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} + .footnote {font-size: .9em; } + div.footnote p {text-indent: 2em; margin-bottom: .5em; } + blockquote {font-size: 90%; } + .chapter { clear: both; page-break-before: always; } + body {text-align: justify; } + table {font-size: .9em; padding: 1.5em .5em 1em; page-break-inside: avoid; + clear: both; overflow-x: auto; overflow-y: auto; } + .pageno {font-size: small; background-color:#ffffff; } + div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; + page-break-after: always; } + div.titlepage p {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; + line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 3em; } + .ph1 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: xx-large; + margin: .67em auto; page-break-before: always; } + .ph2 { text-indent: 0em; font-weight: bold; font-size: x-large; margin: .75em auto; + page-break-before: always; } + .x-ebookmaker p.dropcap:first-letter { float: left; } + </style> + </head> + + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78945 ***</div> + + +<div class='tnotes covernote'> + +<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber’s Note:</strong></p> + +<p class='c000'>New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.</p> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><span class='small'>EACH VOLUME SOLD SEPARATELY.</span></div> + <div class='c001'><span class='large'>COLLECTION</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>OF</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>BRITISH AUTHORS</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='large'>TAUCHNITZ EDITION.</span></div> + <div class='c003'>VOL. 809.</div> + <div class='c002'>MAXWELL DREWITT BY F. G. TRAFFORD</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>IN TWO VOLUMES.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>VOL. 1.</span></div> + <div class='c003'>LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PÈRES.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'><i>This Collection</i></span></div> + <div><span class='small'><i>is published with copyright for Continental circulation, but all purchasers are earnestly requested not to introduce the volumes into England or into any British Colony.</i></span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='large'>COLLECTION</span></div> + <div class='c002'>OF</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>BRITISH AUTHORS.</span></div> + <div class='c002'>VOL. 809.</div> + <div class='c003'><span class='large'>MAXWELL DREWITT BY F. G. TRAFFORD.</span></div> + <div class='c002'>IN TWO VOLUMES.</div> + <div class='c002'>VOL. I.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='titlepage'> + +<div> + <h1 class='c004'>MAXWELL DREWITT.<br> <span class='large'>A NOVEL.</span></h1> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>BY</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>F. G. TRAFFORD,</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>AUTHOR OF “GEORGE GEITH,” ETC.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><i>COPYRIGHT EDITION.</i></div> + <div class='c002'>IN TWO VOLUMES.</div> + <div class='c002'>VOL. I.</div> + <div class='c003'>LEIPZIG</div> + <div class='c002'>BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ</div> + <div class='c002'>1866.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'><i>The Right of Translation is reserved.</i></span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS<br> <span class='c006'>OF VOLUME I.</span></h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <td class='c007'></td> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + <th class='c010'>Page</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>CHAPTER</td> + <td class='c008'>I.</td> + <td class='c009'>Diamond cut Diamond</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>II.</td> + <td class='c009'>Maxwell’s Little Game</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_14'>14</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>III.</td> + <td class='c009'>The Master of Kincorth</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_33'>33</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>IV.</td> + <td class='c009'>Coming Home</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_50'>50</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>V.</td> + <td class='c009'>Peacemaking</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_62'>62</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>VI.</td> + <td class='c009'>At the Hustings</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_76'>76</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>VII.</td> + <td class='c009'>The Result of the Poll</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_93'>93</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Not Dead</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>IX.</td> + <td class='c009'>Mrs. Drewitt understands</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>X.</td> + <td class='c009'>Maxwell’s Engagements</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_142'>142</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XI.</td> + <td class='c009'>Warned</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_158'>158</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Son and Heir</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_172'>172</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XIII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Maxwell’s Improvements</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_187'>187</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XIV.</td> + <td class='c009'>Next</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_203'>203</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XV.</td> + <td class='c009'>Man and Beast</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_218'>218</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XVI.</td> + <td class='c009'>Poor Jenny</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_230'>230</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XVII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Master Harold</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_243'>243</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XVIII.</td> + <td class='c009'>A Little Political Economy</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_260'>260</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XIX.</td> + <td class='c009'>Durrow</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_278'>278</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XX.</td> + <td class='c009'>A Little Leap</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_294'>294</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'><hr></td> + <td class='c008'>XXI.</td> + <td class='c009'>Help</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_307'>307</a></td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_vi'>vi</span></div> +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>MAXWELL DREWITT.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_1'>1</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER I.<br> <span class='c011'>Diamond cut Diamond.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“Confoundedly unlucky for you, Max.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Truth, though you spoke it, my boy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Having uttered which civil reply, Mr. Maxwell +Drewitt flung the fag-end of a cigar he had been +gnawing out of the window, lit another, and commenced +smoking like a chimney.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I wonder, reader, what opinion you, looking into +that little sitting-room, would be inclined to form concerning +the two men who tenanted it—what sort of +character you would naturally attribute to each—what +precise road through life you might think it most probable +they would respectively follow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That tall one lolling on the sofa will, if you ask +his name, answer, “Tim Ryan, at your service;” whilst +the younger man, supposing you put the same question +to him, would first inquire, “What the deuce business +it was of yours?” and finally give in to the fact, that +people did call him Maxwell Drewitt, nephew to Archibald +Drewitt, Esquire, of Kincorth, near Duranmore, +Connemara, Galway, Ireland.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is the story of Maxwell Drewitt’s life which I +am about to try to tell, and I must ask you before we +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>go further, to look attentively at him, and at the man +whom for lack of a better word must be called his +friend.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There they sit in the sunlight, in the parlour of +Mr. Ryan’s house, which is a long, low, two-storey, +whitewashed cottage, standing a little back from the +highroad leading to Duranmore. There they are for +you to study at your leisure. Ryan fair; Drewitt dark; +the former grey-eyed, reddish haired, wide-mouthed, +and eight-and-twenty; the latter nearly six years +younger, slightly made, and rather under than over +the middle height, with dark eyes, dark complexion, +and regular features.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nothing very remarkable, you think, about either +of them in face, dress, circumstances, or expression.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Perhaps you may judge that Ryan is inclined to +mirth, whilst Drewitt affects gravity; that Max has +more brains than Tim, and Tim a better temper than +Max; but still, notwithstanding Ryan turns his eyes at +times in a way which is not pleasant, and although +when Drewitt speaks he has a peculiar and most ungraceful +knack of not moving his lips like other people, +you see nothing evil in either face.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Look again, look steadily, and be sure. Nothing +evil? No, decidedly not; and this time you are certain +of the accuracy of your observation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All of which only proves that, spite of Lavater, +faces are oftentimes great lies. They are the paper-money +of society, for which, on demand, there frequently +proves to be no gold in the human coffer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell Drewitt’s face, at any rate, was a lie, for +it told no unpleasant tales about his character. There +was nothing disagreeable in its expression; there was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>no shadow of evil in his eyes, and yet the person that +knew him best perhaps on earth—his uncle—once +declared, “the man who trusted Maxwell Drewitt twice +was a fool.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had been that fool, so it is fair to suppose him +a competent judge in the matter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wherever Maxwell Drewitt had been born; under +whatsoever circumstances he had been brought up; had +he been the son of a bishop, or the heir of a duke, +there can be no reasonable doubt but that he would +have turned out just as bad a man, though, perhaps, a +man differently bad.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With Timothy Ryan the case was different. It +seemed as though Nature had hardly been able to +decide what to make of him; that she had hesitated +between an honest man and a rogue; and that while +she remained irresolute, training and nurture took the +matter into their own hands, and did the worst for him +they could.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He himself was wont to declare he was as honest +as he could afford to be; and if such were the case we +can only suppose that the smallness of his capital restricted +his expenditure of probity and fair dealing to +almost a minimum sum per annum.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There ensued a long pause after the two remarks +I have recorded, during which the younger man puffed +the smoke of his cigar out into the summer air, and +the elder toyed with the tassels of the window-curtains +and looked forth upon Duranmore Bay.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Confoundedly unlucky,” he at length repeated, +bringing his eyes back from the sea and the mountains, +and stretching one long leg across a neighbouring +chair—“confoundedly unlucky, indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>“You have made that remark three times,” answered +Mr. Drewitt, “and I do not see that it grows +any less true by repetition, for which reason let us +quit talking about the matter. If I am not at Kincorth +I shall be elsewhere. We must always be someplace, +Tim; on the earth, or in it. What’s done is done, and +there is no use fretting over it. When one door is +shut, another is open. The thing that has been predestined +from the beginning of time must come to +pass before the end of it. Are not those your sentiments?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, but then we never know what has been predestined +till it actually happens; and this cursed marriage +has not come off yet. Though I am a firm fatalist, +still I never leave anything for fate to do that I can +do for myself, and should advise you ditto. Can’t you +scotch the wheel, Max?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I? No,” replied the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nor loosen a screw, nor upset the coach matrimonial, +nor—nor do anything, my son?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not a thing,” said Mr. Drewitt out of one side of +his mouth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Could you not go to London and marry her yourself?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And saddle myself with a poor wife, and in due +time a tribe of hungry brats, leaving my worthy uncle +at liberty to marry any one else whom he might take +it into his wise head to fancy. No thank you, Tim, +I am rather too wide awake for that. Let him bring +home his young wife; I won’t try to prevent him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They say she is pretty, Max, as well as young,” +remarked Mr. Ryan. “She will wind him round her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>finger. There will be some stir at the old place when +she comes over.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, the same stir there always has been,” said +Maxwell Drewitt with a malicious smile, “a rustling of +bills, and clamour of duns, a rumour of writs and dread +of bailiffs. I wish the lady joy of her bargain. She +will see hundreds going out, but not a sixpence will +she ever be able to keep in her purse. She will have +to pay the servants’ wages with promises, and manage +her housekeeping on credit, and turn her silk gowns +three times. She will be the scapegoat in trouble, the +stay at home in pleasure. She will have to teach Willy +and Katty, and fight it out with Sue. She will have +no excitement from year’s end to year’s end, for it is +not likely she can either drink or hunt. Altogether, +Mrs. Archibald Drewitt of Kincorth will have an +agreeable life of it, and if she were the devil I pity +her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>At that Ryan looked up. “You pity her?” he repeated +slowly and doubtingly, for he knew his companion +seldom pitied any but those he was resolved +should ere long require an abundance of the article +from some one. “You pity her?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, faith,” answered the other; “I know what +Kincorth has been to us; I know what it will be to +her. But hang it, Ryan, let us quit talking about +this new martyr; put a cigar in your mouth and shut +up.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They say,” continued Mr. Ryan, unheeding his +friend’s polite request, “that your uncle intends settling +Kincorth upon her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a moment Maxwell Drewitt remained silent, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>while his face changed and darkened; then he answered—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Likely enough. The man’s in love, you know.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So he may be,” replied Ryan, “but justice is +justice for all that; and it is not justice to cut you out +of the house and demesne for ever.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And a day,” finished the smoker; “but bless your +soul, it may just as well be decided, now that I am +never to be a farthing the better for any Drewitt living +or dead, except myself. It must have come to this +sooner or later, and I say it is better sooner, than +later.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then how am I to be paid?” inquired the other. +At which question Mr. Maxwell Drewitt raised his eyebrows +and shrugged his shoulders and looked full in +his friend’s face while he laughed aloud.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the devil is amusing you?” asked Ryan +angrily.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So you were waiting to be paid out of Kincorth, +were you?” answered Mr. Drewitt. “You would have +been content to run barefoot till Archibald Drewitt +dropped off his shoes some fine winter morning following +the hounds, or slipped his feet out of them after a +night’s hard drinking preparatory to taking a sound +sleep in Eversbeg Abbey. Laugh!—it is enough to +make a cat laugh to think of such patience.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I was not waiting for his death,” retorted Ryan. +“I thought he would do something for you before long—make +some suitable provision for the next heir.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You chanced to be damnably out in your thought, +then,” replied the younger man; “that is all the remark +I have to offer on the subject.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, then, how am I to be paid?” repeated Mr. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>Ryan. “You owe me more than I can afford to lose, +Max, and——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t trouble yourself to make a speech,” interrupted +Drewitt, “there is no audience; you want to +know how you are to be paid. I’ll pay you. You +perhaps want to know when. Within twelve months. +You may further desire to know how, but that is my +business, not yours. Now let us talk about something +else.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If you have not much gold, you have lots of brass,” +remarked the other: “you borrow and borrow and borrow, +and then say I am not to ask a question about +repayment.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Are you going to dun me, Ryan?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do not want to dun you; I only wish to know +how I am to be paid.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have told you I will pay you within twelve +months from this present hour.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But how? How is it possible?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mr. Timothy Ryan,” broke in his friend, “there +is only one way in which a man without a pound note +in his pocket can possibly pay his debts honourably—with +an ounce of lead. If you would choose that settlement +between us I can have no possible objection to +such an arrangement; but if, on the other hand, you +prefer taking your principal and interest in the coin of +the realm you must wait my time, and my time is a +year from this date.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have your year, then,” said the other, sulkily. +“I don’t want to press you. I only——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s right,” answered Mr. Drewitt, as his friend +paused. “Now let us talk about something else.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What else? The election?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>“Thank you. I hear enough about that up at the +house. The very name of it drives me away. I am +sick and tired to death of the whole confounded humbug;” +and as he concluded, the young man rose from +his chair, placed a somewhat shabby hat jauntily on +his head, and prepared to take his departure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Stop a minute,” entreated Ryan. “You know the +seat is to be contested this time, and pretty hotly too. +Sache is not going to walk over the course as Abbott +did. You are old enough to take some decided part +on your own account. Which party do you side with?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Really, I have never thought about the matter; +but I will now. Let me see—who is my uncle for?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sache, of course.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then I am for Ryan, of course,” returned Mr. +Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“May we count upon your assistance?” asked Ryan +eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do not know,” answered the younger man. “Any +good likely to come of it?” he inquired, after a moment’s +pause.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What is your figure?” said Ryan. (Among friends, +you see, reader, much ceremony can be dispensed with.) +“What is your figure?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That place of Lynch’s has just fallen in—that +place near Eversbeg—round the headland, I mean—between +the abbey and the shore.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, that! It is promised to Hunter, a Scotch +fellow. He talked about building a good house on it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did he? Well, talk’s cheaper than building, any +day. It is a nice farm though, and you can just mention +to Waller that I like it, and that Hunter is a +Sacheite. I would take it without a fine, on lease of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>Waller’s life. You might think it over. Good-bye.” +And without waiting for an answer, Mr. Drewitt strolled +leisurely out of the house, and wended his way towards +home.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is my belief,” remarked Mr. Ryan, as he watched +his visitor’s departure, “it is my belief, Max, that you +are the making of as great a scoundrel as ever broke +bread.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And considering Mr. Timothy Ryan was a long +way from being a honest man himself, this remark +may be regarded as a solemn truth, for Mr. Maxwell +Drewitt’s friend was by no means biased in his judgment, +either by the prejudices of superior virtue or by +any contracted ideas as to the number of vices requisite +to form a scoundrel.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was simply the confession of faith of a man who +stuck at few things, concerning the character of a man +who stuck at none; and when he had given utterance +to his opinion in the sentence recorded, Timothy Ryan, +Esq., solicitor, felt himself wonderfully relieved, and at +liberty to retire from the window to a table covered +with books and papers and letters and deeds and leases, +where he was soon up to his ears in business.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had not been writing for more than fifteen +minutes, however, when Maxwell Drewitt re-appeared.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He came lounging into the room with the same +immoveable expression on his countenance, and the +eternal cigar between his lips—for Maxwell Drewitt +lived smoking; he did nothing without either a pipe or +a weed in his mouth, and the principal reason perhaps +why he liked tobacco was, because his uncle detested +it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I say, Ryan,” began the young man, taking one +<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>hand out of his pocket in order to knock the ash off +his cigar, “I say, Ryan, lend me a pen and sheet of +paper, will you, for five minutes? I want to send a +letter off to-day, and it will be too late for post, I find, +if I go back to Kincorth. There, don’t disturb yourself—that +will do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And as he concluded, the speaker pulled a chair +up to the opposite end of the table, dragged the writing +materials his friend looked out, towards him, and +then, after sitting biting his nails for a few seconds, +shaded the top of the sheet with his hand, dipped his +pen in the ink, muttered an oath about the latter being +so infernally thick, and began.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Busily the quill at the lawyer’s desk went scratching +over the foolscap; rapidly was line after line completed; +hurriedly were erasures made and other sentences +substituted; but spite of all his hurry, Mr. Ryan +managed to keep an eye on his visitor, and tried to +make out what he was writing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He might as well have spared himself the trouble, +for even when Maxwell did lift his hand for a moment +from the top of the page to the end, that he might +finish biting his nails down to the quick, Mr. Ryan +found it impossible to read his friend’s letter upside +down.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Never mind,” he thought, “I shall know all about +it one of these days. Judging from his face, he means +no good to some poor devil.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Ryan was right, and if you, dear reader, would +like to watch the progress of Mr. Maxwell Drewitt’s +little game, we can walk round to the other end of the +table, and read the epistle over his shoulder.</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span></div> +<blockquote> +<div class='lg-container-r'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>[PRIVATE.]</div> + <div class='line'>“Inchnagawn Cottage, near Duranmore,</div> + <div class='line in22'>June 11th, 18—.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“<span class='sc'>Dear Sir</span>,—I suppose you have heard ere this +that my uncle is going to be married to a young lady +named Dyak, a daughter of Colonel Dyak, of London, +but conclude that his intention of settling Kincorth +upon her will be as new to you as it was until last +night to me.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am sure it will seem but natural to you that I +should wish to prevent this, as you are aware that by +the terms of my grandfather’s will, my father, the elder +son, was disinherited, and that my sisters and self were +consequently left dependent on the generosity, or justice, +of my uncle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will at once see the effect of such a settlement. +It would cut me off for ever from all hope of +possessing this portion of my grandfather’s property; as +in case of my uncle dying without issue, Kincorth +would pass absolutely to Mrs. Drewitt, who would thus +be left at liberty to contract a second marriage, and to +will the house and demesne to whom she pleased.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Further, it would render your chances of repayment +almost indefinite, Kincorth being the gem of the +property; indeed, the result of the whole arrangement +would be to place Kincorth beyond the reach of Mr. +Drewitt’s creditors; and though there is no doubt but +that he would bitterly repent his imprudence in after +years, at the present moment any remonstrance on my +part would only tend to produce an estrangement between +us.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I want nothing except what is fair, and certainly +think as the lady has no fortune of her own, that some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>settlement is desirable. But an equitable settlement +is one thing, and making over an entire estate to a +stranger, another.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“However, I now leave the matter entirely in your +hands, to act as you think best, <i>for you are the only +person who can interfere with advantage to all parties</i>, +and shall only beg that you will in any case consider +this letter as strictly confidential.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Trusting your health is re-established,</p> + +<div class='lg-container-r'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“I remain, dear sir,</div> + <div class='line in8'>“Yours faithfully,</div> + <div class='line in16'>“<span class='sc'>Maxwell Drewitt</span>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“P.S.—I am at present staying with my friend +Mr. Thomas Ryan, and shall feel obliged by your directing +me here <i>under cover</i> to him.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class='c013'>“So you have finished at last, Max?” remarked +the attorney, as his visitor commenced folding up his +letter. “I think the sky must be going to fall when +you take to the quill. Surely you have not gone and +done it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gone and done what?” demanded the younger +man, hurriedly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Put your foot in your fortune—made a fool of +yourself—fallen in love.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Fallen in nonsense!” retorted Mr. Drewitt. “No, +Tim, I’m not in love with anybody, unless it be with +myself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ah! that’s best. You will have no rivals there,” +replied the lawyer, which remark Maxwell affected +not to hear.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>“You are not writing love-letters, then?” persisted +Mr. Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not I, faith; the sort of love-letters I want to fall +in with are money letters. Thank God, I am not such +a fool as you are, Tim.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are thankful for small mercies,” was the retort, +uttered as Mr. Drewitt reached the door. “Are +you off in a huff? Well, good-bye—but stay—when +shall I see you again about the election?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Damn the election!” replied the young hypocrite. +“Do you think I have nothing to interest me but +drunken voters and lying candidates? I’ll come when +it suits me; and besides, I have not yet made up my +mind whether I will be your man or not.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You had better, then, lose no time about making +it up,” snapped back Ryan; “for Sache and his people +are in the field already, and we ought to be there +too.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is your affair,” said Drewitt, as he passed +out into the hall. “Adieu, my dear fellow, <i>au revoir!</i>” +And this time he banged the door after him and was +fairly off.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Some day,” soliloquized the lawyer, “some day, +Maxwell Drewitt, I shall pay you out in your own coin. +Some day when you stand in no need of me, nor I of +you, then we shall be equals—then we shall have +many an old score to settle. Meanwhile——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He went back to his work, leaving the remainder +of the sentence unspoken; and as it would be but waste +of time for us to follow his thoughts, we will step out +into the bright sunshine, and track Mr. Drewitt’s indolent +footsteps home.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II.<br> <span class='c011'>Maxwell’s Little Game.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Very leisurely Mr. Maxwell Drewitt lounged along, +for it was part of that young man’s creed to work +rather with his head than with his body. In that caldron +he was eternally brewing something which turned +out food for him, and poison for other people.</p> + +<p class='c013'>From childhood he had been plotting and scheming, +and by dint of long thought and care and study he had +finally reached almost the top step of the ladder of +hypocrisy, and was, as Ryan said, “the making of as +great a scoundrel as ever lived.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>So he went on his way very slowly, with his hands +plunged in his pockets. Kicking the small stones ruthlessly +before him, he went along the road leading to +Duranmore, where, having posted his letter, he turned +aside from the regular thoroughfare and descended to +the beach, along which there was a path, though a +circuitous one, home.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Sometimes he looked over the bay; but more generally +he kept his eyes riveted on the ground.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Written on the sands he saw the story of his future +life traced out—riches, prosperity, success; he beheld +them all. There were obstacles, but he crushed them; +impediments, but he removed them; foes, but he annihilated +them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, yes,” he cried at last, halting suddenly, and +looking away towards the hills that rose to heaven—“Yes, +yes, Kincorth, you shall yet be mine—you and +many a fair property beside; but you in especial, because +<span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>I have sworn that neither man nor devil shall +keep you from me. And shall a woman? No, before +God!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And the veins came swelling up in his forehead as +he stretched out one clenched hand towards Kincorth, +and registered his oath.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There lay his home—his home where he lived a +dependent—which was his, only so long as his uncle’s +charity chose to give him the shelter of its roof.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Look at it, reader, intently as he did, for it was +destined to bring agony unto many hearts, to curse +many lives, to peril some souls.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Kincorth! there was not a lovelier spot in Ireland; +and is not that almost equivalent to saying there was +not a lovelier spot in the wide world?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Halfway up a hill stood the house, backed by dark +plantations, surrounded by woods and long belts of +trees, and verdant fields and trickling streams. It was +built of the blue granite for which Galway is noted, +and some Drewitt had in other days erected a porch +of black marble, around the pillars of which wreathed +roses and fuchsias and myrtles.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was the flower-garden, with its hedges of +sweetbriar and evergreens, with its baskets of wickerwork +filled with mignonette.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There were rose-trees covered with buds, and little +wild Scotch bushes that crept close to the ground, and +strewed it with a carpet of white and yellow leaves. +There were perfumed syringas, Italian broom, and +barberry-trees, and beds of tulips.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a fountain in the centre where the supply +of water never failed, and creepers and passionflowers +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>and honeysuckles grew about the inclosure at +their own sweet will.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Kincorth had also its glen and waterfall, and at +the top of the fall there stood a dilapidated summer-house, +from which you could see away and away over +the sea and the land. The trackless ocean and the +distant mountains, the villages and hamlets below, and +the dashing water near at hand—all were visible from +this place, which was made of fir, and ornamented with +shells, and shaded with sycamore and chesnut trees.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then there was the old entrance, built of the same +dark stone as the house, half covered with wild white +roses, whilst the lodge looked brilliant in its scarlet +deckings of pyracanthus, the blossoms of which mixed +among the white buds that were straggling about everywhere, +and trying to effect an entrance even at the +latticed windows.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There were holes in the roof and breakages in the +wall; but trees shaded the one, and wild flowers concealed +the other; and Kincorth, with all its dilapidations—with +its ruined buildings, and trailing brambles, +and unmown grass, and unpruned trees—looked +beautiful in the dancing sunshine.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And it was this place he wanted to settle on her, +and secure from me,” muttered Maxwell, as he entered +the drive, across which the branches of the dark trees +met and formed a sort of cathedral roof; and again he +paused, and with arms folded across his chest, with his +lips tightly pressed together, and his dark brows bent +down looked up at the house once more.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Look at him now, reader. Would you like to be +an obstacle in his path? Would you care to be a +thing in his way? Cannot you see he would stamp +<span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>you into the earth as he stamps his heel into the gravel? +Would it not be an awful thing to have to plead to +that man for mercy?—to hear him answer you with +that mocking devil in his eyes, out of those thin, relentless +lips?</p> + +<p class='c013'>He is young now: what will he be when he is old? +He is just starting on life’s journey: what will he be +when the road has been traversed—when the world +has hardened him—when experience has matured him? +If you come on to the end, you shall see what he is +like when the raven hair is gray, and the keen eyes +dulled, and the devil within satisfied—you shall see. +Meantime he stands with the evening sunbeams making +their way through the trees and falling aslant on +his figure, and lighting up the green and beautiful +sward and the plotting, scheming, wary man whose +heart was full of bitterness, whose soul was full of +hate.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Kincorth should have been his! If primogeniture +were worth anything—if being the eldest son of the +eldest son entitled a man to name and land and +houses—Maxwell Drewitt ought to have been +master of Kincorth, and Archibald should have been +eking out existence somewhere else as best he could.</p> + +<p class='c013'>What had George Drewitt done that his father +should cut him off? In the natural course George +Drewitt would have succeeded Nicholas Drewitt, Maxwell’s +grandfather, save for one deadly sin which he +committed. He married a nobody, and a Roman Catholic; +and though he tried to keep his indiscretion a +secret, it came finally to his father’s ears, who cut him +off with a shilling on the spot.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would as soon you had married the devil, sir!” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>thundered the old man; and before very long poor +Nicholas Drewitt found he might almost as soon have +mated with that objectionable personage as with his +wife, who, fortunately perhaps for all parties, died in +giving birth to her fourth child, leaving George Drewitt +at liberty to marry again if he pleased.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But George Drewitt did not please; he lived to +get his shilling certainly, and to see his brother Archibald +owner of Kincorth; he lived to move himself and +his children back as guests to the old place which he +had expected to possess; and then he quietly slipped +out of this world, leaving Maxwell and his sisters to +be provided for by their uncle, a man full of good intentions, +who offered to see to them as if they were +his own boys and girls.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I promise you, George, so long as I have sixpence +they shall share it. I swear it, and you may +die happy,” he said to the dying man; who, whether +he died happy or not, accepted the promise and departed, +leaving Archibald Drewitt to perform his good +intentions if he could.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is something more than probable that the owner +of Kincorth fulfilled his promise strictly to the letter, +though his own embarrassments and wretched mismanagement +made it impossible for him to carry out +the scheme he had proposed to himself in the spirit.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will put aside a certain amount,” he determined, +“and devote it to Maxwell’s education and to portioning +his sisters.” A good resolution, and perhaps only +fair, but one which Mr. Drewitt found he could never +carry into practice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He would have done just the same by his own +children; he would have planned all manner of good +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>things for their benefit, and then he would have let +them grow up as he let his nephews and nieces grow +up—uneducated, untrained, unprovided for.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The curse of the Drewitts, improvidence, was on +him, and the consequence was that, though Maxwell +Drewitt and his sisters had food and shelter out of +their grandfather’s property, they had little more.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell was not sent to college nor the girls to +school. Ready money was one of those things which +Mr. Drewitt only knew by name; of himself he had no +acquaintance with it. That George Drewitt’s family +did not grow up idiots was attributable rather to their +own natural cleverness than to any advantages of +society or education provided for them by their uncle. +Kincorth was swamped with debt. Every blade of +grass, every ear of corn, was due to some one ere ever +it lifted its head above ground; the description given +to Ryan by Maxwell of the state of things at his +uncle’s was not exaggerated in the slightest, and while +duns and bailiffs besieged the old home of the Drewitts, +Maxwell looked on, and gnashed his teeth, and thought +how, if <i>he</i> had the management, Kincorth should soon +be clear of debt and the Drewitts rear their heads in +the county once again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>From his mother he had inherited a clear clever +head—a head calculated to look closely and warily +after the interests of No. 1. His hospitality would not +have carried him away; his generosity would never +have made him a poorer man; and it was natural perhaps +for such a temper to be irritated with the senseless +prodigality of his uncle’s <i>ménage</i>, and to feel more +angry at what Mr. Drewitt had left undone than grateful +for that which he had performed.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>Above all, Maxwell Drewitt had been brought up +a martyr; since boyhood he had thought his uncle a +usurper, himself the lawful heir. With that love for +the first-born which is so distinguishing a feature of +the Irish, his nurse had always regarded him as +“wronged,” and had taught him to believe himself so. +We read in a very ancient book that when Jacob put +his hand on the head of Ephraim, Joseph was displeased, +and just so the mass of the poorer population, +much as they liked Archibald Drewitt, still considered +that the boy had been hardly done by, and that he +was the rightful owner of all the broad acres that went +sloping to the sea.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With this idea Maxwell grew up: he had been +done out of the estate by his grandfather; he was +being kept out of it by his uncle, but the day must +come when the property would revert to him. He was +the heir. Kincorth must eventually return to the only +son of the eldest son—and then—</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then all at once came the news that Mr. Drewitt +was about to marry.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And if he marry,” thought Maxwell Drewitt, as +he lay awake and tossed about from side to side of +his bed; “and if he marry—and if he have sons—where +am I?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>That was the question Archibald Drewitt ought to +have considered when he adopted the children, but +which he had never thought about, first or last.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What was to become of them?” girls who could +never earn enough to buy shoes to their feet? A young +man who could ride across country—bring down his +bird—dance all night—walk all day—but who +knew nothing likely to put a guinea in his pocket—what +<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>was to become of him?—“What was to become +of them?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>I echo the question which Maxwell Drewitt put to +himself as he lay thinking out all manner of disagreeable +and evil thoughts in the darkness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All the stories he had read and scoffed at of self-made +men came into his head. “Why should not a +gentleman’s son do well too? Why should not a Drewitt +and an Irishman make money if he could? What the +devil could there be in those English people that made +them seem able to turn the very dirt under their feet +to gold? Could <i>he</i> do nothing? Was there no El +Dorado to which he might turn his steps? If he had +Kincorth, could he not make money out of it? And if +he tried the same scheme with any other place, might +he not do well with that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Maxwell Drewitt sprang out of bed as he +thought of this, and looked down over the trees, away +and away towards Duranmore, which lay by the sea-shore, +looking dark and disconsolate in the first dawn +of morning.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He looked beyond Duranmore—at something he +saw in his mind’s eye, but which certainly his outward +vision could not have presented to him. “I will have +that,” he said, and he went back to bed again and fell +asleep as calmly and peacefully as a child.</p> + +<p class='c013'>From that night the young man formed his plans. +Ready money he, like his uncle, had none, and like +his uncle also he was considerably in debt. He had +no property save some forty acres of freehold land +that came to him through his maternal grandfather, +and which, having been let during his minority to a +farmer, were now available if Maxwell chose to give +<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>him the usual notice. The land, however, was poor +and unproductive, and though there was a house on +the ground, it had been left to go to rack and ruin +for so long a time that it was almost uninhabitable.</p> + +<p class='c013'>So far the future was unpromising enough. Poor +and involved, with no profession, with no cash in +hand, with no property save a neglected piece of barren +land, value certainly not exceeding 25<i>l.</i> a-year—how +could the man push his way to fortune?</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was not a cheerful prospect for any one, but +still Maxwell Drewitt looked out over it bravely, +and hour by hour, and day by day, perfected his +schemes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He would be idle no longer—he would work, he +would be a rich man, when Archibald Drewitt was a +beggar. Kincorth should <span class='fss'>NOT</span> pass away from him. +His uncle should yet be glad to give over the whole +place and receive an allowance from his nephew. It +would take him, say ten years to compass this end, +and then he would paper and paint Kincorth from +garret to cellar; he would give every old servant +notice; he would keep the gardens and grounds in +such order that Kincorth should be the talk of all the +county; and when he had got his own again he would +marry—he would marry birth, money, and rank, and +take his leisure under the shadow of his vine and his +fig-tree.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the middle of this day-dream came Ryan’s announcement +of his uncle’s intention to settle Kincorth +upon his wife; and it was the thought of the possibility of +such a settlement being effected that made Maxwell +Drewitt stand still as he entered the drive, and look +eagerly, longingly over Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>There came a day when he looked over it with +different eyes, when the netted sunbeams fell aslant on +the figure of a bowed and broken man; when, satiated +with possession and wearied of all he had struggled +and sinned to obtain, Maxwell Drewitt walked feebly +under the shadow of those self-same trees, thinking +not of this world, wherein he had laid house to house +and acre to acre, but with a terrible dread, with a +horrible affright, of that other, to which the treasures +of earth may not be carried.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But on the summer evening of which I am speaking +youth was present and age afar off. He was strong, +he knew neither ache nor pain, life was all before him, +it was the spring of his year, the time of budding promise, +of fearless hope. He had no dread of anything +save of Kincorth being placed beyond his reach, and +he had but little fear of that, for when he finished his +reverie, and walked on towards the house, he muttered—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think I have scotched that wheel. Old Turner +has too tight a hold over my good uncle to let that +cock fight. I would give five pounds to see the old +fellow’s face when he reads my letter.” And Maxwell +Drewitt laughed aloud as he pictured to himself the +Quaker’s consternation on receipt of his communication.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Had Samuel Turner been anything except a +“friend” he would have relieved his mind by swearing; +as it was he merely said “infamous,” and went straight +off to his solicitor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After a consultation with that gentleman, who comforted +him exceedingly, he sent back the following +reply to his young correspondent:—</p> + +<div><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span></div> +<blockquote> +<div class='lg-container-r'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Ashton-under-Lyne, June —, 18—.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='lg-container-l'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Friend Maxwell</span>,</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“Thee hast done quite right, and acted (an unusual +thing for youths of thine age and country) with sound +sense and good feeling. Be satisfied I shall do the +best I can for thee and thy sisters. I grieve that thy +uncle, a sensible man, should think at his time of life +of marrying a young wife, and she a fashionable woman +from London.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-r'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Thy sincere friend,</div> + <div class='line in8'>“<span class='sc'>Samuel Turner</span>.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“If thee should turn thy attention at any time to +business, I would try to advance thy views if in my +power.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p class='c013'>Which letter, coming to Mr. Ryan amongst a +number of others, was opened by him in mistake, and +read right through by intention. He read it once, he +read it twice, and then laying it down, he said to himself, +“So this is your dodge, Maxwell Drewitt, is it?—this +is the first step.” And when Maxwell himself +appeared he handed him the epistle, adding, “You +are a deal cleverer than I thought you. You will—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the devil, sir, do you mean by opening my +letters?” burst forth his visitor, the blood rushing up +warm and red even through his dark complexion. “I +tell you what it is, Ryan,” he went on, “for many a +less thing than this a fellow has had a bullet in his +skull.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hold your tongue, my son, and don’t talk like a +fool,” interrupted Mr. Ryan. “How the deuce am I to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>know a letter is not for me till I have read it? On my +honour I was half way through the thing before it occurred +to me there was any blunder.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I don’t believe you,” said Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“For less than that many a man has been sent +into kingdom-come at twelve paces,” retorted Ryan; +“but there is one blessed comfort in the affair, which +is, I don’t care whether you believe me or not. There +now, boy, sit down, and don’t make such a confounded +row about the matter. Honour among thieves, you +know; and I am not going to turn informer.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are an unprincipled scoundrel,” Maxwell persisted, +“to open another person’s letter.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, for Heaven’s sake! drop the saint,” exclaimed +his friend. “Maxwell Drewitt talking about principle, +and Satan reproving sin, always seem to me to sail +together in the same boat. I tell you I did <span class='fss'>NOT</span> open +the letter of malice afore-thought. Now I have made +all the apology I intend to make, and if you do not +like to take it you may leave it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“When a letter comes to you under cover, you +cannot open it by accident.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hang the lad!” exclaimed Ryan, pettishly, “the +thing did not come under cover at all. There is the +whole cursed concern.” And he flung letter and envelope +to their rightful owner, who, turning up the latter, +read:</p> + +<div class='lg-container-l'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“<span class='sc'>Maxwell Drewitt</span>,</div> + <div class='line in2'>“Care of T. Ryan,</div> + <div class='line in4'>“Inchnagawn Cottage,</div> + <div class='line in6'>“near Duranmore, Galway, Ireland.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“What an idiot the old fellow must be. I told him +as—”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>“I know all you said as well as if I had seen your +letter,” interrupted Ryan. “Besides, what does it +matter about my knowing you wrote to Turner? +Whenever I heard Mrs. Drewitt’s jointure was cut +down, I should have been sure you had put your foot +in it somehow. Indeed, Max Drewitt, you are a very +promising young man, and your uncle has every right +to be proud of you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is proud of nothing just at present, I fancy,” +answered the other, recovering his temper at this +neatly-turned compliment, and flinging himself into a +chair as he spoke. “I left him wishing all Quakers +and lawyers in the hottest of hot quarters. We send +for our letters, you know, and so get them earlier than +you do; and you may depend the opening of the bag +made an uncommon fuss at Kincorth this morning.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let the cat out?” suggested Mr. Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, faith. If it had I might have walked. As it +was I had nothing but black looks and short answers. +Turner has lost no time about the affair though, has +he?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Trust a Quaker for that,” said Mr. Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It seems to me,” remarked Mr. Drewitt, “that a +dislike to losing money is common to both churchmen +and Quakers; but really you should see my uncle, he +is worth travelling from here to Kincorth to get a +sight of.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What will he do now?” inquired his companion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How should I know? write, I suppose, to his +father-in-law elect, and tell him unforeseen circumstances, +etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, prevent his fulfilling +his liberal intentions; or he may try to raise +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>money to pay off Turner. He could scarcely do it in +the time though,” added Maxwell, reflectively.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Scarcely,” acquiesced Ryan. “But now, I say, +Max, tell me why is this woman marrying your uncle? +You declare she is young, pretty, well-born—she can +therefore scarcely be in her last wonder yet. What is +the attraction?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Kincorth,” sneered his visitor, pulling his chair +up to the table as he spoke, with a violence which +spilt the contents of the lawyer’s tea-cup over his +hand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You don’t think she loves him, then?” persisted +the other, as he wiped the tea off his sleeve and wristband.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why, what on earth should she love him for?” +asked Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot tell—perhaps because he is frank, handsome, +generous, amiable. Although he is nearly +twenty years older than you, Master Maxwell Drewitt, +I know if I were a woman, which thank heaven I am +not, I should fall in love with him sooner than with +you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You cannot tell what you might do if you were a +woman,” answered the youth, thus plainly complimented; +“but in this case what I tell you is true. The +Colonel, her father, is poor as a church-mouse; he has +this daughter single, and no sons; his income dies with +him. It follows, therefore, that the girls must either +marry or starve, and there is Kincorth for the one who +is left. A pretty little catch it sounds. Fifteen thousand +a year, with no encumbrance that she knows of, +is worth looking pretty and pleasant for, eh, Ryan?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“In theory,” replied Ryan, “but not in fact. If +<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>they are playing such a game it is a pity they should +lose it; my creed is that whatever people marry for, +whether for love or money, or position or birth, they +should get it; and they have mistaken the cards over +in England if they are reckoning on Kincorth as a +trump. Suppose, however, Max, that you are wrong, +and that this Miss Dyak is marrying your uncle not +for love of Kincorth, but for love of himself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Love of folly!” was the civil answer. “Why, +man, you are turning spooney all at once.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No I am not,” said Ryan. “Mr. Drewitt is still +very handsome; he is a thoroughbred Irish gentleman, +just the sort to take a girl’s fancy. Everywhere but +at Kincorth he is as lively and talkative as a boy. I +do not see why she should not love him; and if she +do, God help her!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And wherefore?” demanded his visitor, who was +employing himself in cramming hot buttered toast +down his throat—“and wherefore?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because love is too valuable and scarce a commodity +to be wasted,” answered the lawyer, oracularly; +“and further, if Miss Dyak be a woman who can love, +she will probably feel inclined to do her duty, and if +she do her duty, why God help her again, I say.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You mean with Sue?” This was interrogative.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I mean with everything: all is wrong at Kincorth—master, +nephew, nieces, servants, labourers, tenants, +everything!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’d soon make all right if I had the management,” +remarked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Old maids’ children and bachelors’ wives,” sneered +Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I keep every soul about the place in order when +<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>my uncle is away,” returned the other, hotly. “I +should like to see the man that would disobey my +orders if I were master. I’d undertake to tame any +dog, horse, or woman in a week. But what is the +matter with you, Ryan, you are as white as a sheet?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Ryan did not answer: he got up and walked +to the window; after standing there for a minute he +came back and reseated himself at the table.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What ails you?” persisted his companion, “are you +not well?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, I am not,” was the reply. “I feel as weak +as a cat at times, and if I were standing in the biggest +room at Kincorth I should seem suffocating when the +fit takes me. I don’t intend to work at home at all +for the future, and I wish you would come and see +me at the office, after Monday next, when you want +to see me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Upon my soul, you are civil. I like that,” said +his visitor. “Why do you want me to call at the office? +Why do you not want me to come here?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because I want my house to be my home after +this week,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are going to be married!” exclaimed Mr. +Drewitt. “Saul is among the prophets.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish I were married,” answered the lawyer, “if +only for my poor little sister’s sake. She is coming +back to me now her aunt is dead, and I must shift for +her as best I can. That is the reason I want you to +call at the office. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are afraid I might fall in love with her, I +suppose,” laughed Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; but I am afraid, nothing being impossible, of +her falling in love with you, and,” went on Mr. Ryan, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>speaking rapidly and, I might almost add, fiercely, +“as you and I know one another so well that we need +not stand on ceremony, I may say that although I do +not pretend to be either a very good or a very +scrupulous man, I had rather put the child in her grave +than give her to you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do not know what may be the fashion in your +rank,” said Maxwell Drewitt, “but in ours we do not +consider it the thing to refuse our sisters till they are +asked for, and I shall certainly never ask you for +yours. It is all very well for me to know you, but +Miss Bourke is a different affair altogether. When I +take to running in double harness it shall be with +something more thoroughbred. Tit for tat is fair play. +Never look so cross about being hit back, man. Let +us get to business. I am your man throughout the +election—at least I think I am; and if you like, +whenever my uncle leaves for England, I will go canvassing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How many voters can you insure?” asked Ryan, +“because if you can bring nobody but yourself, I +don’t know that you will be of much use.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bless my heart, how independent we are all of a +sudden!” exclaimed young Drewitt. “Shall I go and +tell Pryor’s committee you think me a bird not worth +catching? How would it be with Waller’s agency +then? What have you got to say to that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Simply what I said before—a single voter is +not worth the having, even though he be a Drewitt. +How many can you bring with you?” And the +pair looked straight into one another’s eyes as Ryan +finished.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Two dogs might have looked in the same way before +<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>flying, with hungry teeth, each at the throat of +his fellow, but the two men drew off. If Drewitt had +not changed his tone there would have been a quarrel, +but the young man spied danger, and answered quietly +enough—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That depends on the cash. I can bribe where +you could not. I can get refractory fellows out of the +way. I can do lots of things if you make it worth +my while. In short, I will do anything you please, on +two conditions.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There was only one the other day,” remarked the +lawyer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There are two now, though,” was the reply. +“First, the farm, which I suppose we may call settled; +next, I must second Pryor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have a crow to pluck with Sache, and I can +then have it out with him,” answered Mr. Drewitt. +“Even you have no idea how much I can help you if +I choose. Pitted against me, my uncle has no chance. +He is an intruder—a man who has no earthly right +to be at Kincorth. He has brought me up as his heir +until now, and now he takes a young wife to himself, +so as to cut me out for ever. On principle I am opposing +him. Contrary to my own interests I am leaving +the old ship of the Drewitts. If he would only +turn me out of the house it would be the best thing +possible for the Liberal party. Would not it be capital +for us? Heavens! what fools people are, and what +humbug they will swallow!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Having concluded which complimentary speech relative +to the understandings of his fellows, the young +<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>man stuffed his hand into his coat pocket, and produced +thence a book, which Ryan seized eagerly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There are their voters,” remarked his friend, “and +a precious job I had to get it. There you have them +all—dead, doubtful, and certain. Now how many of +our own dead can we personate, and how many of +their doubtfuls can we get?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That depends greatly on you; but are we not +losing time most needlessly? Sache and Munks and +Marsden and Tooley and your uncle have been hard +at work for days past, and here are we, with all the +landed interests against us, doing nothing—literally +nothing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“True; but when once I do start I won’t let the +grass grow under my feet. There has been many an +election at Duranmore, but this will cap everything. +I hear my uncle is going to bring the new mistress of +Kincorth home right away, and there are to be election +balls and dinners and Heaven knows what besides, +up at the old place. I should have thought the excitement +of marrying ought to have been enough for him, +without any extra fuss; but Archibald Drewitt is like +no other human being on earth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is not a man in the county much better +liked at any rate,” remarked Mr. Ryan, drily. “I wish +we had him on our side.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Stuff!” exclaimed Maxwell; “can’t you take the +book and let us get to business?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is impossible to refuse a request urged with +such politeness,” answered the lawyer, moving over to +his writing-table, indistinctly catching, as he did so, +Maxwell Drewitt’s comment, which was, “Damn your +politeness.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III.<br> <span class='c011'>The Master of Kincorth.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Archibald Drewitt, Esq., of Kincorth, was born +a mistake. He said so himself, and therefore there can +be no discourtesy in my repeating the observation. +Whether different circumstances and a different training +might have rectified nature’s error, it is hard to +say. Circumstances and training did nothing for him, +and accordingly a mistake he remained to the end of +the chapter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Unstable as water, thou shalt not excel;” that +was the pleasant programme sketched out for him. +“Unstable as water, he did not excel,” and he made +everybody who had the misfortune to be connected +with him, miserable in consequence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Unstable as water!” Good heavens! how could +a man, not, to be a bad man, have more said in his +dispraise!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Unstable as water, his purposes flowed backwards +and forwards perpetually. With youth, health, ample +means, fair talents, he started at six-and-twenty with +as fair prospects of happiness as need to be possessed +by any man. Life was before him,—life with its objects, +its pleasures, its duties; but the duties he never +fulfilled, the pleasures he never tasted, the objects he +never attained. At twenty-seven existence seemed a +vast conception; at forty-one it was an unfinished, unsatisfactory, +miserable failure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>God deliver us, friends, from such a result! God +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>grant that, when the noon of our life comes, it may +find some work finished, some duty discharged, so that +as the sorrowful sunset draws near—as the darkening +twilight and the darker night approach, we may be +able to look back on the bright mid-day hours without +tears of anguish, without the bitterest thought humanity +knows, of having lost time, which, even with all eternity +before us, we may never retrieve—never—for +ever!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Unstable as water, the force with which the current +of his feelings hurried him along to an object +one moment, was only equalled by the violence of the +flood by which he was distracted from it the next.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Over the sea of life he floated—a boat without a +rudder, a mariner without a star—tossed hither and +thither by every wave of passion, by every caprice +and impulse. Almost continually he kept within sight +of the promised land of peace and comfort and content; +but never once, ah! never, did he manage to +touch its shores.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Always planning, never executing. Always commencing, +never completing. Always borrowing, never +repaying. Always thinking, never acting. Always +proposing, never performing, he spent the whole of his +boyhood, manhood, and age in sending down lost opportunities +and good intentions to that place which is +paved with the one and roofed with the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was not, I need scarcely add, that he meant to +break his word or intended to disappoint any living +being; it was merely that his theory proved better +than his practice, that purposing and promising to do +everything he finished, like many another, by doing +nothing.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>Unstable as water, there was not a trait in his +character but was counteracted by some diametrically +opposite peculiarity. He was not religious, yet he +was superstitious and bigoted. He hated the Roman +Catholics, yet he was always asking the priest to dinner; +he was prodigal, but still gave little away; he +was impatient, yet bore disappointment as calmly as a +philosopher; he was popular, yet always at feud with +some one. He was by turns energetic and indolent, +kind and harsh, forbearing and provoking. His abstract +ideas on the subject of obedience were excellent, +yet his servants and nieces ran counter to his orders +before his face. He was a stickler for birth and blood, +yet he supported with heart and soul Mr. Sache—a +parvenu, and blackguard. He was honourable, yet he +could never pay a debt to the day; his bills had always +to be lifted by a friend, the interest on his mortgages +was always falling behind, somebody was for +ever suffering through, or being embarrassed by him. +He loved punctuality, yet he could not keep an appointment +to the hour. He was never out of hot +water, yet he looked as well and happy as though care +and duns and anxiety were meat and drink to him. +He never had a settled plan, yet he would not adopt +any other person’s scheme. He was for ever asking +advice and never following it; in brief, Maxwell +Drewitt described his uncle to a nicety when he said +that he was “consistent in nothing except his inconsistency.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But notwithstanding all his faults, Archibald Drewitt +was better liked than many a better man. He +had such frank, gracious manners; he was such a +thorough gentleman in his ideas, his appearance, his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>bearing; he had such a knack of turning a compliment, +of saying pleasant things as if he meant them, of implying +that the man to whom he was talking at the +moment was his friend of friends—his friend beyond +all other friends, that it was impossible to resist him, +as impossible to remain cold and calculating in his +presence, as it is for ice to keep from thawing in the +sun. Let a creditor be ever so angry, an interview +with Mr. Drewitt satisfied him. Those who had made +vows concerning paper lent their name to the owner of +Kincorth; even Samuel Turner, an Englishman, a +Quaker, and a merchant, who, for his sins, had once +enjoyed the hospitality of the Irish gentleman, did bills +for him, and was wont to lie awake whole nights +wondering how they were to be met, till Mr. Drewitt +cut the knot of his perplexity by a long and pathetic +letter setting forth how that he could not take up the +bill, stating why he could not do so, explaining when +he should have money in abundance, and imploring +Mr. Turner meanwhile to do what was needful under +the circumstances. “Please renew,” was the burden +of Mr. Drewitt’s everlasting song, a burden with which +many business men are conversant; but very few business +men meet with such correspondents as fell to the +lot of the owner of Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If was entirely his own fault getting into debt, but +people forgot that and pitied him for it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There never was a man who drew so largely on +the sympathies and purses of his friends, and yet his +cheques never came back dishonoured. Liking was +not the word to express the feeling Mr. Drewitt inspired +in those with whom he came in contact. He +was loved, he was idolized, and yet he left no track +<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>of good deeds behind him as he walked through life. +Even his charity, which consisted in letting every +tramp who listed walk into the kitchen at Kincorth, +and drink a basin of milk, or toss off a glass of poteen, +before he trudged away with his wallet full of broken +victuals, was as purposeless and as useless as every +other action of his life. He helped no man who was +helping himself; it was not the struggling tradesman, +the hard-working labourer who benefited by Mr. Drewitt’s +careless open-handedness; rather, it was the +worthless vagabond, the lazy idle beggar, who fattened +on the waste and profusion of Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Open house to all comers: covers for a score if a +score liked to drop in; great sirloins of beef, fish as +fine as ever swam in the sea, wine of the best, whisky +of the strongest, brandy that had never paid the king +a halfpenny, claret that was in the same predicament; +“<span lang="gd">cead mille failthe!</span>” uttered in a rich soft Irish brogue—this +was the order of things in the parlour; whilst +in the kitchen there was a bit and a sup for all who +chose to claim hospitality; for hungry dogs and for +hungry men and women. There was the heat of the +piled-up turf fire for the lame and halt who stood +looking over the half door, muttering, “God save all +here!” There was the cup of tea for the deaf and +dumb, who, by reason of their misfortunes, were considered +able to read the fortunes of others, and who +kept all the maids from their work by prophesying in +signs and gestures the advent of certain husbands, +probable journeys, possible misfortunes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If the prayer of the poor avail, Archibald Drewitt +should have been a happy man; for never a day passed +over without “God bless him” being repeated thirty +<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>or forty times. To be sure, the lips that blessed would +have cursed even more volubly had help been refused; +but the help never was refused. It was <i>but</i> a handful +of meal, <i>but</i> a plate of broken meat, <i>but</i> the bag of +potatoes, <i>but</i> the screw of tea, <i>but</i> the blessing lightly +earned, the curse readily averted; and still Archibald +Drewitt did not prosper, still the property went like +the house, like the grounds, like the porter’s lodge, +like the entrance—to rack and ruin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Would you grudge the craturs a bite to keep life +in them?” asked one of the old servants one day when +Maxwell Drewitt had made some remark concerning +the number of beggars he saw about the place.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’d make the rascals work and earn it,” he answered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yer grandfather, God rest his sowl! would niver +have made a spache like that about poor done men,” +she replied. “There was many a one thought he had +done wrong,—I thrust he is now in glory—in passing +by his eldest son to lave the place to the masther; +but there is one thing sure and certain, that it is a +blessing for the poor you did not get it, Masther Maxwell.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The poor had best make the most of their blessing +then while it lasts,” remarked the young man; +“for a man cannot go on feeding a county for ever, +and my uncle is making ducks and drakes of Kincorth +as fast as he knows how.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, Masther Maxwell, it’s not for you to be +saying anything about who he feeds.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because he has fed me, I suppose; because he +has kept me like the beggars in poverty and idleness,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>remarked Maxwell. “I owe him no thanks for that, +Nannie, rather the reverse.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I always heard that Nicholas Drewitt was a terribly +wise old gentleman, but I am sure of it now,” +answered Nannie.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, do you be a wise old woman,” recommended +Mr. Drewitt, junior, “and make a purse for +yourself and keep it; for I swear to you, Nannie, that +if ever I am owner of Kincorth I’ll clear it of all the +vermin that are eating the heart out of the corn now.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And with this Maxwell Drewitt turned on his heel +and walked away, thinking, “If ever it do come to +me it will be valueless, and I—I would have kept +it together; I would have made Kincorth something +worth talking about. Curse him,” said the young man +stopping suddenly. “Curse him for a fool!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was hard. His uncle ought either to have cast +him off or provided for him suitably. The very +beggars had almost as much good of the estate as he, +and they had no claim on Kincorth as he had—a +claim in equity though not in law.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Why did the man want to marry now? Had he +not been in love fourteen years before? and was not +one love enough for such a temperament for life? +Had he not been jilted? Had he not stood with the +muzzle of a pistol touching his forehead, when his +brother found him? and did not the pistol miss fire? +and had not the pair a fight for the weapon, which +ended in George Drewitt knocking the owner of Kincorth +down and sending for a doctor to bleed him till +he fainted?</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish he would take the same notion again,” +thought Maxwell, “and that I had the loading. He +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>would not fall in love a third time;” and the young +man sneered bitterly as he remembered his father’s +weakness in interfering to save the life that stood +between him and Kincorth, as he thought of all the +oaths Archibald Drewitt had sworn when the fever +passed away about dividing the estate, about giving +his brother a share, about all he would do for the +children, about how he would never marry, never look +with love on the face of any woman again, but live +single, and bring up Maxwell and his sisters as though +they were his own son and daughters.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If an amiable man does us a wrong we hate him +fifty times more than if he were as black as Erebus—hate +him because the world joins issue with us on the +question. Had Archibald Drewitt been like Maxwell +Drewitt, nephew and uncle could have fought the +matter out on equal social grounds; but as it was +society could never be made to believe that Archibald +Drewitt could be wrong, for which reason Maxwell +Drewitt hated him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was hard. I can imagine no cross harder to +bear than that of a man like Maxwell Drewitt placed +in Maxwell Drewitt’s position.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In England such a position would have been bad +enough; in England, where any one with courage, and +industry, and cleverness, may eventually make his +way; but in Ireland, in Connemara, in a country where +trade is looked down upon, where work is ignominy, +where there are but two classes—the very rich who +do nothing, and the very poor who do as little as they +can help, my reader, think of it!—think of a gentleman +beggar—of a man who had all the instincts +of his class—who looked upon a merchant as an inferior +<span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>being—who had been brought up to no profession—whose +proud stomach could never have +brooked the idea of business—who laughed scornfully +at Samuel Turner’s well-meant postscript—who would +have tried to keep up the name and the property and +the family dignity,—and who was still a pauper.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Think of it. He was hardly done by, and all the +more hardly, perhaps, because Kincorth belonged to +an interloper—to one of those younger sons who, +since the time of the patriarchs, have been continually +putting the noses of elder sons out of joint.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Never a Drewitt before had thought of making +money; but Maxwell was determined to make it now. +He was born in advance of his age; the men of thirty +years ago did not think much of draining, of subsoils, +of top-dressing, of the rotation of crops, and for that +matter indeed to look at Connemara now, one would +think that the men of the present day thought as little +of these matters as their predecessors.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Once Maxwell had visited England—once he had +seen corn growing, where for centuries previously +nothing had thriven save rushes and reeds and wild +fowl. He had asked how the change was effected, +how the morass was turned into a garden, the +wilderness into a fruitful plain; and while his host +told him he thought of Galway—thought of the +rushes and the bogs there—thought as only an +Irishman can think of his native country, and of the +best way of bettering his condition.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In England, too, he saw smiling cottages, well-fed +men and women, children with clothes on their +back and shoes to their feet. Again he asked for +information, and again he was told that these men, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>who were better clad than the best tenants who reluctantly +came to Kincorth in May and November, +were not landholders, only labourers.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is it,” thought Maxwell Drewitt, then only a +lad; “the small farms are the curse of Ireland. Our +tenants ought to be our labourers—that is it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And he went back, Irish like, making fun of the +English for having a good dinner, and yet scorning +his countrymen for being contented with potatoes and +salt. It is the Irishman of thirty years ago and more +I am talking about, remember. It is not to be supposed +the Irishman of 1865 bears more than the +faintest family resemblance to him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At any rate, the individual whose story I am +telling detested the English as English, and yet was +willing to learn a lesson out of their book of prosperity. +He liked the flesh-pots, but he hated the country. He +loved the wealth, but he could not stand the accent. +He could have horsewhipped the first Irish peasant he +saw shrinking out of the way of his galloping horse, +and yet he thought the English too independent.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Look at England,” he would say in Ireland, and +yet in his heart, while he was in England, he loved +Irish ways and Irish manners best.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He thought of those great English farmers riding +their thoroughbreds, sending their daughters to boarding-schools, +walking to church beside their wives, who +were dressed in silks and merinos, and then he looked +into Irish hovels, where the owner of the soil—owner +so far as paying his rent can make a man so—never +knew what it was to eat an egg laid by his own hens, +to taste butter made from his own cows’ milk, year +after year.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>“It is all wrong,” concluded Maxwell Drewitt; +“these men ought to be labourers: they ought to be +eating fat bacon and drinking strong ale like the +English. How <i>do</i> the English make money as if it +was to be picked up by the road side? Give Galway +to them and in twenty years they would be advertising +villa sites—villa sites”—and the young man looked +away towards the mountains and smiled to think how +soon the Cockneys could spoil Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But they would live like fighting cocks out of it—they +would,” finished Maxwell Drewitt; “and it is +a burning shame and a crying disgrace that the Irish +cannot do the same.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We do very well as we are, Max,” said his uncle, +when he propounded these heretical doctrines to him. +“Let well alone. The Almighty never intended us to +be like England or he would not have given us such +an iron-bound coast. The country is different and the +people are different and our ways are different. If +you put shoes and stockings on the children they +would limp along the roads. If you washed their faces +and sent them to school they would cry their eyes out. +If you put Davy Blake into an English farmhouse +and told his wife she must keep it clean, they would +be wretched. Each nation goes through the centuries +its own way, as each man travels to heaven by a different +road. Many a person has tried to mend us, +and many a person has come to grief. Stick to your +horse across country, Maxwell, and leave the rights +and wrongs of Ireland to those whose business it is to +study them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Admirable advice doubtless, and kindly meant; +but then the giver was a man whose way had been +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>made for him, and the receiver had to try and make +his own way as best he could. And gold mines were +not common in that part of the country. Money was +not lying under foot as it was reported to be in London; +where, however, Colonel Dyak had not improved +his opportunities any more than Mr. Archibald Drewitt +had improved his, in Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No two men ever travelled to the dogs at so equal +a pace as the Englishman about town and the Irish +country gentleman. They went by different roads, but +their destination was the same: and yet each looked +up to the other, and while Dyak thought Drewitt was +rolling in wealth, Drewitt considered Dyak an individual +without a care.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They had met after a fashion common enough in +Galway. Colonel Dyak went there to fish, and Mr. +Drewitt coming across him one day, on the shores of +one of the innumerable lakes, asked him to dinner.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Colonel Dyak accepted the invitation, and +ate Mr. Drewitt’s mutton and drank his claret, and +rode his horses every day for six weeks; at the end +of which time he insisted on carrying his host back to +London with him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nothing loth, Mr. Drewitt went over twice, and +the second time he returned to Kincorth it was as an +engaged man; who by way of bettering his prospects +had asked a young and portionless woman to cast in +her lot with his.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was one kind of wife who might have saved +both him and Kincorth. A wife with a clear head +and a strong will, able to carry things with a high hand—clever +and active and determined and economical +withal, would have queened it at the old place and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>kept the mortgaged acres together; but, as a matter of +course, Miss Dyak was gentle and loving and trusting—a +woman perfectly incompetent to fight out any +battle—a woman with a sweet placid face—with +calm, thoughtful eyes—with smooth, glossy hair—with +a soft, white, satiny skin—with a low voice—with +timid, caressing manners—with no head to +plan; but with a heart to be broken.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is hard for me to write about her—hard for +me to go on from this point and tell of the storms and +rain that fell upon that drooping head—of the trials +and crosses that bowed that poor heart before she lay +down to sleep the only really peaceful slumber our +poor humanity knows.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She was not the wife for Mr. Drewitt, and Mr. +Drewitt was not the husband for her; but notwithstanding +that, they chose to take one another for better +or for worse.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was no better to the matter, however—it +was all worse; it was like everything Archibald Drewitt +did or proposed to do—a mistake.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Colonel Dyak was charmed with the match, and +delighted with his son-in-law elect. He had enjoyed +himself greatly at Kincorth. He knew Mr. Drewitt’s +horses were capital. He had landed salmon twelve +pounds weight. The lakes in Galway were alive with +fish: the mountains were covered with game.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A fine country, I believe,” remarked one of his +club acquaintance to him. “Magnificent scenery, they +tell me—monstrous properties—capable of being +improved to any extent.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Whereupon Colonel Dyak broke ground.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A fine country! Why, sir, there is not an Englishman +<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>breathing knows what a country it is; there is +not a Londoner would believe in such scenery being +within five hundred miles of him unless he saw it. +Mountains! I couldn’t tell you how high they are. +Lakes! God only knows how many hundred lakes I +saw in one day. Harbours! why the coast is a succession +of front doors facing America. Rivers! if you +turned the Thames the other way, and made it run +from Yorkshire south, it would not be half so fine as +the Shannon. Fuel! you can’t imagine what a magnificent +fire turf makes. Land! there are thousands upon +thousands of acres that have never been turned up by +a plough. Labour! eightpence to tenpence a day in +the summer, sixpence to eightpence in the winter. +Society! I never was among a more jovial set of +people in my life. Ay, that is a country! with building +materials lying by the wayside, with granite roads, +with marble quarries, silver mines, rock and mountain +and lake and sea. You must come to Galway with me +sometime and judge for yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I should like to go greatly,” was the reply. “I +am curious to know why such a country should not +prosper.” And the little Londoner took snuff, and then +adjusted his double eye-glasses, thinking doubtless that +he could solve the problem, which is about as dark as +the Sphinx, in a scamper through Ireland.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That is one of the beauties of Ireland, I may here +remark. Everybody imagines, when he begins the +pleasing study of her manifold sorrows, of her excessive +poverty, that he has got hold of the right end of +the stick at last; that he has hit on the word with +which in some remote age the puzzle was locked so +carefully that no one has ever been able to open it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>since; and led on by this delusion, he proceeds triumphantly +only to discover that the riddle seems to +have no solution, that all arguments about the sister +island work in a circle, and return to the same point +in the end.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Colonel Dyak, however, was a man who did not +trouble himself with questions of this kind. He took +things as he found them: if they were well, he was +pleased; if they were ill, he trusted they would right +themselves in time; and if they did not right themselves, +it still was no business of his; and he felt something +more than satisfied with the match his daughter +proposed to herself, although her intended husband’s +property was situated in Ireland; in a country the nonprosperity +whereof puzzled the wise head of his club +acquaintance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Good fishing, good shooting, good hunting could +not, however, quite reconcile Mrs. Dyak to the idea of +Agnes throwing herself away upon a commoner, and +that commoner a man unable to make satisfactory marriage +settlements upon her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If she <i>must</i> marry,” remarked the eldest daughter, +who, on the strength of having secured a baronet, took +upon herself airs in the family cabinet—“if she <i>must</i> +marry a baronet, why did she not make sure that he +was a rich one?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But your papa says, my love,” put in Mrs. Dyak, +mildly, “that Mr. Drewitt’s income is fifteen thousand +a year.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“More likely fifteen hundred,” answered Lady +Ebbutt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And he settles an estate of I think it is two thousand +<span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>acres on Agnes,” went on Mrs. Dyak, not heeding +her daughter’s remark.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Depend upon it the estate is a mountain, mamma,” +said the baronet’s wife.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, Bertha, whether it is a mountain or not we +cannot help ourselves in the matter now. Agnes and +her papa have set their minds on the match; and indeed, +my dear, I may tell you in confidence, that as +we could not have afforded another season in town, it +is a great blessing Aggy has made a choice. For we +must go abroad, and what chance would there be of +her marrying abroad, tell me that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Lady Ebbutt declined to gratify her mother’s +desire: she only observed that she thought it would be +better for her parents to reside in Ireland rather than +on the Continent.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Papa would like it of all things,” she finished.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I should not,” answered Mrs. Dyak, and the conversation +dropped.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thus the marriage was finally agreed to by all the +parties interested. As a matter of course Mrs. Dyak +protested against it, and maintained for some time sufficient +coolness of demeanour to impress Mr. Drewitt +with a due sense of the honour Miss Dyak had conferred +upon him by accepting his hand, and the very +moderate settlement that accompanied it; but in the +end Mrs. Dyak gracefully gave way; and in a very +fashionable church, and attended by a little crowd of +bridesmaids, Archibald Drewitt and Agnes Dyak were +made man and wife.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a very gay wedding. There were plenty +of grand people in the church: there was no lack of +fashionable guests at the breakfast.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>Everything was in the best style. It was Colonel +Dyak’s last shot, and he did not spare the powder. +Any one might have thought his yearly income something +enormous. Even Mr. Drewitt wondered how it +happened that behind such a marriage feast there +should be no marriage settlement, little dreaming that +if there had been, Miss Dyak would never have been +permitted to marry a man who lived in Ireland, who +had no house in London, or even in Dublin, who never +resided abroad for any part of the year, and whose +estates were embarrassed to such an extent that only +two or three people had other than the faintest idea +which part of his property belonged to him and which +to his mortgagees.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a nice fate, truly, that Agnes Dyak was +robed that morning, all in pure white, to go out to +meet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who shall say that human sacrifices have ceased +to be offered in Britain?” whispered one cynical bachelor +to his neighbour, when the pair joined hands and took +one another till death should part them. “Who shall +say there are no victims slain on the horns of the altar +now?” And the speaker laughed, and his friend laughed, +and the friend said the idea was “devilish good,” and +the speaker thought in his heart that he had put it +rather neatly, while both forgot how true many words +spoken in jest may be; and neither imagined that when +Agnes Drewitt walked down the long aisle a wife, she +was walking on, at the same time, to endure her +martyrdom.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV.<br> <span class='c011'>Coming Home.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>When a man goes a-wooing, he does not, as a rule, +turn the worst side of his affairs out for the inspection +of his ladye love and his ladye love’s family. Rather +on the contrary: he is apt to throw a little <i>couleur de +rose</i> over his prospects, and to insist that all whom the +matter may concern shall view the landscape through +that medium, instead of by any truer light.</p> + +<p class='c013'>This had been Mr. Drewitt’s policy, at all events. +He had kept his advantages in the foreground—his +drawbacks well in the rear. He intended to reform +Kincorth, so what use could there be in talking about +its previous state of wretched mismanagement? He +was quite determined to make a radical change with +regard to Maxwell and his sisters; so why, when the +Drewitts’ soiled linen was all going straight off to the +laundress, should he trouble himself to wash it in +London, in the sight of the enemy?</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Only let me get this election business over,” +thought Mr. Drewitt, “and I will send the two younger +girls to school, and try if I cannot buy or beg Maxwell +a commission. Susan is my greatest difficulty. I +wish to heaven somebody would marry her. I might +manage a small portion.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Alas! and alas! for the good intentions unfulfilled, +for the faithful promises broken, for the debt of gratitude +that had now become burdensome, for the trust +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>he had broken, for the noble plans he had never carried +out.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Is there nothing pitiful to you, my reader, in the +picture of this middle-aged man, whose work remained +for ever undone, who had planned in youth to reap +such abundant harvests, but who stood now, in the very +prime and summer of his age, with the spring crops +still unsown, with the fields of his life bare and barren, +with the broad lands of opportunity still untilled, with +his Lord’s talents still unemployed—still bringing in +no interest against the day when his accounts would +be required of him?</p> + +<p class='c013'>If we miss the seed time, what shall we even think +of casting into the ground when our neighbours’ wheat +is ripening? Even such poor intentions as Mr. Drewitt +now muttered to himself, in lieu of those great honest +designs that he had once promised to work out for the +benefit of his brother’s children. Half his wealth, all +his influence, all his care, had come to a vague commission +for Maxwell, a possible school for Wilhelmina +and Kathleen, and an uncertain fortune for the <i>bête +noir</i> of the establishment, Susan Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was all wrong together—the time had not +been redeemed, the seed had not been sown, the talent +had not been put out at usury—it was all wrong; +and so Archibald Drewitt found when the harvest time +arrived, and there was no grain for the gathering.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But in those bright sunshiny days, when he brought +home his bride, the summer sun was gladdening the +earth, the autumn was afar off; and cursed with that +peculiar temperament which always believes that “the +future is the time to mend,” Archibald Drewitt made +himself happy in the present, and still permitted his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>wife to view her future prospects through the medium +of that stained glass to which I have already referred.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She knew, of course, that Maxwell and his sisters +resided at Kincorth; and if there was anything unpleasant +to hear about them she would become acquainted +with it soon enough, seeing that she was travelling +home as fast as a very indifferent pair of post +horses could take her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell had been right. London is a long distance +from Galway now, and in the days of which I am +writing it was further still.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It had cost Mr. Drewitt some ready money to get +to London at all, and although he was the bridegroom, +it had cost him more to get married. Elsewhere the +fact has been stated that coin of the realm and Mr. +Drewitt were comparative strangers—adding all of +which together, the result arrived at is that a bridal +tour was beyond his means, that he could only do +what he did do, viz., bring home his wife with as little +delay as possible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>We read that when Elijah the Tishbite fled from +the wrath of Jezebel he journeyed into the wilderness, +and travelled thence forty days and forty nights, till +he came to that cave in Horeb where his wanderings +ended.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the wilderness, on the mountain, the queen’s +anger was impotent to hurt him—towards those fastnesses, +the hand of that “cursed woman” was stretched +out in vain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When, in the after-time, Agnes Drewitt heard the +story of the prophet recited, she always fancied that +from all the haunts of men, from all the towns and +cities in which Baal was worshipped, Elijah must have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>fled to a country like Connemara, where, beside lonely +lakes, the plover whistles and the bittern cries, where +desolation reigns supreme, where there is a solitude +which may be heard, a silence which has a voice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Under the shadow of those never-ending mountains +they travelled on; beside those interminable lakes the +road wound in and about. Away to the left were hills +without end; to the right the blue conical mountains +reared their heads towards heaven. In the valley—which +has no end, but runs between chains of mountain, +the commencement of which lies so far behind that +one forgets when a view of any extent of level land +was last obtained—in the valley, I say, the very +genius of desolation appeared to Mrs. Drewitt to have +taken up his abode.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Here were no smiling fields, no neat farmhouses, +no cows luxuriating in pleasant pastures, no gentlemen’s +seats, no hedges, no gardens, no homesteads. +Mile after mile stretched away the valley; no turn in +the road brought with it a change of scene; and often, +as the road turned, far as the valley extended, nothing +met the eye save lonely lakes and swiftly-flowing +streams, thousands of acres of bog land, thousands more +of moor, where a few sheep and a few ponies grazed +at will among the blocks of granite and the huge +boulders, that, becoming detached from the mountain +side, had fallen through the centuries, and still lay +where they had fallen.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lakes where water-lilies float, where the tall reeds +grow sparingly—lakes, the shores of which are bog +and moorland—lakes that for number are well-nigh +countless, that are desolate, and solitary beyond all +power of description; rivers that wind not between +<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>wooded banks, or in deep beds of their own digging, +but that crawl on in the summer over stone and granite, +and that in winter spread wide as they like over moorland +and bog, carrying with them detached fragments of +rock, which seem in the arms of the mighty flood to be +borne lightly as feathers, away and away! A country +without wood, without a house; a country where it seemed +out of place, out of keeping, to meet a living being. +This was what Agnes Drewitt saw as the post-horses +laboured up the hills, or were lashed into a weary +canter down them; this was the strange land which +she was entering as a pilgrim and a stranger, wherein +she was going to try to make her home.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is all very well to travel through these Irish +Highlands. The kingdom of Connemara is a grand +kingdom, and the guide-books do not exaggerate when +they call its scenery solemn and sublime; but it is one +thing to visit a country and another to reside in it. +The young Englishwoman looked out with dread and +dismay on those over-shadowing mountains, on those +endless lakes that looked stern and desolate even with +the summer’s sun shining down upon them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The wilderness Elijah fled through could not have +been more lonely than Connemara; the cave at the +mouth whereof he stood while the strong wind passed +by, and the earthquake shook the hills, and the fire +flashed before him, might have been in just such a +mountain as any of those that frowned upon her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Ahab’s wrath was powerless to touch the prophet +there; the king’s writ, she had heard, was not worth a +halfpenny in the land through which she was travelling; +and Mrs. Drewitt was just thinking of this saying, +and wondering what such a savage country would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>be like when winter’s frosts covered the ground, when +winter’s rains and snows swelled the torrents,—when +suddenly, the road taking a sharp curve, the view +changed—the bogs and the lakes and the mountains +were left behind, and the sea burst upon her view.</p> + +<p class='c013'>How shall words ever give even the faintest idea +of the exquisite beauty and peace of that summer’s +evening scene? How can pen and ink ever tell how +green looked the grassy knolls that lay down by the +shore; how fair were the islands in Duranmore Bay; +how soft, and rich, and mellow the golden light that +lay on wood and water, that steeped the trees and fell +in great patches on the hill sides? With what a glad +sound of welcome the “sweet chimes of the waves” +sung their low song in the stranger’s ear! “From +Newfoundland and from Labrador,” as has been happily +said, they had come “to mingle their voice in harmony,” +on that sea-beat shore; and Agnes Drewitt fancied +she knew what they were telling her, and listened +to their melody with an answering music swelling in +her breast.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was like heaven bursting upon her view; it was +like light after darkness; it was like liberty after +slavery; it was like everything her fancy had painted—her +heart desired; it was beautiful—it was perfect; +and Agnes Drewitt, young, impressionable, imaginative, +basked in the loveliness and the sunshine, and was +happy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On one of the roads through Connemara there is a +stone bearing the singular statement that from there it +is twenty-one miles to Hell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Where the Hell referred to may be—whether in +this world or the next—I am unable to tell; but I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>am sure had Mrs. Drewitt been intrusted with the preparation +of a table of distances she would have called +Duranmore heaven, and given it as the ultimate destination +of all tourists in Galway.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That sweet bay! those soft green hills! those grand +headlands! seemed beautiful—thrice beautiful, after +the bleak desolation, the utter loneliness of the wilderness +through which she had passed; and she leaned +forward in the carriage and strained her eyes over the +landscape, while she said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How exquisite! How perfect!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is Kincorth,” said Mr. Drewitt, pointing to +the northern side of the bay. “That is Kincorth,” and +he sighed as he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c013'>From sea, from hill, from wood, from mountain +Agnes Drewitt withdrew her eager gaze, to turn towards +her husband and inquire the meaning of that sigh. She +was a clinging creature, reader, a woman who could +not bear the sight of unhappiness, the sound of woe; +she was a loving woman, who could not endure that +her husband should have a care or a sorrow hidden +from her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Why did he sigh? Was he tired? Was he ill? +Was he unhappy? And the little hand stole out to +clasp his, and the sweet eyes turned towards him full of +a ready sympathy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Unhappy!” he answered, carried away by one of +those impulses he was as impotent as a child to control. +“Unhappy! I have never been happy before. I never +knew the meaning of the word till I saw you. I never +felt peace, perfect peace till I sat thus, with your hand +clasped in mine. If I sighed it was because I felt at +last happy and contented—as one takes a long, deep +<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>breath, when sitting down, after a weary journey, to +rest. Do you understand me, darling? Life has been +that journey, and you are the rest to me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She did not understand him then, though she comprehended +his meaning perfectly afterwards. She did +not know that instead of bringing her home to comfort +and bless her, he was bringing her home to comfort +and bless him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A slight, fragile thing she was, yet strong enough +for this poor, weak, unstable creature to lean against +and feel secure. From that day forth she was to be +the crutch and he the cripple; she the rock and he the +billow; she the nest and he the bird. Maxwell Drewitt +had sketched the outline of her future life to perfection; +but he had not been equally accurate in calling +her choice mercenary, her marriage an interested one.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had elected to cast her lot with Archibald +Drewitt because she loved him; and loving him, she +would have gone through fire and water for his sake.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is strange that such men are able to secure such +wives; but it is not more strange than that the most +unselfish of men draw so often viragos out of the +matrimonial lottery.</p> + +<p class='c013'>We hear a great deal about the balance of power; +is this the balance (matrimonially) of good and evil?</p> + +<p class='c013'>After his little lament about having found life’s +paths rough and dreary, Mr. Drewitt became both +talkative and cheerful, and discoursed concerning the +improvements he purposed effecting, concerning the +alterations he intended making.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Next year,” he said, “I will rebuild the porter’s +lodge; and you shall draw me a pretty design for +one.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>In her heart Agnes thought that a new lodge ought +to be erected at once; but she had sense enough not to +say so, and merely remarked that the creepers and +climbers which covered the damp walls and the broken +roof were extremely picturesque.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Irish picturesqueness, however, could not make up +to this stranger from a wealthier land for the absence +of all comfort, for the ruined walls, for the unmown +grass, for the unrolled gravel, for the unswept walks.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The place, as Maxwell Drewitt in his pride thought +he could keep it, would have suited Mrs. Drewitt a vast +deal better than Kincorth, as it was.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Within the gates, under the arching trees, the old +feeling of loneliness and desolation came upon her once +more, and she shivered she scarcely knew why; and +Mr. Drewitt wrapped her shawl more closely round her, +while he whispered tenderly—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Welcome home, my darling; welcome home.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>They were on the very threshold of home now; but +no one came forth to greet her. The hall door stood +wide, but no servant was there—no relation, no +living thing to meet the woman who, with that lonely +feeling growing stronger every moment, walked into +the house which she never left for any other habitation +until she passed from under its roof-tree in middle age, +with children beside her, with youth behind her, wearing +widow’s weeds for the husband of her choice, old +before her time, with wrinkles across her forehead, +with silver threads sprinkled through her rich dark +hair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When I come to tell you of how she left Kincorth, +I would ask you to remember how she entered it—how +she stood in the hall while the driver brought in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>the luggage and her husband fee’d him handsomely +with almost the last money in his purse, how she followed +Mr. Drewitt as he flung open the door of room +after room to find each in succession empty, how she +sat down finally in a little breakfast parlour and +watched her husband first pull the bell till he broke +it, and then go to the kitchens personally, to summon +assistance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the distance she heard him rating and raging +and cursing and swearing as she had never heard any +one rate and rage and curse and swear before; and +then the tempest lulled as suddenly as it had arisen, +and Mr. Drewitt returned, followed by Nannie, who, +curtseying reverentially to her new mistress, at once +broke the ice with,</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s welcome home ye are, ma’am, and shure an’ +we did not expec’ ye for a couple of hours yit, Mr. Maxwell +said—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Show your mistress her room, Nannie,” interrupted +Mr. Drewitt, “and I’ll see to the trunks being taken +up. And Agnes, my darling,” he murmured, while +Nannie, who was “up to the manœuvres of new-married +folks,” discreetly left the room, “if the house seems +cold to you just at first, don’t be vexed; they did not +mean it, they did not know.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She lifted her sweet face to his, but she did not +raise her eyes, for they were full of tears, and she did +not want him to see that they were so. It was all +mightily unlike the coming home she had so foolishly +pictured to herself. No friendly hands stretched out +towards her! no warm Irish words of welcome! But +she would not let that discourage her: she would be +brave, she would be strong, and do her duty.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>She made this vow to herself with her husband’s +kiss warm on her lips. And she was strong, she did +do her duty, and she had her reward.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ shure, ma’am, an’ it’s myself is heartily glad +to see a mistress comin’ home till the ould place,” remarked +Nannie, as she assisted Mrs. Drewitt to change +her dress and unpack her boxes, and put some portion +of their contents in order. “The lonely dissolate place +this has been, the Lord knows, wantin’ a lady to keep +things straight and genteel. An’ ye have come all the +way from London, I hear; and it’s a terrible big place, +they tells me. I hope ye won’t be feelin’ lonesome +here, ma’am; for though it is a fine country—God +bless it!—ye’ll know it strange and solitary like at +first.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>At that Agnes Drewitt gave way, and she stooped +her head for a minute while her tears fell fast as rain. +Then she recovered herself and said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is strange and solitary; you are right. You +have put what I was feeling into words for me; but it +is a fine country, and I will love it for my husband’s +sake, and I will love its people too, if they will let +me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They would be mighty queer people if they did +not love ye back, my lady,” answered Nannie, in all +sincerity; “so don’t fret, ma’am, but just give them the +pleasant word and the bright smile and they’ll come to +like you so well they’ll forget you’re not Irish.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Having administered which piece of comfort Nannie +proceeded with her folding and straightening, and Mrs. +Drewitt bathed the traces of tears from her cheeks preparatory +to returning to the room where she had left +her husband.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>Mr. Drewitt was not there, however, when she +descended; but she met in his stead a young man who, +with his hat on his head, and his hands buried deep +in his pockets, was whistling to himself that loveliest +of all the Irish airs—Cushla ma cree.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At sight of Mrs. Drewitt he pulled his hands out +of his pockets, took his hat off his head, and introduced +himself to her as Maxwell Drewitt. “And these are +my sisters,” he added, as three girls came trooping +into the room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And consequently my nieces,” finished Mrs. Drewitt, +kissing them all round; an attention the young +ladies seemed to regard as altogether superfluous and +ill-timed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Does she know who we are really?” thought Maxwell +Drewitt, as he saw Mrs. Drewitt’s glance resting +first on his sisters’ shabby dresses, and then reverting +to her own rich attire. “Does she know I ought to be +master here—that I am the eldest son of the eldest +son? or can she fancy we are pauper dependents on +the bounty of her husband? I will take care she does +not long remain in a state of blissful ignorance about +that matter.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And he did take care; before three days he had +found opportunity to tell her the whole story; before +three days he had opened the skeleton-closet at Kincorth, +and anatomized its contents for her benefit.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is very hard for them, and it is very hard for +me,” argued poor Mrs. Drewitt; “but I will try to do +my duty by them—and by everybody about the place. +I will—I will—I will.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V.<br> <span class='c011'>Peacemaking.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Doing one’s duty (a charming phrase in the abstract, +doubtless) is usually much less agreeable in +practice than in theory, seeing that it generally involves +annoying oneself, and displeasing other people.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No credit attaches to it, because after all we have +only done what we ought to have done; duty goes to +bed weary and rises early; duty darns stockings and +turns its dresses; duty does needlework, and pricks its +fingers in the process; duty tends the sick and humours +the fretful; duty gives to the poor, and goes about clad +in the garments of humility; and for many and many +a long day—perhaps until, there being no more +duties to be performed in this world, it betakes itself +to the next—duty has the felicity of receiving all +the kicks of which society is so liberal, while halfpence +and silver and gold are showered upon those +who do not go in for duty at all, but simply for +pleasure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There is nothing so hard to discharge, satisfactorily, +as our duty; there is nothing for which we get so little +thanks. It is like work looked down upon as a vulgar +virtue: and yet when the small sums that go to make +up life’s great account come to be cast out, duty and +work may be found to have borne good interest; though +the one has oftentimes seemed to our eyes but as the +toil of the ant, and the other but useless labour, but +misspent energy.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>Shall we say for all this, however, that the weakest +among us is right to drift with the stream—to make +no effort to stem its torrent? Would it have been better +for Mrs. Drewitt to have never attempted to mend the +ways of that wretched Irish household?</p> + +<p class='c013'>She never achieved a great deal, but she did something. +After all it is not given to many women to +accomplish much, and she tried her best; and, as I +have said before, in the long run she had her reward.</p> + +<p class='c013'>During the first few weeks of her residence at +Kincorth the establishment was in a state of anarchy, +for was not the election coming on, and did not an +election always upset everything?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Gentlemen from Dublin—gentlemen from England—gentlemen +from the remotest parts of the country +came to Kincorth the moment Mr. Drewitt’s return was +announced, and took up their quarters there.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was breakfast all the morning—it was luncheon +all the day—it was dinner all the night—it was +noise and confusion and excitement from one sunrise +to another.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Canvassing was about the last work Mrs. Drewitt +was fitted for, but out canvassing she had to go, with +the Honourable Mrs. Munks and the Countess of +Popingham.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was not a description of bribery she did not +see practised.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am hungry,” Lady Popingham would say, with +her arch Irish face lighted up by a very intelligible +smile; and she would go into a baker’s shop in Duranmore +and ask for a bun.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You’re for Pryor?” she would remark—her mouth +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>full of new bread, and her small fingers fiddling with +half her purchase—“You’re for Pryor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, I am not quite determined, my lady. They +were in here the other day, and were bidding uncommon +high; but your ladyship understands that I never +did sell my vote, and I never will.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is honest and independent, is it not, Mrs. +Drewitt?” observed the Countess. “I suppose you will +not consider it bribery though to ask you to a ball, +Mr. Rorke? There is to be one over at Kincorth to-morrow +night, and Mrs. Drewitt will be very glad to +see you there.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And with that Lady Popingham left her unfinished +bun on the counter, and the baker said he would come +and bring “the wife.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And we may count on you, Mr. Rorke,” remarked +the Countess, from the doorstep; “you would rather +give your vote to us than sell it to Mr. Pryor.” At +which observation the man laughed and the lady +laughed, and the bread was swept into the till, and +the Conservatives could count one more on their +side.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is not in flesh and blood to be near a contested +election and not to become interested in it; and before +long Mrs. Drewitt found herself doing what she could +to secure voters and to please their wives. She danced +with the men—she danced with that identical baker—and +had for her <i>vis-à-vis</i> Lady Marsden and a +Duranmore butcher. She invited a hundred frieze-coated +men into the drawing-room and sang for them +till she was hoarse. She ordered some thousands of +yards of blue ribbon, and paid for it herself; and she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>and Lady Popingham and Mrs. Munks made it up into +rosettes for future use.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mrs. Drewitt had expected her nieces to assist her +in the work; but Susan, for self and fellows, flatly +declined to do anything of the kind.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If we wear anything we shall wear red,” she said. +“Our brother is for Mr. Pryor; and we are for Mr. +Pryor too.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>At this Mrs. Drewitt drew back astounded.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you mean,” she said, “that Maxwell and Mr. +Drewitt are on different sides?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Our mother was a Roman Catholic,” explained +Miss Drewitt; “and it is only right that Maxwell +should remember that, and vote accordingly.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If it were not for landlord terrorism,” put in +Wilhelmina—she was usually called Willy—“no +one who was not for the Catholics would ever be returned +in Ireland.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The very servants about the house are all for +Pryor,” added Susan, “only they would be discharged +if they were to say so.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And Maxwell was telling us that if you had been +wise you would not have taken so active a part in the +canvassing, because it will set the poor people against +you,” capped Wilhelmina.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But I only did it to please your uncle, and he is +liked by every one.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Perhaps so,” answered Miss Drewitt, with a sneer; +“but at any rate <i>he</i> is not English.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And that makes a difference, you think?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That makes all the difference, I know.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Miss Susan Drewitt drew up her tall figure +and looked down upon her aunt, who was at least +<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>half a head shorter, as she made this pleasant remark.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s just beyond me, childer,” said Nannie to +them one day, “till understand what delight ye can +find in making that craythur’s life a burden till her; +she has not a bit the same look in her face she had +when she came here first.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She had no business to come here at all,” answered +Miss Drewitt. “Ireland for the Irish, as Maxwell says: +we want no strangers here.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But shure and it’s most of all because she is a +stranger that ye ought to be good till her, so that she +might not always be fretting for the country and the +friends she has left behind her. Why can’t ye make it +up, young ladies, and live agreeable? See, now, how +Miss Kathleen has taken to her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are an old hypocrite, Nannie,” returned Miss +Drewitt. “You and Miss Kathleen both like Mrs. Drewitt +for the sake of what she gives you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Now may I niver, Miss Susan! may I niver die +in my bed if the mistress—God grant her a long +life!—ever give me more than ‘Thank ye, Nannie,’ +or ‘If ye plaze.’ Miss Kathleen has I know got many +a thing from her; but I mind hearing you, Miss Susan, +tell your aunt, when she wanted you to get that illigant +blue silk let down and wear it yourself, that +your brother would not allow you to wear any person’s +cast-off gowns, ye did; and ye knew she had never +had that same silk on her back; and she went away +to her own room and cried so pitiful! I’d have gone +in and told her never to heed what you said, for +that nobody did, only I was afraid she might be +angry.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>“Well, I tell you what, Nannie,” said Willy, at +this juncture; “if you get her to give me that new +riding-habit she brought over with her, I’ll be friends, +for I am rather sick of war.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If you take it you are quits with me,” remarked +her sister.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is no chance of your giving me a riding-habit, +Sue,” retorted the other, “and I do want one +so badly; Loo Munks is so proud of hers from Dublin, +and it is nothing like such a beauty as Mrs. Drewitt’s. +Ask her, Nannie, like a good old soul, which you’re +not, and see if she will give it to me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Give it to you! she would cut the hair off her +head and give it away if she thought it could pleasure +you; but I won’t ask, faith I won’t, for she has only +the one, and it’s meself hopes to see her riding with +the masther over to Tully Kill whenever the hunting +begins again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then I will ask her,” said Wilhelmina; and she +was rushing into the drawing-room to prefer her request, +when the sound of angry voices and loud speaking +frightened her back.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was Mr. Drewitt and Maxwell having it out concerning +the election—concerning Maxwell’s canvass +of Colonel Vervensoe’s tenantry.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He was over here himself this morning,” said +Mr. Drewitt</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was not likely he would come over as anybody +else,” remarked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t mock me, sir,” shouted out the owner of +Kincorth. “Keep your insolence for other people, for +d—n me if I’ll stand it. And I won’t stand your interference, +either, You shall not tamper with our voters. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>Vote for Pryor yourself if you like, and be hanged to +you; but don’t try to get up a party against me, I +advise you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I was not aware you were going to stand,” observed +Maxwell, coolly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You know I am for Sache, at any rate,” retorted +Mr. Drewitt, “and you know you turned round to Pryor +without ever telling me your intention, without ever +saying a word to put me on my guard. And now +listen to this: Colonel Vervensoe swears that if ever he +finds you about his house again, he will horsewhip +you; and he is a man to keep his promise.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He had better not try to horsewhip me,” said +Maxwell, slowly, “not if he values his life; for so +sure as he attempts it, I’ll break every bone in his +body.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is a stronger man than you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is he?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And he declares he will not have his tenantry +tampered with, or endure any man dangling after his +wife.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He must speak to Lady Emmeline about that. +If she likes me to canvass with her, I shall certainly +do it, and I shall do my best to get Geoffry Pryor returned, +if the devil himself tried to stop me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You shall not.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I shall;” and Maxwell turned to leave the room, +but Mr. Drewitt prevented him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Look here, Maxwell,” he said, “it is time you +and I came to an understanding.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh! Archibald,” implored Mrs. Drewitt, “do not +say any more while you are angry—do not speak while +you are irritated. If Maxwell thinks Mr. Pryor ought +<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>to get in, why should he not canvass for him? I am +certain you are wrong in this matter, love; I am, +indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You know nothing about it, Agnes; you are talking +on subjects you do not understand,” said her husband; +while Maxwell, with a grave bow, thanked her +for her interference, but remarked he and his uncle +had argued out many a point before, and settled many +a dispute, without the help of a third party.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Which speech was intended to cut two ways—to +make Mr. Drewitt more angry than he was, and to +send Mrs. Drewitt out of the room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It did neither. Mrs. Drewitt would not go, because +she felt her presence was some restraint upon both, and +Mr. Drewitt calmed down in a moment, and said, “I +see what you are driving at, Maxwell, but you may as +well save yourself the trouble, for I will not turn you +out of the house.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There are more ways of killing a dog than hanging +him,” answered Maxwell, “and it is possible to +make a place so confoundedly uncomfortable for a man +that he may leave it of his own accord. We need not +quarrel any more, sir,” he went on, his face hardening +and setting as he spoke, “for I shall leave Kincorth +without being shown to the door.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You shall not leave Kincorth,” said Mr. Drewitt, +forgetting his anger in the rush of memories that came +swelling up in his heart. “Vote for whom you like, +I’ll say nothing more to you about it. I may have +been wrong. Don’t go away like this. You shall not +go, Maxwell;” and as he spoke, he laid a detaining +hand on his nephew’s arm.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell shook it off scornfully.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>“It is not in the power of any man to make another +stay in hell,” he answered; “and for many a +long day Kincorth has been like hell to me. You have +my father’s property, but you shan’t have my father’s +son as well;” and with that Maxwell walked past his +uncle, and out of the apartment.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Agnes, stop him, talk to him, don’t let him go,” +said Mr. Drewitt; and only too glad of the order, his +wife ran up to her nephew’s room, at the door of which +she knocked gently.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who is there?” asked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is I,” she answered; “let me in, Maxwell—let +me speak to you. I have something particular to +say; I have, indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is my uncle with you?” he inquired.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, I am here alone; there is no one with me; +let me in, Maxwell, do——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He unlocked the door, and held it open for her to +pass in; then he bolted and locked it, putting the key +in his pocket; after which he placed the only chair the +apartment boasted for her to sit on, and shutting a box +he had just commenced packing, he sat down himself, +and waited patiently for her to commence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All round the room Mrs. Drewitt’s glance wandered. +She had often been in it before, and done her +best to make it more comfortable for its occupant; but +now it seemed to her to look more bare and wretched +than ever, and she wondered whether she had done +right in letting Maxwell keep his den, instead of insisting +on his occupying some of the spare chambers +on the first floor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Those spare chambers had been full of guests almost +ever since her own arrival, so that she need +<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>scarcely have blamed herself in the matter; but Mrs. +Drewitt was one of those women who always magnify +their own shortcomings, and she could have burst out +crying to think Maxwell was going, and she should +never have a chance of doing better for him than +that.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He half guessed what she was thinking about, and +said:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You have done as much for it as could be done, +but it is not a very first-rate bedchamber. In the +winter time the rain comes in there, and there, and +there, and the wind blows the candle out, and it is +damp, and cold, and wretched. Till you came—well, +you know what it was when you came, and I +see what it is now. Don’t think I blame my uncle +for things like this, though,” he added hastily, “or +that I am so effeminate as to care for them. I only +regret the years I have wasted here. I only reproach +my uncle for having let me live here in idleness +when he knew the day must come that I would have +to turn out from even this shelter and earn my living +as I could.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you will not go,” she pleaded; “your uncle +told me to ask you to stay. We will do what we can +for you, only remain—only—only—remain.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And she stretched out her hands imploringly towards +Maxwell, who sat with his hands clasped tightly +together and his head bent down, for a moment +silent after she had ceased speaking. Then he answered:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because you ask me, I would remain if I could; +but I cannot. Mr. Drewitt thinks that he and I might +make up this quarrel; and so, perhaps, we might. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>But if we healed this sore, it would only break out in +a fresh place to-morrow. I am too old now for there +to be peace between us,” he went on fiercely. “He +ought either never to have undertaken to do anything +for us, or he ought to have done it. If he had given +me even a chance of earning my living, I would have +worked and slaved to make myself and my sisters independent. +It could not have been a great expense +had he put me through college; but he never could +afford to send me to Trinity—could not afford with +Kincorth, and Analore, and twenty other nice little +properties beside! When he came into this estate he +had, if you believe me, Mrs. Drewitt, eight thousand +a year clear—I think there was a mortgage on the +place, which brought the rent-roll down to eight thousand—but +a man may live on eight thousand a year,” +finished Maxwell Drewitt, bitterly. “It is a long way +off starvation that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If he has been imprudent,” remarked Mrs. Drewitt, +“he is sorry for that imprudence; if he has never done +anything for you, it is not too late for him to mend +his error now. I am not saying, Maxwell, remember, +that he has acted rightly—indeed, I am afraid he +has been very wrong; but he has done wrong without +intending it, and if you stay, he can try to make reparation.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He has not the means now,” answered Maxwell; +“if he had the will he has not the power. He is mortgaged +up to his ears. There is nothing free, excepting +Kincorth, and Kincorth will have to be pawned to +provide funds to pay for the expenses of this election +and a few other extravagances in which he has lately +been indulging. I have waited long enough—I have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>waited and I have hesitated; but now I will take my +pack on my back and go to seek my fortune.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you will not go at once,” she said. “You +will stay and see—you will not part in anger when +you do leave. Your uncle is dreadfully grieved, and, +Maxwell, you were insolent! You ought not to have +tried his patience as you did.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A beggar has only one weapon, and it is hard if +he may not use that,” replied the young man. “No,” +he continued, “I must either go now or never—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let it be never, then,” she interrupted; but Maxwell +shook his head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mrs. Drewitt,” he said, “I put it to your own +sense. Can I stay here? Would it be well for me to +do so? Would it be wise—would it be manly? +Would you like to see any one you cared for, occupying +the dependent position I fill? Would you not bid +him rather go out and work—earn his bread, rather +than have it given to him?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Perhaps so,” she assented; “but I would have no +one go in anger. Your uncle was saying something +about thinking you might like a commission, Maxwell. +Should you like it? My father might be able to get +you one; or if not, I am positive my brother-in-law +could obtain some government appointment for you, in +England or the colonies. Should you care for that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, thank you, Mrs. Drewitt,” answered Maxwell; +“an officer without private means is only a pauper in +uniform; and besides, to be frank,” he went on, “I +would rather take no favour from your family.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You dislike me so much, I suppose,” she said, a +little flush coming up into her face. She had never +been disliked before, and it hurt her to think she could +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>only make enemies, let her try her best to gain friends. +“You dislike me so much.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not personally,” he replied. “I only dislike you +as being Mr. Drewitt’s wife.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But what difference can being his wife make?” +she asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot tell you that now,” he said, “but perhaps +I may some day. What I can tell you at this moment,” +he proceeded, suddenly returning to the question at +issue, “is, that I wish to leave Kincorth at once, on +account of the election. My uncle wants me to stop +for a similar reason. He thinks it will damage his canvassing +if—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If people imagine you and he have quarrelled,” +finished Mrs. Drewitt, as he paused and hesitated. +“Then, Maxwell, was he right? Were you trying to +provoke him to tell you to leave the house?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a moment’s hesitation, but then Maxwell +Drewitt said boldly—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You may as well know me for what I am at once. +I was wanting him to turn me out. As he is too wise +to do that, I am going to turn myself out. You look +shocked. You begin to see that there may be things +in heaven and earth undreamed of in your hitherto +very limited philosophy; but in the future, when you +are thinking what a sinner I am, remember that I have +had no opportunity of becoming a saint. Life has not +been a bed of roses to me. The teachings I have +listened to have not always been such as the regenerate +hear in church. As time goes by you will come to +understand what kind of a home Kincorth has been to +us, and then judge us if you like. You will do what +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>you can for the girls, I know, till I am able to take +them from you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t go, Maxwell,” entreated Mrs. Drewitt, and +there was a sick, dead feeling about her heart as she +spoke. “Don’t go; let us try all together to make a +better use of your life; let us live in peace and unity, +as such near relations should.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did Esau live at peace with Jacob?” asked Maxwell, +who was weary of the discussion. “Was Ishmael +suffered to remain after the new heir was born? Do +you suppose Lazarus, living on the crumbs that fell +from Dives’ table, had a friendly feeling towards the +men who fared sumptuously every day? If Solomon +had not slain Adonijah, would Adonijah ever have +ceased troubling his brother? Can you remember an +instance where the disinherited loved the man who +inherited? Is it not better for us to live apart in +peace, than under the same roof at war?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish I were a better peacemaker,” she said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If an angel came down from heaven, unless indeed +he were the angel of death,” said Maxwell, with an +emphasis on the latter part of his sentence which was +not quite intelligible to his auditor, “he could not keep +me in Kincorth now. It will not take me long to pack +my clothes, I have not so many of them, and then I +mean to go. Tell my uncle I thank him for wanting +me to stay all the same, but I would rather travel my +own road, and that leads me out of Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Having finished which explicit speech, Mr. Maxwell +Drewitt unlocked the door, and held it open for +his aunt to pass out, as he had held it open for her to +pass in.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI.<br> <span class='c011'>At the Hustings.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Drewitt and his nephew did not part quite +as friends, and yet to the eye of the world they did +not part as enemies. Finding his wife’s intervention +useless, the owner of Kincorth, though grievously +wounded and worsted, let matters take their course. +Had the quarrel originated in anything else than the +election, Mr. Drewitt would have felt its consequences +more bitterly than was the case. He could not have +let his dead brother’s only son leave Kincorth in such +a fashion had a question of politics not been raised +between them; but as it was so it was. Maxwell had +done what his father would not have done—helped +a man’s wife to tamper with his tenantry; and if he +liked to go, and if nothing could hinder his going, +why, he must do so, and take the consequences.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He will be glad enough to come back when the +election is over,” thought Mr. Drewitt; but in this idea +he was wrong. Maxwell had made up his mind by +very slow degrees to moving; but once made up it +would have been impossible to induce him to return.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He and his uncle had often had quarrels before, +and Maxwell had frequently hinted that if pushed too +far he might leave Kincorth altogether.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On one of these occasions Mr. Drewitt had told him +he might go to the devil if he chose, and Maxwell had +retorted that his uncle had taken precious good care +he should not travel post at any rate.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>Between such near relations little amenities of this +kind meant nothing, or next to nothing; but now the +case was different. With no great provocation, the +young man had elected to leave Kincorth, and could +not be persuaded to remain in it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If he repented of his choice at any future period, +Kincorth was free to him still. Meantime, as he sowed +he must reap, and Kincorth could do without him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Supposing Archibald Drewitt ever reasoned out the +question, it is very likely he did it in somewhat the +preceding fashion; but truth was, he had little time +for thinking. He was so taken up with the election—he +had such hosts of people to see—he was so eternally +occupied, that he had no leisure to observe things +which did not, however, escape his wife’s observation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She saw her husband was not quite so popular as +formerly. She perceived that the lower orders were +looking coldly on her; she heard indirectly that the +Liberals were making way; she understood that Maxwell’s +departure was being made a party question; she +learnt that many laid the blame of the fracas on her; +when she passed through the tents that were erected +on the lawn, where the populace got drunk <i>au discrétion</i> +at her husband’s expense, she heard muttered remarks +on the subject of English pride, and outlandish airs, +and “interlopers.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The election had seemed good fun at first; if it +had done nothing else, it had served to divert her +attention from household grievances, from domestic +shortcomings; but now, when she laid her aching head +on her pillow, she sighed for the peace and the happiness +of her father’s house, and prayed for the contest +to be well over.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>Then, as in the future, Mrs. Drewitt had to fight +out her fight alone. From the first hour in which she +set foot in her husband’s house she kept her trials to +herself; she made up her mind not to worry him about +trifles, and before long she came to the conclusion it +would be quite as well not to worry him about great +things either.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Unstable as water! Who would entrust a pearl of +great price to the mercies of the stream, to the keeping +of a river?—and yet this was precisely what +this poor soul had done all unwittingly. Her love was +her pearl; her happiness was her sole treasure; and +she had cast both at the feet of a man who, never +having done well for himself, was never likely to do +well for her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Unstable as water! the streamlet ran by; unstable +as water! the waves came and went, and ebbed and +flowed, and she keeping up a brave face through the +day, cried herself to sleep at night.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She never saw her husband except in the middle +of a crowd of voters or else at the end of a long +dinner-table. The house was crammed with visitors. +Sorely against her will she had even to move Kathleen +to Maxwell’s old room, and give the girl’s bedchamber +to a bachelor guest.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is always like this in the hunting season, +aunty; don’t mind about me,” said Kathleen. “I have +had to sleep many and many a night on the floor, because +they sat up so late it was no use trying to get +a sofa; on the floor with nothing but a blanket under +me, and hard work to get that. Maxwell did not like +being turned out constantly, so he came up here at +last. When will he be back, aunty darling?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>“After the election, I hope, Kathie,” answered +Mrs. Drewitt, as she kissed the girl and bade her +good-night. “After the election.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish it was over,” sighed Kathleen.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She did not wish it over more than her aunt, who +firmly believed that the contest never would have an +end, for the minutes seemed to be like days, and the +days like years.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But at last the nomination day came round, and +both parties girt up their loins and prepared for war.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a fine morning, “God bliss it,” as the country +people remarked one to another: no better weather +could have been desired for the nomination of candidates. +That was going to be a great day for Connemara, +at least for that portion of it in which we are at +present more particularly interested. The right of the +Earl of Popingham to return his nominee was going +to be fiercely disputed; there was going to be, at last, +a thoroughly well-contested election. Hurrah! hurrah! +hurrah! and caps and hats went flying up in the air, +and “Three cheers for Sache,” and “None o’ that, but +three times three with a will, boys, for Pryor,” re-echoed +through the usually quiet streets of Duranmore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Hurrah! and huzza! and hooroo! Who would not +yell and cheer and shout till he was black in the face?—for +had every public-house not been open to the +populace for weeks past? and was not every “free and +independent” drunk? and had not each man amongst +them who was wavering in the least pocketed his five, +or ten, or twenty pounds? and was not Irish enthusiasm +and Irish excitement worked up by whiskey and party +feeling to fever-point on that glorious August morning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>when Geoffry Pryor was to be seconded by Maxwell +Drewitt?</p> + +<p class='c013'>The town was fuller than a fair; the electors were +drunker than fiddlers; the canvassers were busier than +ever; the candidates were in an agony of suspense; +the windows opposite the hustings were crowded with +ladies; the inn-yards were a sight to behold, crammed +full of carriages. There were opposition bands playing, +and flags waving, and ribbons fluttering, and +people jostling, and boys shouting, and women screaming, +and children being crushed to pieces, and police +plunging through the crowd. Two companies of horse +occupied one side of the market-place, ready to charge +the populace at a moment’s notice; and, altogether, +Duranmore was a great and cheering sight, for in the +days of which I am now writing elections were no +child’s play. Lives were lost, men trampled under +foot, ridden down by the soldiers, kicked, stoned, +cudgelled. Heads were cracked, limbs broken. Donnybrook, +at its worst, was a peaceable sort of scene in +comparison to an Irish election at its best, where men +of station and of standing sacrificed fortune, character, +position, truth, honour, honesty, their fellow-creatures’ +happiness, and, in many cases, their fellow-creatures’ +lives, to return for their representative in Parliament +perhaps as great a vagabond as ever cheated the +sheriff.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Duranmore and West Connemara was, for various +reasons, considered by the landlord interest in that +part of Ireland a stronghold of considerable importance; +and the interest of the approaching contest consisted in +the fact that it was to be a kind of fight for independence. +Was the seat virtually to belong to the Earl +<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>of Popingham, or not? Were the Roman Catholics +going to let the sworn enemy of their church return +his nominee again?</p> + +<p class='c013'>The priests had been busy; the priests had their +crow to pluck with the Earl, and were going to make +the election expensive to him at any rate. Whilst the +landlords threatened ejection from their holdings, the +priests threatened exclusion from heaven. While the +Earl of Popingham said, “Vote for Sache—or notice +at November,” the proprietors of snug little locations +in the next world whispered, “Vote for Pryor—or +everlasting damnation.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a nice fix for men to be placed in. Starvation +in this world, or hell fire in the next—a lively +prospect either way; so cheerful that we can scarcely +wonder that in many cases the tenants preferred facing +the danger which was furthest off, and chose rather to +fall into the hands of the devil than into those of their +landlord.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is of many and many a year ago I am talking, +I pray you bear in mind. If the landed proprietors +of those days were not unexceptionable, their successors +have doubtless made all up to the generation of +tenants that pay rents now; and as it is not very +graceful to cut down into old sores, I will only add, +there was not a place in the United Kingdom where +party feeling ran so high, where bribes were so heavy, +where such an amount of virulence and animosity was +displayed, as it was in that out-of-the-way corner of +the earth where two fit and proper candidates were +about to contest the honour of representing the people +in Parliament.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As a matter of course, there had always hitherto +<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>been some fight made, and equally perhaps of course +the nominee had always heretofore won; but on this +occasion the claims seemed more nearly equal than +had ever been the case before, for it was well known +that young Mr. Waller of Eversbeg had deserted his +late father’s principles and gone over to the enemy; +and it was reported that—instigated thereto and +encouraged therein by Lady Emmeline Vervensoe and +Mr. Maxwell Drewitt—the Vervensoe tenantry had +turned restive on a papistical question, and were intending +to vote according to the dictates of their unenlightened +consciences for once.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Altogether, Duranmore was a great and glorious +sight.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was enough to make any one madly in love with +our representative system, and with the way seats in +Parliament are secured, to see the spectacle the town +presented.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a month the place had been drunk—not +figuratively, but literally—for weeks men had not +been men, but rather casks full of spirits: they drank +till they were blind, and then slept till they could see. +The whole town and all the inhabitants thereof smelt +of whiskey; every free and independent was in a state +of greater or lesser incapability; every barmaid was +frightfully active; every servant went about like a +walking ribbon-shop; every wife was on the look-out +for money: if the husbands were drunk, that was no +reason why business should be neglected.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They would see to the votes when the time came; +meanwhile they would take care of the notes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Towards the last there was no attempt to do the +thing under the rose; gentlemen and ladies went about +<span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span>buying votes—not begging them—not even going +through the ceremony of appearing to believe open +bribery could be, as the Countess of Popingham said, +“hurtful to their sensitive feelings.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Rents were forgiven; fines remitted; leases promised; +farms let on advantageous terms; money was +cheerfully paid for getting voters out of the way; personation +fees ran high—in short, neither side left a +stone unturned, or a trick untried, likely to prove +beneficial to what they were severally pleased to call +the “good cause.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>To be strictly impartial, there was not a toss up +between them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If you had shaken the Tories and Whigs up in a +bag together,” remarked Ryan afterwards, “I do not +know which would have come out first.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>There were no clean hands among either party; no +man was so free of blame that he could have thrown +stones at his opponent. The game had been a tremendously +expensive one; and “whoever wins, the +people get the stakes,” said Mr. Timothy Ryan regretfully.</p> + +<p class='c013'>What a gay sight the town presented! The windows +of every house commanding a view of the hustings were +full of women—young, well-born, beautiful—who exhibited +red or blue ribbons, according to the side they +affected.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The fair Sacheites, headed by the Countess of +Popingham, Mrs. Munks, Lady Marsden, Mrs. Hickman, +Mrs. Drewitt, and a bevy of other county notables +took possession of the assembly room, which +chanced to be Lord Marsden’s property; whilst conspicuous +among the ladies in the Liberal interest, who +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>occupied the Court-house, appeared in white dress and +red ribbons the still beautiful though somewhat <i>passée</i> +Lady Emmeline Vervensoe, who having openly deserted +her husband’s colours, had gone about canvassing, in +company with Mr. Waller and Maxwell Drewitt, to the +intense mortification of her husband and the extreme +scandal and disgust of the Popingham faction.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lady Emmeline had come of great people; she was +an heiress in her own right, she had condescended to +marry a commoner; further, she was a poetess and had +written some very charming lines to the cuckoo, and +a few verses of a highly laudatory character concerning +Duranmore Bay—for all these reasons Lady Emmeline +did as she pleased, and suffering no one to say her +nay, sat on the opposition benches, smiling in conscious +loveliness, the observed of all observers.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The town was like a garden; every flower-bed for +miles round having been rifled of its treasures to deck +the houses, horses, and hustings.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Triumphal arches of red and white dahlias, long +festoons of evergreens relieved by flowers formed of +blue calico and tied with floating ribbons, branches of +oak, sycamore, and elm, yards of ivy, hearts, stars, +mottoes formed of every imaginable flower hung fading +in the sun.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Blue flags and red flags danced in the light breeze; +the opposition bands played at one and the same time +Garry Owen and God save the King; full-length caricatures +of Sache and Pryor were exhibited on every +available yard of wall; election ballads were chanted +at the extremest pitch of the human voice; there were +drums, there were horns, there were Jew’s harps, there +<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>were penny whistles, there was every imaginable instrument, +there was every imaginable noise.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Sache’s supporters drove into town, their servants +dressed in blue and silver liveries, and their carriages +decorated with blue hammer-cloths, edged with silver +lace. Pryor’s friends—for the most part young bachelors +who affected different opinions from those their +fathers had held—came galloping into the market +square with their saddles and bridles ornamented in +red and gold.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Such splendour! such misery! such evidences of +wealth! such signs of poverty! such sleek, well-groomed, +gaily-caparisoned horses! such under-fed, dirty, half-clothed +men and women!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Ah! reader, how can I ever hope to show you the +violent contrasts that were presented to view within so +small a space—contrasts that would have been shocking, +had they not been ludicrous also?</p> + +<p class='c013'>The candidates were so spruce, the constituents +were so shabby; the hats of the first were faultless, +the head-gear of the latter wretched: the blue or red +colours of the gentry showed to advantage over glossy +broadcloth, over snowy waistcoats; the rosettes of the +electors were pinned on tattered garments, that had +been patched and patched till they were like unto the +coat of many colours that brought Joseph so much +ill-will.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But though poor, they were merry; they were, as +the Earl of Popingham said, perpetrating an execrable +pun, “full of spirits;” and fuller of whiskey than they +had ever been of food, laughing, jeering, jesting, yelling, +shouting, they shoved and pushed and fought their +way up towards the hustings.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Mr. Sache was not popular among the lower orders, +and he knew it. He was no hero—morally and physically +he was a coward; and though he had drunk +brandy enough to have, as Lord Marsden contemptuously +told him, brought colour into the cheeks of a +corpse, yet when he appeared on the hustings he looked +the very embodiment of terror and despair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Gazing down upon the sea of upturned faces, listening +to the jeers and menaces of the crowd, in mortal +dread of dead cats, rotten cabbages, and still more +rotten eggs, he thought a seat in Parliament hardly +worth passing through such an ordeal to gain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the deuce brought me here?” he said to +Mr. Munks, and his lips were white and his body all +of a tremble while he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the deuce brought you here, is it?” asked +Mr. Munks; “why, we did, and damned idiots we have +been, I consider, for our pains. But now you are here, +there is no help for the matter; and if you show the +white feather, by —— I’ll shoot you dead!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And then Mr. Munks faced round on young Waller +of Eversbeg, who was mocking Mr. Sache, and laughing +at the creditable figure cut by the Conservative +candidate; turned round, and asked him how <i>he</i> would +like to have his account settled, “in cold steel or hot +lead?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Whereupon Mr. Waller demanded if Mr. Munks +wanted to make his will. “Because,” he went on, +“Ryan can draw you out a draft, and Mr. Pryor would +give an opinion on it, and I dare say make no charge +under the circumstances.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Get to business—get to business, Munks,” whispered +Mr. Drewitt, impatiently, “for heaven’s sake let +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>us have it over;” and thus exhorted, Mr. Munks, whenever +the cheering and groaning consequent upon the +appearance of the candidates had in some measure subsided, +commenced, “Gentlemen——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Three groans, my boys, and don’t listen to him. +Hiss——” and there came a storm of yells and hisses +and execrations, accompanied by a smart shower of +missiles, most of which fortunately fell short of the +target.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gentlemen,” again essayed Mr. Munks, who, whatever +other virtues he lacked, certainly was game to the +backbone. “Gentlemen——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who raised the rints last half——?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who broke the leases?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who put Dick Benton to the dure?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who took the roof off the Widdy Martin, and her +down in the favar?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Och! ye murthering villain.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Och! ye blackguard thafe.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Put a praty in yer ugly mouth; here’s one for ye.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gentlemen——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hould yer tongue.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He couldn’t do it. He’d slobber his chin.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gentlemen, I beg to——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Beg of somebody, then, that doesn’t know ye.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Och, can’t ye let the man spake? Shure his wife +never lets him have the chance at home.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Go away and send up Betty!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“In her ridin’-habit!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That she is goin’ to be buried in!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Come, come, my lads, this won’t do!” yelled out +Ryan, in a stentorian voice, which was distinctly +audible even above the din. “Fair play is a jewel. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>Never refuse to listen to anybody. Hear Mr. Munks—you +don’t know what he may be going to promise +you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Talk’s chape!” shouted out a refractory voter. +“Fine words butther no parsnips!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye can’t boult the dure wid a boiled carrot!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Be quiet, will you!” vociferated Ryan, “and attend +to the gentleman’s speech;” and thus exhorted the +crowd permitted Mr. Munks to commence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He said he hoped they would return Mr. Sache, +that he was no stranger, but a resident in the neighbourhood, +and known to every one of them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A d——d sight too well!” hiccupped a tipsy tailor; +at which remark the hubbub began again with +twenty times greater vigour than ever.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Hissing, yelling, hooting, cheering, cries of “Go +on, Munks!” “Go in and win!” “Speak up, man!” +“Make haste or you’ll be late!” “Are you afraid of +Betty? Lord, man, we won’t let her touch you here!” +with peals of laughter and volleys of oaths, compelled +Mr. Munks finally to give up in despair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is of no use,” he exclaimed; “they won’t listen +to us; there is a conspiracy; the crowd is packed.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>On this Maxwell Drewitt came hurriedly forward. +“If you won’t hear Mr. Munks,” he cried, “hear my +uncle. We are on opposite sides, but I am sure he +will tell you a great deal you would not willingly miss. +Now three cheers for Archibald Drewitt, who never +defrauded the poor man yet! Cheer like Irishmen, +and not like a set of over-fed, beer-drinking Saxons. +Cheer, you rascals, cheer!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thus exhorted, the rascals did cheer, till they were +hoarse, for Archibald Drewitt, for Maxwell Drewitt +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>for Waller and for Pryor; but somehow Mr. Sache’s +seconder did not seem much elated by the applause. +Pushing his nephew aside, he said, the moment a lull +in the tempest permitted his words to be heard——</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I need no one to claim a hearing from me. I am +not afraid of your refusing any request of mine. You +will give a patient hearing to your old friend Archibald +Drewitt—(tremendous cheering and cries of +‘That we will!’) We are old acquaintances, and do +not need to be introduced to one another by anybody. +We have not always agreed about politics, it is true, +but we have agreed to disagree. Some amongst you +go with me, and others do not; but to one and all my +advice is—Return Mr. Sache! [Uproar and yells of +‘No, we won’t!’] Yes, gentlemen, you will. He is as +honest a man as you’ll find. [Interruption, and a remark +that ‘Honest men must be scarce!’] Yes, my +friends, I admit that they are scarce, and for that very +reason you ought not to let Mr. Sache slip through +your fingers. He will do you justice in Parliament! +[Great confusion.] He knows your wants, and you +know his principles. [‘To be very bad!’] He is a +gentleman who will never deceive you.” [‘No, faith, +we know him too well to let him do that. He was cut +out for a gentleman, but the devil ran away with the +patthern!’] And then came another burst of yelling, +hissing, and fighting.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Now, now, my friends,” said Mr. Drewitt, “I +asked you for a peaceable hearing, and I thought you +would have done that much for me. It is not so often +I make a speech that you should interrupt me when I +do. Just give me five minutes to tell you why you +should return Mr. Sache, and I will promise not to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>detain you longer. [A prolonged howl, and cries of +‘We want to hear nothing about him.’] Very likely; +but I want to tell you something about him. His +political views are sound; if you do not approve of +them, it is not because they are bad, but because you +cannot see what is good for you. He is an Irishman, +has an interest in the soil, loves the country of his +birth, will speak up for your rights——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Arrah! hear that. The man can’t say boo to a +goose. Him spake up!” And ironical cheers and +perfect shrieks of laughter drowned the remainder of +Mr. Drewitt’s sentence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, gentlemen,” he resumed, when a partial lull +enabled his words to be heard, “I suppose if I appeared +before you a candidate for the honour of representing +you in Parliament, instead of trying to +second Mr. Munks’s statement, that Mr. Sache is a fit +and proper person to fill that office—in that case +also, I suppose, you would refuse to hear a syllable I +had to say?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, we would not; we’d return you and send you +up to London flying. Propose yourself, Archibald +Drewitt, and we’ll second you. Hurrah!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had them on the hip now, and pushed his advantage.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then it is to Mr. Sache himself and not to his +political principles you object. They cannot but be to +your liking, because you say you would have me for +your member, and my views are identical with his. +My friends, you are acting at this minute much like +children who strike a hard table when they have +knocked themselves. You think you will hurt us by +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>returning Mr. Pryor, and in reality you will only hurt +yourselves. Mr. Sache wishes to serve you; but as +you do not happen to like him, you cheer and shout +for a man who will not serve you at all. Mr. Pryor, +a very estimable young gentleman no doubt, is not +fitted to be your representative. What interest has he +in the country? Though an Irishman, I believe, by +descent, he is yet English by birth, education, and residence. +He is a stranger, a lawyer, a mere boy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Fifty times betther man than Sache, the dirty +spalpeen! We won’t hear a word against Pryor. +We’ll gag the first that cheers for the hardhearted +landlord.” Which speech being accepted as a challenge, +gave rise to a regular shindy, that diversified and +enlivened the proceedings. Heads were cracked, +shillelaghs waved, lips cut, an arm or two broken: the +police had finally to interfere to restore order, and +then Mr. Waller came to the front, and was greeted +with tumultuous acclamations from the one side and +by hisses, groans, cabbagestalks, bad eggs, and rotten +fruit from the Sacheites.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gentlemen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Three cheers for Lady Emmeline! Three times +three!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Lady Vervensoe, who had drawn public attention +to herself by waving a crimson scarf out of +the window, now rose and bowed right and left to the +crowd in acknowledgment of their compliment.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With her white dress and red ribbons, with her +chip hat and plume of red feathers, her grace and +beauty, she created quite a furore; and during the excitement +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>attendant on this demonstration Mr. Waller +managed to move the election of his cousin, Mr. Pryor, +as a fit and proper person to represent Duranmore and +West Connemara in Parliament.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is my turn now,” whispered Maxwell Drewitt +to Ryan. And he came forward, and leaning over the +rails, and jauntily holding in his left hand a brand new +hat, began—</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII.<br> <span class='c011'>The Result of the Poll.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“Electors of Duranmore and West Connemara—for +I am not going to call you, for a purpose, gentlemen, +which you are not, nor friends, because I see +a good many faces below there which belong to my +enemies—but Electors of Duranmore and West +Connemara. I want you to listen to what I have got +to tell you about the way elections have been previously +managed in this part of the country, and of how +we intend that they shall be managed in future——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Cheers from the Reds, hisses from the Blues.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“For shame, Maxwell Drewitt!” cried one.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Siding against your uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is it to the likes of you we’re going to listen, do +you think?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Go home, boy! out o’ that”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Home is it?” shouted another; “has he not been +turned out of the only one he ever knew?” And at +the words Archibald Drewitt turned sick.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Isn’t it himself ought to be at the ould place now +instead of them that owns it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, it is not,” answered Maxwell Drewitt, whose +face was scarlet, but not with pain. “It is not; Archibald +Drewitt came into Kincorth fairly. Long may he +keep it!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye wish it, don’t ye Max?” cried some one among +the crowd. And then there came shrieks of laughter +and cheers and hisses.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>“Make it up with him, man; it’s not too late yet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why didn’t ye quarrel till he married?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why could ye not have let somebody else put in +the spake for Pryor?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because I wanted to tell you what nobody else +will tell you: because my family affairs have nothing +to do with anybody in Duranmore: because I see no +reason why I should wear my uncle’s political opinions, +if they do not chance to fit me, any more than his +clothes. Conservatism is stationary. Liberalism is +progressive. Toryism may suit those who have had +their way made for them, but those who have to make +their way for themselves see that the Whigs have the +best of the argument.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am now in the same boat with the poorest man +amongst you. He wants to rise, so do I; he wants to +make money, so do I; he does not want to be ground +under the carriage wheels of the upper ten thousand, +neither do I. We are all of one mind in this matter; +we want butter to our bread, and ham and eggs to our +breakfast, and clothes to our backs, and good roofs +over our heads, and something to lay by against old +age. Here is a man to get what we desire for us. +Three cheers for Geoffry Pryor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And the people cheered, and the people shouted, +while Maxwell Drewitt took breath; and some cried +out that it was all true, and others told him to go home—that +he was a humbug, and that they would have +nothing to do with him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Am I a humbug?” he yelled, almost cracking his +voice in his efforts to make himself heard. “Am I a +humbug? If I am, then humbugging must be a devilishly +unprofitable trade. And as long as you have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>chosen to introduce this subject, I may say that I have +given you as good proofs as any man can, that, let +my principles seem bad or the reverse in your eyes, I +at least have adopted them in sincerity of heart—with +integrity of purpose. All of you know that I +had not much to give up, but still I have given up +the little I had, and stand before you a man who, +having relinquished everything for what he conscientiously +believes to be the good of his country, has +a right to claim from you, at any rate, a calm and +impartial hearing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Go on, Max; we’re listening.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We’re as quiet as mice in a meal bag.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Go on, man. Go on, go on, go on.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I know I am not so popular as my uncle,” began +Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Cries of “Yes, yes, you are.” “No you are not.” +“Finish your speech, the schoolmaster could not have +laid it off better. Who wrote it for ye, Max?” “Go +on, and don’t keep us here all day. Go on, go on.” +And the crowd shouted and yelled and laughed, and +Maxwell cursed the crowd in his heart while he proceeded.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am going on, if you will let me. I was saying +that I know I am not so popular as my uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We mind that. Ye said it afore.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is a man who deserves all the love and respect +you can give him, and I am sorry we should stand this +day on opposite sides.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why don’t ye go over till him then? He’s near +enough to ye.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why don’t I go over to him? That brings me to +the point I was wanting to reach. Let me ask you a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>few questions, and give you honest answers to them, +and then you will see if you can still blame me for +deserting the ‘Dirty Blues.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you want to have a man of family representing +you in Parliament? Yes. Then surely Mr. Sache cannot +be your member!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you want a gentleman? Mr. Sache can lay no +claim to such a distinction!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you want a person clever and fluent, able to +lay your grievances before Parliament, and insist on +their being redressed? Alas! my fellow-electors, Mr. +Sache is no orator!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you want a man of mind, capable of grasping +facts, of comprehending the necessities and wishes of +his fellows? Mr. Sache is not possessed of a second +idea; his only one, and that a very small one indeed, +being himself!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you desire to do credit to yourselves by sending +a good man, an independent man, a man of talent +and character, into the British Senate? If you do, you +must never return Mr. Sache!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you want a man—handsome, energetic, fearless? +Look at your would-be member, voters of Duranmore—electors +of West Connemara—look at your +landlords’ nominee! Look at the poor, frightened, incapable +creature your tyrants want to compel you to +select, and say if I, Maxwell Drewitt, were not right +to choose a more energetic leader—one able and +willing to battle out your cause against the United +Kingdom, and to state your grievances to the world. +Look at him, I say, and cheer that poltroon if you +dare!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was probably the very audacity of this address +<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>which had kept his audience silent, for whenever Maxwell +Drewitt, with hand stretched out towards Mr. +Sache, with finger pointed at him, paused for a moment +in his speech, there burst out upon the air such +a tumult of laughing, cursing, joking, yelling, cheering, +hissing, shouting, that the unfortunate object of +the younger Drewitt’s tirade looked wholly stupefied +and bewildered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lady Emmeline was so delighted that she clapped +her little hands together with might and main; she +waved her eternal scarf over the heads of the multitude, +and flung a bouquet towards Maxwell, which, falling +short of the hustings, was caught by a man, who took +off his battered and brimless hat, and said, “Thank ye +kindly, my lady.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>If anything had been wanting to make Colonel +Vervensoe boil over, this would have settled the matter. +Absolutely quivering with rage, he shook his fist in +young Drewitt’s face, and threatened him with condign +punishment on the spot.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Only lay a finger on me,” said Maxwell, “and +I pitch you head foremost into the crowd, who will +soon make mincemeat of you. Stand back, sir, stand +back!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If you say another word, Maxwell, you shall never +darken my doors again,” foamed Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Time enough for you to shut your doors when I +show my face at them,” retorted Maxwell. “Be quiet,” +he shouted, addressing the electors, “for I have still +to tell you how your members have been returned +hitherto. By bribery and corruption—by threats and +intimidation—by turning the screw on poor men, who +had, for the sake of their families, to put pride and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>self-respect and independence, ay, and common honesty +in their pockets. You have been treated like slaves +instead of like Irishmen. Why was O’Shane not successful? +Because honest men were put out of the way, +while rogues voted in their names; because refractory +electors were kidnapped and carried off to Arran and +Achill, and in one or two cases even to America; because +men were made drunk and stripped naked, and +left without a stitch to their backs, till the polling was +over; because dead men were brought to life again; +because tenants were threatened with expulsion; because +Government posts were promised to the sons of +the shopkeepers and small gentry; because the landlords +formed a league against the men who enable them to +live; because there was not an atom of honour or +honesty amongst the friends and supporters of your +taskmasters’ nominee.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Maxwell, I command you to be silent!” exclaimed +Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My uncle commands me to be silent,” persisted +the young man, “but my conscience commands me to +speak. As a boy I saw these things done, and held +my peace; as a man I remember what I saw, and +choose my side accordingly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How does the Earl of Popingham expect to win +this election? By intimidation, by dead cats, such as +this” (and he dexterously caught one by the tail, and +pitched it back in the face of the man who had thrown +it at him), “by the strong arm, by the might of rank, +and power of money, and the majesty and omnipotence +of landlordism. The things which have been done by the +Conservatives are almost past my telling. Popingham’s +pets are among you now with orders to keep the reds +<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>back from the polling booths; they are wearing red +rosettes; but you will be able to pick them out for all +that when the time comes. As I rode into town this +morning a lad told me Marsden had offered him half-a-crown +to pelt the reds, but that he was willing to +pelt Marsden himself for eighteenpence. Will you have +this, fellow-countrymen? It only requires a vigorous +effort on your part to free yourselves from the yoke. +A long pull, and a strong pull, and a pull altogether, +and we will stand a respectable and independent body +of electors, with a better man than any lordling’s nominee +representing us in Parliament.” And amidst a +Babel of cheering, groaning, clapping, and hissing, +Maxwell concluded his speech.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Now, Sache,” whispered Lord Marsden.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not a word to say. I—I couldn’t do it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you shall do it,” said Mr. Munks. And he +and Mr. Drewitt shoved him up to the front of the +hustings.</p> + +<p class='c013'>What he said, however, or whether he ever said +anything, nobody had the slightest idea. His speech +appeared in the county paper, but it was generally +supposed that the reporter wrote it himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had the worst of the day’s storm. Imprecations +were shouted out against him. He was pelted, insulted, +reviled. “How much does the Earl give you?” asked +one wag.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Doesn’t the divil take care of his own, Sache?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why don’t you speak up like a man?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Couldn’t they have got anybody betther than +you?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Abbott wouldn’t do their dirty work any longer.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>“And it’s betther to sup with a cutty than want a +spoon.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Spake up, man, spake up.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They’ll niver pay ye for the job if ye don’t work +for yer money.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Go out o’ that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Betther be a coward than a corp, Sache.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ye dirty blackguard.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who ate up Dan Joyce’s crock o’ butther?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who counts the very chickens as they’re chipping +the shell?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let him alone, can’t ye? What’s the use of pouring +water on a drownded rat?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t look so scared, Sache; niver howl till ye’re +hurt.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We won’t hear ye; we’ll bate ye black and blue. +Go out o’ that or there won’t be an egg left in Duranmore.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How do ye like it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do like the women: say no and take it” And at +every sentence there arose a howl, and then came a +shower of dirt and filth of all description.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I never heard anything to equal this,” said Mr. +Pryor to his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You’ll have to run the gauntlet in a minute or +two,” answered Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s good for the tailors, that’s one comfort,” observed +Maxwell Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We want Pryor: go back and send out Pryor. +Take him away, Munks, he’s no credit till ye. I +wondher ye’d be seen out with him. We’re run short +o’ eggs, and we’ll have to fall to the pavin’ stones next. +Take him out o’ that. Pryor, Pryor; three cheers for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>Pryor, and three more for Butler, and a good one for +Waller, and keep your best and longest for Lady +Emmeline.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Are you going to give me a hearing, my friends?” +asked Geoffry Pryor, coming forward as Mr. Sache, +who by this time presented a pitiable spectacle, drew +back.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No we’re not. Yes we are. Ye’ll be served +worse than he was. Why did ye put on your best +coat? ye might as well take it off and give it to me. +It ’ud look mighty purty turned up wid yellow. See +that now!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An there’s a flower for your buttonhole.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have ye nearly done?” he demanded.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, we havn’t begun. Why don’t ye go on? +Ye’re as bad as Sache.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Had you not better hear me first, and then speak +yourselves afterwards?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, we hadn’t.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Shall I not speak at all?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If it’s any pleasure till ye, ye may.” And then +the people laughed and cheered and shouted, and +Geoffry Pryor went on to tell them how they were an +oppressed and injured race; how justice had never been +done to them; how the English knew nothing of the +way in which the Irish lived; how everything was +wrong in the management of the country; how he +pledged himself to advocate the poor man’s right; how +he would miss no opportunity of letting the English +know of their manifold grievances.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Every labourer is worthy of his hire,” proceeded +Mr. Pryor, “and the man who tills the ground should +eat of its produce: you ought to have your land at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>such a rent that you can live off it, and not starve on +it. Politically I am a thorough reformer; in religion I +am for letting every man go to heaven his own road; +and, in conclusion, I can only say, if you return me I +shall try to serve you faithfully; if you do not return +me I shall try to be content. I would entreat each +man among you to vote according to his conscience: +not for Sache or Pryor, not for red or blue, but for +the right and the principle that is in him. And whatever +the result of the contest may be, Mr. Sache,” he +added, turning towards his opponent, “I hope we shall +be enemies only in public, never in private life; and I +should like, though I suppose such a proceeding is not +usual on the hustings, to shake hands with you in token +that ours is an amiable warfare.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Mr. Pryor stretched out his hand to Mr. Sache, +who had been, he felt, roughly dealt with. Perfectly +stupified, however, with brandy and terror; bespattered +from head to foot, with his cheek cut, and one eye +closed up, Lord Popingham’s nominee made no movement +to take his opponent’s offered hand till he was +pushed forward by Mr. Drewitt, who, having lost +patience with everybody, was in no very gentle or forbearing +mood.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The show of hands is in favour of the Reds,” he +said to Mr. Munks. “We must demand a poll.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And a poll was demanded accordingly; but the +result was the same as the sheriff had declared the +show of hands to be, viz., in favour of Geoffry Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the days of which I am writing there was no +earthly reason why an election should not have lasted +for ever. Government had not then put any limit to +the period over which the innocent amusement of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>breaking heads should extend. On the contrary: as +there was but one town in each county or portion of a +county returning a separate member where votes could +be legally polled, government seemed rather to have +erred on the side of humouring the popular taste a +little too far, than of considering it too little. Those +were the palmy days of electioneering; those were the +days of delightful uncertainty—of charming fluctuation. +You were getting on to-day—you were far +behind to-morrow; from hand to hand the political +ball went tossing; now the Tories had it—now the +Whigs. Now it was all up with the Reds—now the +Blues had not a chance. As for trade! nobody even +tried to transact any business while the election lasted, +unless, indeed, the owners of public-houses and the +landlords of hotels.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They took the business of the town and did it. +If you had not a pair of shoes in the world, do you +think any cobbler in the parish had leisure to attend +to your wants? Was the rain pouring in through +your roof, or your house falling down; were the spokes +in the wheels of your gig rattling like castanets, or +every pane of glass in your windows smashed? If +you were not a glazier, wheelwright, bricklayer, or +slater yourself, why, windows, and wheels, and houses, +and roofs must remain as they were till the members +were returned—till the free and independent were +sober and hungry once again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was carnival time—a time not of sweetmeats +and bouquets, but of whiskey and fighting, of rotten +eggs and blackthorn shillelaghs; a time when family +feuds were established that would last rival houses +for life, and be handed down as heirlooms to their +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>posterity; when even sober men—sober and discreet—lost +their heads and got drunk with political excitement; +when wrongs were done that never could be +righted subsequently; when words were spoken that +never could be forgotten; when insults were uttered +that could never be forgiven.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If the elections of those days were relics of the +“good old times,” we may fervently thank our stars +that such times have passed away for ever.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Canvassing had seemed to Mrs. Drewitt a sufficiently +weary season; but what was canvassing to +making sure of the promised votes, to keeping the +electors up to the mark?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Drewitt worked himself into a state of frenzy, +and he and Colonel Vervensoe and Mr. Munks and +Lord Marsden and the Earl of Popingham, and a host +of other influential Blues, went about the country like +so many madmen, hunting up voters and bringing +them to the polling-booth <i>nolens volens</i>.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If anything had been wanting to egg the Blues on +to greater exertions, Maxwell Drewitt’s speech would +have proved a whip powerful enough to lash them to +fury.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If Mr. Sache were not returned, every tenant +should be ejected—every man who had a vote sent +adrift; the cottages should be unroofed; the land might +remain untilled; children might starve; women might +die! From time immemorial have not the innocent +suffered with the guilty? has not the house of Ahab +always suffered for the sin of Ahab, from the time of +Elijah until now.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Most of the landlords were kindly men—not +proud, not uncourteous, not unfeeling; but they were +<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>like the rest of us, weak on one point, and that point +was politics. There is a savage in most which only +requires waking to be dangerous. Spite of all our +civilization we are forced at times to admit we must +have come originally of a rude stock, that we are +closer to Jael, that we are nearer to Jehu than we +would willingly confess.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The most delicate taste cannot distinguish between +port and sherry in the dark; and in the same manner +there is a mental darkness in which the tenderest conscience +fails to discern the difference between right +and wrong.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That was the state to which politics reduced men +in the days of which I am writing; that is the state +to which politics would reduce men now but for the +extra vigilance of civilization, but for the coolness and +calmness of the fourth estate, which will have none of +it, which insists on pouring light in on darkness, of +calling a spade a spade, let the implement so named +be used by peer or peasant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With the landlords I have mentioned the case was +different—the savage was roused in them: blinded +by passion, they stood, with the noon-day sun shining +on them, in darkness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It had become a question of might <i>versus</i> right—of +lord against serf—of Protestant against Catholic—of +“You shall” against “I shall not;” and such a +question can never be solved except by the result of +the battle of man against man.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I am not advocating one side or another. God +knows,—God who knows all things—that though +the profession of each was different, there was not, +long ago, a turn of the scale in favour of either Whig +<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>or Tory. Drewitt of Kincorth would have served his +own father with notice to quit had his father voted +against Sache. Waller of Eversbeg would have ejected +every man on his estate had every man not chanced +to want to return Pryor. There was no choice between +them. It was war to the knife on both sides: +and when war of any kind is being waged, men are +not apt to be too particular.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Day by day the fight got fiercer, the combatants +angrier. In the race each side strained every nerve +for victory: all stratagems were allowed—all tricks +were resorted to. It was a Derby where every man +was trying to bribe his neighbour’s jockey; where he +was slyly trying to loosen his girths, to unbuckle his +bridle, to lame the favourite. It was a boat-race +where people strove not only to row their best, but +endeavoured to prevent others rowing at all. If you +can fancy a three-mile heat, with the riders standing +in their stirrups and lashing one another back; if you +can imagine a rowing-match where, when hard run, +the crew rose up and battered their opponents with +their oars; if you can picture a battle without any +order or regularity; if you can crowd into your mental +canvas everything hopelessly unfair, dishonest, brutal, +mean, you may perhaps form some idea of Duranmore +during the time which elapsed between the nomination +and the return.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was many a purse filled—there was many +a spirit broken. Many a man thought of the children +at home, and the tract of wretched land that he had +done his miserable best to till; thought of how the +children would cry for want of their potatoes; thought +of the empty pot, of the lonely hill side, of the deserted +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>cabin; and voted against his conscience. His +opinions might not be right—more than probable +they were all wrong—but they were not more wrong +than those held by many of his betters; and his betters +were able to vote as they liked, while he had to vote +for the man he detested.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If the masther ’ud just let me be, ma’am,” said +one poor fellow to Mrs. Drewitt, “it’s meself ’ud niver +go to the poll at all at all. I’d vote for Mr. Pryor if I +could; but as it’s not plazing to Mr. Drewitt, I’d +rayther not vote for aither.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had been artful, this uneducated Irishman: he +had thought to get at the soft side of Mr. Drewitt +through his wife; and Mrs. Drewitt herself imagined +that so reasonable a request might be granted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He will never force Byrne to vote against his +conscience,” argued Mrs. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Wouldn’t he though? Mr. Drewitt soon showed his +wife the reverse of the picture; and the reverse was +not pretty.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Byrne should vote or give up his lot.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then,” said Byrne, “I will give up my lot; but +if I do I’ll vote for Pryor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And he did.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After that Mr. Drewitt desired his wife not to allow +any of his tenants to speak to her on the subject +of the election. He knew she did not go with him in +his ideas; that in fact she was getting perfectly bewildered +with the strife of contending opinions; for +which reasons he bade her send all reluctant voters to +him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I understand them, and you do not,” he said. “I +know how to manage them; and they think they can +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>manage you.” And thus, happily for herself, Mrs. +Drewitt was withdrawn from the political arena, and +only permitted to look on at the fray.</p> + +<p class='c013'>What a fray it was!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not been in bed for a week,” said Maxwell +Drewitt to Mr. Waller, on the morning which was +to decide the result.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nor have I,” answered the owner of Eversbeg; +“but to-day will, I hope, repay us for all.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>That was what the Blues were saying as well. +They were sanguine of success also; so sanguine, that +Mrs. Munks, and Lady Marsden, and a number of other +ladies—Mrs. Drewitt amongst them, by her husband’s +special desire—took possession of the Assembly +Room, to hear the earliest tidings concerning +the winner.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Not to be behind on such an occasion, Lady Emmeline +and her staff occupied the opposition benches. +She and Colonel Vervensoe had not spoken to one +another for a month previously, and it was currently +reported that if Mr. Pryor got in he would never +speak to her again. If, on the other hand, Mr. Sache +were returned, people believed that she would never +speak to her husband.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There can be no doubt that the attitude assumed +by this lady added greatly to the excitement of the +election. In the Hickman family brother was against +brother; among the Drewitts uncle and nephew were +bitter opponents; but all this was nothing to husband +and wife openly supporting different sides.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was the flavouring to the soup; the sauce to the +fish; the lemon to the punch. Without that element +the election would have been, to a great extent, like +<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>other elections: as it was, in the memory of the +oldest inhabitant there had never been such fun in +Duranmore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On the last day of the poll the town presented a +perfectly indescribable scene of riot, misery, and contention.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Everything which had made the nomination rather +a grand affair, tended to make the final combat +wretched and squalid.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The wreaths were faded, the evergreens had turned +brown, the arches were partly broken down, the +flowers were dead, the banners were torn, the rosettes +were crumpled and soiled, the instruments of the respective +bands having been used as weapons of offence +and defence had come to grief, the leading men on +both sides looked worn-out and jaded, the voters had +hardly a whole coat among them; they were tired of +fighting, they were weary of being dragged hither and +thither, they had passed through every known stage of +drunkenness, and many of them were by this time in +a state of sickly sobriety.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Altogether the ball had lasted too long: the soldiers, +the police, the musicians, the voters, the candidates—all +were alike exhausted. No one seemed so +bright as on the first day, excepting the ladies; and +even some of them looked a little drooping.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Not so Lady Emmeline, however: whether she +slept well or rouged well it is not for me to say, but +the colour in her face was brilliant as the dye of her +scarf.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If we do not win I shall die,” were her parting +words to Maxwell Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We shall win,” was his last answer. Every half-hour +<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>he despatched a messenger to tell her the state of +the poll: every half-hour Geoffry Pryor’s chances +seemed to brighten, while the anxiety of the Sacheites +increased.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As the day wore on and the excitement became +more intense, rioting began, and the fighting and +pushing which had hitherto been confined to the neighbourhood +of the polling-booth, spread through the +crowd, till the row became general.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There could be no mistake about the matter now. +The affair was growing serious, the people were getting +earnest and dangerous. The Reds were cudgelling the +Blues, and the Blues were paying back the Reds with +interest. The authorities were beginning to be +alarmed. There was a yell for the military, and every +soldier settled himself more firmly in his saddle, and +gathered up his reins, while he waited for the order +to charge. Every spectator was holding his or her +breath, waiting for “what next?” when suddenly a +piercing scream rang out over the heads of the crowd, +and a cry of “Save him!” issued from the windows of +the Assembly Room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a moment the play of shillelaghs ceased in the +centre of the market-place square, and Geoffry Pryor, +in the very heart of that surging, seething mass of +human beings, could just distinguish two men struggling +over a voter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The fellow’s coat was torn off his back, and Maxwell +Drewitt, with his head bare, with clenched teeth, +and with his face flushed and furious, was dragging +him by one arm, while Mr. Drewitt was tugging him +away by the other. The elder and more powerful man +seemed to be getting the best of it, when, quick as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>thought, a stick whizzed through the air and came +down on Mr. Drewitt’s skull. He dropped on the instant, +and as he dropped there was a rush of the rabble +to one side, and right over his body rode a company +of hussars.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then the light left Geoffry Pryor’s eyes; a deathlike +sickness came over him, and he fainted away.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The whole scene, which it has taken me so long +to describe, was acted out almost in a second; and +next moment eager hands were raising the owner of +Kincorth from the ground.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My God, he’s dead!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Och, docther, dear, say that the life’s not out of +him!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bleed him, docther darlint.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“For the sake of the blessed Vargin, lift him +aisy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, swate father! what is this at all at all?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Keep the craythur back. Shure it’s the young +wife he married only the other day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Agnes Drewitt would not be kept back. Unmindful +of the crowd, heedless of danger or difficulty, +she made her way towards the knot collected round +her husband.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Doctor,” she said, “you must bring him back to +me. He is not dead: tell me he is not dead.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Carry him to my house. I can do nothing here,” +was all the answer he made; but he pulled Mrs. +Drewitt forcibly from her husband’s side, and keeping +her hand in his, followed close behind.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The doctor’s house was not fifty yards distant, but +to Agnes Drewitt it seemed fifty miles.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The mob closed up again as they passed through, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>and, as in some terrible dream, she heard loud +shouts and continuous yells and oaths and threats and +curses.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Very vaguely it seemed to her as though she had +crossed into a frightful eternity in which the tumult of +earth was still distinctly audible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Behind her lay the great battle-field of the contested +election, where her husband had fought for what +he thought the right so gallantly and so long. To her +it was all gone and past: gone with its excitement, its +sorrow, its shock, its trouble.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She felt stupified, she felt stunned. As she crossed +the threshold of the doctor’s house, she scarcely heard +a prolonged howl of anger and disappointment that +rent the summer air.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What’s that?” cried Lady Emmeline, starting up; +but next moment she sat back in her seat, clenching +her hands together and beating her little foot in impotent +rage against the floor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s lost! it’s all over!” she shrieked out. And +she was right. At the eleventh hour every one of the +tenants she had promised Mr. Pryor were marched up +to the polling-booth by her husband, where they recorded +their votes for Mr. Sache.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They turned the fate of the day.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That settles it!” muttered Ryan, with a fearful +oath; and he was right, for Geoffry Pryor was +beaten, and the Earl of Popingham’s nominee had +won!</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII.<br> <span class='c011'>Not Dead.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>If there be one thing under heaven for which +more than another the lower order of Irish have a +passion, it is for offering medical advice; and accordingly, +whenever the eager crowd who had hustled and +shoved their way after the “body,” as they called Mr. +Drewitt, beheld him safely deposited on Doctor Sheen’s +bed, they opened fire on that gentleman in a style +which set at defiance the knowledge of Apothecaries’ +Hall, and might have made the whole College of +Surgeons stand aghast.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Lay him down there,” growled the doctor. “Gently, +gently—do you hear?—and not as if he was a sack +of potatoes: and now be off, everyone of you; I don’t +want you here.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But, Doctor dear——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Open an artery. Och! see if the blood’ll come. +Sweet father, what’ll we do at all—at all? Musha—oh! +Wirrastrue.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Jist touch him in the arm”—improved another—“a +bit above the elbow—where Sergen Brabsen—long +life till him—put the lance in me and brought +me back after I died of the squinazy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Could ye not put a dhrop o’ spirit down his throat, +Docthor darlint?” suggested a fourth; “it might lift his +heart again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do, an’ may the heavens be yer bed: we’ll dhrink +ye’re health night and day, an’——”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>“Come, be off!” interrupted Doctor Sheen. “I +can’t do with you crowding about me, yelling enough +to pull the house down.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If ye’d put a feather till his nose,” broke forth +the first speaker with greater vehemence than ever, “I +can catch one of the hens in a minit, or let me hould +a bit av a lookin’ glass afore his mouth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ fit his arm straight in place: see how it +hings.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ look if the skull’s knocked in entirely, an’ +pick out the broken bits afore they get down intil his +brains.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Pick them up with the pincers, and then join +them cleverly.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ sen’ for ould Peggy Magore; shure she has +dhrinks made out o’ herbs that would entice a corpse +to speak, if it could only be made to swally them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ docthor, wouldn’t ye let his head down a +bit?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An’ lift his feet on a pillow?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And feel if there’s a ticking in either of his +heels?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Which last speech bearing, as it did, on the idea +that before death a pulse may be felt in the heel, +produced such a wailing and mourning—such laments +over the man who had been taken from them—such +tributes to his virtues—such regrets for his untimely +end—that at length Doctor Sheen fairly lost his +patience, and shoving the loudest of the talkers out of +the room, and ordering the rest to follow, he locked +and double-locked the door, and found himself alone +with his patient, Mrs. Drewitt, and his assistant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Without, there was noise and riot and shouting +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>and fighting: within, there was silence like the grave: +without was life; within, the shadow of the angel of +death.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No one in the room spoke a word while Doctor +Sheen felt Mr. Drewitt’s pulse, opened his coat, waistcoat, +and shirt, and placed his hand on his heart; but +when at last he looked up doubtfully, Mrs. Drewitt +said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Doctor, he shall not die?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Very well, ma’am,” answered the doctor, and +pressed his fingers on Mr. Drewitt’s wrist once more.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then Doctor Sheen whispered something in the +assistant’s ear, to which the assistant replied:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, only stunned.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you think so?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am sure of it,” answered the other; “haven’t I +had dozens of them here just as bad?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But not with that,” said Doctor Sheen, still +speaking in so low a tone that his words could not +reach Mrs. Drewitt, and pointing as he spoke to Mr. +Drewitt’s head, “but not with that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And what’s that?” inquired the assistant contemptuously; +“he’ll be all right again in a week;” +and he took the injured arm, and began manipulating +it, as though he were playing a tune on a piano.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There you are,” he said. “Harder, sir, harder; +his pulse is not in his skin; give him time, there’s no +hurry; he’s coming as fast as he can. Now I’d give +five shillings,” added the young man, stepping back +and surveying Mr. Drewitt, “I’d give five shillings to +know where he has been.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Where who has been?” asked Mrs. Drewitt, turning +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>her face, which was wet with tears, towards the +speaker.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Where your husband has been, ma’am; all our +anatomy won’t teach us that; it’s a good quarter of an +hour since he went away, and he is only coming back +again now—here he is,”—and as he said the word +Mr. Drewitt opened his eyes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With a little cry of thanksgiving his wife fell on +her knees beside him. She had been afraid to say she +feared before; but now the very excess of her joy +proved how great had been her previous dread.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will be quiet,” she said, as Doctor Sheen tried +to draw her from the room; “I will be quiet—you +need not be afraid of me again—I won’t say a word +you may trust me, indeed—indeed you may.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am going to set his arm,” persisted Doctor Sheen, +“and see to this cut in his head, and——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And there is no one so fit to stay here as I am,” +she interposed eagerly: “you would wish me to remain, +you would like me to be near you—would not you, +Archy?”—and she looked into the scarcely conscious +eyes half hidden by a weight of heavy eyelid while +she waited for an answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Archibald Drewitt could not answer her; she had +not been accustomed to illness, poor soul, or she might +have known better than to expect it; but he made a +vain effort to turn towards her—a faint attempt to +move his uninjured arm and clasp her hand in his.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was too much; a more ghastly pallor came over +his face, the eyelids closed again, and——</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s dead! he’s dead!” exclaimed his wife, starting +up and endeavouring to throw herself on the body, but +Mr. Murphy prevented this.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>“Dead, ma’am!” he said, still keeping a firm hand +on her shoulder: “dead, ma’am! he’s worth a dozen +dead ones yet. Now—now”—and Mr. Murphy +patted her back, apparently under the delusion that +she was a baby choking—“do be reasonable and just +leave him to us. He’s not dead, and isn’t going to +die. So far as this goes, he may live to bury you;” +and without any more ceremony the young man walked +Mrs. Drewitt out of the room, and sat her down in +the surgery, where he left her alone, after having +procured for her a well-thumbed copy of “Clarissa +Harlowe,” which would, he said, “serve to divert her +mind.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And keep yourself easy, ma’am,” he finished, “for +Mr. Drewitt will be about again, in no time.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You should be more careful, Murphy,” remarked +Doctor Sheen that same night, when he and his assistant +were seated together over their respective tumblers of +punch. “I did not exactly like your saying to Mrs. +Drewitt that her husband might bury her. Some of +the English don’t take those kind of things.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, wasn’t I right?” demanded the other; “mayn’t +he bury her? isn’t he going on as well as a man could +go on? and won’t he live to have sons of his own, please +God, and keep Maxwell out of the estate?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He has been here three times this evening to ask +after him,” said Doctor Sheen, reflectively.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And did he seem sorry when he heard it was +for Kincorth, and not for the Abbey, his uncle was +bound?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, he seemed glad.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did he now?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And he says he did not strike the blow.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>“Who ever thought he did? He had not a stick +in his hand at all.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“His aunt did not know that, for she went on at +him, and he could not edge in a word till she was +tired; but then he began, and told her this, that, and +the other, till he got round her completely: she’s as +soft as salve, and she begged his pardon, and they +are now as thick as thieves. Oh! faith,” added the +Doctor, “and it’s Master Maxwell Drewitt that can +wile the bird off a bush when he likes. It’s a wonderful +tongue he has: to hear him sometimes, you would +think butter could not melt in his mouth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And to hear him at others you would know cheese +would not choke him,” said Mr. Murphy, who had his +own reasons for disliking Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Still it’s a great pity of the young fellow,” said +Doctor Sheen, mixing himself another tumbler of punch, +“for he ought to have had Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It would have been a greater pity of other people +if he had had it,” remarked Mr. Murphy; in which +opinion, however, he chanced to be wrong.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No man could have done worse for other people +than Archibald Drewitt, who, spite of Mr. Murphy’s +hopeful predictions, lay between life and death for +more than a month at Doctor Sheen’s, during which +time the house was besieged with visitors and inquiries.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You must pull him through, Sheen,” said the +Earl of Popingham. “We cannot afford to lose Mr. +Drewitt.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You need never show your face at the Hall again +if he is not able to ride to the first meet this season,” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>chimed in Colonel Vervensoe, while Mr. Pryor, Mr. +Waller, and all the Reds were, if possible, more eager +in their anxiety, more impatient for good tidings, than +the Blues.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But he will get through it, won’t he, Murphy?” +asked Mr. Waller one day when he had met Doctor +Sheen’s assistant on the road near Eversbeg, and insisted +on taking him up to the house for lunch. +“There is no fear now, is there?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; he is out of danger; that is, he is out of +danger now, so far as we know. He will do, if he +takes care of himself. His arm is the worst; we can’t +make a good job of that at all. It was a beautiful +case, and a splendid fracture; but it will never be a +good arm again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will it hinder his hunting?” asked young Waller, +who thought anything that stopped a man’s course +across country the most grievous misfortune possible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hinder his hunting? Is it the like of that would +keep Mr. Drewitt back, do you think? If that was all, +couldn’t he ride with the bridle in his teeth, like a +gentleman I knew down in Tipperary? You may believe +me or not, Mr. Waller, just as you like,” proceeded +Mr. Murphy; “but he had neither arms nor +legs, and yet he hunted as regularly as you do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’d go from here to there to see him,” was Mr. +Waller’s only reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And, indeed, it’s himself would make you welcome,” +answered Mr. Murphy; “that is, if he’s alive; +there was not a funnier fellow nor a harder drinker in +the county.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My cousin was round seeing Mr. Drewitt the other +day,” remarked Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>“Yes, but he did not see him,” said the assistant. +“He had a long talk with Mrs. Drewitt. We’re glad +of anybody that will keep her out of the sick room; +and Mr. Pryor wanted to get speech with some of +them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes,” said the other, “he was going back to London, +and wished to express his regret and all the rest +of it. Upon my conscience, I never was so frightened +in my life. He went down—Pryor, I mean—as +if he had been shot. Fainted dead away.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He ought to take three tumblers of punch every +night going to bed,” observed Mr. Murphy; “it would +strengthen his nervous system.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He was delighted with Mrs. Drewitt—came home +here in perfect raptures about her. She did not strike +me as being anything remarkable.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Miss Susan Drewitt is a handsome woman,” answered +Mr. Murphy; “but Mrs. Drewitt is more of a +woman—do you understand me, sir? She has not +much spirit, but she has a sweet temper. She is pretty, +to my taste; and for a woman, I consider her uncommonly +sensible—uncommonly,” and Mr. Murphy drained +a bumper to her health, after which he suddenly recollected +that Dr. Sheen would be expecting him, and +rose to take his departure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“When do you think of moving him?” asked Mr. +Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“In about a week’s time, if he goes on well,” said +Mr. Murphy. “We are to have down a mighty easy +carriage from Lord Marsden’s, and I think it won’t +hurt him. It must be uncomfortable for Mrs. Drewitt +staying at Dr. Sheen’s, though we do our best; and +this much I’ll say for her,” added Mr. Murphy, “that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>an easier-pleased or an easier-served lady I would +never wish to see. She makes no fuss and she gives +no trouble, and, for my own part, I wish she was to +live in the house for ever.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>As for Mrs. Drewitt herself, she was Mr. Murphy’s +friend for life. What she would have done without +him during that illness she never knew. He did not +seem to know the meaning of the word despondency.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was a doctor’s business to cure, to be sure it +was. When a doctor could not cure, send for the +nurse, and a coffin, and a lawyer to make the will; but +till Mrs. Drewitt saw the lawyer, at any rate, she ought +not to give way.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He went up to Kincorth for her. He did her errands; +he posted her letters; he kept watch while she +slept; he told her stories; he listened to her while she +talked about England.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s the place I’d like to go to,” he said. +“What chance has a man in a place like this? a man +that is a man, I mean, and has any push in him. +What do you see in a place like this, but broken heads +and fever, and children being born, and old men and +women dying? Except, may be, an odd case of cancer, +middle-aged people never die of any out-of-the-way +disease. A child could prescribe for them. And as +for work, ma’am, nobody in London would credit it! +Doctor Sheen is the dispensary doctor, you know. +Well, if we were earning ten thousand a year each +out of it, there could not be more expected from us. +They come in the middle of the night here, and ring—ring—ring, +just as if one ought to be standing +behind the door waiting to answer it, and then, ‘It’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>the misthress is taken ill, and ye’re to come at wanst,’ +and then we’ve to go through the rain and the snow +and the wind to find the woman. ‘Sorry to have given +us the thrubble, but when she sint she was very bad, +entirely.’ I’d like well to go to London, I would. +Perhaps I might be there before I’d die.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you must remember, Mr. Murphy,” Mrs. +Drewitt was wont to say, “that the streets are not +paved with gold there, though I know many country +people imagine they are.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“True, ma’am; but they must be full of patients. +I have always fancied that there must be some place +on the face of God’s earth where, if men are willing +to work hard, they may gather abundantly; but let +that place be where it will, it is not Duranmore.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>All of which set Mrs. Drewitt thinking, and wondering +more and more what Maxwell was to do. Would +he come back to Kincorth, she marvelled? Would her +entreaties avail now? After what had happened, would +he listen to her? Give her the opportunity and she +would try. And Maxwell gave her the opportunity by +asking if he could assist her in any way when she was +removing his uncle to Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Can I help—may I help?” he said eagerly; but +Mrs. Drewitt answered—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am afraid to let him see you for the present. I +do not wish to speak to him about you; about the +election, I mean, for a little while. But I should like +you to return to Kincorth. I know he will be glad, +when he is better, to hear you are under the same +roof with him. I can take so much on my own responsibility, +Maxwell; and I do take it, and ask you +most earnestly to come back to us once more.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>“I have started on my road,” he said, “and I may +not retrace my steps; but I thank you all the same. +Whenever he is strong enough to see me, tell me to +come, and I will come to Kincorth, though not to stay +there.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish there was not any Kincorth standing between +us,” answered Mrs. Drewitt, very truthfully, +“and that we could all live at peace together.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Perhaps we may, some day,” was Maxwell’s reply. +He was thinking of the vow he had made to himself, +of the time when he was to be rich and his uncle poor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Would there be peace then? When the tables were +turned—when he was the benefactor, could he afford +to let bygones be bygones; could he then be generous +enough to say, let there be peace between us at last?</p> + +<p class='c013'>That was what he was wondering while Mrs. Drewitt +stood silent and looked in his face, and marvelled +what made its expression change so swiftly and vary +so often.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There came a day when she knew all, when she +hated Maxwell more than he had ever hated his uncle; +when she spurned his proffered kindnesses, when there +was war waged between them, war to the death, which +ended but with life.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Had anyone told Mrs. Drewitt then that she could +ever learn to prefer strife to peace, she would have +declared it was impossible; and yet as time went by +the impossible grew possible, and the possible came +to pass.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But at that early stage of her married life Mrs. +Drewitt had no strong interests blinding her, no feeling +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>in favour of this person or against that, warping +her judgment and leading her astray.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She loved her husband, who owned Kincorth; she +was sorry for Maxwell, who did not own it; but at the +same time Mr. Drewitt, whom she loved, was master +for life, while his nephew had not a penny.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Reverse the cases, and how would Mrs. Drewitt +have felt? That, my reader, is what we shall find out +when the tale of the years is completed—when the +story of the years is told.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX.<br> <span class='c011'>Mrs. Drewitt understands.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>It was winter—winter on the grand sea-coast—winter +among those everlasting hills; and Agnes Drewitt +came to understand how the season might be more +endurable in the country than in London; came to see +how the breakers dashing on the rocks—how the +waves rolling up on the shore—how the mountains +covered with snow—how the swelling streams, and +the roaring torrents might be less monotonous and depressing +than the fine perspective of a London street, +or the exhilarating spectacle of a yellow fog.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She was beginning to like Kincorth. Home—be +it ever so homely, ever so lonely, ever so uncomfortable—has +a great charm for a woman like Mrs. Drewitt; +and though her lot was in many respects not an enviable +one, still she was becoming reconciled to it. She +was growing to know the people and to like them; she +was contriving how to get her household into more +orderly ways. She had talked with her husband, and +got him to consent to see Maxwell. Altogether, on +the particular afternoon of which I am speaking, Mrs. +Drewitt did not feel unhappy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She was going out for a walk, a long walk, all by +herself; and after long confinement to the house, after +constant attendance on an invalid, the idea of fresh +air, of a little pilgrimage beside Duranmore Bay, all +round Eversbeg Head, and so on nearly to Eversbeg +Abbey, did not prove unpleasant.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>She had been rather a prisoner since her arrival in +Ireland, and freedom seemed sweet. She had never +been round Eversbeg Head, which she could see so +plainly from her bedroom windows. She had never +been very near the Atlantic, for she did not call Duranmore +Bay the Atlantic; and she wanted to dip her +hand in it for once, and write to her sister, “I have +touched the great ocean.” She longed to stand on +some point of land whence she could see thousands and +thousands of miles away. She had some vague notion, +I fancy, of getting a glimpse of America; but be this +as it may, she intensely enjoyed the idea of the walk, +and meant to make the most of it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is a much nearer way you know, Auntie,” +said Kathleen, “thrau the road by Eversbeg Head; +but if you wish to get a good view of the Atlantic, +you must go by the coast. It is not a nice clear day, +though. You ought to have seen it in fine weather.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh! I think it a lovely day,” answered Mrs. Drewitt, +and as she walked along, while the wind drove +the clouds before her, she repeated to herself that it +was lovely—that she had never enjoyed anything so +much in all her life before.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The election had long been over. Mr. Sache and +his family were in Dublin, and the “Castle,” as he +somewhat pompously called his house—a building all +wings and turrets and loopholes and weathercocks—was +left in charge of servants.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Duranmore had subsided into its state of normal +dullness. Fishermen mended their nets, labourers went +about their accustomed work, the shopkeepers did their +usual small amount of business. There was no more +fighting in the streets, the public-houses were emptied +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>of the crowds of drunken men that had once filled +them full to overflowing. The Earl and Countess of +Popingham were in France, Lord Marsden in Rome, +Mr. and Mrs. Munks in London, and thus Mrs. Drewitt +had, after a fashion, the country to herself, to enjoy +thoroughly and completely, if she liked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And she did like. She loved to look at the +mountains with the clouds flying fast over them as +though hurrying, hurrying away. She loved the wild +hills, the distant ravines, the rivers that came bounding +down from the far-off heights and went rushing to the +sea. She loved the bay when the waters were dark +like the sky, when the waves came up towards Duranmore, +that was now so quiet and orderly. She loved +to pause and look at the whitewashed cottages, at the +pretty, picturesque children, who hung their curly +heads abashed as the lady passed by. She loved the +salutation of the country people, some of whom “made +bould to ask her how the masther was.” She was not +a stranger among strangers now. She was taking root +in the soil, and learning to love the very shamrocks in +the grass.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She left Duranmore behind her, and still went on. +Spite of recent rains the granite road was hard and +dry beneath her feet. Above her head the high wind +drove the clouds before it. “You are going to England,” +she thought, “but I do not wish to be travelling +there with you now.” The western breeze blew a +colour into her cheeks, and disarranged her hair, and +lifted her veil, and kissed her sweet face caressingly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I love the wind,” she thought; “it is fresh and +pure, and it comes from travelling over the great sea, +instead of bringing the taint of large cities on its +<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>breath;” and she turned, even while she was thinking +this, round Eversbeg Head, and the wide Atlantic and +the full force of the western breeze burst upon her +at once.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thousands of miles! Millions upon millions of +tossing billows! Oh! thou great God Almighty! who +can look across the restless ocean and not think of +Thee! Who can forget, while standing by the sea and +watching the great waters come thundering upon the +shore, that Thou hast set bounds to the waters and +said, “Here shall thy proud waves be stayed”—who, +looking over the trackless expanse of ocean, but must +feel that all unseen the feet of the Most High have +traversed it?</p> + +<p class='c013'>When we see this work of the Lord, His wonders +in the deep; when we perceive how at His command +the floods arise, and how at His word the storm ceases; +when we remember that though the waves of the sea +are mighty and rage horribly, still that the Lord God +who dwelleth on high is mightier; when we think that +he holds the waters in the hollow of his hand, do we +not seem for a moment, amid raging tempests and +foaming billows, to catch a glimpse of the Infinite? +Looking over the waste of waters, does not our weak +mortality appear able to grasp for an instant the idea +of immortality? Can we not imagine that no material +horizon bounds our view—that we are gazing away +and away across the ocean into eternity?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thousands of miles, friends! Which of us has not +at one time or other let his heart go free over the +waters? Who has not stood by the shore silent, while +his inner self—his self that never talks save to his +God and his own soul—has gone out from his body +<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>and tossed with the billows, and answered the sullen +roar of the waters, and risen and sunk with the waters +as they rose and fell, rose and fell, and felt the +breaking of the foam, the sobbing plash of the great +ocean, as it rolls up on the sands and over the rocks +and stones and shells of earth, while depth calleth unto +depth and the giant floods clap their hands together?</p> + +<p class='c013'>And oh! with what a terrible sadness does that +second self come back to us! It has been out listening +to strange voices, hearing strange sounds, learning +solemn truths. It has been out on the billows, on the +foam, among the spray and the clouds and the tempest—out +and away to the very confines of the invisible +world. It has been restless like the ocean, and it comes +back to be set within the bounds of flesh; it has been +free, and behold it must return to chains and fetters; +it has been telling of its troubles to the ocean, and the +ocean has lifted up its mighty arms and mourned out its +sorrowful reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mourning—mourning—never silent, never still—now +lashing itself up into fury—now tossing +hither and thither as it seems to us without plan or +purpose; now wave following after wave, as man follows +after man in the ranks of a vast army; now flinging +its waters on the shore—now striving to climb the +steep sides of some rugged rock; fretting itself as we +fret ourselves—moaning as we moan—toiling as we +toil—restless as we are; now receding—now advancing—but +never at peace; in its strong moods +wild and tumultuous—in its calmest moments stirred +by the ground swell, ruffled by the lightest breeze!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Well may man love this deep, inexplicable, unfathomable +ocean, for as it through the ages has gone +<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>on sobbing and mourning and struggling, so man +through the years of his life goes mourning and struggling +too.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Some thoughts like these passed through Mrs. Drewitt’s +mind as she stood at the base of Eversbeg Head, +and looked out over the Atlantic. She had never seen +anything like it before; the ocean had never filled her +heart and saddened it till now.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Though not much of a traveller, she had, like most +people, known the sea in its quieter aspect. She had +visited Brighton; she had been to Hastings; she had +seen the flat Norfolk coast, and beheld the mud banks +in the Essex Hundreds; but the sea in any of the places +I have mentioned was not like the sea that broke over +the rocky headlands of the wild West; neither was the +desolate shore she stood on like unto the civilized +shores she was once familiar with, where bathing boxes +were drawn up on the shingle, and men and women +walked upon the parade, and the bare windows of +lodgings to let looked out above the calm blue waters.</p> + +<p class='c013'>An unromantic lady—middle-aged, shall we say—and +with no particular beauty of face or figure, who +pursues the even tenour of her unexciting life, is of +the same genus, doubtless, as Lady Macbeth, Joan of +Arc, or Mary Queen of Scots. Naturalists would declare +them to be all women together; but then they +were different women, and not much alike, we may +suppose, in personal appearance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is thus with the sea: we have now the respectable +matron, and anon the queen of tragedy; we have +the smooth face, the well-established conventionalities; +the world’s customs in one place, in another we have +anger and passion, and wild beauty and rugged grandeur; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>and, above all, thousands of miles of ocean, millions +of tossing billows.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had never seen anything like it—never seen +such a sea under such a sky before; never seen a vessel +out before in rough weather; never thought to look +upon such an expanse of angry waters as now met her +view.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She turned and looked towards Kincorth. There, +secure on the hill-side, it stood in its tranquil beauty; +she looked further north still, towards Duranmore Point, +and saw it gloomy and impassable, stretching out into +the sea. Far and far out she could tell where the +sunken rocks lay—she knew by the sheets of white, +foam that broke upon them; to her left, on the other +side of Eversbeg Bay, she saw a low green hill—green +even under that wintry sky, which looked calm and +tranquil, though the wild waves were dashing round +and about it. Up the bays the water rolled dark and +sullen, but still calm by comparison with what they +looked out to seaward.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Among the billows a ship was labouring and striving, +and when Mrs. Drewitt reluctantly pursued her onward +way, she left it making with caution for Duranmore +Bay, putting in there out of the way of the coming +storm.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘And so He bringeth them into the haven where +they would be,’” murmured Mrs. Drewitt, as she neared +her own destination.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Did she ever forget her first view of the great Atlantic, +do you imagine, my reader? Did the stormy +ocean, those foaming billows, those restless waves ever +fade out of her memory as the years went by?</p> + +<p class='c013'>When she passed, in a far different place, to the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>haven which God had appointed for her, was not the +roar of those mighty waters still in her ears? did she +not feel like that reeling vessel, weary of the struggle +with the winds and the waves? and was she not glad +to turn into any harbour where she might be at rest?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Thinking of the boundless Atlantic, she continued +on her way, till she came to a tract of poor, barren +land, on the very edge of Eversbeg Bay, which tract +of land was Maxwell Drewitt’s sole inheritance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A child whom she met on the way gladly turned +back and showed Mrs. Drewitt which was Headlands +Cottage.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Headlands Cottage! Headlands Hovel would have +been nearer the mark, she thought, as she knocked +with her knuckles at the door, which, for a wonder in +that description of house, was shut.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell Drewitt answered her summons in person, +and requested her to enter his poor habitation with all +the courtesy of a grand seigneur.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The cabin—for it was nothing better than a +cabin—contained but two rooms, in one of which +Maxwell slept, whilst he lived, read, ate, wrote, and +planned in the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had an old woman who came in and “did for +him,” so he explained to his aunt, and who, being at +that present moment in a kitchen which he had extemporized +out of a cow-shed, would be happy to +make Mrs. Drewitt a cup of tea if she wished for it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But in any case,” finished Maxwell, “I will tell +her to bring it in;” and he left the room to do so, +while Mrs. Drewitt looked round at her leisure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a blazing turf fire on the hearth, and +near the fire stood a common deal table covered with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>books, papers, and plans. The apartment boasted two +chairs, and Mrs. Drewitt occupied one of them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The floor was of earth, swept clean; the walls were +whitewashed; the roof was unceiled, and between the +blackened rafters she could see the thatch. Besides +the table and chairs, the room boasted no other furniture +of any kind, sort, or description, except a writing-desk +and a hair trunk. The walls were decorated with +pistols, guns, riding-whips, and fishing-rods. It was in +a place like this Maxwell Drewitt had elected to make +his first start in life, and Mrs. Drewitt could not help +admiring him for it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I wish I were able to sketch that room for you. I +should like to show how the firelight fell on Maxwell’s +dark face; how the shadows lay on the floor while the +gloom of the winter evening gathered, deepened and +deepened, out of doors.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was no false pride about Maxwell Drewitt. +He had that virtue, at any rate. If the king had +called, in passing, the young man would have felt no +shame about receiving royalty in the only house he +owned; and for this reason Mrs. Drewitt found that it +was impossible for her to speak about the place in +which she found him. She could as soon have remonstrated +with an Indian on the inconvenience of living +in a wigwam as she could have talked to her nephew +concerning his abode.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was his, and he was a gentleman, and he had +chosen it for himself. She had no more right to come +there and pity him for his earthen floor and his scant +furniture than royalty would have to find fault with +the dinner-service at Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>Headlands Cottage was Maxwell Drewitt’s castle, +and being his castle, Mrs. Drewitt respected it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She had come to speak to him about many things,” +she said. “First of all, your uncle is much better—almost +well again, thank God, and he is able and wishful +to see you. I thought, perhaps, you would come +back with me this evening,” she hesitated; “but in +case you were unable to do so, I told one of the +men to walk a little way on this side Duranmore to +meet me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have an appointment for this evening,” answered +Maxwell, “but I will walk back with you as far as the +lodge gates.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And when will you come to Kincorth?” she +asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To-morrow, if it be convenient to you,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“As if any time were inconvenient!” she exclaimed; +“as if I should not be only too glad to see you back +there, for good and all, I mean.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have got so far on my road,” he replied, “I am +not likely to try another now.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But, Maxwell,” she inquired, “what are you going +to do? Forgive me if I seem impertinent; but how are +you going to live? Do you mean to stay here? What +do you purpose doing for money?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I purpose to work for it,” he answered, “and I +mean to obtain it. I know you only ask what my plans +are, out of kindness, and I, therefore, cannot consider +any question impertinent. You must not, however, +think me rude if I reply that men are not like women; +they do not act from impulse; they do not commence +to build without counting the cost; they do not start on +a journey without knowing something of the land towards +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>which they are travelling. To speak more plainly +still, I did not leave Kincorth without sketching out a +plan for my own future, and I mean to perfect that +plan if I can. When I have perfected it, you shall see +the result. Meantime, be satisfied,” he added, with a +smile. “I have food, I have raiment. I have a roof +to cover me, and I have a fire at which to warm myself +withal. More than this,” he went on, “it is all +mine own; that is, mine, so long as I pay my rent +punctually. If you came round Eversbeg you must +have passed some land which is mine without paying +rent at all, and in another year I mean to have it in +my own hands. This farm joins my land, so I have +my territories close together, and there is a small house +on my freehold which, when once Blake gives up possession, +I mean to have put into thorough repair, and +where I hope you will come and see my improvements.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then you never mean to return to Kincorth?” +she said. “Never?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He looked at her, and then he looked into the +fire, and then he flung on a few more peats before he +answered—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I may, perhaps, but you ought not to wish me +to do so.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why?” she asked; and as he only laughed in +reply, she went on. “You always speak in riddles, +Maxwell. What do you mean?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You really wish to know?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do; of course I do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then I will tell you before you go. Now, what +else did you want to speak to me about?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>“About your sisters—about twenty things. First +about your sisters. They are a great care to me, Maxwell. +I do not know what I ought to do. I do not +know if I can do anything.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What is the particular emergency?” inquired Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Their position is not what it ought to be,” she +explained, “and I cannot make it different. If Susan +and Wilhelmina would do their parts,” she continued, +“things might be better; but they seem to take a delight +in thwarting all my plans. Wilhelmina rides from +morning till night. She visits with people your uncle +does not seem to know and that I have never seen. +She will not read or practice, or improve herself in +any way: and as for Susan—” but here Mrs. Drewitt +paused.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, what about Susan?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is a Captain Ellenham who is always about +the house,” said his aunt; “always with Susan,” and +she stopped again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is possibly in love with her,” remarked Maxwell, +with a smile, “though it does not say much for +his taste.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But if he were in love with her,” argued Mrs. +Drewitt, “should he not want to see her uncle, to see +me, to ascertain how her family were likely to receive +him? There is a secrecy about it which puzzles me. +I do not wish to speak to your uncle, but I thought +that you—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do not wish to have anything to do with Susan’s +affairs,” answered Maxwell, shortly; “I think my uncle +is the proper person to interfere.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And Wilhelmina?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>“Wilhelmina will not hurt, unless she gets her +neck broken some of these days.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And Kathleen?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What about Kathleen?” asked Maxwell, raising +his head and looking at Mrs. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nothing, only your uncle wants her to be sent +to school: now, Maxwell, ought I to let her go? I can +teach her all she needs to learn; I can see to her when +she is ill; and she is such a comfort to me, I am so +fond of her—so fond!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But still, would it not be better for her to go to +school?” asked Maxwell. “Would the companionship +of girls of her own age not be desirable? would the +early hours, the regularity, the whole discipline of a +school not be good for her? If Susan and Willy had +been sent away they might have been different to what +they are. You will never have time to attend to +Kathie. Altogether, if my uncle be willing to pay for +her, it is best she should go.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You think so?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But she is so delicate.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She will be stronger out of Galway.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And we are so fond of each other.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is quite another matter,” said Maxwell, and +then, to his amazement, Mrs. Drewitt began to cry.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His decision was different to what she had expected +it would be, and she and Kathleen had agreed to abide +by that decision.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I feel certain,” he said, “that you would rather +do what is best for Kathleen’s future than what you +and she would like in the present. I think it is a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>good thing for her to go to school, but of course that +is a matter for you and my uncle to settle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is for you to settle,” answered Mrs. Drewitt, +“and she shall go to school. Now, about another thing, +Maxwell. What kind of a woman is Lady Emmeline +Vervensoe?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You know almost as much of her as I do,” was +his reply; “you saw her at the election. You may +judge from that very much what she is.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She has been often over to Kincorth lately,” said +his aunt, “she seems to wish to be very intimate with +me; she is very kind and very attentive, but your +uncle does not like her much, and—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is not to be expected he would like her after +the part she took against Mr. Sache,” laughed Maxwell. +“So far as I know, Lady Emmeline has not any +harm about her; she is much wiser, in my opinion, +than Mrs. Munks, and she is a great deal prettier. I +think you would get on very well together, and that +you might find her a pleasant acquaintance. Does my +uncle not wish you to visit her?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is very great friends with Colonel Vervensoe, +you know,” answered Mrs. Drewitt; “but we cannot +have him, at least I do not like having him, without +his wife, and I thought I would ask you about Lady +Emmeline.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is nothing against her, if that is what you +mean,” Maxwell replied: “she is perfectly and unexceptionably +proper, although she did wear a red scarf +at the election and canvass her husband’s tenantry. +But then, really they are as much her tenants as his. +She has more money than he, and gives it to him +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>freely enough, I believe. I have not seen her these +two months.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So she told me,” remarked Mrs. Drewitt; “she +was asking me where you were and what you were +doing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How very kind!” laughed Maxwell. “I should +have thought so insignificant a person far beneath her +ladyship’s notice,” and Maxwell laughed again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I must go now,” said Mrs. Drewitt, rising to depart; +“it is getting dusk, and Kathie will be uneasy. +Now do not think of coming with me, Patrick is certain +to be somewhere on the road; I left a message for +him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You must not deny me the pleasure of being your +escort for all that,” answered Maxwell, and the two +left the heat of the blazing turf-fire and walked back +together by the nearer road to Kincorth. As they +walked they talked—about Ireland, about her scenery, +about her people, about her wrongs, about her want of +prosperity. Then Mrs. Drewitt told her nephew how +fond she was getting of the country, and spoke +enthusiastically of the view from Eversbeg Head; and +pleased, almost in spite of himself, by her admiration +for his native land, Maxwell began to wish they could +be good friends—that no Kincorth stood between +them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Tell me,” she said, as they parted, “why you +think I ought not to wish you back at Kincorth. I +can imagine that you might be a great comfort to me +and a great help to your uncle.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I tell you, I am afraid you will be angry,” he +answered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Angry! you are jesting. What is the reason?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>For a moment Maxwell hesitated, then he said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you remember my saying once that I did not +dislike you for yourself, but only for being my uncle’s +wife?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Perfectly; but I hope you do not dislike me now +for that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, not for that,” was the slow reply; “not for +that, exactly, but it is not in flesh and blood—at +least it is not in my flesh and blood—to feel any +great amount of attachment for a woman whose children +will keep me out of Kincorth for ever.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She never answered him by a word. In the twilight +he could see her turn first red and then white: +he could see enough in her face to assure him his +guess had been correct, and that there was an heir +coming to inherit Kincorth, its woods, its lawns, its +streamlets.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Never hence by the strength of his own right hand, +by the power of his own work, by the force of his +own industry, might the lands of his ancestors return +to him. The son of a younger son would possess Kincorth; +while he, the son of the eldest son, was earning +his bread in his barren farm by the desolate sea-shore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As for Mrs. Drewitt, she re-entered Kincorth a +different woman to that she had left its gates. She +understood her position now. She knew at last why +Maxwell and his two elder sisters detested her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not for myself, but because of the sons I may +have,” she thought; and it seemed to her that everything +which was strong and evil in her weak and +tender nature sprung to life and prompted her to do +battle for the sake of her still unborn child.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Had he measured her character accurately, would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>Maxwell have spoken to her as he did? I doubt it—doubt +whether willingly he would have turned her +friendship into enmity, and taught her to guard the inheritance +of her children with a jealous watchfulness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was not for herself—it was for no benefit she +ever expected to have out of the property that Mrs. +Drewitt vowed Maxwell Drewitt should never own +Kincorth—never if she had a living son.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Who can sow good grain as fast as the Evil One +can plant tares? who can learn to cleave to the right, +even in twenty times the space which it takes him to +adopt the wrong? In the garden of Eden the serpent +speedily beguiled Eve into eating of the tree; but +through all the centuries that have passed, with their +sorrow, away since then, the Maker of the universe has +never been able to induce his children to cast that evil +and cursed fruit from them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A moment for the one—thousands of years for +the other. An instant sows the seed—the labour +of a lifetime will not eradicate the noxious plant the +seed produces. We are strong for evil; we are weak +for good. We are frail; we are erring. God have +mercy upon us! for even the best man and the best +woman proves, when put to the test, to be but a +miserable sinner.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER X.<br> <span class='c011'>Maxwell’s Engagements.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>After leaving Mrs. Drewitt at the entrance to +Kincorth, Maxwell slowly retraced his steps to Duranmore, +thinking, thinking as he walked. He had never +done thinking about his plans, his projects, his schemes, +his hopes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As a man strives to perfect an invention, as he +meets every mechanical difficulty, as he seeks to understand +what natural law is standing in the way of +his success—so Maxwell Drewitt worked out the +design of his own future painfully and laboriously.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is one thing to sketch out a picture, and another +to fill it in; one thing to draw a house, and another +to build it; one thing to say I will do this or +that, and quite another to accomplish the project.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is easy to plan; it is hard to finish. We can +dream dreams, sitting in the firelight or lying on the +green hill’s side, but if we would make those dreams +realities, we must work hard and think hard; we must +think till our brains are weary, we must work through +the years for success.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The lives of all famous men repeat the same story, +but the hearts of most young people reject it with impatient +scorn.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They want the harvest and the seed-time to come +together. It seems to them awful not to be able to +gather till the autumn, to have to toil before they eat. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>Seeing the height to which others have climbed, they +refuse to believe that the ascent can be so difficult. +The successes which genius and labour have found it +the most difficult to compass look to the eyes of inexperience +easy and commonplace.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Can anything go more smoothly along the lines +than engine and tender and carriages and trucks? +Can anything be simpler, more natural, more prosaic +than a railway train? and yet, oh! friends, how many +a man’s thoughts are concentrated there! how many a +man’s work has combined together to make up the sum +total which you see!</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is thus with everything in life, be it small or be +it great—the result seems to bear no proportion to +the labour expended to produce it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Time, thought, industry—we must give all these +before, weary and worn, we can hope to reach the +goal of such success as our souls desire. We must do +what Maxwell Drewitt did—spare no pains, repine +at no hardships, grumble at no obstacles on the road.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And yet there was one thing he lacked if he desired +to compass such success as might not only +give him competence and station, but happiness and +content.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was labouring for riches and position, but he +forgot that, even in this world, riches and position, +though much, are not everything. What are the +daintiest viands, the choicest wines, to the man who +can bring no appetite to table? What are lands and +houses, what are fields and trees, if the eyes that +look over them are dim with weeping, heavy with +care?</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Except the Lord build the house, they labour +<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>in vain that build it. Except the Lord keep the city, +the watchman waketh but in vain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, +to eat the bread of carefulness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>I wonder how many young men believe these words +to be true? I wonder how many, walking in the dim +light through which all, rich or poor, must one day +pass, would be able to say it was false?</p> + +<p class='c013'>The words which we listen to with careless ears at +one time of our lives, thinking they were addressed +solely to men who spent their strength for nought and +disquieted themselves in vain thousands of years since, +we come finally to understand hold a meaning within +them which is and will be eternally true this year and +next, and through all the years that are to come—true +for the man who is toiling for fame, for the +merchant who is heaping up wealth, for the woman +who is labouring to secure a good position, as it was +for Maxwell Drewitt walking though the gathering +darkness by the shore of Duranmore Bay.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was planning, plotting, scheming. He had +youth, strength, hope, resolution. There was no +reason why he should not have made a good thing of +life, a good thing for himself and for others, save this—that +in the city of his heart he would not suffer +that sentinel of the Lord—conscience—to keep +watch; that he was selfish, unprincipled, unfeeling; that +he did not care whether the car of his progress crushed +men and women under his wheels; that he was overconfident +in himself; that he believed, if we exhaust +the matter completely, man to be stronger than his +Maker—the creature, than the Creator.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I am not attempting to write a religious novel, I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>am not trying to interleave my book with sermons, +but there is no author who can tell the story of a +man’s life truly, and not speak of the mistakes he +made, of the errors he committed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If it be but an extract out of the volume of +existence that we profess to give—but the account +of this one’s love-making, of the disappointment of +his friend—if we stop short when we find the record +becoming troublesome to ourselves, or likely to +prove displeasing to our readers, we may dispense with +much minutiæ which is indispensable when we are +tracing a human being’s footsteps from the cradle to +the grave.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When we take a man’s life, and write his biography, +indifferently it may be, but still as well as we +are able, we must tell where he went wrong, and how +that wrong brought forth bitter fruit in the future. +We must tell not only of the crimes of which the law +of the land takes cognizance, but also of those other +transgressions which are not punished with fine or imprisonment, +but by the heavy hand of the Lord God +himself. It is useless to try to tell a story and be +bound to steer clear of this matter of eternal truth, of +eternal justice. I might as well lay down my pen at +once were the subject beyond a novelist’s province; +for the sum total of Maxwell Drewitt’s mistake in life +was, that he thought the will of man paramount—that—as +many a reader will scoff over the few +last pages—he scoffed at the idea of retribution, of +repentance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He built his house, but the Lord had no hand in +it; he made his fortune, but the blessing of God was +not upon it; he became a prosperous man, but the day +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>came when he acknowledged with bitterness that prosperity +is not always happiness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In the spring-time of youth he reared his life’s +edifice on the sands; when the winter came—the +winter with its storms, its rain, its snows, its frosts—he +saw the work of years scattered to the four +winds of heaven.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was just; but it was terrible. To me there is +something too mournful for words to utter in the idea +of that man walking on through the darkness—planning, +plotting, scheming—for the end that I +shall yet have to tell. Strong to work, willing to +labour, independent enough to achieve, he had yet the +seeds of ultimate failure in him—he was walking on +blindly to meet his doom.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As he walked along, with the wind raising the +hair from his forehead, he was thinking—how Kincorth +should yet be his—how the day would come +when his homeward steps would lead him thither, and +not away from its gates; and he was thinking of something +else, too—of something he was going to meet +that very night—of a girl he had tried to make love +him, and not without success.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He passed Ryan’s cottage slowly, passed it and +stopped to listen; then he leaped over the ditch that +divided the lawyer’s little meadow from the road, and +made his way round to the place where his friend’s +hay was stacked. A stream went brawling by to the +sea, and beside the stream Jenny Bourke was waiting +for him—poor little girl! poor foolish child!</p> + +<p class='c013'>From the hour Ryan warned Maxwell Drewitt off +this ground, Maxwell vowed to win her heart. He +did not know then whether she were pretty or ugly, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>sweet or sour, able to take care of herself or guileless +as an infant; but it was all one to Maxwell. He +would pay Ryan out, let his sister be what she pleased. +He knew he was handsome; he knew he was a favourite +with women; he knew he could soon make the +girl fond of him. When he saw her he discovered +something more—that the girl made him care for +her. He had not quite contemplated this possibility, +and it complicated matters a little; but the fact was +so, nevertheless.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The only woman Maxwell Drewitt ever loved was +Jenny Bourke; and the reason that he loved her was +probably because she was so diametrically opposite to +himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When he lay a-dying he thought of her; and +thought then, what I believe to be true, that a prettier +creature than Jenny Bourke never walked on the face +of God’s earth—pretty and soft and gentle; and +faithful to him, at any rate. Oh! sweet Jenny Bourke! +why did you ever go out to meet such a man? why +did you disobey your brother’s commands? why did +you lay your lovely face on his breast, and say that it +was long since you had seen him—long that he had +kept away?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Fair, sweet Jenny! there was never a rose in the +kingdom lovelier, never a lily purer, when Maxwell +Drewitt first cast his dark eyes upon you. Let me +try to sketch the face he saw—the saucy piquante +face that, in the time of his tribulation, in the time of +his wealth, in the hour of death, was still framed in +his memory.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Would she appear before him in the day of judgment, +I wonder? Maxwell Drewitt said not. He said, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>as solemnly as he said he believed he was dying, that +Jenny Bourke would be true to him in the next world +as she had been in this, and that she would never +turn informer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Dark-brown hair; clear white and red complexion; +large eyes, that now seemed brown, now grey, now +black—eyes that varied with the light, with her +thoughts, with her feelings, with her words; lips that +were as red as cherries; teeth white and even, but not +too small; a somewhat short nose;—these were the +features; but then it was not her features, it was +the expression of her face; so joyous, so innocent, so +pure!</p> + +<p class='c013'>I do not know how a man could ever make such a +woman cry and forget seeing her tears. I cannot +imagine how Maxwell Drewitt, fair and false, and +hypocritical and remorseless though he was, could ever +take such a girl to his heart and teach her to nestle +there, knowing all the time he never intended to marry +her; that the hour must come when he would have to +cast her out from her abiding-place.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I thought you never were coming,” she said, with +her sweet Irish voice, soft and low and plaintive as +music over the waters—as the low wind sighing +among the trees. “I thought you had forgotten me—that +I never was to see you again—that—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He stopped her words with kisses; but she laughingly +released herself, and went on.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That you were caring more for the grand ladies +you are so intimate with than for me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“As if any one of them could compare with you,” +he answered; “as if there were any creature on earth +equal to you. How many hundred times am I to tell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>you that I love you, and you only; that you are dearer +to me than life or station or anything else in the world? +But you say these things to try my temper,” he added; +“you say them to make me contradict you—to make +me punish you,” and he kissed brow and cheeks and +lips till Jenny’s face was as red as a rose; till she was +glad that the darkness hid her blushes from his admiring +gaze.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot come out to meet you again,” she said +at length, timidly and hesitatingly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nonsense, Jenny; there is no such word as cannot +in the whole of love’s dictionary.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, will not then, if you like that better,” she +answered, more firmly. “Indeed, indeed,” went on +the girl, “I cannot deceive Timothy any longer; I am +getting that I am afraid to look him straight in the +face; that I dread every sentence he speaks; that I am +frightened of every question he puts. Let us part,” +and as she made this terrible suggestion Jenny began +to sob. “Let us part if you cannot have me tell Timothy; +if you will not speak to him yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The first day I ever saw you, Jenny, what did +your brother say to you after I left the house?” But +Jenny remained mute.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Did he not tell you, to keep out of my way; to +give me no encouragement; to show me no favour? +Did not he tell you that, although I might be a fit +acquaintance for him, I was none for you? that I was +a bad man; a bad nephew; a bad brother; a bad friend? +Did he not give me the worst character you ever heard +given to an unfortunate fellow out of favour with fortune? +Did not he do all this? I know he did, Jenny; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>I know it as well as if I had been sitting in the parlour +listening to him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Maybe you were near it,” suggested Jenny.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, I was not; but he spoke those words, or something +very like those words, to me before you ever +came to Duranmore. He said, ‘I had rather put the +child in her grave than give her to you.’ That was +his summing up. I hear it tingling in my ears yet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wonder you ever looked near me after that!” +remarked Jenny.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ah, Jenny!” said Maxwell Drewitt, “who could +ever see you and not look after you?” and the young +man stole his arm round her waist, and drew her +nearer to him—nearer still.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But if he knew the way things were now, don’t +you think he might change his mind?” she coaxed. +“If he thought that you—that I—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If he thought you loved me, is that it, Jenny?” +he finished. “No, that would make no difference; it +would only make him bitterer. I am a poor man you +see, dear; and a poor man is always a bad man: you +must take patience and wait a while. When I am +able to drive here in my carriage and ask him to give +me his sister, he will then perhaps beg me to step inside; +but till then I must see you as I have seen you, +on the quiet.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot go on with it,” she said. “It is not +right; and I have heard that good can never come out +of evil.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If it be wrong,” he answered, “let the punishment +fall on me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But oh!” said the girl, “we must each bear the +burden of our own faults.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>“When we come to faults, it will be time enough +to discuss that question,” he impatiently retorted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is wrong, though,” she persisted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If you think it wrong then you do not love me,” +he said. “You are not willing to suffer anything for +my sake; you are ready to desert me because I am +poor and in difficulties. Had I been still at Kincorth +I should not have been forced to beg so hard for so +small a favour; but let us part, Miss Bourke, as you +wish all to be at an end between us. I cannot force +you against your will. Give me one kiss, Jenny, and +bid me good-bye. I am used to being scurvily treated. +I will go back to my wretched home, and forswear +love for ever. One more—forgive me, it is the last +time. Now, good-bye. Let me go.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Jenny would not let him go; she hung about +him, she sobbed, she asked forgiveness, she told him +how she should die if he left her in anger, left her in +grief.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He knew her every mood, her every thought almost, +and he could manage her as easily as he +might a child. She had her little qualms of conscience +every now and then about her brother; she had her +little fits of strength when she made all kinds of resolutions +and declared her intention of keeping to them; +she had her instincts too, which perhaps warned her +that in concealment there is mostly danger—that +though stolen waters may be sweet they are generally +unwholesome; she had her hours of sadness, her times +of bitter self-reproach;—but Maxwell had long known +how to deal with her in every mood: he was her +master and she his slave; and the end of all such conversations +invariably was that Jenny promised to be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>guided by her lover’s advice; to do what he told her; +to meet him when he asked her; to keep the fact of +their engagement secret.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He called it an engagement, but whether he wilfully +deceived her or resolutely blinded himself it +would be hard to say: Jenny Bourke implicitly believed +that he would marry her whenever he had +enough money to do so, and her only trouble was lest +her brother should withhold his consent.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As for Maxwell’s intentions! He was very fond of +Jenny, and that is all he ever told even to himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was very fond of the girl: all the worse for her. +That love was the whole of her life: it was then but +a part, a small part, of his. He had other aims, other +objects, other wishes. He had plans into which she +never entered, projects of which she formed no part: +there were whole days when he never thought of her, +or at least never thought save casually. There was +not an hour, there was not a minute, when Jenny did +not think of him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When they parted after a few such stolen minutes +as those I have spoken of, he could put her out of his +memory, he could thrust her out of his head, he could +forget the sweet face, the pleading voice, the twining +arms, the clinging manner, and turn him to his plots +and his schemes again; nay, he could do more—he +could part with the sister and go to meet the brother; +he could make an appointment with Ryan likely to +keep him out of the way while he talked to Jenny, +and then he would tell some lie to account for being +late, and be as mild and gentle as a south wind during +their interview.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There are not many men in the world, more particularly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>not many of Maxwell’s age, with consciences +so elastic as to permit such stretches as these. It is +not usual even for Christians to seethe the kid in its +mother’s milk, and I fancy there are few who would +like to think that they had offered a man hospitality +to the end that they might clandestinely make love to +his sister. Human nature, though not at all times +over-nice or over-particular, will turn squeamish occasionally +about trifles; and if Maxwell Drewitt had +been at all like other people it must have cut him a +little to think, after he left Jenny, that her brother +was waiting for him at Headlands Cottage, wondering +where the deuce Maxwell could have got to.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Had to see madam home,” was that young gentleman’s +explanation. “I think I must be a devilishly +nice sort of fellow when ladies take to visiting me in +an elegant mansion like this,” and Maxwell threw himself +into one of the two chairs his ménage boasted, +and after expressing a hope that Ryan had seen to the +kettle, began to rattle on about Mrs. Drewitt’s visit, +about her pressing invitation to Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I suppose you will soon go back to the old place +now, then,” suggested Mr. Timothy Ryan; “you must +be pretty well tired of this,” and the lawyer glanced +contemptuously round the cabin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would thank you not to sneer at my house,” +answered Maxwell; “I hope to have a better some day, +but it is the best I have at present.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Just so,” argued Ryan; “and as I was saying, +you must be pretty well tired of it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You should think! well, you are not me, that is +the whole thing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But are you not tired?” asked Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>“No; I have not even thought of being tired yet. +Time enough for that when I see a better place to go +to; time enough for that when I have made my fortune!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And how the devil,” asked Mr. Timothy Ryan, +“do you propose making your fortune here?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I mean to set up a private still,” answered Maxwell; +“I mean to turn alchemist; I intend to discover +the philosopher’s stone.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You have your work cut out then,” was the +reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I mean to make the howling wilderness a smiling +plain,” went on Maxwell, unheeding the interruption; +“I mean to see corn growing where corn has never +grown before; I mean to live in advance of my age +and to make money in Connemara.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You won’t make much,” said Ryan, by way of +encouragement.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That depends,” answered Maxwell: “meanwhile, +the certainty before us is punch. Let us drink that +and be happy,” and he pushed the whiskey-bottle over +to Ryan, with the remark that the contents had never +paid the King a halfpenny.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is all the better for that,” remarked Ryan; +“but, not to seem personal, here’s ‘Long life to +him.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Amen,” said Maxwell Drewitt, and the two men +took a pull at the punch together.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And here’s to ‘Ireland: long life to her,’” observed +the lawyer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Amen,” repeated Maxwell, and the pair emptied +their glasses.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t spare the potheen,” urged Maxwell; “don’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>make the creature so weak that it won’t be able to get +into your mouth. Remember the good old Irish receipt +for making punch: first the sugar, then the whiskey, +and then every drop of water after that spoils +it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So it may, but I have to get home to-night,” remarked +Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The more reason you should recruit your strength +for the walk,” observed Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So you won’t go back to Kincorth,” said Ryan, +after a pause devoted to whiskey and water.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; I am better off here. I have food and shelter +in this cabin—as I suppose you would call it. At +Kincorth, excepting a horse, I had nothing but the +run of my teeth. I had no chance of making money; +I had no feeling of independence. In Headlands Cottage, +on the contrary, ‘I am monarch of all I survey, and +my right there is none to dispute.’ I have land; I have +a house; I have bog beyond Eversbeg, I have sea-wreck +on the shore. I have a future; I have hope; I see my way. +I mean yet to be a rich man. When you, Mr. Timothy +Ryan, my worthy creditor, are blacking your fingers +over deeds of settlement and iniquitous wills, I, at +present your humble debtor, will be a great man; able +to make your heart glad by appointing you agent to +my estates. Mix again, man. We shall have many +a talk in years to come about this old cottage, about +these winter nights.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Maxwell laughed, and the turf-fire—the +bright upheaped turf-fire shone on his dark face; and +Mr. Ryan, looking around the room, wondered what +made the young man so merry; what he could see in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>his prospects or his surroundings to inspire him with +such hopes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I confess,” he said, at length, “that I do not see +how you are to do it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My friend,” answered Mr. Maxwell Drewitt, “do +you know anything of the science of agriculture?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No further than that it reluctantly pays rent,” was +the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you know anything of the rotation of crops?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not the faintest idea what you are talking +about,” answered the lawyer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you know anything of the nature of soils?” +persisted his host.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No more than I know of Arabic,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have you ever thought much about manures?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Damn it, I am not a farmer.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, I am; and I have thought about manures; +I have studied the nature of soils; I can tell you all +about the rotation of crops; and I mean to make +money. I mean to turn up these grass lands, that +grow nothing but moss and rushes. I mean to manure +them; I mean to crop them. Harder than ever you +read to be a lawyer, I have been reading to be a +farmer. Pryor has been very good; he has sent me +over books about soils. Turner is a trump; he has introduced +me to an eminent English agriculturist with +whom I correspond. I have ploughed and sowed half +my farm already; I shall get the remainder ploughed, +so that the frost, if any frost come, may eat into the +ground. I have collected sea-weed. I intend to keep +stock after this year. The great mistake in Ireland is +the neglect of stall-feeding. I mean to try it. If you +exhaust the secret of England’s prosperity, it is beer, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>beef, and manure; and I think I ought, as a simple +matter of justice, to have put manure first. Let us +see what sea-weed and stall-feeding will do in Connemara—what +perseverance and resolution can effect +anywhere.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I hope I shall not see you ruined,” was the +reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A beggar cannot be ruined,” said Maxwell, calmly; +and the conversation reverted to general subjects, till +Mr. Ryan rose to take his leave, when Maxwell lighted +him to the door and out into the night with a dip +candle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Wishing it was wax for your sake,” he said, with +a laugh; and then he went back to his sitting-room, +and remained there reading and writing and thinking +for a couple of hours.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Next day he paid his promised visit to Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will stay for dinner?” said Mrs. Drewitt, +whose manner was, as Maxwell noticed, colder than +usual.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do, Maxwell,” urged Kathleen.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Of course he will,” chimed in Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Thank you,” said Maxwell, “but I am engaged—that +is, I have an engagement.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You have always engagements now,” pouted his +sister.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Shows what a great man I am,” answered her +brother, as he left to keep another appointment with +Jenny Bourke—pretty, trustful, foolish Jenny!</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI.<br> <span class='c011'>Warned.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>In the days of which I am writing there were two +kinds of lawyer extant in Ireland—the wholly disreputable +and the eminently respectable.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Among the disreputable every kind and description +of man might be found, providing he was decidedly +clever and not over-scrupulous; the respectable, on the +contrary, were mostly of one pattern, men of standing, +having characters to lose, who were socially quite on +an equality with their clients, and who were as far +above the stock attorney of Irish novelists as an honest +merchant is above a swindling adventurer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The worst of the respectable lawyers was that they +were a little slow; the best of the disreputable lot was +that they were decidedly sharp and shrewd.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Drawn as a rule from the lower middle class, the +latter had all the quickness of the lower orders of Irish +society, all their acuteness of perception, all their +rapidity of jumping to conclusions. In guerilla warfare +the regular army had no chance with them; they were +down on a point of law like a terrier on a rat; they +had every Act of Parliament at their fingers’ ends; +they were perfect scourges in court; they were the +terror of witnesses, the detestation of magistrates. If +there were a flaw in your title, woe betide you if one +of them got scent of it. They were clever, well up +in law, impertinent, impudent, vulgar; they were always +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>talking about the people’s rights; always for the +man who had shot his landlord or his landlord’s bailiff +from behind a hedge; always against the Crown; always +in favour of the Roman Catholics and against +the Protestants.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Unless a landlord had very dirty work indeed on +hand he seldom left his family solicitor to seek advice +from one of these gentlemen; and it was rarely indeed +that any of them so far deserted his original flag as to +serve under the enemy. In politics they were Liberals; +in religion much the same. As a rule, they had been +articled without the regular fee, and came into the profession +by the back stairs. They were the hope of +the vagabond population; they were the deliverers of +many a man from the grievous terrors of the law; they +fought so long as there was a rag of a chance left to +them. If ever they got very rich they settled into +men who upheld the constitution and the government; +but so long as they remained poor—and that was +generally for ever, because they spent as recklessly as +they earned easily—they were for the people: for the +women who went about barefooted; for the men who +lounged through life with their coat-tails trailing the +ground, with their battered hats worn on one side, +with their hands in their pockets, and short pipes in +their mouths.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Of this class Timothy Ryan was a favourable +specimen. He might not have much principle, but he +had a heart. He was known to forgive men their +costs, though he was also known to have done many a +thing which his best friends could scarcely consider +honest. He was not a hard agent, though he was +certainly not an honest man. His conscience had never +<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>stood in his way, but his feelings had. He was immensely +popular with the lower orders, but he had not +the entrée into any of the gentlemen’s houses in the +neighbourhood, except into that of Waller of Eversbeg, +whose agent he was, and to whose table he was often +invited.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For the rest, he had little society save Mr. Murphy, +Dr. Sheen’s assistant; the parish priest, and a retired +sea captain who lived on the Duranmore side of +Eversbeg Head. With Maxwell Drewitt, whom he had +known for years, his intimacy was entirely of a business +character, and yet Ryan was proud of the acquaintanceship, +such as it was. He felt it gave him a +certain standing knowing a Drewitt of Kincorth, even +although that Drewitt had not the remotest chance of +ever owning Kincorth. He knew he owed Waller’s +agency—a tremendous lift for him—to Maxwell +having brought the owner of Eversbeg into Inchnagawn +Cottage to shelter during a storm; he was well aware +young Drewitt could benefit him still more if he chose; +for all of which reasons, Ryan cultivated Maxwell; +whilst, for various sufficient reasons of his own, Maxwell +cultivated Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jenny Bourke was Ryan’s half-sister. They were +children of the same mother; Mrs. Ryan having changed +her name for that of Bourke within two years of her +first husband’s death.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Of the Ryans’ union there had been many sons: +one, Timothy, the eldest, settled at Duranmore as a +lawyer; another ran away to sea; a third enlisted; a +fourth emigrated; and so at last poor Mrs. Bourke departed +this life in despair of ever seeing them reunited, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>and left her only daughter to the care of her sister and +to the guardianship of Timothy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As for Mr. Bourke, he had long before deserted +his wife and married a younger and more attractive-looking +woman in England; indeed, rumour said that +Mrs. Ryan was by no means his first essay in matrimony. +He had a way of winning widows and securing +their little fortunes, and then disappearing like a flash +of lightning.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Some people declared Bourke was not his name at +all; but be this as it may, Jenny had never been called +by any other, and she never hoped to be called by any +other, unless indeed it might some day happen that +Maxwell were able to make her his wife.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Murphy had something more than a liking for +the girl, but Jenny turned her coldest shoulder on the +assistant when he called.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s that blackguard Maxwell at his tricks again,” +thought Mr. Murphy; “I am sure he sees her somehow:” +but Mr. Murphy was a wise man and kept his +own counsel. He did not frighten Jenny by spreading +a net in her sight, but he drew back and watched who +threw the crumbs, he felt confident, the girl came down +to pick up.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’ve my eye on you, my boy,” he would remark +to himself when he met young Mr. Drewitt and exchanged +bows with him; “I have my eye on you. +Give you rope enough and you will run it into a +noose for yourself, or I am greatly mistaken. Good-morning, +sir; fine weather this for the country.” And +he would ride off on his rough pony, while Maxwell +trudged over the Connemara roads on foot.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His uncle had offered him leave to take a couple +<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>of horses out of the stable at Kincorth, but Maxwell +declined the gift.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not one of them shall give me a lift up,” he said +to Ryan, and Ryan applauded his spirit even while he +wondered at it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Where the deuce does he get the money from?” +considered the lawyer: “where can he get it? for a man +is not able to live for nothing, even in a cabin; and he +pays wages, and buys implements, and hires horses, +and draws sea-weed. I should like to know who is +backing him. Can it be Turner? It is not impossible.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Maxwell took every pains to foster this idea, +and to make Mr. Ryan think not only that Turner was +backing him, but also that Mr. Waller and Mr. Pryor +were willing to help him in his endeavours.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In reality, however, he did not for many a long +day receive the slightest assistance from any of his +male acquaintances, whether Irish or English.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was Lady Emmeline Vervensoe who helped him +into the saddle; it was Lady Emmeline who, when she +heard he had left Kincorth with the intention of trying +to push his way on in the world, gave him a considerable +sum of money, saying significantly as she +pressed it into his hand: “Secret service money for the +election; you need not give me any account of it, Mr. +Drewitt.” And Mr. Drewitt did not give her any account, +and when he found that his farming operations +required more capital he asked her ladyship to make +him a further advance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He and Colonel Vervensoe had never healed up +their old wound. So they passed each other when they +met without speaking, and Maxwell was never by any +<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>chance now asked up to Cragantlet, even in the hunting +season.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But yet the servants at Cragantlet knew that Mr. +Drewitt of “The Headlands,” as he was beginning to +call his new property, occasionally rode up to the house +when Colonel Vervensoe was from home; and a man +who was in the habit of attending Lady Emmeline +when she drove in her phaeton, or rode out on horse-back, +could have told tales of many a meeting, not accidental, +between the pair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was nothing wrong in the affair; there was +no breaking of the seventh commandment, nor idea of +breaking it; but still Lady Emmeline liked Maxwell +so much, and Maxwell found her ladyship so extremely +useful, that neither thought of discontinuing the acquaintance +altogether.</p> + +<p class='c013'>To be strictly truthful, however, the young man +had thought at one time of persuading her ladyship to +go off with him—not because being his neighbour’s +wife made her seem any nicer in his eyes, but simply +because her husband had insulted him, and she had a +large fortune.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I am afraid, seeing Lady Emmeline was not over-prudent, +had Maxwell been sure the game was worth +the candle, that he would not have proved over-scrupulous +in the matter; but as it was, Maxwell had a long +head, and a clear head, and he reflected that, if he ran +away with Colonel Vervensoe’s wife, that gallant officer +would either shoot him or ruin him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Her ladyship, at a certain price, might not be +dear; but her ladyship, with a bullet in some part of +his body, or with heavy damages from the Ecclesiastical +Courts, was quite another matter.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>Mr. Maxwell Drewitt thought that game not worth +the candle, and so abandoned it, and accordingly Lady +Emmeline Vervensoe’s character was as safe in his +keeping as though she had been as ugly as one of the +witches in Macbeth or as repulsive as Sycorax.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nevertheless, it was her money that ploughed his +fields, paid his labourers, bought his seed; and, to do +Maxwell Drewitt justice, no money was ever more +judiciously laid out.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was prudent, he was economical, he did not +encroach on her kindness; he knew when to hold back +his hand and say “enough.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He required money and she lent it to him—gave +it to him, she said but Maxwell preferred the other +way of putting it. Once he had got the start, however, +he worked manfully to keep it: he wanted to +show Lady Emmeline, and to convince himself, out of +what small beginnings even an Irishman may make a +fortune; and so he laboured on, bringing first one piece +of land and then another under cultivation, till people +finally began to talk of Maxwell Drewitt as a wonder, +and to marvel how he did it; while pretty Jenny +Bourke thought within herself, “He will soon be rich +enough to ask Timothy for me now;” but she never +ventured to say this to him again, although she still +stole out to meet him, either by the stream, or on the +shore, or up in the mountain gorge that lay at the +back of Inchnagawn Cottage.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is a mighty nice walk on a summer’s evening,” +remarked Mr. Murphy, pointing up this gorge, as +he and Mr. Ryan stood looking inland one fine morning in June.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is it?” said the attorney, carelessly.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>“I like to listen to your innocent talk,” replied +Mr. Murphy. “‘Is it?’ he says, just as simple as a +lamb.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, is it?” repeated Mr. Ryan. “How should +I know anything about the place; I never was up the +stream in my life!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Never were out with any young woman either, I +suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not been this many a year, at any rate,” +returned the other. “The only girl I ever was to say +sweet on was not sweet on me; and somehow I never +fancied another since.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, it is mighty queer,” remarked Mr. Murphy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What is queer?” asked his friend.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why, the lies men will tell when women and +money are concerned. It was no later ago than last +night that I followed a pair of lovers from the top of +the gorge down to that big rock; you see it there, +don’t you?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes. You followed them; what then?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why then, Mr. Timothy Ryan, as I did not want +to be seen, I stopped behind that lump of granite and +watched; and I saw them in the darkness come down, +down, down. The young woman wore a light dress; +and I am positive that dress, at any rate, went round +your haystacks and in by the back gate.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You did not think it was me, Murphy?” said +Ryan; but his voice sounded hoarse as he asked the +question.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You in the light dress? in course not; but if the +man wasn’t you, who was he?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are sure you had not been drinking?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’ll swear it for you, if you like.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>“And you are certain you were not mistaken?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sure and certain.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The man was not as tall as I am?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He might not have been.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Was he anything like Maxwell Drewitt?” inquired +Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They could have passed for twins,” replied Mr. +Murphy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s enough, Murphy, thank you,” said Ryan, +and he drew a long, deep breath. “It’s warm to-day,” +he observed, lifting his hat off his head, and letting +the light wind fan his temples. “I must be getting +towards Duranmore now,” he added abruptly; “are +you going to walk that way?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I can walk any way,” was the reply. “Trade is +mighty dull just now. There has not been a child +born this week, I think; and only one accident, and +he was carried home dead as a doornail. It’s a cursed +place at the best of times,” proceeded Mr. Murphy; +“but the like of it this June nobody would credit. I +have made up all our calomel into pills and powders, +just for want of something to do; and I have been +trying how much nux vomica I could take without +bringing on tetanus, for the sake of whiling away the +time. I don’t think there is another such hole in the +entire of Great Britain or Ireland. Whenever my +mother dies, and she can’t last long, poor old girl, I +shall cut Ireland altogether, and make for London. +That’s the place, my boy—that’s the chance for men +like me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Mr. Murphy rattled on after this fashion all +the way to Duranmore, leaving it quite optional with +his companion whether he answered him or not.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>Ryan elected not to answer him, and not to speak +till they were shaking hands at the door of his office +in the High Street; then he said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They did not see you, did they?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Does a corpse see the sexton when he is shovelling +the mould in on the top of him, do you think?” +asked Mr. Murphy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And with that they parted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For many a night afterwards Mr. Ryan kept watch; +many a time he pretended to go away from home, and +kept guard in the gorge, in the twilight, in the starlight, +in the moonlight—all in vain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He would not speak to his sister nor to Maxwell. +He bided his time, and he waited without result until +one evening when he was returning, a day sooner than +he had expected to be back, from an outlying portion +of Mr. Waller’s property, among the wildest part of +the Joyce country.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There he had bought a new horse, a young, handsome +creature, bay with black legs, leaving in exchange +his old white mare and a not unreasonable +number of pound-notes.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was proud of his new purchase: it had a long +easy trot, and had brought him by bridlepaths up +hilly roads, through lonely valleys, thirty Irish miles +without turning a hair; and he was so careful of this +good steed that he stopped at the top of the hill above +Eversbeg in order to lead him down the steep descent.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With his arm passed through the bridle and his +hand on the horse’s glossy neck, Mr. Ryan paused at +a turn of the road, and looked at the view spread out +before him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nestling at the foot of the hill, huddled up among +<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>its woods, stood Eversbeg, and nearer to him still were +the ruins of Eversbeg Abbey. He could see the +pointed windows half concealed by ivy; he could see +the grave-stones and the crosses and the monuments; +he could see away over Eversbeg Bay, out to the +great Atlantic; and he could discern, like a speck in +the distance, Maxwell Drewitt’s cottage lying away +near Eversbeg Head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a great hush and calm over everything—over +the sea and the land, the mountains and the +valleys—and Ryan could not help feeling subdued +by that virtue of stillness, by that calm which seems +oftentimes to follow the sun’s setting, as though nature +were lying quiet ere falling to sleep for the night.</p> + +<p class='c013'>After this pause he went on, descending the hill +by a winding road, which soon shut out from his view +Eversbeg and the Abbey and the Atlantic, but brought +him at a sharp turn within sight of Kincorth and +Duranmore and Duranmore Bay, which was more like +a lake than like an arm of the sea, and his own white +cottage close to the shore, where Jenny would not be +expecting his return.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As he thought of this, Ryan pulled up short. He +had twisted his hand in his horse’s mane, he had lifted +his left foot half way up to the stirrup, but on the instant +he unwound his fingers from among the coarse +black hair, and stood beside his steed, while the animal +lifted up its head and looked out over the bay, too, as +though he had been a Christian.</p> + +<p class='c013'>While he stood irresolute, Ryan saw a man leave +the shore road, and, after looking round, follow the +course of the stream I have spoken of as flowing at +the back of Inchnagawn Cottage.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>It was Maxwell Drewitt. Though it was getting +dusk, though there was a considerable distance between +them, still Mr. Ryan recognized the man he had +been waiting for.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When there are not a dozen gentlemen within a +circuit of twenty miles it is not easy to mistake the +identity of any of them, and Ryan felt that he was not +deceived—Maxwell Drewitt was going up the stream +to meet Jenny, and he might catch them yet; and he +would catch them, “he would, by——.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He flung the reins to a lad who stood at a cabin-door +by the wayside, and bidding him take care of the +horse, Ryan left the main road and dashed down what +remained of the hill, across bog and river, among +brambles and heather, home. He had his riding-whip +in his hand, and involuntarily he shortened his hold of +it as he drew nearer—nearer still.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Every now and then he stopped, for there was a +noise in his ears like the raging of distant waters. It +was his passion—it was the tumult in his breast +which sounded to him as the roar of the sea.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He came on—on; he gained the high road; he +stole round by the back of his own house; and there, +by the stream, were the pair still talking.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Timothy!” shrieked Jenny—and she had reason: +in a moment he held Maxwell by the collar, and +showered down blows upon him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Villain! scoundrel! coward!” he said, and he +literally ground his teeth with rage.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hands off, fool!” shouted Maxwell, and he clasped +his own round Ryan’s throat.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was an awful struggle for a moment, but +then Maxwell tripped his opponent up, and putting his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>knee on his chest, tore the whip out of his grasp, and +sent it flying among the weeds and rashes that grew +on the other side the stream.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who is villain, scoundrel, coward now?” he +asked, with a sneer; with his face black with rage, +with the veins in his forehead swelled, with the devil +that was in him looking out of his eyes. “Who is a +spy and a listener? I won’t thrash you, because you +are her brother; I won’t shoot you, because you are +not worth the trouble; but I’ll leave you to think what +you have made by this move;” and Maxwell released +his adversary, picked up his hat, which had fallen to +the ground, and saying to Miss Bourke, “I will see +you another time, Jenny,” was about to walk off, when +Ryan called out, “Stop!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You shall never see her to speak to again. Only +let me catch you near the house—only let me hear +of Jenny ever looking to the side of the street where +you walk, and I will shoot you like a dog.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have you finished?” asked Maxwell; “because in +that case I may wish you good-morning.” And he +lifted his hat to Jenny, whose face was as white as +the cottage walls, and was gone.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Within a week Ryan took a house in Duranmore +next door to his office, and moved his furniture and +himself and his sister away from the pretty cottage by +the shore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But the waves came rolling up the bay for all +that: though there was no human ear to listen to their +music, they still rippled over the stones and sand—the +shutters of the cottage-windows were closed and +fastened, but the fuchsias bloomed the same as ever—no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>Jenny now stood by the stream, singing her love +songs, dreaming her love fantasies, but the stream went +dancing over the stones to the sea none the less joyously—there +were none to look up at the everlasting +hills, but the summer’s sun shone on them, and the +winter’s snows lay on them, as the sun had shone and +the snow had lain since the beginning of time.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII.<br> <span class='c011'>Son and Heir.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Meanwhile there had been changes at Kincorth, +such changes as the birth of a son and the management +of a careful and educated woman were likely to +produce; but the greatest change of all had perhaps +been that wrought in Mrs. Drewitt herself, who, looking +back twelve months, could not help marvelling if +the Agnes Drewitt who sat nursing her child in her +bedroom at Kincorth were the same with the new-made +wife who had wept bitter tears in that self-same +chamber, who had grieved over Maxwell, who had +wanted to keep him in the house at any sacrifice, at +any cost.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Since those early days, Mrs. Drewitt had grown +very jealous for her son’s inheritance, very watchful +over the interests of her baby. Maxwell had opened +her eyes and taught her to discern between good and +evil; and with all a woman’s quickness of perception +she had seen that there would be war between her +children and the children of the elder brother; that +Maxwell wanted the estate, and was resolved some day +to have it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But he shan’t, darling, shall he?” and Mrs. +Drewitt kissed every one of her son’s toes in succession +as though he had been a pope.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There is no accounting for tastes, or otherwise one +might wonder at the fancy mothers have for this form +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>of refreshment. Pink and plump and pretty the creature’s +toes looked peeping from under the long white +robe, but there was no earthly reason why she should +have kissed them for all that.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She did perform the ceremony, nevertheless, +rapturously, and then she lifted her eyes and looked +out over the waving woods and the sunny fields that +went sloping towards the sea.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a fair property. I have said what Maxwell +thought of it as he stood gazing up at Kincorth on the +summer’s afternoon when you, dear reader, were introduced +to him, and it was perhaps natural that Mrs. +Drewitt longed a little greedily to secure it for her +boy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Women nursing babies are all alike. They think +nothing good enough for the new king, and they expect +every created being to fall down and adore the +autocrat as they do.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Women whose children are growing up get, as a +rule, more sensible and fairer dealing year by year. +They see their white crows throwing out black feathers, +they begin to understand that other people have +children too, and that the meadow-lands of existence +cannot be kept clear so that their young lambs may +browse over them undisturbed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But a baby!—there is so much left to the imagination +about a baby. It may grow up to be as +handsome as Apollo, as wise as Solomon, as eloquent +as Demosthenes, as just as Aristides, as holy as George +Herbert.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is so delightful to be able to sit in the sunlight, +as Mrs. Drewitt was doing, nursing a two months’ old +monarch, and picture for him a reign long, glorious, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>and triumphant. If mothers did not mercifully forget +these dreams, how could they ever live and face the +downfall of all these airy castles? How could they +bear to see their sons and daughters grow up, not as +the polished corners of the temple, but sometimes no +better than other folks’ sons and daughters—oftentimes +much worse?</p> + +<p class='c013'>A baby!—a monarch, a pope, a little god, a lord +mayor for a year and a day, and then another lord +mayor rides in gilded coach to fortune, and inhabits +his brother’s grand chateaux en Espagne.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The king is dead, long live the king! and autocrat +No. 2, No. 3, No. 4, as the case may be, appears on +the daïs for the household generally to bow down before +and worship.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A baby!—well, well, Maxwell Drewitt had been +a baby once, and perhaps his mother dreamed such +dreams for him as Mrs. Drewitt of Kincorth was doing +for her baby now.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There are some things in nature which we shall +never understand on this side eternity, and one of +them, I think, is, why having a child born to her +should make a woman unjust for the time being.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I know there will be an outcry of indignation at +this assertion; but it is true for all that. Beyond her +baby, a woman has at first no sympathy. Nay, I go +further, and say she has no liking save for those who +serve, honour, and obey her Moloch.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There are men who are worse than women in this +matter, but not many, thank God! If there were, the +shop of the world might be shut up, and human nature +would have to retire from business altogether.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Her baby!—there came a day when Mrs. Drewitt +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>turned from her first allegiance and worshipped another +baby. All her life long she was somewhat of an +idolater, and her gods did nothing for her, as is the +way with the gods we rear for ourselves—only +brought trouble and sorrow to that gentle breast.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But sitting in the sunshine, kissing the fat toes of +her first-born, Mrs. Drewitt was happy, and she was +all the happier perhaps because she felt no sorrow for +the man whom the birth of her son cut out from Kincorth +for ever.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If we exhaust the matter, the young mother thought +in her heart it ought to be a pleasure for Maxwell to +stand out of the way of the new king’s progress; and +as she felt sure it was no pleasure to him to do anything +of the kind, she began to entertain a very sincere +dislike for her husband’s nephew.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Holding her baby from her at arms’ length—laughing +when it laughed, clasping it to her heart, +touching its little fingers, its little hands, its meaningless +face, with a delight ever strange and ever new—something +even in that happy moment came over Mrs. +Drewitt that made the tears start into her eyes, and +caused her face to change and sadden under the sunlight.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She was sorry that she did not feel sorry for Maxwell, +that she did not like him, that she was not so +glad to see him as formerly, that she could not care +for Susan and Wilhelmina. She had resolved to do +her duty, and this was the end of it. Human nature +is stronger than duty, and it was impossible for Mrs. +Drewitt to help her feelings. The child she had +brought into this world was nearer to her than any +other person’s children could be.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>It was natural she should long to secure Kincorth +for the baby—that she should dislike any one who +seemed to stand in antagonism to her son.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The child had changed her, and it was the consciousness +of this change having taken place that made +Mrs. Drewitt’s eyes fill full of tears.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As for Mr. Drewitt, he had received the new arrival +just as such a man usually does receive such donations—ecstatically!</p> + +<p class='c013'>To have heard him talk, any stranger might have +thought that Mr. Drewitt only held the property in +trust until his son should come of age. If his bailiff +spoke to him about cutting down a tree, he hesitated. +He would grant no lease for more than seven years.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The expenses must be curtailed, the household +expenditure retrenched. His agent must see that the +rents were paid more punctually. When Brian came +of age it would not do for him to find the tenants all +in arrear. He trusted those girls would marry, or that +if they did not, Maxwell would have them to live +with him. “I must try to make him an allowance for +their maintenance till they all come of age, when I +can perhaps manage to settle a certain sum on each,” +said Mr. Drewitt to his wife. “I should not like Brian +to marry one of them, and if they grow up together +who knows what might happen?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Who indeed? but meantime the state of mind in +which Mr. Drewitt went about the house, and walked +round the shrubberies, and exchanged greetings with +his friends, and answered the congratulations of his +acquaintances, was involved and ridiculous beyond +description.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is a far cry to Loch Awe,” Maxwell observed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>drily, when Wilhelmina told him, with shrieks of +laughter, how her uncle was doing everything with an +eye to the pleasure and advancement of the young heir. +“What kind of a creature is it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What kind of creatures are all babies?” inquired +Miss Susan Drewitt, scornfully. “Though to be sure, +to hear the way they go on about it, anybody might +imagine it was not a baby at all, but an angel. Nannie +says it is like its papa, and the doctor says it is like +its mamma; but for my part, I think it is a cross between +a star-fish and a lobster.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You really ought to be in the house with uncle,” +remarked Wilhelmina. “He won’t let a window be +open for fear of the brat catching cold. He won’t let +any stranger touch it for fear the said stranger should +have any dreadful and communicable disease. He +was going to put Mr. Murphy out of the hall-door, the +other day, because the poor man said, after uncle had +quite worn him out, ‘Tut, tut, tut, Mr. Drewitt, the +egg is all very well, but it is not worth the cackling +you make over it.’ I really thought I would have +died, Maxwell. I had to put the whole of my pocket-handkerchief +into my mouth, or I should have laughed +outright.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Sir!’ says my uncle, and he drew himself up +like a grenadier.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘You need not be offended, Mr. Drewitt,’ says +Murphy. I do love that man, it is so hard to put him +out of countenance. ‘A hen with only one chicken +always makes ten times the fuss she would if she had +a good clutch to go about with; and by the time you +have a dozen, I’m thinking you won’t be caring so +much whether a few of them should catch some infection +<span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>or not. Excuse a jest, sir, it is only my way. +The baby is a fine baby. I don’t know that ever I +saw a handsomer.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And as he said that he looked over at me, and +you know, Maxwell, what his looks are.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He is an impudent scoundrel,” remarked her +brother. “If I hear of him looking at you at all, I +will wring his neck for him—and glad of the excuse +too,” added Maxwell, <i>sotto voce</i>.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You never saw a man make such an idiot of himself +in your life,” said Susan, laying a true Hibernian +emphasis on the last word in her sentence. “He ought +to build a little chapel and have a shrine made, and +let people only look at the brat from a distance. And +that reminds me, Maxwell—do you know Kathie has +never gone back to school yet? She is not well enough +to go, Sheen says, and my uncle wanted her to keep +away from the heir, seeming to think it might be +something of consumption, and that the young gentleman +would take it from her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And Kathie cried, till I told her she was a greater +idiot than uncle and a bigger baby than the heir,” put +in Wilhelmina. “Mrs. Drewitt would not listen to such +nonsense, though; she said Kathie should be with her +and Brian if she liked. That is one thing I will say +for Mrs. Drewitt—that she is good to Kathie. Give +the devil his due, her own mother could not be better +to her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But do you think Kathie ill, seriously ill, I +mean?” asked Maxwell: if the young man had ever +loved any of his own flesh and blood, it was Kathie, +and he put the question anxiously.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, you know she never was strong—she was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>always, as Nannie says, the ‘crowl’ among us,” answered +Wilhelmina, who looked both strong and handsome, +and had a rich colour in her cheeks with walking +to Headlands Cottage; “she ought not to have gone to +school, and it was not with Mrs. Drewitt’s good will +she went, but you and uncle would have it. You know +it was your doing, Maxwell, and she got a cold, and +the cold got worse, and you should see for yourself +how she looks.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What are they doing for her?” he inquired.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Dr. Sheen has sent her some medicine, and Mrs. +Drewitt tries to coax her to eat,” Wilhelmina replied; +while Susan added—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think they have an idea of sending her abroad. +I am sure I heard some one talk of letting her spend +the winter with the Dyaks, if money for her travelling +expenses could be raised.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then Maxwell Drewitt rose up, walked across the +room, took a cigar out of a paper lying on the table, +lit it, and began to smoke. When he had puffed away +for a little time he said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Kathie shall not go to the Dyaks. I won’t have +my sister eating the bread of a dependent in the house +of any of Mr. Drewitt’s relations. If she needs a +milder climate I will find somebody to take charge of +her, and I will find the money too, which the great +people up at Kincorth seem to think a thing so devilishly +hard to raise.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That’s right, Maxwell. Go it,” exclaimed Wilhelmina, +clapping her hands. “Send us all abroad, +and come yourself—we’d make our fortunes at <i>rouge-et-noir</i>. +Wouldn’t it be capital sport?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>“You seem to think so, at any rate,” remarked +Susan, shortly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And you—ten thousand pardons. I forgot. +You would not like to leave——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whom?” asked Maxwell, as his sister stopped +abruptly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The baby, I suppose,” laughed Wilhelmina; +whereupon Maxwell made some remark about the baby +which did not sound like a blessing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the deuce is their fancy for calling the +young beggar Brian?” he inquired. “Is it Brian +Boroïhme they have gone back to, or is it some of +her people, or what?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There was a good Drewitt once,” answered Wilhelmina; +“at least, so tradition says, though I believe +there is not a syllable of truth in the story. There +was a good Drewitt once—good and wise, and his +name was Brian. There is a long rigmarole about +him on some old stone in the abbey, and Nannie told +Mrs. Drewitt a great history about what grand people +the Drewitts were in his day, and about what a pious +man he was, and how he repaired the abbey, and how +he planted that huge yew-tree in the churchyard, and +that hollow ash, and that rotten beech on the lawn at +Kincorth. And Nannie told her, too, how a child +always strains after the person it is called after, and +how luck follows names, and worked her up to such a +pitch finally, that nothing would do her but the young +gentleman must be called Brian—and accordingly +Brian he is—Brian Archibald. It is not an easy +name to make fun out of; so all I can do is to call +him Brin Baldy. It’s a pretty conceit, is not it? as +Lady Emmeline would say, and it has the great advantage +<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>of being unintelligible. I have ventured to +talk about Brin Baldy to Susan before uncle, and he +had not the remotest idea of whom I was talking.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I shall come up to see Kathie,” said Maxwell, +when his sister stopped—a little irrelevantly it is +true, but still in consequence of some train of thought +he had been pursuing during her sentence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am sure <i>we</i> ought to be grateful,” remarked +Susan. “Get up and make a courtesy, Willy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Which Willy accordingly did, observing, at the same +time, she thought somebody ought to come and see +Kathie, and rouse her up.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Talk about peaches! You should have seen the +peaches the Countess gave me the other day to take +home to Kathie,” she went on; “they were as big—oh! +as big as Susan’s head—four times as big as any +I ever saw grow at Kincorth, and do you think she +would touch them?—not a bit of it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘You little ungrateful wretch!’ I said, ‘and I have +brought them all the way from Laddenwell home for +you, and it was as much as I could do to keep from +eating them on the road. You <i>shall</i> take them!’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So she took one, and tried to swallow it, but she +did not like peaches, she told me.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Will you have grapes, then?’ I asked her, but +she would not have grapes. At last I worried out of +her what she could eat, and what do you think it was, +Maxwell? I will give you six guesses.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t be childish, Willy; go on.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Crabs!” exclaimed that young lady. “Now you +know crabs are things uncle can’t bear the sight of, +and that he thinks nobody else ought to be able to +bear the sight of either; so I had to get one smuggled +<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>up for her. But when it came, would she touch it? +I don’t know what to do with Kathie,” finished Wilhelmina, +in despair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She ought to take a good canter every day of +her life,” said Susan, “and keep out of the nursery. +There is nothing the matter with Kathie except the +mopes.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you know what your mother died of, Susan?” +asked Maxwell, a little sternly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She died when Kathie was born. I suppose it +was of that,” answered Miss Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She would not have died of that if she had not +been in a decline beforehand,” said Maxwell; “and +from what you say, I’m afraid it is consumption Kathie +has got. I will come up and see her,” he repeated. +“I will walk back with you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>When Maxwell passed through Duranmore, on his +way from Kincorth to Eversbeg, he stopped at Dr. +Sheen’s, and not finding that gentleman at home, spoke +to Mr. Murphy about his sister’s health.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Had not you better step round when the doctor +is within?” asked the assistant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have got something else to do than dance up +and down from Eversbeg here, after him or anybody +else,” answered Maxwell, with that graciousness of +manner which distinguished his treatment of any one +he considered beneath him in station.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is not my place to talk about Doctor Sheen’s +patients,” persisted Mr. Murphy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the devil is the use of your getting on in +this way to me? She is my sister, and I must know, +and I will know, what is the matter with her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And how should I know what is the matter with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>her?” demanded the other. “Sure we never know for +certain what is wrong with man, woman, or child, unless +we open them, and I suppose you don’t want me +to do that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will you tell me, as far as you do know, what +ails my sister, or not? If you do not choose to do so, +I must take her to somebody who will.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would rather you would ask Dr. Sheen. I am +only his assistant, and I have not had his experience; +and to be plain, the doctor and I don’t agree about +the case. Ask him; or if you like, I will tell him to +write to you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I want your opinion,” persisted Maxwell. “All +you say I shall consider as spoken to me confidentially, +if you wish, only tell me exactly what you think is +wrong with Kathleen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do believe you are fond of her,” said Mr. Murphy, +with a vague wonder in his voice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What the deuce is it to you whether I am or not? +Tell me your opinion, without beating about the bush +any longer.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you want me to tell you the truth or a +lie?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I want the truth, whatever the truth may be,” +was the answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because,” went on Mr. Murphy, “there’s many a +one says he wants to hear the truth, and then is angry +at the man who tells it to him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whatever you think, out with it,” exclaimed +Maxwell, impatiently.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Your sister is very far from strong.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I can see that without the help of any doctor’s +eyes,” answered the young man; “but is she likely +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>to get worse? Will the medicine she is taking cure +her?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Doctor Sheen thinks it will,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But what do you think, Mr. Murphy?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I consider Miss Kathie to be in a very bad way,” +said the assistant.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will it be life or death?” asked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t ask me. What is the use of it? Sure you +know yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a minute there was silence—for a minute +the thought of the only enemy that in youth a man +like Maxwell Drewitt is afraid to face cowed him. +Then he said:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Would a warmer climate, Mr. Murphy——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Save her, I suppose you mean. You can try it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Slowly and reluctantly, Maxwell turned to go.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“One thing more, Mr. Murphy,” he said. “Was +the cold she caught at school the cause of this?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If she had not caught a cold there she would +have caught it some place else,” was the answer. “You +can’t keep a person shut up in a band-box for ever; +and the fire was always ready laid in her, to be kindled +some chilly winter’s morning. But people invariably +like to attribute disease to accident: they think if they +could guard themselves against that they would be immortal,” +added Mr. Murphy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell went out into the air. He walked home +round by Eversbeg Head, from whence he had a view +over the wide Atlantic, looking under the summer’s +sky like a glassy lake. He saw the ships going past +with their white sails shining and glistening in the +sun; he beheld the ocean at peace with man—the +land kissed softly and gently by the waves; he saw +<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>his own fields looking rich and cultivated, in the warm +glow of the afternoon light;—but there was a sorrow +in his heart, the memory of which the peaceful scene +could not chase away.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Many a feeling which passes through our breasts +to-day we forget to-morrow; we fear, and with a new +sunrise the dread is gone. We settle down to think: +something comes to prevent our doing so, and the impression +made, fades away and is forgotten.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Could Maxwell Drewitt have stereotyped in his +memory all the feelings which saddened him when he +stood, that day, looking out over the great Atlantic, I +think—I believe—he would have gone through the +rest of his life a better man.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But as it was, they were merely as words spoken +to the air—as letters traced on the sand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The next wind of passion bore them far beyond +his reach and his recollection; the next wave of life, +rushing up on the shore of his existence, obliterated +their meaning.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Life and death, friends—life and death!—are +these two not ever walking through this world hand in +hand together?</p> + +<p class='c013'>The tide that brings a fresh soul into existence +on its flow, bears a pale corpse out to the great sea as +it ebbs.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a child born—there was a girl dying: +there was a son and heir, over whose birth exulting +parents rejoiced—there was an orphan waiting to +rejoin her father and mother also.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was life in the boy, who crowed and shrieked +in the nursery: there was death in Kathleen, who walked +about the grounds and through the rooms at Kincorth—who +<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>had learned her last lessons, who was never to +go back to school any more—who was never to have +lovers, never to be married—never to be anything +except a slight, dark-eyed, loveable, delicate girl—who +cooed and fondled the baby as long as she had +strength to do it, and who delighted in the newcomer, +even although he did cut Maxwell out from +the property.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And Maxwell was always kinder to me than he +was to anybody,” sighed Kathie to Mrs. Drewitt; “I +wish he was out of that cottage—I wish he was back +at Kincorth!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But when her wish was fulfilled, when Maxwell did +return to Kincorth, I think it was best for Kathleen +that she could not see him there—that she had then +been sleeping for twenty years in Eversbeg Abbey, +away from all the sinful jealousies and wicked passions +which make the world so often seem only like +a battle-field, where man stands up to war against +man.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIII.<br> <span class='c011'>Maxwell’s Improvements.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Three years passed away—slowly enough, for in +a place like Duranmore time’s flight is never very +rapid; and during the course of those three years the +novelty of having a son had worn off, and Mr. Drewitt +cut down trees, and renewed leases, and took fines, +and raised money without the slightest reference to his +heir’s interests. In the house matters were better +managed; out-of-doors, worse. Every day the property +was going more surely to the dogs; every day money +seemed more difficult to be had, more impossible to be +kept.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When Brian lay in his cradle, Mr. Drewitt proposed +building a house on the farm he had settled on his +wife before her marriage. “It will increase the value +of the place,” he said; “and if I live till Brian grow +up and marry, he can reside there and be independent +of us altogether; while, on the other hand, should you, +dearest, ever have to leave Kincorth, it would be a +home for you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>All in vain Mrs. Drewitt remonstrated. All in vain +she entreated him to wait, observing that it would +surely be time enough to build a house for Brian’s +wife when Brian was put into jacket and trousers. She +pointed out that money was not very plentiful; that +workmen would have to be paid; that somebody must +live in the house if it were finished; and that it would +be a continual expense and worry.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>Mr. Drewitt overbore all her objections. He insisted +that the thing, being proper to be done, should +be done at once; that a dower-house ought immediately +to be erected; that the expense would be nothing, the +advantages incalculable; and straightway he had granite +quarried and drawn to the farm, chose a site, set labourers +to dig at the foundations, and neglected every +other concern of his life in order to ride over each day +and see how the work progressed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Where are you drawing those stones to?” Maxwell +asked one of his uncle’s men who was driving a +cart and horse across the hills.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To Analore, yer honour,” was the answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What for?” pursued the young man.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To build a house for Masther Brian. The masther +is greatly taken on with the notion entirely.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Fools build houses,” thought Maxwell, “and, my +God, what a fool he is!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Twelve months afterwards Maxwell rode over to +Analore, and tying his horse to a gate walked leisurely +up the hill to see how Brian’s castle was getting on. +Analore lay inland; it was, as Lady Ebbutt had said, a +mountain: the farm was nothing more than a sheep-run. +Nature had not made it a garden, and Art had left +Nature’s handiwork alone. Over the short grass Maxwell +picked his way: there were boulders, there were +brambles, there was bog, there was morass—Maxwell +rounded them all, still keeping up the hill to the site +Mr. Drewitt had chosen.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a winter’s morning, bright, clear, and bracing; +but there was nothing of elasticity in Maxwell’s +step—nothing youthful about his movements.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Every now and then he stopped and looked about +<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>him; not that the place was unfamiliar, for the young +man knew every rood of his uncle’s property much +better than his uncle did himself. He was scrutinising +the land professionally; he surveyed it as a jockey +might a horse. He was contrasting it with Headlands, +and thinking he had made a mistake in choosing a +farm by the sea. He dug up the turf with the heel of +his shoe, and taking a piece of the earth in his hand +examined it minutely.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Curse him!” said Mr. Maxwell Drewitt as he threw +the mould away, “this soil is better than mine,” and +he pursued his walk up the hill, thinking while he +walked, till he reached the place where Mr. Drewitt +had thought to build his house.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a lovely site. “A property in such a situation, +within twenty miles of London, would be worth +a king’s ransom; the view alone would be a fortune,” +thought Maxwell, while he looked over lake and valley, +over gorge and mountain, and then he laughed, to see +nothing but the foundations built up, no sign of bricklayer +or labourer at hand. There were cartloads of +granite on the ground; there were heaps of sand and +marks of where mortar had been mixed; there was the +earth that they dug out of the foundations wheeled +away on one side, and in this state the edifice was +left.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If he had given this to me instead of settling it +on her; if he had said, ‘Maxwell, you have been hardly +done by, and it is not much I can give you, but there +is Analore, take it, for you and your heirs for ever;’ +if he had made it over by any binding legal document +and helped me to raise a thousand pounds upon it, or +lent me a thousand himself, as he might readily have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>done, I should not have cared to call the king my +cousin,” were the thoughts that chased one another +through Maxwell Drewitt’s mind. “I could have built +a house of those boulders; I could have drained this +land; I could have grown potatoes here till the ground +was fit for oats; I could have made a fortune out of +the place, and so might he, if he were not what he is—a +purposeless idiot, a thickheaded ass.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>All the world over, the man who has got hold of a +new idea abuses the man who sticks to the old: in Ireland, +as in England, the man of business hates the man +of pleasure; the worker detests the idler.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Drewitt might be a fool, an ass, an idiot; in +some things, indeed, I am afraid he was all three; but +had Maxwell been born to a great estate, he would +scarcely have seen his uncle’s shortcomings so clearly; +he would not have looked so closely after soils himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Give a property to a man whose eyes have once +been opened and he can see clearly enough how to +improve it; but till necessity has sharpened their inventions, +I think few people notice everything which +is lying within their ken. It was his uncle’s marriage +that sharpened Maxwell Drewitt, that enabled him to +see exactly to what extent the rent-roll of Kincorth +might be increased.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If it were clear to-morrow it would be worth +fifteen thousand a year; increase those mortgages, and +I could make it worth forty thousand a year.” This +was Maxwell’s calculation as he sat on a great stone, +looking over the lake, and the valley, and the distant +mountains. “I must try to get some land in this +neighbourhood, and so make the most of my rights of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>sea-weed,” was the practical conclusion he arrived at +ere he left Analore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A man like this deserved to succeed,” I hear some +say at this juncture; and my answer is, “He did succeed—he +did lay house to house and acre to acre.” +He gained all that he set out determined to achieve, +and if he did not secure the great prize, towards which +all human efforts aim—happiness—it was only because, +thinking he should find it in wealth and position, +in lands, in smiling fields, in verdant pastures, he strove +to become the owner of these good things, and of these +only.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Knowing what need Ireland has of such men, fresh +from the sight of her wretched poverty, her miserable +management, her forlorn condition, I could almost wish +I had chosen a different hero, and taken a better man +to show what energy and perseverance may do for an +individual as well as for a people.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There are such in Connemara; there are little oases, +formed by their industry and talent, in the wilderness; +there are gardens in the desert; there are resting-places +where the tired mind and the weary heart may sit down +and take refreshment, seeing what even one man has +been able to effect. Kincorth is one of these; but the +mind that saw what Kincorth might be made has long +ceased to fret itself with schemes, to vex itself over +disappointment; while the man who owns Kincorth now +is grave beyond all mortal comprehension.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Let me go on with my story, friends, for I must +not write of the end yet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All the plans of Mr. Drewitt’s life came to nothing, +like the dower-house at Analore. All the good he purposed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>died in the birth, all the reforms he intended +were never carried out.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The road to ruin was the one he voluntarily chose +in youth, and he always lacked strength of mind +enough to turn back at any stage of his journey and +try to make for fortune.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a time Mrs. Drewitt endeavoured to mend +matters, urging him to look his affairs boldly in the +face, and not to allow them to get more and more involved; +but before she had been married two years +she, too, learned that speaking was useless, and contented +herself with entreating that he would not mortgage +the house and demesne of Kincorth; that he would +endure any inconvenience, practise any economy, rather +than jeopardize <i>the</i> inheritance of their son.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Drewitt promised, and then broke his promise, +comforting himself exceedingly the while by thinking +that his wife need never know he had done so.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mortgaging in one class is very like pawning in +another. Money is wanted, and a few thousands can +easily enough be raised. Money is needed, and it is +only a step to the three balls.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But in either case it is the repayment that proves +difficult, and with Mr. Drewitt repayment was simply +impossible. Still on—on—along the road to ruin he +pursued his way, riding his hacks, keeping his hunters, +making guests welcome, running into debt recklessly +as he travelled.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was plenty of good company taking the +same journey with the owner of Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His was no isolated case—no exception to a general +rule—only perhaps there were few who, while +beggaring themselves, made so little show of wealth as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>he—few who seemed to do so small an amount of +good, either to their families or to their friends, as +this weak, amiable, purposeless, loveable Archibald +Drewitt, who put down his misfortunes to every cause +save the real one, who shifted the blame to any man’s +shoulders rather than carry it himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Much as she loved her husband, Mrs. Drewitt could +not be blind to his shortcomings; she could not avoid +seeing that different management might have produced +different results.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She heard how well Maxwell was doing, and asked +his uncle whether he could not reclaim some portion +of his own land likewise.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I had started unencumbered as he has done,” +replied Mr. Drewitt, with a sigh, “things might have +been very different; but I have been in debt from the +first. I had a heavy establishment to keep up. I had +those children to maintain.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And the owner of Kincorth spoke in a tone of such +sincere self-pity that Mrs. Drewitt had no courage left +to remind him of the fact of his having started with +eight thousand a-year clear, spite of the mortgages. +She held her peace, and Mr. Drewitt still continued +traversing the road that for him could have but one +end.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Three years passed away. Kathie was dead, Susan +had eloped, Wilhelmina rode as fast, as far, and as +fearlessly as ever. There was another child at Kincorth—a +daughter named after its paternal grandmother, +Geraldine. There was a third infant coming, +and Mrs. Drewitt’s face was beginning already to tell +tales of sorrow and anxiety. Poor lady! four years of +married life, of an irregular household, of a dissatisfied +<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>family, of regret, of sickness, of struggle, had rubbed +some of the beauty of youth off her countenance, had +altered and saddened her expression.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had mourned for Kathleen, she had wept over +the girl in the watches of the night; she had kept her +with her so long as human love and human care could +avail; and when at length Kathleen floated out from +the river to the sea, Mrs. Drewitt watched her as she +drifted towards the great ocean with eyes dimmed by +crying, with a heart bowed down by grief.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Though she had her baby, though she did now +own that great and powerful king, still she missed the +friendship and the companionship of the girl who had +taken to her so kindly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had never feared to talk to Kathie about her +perplexities, her difficulties, and now she knew that +through the years to come she must live entirely without +sympathy, and without assistance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If anything had been wanting to fill her cup of +sorrow at that time, a remark of Maxwell’s, which +through the officiousness of an acquaintance came to her +ears, would have caused it to overflow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He said what he knew to be false, that if Kathie +had been properly attended to when she first returned +from school, she need not then be lying in Eversbeg +Abbey.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was not true; and Mrs. Drewitt herself chanced +to be aware that no care or attention could have saved +Kathie at any stage of her disease; but the blow went +home for all that.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She reproached herself; she thought she had not +noticed Kathie’s malady so soon as she might; she remembered +that she had mistaken the flush on her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>cheeks for strength—the brightness of her eyes for +health.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She knew she had been taken up with herself and +the baby; for a time she remembered she felt so ill +that exertion of any kind was a trouble; and then she +was so happy about the birth of her son, that she did +not pay much attention to any one save the young +autocrat.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had put the boy first (this was what she +thought), and, being her own, she ought to have seen +to poor motherless Kathie, even before thinking of her +child. Heaven help her!—many a time that winter +the baby went a little to the wall, while the sick girl +was nursed and tended.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If Maxwell had exhausted all his ingenuity in trying +to make her wretched, he could not have succeeded +better.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had been selfish, she had been absorbed, and +it was wrong for her to be either, though nothing could +have saved Kathie, though no help of man could have +averted the decree of death.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She and Mr. Drewitt had both been foolish. She, +gentle soul, could see it all clearly enough when the +idol had been taken down from its pedestal, when its +father ceased to consider its future prospects every +moment in the day, when she found life had its duties, +though she was a mother—when she discovered that +even a baby may usurp too much attention, and lead +with its fat toes, with its plump legs, with its soft, +yielding body, with its clenched fists, with its meaningless +face, its unseasonable grief, and its maniacal merriment, +the wisest parent into temptation every day.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>Poor Kathie! Mrs. Drewitt mourned for her as no +one of her own flesh and blood sorrowed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell was busy with his schemes; Susan was +full of her lover; Willy thought the house dull, and +lived as much out of it as possible; Mr. Drewitt had +his own anxieties and troubles, and besides, he said +“he always expected Kathie to follow her mother.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mrs. Drewitt alone, did not forget the girl, but +thought of her when the winter snows were on the +ground, when the February rains deluged the earth, +when the spring flowers were blooming and the summer +splendour glorifying the hills. Nothing could be quieter +than Eversbeg Abbey, nothing more beautiful, more +peaceful, and Kathie always longed for peace and +quietness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was best so—it was best.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The birds built their nests in the ivy that grew +over the window beneath which the vault of the Drewitts +lay. They went twittering in and out, chirping +and singing all the day, from early morning till late +at night. The sheep came in over the broken wall, +and browsed at will among the graves, undisturbed by +resident or stranger. The ferns grew among the old +walls, and the grass was long and rank in the hollows +between the tombs. Nettles tall and luxuriant flourished +where the priest had once performed mass, where the +worshippers had once knelt before the altar.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was no roof to the Abbey, save the sky. +The once perfect arches of doors and windows were +falling to decay. The evening wind lightly stirred the +leaves of the ivy. In the stillness the ripple of the +waves upon the shore could be distinctly heard, and it +was in this quiet nook—quiet and neglected, desolate +<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>and beautiful—that Kathie, with her hands folded on +her breast, slept among her kindred, far beyond the +reach of sorrow or regret.</p> + +<p class='c013'>One trouble drives away the memory of another, +and Susan’s elopement proved even a greater trial to +Mrs. Drewitt then Kathie’s death. She knew where +the one was, but did not know what had become of +the other. She only felt that the evil she was unable +to avert had come at last. She had spoken to Susan, +to Maxwell, to Mr. Drewitt, and behold the end was +an empty room one morning, and a note from Miss +Drewitt, stating that as anything seemed preferable to +remaining at Kincorth, she had determined to cast her +lot with the only man who loved her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What lot has she chosen, Maxwell, what lot?” +asked poor Mrs. Drewitt, as with blanched face she +showed this note to her nephew, and entreated him to +trace his sister and bring her back.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Would she stay, do you think?” asked Maxwell. +“Could you or I, or anybody living, keep Susan here +if she made up her mind to go away? But I will follow +them to Dublin. I will see whether they are +married, and if not, he shall marry her.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But the fugitives were gone to England, and at +Liverpool Maxwell lost all traces of them. He could +not devote his life to running after his sister. He had +not the time, he had not the money, he had not the +inclination.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“As Susan had sown she must reap,” he remarked +to Mrs. Drewitt, and he went back to his farm by the +shore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>What more could be done for Susan was done by +Mrs. Drewitt, who wrote to her brother-in-law, Sir +<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>Everard Ebbutt, begging him to ascertain Captain +Ellenham’s antecedents, and to give her tidings of her +niece, if possible. Further, she asked him not to mention +the matter to his wife.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Sir Everard lost no time in replying to this letter. +To begin with, he stated that Captain Ellenham could +not have married Miss Drewitt, because he had at that +moment a wife and three children living in London. +Further, Captain Ellenham’s regiment having been +ordered abroad, it was more than probable Susan had +gone abroad with him. Should he obtain any further +information he would let her know.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is a blessing she has gone abroad. I hope she +will die there!” was Maxwell’s only remark when Mrs. +Drewitt communicated these particulars to him. “And +if ever I come across that fellow, I will shoot him. +Meantime it will be as well to say to every one that +they are married.” Having summed up the duty of +the family in which explicit sentence, Maxwell dropped +the subject, and never, of his own free will, mentioned +his sister afterwards.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was building a house at the time on the piece +of barren land that had come to him from his grandfather, +and he paid particular attention to the masons +during the whole of the summer following Kathie’s +death.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A bare staring place,” Mr. Drewitt told his wife, +“that it made him feel cold even to look at. What a +pity for him not to have chosen a better site! It is a +good house too;” and then he asked Maxwell why he +had not selected some finer position, somewhere on +the side of a hill, and where there was more of a +view.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>“Beggars cannot afford to be choosers,” answered +the younger man; “besides, wait a while, sir, and +you will not call my choice so bad a one. Further, +remember the land I am laying money out on now is +<i>my own</i>, and that I am not in a position to both build +and buy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But money can always be raised, you know,” +suggested Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Can it?” was the reply. “That is not my +opinion, and I hope you will never find reason to alter +yours.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>This little rap ended the conversation. It is not +easy to talk with a man who has always the last +word and the best word; and besides, it suddenly occurred +to Mr. Drewitt that the house at Analore was +not two feet above the ground, and that perhaps +Maxwell might inquire why he did not raise money to +finish it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He must be excessively clever, I think,” sighed +Mrs. Drewitt, when she heard in the following spring +how Maxwell was buying young trees from Waller of +Eversbeg, and planting them round his new abode.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They won’t live—they can’t live; it is impossible,” +said Mr. Drewitt, who, although he did not +exactly grudge Maxwell his success, still thought that +such innovations ought not to be encouraged by Providence. +“They cannot live; consider the sea-breeze—the +exposed situation.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Mrs. Drewitt, of course, was of her husband’s +opinion. Maxwell had made a mistake at last; the +trees could do no good. But the trees throve for all +that. Maxwell had considered the matter before ever +Mr. Drewitt thought of it. He had a south aspect; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>he was well sheltered from the north and east; he +knew that the woods surrounding Eversbeg must have +been planted by some one, and he thought he would +risk something at any rate, and make the experiment.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There is many a lovely place across the water, +many a sweet nook in the Green Isle, but I doubt +whether in its way—which, of course, is not a grand +way, but only very quiet and enchanting—the tourist +could chance to see a prettier spot than “Headlands” +at this day.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If you row across the bay from the little fishing +village of Eversbeg, you see the house built of granite +lying among the trees. The lawn slopes quite down +to the edge of the shore, while the woods, spreading +out like a semicircle, enclose this piece of green, which +is soft as velvet. Down almost to high-water mark +the plantations extend, and when the tide is in the +willow, and the birch, and the spruce-fir droop their +branches over the tide. See it on a fine day, when +the bay resembles an opal; when the new-mown grass +appears in the distance to be an emerald set in a +darker band of green; when the rugged headland +shows dark and steep against the calm unruffled ocean; +when there is hardly a ripple on the sea, when there +is scarcely the lightest breeze stirring among the treetops; +when the little fishing village nestling on the +side of Eversbeg Point looks white and picturesque in +the bright sunlight; when the mountains look higher +and nearer than usual, and rear their great heads towards +the sky; when the ruins of Eversbeg Abbey +appear close at hand; when the fresh-shorn sheep are +climbing the hill-sides; when no sound breaks the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>stillness save the plash of the oars as the rowers pull +across the bay, and the drip drip of the water from +the blades, as they hold them above the sea and float +gently towards the shore;—see it thus, I say, and +you can well fancy you have beheld fairyland. It is +a place you cannot bear to leave—that you turn +back and look at with an indescribable emotion—that +you wave your adieu to with the tears filling +your eyes, though you could not give a reason why or +wherefore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell Drewitt found it a wilderness—this is +the paradise he left it. Think of that as you lean +over the stern, and the rowers bear you away from +the garden of Eden, and think, also, if you had such +a nest on earth you might find it hard to leave the +world, and that, perhaps, it is best for you to own nothing +so perfect, so exquisite of its kind.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Headlands is too beautiful—that is all any person +can say. It seems too charming to be real; and +when you have left Eversbeg behind you, and are +travelling away towards Oughterard through the valley +of desolation, through the land of a thousand Dead +Sea lakes, you come gradually to believe that “Headlands” +was a dream—that such a place never +existed—that the lawn does not slope down to the +glassy sea—that the trees do not overhang the +water—that Maxwell Drewitt never planted the +ground at all, but that it remains barren and sterile +to this very day.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nevertheless that modern garden of Eden lies in +Connemara, on the shores of the wide Atlantic; within +sight of its tremendous billows, of its restless waves. +Eversbeg Bay is much more open than Duranmore, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>which almost resembles a lake. On the north side of +Duranmore stands Kincorth, well sheltered from all +breezes save the south, high up on the hill, the house +conspicuous for miles; on the north side of Eversbeg, +lying low by the shore, is the modest mansion Maxwell +reared for himself in the days when he was a +poor and a struggling man.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The trees grew and spread out their branches, the +land improved and began to pay him well.</p> + +<p class='c013'>While difficulties increased at Kincorth, everything +grew smoother and easier at Headlands; and yet one +difficulty had arisen in Maxwell Drewitt’s path.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Colonel Vervensoe was dead; and Lady Emmeline, +by consequence, was left a widow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It took Maxwell a few days to realize the difference +that this fact might make in his position; and +then he drew back his breath and paused, asking himself, +“What next?”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIV.<br> <span class='c011'>Next.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>If the fact of Lady Emmeline being Colonel +Vervensoe’s wife, and unattainable, had not enhanced +her charms in Maxwell Drewitt’s eyes, the fact of her +being Colonel Vervensoe’s widow, and available, +rendered her less desirable still.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There had been a time, indeed, as previously +mentioned, when the young man hesitated about +running away with her, and settled not to do so; but +then his future looked dark in the extreme—now it +was bright and hopeful.</p> + +<p class='c013'>If only Colonel Vervensoe had remained at Cragantlet, +as any other Christian would, instead of dying at such +an unlucky crisis!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It seems as if he had almost done it to spite me,” +muttered Maxwell; and the young man cursed his +neighbour for having departed this life at all.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In former days Lady Emmeline’s loan to Maxwell +had smoothed matters for him; but four years after +that loan complicated his difficulties, and made him +walk round and round Eversbeg Head, and round +Eversbeg Bay, asking himself as he kicked the stones +before him, What next—what next?</p> + +<p class='c013'>The financial crisis which troubled Maxwell was +this:—</p> + +<p class='c013'>Suppose he did not marry Lady Emmeline—her +ladyship would be certain to ask for repayment. He +<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>could not mortgage to repay, because his land was +mortgaged to its full value already. Suppose he +offered to marry her, and that they kept the engagement +secret, and that he never fulfilled his promise?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Before he was well out of his difficulties, somebody +else would marry Lady Emmeline—she was +sure to leave Connemara, because the next heir would +require possession of Cragantlet; and if she went to +Dublin or London, how long was it probable she would +remain a widow? Suppose he did marry her—he +would get fortune and position, but then he would also +get a wife.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is the devil of it!” said Maxwell Drewitt, +with that charming frankness which characterized all +his mental conversations. “That is the devil of it!” +and he hesitated and waited on, while Lady Emmeline +grew kinder and kinder; and, free at last to follow the +bent of her inclination, absolutely forced money on the +man who could have sworn at her for ever having lent +him any.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had his own ideal of a wife, and Lady Emmeline +did not come up to it. He had an ideal the +reality of which was not unlike Jenny Bourke, if +Jenny Bourke had been rich, and well-born, and accomplished.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is not fair to contrast twenty and forty-four—the +bloom of youth and the bloom of rouge—the +charms of purity and innocence and the graces of +fashion and affectation; but, on the other hand, poverty +can bear no comparison with wealth, low birth with +long pedigree.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He could not marry Jenny. Were he as rich as +Crœsus, as great a man as the Duke of Leinster, Maxwell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>felt it would be impossible for him to marry +Ryan’s sister and remain in Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There are some things which to some men are impossible, +and a low match was one of these to Maxwell +Drewitt. No love, no beauty, no truth, no devotion +could reconcile him to that.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Though he had lived in a cabin, though he would +not have minded working like a common labourer to +achieve an object, still Maxwell Drewitt was as proud +as Lucifer; and for the blood of his wife, of the mother +of his children, not to be of the regulation colour and +quality, was a thing terrible to contemplate.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He could not marry Jenny Bourke—poor Jenny! +And Maxwell Drewitt’s dark eyes grew darker as he +thought of the girl who loved him, who was staying +single for his sake, who managed, spite of all her +brother’s precautions, sometimes to see him; who had +got pale, poor child! pale and thin, because of that +hope deferred which maketh the heart sick.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He could not marry Jenny, but he could marry +Lady Emmeline; and he could have her Connemara +property, which lay among the mountains beyond +Cragantlet, and her money to improve his own properties.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He could buy, he could drain, he could till; in +imagination he saw corn waving where the sheep now +browsed. He could be wealthy and independent; he +could soon be almost as great a man as the Earl of +Popingham. He could pay out everybody who had +ever been insolent to him. He could take up the +mortgages on his uncle’s estates; he could make Headlands +the wonder of Galway, the admiration of strangers, +a place to be proud of himself. He could do all this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>if he married Lady Emmeline; but then, when he had +done all, he should not be able to get rid of her: that +was the devil of it, that was where the shoe pinched.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But then,” reflected Maxwell, “hang it! a man +cannot have everything in life; and if he gets the best +thing he must be content. Isn’t it better to satisfy +one’s ambition than one’s love? If we fulfil our ambition, +the gratification remains; if we gratify our love, +the pleasure is transient. Anyhow, I am not called +upon to make a choice, because, though I do love +Jenny, I still cannot marry her—could not if there +were no Lady Emmeline in existence. Hang marriage! +it is like going through life with a halter round one’s +neck. It is the most terrible ‘must’ in existence, because +we seem to have some choice in it, and have, as +a rule, nobody but ourselves to blame if it turn out +ill. All experience is against it—all proverbs are +against it. ‘Next after single a good wife’s best;’ but +the single is better than the good wife. ‘Better marry +late or never.’ I don’t think that is true. I fancy it +must be better to marry young or never. I wish I +had not to decide; and yet, after all, many a man +would consider himself a deuced lucky fellow to be +standing in my shoes. Success has spoiled me. I +would have married her four years ago and welcome. +Oh! Jenny, I wish I had never seen you.” And Maxwell +Drewitt crossed his arms on the table, and leaning +his head on them, thought this problem out—this +wonderful problem of not loving a woman well enough +to marry her, and yet of loving her so much that it +made the idea of marrying another hateful to him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He could not make up his mind; he grew restless, +he became soured; he would ride halfway to Cragantlet, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>and then turn back again. He was so young to sell +himself for money; but yet such a chance might never +come in his way again. Lady Emmeline had been +thought a catch for Colonel Vervensoe. What would +she be therefore for Maxwell Drewitt? It was folly, +it was nonsense, it was midsummer madness; and the +young man began to visit regularly at Cragantlet, +which the courtesy of the next heir had left at Lady +Emmeline’s disposal for twelve months till she should +form her future plans. Mr. Maxwell Drewitt had his +own opinion about this next heir—a distant relative +of the late proprietor—which was not favourable. +He thought he wanted to marry Lady Emmeline himself, +and perhaps so did the widow, for after a time +she began playing off Dolf Vervensoe against Max +Drewitt. Dolf often came down to see to the management +of the estates, and people soon commenced +talking (they talk and chatter in Connemara the same +as in any country village), and saying that Lady +Emmeline would not have to leave Cragantlet at all +except to be married.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She can go to Dublin and buy her trousseau, and +get it all over there,” laughed Mrs. Munks, a little +bitterly, for Cragantlet was a fine property, and the +Honourable Mrs. Munks had daughters.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But surely,” suggested Mrs. Drewitt, “she would +not marry so soon after her husband’s death?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He has been dead a year nearly,” was the reply, +“and I dare say Mr. Vervensoe would let her keep +Cragantlet another for the sake of her fortune; besides, +is there any person on earth who could say for certain +what Lady Emmeline would or would not do? Louisa, +my dear,” went on Mrs. Munks, turning to her second +<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>daughter, “do you remember that funny Scotch song +Miss Macpherson so amused us with the other evening? +Talking of Lady Emmeline puts me in mind of it. +Something about a widow; don’t you recollect?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, I know,” exclaimed Miss Munks, holding up +her riding-habit while she walked across the room, for +as usual the mother and daughter had galloped over +to Kincorth; “at least, I know the song you mean. I +think I can repeat the last two verses, though of course +it would be impossible for me to say the words anything +like Miss Macpherson.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Good gracious! Miss Macpherson! You should +hear her talk, Mrs. Drewitt,” exclaimed Mrs. Munks, +who spoke with a fine brogue fresh as the day it was +imported from the county of Cork.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mrs. Drewitt vaguely wondered whether Miss Macpherson’s +Scotch accent <i>could</i> be any worse than Mrs. +Munks’ Irish, while Miss Louisa began:</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c014'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘Tam withered like a sickly flower that frae its stalk does fa’,</div> + <div class='line'>And in a twelvemonth after that puir Pate was ta’en awa’;</div> + <div class='line'>And as I laid him in his kist and closed his glazèd e’e,</div> + <div class='line'>I wonder’t if the yirth contained a lanelier thing than me.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘Noo I’m a waefu’ widow left, a’ nicht I sich and grane,</div> + <div class='line'>And aften in my musin’ moods when sitting here my lane,</div> + <div class='line'>There’s ae thing I’ll confess to you, ‘bout whilk I’m sair perplext,</div> + <div class='line'>I aften wonder, Janet, noo, whose lassie I’ll be next.’”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“For my part,” concluded Miss Louisa, “I wonder +that while there are more women than men in the +world, widows are allowed to marry at all—I do +indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There was a time when I thought if Colonel Vervensoe +died, another person would try for Lady Emmeline, +and try successfully; but it appears I was mistaken,” +said Mrs. Munks.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>“Who was that other person?” asked Mrs. Drewitt, +being naturally curious on the subject, for where there +are few neighbours, even the quietest woman cannot +help being interested in their affairs.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My dear, you are far too sly,” answered Mrs. +Munks. “You know as well as I do;” and when Mrs. +Drewitt declared and protested that she did not know, +that she had not the faintest idea of whom her visitor +was speaking, Mrs. Munks only laughed the more, and +declared it would be better for her not to enlighten +such pristine innocence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Lady Emmeline never did flirt with any one you +remember, and consequently there can be no person +whom her marrying Mr. Adolphus Vervensoe will disappoint,” +went on Lady Emmeline’s friend. “Colonel +Vervensoe never did forbid any gentleman the house—never +cut any acquaintance of yours when he met +him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You surely do not mean Maxwell!” exclaimed +Mrs. Drewitt. “Why he is young enough to be her +son.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Exactly so; and he is not rich either; while Mr. +Vervensoe—is forty, though he has Cragantlet. Still +I fancy your nephew will be disappointed. We have +met him often of late riding in that direction. Have +not we, Louisa?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, mamma,” answered Louisa, who would have +said “yes,” even if her mamma had stated a falsehood. +“But if you remember he told us he was looking after +some land that was for sale.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A man must say something,” remarked Mrs. Munks. +“In my opinion, Lady Emmeline will do best to marry +Mr. Vervensoe.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>“I think so decidedly,” said Mrs. Drewitt, “if she +marry at all. But from what Lady Emmeline dropped +the other day about her future plans I should think +she meant to remain a widow.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Time will show,” was Mrs. Munks’ reply. And +time did show, for Maxwell Drewitt proposed that very +same evening, was accepted by Lady Emmeline, and +rode home to Headlands an engaged man.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The die was cast; the game played out. He had +won a wife: he had made his fortune.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In after days it was one of Maxwell Drewitt’s +favourite remarks that “a man may get anything he +wants in life if he be only willing to pay high enough +for it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Was he thinking then of the price he had paid for +his wealth, of the exchange he had made for position? +Who can tell? Who ever knew for certain what +pleased or troubled Maxwell Drewitt, until that great +sorrow came which clouded with darkness the evening +of his life?</p> + +<p class='c013'>One fact was sure, however, viz., that when the +young man finally chose to sell himself for money, +to follow ambition and eschew love, he flung his last +chance of making a better thing of existence away for +ever. But he had set out to conquer fortune, and he +gained the day. He had decided that such a prize as +Lady Emmeline might never cross his path again, and +he determined to secure it while within his reach. He +would continue to live at Headlands, and he would +beautify and improve his property. He would farm +Lady Emmeline’s estate, and add acre to acre, and +thousand to thousand, till, when Kincorth did come to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>him, as come it should, Drewitt would be a name worth +talking about.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Better than ever the Martins were known, the +Drewitts should be remembered. They had not sprung +from any trooper of the merciless “Protector;” they +had not kept their estates by currying favour with any +king. The English papers should tell how a man—poor, +disinherited, well-born—worked his way back +to fortune, unassisted by his family, unhelped by patronage. +Tourists would come and wonder to see, in +the midst of that wild region, smiling fields and waving +woods, and neat cottages and blooming gardens.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They would go back and speak of what one individual +had effected. He should have to give evidence +on parliamentary committees: when he grew very, very +rich, perhaps he would go up to Parliament himself. +He could reclaim mile after mile of barren country. +He would drain and cultivate the bogs; he would do +away with the loose stone walls which divided the land +when any division was attempted into about half-acre +plots; he would plant trees up the mountains—there +was no reason why trees should not grow among those +fastnesses that he could understand; he would change +the aspect of Connemara. Did he think of possessing +the whole of it? Had he any vision about all Galway +one day having but one landlord, and that landlord’s +name being Drewitt?</p> + +<p class='c013'>He reduced the 1,566,354 acres Galway contains +into hundreds, and after deducting a certain portion +for lake and mountain, calculated how long it would +take to bring them under cultivation. He thought how +useful those lakes would be for watering cattle, for +purposes of irrigation; he ran over the best sites for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>towns and villages; he saw, in fancy, ships putting +into each secure harbour; he saw the mines worked, +the quarries filled with well-paid labourers, the country +prosperous, the people warmly clad and sufficiently fed. +He was doubtful whether Mayo ought not to figure in +his programme too. As he rode out of Cragantlet +gates he gave the rein to his imagination, and bid it +conjure up before him fame, wealth, success. He held +the bridle loosely in his hand, letting it lie on his +horse’s neck, while he reflected on what he had just +done, and on what fruit that act might bring forth for +him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Gold begets gold,” they say; that was what Maxwell +hoped it might. “Money makes money” is oftentimes +a great truth. Maxwell trusted it would prove +a great truth in his case.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The kingdoms of this world and the glory thereof +seemed to spread out before Maxwell’s mind when he +thought of what he had achieved on little, when he +considered what he might effect with much.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The kingdoms of this world were around him—there +was land to be cultivated—there were the +resources of nature to be developed—there were +the hidden riches of the country to be brought to +light. There was fuel to be had for the cutting—fish +for the catching—cattle for the rearing—corn +for the growing—wealth for the hand of industry +to gather in. There were barren wastes to clothe +with verdure—there were hills to plant with trees—there +was granite to build houses—there was a +land to be peopled—there was a people to elevate +and civilize.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was all very fine; nay, it was more, it was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>glorious; and yet, as the moon sailed out from behind +a bank of watery clouds and shone over the country +this man was traversing, a feeling of loneliness, of desolation, +of misery came upon him which he could +neither explain nor analyze.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There were the tremendous mountains, there the +bare, solitary-looking lakes; far as his eye could see +across the valley, nothing met his view but water, +and stone, and bog: there were hills lying dark, and +silent, and sullen in the distance. Above his head +was a cloudy sky, where the moon kept wandering in and out like a troubled spirit. Now his way was +dark, now light: now the moon shone clear on the lake, +and the road, and the mountains, and then, again, she +played fantastic tricks with the stunted bushes—with +the huge boulders. She would lay a white trap along +the highway and up the mountain-side, at which Maxwell’s +horse would shy frightened; she would dance +on the ripples of the waters; she would thrust her full +face out of window, as it seemed, and stare down at +the earth, and then she would plunge behind the +fringed curtains of the night, and be invisible for a +time again, after which she would come shyly forth +and gaze upon the man who rode slowly and alone +through that desolate portion of God’s fair earth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Is it not necessary for a person to be very sensitive +or very poetical for a scene like this to produce a profound +impression upon him. An individual who has +not an amazingly warm heart can yet feel something +stir within him when he looks upon a fine picture; and +those who have lived in the country all their lives are +as susceptible to the influences of nature’s varying +<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>moods as though her every change was fresh to their +comprehension.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All his life Maxwell Drewitt had loved scenery as +he loved his country. All his life the sun, and the +wind, and the snow, and the frost, and the sea, and +the mountains had talked to him as they oftentimes +fail to speak to a better man; and now, as the moon +shone with a fitful brightness over the landscape, as +her cold light fell on the breast of the lonely waters, +as the clouds rolled up and shrouded the mountains +in darkness, as the eternal hills returned his eager +glance with a hard unsympathising gaze, as they +looked with stony eyes down upon him as they had +looked on others who had gone under their shadow +sighing or singing, laughing or weeping—as he +paused and listened to the dash and flow of the +waters, as he heard the whistle of the plover and the +cry of the curlew, some voice through the still night +spoke as clearly and distinctly to Maxwell Drewitt’s +soul as the “Preacher,” who tried all things, and +pronounced them vanity of vanities, tells the same tale +to us.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Most probably Maxwell Drewitt had never read +Ecclesiastes. If he had, he would certainly not have +recollected any portion of it; and yet it was the same +story as that told so many thousand years ago by the +great king of Israel, which the night, and the clouds, +and the moonlight, and the mountains were whispering +prophetically in his ear—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I made me great works; I builded me houses; +I planted me vineyards: I gathered me also silver and +gold, and whatsoever mine eyes desired I kept not from +them, I withheld not my heart from any joy.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>“Then I looked on all the works that my hands +had wrought, and <i>behold all was vanity and vexation of +spirit, and there was no profit under the sun. Yea, I +hated all my labour which I had taken under the sun: +because I should leave it unto the man that shall be after +me.</i>”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is a desolate place,” thought Maxwell. “It +gives a man the blues!” and he struck his heel against +his horse’s flank, and the animal sprang forward along +the hard road, and the flints flashed fire as the iron +hoofs dashed over them. He passed by lonely lakes, +round the base of steep rocks, over bridges beneath +which the mountain streams brawled noisily among the +stones. He passed by silent cabins, by unroofed cottages, +by deserted hearthstones gleaming white and bare +in the moonlight; by a lonely chapel, by a forsaken-looking +graveyard, where the tombs were covered with +moss, where the crosses were black with weather, wind, +and age.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On, on, he rode, and as he rode he sung, either +to encourage his horse or to reassure himself, that +cheerful ballad which recounts the loves of King +Connor and the fair Kathleen, and the sad fate of the +latter:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c014'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘The castle portal stood grimly wide,</div> + <div class='line'>None welcomed the king from that weary ride,</div> + <div class='line'>For dead, in the light of the dawning day,</div> + <div class='line'>The pale sweet form of the welcomer lay</div> + <div class='line'>Who had yearned for his voice while dying.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“While dying!” hummed Maxwell, and the words +brought him within sight of Eversbeg.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was the sea, the fair, calm open sea, with +the moonlight sleeping in it as peacefully as if he had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>not seen the same light wandering about the hills and +through the valleys he had just left. There was +Eversbeg Abbey, where poor Kathie had been lying +dead this many a day. There was Eversbeg Head, +round which Mrs. Drewitt had walked when she came +to speak to him about Susan and Kathie and Lady +Vervensoe.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was the cabin where he had received her, +where they had sat beside the turf-fire talking; there +were the woods of Kincorth high up on the other side +of Duranmore Bay, and there close down by the bay +was his own place, which he meant to convert into the +garden of Erin. Was he sorrowful when he came in +sight of all these things? My reader, no! the dark +hour had passed away, and Maxwell Drewitt was a +man of the world, in the world, loving the world once +more.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was glad to have done with uncertainty, to +have settled his future past recall, to feel no more +hesitation, to have laid down a course to which he +meant to adhere.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was glad; he had done well: he should do +better. It was a good match. He knew half the +county would say what a capital thing he had done +for himself. He knew many a man would gnash his +teeth with rage when he heard of Drewitt having carried +off the prize.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Altogether, Mr. Maxwell Drewitt was a contented +man; and yet, as he came along the road that led +down towards the bay, he stopped his horse for a moment, +and strained his eyes away to a little cottage +gleaming white and ghostly in the moonlight.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>It was a deserted cottage now, and he had made +it so. There was no Jenny waiting for him by the +stream or up the ravine. She had long been living +with her brother in Duranmore, and many suitors had +sought her hand in vain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She will marry now,” was the idea that passed +through Maxwell’s mind; and then, with a pang of +remorse, he added, “Poor Jenny!”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XV.<br> <span class='c011'>Man and Beast.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>There is a great pathos about the life of a common +man, about the story of any one whose wishes are +moderate, whose pleasures are limited, whose hopes are +small, whose way through existence is along the river +instead of across the sea, adown the valley rather than +over the mountains; and for this reason that little deserted +cottage close by Duranmore Bay, looking white +and ghostly in the moonlight, was as pitiful an object +as Maxwell Drewitt’s eyes could have rested on.</p> + +<p class='c013'>No person knew better how Ryan had loved that +cottage; how he had delighted in the look out over the +bay, in the view up the ravine. He had seen him +pacing beside the stream and superintending the mowing +of his little crop of hay. He remembered the +various articles of additional furniture with which Ryan +had adorned the rooms in honour of Jenny’s arrival; +how he had planted creepers by the porch, and nailed +trellis-work together for the honeysuckle and the clematis +to clamber over; how he had laid out his little +garden sloping towards the south, and filled it with +London-pride and lavender, with red daisies and +hepaticas, with cabbage roses and sweet Williams, with +daffodils, and pinks, and southernwood, and tulips, and +gentianallas, and all the common flowers which are so +beautiful in their homely simplicity and sweetness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As a man plants and sows and beautifies for his +<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>wife that is to be, so Ryan, knowing that dream could +return no more, that love could never come back again +with its freshness, planted and sowed and beautified +for the young sister who was going to make his house +a home for him at last.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All this Maxwell Drewitt remembered. He recollected +also what a different man Ryan seemed after +his sister’s return; how much more comfortable he appeared +to be; how he used to hurry home from Duranmore +to his little cottage; how busy he was wont to +make himself with spade, and rake, and hoe.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The simple pleasures of a common life came back +to Maxwell’s memory separately and singly with the +power of a curse. He had driven Ryan away from +Inchnagawn; it was he who had laid the garden waste; +he who had broken down the trellis-work and left the +cottage desolate.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As regarded the horsewhipping, he and Ryan had +long been even; for Maxwell had worked on and till +he got Waller’s agency withdrawn from Ryan and +given to a <i>protégé</i> of Mr. Samuel Turner.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had made no secret of this to the lawyer, for +he knew for his sister’s sake Mr. Ryan would make no +complaint of unfairness to Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You’ll spy again, Ryan, will you?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, and thrash you again if I catch you meddling +with her,” was the spirited reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At which answer Maxwell laughed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I owe you a good turn for your interference, +though I have done you a bad one for meddling in +my affairs. But for you, I really think I should have +married Miss Bourke.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>“I am greatly obliged for the intended condescension,” +said Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You would have been more obliged to me for +the actual condescension, I suppose?” suggested Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I told you once I would rather put Jenny in her +coffin than give her to you,” answered the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nonsense,” retorted young Drewitt; “you only +said that because you thought I never would ask her +honourably.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Repeat that sentence—I wish you would repeat +it,” said Ryan, facing round on his tormentor, who, +however, declined to oblige him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You understood my meaning well enough. I +need not go over the ground again. You are wrong. +There was a time when I loved your sister very much; +when—when I might have made a lady of her. But +you cured me of my folly; and I vowed then to be +revenged. I am revenged. Let bygones be bygones.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The pair had never ceased to be on speaking terms. +Maxwell was too wise and Ryan too careful to permit +the little world of Duranmore to imagine there was +any open rupture between them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They nodded in the street, they shook hands when +they met in a room; only Ryan did not go to Headlands, +and Maxwell never entered Ryan’s office in +Duranmore. Ryan never ceased keeping a watchful +eye on Jenny, and Maxwell carried his pebble in his +pocket, and turned it every now and then, biding his +time.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had sworn to be revenged, and he was revenged. +Did that fact comfort him now, as he looked down on +Inchnagawn, lying white and silent in the moonlight?</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>This man had owned no wide acres, no fine park, +no great house. He had but a little patch of land, +and behold he was cast out of it! He had been doing +very well, and all at once the ground was cut from +below his feet. Every man over whom Maxwell had +any influence left him and went to the opposition +lawyer. Poor Ryan’s conduct had not in all cases +been above fear and above reproach; and Maxwell, +having once been his confidant, fought and killed him +with his own weapons.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had almost to commence again, and there were +times when he thought of leaving Duranmore altogether, +and seeking his fortune elsewhere.</p> + +<p class='c013'>That was what Maxwell wanted to make him do. +He wished to see the back of Mr. Timothy Ryan, and +of his sister also.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was the old story of the poor man and his ewe +lamb over again. Ryan had not much, but what he +had Maxwell took from him. Maxwell was gaining +great possessions; but, like Ahab, he longed for the +vineyard of Naboth the Jezreelite as well.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Besides, Ryan knew too much of him and of his +affairs, and he desired to be rid of his former friend. +When you have made all the use you can of a weapon, +it is as well to break it, so that the steel may +not prove dangerous in other hands. That was what +Maxwell wanted to do. He wished to get Ryan out +of his way, and he had not stood over-nice about compassing +his end.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Was it pleasant for him to remember these things +as he rode slowly homeward under the moonlight? +Was there nothing pathetic even to him in Ryan’s +worn face, in Jenny’s pale cheeks?</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>“If she will marry Connor,” was the conclusion +Mr. Maxwell Drewitt arrived at that night, “I will try +to push him on; but I cannot do anything for her +brother. He must leave Duranmore.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Jenny at that very moment was lying awake +in the moonlight, thinking, with the tears in her eyes, +of him; whilst Ryan was sitting in his office, facing his +affairs and cogitating concerning ways and means.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell could have made them both happy, had +he chosen; but he elected not to make them happy, +and fell asleep contented.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There had been many minor changes in Duranmore +during the four years I have spoken of. There was +an opposition doctor in the town, and another attorney. +A queer old bachelor had taken up his quarters, for a +permanency apparently, at the “Marsden Arms.” Mr. +Murphy was gone to London, from which place he sent +occasionally notes of rare and exquisite cases to Dr. +Sheen, who, not having the same enthusiasm for his +profession, thought that the “good old way” seemed +best after all.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot help fancying,” he wrote back on one +occasion to his late assistant, “that the operation you +mention (laryngotomy) must have been excruciatingly +painful to the patient.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No doubt it was,” replied Mr. Murphy, in dudgeon; +“but, good God, sir, consider how interesting!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is all very true,” remarked Dr. Sheen to +Mr. Murphy’s successor, “but I never was fond of +diseases out of the common;” which was all the more +fortunate for Dr. Sheen, as he did not meet with many +singular cases amongst his patients, and could not have +cured them if he had.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>The most out-of-the-way ailment he ever had to +puzzle over was that of an old lady named Connor, +who lived with her son in the cottage near Eversbeg +Head (on the Duranmore side), which, at the time Mrs. +Drewitt first beheld the Atlantic, was tenanted by a +retired sea captain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mrs. Connor’s complaint was gastric carcinoma—a +disease which was, in those days, to the faculty precisely +what an unclassified animal or a strange fish +proves to the naturalist. Mr. Murphy would have been +enchanted with the case, but not so Doctor Sheen.</p> + +<p class='c013'>To Mrs. Connor herself it seemed as terrible an +affliction as could have been laid upon her. She found +nothing interesting or entertaining in the matter. It +was dying by inches. It was sinking in the ocean +with help all around. It was wasting off the face of +the earth under the influence of a disease more depressing +than consumption, and equally hopeless—a +disease of which science could give no account—for +which skill could prescribe no remedy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There were no alternations in this ailment—no +days of hope, no times of relief. It was like hiring a +hearse, and driving by slow stages to the grave. It +was not life; it was not death; but it was dying, day +after day, week after week, month after month, with +starvation for the end.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Starvation, though she had plenty of nourishment, +and was able to eat. A disease as strange and inexplicable +to the spectator as perplexing to a doctor; a +disease for which there was no cure but death, no +palliation but patience; in which there was no stay, no +pause—which picked the flesh off her bones, and +pinched her cheeks, and exhausted her strength, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>tried her temper—which it was hard to bear alone in +that solitary cottage by the sea-shore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Her son could not stay with her all the day. He +had to be away from early in the morning till six +o’clock in the evening, at the marble quarries, where +he was a kind of overseer, and both mother and son +consequently felt very grateful when Jenny Bourke +took her needlework in her hand, and went to pass a +few hours at Duranmore Cottage.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She was quiet and sad enough in these days, it is +true; but she seemed none the less sweet and loveable +for that. She would sing her plaintive songs, and talk +to the old lady about her ailments, and lead her out +in the sunshine round by Eversbeg Head, or up towards +the mountains where the marble quarries were; +and poor Mrs. Connor took kindly to the girl, and +prayed her when she was gone to try and love Dennis, +and become in due time his wife.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Jenny only shook her head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a few days after Maxwell’s night ride home +from Cragantlet that Jenny and Mrs. Connor climbed +to the top of Eversbeg Head—no great ascent after +all—and sat them down there.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The summer’s sun was shining over the scene—over +the wide Atlantic, over Duranmore and Eversbeg +Bays, over the old Abbey, and over the Headlands, +towards which Jenny’s eyes turned longingly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She had not seen Maxwell for some time, and she +loved him. How much? More than Dennis Connor +loved her; more than Jenny could ever love any one +again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The two women sat side by side, each busy with +her own thoughts. Mrs. Connor was gazing over the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>fair earth, upon which she should so soon have to close +her eyes. Jenny was looking at Maxwell’s home and +wishing she could see him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Jenny was a good little soul, and she had a kind +heart beating in her breast; and she was very sorry for +Mrs. Connor, and very glad to help her to while away +the time; but, yet, Jenny was not quite disinterested.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Duranmore Cottage was not a great distance from +Headlands, and she could sometimes catch a glimpse +of Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She caught a glimpse of him on the day in question +when he came with a new horse Lady Emmeline +had sent him along the avenue from his house.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The drive was rough and the horse intractable. +So Maxwell led him up to the main road, accompanied +on his way so far by a couple of his men, who were +curious to see the animal in harness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The creature had been used to the saddle, and rebelled +against the indignity of a vehicle. He had been +used likewise to jib, but a pair of spurs prevented +much harm coming of that habit, so long as he had a +rider on his back. With a conveyance behind him, +however, the case was different; and the moment Maxwell +jumped into his tax-cart and touched the animal +with his whip the brute began to back.</p> + +<p class='c013'>All this Jenny, from her seat among the grass and +the heather, was able to see, and she could see also +Maxwell shouting and gesticulating, although she could +not hear what he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Take his head, Lynch, and lead him on a bit,” +Mr. Drewitt ordered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But leading him on proved a matter beyond Lynch’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>capability, for which reason Maxwell began flogging the +creature unmercifully.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A jibbing horse being one of those circumstances +which tries a man’s temper too much, is, I think, one +of those struggles which a woman ought never to see; +but Jenny, being on the height above the Headlands, +could not help seeing, and neither could Mrs. Connor, +for that matter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What a wretch—what a brute!” exclaimed the +old lady indignantly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If the horse won’t go on, what is he to do?” demanded +Jenny, ready to do battle for Maxwell, though +she could have run down the hill and prayed him to +cease beating the creature for her sake.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For all the good flogging did, Maxwell might as +well have flogged one of the granite pillars against +which Lady Emmeline’s present had backed the tax-cart, +and after he had lashed the thong off his whip +the young man sprang with a curse to the ground, and, +taking the reins short in his hand, tugged and tore at +the horse’s mouth like a madman. And the more he +tore the bit the higher the brute lifted his head, while +he lowered his hind quarters and backed as well as he +was able.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a trial of brute strength now. There was +no skill, no horsemanship, no science in the matter; +it was whose will should be fiercest, whose power +greatest.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As I have said before, a man is not to be judged +by his conduct towards a jibbing horse; but yet to the +outsider—to the spectator whose temper is not tried, +whose blood is not up, whose strength is not defied—the +struggle between an unreasoning animal with a bit +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>in his mouth, with harness on his back, with a conveyance +behind him, and a man free to go, free to +think, free to act, always seems cowardly and terrible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>With her breath coming thick and short, Jenny +watched the combat. A woman cannot bear these kind +of struggles, perhaps because she knows that in the +hands of man she is oftentimes but as a creature having +a bit in her mouth herself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Which would win? Maxwell turned his whip in +his hand and struck the horse with the butt-end again +and again, with such force that Jenny could hear the +blows, and feel each stroke go through her own tender +heart.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He sent for a heavy cart-whip and showered blows +on the animal with that. His men took each a wheel +and shoved, while he kicked and damned and flogged.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That man is a perfect devil!” said Mrs. Connor, +solemnly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let us go, oh, let us go!” cried Jenny, rising; +but still fascinated, she stood still and watched.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then she saw that which through all her after life +it made her turn sick and faint to remember—Maxwell +stoop and scoop up a handful of gravel off the +road.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Get up,” he said to one of the men, and the man +jumped in and took the reins.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Lash him on,” continued Maxwell, and he handed +the fellow the whip.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then Maxwell thrust the gravel up the animal’s +nostrils, rubbing the small sharp stones into the quivering +flesh; and while the creature, mad with pain, sprang +<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>forward, he leaped to his seat, and taking both reins +and whip, kept flogging the horse far as Jenny’s eyes +could follow him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think, Mrs. Connor, I will go home,” she said, +when she had walked in silence back to Duranmore +Cottage, and helped Mrs. Connor off with her shawl +and settled her in her chair by the window. “I think +that horse has made me feel a little ill.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mrs. Connor looked into the girl’s face as she said +this, and saw there what she never told to Dennis, or +Jenny, or any human being; only she sat for a long +time after Jenny left her, crying all alone.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Meanwhile Jenny walked back to Duranmore, heartsick, +faint, and weary, and when she was near her own +door she was met by Mrs. Sheen, the doctor’s wife—for +among other changes, Dr. Sheen had taken unto +himself a wife—who said:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How pale you look, Miss Bourke! What is wrong +with you?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have walked too far in the heat, Mrs. Sheen,” +answered Jenny. “I sat out in the sun with poor Mrs. +Connor, and it has made me feel faint.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is no wonder Mr. Connor is fond of you,” +replied Mrs. Sheen, with a knowing look; “but you +must not overdo the thing, my dear. Even for his +sake you must not.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do not know what you mean at all,” answered +Jenny; but she blushed up to the roots of her hair, +nevertheless.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I did not mean anything, of course,” explained +Mrs. Sheen; “and talking of marriages—have you +heard the news?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>“News! I did not know there was ever any news +in Duranmore,” said Jenny.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is news now, at any rate,” was the reply. +“Mr. Maxwell Drewitt is going to be married to Lady +Emmeline Vervensoe.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>The houses danced up and down before Jenny’s +eyes, and the street went round and round.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will you tell me all about it to-morrow?” she +asked, while she felt blindly about for the wall, and +held on by a window-sill. “I feel so sick and faint +now, Mrs. Sheen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Had not I better bid the Doctor come round and +see you?” said the lady; but Jenny answered:</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is only the heat. I shall be well to-morrow.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then she walked into the house and ran up the +staircase, and locked herself into her own room, where +she fell on the floor in a dead swoon.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVI.<br> <span class='c011'>Poor Jenny.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>It was on a Monday that Maxwell Drewitt proposed +to Lady Emmeline, and on the following Friday +he was coming along the road leading from Eversbeg +to Duranmore, when he met a palefaced, large-eyed +girl, who told him she wanted to speak to him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not now, Jenny,” he said. “I am going up to a +party at Kincorth. Wait for a day or two.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I wait any longer I shall die,” she answered. +“I must speak to you. Timothy is away, and I have +been watching for you all the afternoon. Let me ask +you something now, and then go to your party if you +like.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We cannot stand talking on the road here, Jenny,” +he answered, “but I tell you what,” he added, seeing +the look of despair in her poor tearful eyes: “meet +me at twelve, in the summer-house at the top of the +fall (you know the summer-house). I will be there.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Upon your honour?” she asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Upon my soul,” he replied, and the pair parted. +She walked forward to Mrs. Connor’s, and he went on +to Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a quiet party, given in honour of Maxwell’s +engagement. The Drewitts did not think well of the +match, and for that reason they were, perhaps, a little +over-anxious to be cordial to Lady Emmeline.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a good thing for Maxwell, Mr. and Mrs. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>Drewitt agreed; and yet Mrs. Drewitt knew a younger +woman would have appeared to her better.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Such a union was likely to give Maxwell all he +had lost through his father’s unlucky marriage, but +still it seemed unnatural to see so young a man selling +himself for money.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Nevertheless, the Drewitts were bound to be pleased: +the head of the family was expected to hold out the +right hand of fellowship to Lady Emmeline, and Mr. +and Mrs. Drewitt had accordingly driven over to +Cragantlet and invited the widow to a very quiet party +in honour of the event.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On account of Lady Emmeline’s bereavement dancing +would have been improper, but, looking towards her +impending marriage, music was permissible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a musical party therefore—that is, dinner +and music. Only very intimate friends on both sides +were invited, such as the Munks and Marsdens and +Hickmans and Dolf Vervensoe, who began at once to +pay marked attentions to Laura Munks, which attentions +caused the heart of her honourable mother to +leap for joy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Miss Macpherson came with the Munks. Mrs. Drewitt +had asked her to come, greatly on account of her musical +attainments, which would, that poor lady hoped, cause +the evening to go off all the more pleasantly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Lady Emmeline was in great force: she put on her +deepest mourning, and flourished her widest hem-stitched +pocket-handkerchief. She kissed Mrs. Drewitt and Wilhelmina, +and Master Brian and Miss Geraldine, and +pressed Mr. Drewitt’s hand with emotion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And Mr. Drewitt pressed Lady Emmeline’s, and +the pair had a little private conversation in the embrasure +<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>of one of the drawing-room windows; and Mr. +Drewitt wept, and Lady Emmeline wept, and the two +exchanged sentiments of regard and vows of eternal +friendship.</p> + +<p class='c013'>To do the poetess justice, she did not care one +straw about money. Give her Maxwell, and she was +indifferent to filthy lucre. Had he owned Kincorth +fifty times over she could not have been fonder of +him. It is pitiful to think how far good looks go +with women: how much better she liked this handsome +young fellow than she had ever cared for her far-honester +husband.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Well-a-day, well-a-day! so the world goes, and so +the world will go till the Millennium.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Of all the company, Maxwell himself was, I think, +the most uncomfortable.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A man takes kindly enough to having honours thrust +upon him, but he feels awkward when a select party is +invited to see the process.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Besides, though he loved money he hated marriage; +and, above all, was there not a poor soft-hearted little +girl crying her eyes out for his sake?</p> + +<p class='c013'>Poor child! poor Jenny! She was in his memory +all that evening. He could not see Lady Emmeline +for thinking of her when the widow spoke; and as for +Miss Macpherson, there were some people whom Maxwell +always detested, and Miss Macpherson was one +of them; for this was part of the song that terrible +Scotchwoman elected to sing with a pathos utterly indescribable, +while Maxwell Drewitt stood beside his +aunt, digging his nails into his flesh, and cursing the +poet who wrote the words and the woman who sung +them with all his heart and soul and strength.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>Was ever a more mournful song penned, reader, +than that from which Miss Macpherson selected four +sorrowful verses? Four verses, sorrowful and beautiful. +Here they are:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c014'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“My head is like to rend, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>My heart is like to break;</div> + <div class='line'>I’m wearin’ aff my feet, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>I’m dyin’ for your sake:</div> + <div class='line'>Oh! lay your cheek to mine, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Your hand upon my head;</div> + <div class='line'>Oh! say ye’ll think on me, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>When I am cold and dead.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“It’s vain to comfort me, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Sair grief maun hae its will;</div> + <div class='line'>But let me rest upon your breast,</div> + <div class='line in2'>To sab and greet my fill;</div> + <div class='line'>Let me sit on your knee, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Let me shed by your hair,</div> + <div class='line'>And look into the face, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>I never may see mair.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“I’m weary o’ this warld, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>And sick wi’ all I see;</div> + <div class='line'>I canna live as I hae lived,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Or be as I should be;</div> + <div class='line'>But fauld into your heart, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The heart that still is thine,</div> + <div class='line'>And kiss ance mair the white, white cheek</div> + <div class='line in2'>Ye said was red lang syne.</div> + </div> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“The lav’rock in the lift, Willie,</div> + <div class='line in2'>That lilts far ower our heid,</div> + <div class='line'>Will sing the morn as merrilie</div> + <div class='line in2'>Aboun the clay cauld deid;</div> + <div class='line'>And this green turf we’re sittin’ on,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Wi’ dewdrops shimmerin’ sheen,</div> + <div class='line'>Will hap the heart that luvit thee</div> + <div class='line in2'>As warld has seldom seen.”<a id='rA'></a><a href='#fA' class='c015'><sup>[A]</sup></a></div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='footnote' id='fA'> +<p class='c013'><a href='#rA'>A</a>. The whole of this ballad is to be found in a curious collection of +Scotch songs entitled “Whistle Binkie.” The book is somewhat rare, and +I do not chance to have it by me at the moment; but I believe the verses +quoted above were written by Motherwell; and I know that they, as well +as the “King’s Ride,” referred to on page 215 (the name of the author of +which I am unable to learn), have recently been most charmingly set to +music by Miss Elizabeth Philp.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>After the manner of all Scotch poems, the original +was of great length. If Maxwell had heard the whole +of it I think he would have sacrificed Miss Macpherson +in his uncle’s drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>How long that evening seemed! How unendurable! +How intolerable it was to listen to the chitter-chatter +of a dozen female tongues! How plainly he could see +the rouge on Lady Emmeline’s cheeks! How he hated +the affectation of her manners! How sick the little +flutter she pretended to feel made him! How he wished +to heaven he could break Dolf Vervensoe’s head for his +sly allusions, for his meaning looks!</p> + +<p class='c013'>Miss Macpherson sang, and Mrs. Drewitt sang, and +Laura Munks sang, and Lady Emmeline was induced +to “join in.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then they had tea handed round, and the card-tables +were brought out, and the old stagers played +whist, while the young people flirted, and Lady Emmeline +sat talking demurely to Mr. Drewitt, and Maxwell +walked from window to window looking forth at +the view on which the moon was just rising. It must +be getting on for twelve he knew by that, and thinking +of Jenny, he went across to Lady Emmeline, and after +leaning over the back of her chair and whispering a +few compliments in her ear, reminded her how late it +was getting.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will come with me as far as Eversbeg,” she +suggested; but Maxwell told her he thought of remaining +at Kincorth for the night, upon which she +rose to go.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Time has passed so pleasantly, Mrs. Drewitt,” +said Lady Emmeline, “that I had not the least idea +of the hour.” And the widow, after a tender farewell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>of the Drewitt family, swept down to her carriage, attended +by Maxwell and his uncle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Her departure was the signal for the remainder of +the party to disperse; and accordingly, with a great +clattering of horses’ hoofs, and banging to of carriage +doors, and putting up of carriage steps, the guests +drove off, and left Kincorth quiet and lonely in the +moonlight.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then Maxwell bade Mrs. Drewitt good-night, and +took his hat, spite of Mr. Drewitt’s entreaties for him +to stay.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Thank you, no,” answered Maxwell, “I cannot +remain. I told Lady Emmeline I thought I should, +but I forgot then that a man said he would come to +me to-morrow morning at seven about some stock, and +I should not care to have to walk over from here so +early as all that comes to. Good-night, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Good-night, Maxwell, and I wish you every +happiness. I think you have made a most prudent +choice,” finished Mr. Drewitt, wringing his nephew’s +hand; which piece of commendation elicited the remark, +“D—n my choice and your thoughts too,” from +Maxwell, as he walked down the drive.</p> + +<p class='c013'>When he had got well among the trees he left the +gravelled walk, and made his way through the plantations +to the glen mentioned in an early chapter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Many a time he and Jenny had met in that glen +during the last two years, for it was a lonely place +where strangers were sure never to intrude, and where +the family rarely penetrated. At the very top of the +glen stood the ruined summer-house, going fast to +wreck and decay. The roof let in the wet, the floor +was damp and grass-grown, the seats were broken and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>crazy. It was nearly a mile away from the mansion, +and as solitary and deserted a spot for a meeting of +the kind as can well be imagined.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As he climbed up the steep path which led to it +from the glen, Maxwell, looking at the summer-house +perched on the very top of the waterfall, saw a woman +leaning against the rustic pillars that formed the +entrance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are late,” she said; “I thought you were not +going to come;” and she dropped back the shawl she +had put over her head, and the white sad face was +lifted appealingly to his in the moonlight.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have I ever disappointed you, Jenny?” he asked, +and he kissed her cold lips while the girl clung to him +in a kind of passionate despair.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They told me you were going to be married,” +she whispered; “it is not true? tell me it is not +true.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>If there had been any use in telling her a lie he +would have done it; but he knew it must come to this +sooner or later, and so he held his peace, and turned +aside his head.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why don’t you look at me?” she cried; “why +don’t you answer?” And then, in her extremity, she +fell on her knees before him, and prayed him say it +was false, it was not true.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He lifted her from the ground, and took her in his +arms, and held her to his heart, and kissed her over +and over again; but still he said nothing, while she +kept moaning out—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s not true! You never could be so fond of me, +and marry another woman.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I were married to twenty women I could never +<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>be so fond of one of them as I am of you,” he answered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you are not going to be married? Say it +was an untruth they told me—say so, for God’s sake!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What can it matter, Jenny?” he replied. “I will +never love any one as I love you. I swear that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you promised to marry <i>me</i>!” Jenny broke +out, tearing herself from his embrace, and facing him +as he stood silent and pale in the moonlight. “You +swore that to me. You said whenever you had money +enough you would marry me, and that then, when we +were married, Timothy would soon come round. You +did, you know you did! and if it was a lie, God pardon +you, Maxwell Drewitt, and God help me!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>She sank to the earth once more, not kneeling this +time, but crouching, with her hands covering her face, +with her head bent forward on her lap, crying—crying, +oh! so terribly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And the moonlight lay on tree and ocean and field—on +Duranmore down by the shore, on the great +mountains, and the smaller hills.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will marry me, Maxwell?” she sobbed at +last, and she seized his hands in hers, and covered +them with tears and kisses. “You cannot mean to +desert me after all. You cannot leave me to face the +world’s scorn. I would do my best to please you. I +would never ask to go out with you to any place, or +to be your equal, or to know your concerns. Only +marry me, for the love of God!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I told you before,” he answered huskily, “that I +can never love any woman but you; and as long as I +love you, what does it matter whether I am married +or single?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>“Maybe it does not matter to you,” she said; “but +to me—to me——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will marry somebody else, Jenny, and look +back upon all this as a foolish dream—a foolish happy +dream.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s a dream that’s mighty like reality,” she answered. +“I wish it was a dream!” went on the girl, +passionately. “I wish that I could wake now and +know that all that has passed was only a dream! If I +could go back to what I was when I first met you, I’d +die happy. I wouldn’t care that this was my last night +on earth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Jenny—Jenny!” he remonstrated.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m thinking that the water down by there looks +mighty quiet,” she continued, looking with her great +sorrowful eyes away to the sea. “If I could get anybody +to row me out far enough that I’d never come +ashore, I’d drown myself. Timothy would be sorry, +but he would not be half as sorry as he will be if I +don’t do it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell could not bear this. He made her get +up, and drew her back to the firmest of the seats, and +sat down beside her, and laid the poor tired head on +his breast and tried to comfort her. There had been +a time when his lightest caress made Jenny’s heart +leap with joy; but nothing he could say or do would +comfort her now. “Marry me, marry me!” she kept +crying, and she twined her arms round his neck and +told him how their sin had found them out; how it +was because she knew she could keep their secret +no longer that she wanted him to save her from +shame.</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a minute, Maxwell sat stunned; a sickening +<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>remorse came over him. Her child!—and she was +little more than a child when he first met her. Her +child!—Maxwell knew now the reason of her pale +thin cheeks, of her unusual importunity, of her longing +look towards the quiet sea.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh! Jenny, Jenny, I wish we had never seen one +another,” he cried out at last; “I wish I had never +looked at your pretty face, my darling!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And it’s I that wish I had never seen you!” she +answered, “or that I had died before this ever came +to pass; before I ever was the bad girl I have been, +and brought trouble and disgrace on the one that knew +you better than I did. What are you going to do +now?” she demanded, with a sudden access of indignation. +“Are you going to marry me or leave me?—going +to desert me or shelter me from the storm? You +will marry me, Maxwell, won’t you? Now that you +know all, you will not forsake me?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And she put her “cheek against his cheek,” and +took his hand and held it upon her heart, while she +begged him to have mercy, while she craved him to +have pity, in tones that Maxwell Drewitt remembered +at his dying hour.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But she did not know with whom she had to deal. +The very reason she assigned would have been powerful +enough to prevent Maxwell fulfilling his promise. +Should the finger of scorn be pointed at him?—should +the purity of his wife be questioned? He would +as soon have thought of marrying the vilest of women +as of mating with Jenny now. And he had brought +her to this, with his lying words, with his false tongue, +with his fair promises! He had found her young and +guileless and loving, and she was sitting now with the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>moonlight streaming on her pale face, ruined and betrayed. +That was a pleasant memory for him when +“the door of the house came to be shut,” when the +noise of the outer world sounded no longer in his ears, +when there was no future of life stretching out before +him—but only silence, and sickness, and recollection +in the darkened chamber, in the lonely room.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Would he marry her?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>No. But Maxwell was at immense pains to explain +why he could not do so: how he was very, very poor; +how he was only marrying Lady Emmeline for her +money; how he would always spare enough for Jenny; +how, though another woman might own his name, no +one but Jenny should own his heart. He tried to work +upon her feelings; he tried to get her to be self-sacrificing +for the sake of the love she bore him. “You +would not like to see me struggling for bread all my +days?” he finished: “you would not like to ruin me +and keep me poor till the end of my life?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You ought to have thought about that before you +ruined me,” she answered. “You talk to me as if +money could give me back what I have lost, when I +would cheerfully beg my bread from door to door if +only I could be what I once was; if I only could!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But, Jenny,” he answered, “why should you be +ruined at all? There’s a man who would marry you +to-morrow—Connor. Marry him, and then——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He stopped in his sentence, for the girl rose up at +his words and looked him in the face. She unwound +his arm from about her, she put his hand away from +her face, she lifted her head from his shoulder and +stood in the moonlight staring at the man she loved +with an incredulous surprise.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>“And it’s that you want me to do?” she said. +“And it’s your child you would have me pass off on +him as his?—and that’s the way you think you’ll get +rid of me? But you’re mistaken; you’re wrong this +time. I’ll tell Timothy; I’ll tell Lady Emmeline; I’ll +tell your uncle, and I’ll see if there isn’t one of them +will have me righted. Marry Dennis! Oh! Father of +Heaven, what is this at all, at all?” and she rushed +out of the summer-house and down the glen, sobbing +as she went.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He picked up her shawl and followed her. It did +not take much pleading on his part to make her promise +that she would not fulfil her threat—that she would +not go and blazon her wrongs about.</p> + +<p class='c013'>She blazed up into a passion one moment, but was +calm the next.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will do well for you, Maxwell,” she said, “though +you have done ill for me. I will keep your secret, if +it kill me. I will be faithful to you, though you have +been false to me. I won’t have any money; but I +won’t drown myself: I promise you, and I don’t break +my word. Let me pass you. Don’t kiss me again—don’t; +you belong to another woman now, and I hope—I +do hope she will make you as happy as I would +have tried to do!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot let you go, Jenny,” he said. “I love +you, and you only, still.” And he kissed her as he +never kissed another on earth, with passionate tenderness, +with a hungry affection, with a despairing remorse—kissed +her while the tears ran down her white +cheeks, and the stream trickled at their feet, and the +roar of the waterfall sounded in their ears, and the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>trees stirred their branches in the light wind which went +rustling and murmuring among the trees.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then he wrapped the shawl which she wore for +disguise, like the country people, gently about her, and +pulled it over her head. And thus they parted, so far +as meeting and loving and trusting was concerned, for +ever.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It is not in all cases parting to be separated from +those we love by absence or death, by distance or the +grave.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There are worse partings than those on the deck +of the outward-bound ship, or by the dying beds of the +dear ones we have walked with through years—worse +partings, between two who may yet hear each other’s +voices, and touch each other’s hands, and look in each +other’s faces, day after day.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVII.<br> <span class='c011'>Master Harold.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>There was little change in Connemara—in the +general aspect of the country I mean—and yet the +suns of sixteen summers had risen and set upon the +mountains since Maxwell Drewitt rode home from +Cragantlet under the moonlight—since, under the +moonlight also, Jenny Bourke accepted the sorrow that +was inevitable, and went away through the night, crying +silently.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There were the mountains, grand and stern and +rugged as ever; there were the desolate lakes, the +dreary bogs, the huge boulders, the endless bays, the +rocky headlands, the grassy promontories washed by +the wide ocean.</p> + +<p class='c013'>To look at the country, any one might have thought +only a new day had dawned upon the earth; and it +was a new day indeed, but one twenty years after that +summer afternoon when you, reader, first looked into +the parlour of Inchnagawn Cottage, and heard Maxwell +Drewitt and Timothy Ryan talking about the new mistress +who was coming home to Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>What are twenty years, when all is said and done, +but as an hour in the life of the great hills? Twenty +years! Man frets and troubles himself through the +third portion of almost his longest day, and the hills +look on silently. Twenty years! Others come and go, +are born and die, marry and have children, strive and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>plan, harass themselves, laugh and weep, rejoice and +mourn, while the hills remain unchanged.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Twenty years! The mountains and the lakes and +the ocean were the same—but the people! Ah! dear +reader, no one but God in Heaven may ever know what +the Irish suffered between the summer’s day on which +this story opened and the summer’s day on which I +take up my pen once more.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a lovely afternoon, towards the latter end +of June. There had been rain in the early morning, +but towards twelve o’clock the clouds dispersed, the +sun broke out, and now, as the mail-coach, bound to +arrive at Duranmore at five o’clock, stopped to change +horses at Calgillan, ten miles distant, the traveller +could not have desired a more beautiful day for his +journey, or a finer country for his eyes to wander over. +Fine, not with cultivation, but by nature. Grand with +hills—well-wooded here and there too—with waterfalls +dashing down the mountain-sides, with rapid rivers +pursuing their course onward to the sea. The road +leading from Calgillan to Duranmore was far the most +picturesque approach to the little town which could +have been selected, and it was because of its beauty +that two English gentlemen chose it for their route.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The younger of these two men had never visited +Ireland before; the elder had been in Connemara +twenty years previously, when he stood for Duranmore +and lost the day. Henry Pryor was coming back, +after all those years, to look at a property which was +for sale near Duranmore, and if he liked, to buy it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Whilst he remained in Connemara he was going to +be the guest of Maxwell Drewitt, Esq., of the Headlands; +and Maxwell Drewitt, Esq., had kindly offered +<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>to extend his hospitality to Mr. Francis Gyton, whose +father was principal in the great firm of Gyton, Lark, +Munday, Hatfield and Company, Austinfriars, London.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Gyton, senior, was a millionaire—Mr. Gyton, +junior, was rather a fast young man, who went down +to the City and “looked in” at the office as seldom as +he could help, whose health required continual absences +from town, and who, consequently, the moment +he heard his uncle intended visiting Ireland, offered to +accompany him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Calgillan was not a town, merely a straggling +village lying among the hills, and Mr. Gyton employed +himself during the time that was occupied in taking +the tired horses out and putting the fresh horses to in +making depreciating remarks concerning the country +and its inhabitants generally. He saw nothing picturesque +except the short petticoats of the women.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Like ballet girls, by Jove!” finished Mr. Gyton, +who pronounced Jove Jauve, and surveyed Irish society +through an eyeglass.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You never saw a ballet girl half so pretty,” answered +a young lad who had travelled with them for +the last thirty miles, and who now stood with his hands +in his pockets leaning against the wall of Joyce’s +Hotel.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And how do you know anything about the matter?” +asked Mr. Gyton, laughing, for he had been tormenting +and chaffing the boy all the way, “you never saw a +ballet girl in your life.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I don’t want to see one,” retorted the other, sulkily; +“but I know our women are prettier than the +English women for all that, and our country is finer +than England. You have no mountains like those +<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>where you came from;” and he pointed away towards +the “Twelve Pins,” which are the Alps of Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; our mountains are twenty times higher,” said +Mr. Gyton, laughing again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I could take you to a place where you might +count a hundred lakes below you,” went on the boy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mill-ponds,” observed the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And you have no such fish in England as we have +at our very doors.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ah! you never tasted whitebait, my boy.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We’re ready now, gentlemen, if you please,” said +the guard at this juncture, and all the passengers +clambered up into their seats.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There’s a team!” Mr. Gyton leaned back from +the box to whisper to the young Irish lad; “why, +there’s not a coachman in England would sit behind +four such sorry nags.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You never saw such a turn-out, at any rate,” answered +the boy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He’s right, sir,” interposed the driver. “Master +Harold’s right. You might travel England and Ireland +through, and never meet with such a turn-out again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The horses are as thin as whipping-posts, and +the harness is falling to pieces; but I should have +thought that no such uncommon sight on this side the +channel,” replied Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But we know—we know better, don’t we, +Master Harold?” chuckled the coachman, bringing his +whip down cleverly on the off leader’s flank as he +spoke.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, Doyle, we know,” answered the boy, and the +pair laughed in chorus.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>“What is remarkable about the turn-out?” asked +Mr. Pryor, who had for some time been watching +Master Harold with considerable interest.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is nothing remarkable; they’re trying to +humbug us, that is all,” said his nephew.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bet you five to one,” retorted the boy, sharply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Done. Who is to hold the stakes?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He may,” agreed Master Harold, pointing to Mr. +Pryor, “and he shall be umpire.” And with that the +lad pulled out five shillings, and placed them in Mr. +Pryor’s hand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Gyton laughed till he almost fell off the coach, +while he laid down his stake.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Now go ahead,” he said; “what is there so remarkable +about Pharaoh’s lean kine?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why, there are four horses—you see them; and +here is Billy Doyle who drives them—you see him; +and the five have only one eye among them, and that +is Billy’s. Did you ever see anything like that in +England?—did you now?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Fairly beaten, Frank,” said his uncle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Done, by Jupiter!” exclaimed the young man +about town. “Here, sir, take your money.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Give it to Bill—I don’t want it,” said the lad, +contemptuously; and he folded his hands tightly together, +and looked away towards the “Twelve Pins” +with as lordly an expression as though he owned them +and the hundred lakes he had spoken of into the +bargain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But they can’t go,” began Mr. Gyton, who considered +Master Harold far too good fun to be left in +peace. “Poor things! they seem as if they hadn’t one +leg among them—as if they were lame as well as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>blind. They are tired already. Do you call such +animals horses in this part of the country?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I was sitting where you are,” retorted the lad, +“I would show you whether they could go or not.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Perhaps you will take the box seat,” suggested +Mr. Gyton, with a delighted chuckle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will if you’ll let me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t, Frank, do not,” entreated Mr. Pryor. “You +are carrying the joke too far,” he added, in a lower +tone; “you do not understand the Irish. Remain +where you are.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Mr. Gyton would not take his uncle’s advice. +They were at the very foot of a hill which rose up +before them steep and straight like the wall of a house. +“I mean to walk up here,” he said, “and if you like +at the top to take my place and the ribbons, you are +welcome to both.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I did not see you offer to drive,” remarked the +boy. “Are you not used to it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not to driving such cattle as the creatures you +call horses. A good English thoroughbred now, or +something of that kind.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, indeed!” said Harold, and they walked on +in silence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Coachman, I say, coachman,” exclaimed Mr. Gyton, +when they reached the top of the hill, “this young +gentleman is going to take my place and the reins, +and means to break all our necks. Keep your one +eye on him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I won’t need, sir. Master Harold is as good a +whip as ye’d find betwixt this and the Shannon; ay, +and faith an’ there’s not a leap a horse could take that +it’s himself couldn’t go over with him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>“I’d like to see him on the back of an English +hunter,” laughed Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And damn me if I would not like to put <i>you</i> on +the back of my father’s chestnut Madcap; you’d be +precious soon off, I’m thinking,” Harold turned round +to answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Take care, Frank, take care,” urged Mr. Pryor, +but his nephew was incorrigible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is the chestnut anything like our blind team, +which you are driving so beautifully?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, she is not; but our team could go faster than +perhaps you would like to travel,” retorted the boy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Try me,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t, for Heaven’s sake!” entreated Mr. Pryor; +but, before the words were well out of his lips, Harold +had knotted up the reins, flung them on the horses’ +necks, and, with an hoorah and a whoop, lashed them +forward down the hill.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Now for Hell or Duranmore,” gasped the coachman, +while the insides screamed, and every outside +passenger held on for his life.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Can Irish horses go now?” hissed out the boy, +turning round to his tormentor, as the coach went +swaying and rocking down the hill.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Every moment the pace increased. Doyle seized +the whip, but he could not stop Harold shouting and +hallooing, and as the horses felt the vehicle gaining +on them they galloped, blind though they were, faster +and faster still.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The collars tightened, and the haime chains were +strained to their utmost, as the creatures drew further +away from one another in their frantic endeavours to +get loose.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>From side to side—bumping, tossing, rolling—the +coach went flying down the incline. If one of the +horses had fallen it would have been all over with the +passengers; but hot iron had never touched the hoofs +of those four blind steeds, and they were sure-footed +as goats.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Down the hill they went; the mountains seemed to +be spinning along with them. Duranmore and the +Bay were now up, now down—now in the depths +of the earth, now on the top of Eversbeg Head—but +at last the level was safely reached, and the bays, +after galloping along for a while, stopped of their own +accord.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s not your fault, Master Harold, that there’s +one of us left alive. If the craythurs had not been +blind it is hard to say when we would have pulled +up,” remarked Doyle, as he descended from his perch +and unfastened the reins, and soothed and patted the +frightened and panting animals, that stood with their +nostrils quivering, with their flanks white with foam.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is it your misfortune, Bill?” asked the lad, +swinging himself to the ground. “I’ll send for the +kit;” and then he looked coolly up to Mr. Gyton, and +hoped he had enjoyed his drive. “It was not the +distance, I suppose, so much as the pace?” he suggested, +and lifting his cap to the two gentlemen, he +turned along the road leading towards Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Who is that—that lunatic?” asked Mr. Gyton, +when the coachman resumed his seat on the box.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That, sir,” answered the man, whose cheeks and +nose were blanched as white as though whiskey had +never reddened them, “is Masther Harold Drewitt; +and I am free to say that a bigger divil niver run.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>“Any relation to Mr. Drewitt, of Kincorth?” inquired +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“His youngest son,” was the reply; and uncle and +nephew exchanged glances.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They sent him to school to quiet him down a bit; +but faith I think he’s come back worse than he went.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Send a goose to Dover, and a goose will come +over,” remarked Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A goose!” repeated the coachman. “It’s not much +of a goose there is about Masther Harold. It’s more +of the cloven foot than the web that’s inside his boots; +an’ it’s a pity, for a kinder-hearted, more spirity, freer-spoken +young gentleman there’s not in Connemara. +But they tell me it’s the mother has spoiled him entirely; +an’ a nice lady she is, too, and homely-like in +her ways, for a foreigner.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Foreigner!” echoed Mr. Pryor, in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, English then, like yourself, sir; shure it’s +all one. The masther married her in London, I think +it was—and well spoken of she is by rich and poor. +Only they do say it’s she spoils Masther Harold: +though some think he would not have been so wild a +divil if he had not been so much at the Headlands: +that’s his cousin’s place, sir, Mr. Maxwell Drewitt, and +a clever gintleman he is. He’s made a sight of money, +and gives plenty of employment.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We are going to the Headlands,” remarked Mr. +Gyton, demurely.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“See that now!—well, as I was saying, you are +going to see a clever gintleman. What he has in his +head nobody would credit; and as for land, I could not +tell all he bought up in the Estates Court. All that +fine farm, that lies down in the hollow after we passed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>Calgillan, is his; and he has a great property, they tell +me, beyond Cragantlet; that is behind the hill there +facing you: and then he has the place that used to be +Mr. Munks’, on the other side of Laddenwell Lake; +and never chick nor child to leave all to. Many a +time I think about that when I see the childer swarming +in and out of the cottages of his labourers. They +say he’d give Cherryfield, the place he bought from +Mr. Munks, to have a son. It seems queer, sir, the +way them things go. I suppose it’s by favour, like kisses.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It will be a deucedly lucky thing for that boy if +he never have any children,” observed Mr. Gyton, +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So Mr. Drewitt thinks, people do say,” answered +the driver. “Maybe, gentlemen,” he went on after a +pause, “ye wouldn’t mind saying nothing to Mr. Maxwell +about Masther Harold’s tricks. It might get him +into thrubble. An’ the lad intended no harm; it’s just +divilment and contrariness.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, we will do the young fellow no harm,” said +Mr. Gyton, “though, as you remarked, it was not his +fault that our necks were not broken; and if you take +my advice you will not trust him with the ribbons +again. What <i>are</i> you considering, uncle?” he added. +“You look as grave as if you had been retained for a +bad case and got an adverse verdict.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I was thinking about that Master Harold,” replied +Mr. Pryor, who had neither wife nor child himself. +“I was thinking about that Master Harold. He +is the very image of what Maxwell Drewitt was twenty +years ago, though there is not much resemblance now.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They tell me Mr. Maxwell never favoured him, +sir,” dissented the driver; “that there’s a kindly look +<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>in Master Harold’s eyes, and a soft winning way with +him, that nobody ever remembered in Mr. Maxwell; +but I ask your pardon, sir, for making so free, and +Mr. Maxwell a friend of your own too.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have only seen him twice in the last twenty +years,” replied Mr. Pryor, “but I can remember very +well what he was the first day we ever met, and that +boy is like him. I could not think who he reminded +me of all the way. Of course,” he added, speaking to +his nephew, “Maxwell Drewitt was a man when I first +saw him, somewhere about my own age at that time, +and this Harold is but a boy; still, the turn of the +head, the tone of the voice, the features, and something +in the expression, are the same. How it carries one +back!” he finished, with a sigh; “how it carries one +back! But here we are at Duranmore, and there is Mr. +Maxwell Drewitt himself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Welcome once more to Connemara,” said that +gentleman, shaking Mr. Pryor’s hand as though he +wanted to shake it off. “See to the luggage, Dickson,” +he added, turning to his servant, and then he asked his +guests which they would choose—to walk or drive.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Walk, if you please,” answered Mr. Gyton. “I +shall be glad to stretch my legs after so much coaching.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And you?” inquired Maxwell, turning to Mr. +Pryor, with a smile at the younger man’s lead.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Should like the walk also,” laughed Mr. Pryor. +“Do you remember all the walks we had along the +bay, twenty years ago?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Twenty years this month,” answered Maxwell +Drewitt. “They have not been long in passing.” +And the trio sauntered down the street together, while +Doyle said to Dickson—</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>“Whose’s them gentlemen, Barney, do ye know?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“One of them is some Mr. Pryor,” said Dickson, +“that stood for Duranmore the time of the great election.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You don’t mane that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you think I’m a liar then?” asked Dickson, +who was of a taciturn disposition and easily annoyed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I don’t think much of the young chap, but if +that’s Mr. Pryor, I wish I was dhriving him ivery day, +and was getting his blissing in silver too.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay, faith, I believe ye. That’s the only blissing +or crossing aither you ever thrubble yerself about.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Which remark being disagreeably true, caused Mr. +Doyle to retire into the “Marsden Arms,” where he +wet Mr. Pryor’s gift with whiskey immediately.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Meanwhile Harold, after parting with his travelling +companions, proceeded along the road which led round +the north side of Duranmore Bay, and wended his way +towards home—now running, now loitering, now +pegging stones at the birds in the trees by the wayside, +now cutting a stick, now decapitating the dandelions +and benweeds, which were plentiful and in +splendid bloom. He was full of life and youth and +strength and spirit. He did not seem to know what +to do with himself for very happiness, and so he would +jump backwards and forward over the ditches and swing +himself up to the first branch of a tree, and then drop +lightly to the ground, in order to let off the superfluous +steam.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A fine lad truly—straight and tall and well-made—with +black hair, dark eyes, white teeth, good +features, and a fine open expression of face. He was +like Maxwell Drewitt, and yet he was unlike. He had +Maxwell’s figure and Maxwell’s face, but he had not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>Maxwell’s impassiveness of muscle, his command of +countenance, his steely self-possession.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A fine lad—one whom his mother idolised and +his father adored. No other autocrat had come to +reign after him; and the love and thought and devotion +bestowed on Harold as a baby were bestowed on Harold +likewise when he was a boy.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Brother and sister and servants were all alike—all +yielded their wills to Harold. It was an understood +thing in the household that Master Harold could +think no wrong, that Master Harold was not to be +crossed, that whatever Master Harold desired was to +be done for him immediately.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Brian had for so long a time given place to Harold +that no person remembered the time when Brian was +anybody. The eldest born was to have Kincorth, and +the younger was to reign over all hearts in consequence. +No one ever seemed to think such an arrangement +harsh or unjust until the boys grew up, +but then people began to remark that Mrs. Drewitt’s +entreaty—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do, Brian. Now cannot you let him have it? remember +he is the youngest,” was heard too often for +much good to come of such training.</p> + +<p class='c013'>The best horse in the stable, the best fishing-rod, +the best gun, had to be relinquished in Harold’s favour +without a murmur; and, perhaps, I cannot say more in +praise of Brian Drewitt than that he never murmured +at this favouritism; that he accepted his lower seat +without a word.</p> + +<p class='c013'>At the gate of Kincorth the brothers ran up against +each other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I was coming to meet you, Haro,” said Brian, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>passing his arm through his brother’s. “I meant to +have been at the cross-roads in good time. Is the +coach early, or am I late?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Both, I should say,” answered Harold. “The +coach was early, for I drove; and you are late, for +some reason best known to yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I had to fetch Doctor Sheen to see papa,” was +the reply. “He’s often ill now. I sometimes think +Sheen does not know what is the matter with him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sheen is a fool!” remarked Master Harold. “Why +don’t you have old Barnes? But doctors are no use, +are they now?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I don’t know,” sighed Brian; “but I wish somebody +would do him some good.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What ails him?” asked Harold; “is it the same +old pain?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I believe so,” answered Brian, and the pair +walked on a little way in silence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I tell you what,” at last broke out the younger +brother; “if I were mamma I’d take him to Dublin; +I would not stand Sheen’s duffing about any longer. +The fellows there could soon find out all about him, +and he’d be ready for the hunting if they set him up +at once.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Harold——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, Brian.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Sometimes I am afraid that nothing will set +him up.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you mean, you think he is going to die?” +Harold asked, with a gradual crescendo.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I hope not—but——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are as bad as old Sheen,” retorted Harold. +“Die—why should he die? he is ten years younger +<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>than Sheen himself, and he’s twenty years younger +than old Mrs. Waller—Waller’s grandmother I mean. +Why you might as well talk about you or me dying +as of him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Don’t say anything to mamma.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>I</i> would be ashamed to repeat such folly,” answered +Harold, with a swagger; “but I shall tell her +to take him to Dublin, and to have done with Sheen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish she could. She was wishing herself she had +money to pay some eminent physician for coming down.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Money—there you go again—money! It is +all nonsense our being short of money. Haven’t we +this, and haven’t we that, and haven’t we hundreds and +thousands and millions of acres beside?” asked Harold.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What is the use of acres if they are all mortgaged?” +demanded Brian. “What is the use of land +if we can make nothing out of it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I declare, Brian, if you go on like that I will +turn straight back to school; you are the most confounded +old croak I ever heard; and I have got such +a lark I want to tell you about. I galloped the horses +down Calgillan Pass, and nearly frightened the wits +out of two English fellows, who thought Doyle’s team +had no blood in them. They shouted for me to stop: +the younger fellow prayed and cursed alternately: the +insides were screeching like pigs a-killing. Old Doyle +could not get the reins, for I had pitched them on the +horses’ necks, and I gave it to them with the whip as +long as he left it with me. Didn’t I, just? and didn’t +they go? We came down the hill with never a drag +on, at the rate of about forty miles an hour; and then +I hoped they had enjoyed their drive. Serve them +right!—teach them to abuse Ireland again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>“You’ll get your neck broken some day to a certainty, +Harold,” said Brian, gravely.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, it can only be broken once, that is a comfort,” +answered Harold.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And did the harness hold?—did no accident +happen?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Devil an accident.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What did Doyle say?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He was frightened to death—thought we were +all going to hell, I believe—old humbug! He was +trembling for his half-crowns I suspect. I hope they +won’t give him a halfpenny! Shall I tell mamma? +Yes, I will, for it would put her all of a shake. No, +I won’t, because she would send word to Doyle never +to let me drive again. There she is at the hall-door +waiting for us;” and both sons started off to reach +her.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Beaten, Brian,” said Harold, disengaging himself +from his mother’s arms, and wiping her kisses away +with his coat-sleeve. He could not bear her to kiss +him. He did not think it looked manly; he was afraid +of anybody calling him a “Molly Coddle,” and he +considered the correct thing would have been for Mrs. +Drewitt to shake hands with him and say, “How are +you, Harold?” instead of “hugging and kissing,” as +the young gentleman put it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A natural enough sentiment for his age and disposition; +and yet, do not be quite so energetic about +the matter, Harold. Let the twining arms hold you, +and the loving kisses remain, for those arms cannot +clasp you always—those kisses cannot be given +twice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There is no need to be ashamed of a mother’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>love, boy; no need to wonder if any one be looking +at that clinging paroxysm of affection.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Do not turn your eyes from her to see if the +servants have beheld your meeting; for you will never +find another on the wide earth to love you like her. +No one hereafter will lie awake at nights wondering +how it is faring with you: no one will ever think of +you in the days to come as she does now: no one in +that vague future stretching away before you will ever +feel her entire world bound up and centered in you.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Do not thrust her love aside, boy; you will stand +in grievous want of it yet: do not wipe her kisses +off your lips; the day is coming when you will lay +your head on her breast and pray for another—and +another yet.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Her love may be foolish, but it is foolish only +because she thinks too much of you.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As man is born of woman, so man in his bitterest +extremity turns back to woman; and ere many years +passed over, Harold asked to listen to no voice beside +his mother’s, to look in no other face save hers, to +hold no hand except that which had so often caressed +him in vain.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He found comfort in the love which was unselfish +in its selfishness; he sought shelter in a heart he had +well-nigh broken; while she, poor soul! while she——?</p> + +<p class='c013'>If Mrs. Drewitt loved him too much, she was +punished; if she were unjust, justice was done; if she +sowed the wind, she reaped the whirlwind; if she made +an idol of him, he showed her his feet of clay; if she +spoiled him, she repented her of it; if she mourned, +the Lord God, in his own good time, brought consolation +to her!</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVIII.<br> <span class='c011'>A little Political Economy.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>The breakfast-room at Headlands faced the east, +and from the large bay-window you could see, over +the trees which grew down to the sea, Eversbeg +Abbey and Eversbeg House, the mountains where the +marble was quarried, and the Twelve Pins far away +in the distance.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Lovely! exquisite!—perfectly enchanting!” exclaimed +Mr. Pryor, looking for the twentieth time +away from his tea and toast, from his ham and eggs, +to the view before him. “It is not reality, Mr. Drewitt; +we must be in fairyland!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Never saw anything more charming put on the +stage,” capped Mr. Gyton; at which remark his host +laughed a little scornfully.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Frank and I do not generally agree in our +opinions,” observed Mr. Pryor; “but on the present +occasion I confess I think he is right. I never saw +anything more charming on the stage nor in a picture, +which is about the same thing. On the stage, as in a +picture, the best part of a scene is given to us, and all +the worst is excluded. What we get is perfect of its +kind, without blemish, without spot; and this scene is +perfect; we could wish nothing more, we could do with +nothing less.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“An unconscious plagiarism from Moore,” remarked +Lady Emmeline from behind the tea-urn, with an engaging +<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>titter. She had had a pleasant life of it during +the fifteen years of her second experiment in matrimony; +but experience had not made her any more +sensible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Indeed!” said Mr. Pryor; “I was not aware.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Of course not—I am sure not,” replied Lady +Emmeline, who prided herself on the extent of her +reading. “So few people know the little poem to +which I refer, It begins”—and Mr. Drewitt’s wife +coughed affectedly and tapped with her fingers on the +table-cloth, and said, “Oh dear! how does it begin? +‘To kneel—’ no; ‘To keep—’ no—how is this?—‘To +weep—’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To damn,” suggested her husband, and Mr. Gyton +grew quite red in the face with his efforts to keep +from laughing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘To sigh, yet feel no pain,’” said Lady Emmeline, +with a swan-like movement of her lean neck; “‘to +weep, yet scarce know why’—the lines I referred to +are towards the end—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c014'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line in4'>“To feel that we adore with such refined excess,</div> + <div class='line'>That though the heart would burst with more, it could not live with less.</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“This is love,” and Lady Emmeline shut her eyes and +repeated the remainder of the poem to herself.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, it may be,” remarked Mr. Drewitt; “I confess +I am no judge; but it sounds to me much more +like folly. What is your opinion, Mr. Gyton?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mine?” exclaimed that young gentleman. “I +know nothing about it. The fact is, love is not in my +way. Ask my uncle; he’s a shocking flirt.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Oh, fie!” said Lady Emmeline, looking immensely +pleased for all that. “Defend yourself, Mr. +Pryor, from such a frightful accusation.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>“Conscious innocence——” murmured Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Needs no advocate,” finished his nephew. “What +a compliment to your clients!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have come here, Frank, to forget my clients,” +answered the other. “Let me enjoy my holiday; let +me imagine I am in Paradise without a serpent +near me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If the garden of Eden had been in Ireland,” said +Lady Emmeline, “poor Eve would never have been +beguiled into eating the apple.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My experience of Eves would lead me to a different +opinion,” remarked Mr. Pryor. “I do not think +the absence of serpents would have secured the safety +of the fruit.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How terribly ungallant!” observed his hostess.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How terribly true!” added her husband.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And besides,” finished Mr. Gyton, “St. Patrick +was not born for a few years after Eve’s petty larceny.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is a sad thing,” said Mr. Pryor, addressing his +host, “that so fine a country should not be more prosperous. +I cannot understand the reason why Ireland +is so far behind England at the present day. You +have soil, climate, labour, fuel, canals, navigable rivers. +It is a perfect puzzle to me.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are wrong in some of your premises,” answered +Maxwell Drewitt; “we have not soil, nor +climate, nor efficient labour. Of course a soil can be +made, and bogs can be drained; but these things require +capital, and Ireland has no capital. If we had +your climate and your capital we could do anything.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But there must be money in Ireland,” Mr. Pryor +persisted.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is money in the North, I suppose,” answered +<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>Maxwell, indifferently; “though even there I +should say great capitalists are almost unknown; and +there may be a few pound-notes in Dublin; but, as a +whole, there is no money in Ireland, for this reason—that +all the money made in Ireland is spent out of it; +that rents are not returned to the soil, but squandered +in England and on the Continent. We never had +many resident gentry, and there are fewer resident +gentry now than ever. Since the famine, this part of +the country, at any rate, has been like the Deserted +Village. People have purchased in the Encumbered +Estates Court who have never seen their properties, +and are never likely to see them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Surely, however, the Encumbered Estates Court +has done good?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I ought to say nothing against it, at any rate,” +answered Maxwell, with a smile, “for I have bought +to great advantage in it.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am sure I thought at one time he was going to +buy all Connaught,” said Lady Emmeline, languidly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Things will be better now, though,” remarked Mr. +Pryor, after acknowledging Lady Emmeline’s observation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will they? What makes you think so?” asked +his host.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The famine must have taught the Irish not to +depend on potatoes,” interrupted Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Would a murrain teach the English not to depend +on beef and mutton?” demanded Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Certainly not; but beef and mutton are not potatoes, +are they?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Potatoes were beef and mutton to the Irish,” answered +the owner of the Headlands.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>“And, good heavens! how can you expect a country +to prosper whose people are satisfied with that cursed +root, as Cobbett called the potato?” asked Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The people here are not at all averse to butchers’ +meat,” Maxwell replied, coolly; “only it is sometimes +true philosophy to be satisfied with what one +can get.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“<i>Quand on n’a pas</i>——” began Lady Emmeline, +but her husband cut ruthlessly across her little observation.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is no man living,” he went on, “can tell +what the cause of Ireland’s misery may be, or where +the best remedy for that misery is to be found. I +thought at one time I had got to the bottom of the +matter. After twenty years’ consideration I have arrived +at the conclusion that I know nothing about it. +Every fact in the country is contradicted by some other +fact.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But surely the reduction of the superabundant +population——” began Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My dear sir, as you came through the country, +did you see any traces of there ever having been a +superabundant population in Connemara?” broke in +Mr. Drewitt. “I hear a great deal of talk about the +blessings of the potato blight, and the good done by +emigration, but I confess I cannot trace the blessing or +see the good.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Potatoes could not, however, be a desirable article +to form the sole diet of an entire population,” persisted +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“They were quite as good as yellow meal,” retorted +Maxwell Drewitt, “and a precious sight more +palatable. I really should like to have some clear +<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>explanation of the benefits this blight has showered +down upon us,” he continued; “for, so far as I can +see, it has only reduced our population a couple of +millions and brought Indian corn to our doors. Is +yellow meal beef and mutton? is yellow meal bread +and butter? is Indian-meal porridge a richer diet than +potatoes and salt?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But wages must be higher,” argued Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Possibly they may be a little,” answered the other; +“But certainly provisions are higher also. Potatoes +are dearer, oaten meal is dearer, all the necessaries of +life to the mass of the population are much dearer. It +is not the potato blight or emigration that has, in my +opinion, caused the slight rise in wages, but simply +that money is not of the same value as formerly. No +terrible calamity has fallen on the whole of England +during the last few centuries, and yet an ox used to +be sold for fewer shillings than it now fetches in +pounds. I repeat what I said at first: plague, pestilence, +and famine have done Ireland no good. What will +do Ireland good remains yet to be seen.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You have mounted him on his hobby now, Mr. +Pryor,” said Lady Emmeline, “and if you do not take +him out he will not get down to-day;” which hint +being sufficiently intelligible, Mr. Pryor asked his host +to show him his improvements, and Mr. Gyton gladly +accepted an invitation from Lady Emmeline to accompany +her over to Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Gyton thought her Ladyship “awful value,” +as he told Harold confidentially, while he considered +her husband confoundedly slow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A demmed blue-book,” was Mr. Gyton’s irreverent +conclusion; “a perfect table of confounded statistics.” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>And Harold laughed and vowed he would tell his +cousin what Mr. Gyton said; while Mr. Gyton was inwardly +thinking he had never seen, in all his life, a +prettier girl than Geraldine Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Meanwhile Mr. Pryor and Maxwell Drewitt walked +by the shore, conversing as they loitered along.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I should like to understand why this country +cannot be made to prosper,” repeated Mr. Pryor, +pausing at last and looking with thoughtful eyes across +the bay. “We in England imagined Ireland’s difficulties +were over; but now, when I come back here, I +see no change. I see the same dress, the same +wretched cabins, the same dunghills, the same weeds. +Excepting your place, I see no improvement anywhere. +Tell me what your idea is of the matter? as a thinking +man you must have formed some opinion on the +subject.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not,” was Maxwell’s reply. “I am as far +at sea as ever. If you told me that unless I could +give a clear account of the cause of Ireland’s misery, +and suggest some means of bettering her condition, I +should be hung to-morrow morning—I must either +string together a parcel of lies, or go to the gallows. +I know no more than an infant where the evil lies, +though I know where it does not lie. Ireland has nothing +to complain of from England now. The English +helped us nobly through the famine, though only about +a quarter of that help reached the poor. We are +fairly taxed, fairly governed. The unprosperous man +never likes the prosperous. If Ireland does not like +England, it is only because England is the rich lady, +and Ireland the poor. Grievances are all rubbish: +very well on the hustings, perhaps, or in a newspaper +<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>leader, but absurd when one talks sober, sorrowful +earnest. I am sorry to see my country limping along, +but I cannot see where the shoe pinches for all that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are satisfied, then, the population was not +excessive?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was not excessive for the country, though it +probably is still excessive for the capital in the country. +A dozen servants may not be too much for one house; +but if there be no money to feed and pay them, what +then?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is precisely what political economists say!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I beg your pardon, political economists say there +were too many people for the soil. You have only to +use your eyes to see that view is erroneous, at any +rate. The population of London, which is about half +that of the whole of Ireland, is not too great for +London, because you can employ your population and +pay them. Here we could employ our population, but +not pay them. Do you see what I mean?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, you want capital; but if capital comes to +Ireland, you shoot its bodily representative.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not been shot.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you are Irish, and you are popular.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No,” said Maxwell Drewitt, slowly. “No, I am +not popular, but I have been cautious. I loved my +life, and I took care of it. I have tried to be just. I +have made no distinction between Catholic and Protestant. +I have never evicted a tenant. I have given +employment. I have assisted the poor. I have fed the +starving. And yet,” he added, “I am not popular. +Explain it how you will.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Pryor thought about what the coachman had +said, but wisely held his peace.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>“There is my uncle,” proceeded Maxwell, “who +has mortgaged and wasted, beggared his tenantry and +himself, ruined his tradespeople and encouraged pauperism, +been a furious bigot and an intolerant Tory. +He is liked better than I am. People would rather +run a mile for a word from him than go across the +street for a shilling from me. I cannot be blind, Mr. +Pryor; these are the facts which puzzle me about +Ireland—which I shall go to my grave and never +understand.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How is your uncle?” asked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But middling,” was the reply. “Middling in mind, +body, and estate. As for the latter, it is going to the +dogs. Nothing can save Kincorth. If he lives long +enough he will have to leave it, and God help the man +who has it after him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why?” inquired Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because an angel from heaven would not give +satisfaction there now. If you bring a new mistress +home to a disorderly household, what is the consequence? +That the household hates the new mistress +who wishes to put things to rights a little. For the +same reason, Kincorth would hate a new master.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But tenants are surely not like servants? They +stand in a different position to their landlord to what +a servant does to his master, and a good landlord must +be felt by them to be a blessing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“True—but there you come round the screw in +the Irish character: they like to be benefited, it is true, +but they must be benefited in their own way. They +love to have their rents remitted, rents lowered; but +they cannot endure a man who wants them to improve +their land and take more out of it; who wishes them +<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>to help him and themselves at the same time. I have +made my money, not by my tenants, but by my labourers. +There is not a man who pays me rent that +has bettered himself or me to the value of sixpence. +If I had to begin again I would not buy an estate +that had tenants on it; because if you evict them you +are likely to get a bullet through your head, and if +you let them stay it is endless worry and trouble. +Besides, there is a something very shocking—look at +the matter how you will—in sending a whole colony +adrift. A man used to a farm of his own will not +become a labourer; and over and above that, the Irish +attachment for place is strong to a degree inconceivable +to an English mind. If you took a small house from +an Englishman and gave him a better he would be +contented I suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He would be a great idiot if he were not,” +answered Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, an Irishman would not be contented. Where +he is planted he grows: he is like a cat; he loves the +walls he has been accustomed to. If you take the roof +off he will still kindle his fire on the old hearthstone, +and sit there with nothing but the sky above him, +cursing the men who have, as he calls it, brought him +and his ‘to the world.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But what are people to do?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Let the tenants stay, as I have done; or, better +still, buy the waste land and reclaim it. I would turn +no man out in this country, because it is better for him +to live poorly off his own labour rather than live poorly +by begging. The thing is this—if you turn a man +out he will not work, and he will neither let you or +anybody else till his land; therefore the land is useless, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>and he is a burden. That is the state of the country +at present; but if capital were introduced into Ireland, +if our waste ground were ploughed, if our cattle were +properly fattened, if the people were taught to eat beef +and mutton, if they could be made to love luxury, if +they could be induced to wear shoes and stockings, +and to live in any house better than a pig-stye—if, +in one word, they could be civilised, I think in another +hundred years things might be better. I only think, +remember, because Ireland is a hopeless problem to me +at present. Had I had English tenants to deal with, +had I had to work with any class of human beings +that wanted to rise in the world, I could have money +in handfuls. I declare to you, Mr. Pryor, I could.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“As it is you have not done amiss, I think,” said +the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have done nothing to what I might have done,” +was the reply; “nothing. I might have owned the +whole tract of country that lies between here and +Bennebeola. Land was to be had in this neighbourhood +at one time almost for the asking; and if I could +have got hands to farm it, and a market for my produce, +I should have been as rich as Rothschild. With me +it was not the want of capital so much as the want +of immediate return for capital and the perfect impossibility +of obtaining labour. Even starvation could +not induce men who had owned little patches of land +to do a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay. They +tired of it; tired of having my bailiffs after them, of +being compelled to turn up the ground in earnest. +My ways were contrary to their ways, my determination +to their prejudices. They could not bear improvement: +they saw in it just what the North American +<span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>Indians saw in civilisation, the downfall of their dynasty +of dirt, laziness, and letting things alone.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And so you had to give up.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So I had to draw in my hand. I had stretched +my arm out further almost than I could draw it back; +and I do not mind telling you that there was a time +when, what with poor’s rates and beggars, and capital +bringing back no return, I was almost ruined. Look +here, Mr. Pryor,” he added; “at that very time I could +have found work for every able-bodied man in this +part of the country. I could not get labourers enough. +It was then I tried Ireland: then all my old ideas +were overset: then I <i>began</i> to understand that the +English were right about us—‘that the fault was in +ourselves.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And you think so still?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do. I cannot tell you where the fault lies, or +what the fault is, but it is in us. I have heard Englishmen +talking about friends of theirs—capital +fellows, honest, clever, and so forth, who yet could not +get on, and wondering what the reason might be. +Well, Ireland is as great an enigma; she cannot get +on. If her sons and daughters go to England or +America they can push their way up, but they will +not push here. We are alike in all ranks. There is +my uncle at Kincorth, and there is his poorest tenant: +they cling together, and love one another, because +their ways are the same, their ideas are identical. +They are both thoroughly Irish: they do not see the +use of ‘taking so much trouble,’ of ‘being so particular.’ +What their ancestors did is surely good enough for +them; and so where the rushes grew a hundred years +ago, they are growing still: where the dungheap was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>piled in their grandfather’s time, it stands fouling the +air to this present day.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you have done so much! I cannot understand +<i>your</i> talking in this manner.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have done much; but mark you, if I were dead +to-morrow, and an Irish gentleman took this place, in +twelve month’s time the lawn would be turned into +grazing, and the weeds would be growing beside the +drive. I go to England and I see velvet lawns, and +clean, well-rolled walks. I come back here and I pay +a visit to any house in the neighbourhood—to Lord +Marsden’s, or your cousin’s, or any gentleman’s residence—and +up to their very hall-doors the grass is +half-a-foot long, and the gravel cuts my boots, and the +weeds grow lank and luxuriant. If the gentry kept +their places in the same order as the English, our +labourers would find employment about our gardens +and pleasure-grounds alone. But we are all alike,” +finished Maxwell, bitterly; “all—all alike.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are all alike in one thing, at any rate,” +answered Mr. Pryor; “in your detestation of trade: you +do not consider buying and selling cattle and farm +produce trading; but you hate mills, factories, shopkeepers, +and merchants.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Till they are rich enough,” replied Maxwell; +“wherein I think we only follow your English lead. +You do not recognize traders as equals till they are +millionaires.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Fairly hit,” laughed his guest.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And as the Irish think more of caste than of comfort, +they would rather, as a rule, live on a little, and +be gentlemen, than earn much, and sink in the social +scale.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>“But as money goes on depreciating in value; as +small incomes, I mean, buy less and less each year; +as birth becomes of less importance, and money, and +what money can buy—education—of more, that +prejudice will vanish.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It may—but it will take a long time first,” was +the answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“To me,” went on Mr. Pryor, “love of pleasure +and indifference to luxuries seem the curse of the +country. To do as little work, to live on as little +money as possible, appears to be the aim and object +of every man, woman, and child I meet. It makes it +a pleasant country to travel in; but I should not care +to live in it all the year round.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you remember,” asked Maxwell, with a cold +smile, “how you were going to right all Ireland’s +wrongs when you stood for Duranmore? Do you think, +if you had got in, you could have done any good for +us?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No,” answered Mr. Pryor, “I do not; and I know +it was a capital thing for me, being beaten. I lost +nearly all my money after I got back to London; and +what I should have done, had I been returned, I really +cannot imagine. As it was, I turned to my profession +with a will; and I have made nearly as good a thing +of law as you have of farming.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“For which reason—and because you are too rich, +too prosperous, too happy—you want to come to Ireland +to be shot?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I hope not! If I buy Durrow Park, I shall take +your advice and not evict a solitary tenant. I will regard +the parents as so many encumbrances, but endeavour +to teach the children better ways.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>“You had better not present them with shoes and +stockings,” counselled Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why? would that be interfering with the liberty +of the subject?” asked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And there is a Holy Well in Durrow Park, to +which, whenever there is a ‘station’ appointed, about +ten thousand people will flock: you had best not meddle +with that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Anything else?” inquired Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, yes; there are a number of fishermen living +under Durrow Cliff who claim the sea-weed as theirs: +it would not be wise for you to have any dispute with +them.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What more?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is a right of way across what is called the +ten-acre field, and the inhabitants of Durrow village +take their donkeys through the grounds at all hours of +the day and night.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Any other advantages?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Durrow Cliff is full of caves: you must never explore +them; and should you hear suspicious sounds +round the coast in the calmest night, you must conclude +it is the Atlantic breaking on the rocks. If you +are wise, you will be kept in brandy free. Many a +keg is left outside the dining-room window at the +Headlands; and as for potheen, I know a place up +among the hills where some of the natives gather +mountain dew in such quantities that I could almost +set up a public-house with the presents that find their +way to me. The constabulary officer sometimes says +my whiskey tastes wonderfully like potheen; but I always +assure them it is sent to me by a friend in the +North.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>“‘Bushmills?’ suggests Captain Ford, mixing himself +another tumbler.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Somewhere thereabouts,’ I answer; and between +us we empty the decanter. There is a still on the +Durrow property, and if you see any smoke rising +without apparent reason, you had better attribute it to +a volcano.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have you exhausted your catalogue of drawbacks?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No,” replied Maxwell; “there was a fellow ejected +by the late proprietor, who has vowed to burn the +house down over the head of the first man who gets +his lot.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What do you mean by a lot?” interrupted Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“A lot,” answered Maxwell, “is so much land let +by the piece instead of by the acre; perhaps a tract of +waste ground containing one hundred acres of morass, +rock, granite and brambles, will let for, say five pounds +a year. Molloy’s case was a hard one, if his story is +to be believed. Three years running he reared three +pigs to pay his rent, and three years running his pigs +died; only one out of the nine lived to be killed, and +the price of that one he offered to Mr. Carford, who +refused to take it.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘All or none,’ he said, and Molloy was ejected. +Now, if you buy Durrow, take my advice and give +Molloy back his house. He is living there on the +hearthstone, like hundreds of others in Ireland. Roof +his house for him, and give him a potato-garden, and +an acre or two of common land for his pigs to run +over.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But would not that look as if I were afraid?”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>“If you had turned him out it would; as you did +not turn him out, it will only make things pleasant for +your agent.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“On the whole, I think I shall not care about buying +Durrow. I tell you a place I should like, if it +were in the market—Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell’s face changed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Kincorth will not be for sale, I fancy,” he remarked.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I thought you said Mr. Drewitt would have to +leave it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So he will; but the mortgagees are likely to take +possession.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Then he is mortgaged?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Mortgaged?” repeated Maxwell. “Swamped would +be a better word, Mr. Pryor. He has never paid a +shilling of interest these four years, and there were +arrears then.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The place could not have been mortgaged for +anything like its value,” remarked the other.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I believe it was not, in the first instance,” answered +Maxwell; and Mr. Pryor looked him straight in +the face.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I suppose I must not guess who will ultimately +take possession of Kincorth,” said Mr. Pryor, a little +significantly.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You can if you like,” answered Maxwell. “Most +probably I shall. I bought up the mortgages long +ago.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is a pity!” exclaimed the other, “for your uncle +was a thorough gentleman, and his wife a charming +creature.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>“Of course, if I am obliged to foreclose, I shall not +require them to leave Kincorth,” said Maxwell, loftily.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will do the same by them as you have done +by your other tenants, I suppose,” remarked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If they allow me,” was the reply; and the two +walked on for a minute or two in silence, while Mr. +Pryor thought that perhaps none of the tenants had +found Mr. Maxwell Drewitt very pleasant to deal with, +spite of his worldly wisdom.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will, I am sure, consider our conversation as +confidential,” said Maxwell, after a pause.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Most assuredly. I have no right to speak about +your business at all.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not that it matters much,” thought Maxwell, “for +the pear is nearly ripe.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIX.<br> <span class='c011'>Durrow.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor had said he should not care for Durrow +Park, but when he rode over there, accompanied by +Maxwell Drewitt, his nephew, and Mr. Waller, he +altered his opinion, and thought that, despite its drawbacks, +Durrow would be a very pleasant residence for +a couple of months in the year. “Non-resident again,” +remarked Maxwell, laughing, while Mr. Gyton inquired—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How the deuce he could expect a man to stay +away from London any longer?</p> + +<p class='c013'>“More especially in such a hole as this, with only +one post a day; with no railway-station within fifty +miles; with no telegram nearer than fifty miles, also; +with no books, no newspapers, no society. And a +bachelor, too,” finished Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is his own fault, I suppose,” remarked Maxwell +Drewitt, “if it be a fault; but I should rather call +it a virtue.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well said,” cried Mr. Waller, who was terribly +under the influence of petticoat government at home.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“For my part, I consider a bachelor one of the +most enviable beings under the sun,” went on Maxwell: +“he can go as he likes, come as he likes. He +is free as air, and yet knows that he can settle down +whenever he pleases into husbandhood.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is not so easy to settle down—at least, not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>to find any one to settle down with at my age,” answered +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why, you cannot be more than a year or two my +senior; and if I were single to-morrow I could have +my pick of a dozen—ay, and pretty girls, too.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish you would introduce me to some of them,” +remarked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am too much your friend,” replied Maxwell; +“far be it from me to lead you up to the trap and +help you to snap the spring on yourself. Wedlock is +a padlock,” added the owner of the Headlands. “Not +that I ought to speak against it, for my marriage made +me; and my wife never had a will of her own, so far +as I heard of; but for an independent man to marry—for +a man like yourself, for instance—it is folly.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Drewitt is going to turn preacher, and expound +the Gospel according to St. Paul,” said Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I shall hold you up as an example of a sinner’s +end then,” retorted Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Hang it, man, you need not be so confoundedly +personal!” observed Mr. Waller, whose domestic discomforts +were too well known for him to attempt concealment. +“It is not everybody knows how to marry +so well, or manage a wife so well when he is married, +as yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell looked away from his companions over +the ocean, and a thought came across his mind that he +had not married so very well after all.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had given his youth—his liberty—all chances +of happy love, for money; and now he could not get +rid of his wife—could not get rid of that old, rouged, +affected, ugly woman, who was jealous of every look +he cast in the direction of those who were younger and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>prettier than herself; who had no homely graces, no +fireside virtues; whom he could not even love like a +mother and value as a friend.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Forty-three and sixty—seventeen years on the +wrong side. It was of this Maxwell thought while he +stood in front of Durrow House, and looked over the +Atlantic which lay like a lake below.</p> + +<p class='c013'>They were four fine-looking men. Maxwell was +much the same in figure as when we first saw him, +but his face was more set and hardened; the lines +were deeper, the look in his eyes was darker. He was +getting a little bald, that is, the once-luxuriant hair +was thinner, more especially about his temples, and his +whiskers were turning grey. He was the oldest-looking +man of the party, though Mr. Pryor was a year his +senior; but then Mr. Pryor’s life had not been so hard +a one, and his heart was younger too.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Pryor’s face was one that his sister said “it +rested her to look at,” so calm, so trustworthy, so +good. Maxwell Drewitt had lived twice as fast as this +London barrister, and would be old twice as soon.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Some idea of this kind came into Mr. Waller’s +mind, apparently, for he said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wish I looked as young as you do, Geoffry. I +wish you could give me the secret of wearing so well +and keeping so handsome:” at which remark Maxwell +Drewitt turned round and laughed.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I know what you are laughing at,” went on Mr. +Waller; “you are thinking that one must be handsome +before one can keep handsome. That is the worst of +being clever, Drewitt; it makes a man so devilishly +sharp and disagreeable: but, now, do look at Pryor; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>there was not so much difference between us twenty +years ago, and yet——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is all the difference now—is that what +you would say?” asked Maxwell. “If it be, perhaps +there has been all the difference in the twenty years +too; in how the twenty years has been passed. You +have drunk hard, I have worked hard, while he has +been addressing an attentive court or lounging in an +easy-chair. It is the pace that kills, Waller, more than +years.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“As for pace,” muttered Mr. Waller, but a dangerous +look in Maxwell’s face stopped him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We can but live,” said the latter, hastily; “if we +grow old soon, we have lived much, that is all any +one can make of the question; and yet,” he went on, +“I think it must be a fine thing for a man in middle +age to find himself free to begin the whole drama of +existence over again. Free to settle, free to choose, +free to reside in a great town; and yet, also, free to +buy a place like this and keep it for a kind of dessert +to the dinner of the year. You will buy it?” he added, +turning to Mr. Pryor. “Can you resist?—can you +look upon Durrow and yet flee from such temptation?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot,” answered Mr. Pryor: “spite of right of +way, and private stills and smugglers, and evicted +tenants, and holy wells, I must have Durrow.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And we will get a jolly lot of fellows together, +and come over and have such capital sport,” finished +Mr. Gyton, who had kept silence for an unusual time.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Thank you, Frank, you are very kind,” replied +his uncle.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And you might get my mother to matronize halfa-dozen +<span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>girls; it would be such a lark,” went on Mr. +Gyton; “dancing and boating, and riding and driving.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No fear of the rents of Durrow being spent off +the soil,” said Mr. Pryor, “if Frank’s programme were +carried out. I should spend as much in a couple of +months as Durrow would return in a year.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“First-rate for Connemara,” answered Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will write to my mother to-night,” persisted +Mr. Gyton, “and give her a description of Durrow. It +is the very place she would delight in. Let me see, +how can I describe it? Help my imagination, Mr. +Drewitt.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Your imagination!” repeated Maxwell; “gracious +heaven! there is no imagination about the matter; it +is all fact, from beginning to end. There are the +rocks, and the Atlantic, and the islands; and Durrow +stands, say a hundred feet above the sea, and the +ground is level from the house to the very edge of the +cliff, which goes sheer down to the shore. There are +no trees to speak of, no shrubs, no fields; it is all rock +and mountain, and bog and morass. It is a place to +make your teeth chatter in the winter-time; but in the +summer—you see for yourself, young gentleman, what +it is like now.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Cannot you buy the place at once, and let us all +spend August here?” asked Mr. Gyton, with enthusiasm.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am afraid not,” said Mr. Pryor, with a smile; +“but I dare say I can have it all ready for your +mother by the spring.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And if you want a good fellow to manage your +property and to reside in the house while you are +away, let me recommend you a deserving man. His +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>name is Connor; and he has been overseer at the +marble quarries for sixteen or seventeen years past.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What—Ryan’s brother-in-law!” exclaimed Mr. +Waller, with some surprise.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Even so; do you know anything against Connor?” +demanded Maxwell, facing sharp round on the last +speaker.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; only you remember that you thought—that +is—that Ryan himself—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ryan himself is not Connor,” interrupted Maxwell; +“and Mrs. Connor is a very worthy person.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And pretty too,” added Mr. Waller “though she +is not so young as she used to be. By Gad! Geoffry, +that was a girl! If she had been more thoroughbred +she might have married a duke. Faith, I thought she +stayed single so long waiting for some travelling prince +to pick her up and carry her off with him. She must +have been thirty before she took on with Connor; eh +Drewitt?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am not the parish clerk, sir,” answered Maxwell, +hotly. “I do not keep a register of births in my +head;” and with this civil speech the owner of the +Headlands marched off to the edge of the cliff, where +he flung himself down on the grass, and with one +hand supporting his head, looked away and away over +the sea across which white sails were glancing in the +sunshine.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What a damnable temper Drewitt has!” remarked +Mr. Waller. “I am sure it is just wearing his body +out,” and the trio turned into the house and walked +through the empty rooms, and looked at all possible +views, from all possible windows, discussing furniture +and papers, and carpets and window-curtains the while.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>After a time Mr. Pryor made his escape, and rejoined +his host, and the two lay on the grass, near the +edge of the cliff, talking about Duranmore, and Kincorth +and Durrow, and Ireland and England, for nearly +an hour.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is another thing,” said Maxwell, at last; +“the last proprietor, Mr. Carford, was a Roman Catholic, +and almost supported the priest of Durrow, besides +paying tithes. Will you follow suit? I know +that to English ears such advice must sound absurd; +but, after all, the few things I have mentioned will not +amount to a hundred a-year, and you will have five +hundred a-year back in comfort. You cannot civilize +a country in a day. You must give savages beads, +and rum, and looking-glasses, if you take their land +from them. They cannot understand the substance, +so you must let them have the sham. I should like to +come back to life in a hundred years’ time, say about +1950, and see Ireland then. Will there be butchers’ +shops in a place like Duranmore, where the poor people +will buy scraps for their Sunday’s dinner, as the Londoners +do on Saturday night? Will yellow meal be a +tradition, and the cup of tea an institution? Will the +people wash themselves, and the women wear their +flannel petticoats under their dresses instead of round +their necks? Will the bare feet be covered? Will +the children drop off their rags some night, and put +on clean cotton frocks, like English children, when +they get up in the morning? Will they comb their +hair, and scrub their faces, and eat with a knife and +fork? Will the men who drive the sheep into Ballinasloe +fair ever know by experience what number of +joints there are in one? Will they ever have wooden +<span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span>floors? and if they have, will they keep them clean? +I wonder, Mr. Pryor, I wonder! And yet,” added +Maxwell, “if that day ever do come, Ireland will he +Ireland no longer, but only a more picturesque England—a +Cumberland, in fact, across the channel.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“On the whole, perhaps, you would not care to +come back after the hundred years,” suggested Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, I should. I should like to have my land +then, and to be able to sell it at the 1950 market +price. A hundred years!—where shall we be then? +where shall we be?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Certainly not on the top of Durrow Cliff, talking +about Ireland,” answered Mr. Pryor, gravely. There +was something about the fierce tone of Maxwell’s +question which quivered through every nerve in his +body.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is he afraid of death?” marvelled the barrister, +and even while he was marvelling, Maxwell spoke +again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I can remember,” he said, “when I was a boy +coming across here with my father, and walking over +the very spot where we are now talking, hand in hand +with him. It was just such another day as this, warm +and bright and clear; there were vessels coming and +going; the sea was blue and calm; the fishermen were +drying their nets in the sun. Well, the years have +passed since then—passed like days. I have been +lying here thinking how short a day life is after all, +and wishing that we could endure through the centuries +like the mountains, or the ocean yonder.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It would be very sad if we could, I think,” answered +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>“Do you really mean what you say? But we are +so differently constituted that one man’s meat is literally +another man’s poison. To me it has always +seemed that life is so short, while there is so much to +be done in the world.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay! but by successive gangs of labourers,” replied +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Shall we go?” asked Mr. Maxwell Drewitt, hastily +springing to his feet. “Have you seen enough of +Burrow? Shall we call at Kincorth as we return, and +ask how my uncle is to-day?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I should like to call on Mr. Drewitt,” said the +other. “The last time I saw him he was lying on +Doctor Sheen’s bed, with his pretty young wife nursing +him. I suppose twenty years has changed them both.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It has changed everybody excepting you, Geoffry,” +exclaimed Mr. Waller, who heard the last words. “I +think you must be one of the immortals.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It has changed me, Harry,” was the reply, +spoken sadly, though with a smile. “Twenty years +lie behind instead of before me; that is all the difference; +but, after all, that difference is considerable.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was a long way from Durrow to Kincorth—ten +Irish miles to ride, though probably not more +than four, had the road followed the flight of the +crow.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But what road in Connemara ever did follow the +flight of the crow?” demanded Mr. Waller; whereupon +Maxwell asked what engineer could bridge the bays, +and make a way through the rocks and precipices.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Besides,” added Mr. Gyton, “to a man not pressed +for time, the windings in and out are pretty and picturesque: +but only fancy, uncle,” he said, turning to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>Mr. Pryor, “how one would curse these curves and +turnings if one were riding for one’s life, or for a +doctor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Maxwell Drewitt seemed impressed with this idea. +“I never thought of that before,” he observed; “but +then, I suppose, no man ever did ride for his life +through Connemara. It would be all foot-work over +the hills.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And yet when they rounded the base of another +mountain, as they turned another corner sharply, Maxwell +pulled up.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I cannot get that notion of yours out of my +head,” he said, noticing that the others pulled up also. +“Riding for one’s life—what a strange fancy!”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I tell you what is a strange fancy to my mind, +Drewitt—going to a sick man’s house with six horses +and two servants, like a troop of dragoons,” exclaimed +Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We need not ride up to the hall-door,” answered +Maxwell; while Mr. Pryor said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well thought of, Waller; we might have had +enough sense for that ourselves.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But we had not, you see,” summed up Mr. Gyton, +and the four rode on abreast.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I never pass that old ruin,” said Mr. Waller, +pointing to a tower and some walls belonging to an +ancient castle lying back among the hills, “but I think +of Murphy. You remember Murphy, don’t you, +Drewitt, that used to be with Sheen?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I remember some fellow of that name, but what +the devil had he to do with Castle Cronach?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why, there was a squireen lived at that house in +the hollow, where the honeysuckles are growing, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>he had a wife who used to drink tremendously—spent +every farthing on whiskey, and sold everything +she could lay her hands on to get more. The poor +fellow was almost at his wits’ end what to do about it +(she did drive him to America in the long run), and +so he went to Murphy for advice in the matter.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Could the doctor give him nothing?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Is it poison you need?’ said Murphy; ‘because if +it is, say so like a man.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Of course it was not poison he wanted, but only +some trifle to cure her of drinking. Could Mr. Murphy +not mix her up something?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘If we could mix up anything to cure that disorder,’ +says Murphy, ‘we should be made men: but I +tell you what, take home a gallon of whiskey, and let +her drink as much as she likes, and I will be round +with you before night.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It was in the summer-time, but not moonlight, +and when the woman was thoroughly drunk, Murphy +and the husband carried her down into the vaults of +that old castle and laid her down on some boards till +she should come to.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I suppose she never ‘came to?’” suggested Mr. +Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Didn’t she, though? but she had a good sleep +first, and when she woke about twelve o’clock she began +calling out and asking where she was.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Well, you are in the vaults underneath Eversbeg +Abbey, ma’am,’ Murphy says.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘And how long have I been here?’ she inquired.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘A matter of ten or twelve months,’ he answered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Then I’m dead, in course?’ she says.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘As a doornail,’ wound up Murphy.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>“‘And are you dead too?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Yes, ma’am.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘And how long have you been here?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Somewhere about five years,’ he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Then we are all dead?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘Yes.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“She sat down on the floor and thought the matter +out a bit. Murphy said he could not imagine what +she would say next, and was just trying to fancy, +when she began—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘You must know the ways of his country a good +deal better than me. Where can you get a drop of +good whiskey now, reasonable?’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘That floored me,’ Murphy finished. ‘Squire,’ +said he, ‘you’d better take your wife home; if she +thinks there are whiskey-shops in Hades, it is of no +use trying to frighten her with death. Take her home +and let her live.’</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And he let her live; but she ruined him and died +a beggar in Spanish Place, in Galway.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wonder what has become of Murphy?” said +Maxwell, while they rode, with loose bridles, at a +slinging trot over the hard Connemara roads, neck and +neck together, hoofs keeping time, all four abreast; the +Irishmen with their feet well in their stirrups, riding +only on the snaffle, bending a little over their horses’ +manes; the Englishmen sitting more stiffly and more +erect in their saddles, with only their toes in the irons, +holding both bridles equally in their hands.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There is not much in these things perhaps, but +there is something, and the grooms riding behind remarked +the difference, as all Irish people do.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Murphy is, I hear, doing very well indeed, in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>London,” answered Mr. Waller. “He was a clever +fellow, a man who loved you for your ailments, who +adored a complicated case, who—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Murphy!” repeated Mr. Gyton; “Murphy! a Mr. +Murphy was telegraphed for once when my father met +with an accident at Tunbridge Wells—an awful +curiosity—he attended him afterwards in London. I +remember the man perfectly. A long, loose fellow, +with rusty hair and greenish-grey eyes, and an astonishing +brogue. Is it likely to have been the same?” he +asked, turning towards Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Had he tremendous legs and no body to speak +of, arms like flails, and a habit of turning his side to +you when he spoke?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes; and there was no one place where his clothes +seemed to fit him. He was all joints, too, and he used +to turn up his coat-cuffs and the wristbands of his shirt +before he felt my father’s pulse. I remember tooling +him over to the station one morning, and he kept me +in screams all the way. He used to take people’s legs +off ‘In the name of God.’ We never ceased laughing +from the time he came into the house till he went out +of it. He told us lots of stories about the notions of +the Irish concerning physic—how they considered +doctors liked red-haired men the best for ‘cutting up’—how +they thought rhubarb was a decoction of dead +bodies—how they believed fever came up the road +in a ‘swirl’ of dust, and entered the house where it +was destined to prove fatal like a visible simoom—how +they believed in ‘possessions’—how he was told +of a spirit who threw a bad man down stairs and broke +his arm, and then called out to him, ‘I have not done +with you yet.’ ‘And they went on to recount,’ added +<span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>Mr. Murphy, ‘how the spirit twisted his head round on +his shoulders, and how, for the future, whenever he +walked forward, the back of his head came first. That +was a case I should like to have attended,’ he finished. +‘I candidly confess I should.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It must have been our Murphy,” said Mr. Waller; +“there could not be two of the same kind of the same +name.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“This man was born in Roscommon, wherever that +may be; for I remember him telling me the morning +I went over with him to the station, that when the +examiners were asking him for a certificate of baptism, +he said—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“‘And, my God, gentlemen, do you know so little +about Ireland in England as to ask a man from the +County Roscommon for a certificate of his birth? I +have heard my mother, and a decent old woman she +was too as ever brought up a family on potatoes and +buttermilk, say I was born the day Widow O’Flynn’s +cow was lost in the bog, and that is all the information +I can give you on the subject.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What is he, surgeon, or physician, or what?” inquired +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Surgeon,” answered Mr. Gyton. “My mother +asked him something about it, and he said, ‘If you +want a leg or an arm taken off I shall be most happy +to oblige you, ma’am; but pills and potions are out of +my line altogether.’ I had enough of physic in Connaught +to last me my lifetime, and I prescribe for +nobody. Operative surgery, ma’am, is enough for me; +“<i>Satis supraque;</i>” which being freely translated, for I +won’t insult a lady of your position by supposing you +understand Latin, means, ‘Lashins and Lavins.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>“How the devil,” demanded Maxwell Drewitt, “does +such a fellow contrive to make his way into any respectable +house?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Gyton looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is nothing to prevent Mr. Murphy entering +any house in England,” he answered, a little stiffly. +“Perhaps the Irish are more exclusive. He stands +very well in his profession; has a very good house in +one of the West-end squares; and though he is eccentric, +he is not more eccentric than many of our +first-rate men have been.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“John Hunter, for instance, was not merely eccentric, +but vulgar,” chimed in Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, Murphy was never vulgar,” said Mr. Gyton. +“He never said a word to which you could have taken +exception, and then he always brought such a cheerful +face with him that he was half the cure himself.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Was that the person who was Dr. Sheen’s assistant +at the time of the Duranmore election?” asked +Mr. Pryor, looking towards Maxwell Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The same; a fellow without a second coat to his +back, and possessed of no one single talent except impudence,” +was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He must have put out his capital to great advantage, +then,” said the barrister dryly, “for it to have +produced such results.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He married well,” explained Mr. Gyton; “he married +a rich old maid, who was, I believe, the first +paying patient he ever had in London, and that gave +him a lift. Anyhow,” added Mr. Gyton, “he is a +rising man now.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>They had been walking their horses up a steep +hill during the latter part of this conversation, but as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>the young Englishman concluded his sentence they +reached the top and saw Duranmore lying in the hollow +below them. Duranmore and the road branching off +to Kincorth!</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I wonder how we shall find my uncle to-day,” +said Maxwell, looking at the woods in which the house +lay sheltered; “perhaps if Mr. Murphy were here now +he could cure him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is Doctor Sheen not able to do so then?” inquired +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It would seem not,” was the answer, “for he +grows worse rather than better,” and Maxwell Drewitt, +after they got to the foot of the hill, gave his bridle a +shake, and the rest taking the hint touched their horses +lightly with whip and spur, and followed him at a hand +gallop along the shore road to the entrance-gates of +Kincorth.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XX.<br> <span class='c011'>A Little Leap.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>A man may be very nearly ruined and yet make +few signs: Mr. Drewitt was close on the edge of the +precipice, but still he uttered no cry. To have ridden +through the gates, to have passed the porter’s lodge, +to have reined in your horse and alighted at the beginning +of the avenue, and to have walked beneath +those over-arching trees up to the house, no person +could have imagined the end so nigh at hand.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And yet Kincorth had virtually passed away from +Archibald Drewitt and his family. He was only now +waiting for the end—only—ah, me!</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was growing old, his health was broken, his +hopes were gone, but still at times the cheery buoyant +spirit of old would return to inspire him with fresh +courage.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“When the boys grow up they will see to things,” +he would mutter to himself. “Brian will be a great +man yet, and Harold, God bless the boy, he may rise +to anything he likes.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>So with ruin only waiting without to enter, involved +beyond all hope of extrication, swamped with +debt, harassed with duns, Archibald Drewitt still clung +to the delusion that Kincorth would never pass away +from him—that something would still turn up, that +his creditors would give him time, that his sons would +save the property, and do as well for themselves as +Maxwell Drewitt had done for himself.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>“You must make haste and be a man, Harold,” +he was wont to say to his youngest born, and Harold +would reply—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am a man now, father, what would you have +me do?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Over the broad avenue the trees bent their long +branches; across the drive their arms met and intertwined. +The place was lovelier than ever, for the +timber had grown and grown during the twenty years, +and the sunbeams had to steal their way through closer +tracery of leaf and twig and bough to the grass +beneath. The shrubs grew luxuriantly, the flowers +were bright under the summer sky; the house itself +looked gay and cheerful, with every window reflecting +back the afternoon sunshine, and Maxwell Drewitt, as +he walked up the ascent, felt already the pride of a +possessor, and pointed out the beauties of Kincorth +with a certain triumph which was intelligible enough, +and sad enough, to Geoffry Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will be merciful, I hope,” he said in a low +tone aside to Maxwell Drewitt, “in the hour of your +strength.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have I not said?” was the reply, and they all +passed on together.</p> + +<p class='c013'>In an arm-chair placed on the lawn before the +house, an old grey-haired man was seated so busily +engaged in reading the newspaper that he took no +heed of the approaching strangers.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is that your uncle, Mr. Drewitt?” inquired Mr. +Pryor. “Can that be he?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“That is he,” Maxwell answered. “Twenty years +have done their work with him, have they not?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Had they not indeed? Feeble, bent, emaciated, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>but still with the same old grace of manner, with the +same frank heartiness as had won his young wife’s +heart and kept her love through all those years fresh +and green as ever, Archibald Drewitt rose to meet his +visitors.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will scarcely recollect me, sir,” said Geoffry +Pryor, holding out his hand, which the old man took +cordially.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I do not recollect you,” he answered, “but you +are welcome, whoever you may be.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is Mr. Pryor, uncle,” said Maxwell, “Mr. +Pryor, who stood for Duranmore long ago; don’t you +remember?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, yes,” exclaimed Mr. Drewitt. “Yes, yes, +you are coming over to buy Durrow, I hear: but have +a care, sir, have a care. Ireland is not what it used +to be. The old families are ruined, and the fresh +owners are not gentlemen, and the people have acquired +new-fangled notions, and the breed of horses is deteriorating, +and our best tenants are gone to America. +Ah! well, it was God’s will I suppose, and we ought +not to grumble; but an old man finds such changes +hard to bear. Won’t you come in, Mr. Pryor? Maxwell, +show Mr. Pryor the way.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But Geoffry Pryor declined Maxwell’s guidance, and +remained behind with Mr. Drewitt, who walked feebly +towards the house.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am not so young as I used to be,” he remarked, +“and the famine was a terrible affliction to us owners +of property as well as to the poor. I know it aged me +a dozen years,” he said, taking Mr. Pryor’s proffered +arm and leaning on it as he walked. “And so you +are the young fellow who gave us so much trouble +<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>twenty years ago? Ah! the last election was a tame +affair—there are no elections now like what there +used to be.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>They were by this time in the drawing-room, and +Mr. Pryor left his companion for a moment while he +spoke to Mrs. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Would he have recognized her? Certainly not; and +looking at her hair, which had threads of grey in it; +at her eyes, which were not so bright as they had +been; at her hands, which were plump no longer, but +thin and worn; at her face, which was wrinkled and +altered—Mr. Pryor turned coward for the moment, +and wished he had never come back to Duranmore to +see such changes as these.</p> + +<p class='c013'>But there were other changes, and not disagreeable +ones either: there were the boys, unborn when he stood +for Duranmore, tall, strong, and handsome; and there +was Geraldine! I had better say at once that Mr. +Pryor fell in love with the girl on the spot, and so save +myself any lengthened description of his state of mind.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is not she pretty, uncle?” asked Mr. Gyton, the +first opportunity he found of putting the question. “Is +not she pretty?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Pretty!” echoed Mr. Pryor; “she is perfection.” +And so I think Geraldine was; perfect in every womanly +grace, in every womanly beauty, yet not so handsome +as Harold, who never left Maxwell’s side for a moment, +but stood beside his chair, talking to him, laughing +with him, and evidently longing for the invitation +which his cousin at last gave.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will come back with us to dinner? You can +ride Trumpeter, and Dickson shall walk.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have got my own horse, thank you,” returned +<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>the young king, with a grand air of proprietorship. +“I can have the saddle put on Madcap in five minutes.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What!” exclaimed Mr. Maxwell Drewitt; “do you +ride Madcap now?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, my father says he is never likely to want +her again. I say Max,” and here the boy lowered +his voice to a whisper, “do you think he is so very bad?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not a bit of it. His life is good enough for +twenty years yet. If you are coming with us,” he +added in a louder tone, “you had better tell them to +bring round your horse. We did not know how ill +you might be, sir” (this to his uncle), “and so left our +nags at the lodge.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am better to-day, thank God,” answered Mr. +Drewitt, “much better. I have been ill, but it is +nothing to signify, nothing.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think, Harold, you ought not to go down to +the Headlands this evening,” said Mrs. Drewitt, gently, +as the boy passed her on his way out to the stables, +“and I hope you will not in any case ride that hunter.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Pooh! Agnes,” exclaimed her husband, “what can +that signify? Harold could ride any horse I ever saw, +and the exercise will do him good.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But he will be out so late,” urged Mrs. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You cannot get all boys to come home like young +chickens at sundown,” said Maxwell, scornfully. “Go +and get your horse, Harold. I am sure your mother +is too wise a woman to wish to keep both her sons tied +to her apron-strings.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>But still Harold hesitated.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There is no danger, my dear, indeed there is +not,” said Mr. Drewitt; and then his wife added, “You +may go, Harold,” but she spoke the words with a sigh.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>“Are you not coming with us too?” asked Mr. +Pryor, addressing the elder brother.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have not been asked,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But your cousin surely——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Does not want me,” interrupted Brian, and Mr. +Pryor was silenced.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You will come and dine with us?” said Mr. Drewitt +to his visitor, holding Mr. Pryor’s hand almost affectionately +in his own. “Agnes, my dear, these gentlemen +will fix a day. It had best be soon, before I +have another attack. You will see to it, Maxwell; you +will let us know?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, sir, I will let you know,” answered Maxwell; +and then he muttered something about not thinking it +had been so late, and that Lady Emmeline would be expecting +them, as an excuse for hastening their departure.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will see you to your horses,” said Brian, gravely, +taking up his hat; and while Harold went cantering +off over the grass, the elder brother walked down the +drive, talking to Mr. Pryor as he went.</p> + +<p class='c013'>As a matter of habit he felt the horses’ girths, as +a matter of habit also he patted the horses’ necks, as +a matter of courtesy he waited till each man was in +his saddle, till Harold had joined the party and was +expatiating in the most boastful manner concerning the +fine points of the young mare he was riding; then +Brian laid his hand on Maxwell’s rein and detained +him for a moment.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Well, Master Brian, and what can I do for you?” +asked Maxwell, with a sneer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I want to know, sir,” and Brian’s hold of the rein +grew tighter; “I want to know how you dare speak to +my mother as you do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span>“You are ruffling up your feathers early, young +gentleman,” retorted his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Birds who have feathers have sometimes also spurs,” +was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“When a bird’s spurs are too sharp to serve our +purpose, we cut them,” answered Maxwell. “Let me +pass, boy,” he added, angrily. “Let me rejoin my guests.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“One second,” said Brian; but Maxwell wrenched +his hand off the bridle, and striking his horse with his +heel, for he wore no spurs, galloped on to overtake +his companions.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It does not matter now,” Brian said to himself, as +he stood looking after his cousin; “I can wait.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>And you had but to see Brian Drewitt to feel sure +he could wait from boyhood to manhood—from youth +to age, till the hour of his revenge came.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Meantime Harold was leading the way towards +Eversbeg. He could scarcely hold the chesnut to any +reasonable pace, and, even as it was, the brute went +dancing and curvetting about the road like a mad +thing; and as she danced and kicked and curvetted, +Harold turned round in his saddle, and laughed back +at his companions for very pride and happiness.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He rides splendidly,” said Mr. Gyton, whose +equestrian performances were as nothing compared with +those of this wild Irish lad.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So he may,” answered Maxwell; “he rode from +the time he walked or thereabouts, I think. I can remember +seeing Harold riding his father’s hunters barebacked +round the field when he was so little, a man +had to lift him up to his seat. The boy never knew +fear. I have found him many a time among the horses’ +feet in the stable, hugging them, and they never put a +<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>hoof on him. That is what makes a man a rider. I’ll +be bound now Harold could manage that devil just as +well without saddle or stirrup, with nothing on her but +a surcingle, and nothing in her mouth but a common +bit. Harold!” he shouted, and Harold rode back, while +the mare kicked her best and laid her ears flat on her +neck because he would not give her her head and let +her make for Kincorth as though she were running a race.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Would you take the mare over that hedge and +fence at the Headlands barebacked?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>For a moment the boy looked grave. He held +the reins in one hand while he put the other behind +him on the saddle, and so leaned round towards his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It’s a stiff leap, Max,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I know that. Do you think she is able for it? +I should like to show those gentlemen what an Irish +horse can do.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I should not like anything to happen to her, you +know,” remarked Harold. “I only got her yesterday.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If anything happens to her you shall have Trumpeter,” +said his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It is not that—it is not that,” the boy said +hesitatingly; “but I think she can do it, Max, don’t +you?” and he brightened up.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do it—of course she can; but will you do it +barebacked?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If Madcap can go over it, I can,” was the answer; +but Geoffry Pryor broke in—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would not see you do it for any money if it be +that ditch and hedge beyond the gardens; don’t attempt +it, Harold. I am sure you could stick on, and I am +sure the mare could take the leap; but still—”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Still what?” demanded Harold.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>“Accidents will happen,” was the reply, and the +pair looked at each other for a moment, Harold manifestly +wavering.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“So they may riding along the Queen’s highway,” +said Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you really wish him to take such a leap?” +Mr. Pryor inquired; and Maxwell answered coolly, “I +do not like to see a boy a milksop.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I’m not a milksop, at any rate,” burst out Harold; +“we’ll show them how we can take our fences, won’t +we, old girl?” and the boy patted the mare’s neck, +which she arched as consciously and proudly as though +she knew what her rider said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Isn’t she a beauty—isn’t she, now?” Harold +said, addressing Mr. Gyton. “My father was offered +two hundred and fifty guineas for her the other day +and would not take it. Think of that.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Have you found a gold mine anywhere about +Kincorth?” asked Maxwell, sharply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Not that I know of; why do you ask?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I thought you must have done, when your father +could refuse a sum like that for a horse.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He said he would rather I had her,” answered +the lad; but the colour came into his cheeks, and unless +Geoffry Pryor were greatly mistaken, the tears into +his eyes, as he pulled Madcap to one side, and let Maxwell +get on in front.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think the Irish are the strangest sort of people +under the sun,” decided the lawyer; and he worked +away at this puzzle of race and constitution and temperament +till they arrived at the Headlands.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Are you not going to see the leap?” asked Maxwell +Drewitt, noticing that he turned to enter the house.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_303'>303</span>“Thank you, no,” he replied; “if anything happened +to the boy, I could never look his mother in the +face again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Nonsense!” retorted Maxwell, “nothing can or +will happen; he was only afraid of the mare; and if +she should make a mess of it, without saddle or stirrups +he is safe enough. Come along; he will take the +fence anyhow now, and you may as well be there to +see fair play.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>In his heart Geoffry Pryor wanted to see that leap +taken; he wished to know if the boy would flinch—if +his heart would fail.</p> + +<p class='c013'>This problem of weakness and strength, of timidity +and courage, interested him immensely; and accordingly +he suffered himself to be persuaded, and walked +down with Maxwell to the field, where Harold was +already cantering the mare up and down to quiet her +for the leap.</p> + +<p class='c013'>I wish I could bring that summer scene before you, +my reader, as Geoffry Pryor often recalled it to himself +when he was back in London hard at work among +his briefs.</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was the smooth, soft turf; there was the +calm blue bay; there was the village of Eversbeg and +the evening sun shining down upon it; there were the +fast-growing trees Maxwell had planted, standing still +and quiet in the rich, warm light; there was the house, +covered with climbers and creepers, with ivy and +honeysuckle, with roses and myrtles; there were the +gardens, well sheltered from the north and east; and +for foreground there was the hedge and ditch, over which +Master Harold Drewitt purposed taking his new possession.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Had not you better think twice about it, Harold?” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_304'>304</span>asked Mr. Pryor, laying his hand kindly on the boy’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We Irish,” said the lad, “leap twice before we +think once,” and he flung himself out of the saddle +and began to unbuckle the girths.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bring a cloth,” Maxwell ordered; but Harold said, +“No, I would rather have her without. Never mind, +Dickson.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Then he took off his coat and waistcoat, and tossed +his cap down beside them.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Give me a hand, Max,” he said, and next minute +was on Madcap’s back.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Now, madam, show your breeding,” and he went +at the leap full swing.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Anything more perfect than the boy’s riding Mr. +Pryor had never seen. He sat that horse as though he +were part of her, and yet there was no stiffness, no +tightening of the bridle, no gripping of her sides with +his knees: as easily as a bird on the wing goes +through the air Harold flew past on Madcap; and as he +neared the leap, Mr. Pryor involuntarily held his breath.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Damn her!” said Maxwell Drewitt, heartily, for +the mare refused the fence.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Once again Harold put her at it, and once again +she swerved.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Give me your whip, Max,” he cried, while Mr. +Pryor implored him to give in.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“We see what you can do,” he went on, “and we +will take what she can do for granted.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I must take her over now,” Harold answered.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why must you?” asked Mr. Pryor; but the boy +was out of hearing.</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_305'>305</span>“Because she would never be worth a curse again +if he let her master him once,” Maxwell explained.</p> + +<p class='c013'>On they came for the third time, the sun shining +on the chesnut’s glossy coat, and Harold’s black hair +streaming in the wind caused by his own rapid passage +through the air. On they came, the mare with her +nostrils distended—with her eyes like fire—with +her tail straight out behind her—with her hoofs, as +she bounded along, scarcely touching the grass—the +boy riding lightly and easily as ever, with his left +hand low on her neck, with his right hand resting on +his thigh, while he swept past the spectators. Then +all in a moment he tightened his rein, struck her +smartly with his feet, gave her one blow with the +whip, and lifted her to the leap. The creature rose so +high that Mr. Pryor thought she never could come +down again; and as she rose she went, it seemed to +him, straight through the air as though she were +flying. Her forefeet were doubled under her, her hind +quarters were stretched out almost on a level with her +body, and she lighted on the grass on the other side +the hedge as safely as though she had been a greyhound.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would not see that done again for fifty pounds,” +exclaimed Mr. Pryor, while they walked into the next +field, where Harold, dismounted already, was standing +beside the mare.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Bravo!” said Maxwell, clapping the boy on the +back; “but you took too much out of her, less height +would have done.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Just try to leap it yourself,” retorted the boy, +and Mr. Pryor noticed that both horse and rider were +reeking—that the mare was wet and trembling, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_306'>306</span>that the perspiration was standing in beads on Harold’s +forehead.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will you take her back over it now?” asked +Maxwell, but the lad answered—</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, thank you. I never felt afraid before, and +I never want to feel afraid again.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>He slipped his arm through the bridle, and walked +Madcap half a dozen yards from the hedge, when he +tossed the reins towards Mr. Waller.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Take her quick,” he said, and before any one +could reach him he threw up his hands in the air +as if to steady himself, and fell all in a heap on the +ground.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He has more spirit than strength,” remarked +Maxwell philosophically, but he knelt down, and, not +without some show of tenderness, lifted the boy’s +head and bade one of his men run in and get some +whiskey.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He will never make old bones,” added the owner +of the Headlands, and there was something in his +words and the way he spoke them that astonished Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Is he fond of the lad?” thought the barrister, +and he looked curiously at his host, who was still +kneeling on the sward, and holding Harold’s head +against his breast. “Is he really fond of the lad?” +but there was nothing in Maxwell Drewitt’s expression +to favour such a supposition.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He was looking out over the sea, as if he saw +something of which Mr. Pryor knew nothing standing +out against the horizon. And with his mind’s eye he +did see something—Harold’s double—his own son.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_307'>307</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXI.<br> <span class='c011'>Help.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>The negotiations for Durrow went on apace, and +still Mr. Pryor remained at the Headlands, a welcome +guest to Lady Emmeline—a guest not so welcome, +perhaps, to her husband. For Mr. Maxwell Drewitt +could not be blind to the fact that the barrister did in +some matters join issue with him; that he belonged +rather to the Kincorth party; that he rather affected +the Kincorth interest. “It is Bryan and Geraldine +together,” Maxwell decided, and Maxwell was right. +Brian and Geraldine and Mr. Pryor’s own eyes caused +the barrister to suspect that nature had forgotten an +important item when she made Maxwell Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My cousin is totally heartless,” Brian said one +morning when he and Mr. Pryor were walking by a +near cut across the hills from Kincorth to Durrow, +“and for that reason I am quite in earnest concerning +myself. I desire to get some employment; to be ready +for the evil day when it comes.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What makes you think an evil day is coming?” +asked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“There was a person told me,” answered Brian. +“Four years ago, Mr. Pryor, when I was only fifteen. +I got a warning. I was told to learn diligently; to be +on my guard against bad company; to keep my eyes +open and my mouth shut; for that Maxwell Drewitt +had made up his mind to own Kincorth, and that I +<span class='pageno' id='Page_308'>308</span>should have to turn out and earn my bread some day. +I am not going to tell you who warned me,” added +Brian; “but I took the advice. I have tried to learn. +I have kept my eyes open, and I know Maxwell means +to do us harm if he can.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why should he do you harm?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why? Because, as he says, we have been idle +while he has worked; because we have sat with our +hands folded while he has been toiling and struggling; +because my grandfather willed Kincorth away from +the elder brother and left it to his younger son; because +my father married and had children; because he +hates us,” finished Brian Drewitt, “as I hate him.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Pryor turned and looked at the boy as he +spoke these last words. There was a something more +terrible than any passion could have been in the stern +restraint of Brian’s manner; in the strong curb he +seemed to put on himself—on his words, on his +gestures. There was no fury—no outbreak of rage—no +outburst of violent indignation. He spoke of +hate—sullenly, calmly—without a change of colour; +without a variation in his voice.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why do you hate him?” inquired Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because I do. That is not a very civil answer, +you will say, and yet it is the best I can give you. +Why I hate him I feel; but I could not explain what +I feel, except that I know he wants to grind me under +his foot as I grind this gravel,” and Brian stamped +his heel upon the ground; “but he shall never have +the chance, I swear.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But for a young man of property——” argued +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am not a young man of property,” the youth +<span class='pageno' id='Page_309'>309</span>replied. “Have you really no idea how we are actually +situated? Do not mention it to my mother, because +she thinks that Kincorth is clear, at any rate; but +Kincorth is mortgaged, like everything else. We have +not an acre of land that is not owned by strangers, +and I am quite confident if anything were to happen +to my father, and that the mortgagees sold the estates, +Maxwell would buy them all, and then where should +we be?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Where should you be whoever bought them?” +asked his companion. “It would not matter whether +he or Queen Victoria bought them so long as they +were sold.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; only so far as this, that perhaps one could +do something with other people, while one could not +with him. For instance, I might be agent to anybody +else, but I would not serve Maxwell. I wish, Mr. +Pryor,” added the boy, for though he looked so manly, +he was but nineteen after all; “I do wish I had known +you were going to buy Durrow, for I would have asked +you to give me the agency until I saw how it was going +to be with my poor father.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I have promised it to Connor,” said Mr. Pryor, +regretfully.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I know you have, and Maxwell recommended +him to you. Mr. Waller told me that,” went on +Bryan; “but I should have suspected it anyhow, for +he knew I wanted something to do, and thought he +would be beforehand with me; but I will make my +way in spite of him, if he were ten times as rich as +he is.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“May I ask you something, Brian; and will you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_310'>310</span>answer my question honestly? Why is there such bad +blood between you and your cousin?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I told you before I should never be able to make +you understand,” was the reply. “We have never had +a quarrel, and yet we have never been friends. He does +not treat my mother as I like. He is trying to take +Harold from us, and he is a bad man—a bad, heartless +man, without a conscience.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“How do you make out that he is a bad man? I +knew him before you were born. He was poor then; +but he has worked hard since, and earned great possessions. +Is there any crime in that?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No; but there is harm in the way he has got rich. +You do not like usurers in England. You do not like +people who take advantage of their neighbours’ necessities. +Well, Maxwell is a usurer. He has got a +‘backer,’ I think you call it, in Liverpool or London, +or some of those great towns, where you come from, +who lets him have as much capital as he wants; and +then when they make a good hit they share the spoil. +Maxwell got lots of properties into his hands that way +during the famine. Gentlemen were hard up and +wanted an advance; then he let the interest drop behind, +and wanted principal, and interest, and compound +interest, just in a day. He never bought Mr. Munks’ +place, nor that enormous estate he has in the Joyce +county. He foreclosed on both, or rather his agent +did it for him. He has a man who does all his dirty +work cheap—a lawyer, called Ryan.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Surely that is the name of Mrs. Connor’s brother?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes, he is Mrs. Connor’s brother; but that is +nothing against either Connor or his wife, and you +are safe enough in letting Maxwell’s <i>protégé</i> have the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_311'>311</span>agency; for even if his man were not honest, my +cousin would try no tricks with <i>you</i>.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Go on—what were you saying about Ryan?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He has Ryan under his thumb somehow, and can +make him do just what he pleases. It appears that at +one time they were great friends: that at the time +when you stood for Duranmore——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I remember a young lawyer who was always with +your cousin—a clever, artful dog I thought him. +Is that the Ryan you are talking about?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“The very same. Ryan had Mr. Waller’s agency +for a long time, until, in fact, he displeased Maxwell +somehow or other, and then everything went wrong +with him. He lost his agency and his clients, and +finally went as clerk to a new attorney who came to +Duranmore. Whatever happened then I cannot tell +you; but he got into some trouble, either through +drinking or want of money, which Maxwell saw him +out of. From that time on, Ryan has been back in +business on his own account, and is Maxwell’s factotum.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am afraid, Brian,” said Mr. Pryor, “that you +are a sad gossip.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I am, it is only about one man,” was the answer; +“and sometimes I fancy,” here the lad lowered +his voice, “that it is really he who has got the mortgage +over Kincorth, and if it be——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If it be—what then?” demanded Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Why the place will not be ours even during my +father’s lifetime,” finished Brian; “let alone afterwards.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But supposing—even supposing he have lent +money on the property, it would do him no good to +turn you out; it surely would answer his purpose much +better to let you all remain.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_312'>312</span>“As dependents on him! thank you, Mr. Pryor. No +one belonging to me shall ever eat his bread, if I have +any say in the matter.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But would it not be wise to keep on good terms +with him? Would it not be less galling to take an +obligation from him than from a stranger? Your +father provided for him. It would be a simple matter +of justice if he were to provide for you.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Ay; but my father had the property, remember, +that ought to have belonged to Maxwell’s father; that +is the cause of all his ill-will towards us; and from +what I can hear he had nothing but his keep out of +the place, just as we have never had anything that +with better management we ought to have had. He +told my mother that he disliked her, not for herself, +but for being the mother of the future owner of Kincorth. +I can remember quite well, about ten years +ago, Harold—he was a little fellow then—saying +to him one day in a passion, ‘Go home, go home, this +is not your home,’ and Maxwell made the remark, +‘And it won’t be yours either, my boy, when I come +back.’ No later than Friday last I spoke to him about +letting Harold take that leap on Madcap, and he told +me—I repeat his words, Mr. Pryor—‘to hold my +blasted tongue, and not presume to speak to my betters.’”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“And you——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am waiting, Mr. Pryor.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>There was a long pause while they stood together +on the top of the hill resting. Everything on earth +and in heaven looked peaceful and serene. There +were no clouds in the sky, there were no billows on +the ocean. You would have thought that for very +sympathy, the heart of man would in such a place +<span class='pageno' id='Page_313'>313</span>have throbbed quietly through its allotted time, untroubled +by jealousy, undisturbed by passion.</p> + +<p class='c013'>And yet here, of all places in which he had ever +set his foot, it seemed to Mr. Pryor that men’s passions +were strongest—that their hate was fiercest. +He had heard such stories of cruelty—of vengeance—of +heartburnings—of envy—of unforgiveness, +that had he not heard likewise histories of patience—of +devotion—of constancy—of faithfulness—of +endurance, and of love, he might have thought he was +not on earth at all, but in hell; and now here, with +the blue mountains looking calmly down upon them, +with the great sea stretching away for thousands and +thousands of miles at their feet, with the beauties of +nature all around, and a great silence, an intense stillness, +pervading the scene, was this boy nursing up +his wrath likewise against a coming day.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am waiting,” and Brian’s face never changed, +his eye never dropped under Mr. Pryor’s scrutiny.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You are thinking,” said the youth, when his companion’s +glance at last came back from the ocean and +rested once again on his face, “that I am a fool; that +if Maxwell does not do all I want him to do, it will +be a short shrift and a long sleep with one or other +of us; but you are mistaken. I would not hurt his +body. I would not thrash him. I would not even put +a bullet through him; but I would make him feel. +There is an old epigram,” he proceeded, “that I read +lately and learned by heart, because it put me in mind of +Maxwell. I wonder if you know it,” and he repeated:—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c014'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Death threw his dart at Bindon’s heart,</div> + <div class='line in2'>But how was he astounded,</div> + <div class='line'>When from the part, as with a start,</div> + <div class='line in2'>The weapon quite rebounded:</div> + <div class='line'><span class='pageno' id='Page_314'>314</span>‘Ho! ho!’ quoth Death, and drew his breath,</div> + <div class='line in2'>‘My slaughtering arm you mock at;</div> + <div class='line'>But here’s a blow shall lay you low,’</div> + <div class='line in2'>And smote him through the pocket.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c013'>“Then your idea is to injure him pecuniarily?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If he do not alter his manners to my mother; if +he encourage Harold in drinking, gambling, and all +kinds of folly, as he has done hitherto; and if he vents +any more of his temper upon me—yes; because I +know that Maxwell’s only vulnerable point is money.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Brian,” began Mr. Pryor, and the lad looked +surprised at the change in his companion’s tone—“Brian, +you are laying up great trouble for yourself. +You are preparing an awful curse for your future days. +You are nourishing a viper and hugging it to your +breast: when it comes to life, it will bite you worse +than it will ever bite him. Put all these thoughts and +fancies out of your head, boy. At your age the cup +should be sweet, not bitter. Whatever your cousin +may have done—whatever he may be, it is not to +you he will have to answer for his misdeeds; but you +will have to answer for yours, Brian; and for sins, too, +if you do not crush this hate out of your heart and +turn, before it is too late.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What can I do? What would you have me do?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would have you go on your way, and not ever +cast your eyes on his——”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But he will not let me go on my own way. +Look here.” And Brian pulled a couple of letters out +of his pocket. “There is an old Quaker who has been +very good to my father. I thought I would write and +ask his advice, and tell him I wanted to work, as the +properties were so much involved; and that if he could +find anything to do I would work hard and try to be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_315'>315</span>worth my salary. Here is his first letter. You see +how kind—how encouraging. Here is his second. +Just time enough between, you perceive, for him to +write to Maxwell and get back his answer. You will +say I do not know he wrote to Maxwell or that my +cousin said anything about me; but I am as sure his +fingers have spoiled my pie as that I am living.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“You did not reply to the first letter.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No. I was waiting to see how my father would +be after that last attack.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“It seems strange,” remarked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No, it does not seem strange to a person who +knows Maxwell as I do,” and Brian folded up the +letters again, and put them back in his pocket.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“What makes you want so much to get to England?” +asked the barrister, after a pause.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Because there is no way in which a man can make +money here.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Your cousin has made money here. Why not have +a turn at some of your waste lands, and do as well as +he has done?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“He never would have done so well but for his +wife; and I would not marry an old woman. No, not +if she was hung with diamonds. Besides, it is not +often Connemara sees an heiress, even if I were inclined +to try my luck.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But supposing, now, Kincorth were your own, +could you not make a living out of it?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If it were clear of debt?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“No. Suppose it were mortgaged to close upon +its present value, could you do no better for yourself +than your father has done?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I would make a try to do better anyhow.”</p> + +<p class='c013'><span class='pageno' id='Page_316'>316</span>“Would you work? Would you put your shoulder +to the wheel, and cut down the expenses, and be brave, +as your cousin was, disregarding appearances?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Whatever a man could do, that I would do,” was +the answer.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“But you are not a man yet,” said Mr. Pryor, with +a smile.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Am I not? I wonder when I shall be one then,” +was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Mr. Pryor stood still—he was looking back +through the years and trying to remember what he +was at Brian’s age in the days before he came over in +compliance with the wishes of a certain very wealthy +and influential relative to contest Duranmore.</p> + +<p class='c013'>He had not a care in the world at nineteen. Life +was to him fairyland—to be young was to be happy. +He had never had a sorrow in his life, save about his +lessons at school or his examinations at college. He +could look back and see himself as he was then. He +could look back at himself, as though at another person. +He could see the lad with his fair hair—with his +happy, frank face—with his little airs of dandyism—with +his cheerfulness, his hopefulness, his <i>insouciance</i>—and +contrasting that picture with this, his heart +bled for this poor lad, to whom the cares of life had +come so soon, on whose shoulders the burden of +existence was pressing already so heavily—who had +to think for father, mother, sister, brother, and be +tender and careful for all.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Brian’s face was still smooth as a girl’s, but he +was a man for all that—and as a man, Mr. Pryor +addressed him.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“My boy,” he said, “I will talk to you now as if +<span class='pageno' id='Page_317'>317</span>you were thirty-nine instead of nineteen. If you will +do all you say, if you will be a good lad and give up +the next ten years of your life to work, putting your +cousin out of your thoughts, and making up your mind +to pursue one certain course irrespective of him and +his concerns, I will help you in this matter. Have +you sufficient influence with your father to get him to +give you the management of the estate?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I think so, if nobody puts it into his head that I +am wanting to take the whole property from Harold.” +And for the first time during the conversation, Brian’s +lip trembled.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Do you mean to say any one has ever raised +such a question?”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Yes: Maxwell told me once that probably my +father would do like the rest of the Drewitts—cut +me out for his favourite son; and he has tried to make +Harold dissatisfied about my being the eldest. But +Harold does not care who has the place as long as he +rides the hunters. If he had been fond of money, or +greedy, Maxwell would have made him hate me long ago.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Geoffry Pryor was a man who, as a rule, did not +swear, but he could not help uttering an oath then.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I am that fellow’s guest,” he thought, “but hang +me if it is fair or honest for me to eat his salt now!” +And he made up his mind that he would get pressing +letters from London, and return thither as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“Will you take the matter into consideration, and +see if it be possible for you to assume the reins?” he said.</p> + +<p class='c013'>“If I promise you to drive, I will get the reins +somehow,” was the reply; “only tell me how you +mean to help me—only show me how I can save +<span class='pageno' id='Page_318'>318</span>Kincorth, and give my mother some ease, and keep +my father free from anxiety, and I will work—never +fear—I will work.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>“I will advance money to pay off the present +mortgage, and be your creditor myself; and whatever +sum, in moderation, you require to work the estate +satisfactorily, you shall have.”</p> + +<p class='c013'>Three times Brian Drewitt made an effort to speak, +and three times the words would not come. Then he +held out his hand to his benefactor, and the tears he +could no longer keep back rolled down his cheeks, +separately, singly, one by one.</p> + +<p class='c013'>It was not weeping—it was not excitement, the +barrister had never seen anything like it before, and +he was never likely to see anything like it in the +future; for in the hour of his blackest trouble—in +the time of his worst agony—in the day of his deepest +remorse—Mr. Pryor never saw Brian Drewitt’s eyes +wet again.</p> + +<p class='c013'>His kindness wrung tears out of them once, but +grief could not open those fountains, which seemed +thenceforth dried up for ever.</p> + +<p class='c013'>Brian Drewitt’s wife may have seen him cover his +face, and heard him sob aloud, but I, who can only +follow his footsteps to a certain point, know no more +than this, that the only sign of human feeling Geoffry +Pryor ever saw him evince, was when he stood on the +heights near Durrow, grasping his hand as though he +held it in a vice, while the big tears fell from his +young eyes, one by one.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>END OF VOL. I.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='c016'><span class='small'>PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.</span></div> +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c002'> +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>February 1887.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>Tauchnitz Edition.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='large'>Latest Volumes:</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c017'>Alicia Tennant. By Frances Mary Peard, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Living or Dead. By Hugh Conway, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>King Arthur: not a Love Story. By Mrs. Craik, Author of +“John Halifax,” 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>A Mental Struggle. By the Author of “Molly Bawn,” 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Transformed. By Florence Montgomery, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>The Heir of the Ages. By James Payn, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>A Country Gentleman and his Family. By Mrs. Oliphant, +2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>A Fallen Idol. By F. Anstey, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Court Royal. By the Author of “Mehalah,” 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Her Week’s Amusement. By the Author of “Molly Bawn,” +1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Masollam. By Laurence Oliphant, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>The Evil Genius. By Wilkie Collins, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>A Playwright’s Daughter and Bertie Griffiths. By Mrs. Annie +Edwardes, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>My Friend Jim. By W. E. Norris, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>As in a Looking Glass. By F. C. Philips, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>A House Party. By Ouida, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Doctor Cupid. By Rhoda Broughton, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>One Thing Needful. By Miss Braddon, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Jo’s Boys. A Sequel to “Little Men.” By L. M. Alcott, 1 v.</p> + +<p class='c018'>By Woman’s Wit. By Mrs. Alexander, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Children of Gibeon. By Walter Besant, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Oceana or England and her Colonies. By James Anthony +Froude, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Cut by the County. By Miss Braddon, 1 vol.</p> + +<p class='c018'>Once Again. By Mrs. Forrester, 2 vols.</p> + +<p class='c013'>A complete Catalogue of the Tauchnitz +Edition is attached to this work.</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div>Bernhard Tauchnitz, Leipzig.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c002'> +</div> +<div class='tnotes x-ebookmaker'> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + + <ul class='ul_1 c003'> + <li>Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 78945 ***</div> +</body> +<!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-06-25 20:57:03 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/78945-h/images/cover.jpg b/78945-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..71e1223 --- /dev/null +++ b/78945-h/images/cover.jpg |
