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+ height: 0.5em; + margin: 0; + } + hr.asterisks { + margin: .5em -4em .5em auto; + border: 0; + text-align: center; + color: inherit; + } + hr.asterisks::before { + letter-spacing: 4em; + content: "*****"; + } + </style> + </head> + + <body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79387 ***</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> +</div> + +<div class='border'> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>COLLECTION</span></div> + <div><span class='small'>OF</span></div> + <div>BRITISH AUTHORS</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='large'>TAUCHNITZ EDITION.</span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div>VOL. 810.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='large'>MAXWELL DREWITT BY F. G. TRAFFORD</span></div> + <div class='c002'>IN TWO VOLUMES.</div> + <div class='c002'>VOL. 2.</div> + <div class='c003'>LEIPZIG: BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ.</div> + <div class='c002'>PARIS: C. REINWALD, 15, RUE DES SAINTS PÈRES.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> + <div class='nf-center'> + <div><em>This Collection</em></div> + <div><em>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.</em></div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph1'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='xlarge'>COLLECTION</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>OF</span></div> + <div class='c002'>BRITISH AUTHORS.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>VOL. 810.</span></div> + <div class='c003'><span class='large'>MAXWELL DREWITT BY F. G. TRAFFORD.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>IN TWO VOLUMES.</span></div> + <div class='c002'><span class='small'>VOL. <abbr title='two'>II.</abbr></span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='titlepage'> + +<div> + <h1 class='c004'>MAXWELL DREWITT<br> <span class='small'>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='c003'><em>COPYRIGHT EDITION.</em></div> + <div class='c002'>IN TWO VOLUMES.</div> + <div class='c002'>VOL. <abbr title='two'>II.</abbr></div> + <div class='c003'>LEIPZIG</div> + <div class='c002'>BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ</div> + <div class='c002'>1866.</div> + <div class='c002'><span class='xsmall'><em>The Right of Translation is reserved.</em></span></div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='c001'></div> +<nav data-epub-type="toc"> +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_v'>v</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS<br> <span class='c006'>OF VOLUME <abbr title='two'>II.</abbr></span></h2> +</div> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'> </td> + <td class='c010'>Page</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>CHAPTER</td> + <td class='c008'>I.</td> + <td class='c009'>Brian’s Difficulties</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_1'>1</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>II.</td> + <td class='c009'>At the Dawning</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_14'>14</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>III.</td> + <td class='c009'>After the Funeral</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>IV.</td> + <td class='c009'>Farewell</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_41'>41</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>V.</td> + <td class='c009'>The Hour of Success</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_53'>53</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>VI.</td> + <td class='c009'>On the Way to Durrow</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_68'>68</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>VII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Another Difficulty</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>VIII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Harold in Trouble</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_95'>95</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>IX.</td> + <td class='c009'>An Unfortunate Likeness</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_113'>113</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>X.</td> + <td class='c009'>Hearing is not Believing</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_132'>132</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XI.</td> + <td class='c009'>Called Home</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_151'>151</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Geraldine is Satisfied</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_161'>161</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XIII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Country Gossip</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_179'>179</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XIV.</td> + <td class='c009'>What met Brian</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_191'>191</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XV.</td> + <td class='c009'>Madcap’s Last Leap</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_204'>204</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XVI.</td> + <td class='c009'>After Long Years</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_216'>216</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XVII.</td> + <td class='c009'>The Beginning of the End</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_228'>228</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XVIII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Man’s Vengeance</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_239'>239</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XIX.</td> + <td class='c009'>Through Connemara</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_254'>254</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XX.</td> + <td class='c009'>Brian’s Repentance</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_266'>266</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XXI.</td> + <td class='c009'>Sickness unto Death</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_279'>279</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'>——</td> + <td class='c008'>XXII.</td> + <td class='c009'>Brighter Days</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_285'>285</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c007'> </td> + <td class='c008'> </td> + <td class='c009'>Conclusion</td> + <td class='c010'><a href='#Page_300'>300</a></td> + </tr> +</table> +</nav> + +<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='c006'>Brian’s Difficulties.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Mr. Gyton returned to London with his uncle, +greatly to his disgust, for he was really enamoured of +Geraldine Drewitt; “But the idea of staying on with a +blue-book and a rouge-pot without you!” he remarked +to Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Cannot you ride?” asked the barrister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Over those winding roads for ever? No. Human +nature demands a change.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Cannot you fish?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No. I cannot live on fried trout, and ham and +eggs, and whiskey, in those districts where fish is +plentiful: add to which, that I agree with Dr. Johnson—was +not it?—who said a fishing-rod had a worm +at one end and a fool at the other.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can you not superintend matters at Durrow?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Durrow be hanged! We will come over with a +party, but till then, Durrow sees nothing of your +humble servant.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can you not cultivate a friendship with Harold +Drewitt?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Much obliged, but Mr. Harold Drewitt is a young +gentleman whom I admire much more than I like. No, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_2'>2</span>uncle, I return with you to London by the Kingston +and Holyhead packet, if you please.” And Mr. Francis +Gyton locked his portmanteau determinedly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When shall we see you in Connemara again?” +asked Lady Emmeline, with her sweetest smile.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not until next summer, I fear,” answered Mr. +Pryor, and his hostess looked inconsolable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish we were going to spend the winter in +London,” she said, with a sigh; and Mrs. Gyton heard +of that sigh, and asked her Ladyship to visit London +after Christmas; a visit which Lady Emmeline enjoyed +greatly, and which was most probably the happiest +time she ever spent during all the years that had +passed since her marriage with Maxwell Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for the owner of the Headlands, he felt rejoiced +exceedingly when Mr. Pryor took his leave. The visit +had not turned out according to his anticipations.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were several matters in which he had desired +Mr. Pryor’s co-operation and assistance, but he +decided that it would be more prudent to let those +matters wait.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Twelve months can make no material difference,” +argued Mr. Maxwell Drewitt; “and when he returns, +those young people at Kincorth will be singing to a +different tune. And that reminds me I may as well +call round with Ryan, and give him instructions how +to proceed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But on the road Maxwell met Mr. Ryan coming +post haste to him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Look here,” said the attorney—by this time a +shabby, shuffling man of close on fifty, who smelt +even at the earliest hours in the morning of whiskey, +and who would now as soon have thought of calling +<span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span>his employer Max, as he would of addressing Lord +Marsden as “Bob.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There had been a time when the pair were very +intimate; when they stood very close together on Fortune’s +wheel; but the wheel had gone round since that, +and carried Drewitt up and Ryan down. They were +very far apart now—far as master and man can +stand—and though the attorney said “Look here,” +it was not said familiarly, but rather out of the excess +of his own astonishment, with a great anxiety to know +how Mr. Drewitt would receive the contents of the +letter he held out for him to read.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell glanced over it—then he looked at +Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What the devil is the meaning of this?” he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That there is a fresh hand at the helm,” was the +reply. “It is that young Brian.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Damn him!” said Maxwell heartily. “Had not +they some clause by which, if the interest were not +paid, they could sell without power of redemption?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, if the interest were demanded; but the +interest has not been demanded lately.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And curse you for a fool; why has it not been +demanded?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“By your own order, sir; by your own order, I +assure you,” said Ryan. “You were afraid of exciting +Mr. Drewitt’s apprehensions, and consequently——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Archibald, you mean. I am Mr. Drewitt. +I am the eldest son of the eldest son, remember that, +if you please.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Archibald’s apprehensions,” corrected Ryan, +“and——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You must get to know what this means,” interrupted +<span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>Maxwell. “You must go to old Neill, and +ascertain all about it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have been, sir, and Neill is quite in the dark +himself. This is the last transaction he is ever to be +engaged in for them. Master Brian requested him to +write to us. Had he seen him first he says he would +not have done it. He refused to give him any further +information, and begged him to send all his father’s +papers back to Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What will be the next move do you expect?” +asked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“To pay off the principal.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They have got a backer,” muttered Maxwell +Drewitt, with a shocking oath, “and that backer is +Geoffry Pryor. Are all the papers likely to go back, +Ryan?” he asked, with a certain significance, which +made the other turn a little pale.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Neill will not give them up till his costs are +paid, and he has a pretty tidy bill against Mr. Drewitt. +He thinks also if he retains the papers he may get +back the business.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You keep him up to that idea,” said Maxwell; +“and as for this interest, let them pay it if they can; +and the principal too, for that matter, curse them! +That young fool thinks to get the better of me. So +much the worse for him, that is all.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And Maxwell Drewitt turned on his heel, and retraced +his steps towards the Headlands, swearing to +himself as he walked along. It was a new thing for +Mr. Maxwell Drewitt to find himself worsted, and he +had been worsted here.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He thought he had but to step up to Kincorth and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>take possession, and behold Kincorth was as far from +him as ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Farther perhaps—for there was, as Mr. Ryan had +said, a fresh hand at the helm, who was evidently +about to follow his cousin’s example and make the old +property valuable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is ploughing, he is digging, he is sowing,” +Maxwell remarked to Ryan about three months afterwards; +“where does he get the money?” and Ryan’s +thoughts ran back to a time when he had put the +same question to himself with regard to Maxwell, and +wondered if this younger and better Drewitt would be +equally successful with his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is not likely, I suppose,” remarked Mr. Ryan, +“that he will do as well as you have done.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, faith,” was the reply, “he is working in +chains. If the young beggar did not richly deserve +all he gets, I should pity any one who was trying to +work under my uncle. I would rather work for the +devil. He would know his own mind; a thing Archibald +Drewitt never did.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And what Maxwell Drewitt said was true.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But for Kincorth,” wrote Brian to Mr. Pryor, +“but for the sake of the dear old place whose roof I +want to keep over the heads of my father and mother +if I am able, I could sometimes almost wish I had +rented a portion of Durrow from you, and tried my +luck there. No person can imagine how hard I find it +to carry any point, or to maintain it when carried. +My father thinks I am taking too much on me, and +latterly even Harold has gone over to the enemy. I +have no one with me except my mother and Geraldine. +Even my mother thought I ought to defer more to my +<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>father’s opinions, and so I had to tell her about the +mortgage. Since then she has been with me, heart +and soul, and indeed but for her I should often have +felt inclined to give up in despair. But I am in the +river now, and I do not mean to sink if I can help it. +We have never got those papers back yet from Mr. +Neill. He is keeping them against his costs, and as +the papers cannot be of much importance, I think I +shall not speak again to my father on the subject till +you come over. Connor is doing wonders with Durrow. +If the place were his own he could not be working +harder to increase its value. My father’s health does +not improve; on the contrary, those attacks are more +frequent. I have been urging him to go to Dublin, +but he seems to think I want him out of the way. +Perhaps when you are next here you may be able to +persuade him to get some first-rate advice. My speaking +seems to do more harm than good.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And Brian was quite right. The fact of his proposing +anything made Mr. Drewitt object to it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is hard upon you Brinbaldy,” said Wilhelmina, +who had married years and years before Mr. Goldich, +a man far below herself in birth and social position. +“It is hard upon you. I can remember the time when +my uncle would not cut down a tree because you +might not like it; when he was going to build a house +for you at Analore; when we were not allowed to have +a door open for fear the draught might kill you, precious +baby that you were; and now all the county is +talking about how badly you and he hit it off, and +how sorry he is Harold is not the eldest son.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If Harold could keep the property together, I am +sure I wish he were the eldest,” sighed Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>“Dear, dear! to think about the fuss they made +over you once, and to see how that young jack-a-napes +has cut you out now. My husband says, Brian, +that if he were you, he would not let Maxwell and +Harold be so much together. He says Harold will go +to the dogs entirely if he is not got out of this neighbourhood, +and that you ought to see to him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can I do everything?” asked Brian. “Am I +Harold’s father? am I the owner of Kincorth? How +is it possible for me to do more than I am doing? Do +you think I am master here?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, you need not be angry at me for repeating +what he says; you need not snap me up like that +for giving you good advice. Go on as you choose, +only don’t blame us if any harm happens to Harold.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is no harm likely to happen to Harold,” +Brian would answer; but spite of this, as often as not +he went straight off to his brother, and entreated him +to stay more at home, not to drink so much, not to +mix so freely with the lower orders, but to remember +he was a Drewitt, and being such, to keep himself to +himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You want to make me a sneak like yourself,” the +boy retorted. “You take too much on you; you set +yourself up a great deal too high; you are not a bit +like what you used to be; you are too much of the +master before your time, as Maxwell says.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then calmly, and without a change of colour, Brian +damned Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We will be quits some day,” he remarked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When you have made your fortune out of +mangold-wurzel and your fine new English sheep, I +suppose,” taunted Harold, for the English sheep had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>proved failures, and the success of the mangold was +problematical.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I would rather lose money on mangolds than +take it out of my wife’s pocket,” returned Brian; and +thus they wrangled on, till oftentimes the elder brother +was sick and tired of his thankless labour—of the +work which was never done, and which, in the opinion +of many people, had better never have been attempted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was hard; and this lad of twenty felt the difficulty +of his position keenly. He rose early, he went +to bed late, he fought hard for what he believed to be +right. He did his best to fulfil his promise to Mr. +Pryor, and yet the consequence was that, when Mr. +Pryor returned to Connemara, he found Mr. Drewitt +dreadfully dissatisfied with his son—full of complaints, +full of grievances.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is very hard for a man to be so treated by his +own child, Mr. Pryor,” sobbed the invalid. “There is +no use in my making any suggestions. He is only +twenty, and I am sixty-four; yet you would think, to +see the way he gets on, he was sixty-four instead of +me. I am sure I managed my own property for many +a year before he was born, but he ignores me completely—completely, +sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hope Brian is never disrespectful,” observed the +Englishman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No; I cannot make any complaint on that score; +he only takes his own way; he will not be guided by +me. Now there’s flax. I wanted him to sow flax; +but do you think he would do it? and I ordered the +men to plant some young trees round that piece of +land he is reclaiming over by the Point. You would +hardly credit it, I suppose, but he told them to go on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>ploughing, and leave the trees till another season. And +those trees, sir! when he comes to lay that down in +grass he will have no shelter for his cattle; not as +much as would shade a sheep.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor took the old man’s hand kindly in his +own—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My dear Mr. Drewitt,” he began, and his heart +was grieved, as he spoke both for the father and the +son. “Will you go back in your own mind twelve +months, and think of your position then—of your +position now? I know, I have good reason for knowing, +that had I not advanced money—had I not, in +fact, taken the mortgages on Kincorth myself—the +former mortgagee would have foreclosed ere this; and +Brian knew this as well, and the lad is now working +hard to free your property from its incumbrances. If +in all cases he does not follow your advice, I am confident +it is only because he feels that whatever returns +money in the present is of more importance than any +improvements calculated to beautify the property in +the future.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But trees, Mr. Pryor—trees are always valuable,” +persisted Mr. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not until they grow,” answered Mr. Pryor, with +a smile, and that smile weakened the force of all he +had said previously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Of course, I know nothing,” said the old man; +“of course, my opinion is of no weight. I am your +debtor, sir, and Brian sees with your eyes—and I—I +might as well be in my coffin.” Having arrived at +which sensible conclusion, Mr. Drewitt burst into tears.</p> + +<p class='c012'>All in vain, Mr. Pryor begged him to consider how +hard Brian was working, how his endeavours had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>caused several of Mr. Drewitt’s most troublesome creditors +to cease their persecutions, how there was comparative +comfort at Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Good Heavens! Mr. Drewitt, what would you +have?” went on the Englishman. “How can Brian +possibly do more for you than he is doing?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“For himself, Mr. Pryor, you mean,” answered +Brian’s parent. “He thinks the estate will come to +him absolutely, when I am dead and gone. It is not +right for a son to act as if his father were already +dead and buried; and I must look out for Harold’s interests—I +must see to them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you would attend to Harold’s interests in the +present,” returned Mr. Pryor, whose patience was by +this time exhausted, “and insist that he should spend +his days in some profitable manner, instead of drinking, +hunting, and consorting with all kinds of bad +characters, it would be more to the purpose, I think, +than exalting him over the son who is trying his best +to do his duty.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There you are,” interrupted Mr. Drewitt, “taking +Brian’s side, of course: it only shows me more and +more that I must see to Harold—poor lad—for who +would be on his side if I and his mother were gone?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are right, Mr. Drewitt,” answered Mr. Pryor; +“it will be better for you to see to Harold; it will save +much heartburning on the boy’s part and much misconception +on your own. I am sorry you are so ill-advised +as to believe the interests of your two sons can +for the present be separated; but I have done: every +man must manage his family and his affairs for himself, +and strangers only do more harm than good by +meddling. I am sure I have,” muttered the lawyer to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>himself, as he returned slowly and thoughtfully towards +Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had not, however, gained the top of the hill +above Kincorth before he heard some one calling—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! Mr. Pryor, do stop, pray, pray do!” and +stopping and looking back he saw Geraldine flying +after him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have run so fast,” she panted. “I want to +speak to you. I want to talk with you so much: may +I walk part of the way to Durrow?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Might she?—part of the way?—when he +would have given all Durrow to have heard her promise +to walk with him all through life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At what age does a man’s heart cease to beat +faster, I wonder, when a pretty girl—that is, the +pretty girl of his especial fancy—speaks to him?</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a dreadful disparity between them—a +quarter of a century, or thereabouts—which made +Geoffry Pryor feel occasionally that he was mad for +thinking of such a thing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And perhaps he was mad; but he thought about +Geraldine, from morning till night, for all that.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do so want to talk to you about Brian,” she +began. “Home is so wretched for him, you can have +no idea, Mr. Pryor—none;” and Geraldine lifted her +soft dark eyes to the Englishman’s face to see if he +were attending to what she said. “I sometimes think +he would be better away, for poor papa seems to fancy +he can do nothing right—nothing.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your papa is not in a fit state of health to judge +accurately on any subject,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But it is so miserable for Brian.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Brian is doing his duty.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>“It is so hard for him to have to be doing his duty +so young,” she answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He will find it all the easier when he is old,” replied +Mr. Pryor; but there was nothing unkind in his +tone, harsh though the truth might be.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Could he not do his duty any place else?” she +asked. “He tells me he could not; that he must make +a struggle to keep Kincorth; that he chose to go into +battle, and that he will not turn his back on the fray: +but still, I thought I would ask you,” finished Geraldine; +and the dark eyes were lifted to his once again, +and her soft Irish voice laid an accent at once pathetic +and imploring on the “you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dear child,” answered Mr. Pryor—she seemed +so young and so trustful, so childlike and so pretty, +that he would have liked to gather her in his arms +and carry her to his home, out of the way of sorrow +and trouble—“you would not have your brother a +coward; he has elected to tread a rough road, but he +will reach the end some day; and you must help, and +not hinder him on his way.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But if you knew, Mr. Pryor; if you knew—papa +is so—so jealous of him, and Harold is the +same; and everybody seems against him—every—every +one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What a foolish little girl you are!” he said; and +the longing grew stronger to take such a little bundle +of folly to himself for ever. “I am not against Brian, +you are not against Brian, your mamma is not against +Brian, many people are very much for Brian, and +think him an amazingly fine young fellow. Besides, +he is doing right, and he will be glad hereafter to +think he did strive to keep a roof over his father’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>head. Although Mr. Drewitt does not thank him for +it now, Brian will be glad to remember at some future +day how he stood between his father and the world.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish I could be of any use,” she said, with +such a wistful look in her sweet face that Geoffry +Pryor would have given more than Durrow to touch it +just once with his lips.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You can be of use,” he answered; “you can tell +Brian, whenever he is dispirited, not to lose heart: you +can tell him that the evil is only apparent while the +good is real: beyond all”—he hesitated for a moment, +and then went on—“you can tell him to be kind to, +and patient and forbearing with his father; patient as +he would be if he were lying on his death-bed; +because, dear Geraldine—may I call you Geraldine?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, anything,” she replied; “because why?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He will not, I fear, have to exercise his patience +so long as he would——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! Mr. Pryor—Mr. Pryor!” and the colour +faded out of her face and the tears sprang into her eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My dear, it is true,” he said; “and that thought +will make both you and him very tender and very good.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Papa, my poor, poor papa:” it was all she could +say; but she stretched out her hands towards Mr. Pryor, +as though in this dumb fashion she were asking his help.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“God knows when it may be,” he went on, taking +her hands, “but you must be prepared any day, my +poor child—Geraldine.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mamma, mamma!” and Geraldine drew her hands +away from him and covered her face from sight; +“mamma, mamma! I think I will go home now,” she +added after a pause. “I think I will go back to him: +thank you, Mr. Pryor;” and she left him crying bitterly.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II.<br> <span class='c006'>At the Dawning.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>It was easy enough to see from Geraldine’s manner +that although she had never put the precarious state of +her father’s health before herself plainly, yet that she +had vaguely dreaded the worst.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As a rule, our fears travel so much faster than +actual danger, that before danger absolutely appears in +sight, we are well prepared for its advent; and there +was not one of Mr. Drewitt’s family, unless indeed it +might be Harold, who had not been long prepared for +the worst.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Drewitt, and Brian and Geraldine had known, +for many a day, that he could never be better. Once +admit the idea that improvement is impossible, and it +is not difficult to imagine that the last change of all is +probable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There are times when it is the truest wisdom to +look upon our living as dying; when it is well to meet +the mournful truth boldly and without disguise; when +it is well to buckle on all our charity and forbearance; +to call together love, and duty, and tenderness, so that +we may not pain the departing by opposition which +might be imperative for their sakes as well as our +own, were they not already at the mouth of that river +where all human leave-takings must be ended.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If we had but known how ill he was—If we had +only imagined he was dying!”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>“Had we thought he was in danger!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>How often we hear these sentences—happy +only if we have never had need to utter them ourselves!</p> + +<p class='c012'>Geoffry Pryor resolved that Geraldine should have +no sorrow of this kind. It was right for her to understand, +and yet the intelligence did not seem strange to +her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She had feared—and the fear was true—and +she went down the hill towards Kincorth, crying, as I +have said, bitterly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As she went Mr. Pryor began to marvel whether +he had done right; whether, after all, Mr. Drewitt’s +case was so hopeless; but then he remembered many +an unfailing symptom which assured him that Kincorth +would soon be in want of a new master.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And the sooner the better, say I,” was the conclusion +he arrived at; but then his conscience chid him, +and he added, “though God knows best.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Harold, nothing could induce him to think +badly of his father’s state.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You told me more than a year ago he could not +be cured, and he is alive now,” he argued.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I said I feared he never could be better, and I +was right,” answered Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, he may live for a hundred years yet,” was +the reply. “He is dying—you are dying—I am +dying; but although we are dying we are not near our +deaths; at least I hope not,” added Harold; and he +went whistling out of the gates, to seek for more cheerful +companionship abroad.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He did not like all work and no play, not he; give +him a good tumbler of punch, a pretty country-girl for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>partner, and a jolly good dance up at Regan’s—a +public-house on the way to Cragantlet, where he and +a lot of other young fellows got together—and Kincorth +might go hang.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘For I’m a fine young Irish gentleman,</div> + <div class='line in2'>All of the ancient school,’”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c014'>Master Harold would shout out as he came reeling +home, arm-in-arm with three or four more as drunk as +himself; and Brian, who had never taken a glass +too much wine in his life, looked at his brother +and asked helplessly—“What can I do? what can +I do?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He never knew where to find Harold when he +wanted him; and one night when the worst, so long +apprehended, had to be faced, Brian, flinging himself +on the fastest thing in the stable—Madcap—knew +no more where to go to look for his brother than if he +were the greatest stranger in the world.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is a dance up at Regan’s to-night, sir,” +said the man who had saddled the chesnut; “and if +you’ll ride up there, I’ll cut across the hills to Durrow, +for Mr. Maxwell’s dining with Mr. Pryor, and +should Master Harold not be at Regan’s he’ll be +there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Which is the nearest road to Regan’s?” Brian +asked, stroking the neck of the chesnut, who was one +of the most fidgety brutes a man ever undertook to +ride.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Straight on till Cragantlet, then take the turn +before you come to the gates, and keep on about half-a-mile. +He’s nearly sure to be there; but if he’s not +there, you might call at Dan Glynn’s as you’re comin’ +back.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>“I’ll call there as I’m going,” was the reply; for +Dan Glynn was an individual who resided about a +mile inland from Duranmore, and who was reputed to +make his living by less honest means than tilling bad +land or sending lean sheep to Ballinasloe fair for the +Leinster graziers to buy and fatten.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a dark night for August, but Brian knew +every inch of the road, and so for that matter did the +chesnut, who brought him to the Moor Farm in less +than a quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian rode straight up to the door and, without +dismounting, rapped for admittance with the handle of +his whip.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were no lights to be seen, there was no one +stirring about the place; but the youth knew Mr. +Glynn’s habits, and not thinking these at all sufficient +reasons for supposing the household had retired to rest, +he jumped to the ground, and with whip and boots +made such vigorous onslaughts on the door as soon +brought Mr. Glynn out of his bed to inquire what the —— he +wanted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I want my brother, Glynn; do you know where +he is?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The Lord be good to me, it’s Mister Brian. I +beg your pardon, sir, I’m sure; I thought it was some +damned gauger. No, I haven’t seen Masther Harold, +not these two days. Anything wrong, sir? can I be +of any help?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, thank you,” answered Brian, who had one +foot already in the stirrup. “I’ll go on to Regan’s.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How’s the Masther, Mister Brian?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dying, Glynn,” was the reply that came back +through the night, for the chesnut was galloping down +<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>the cross road leading to Duranmore, and Brian turned +round in his saddle to shout out these words.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Faith, then, an’ if he’s dyin’ it’s not Dan Glynn +that’ll go back till his bed, an’ sleep contint. I’ll +follow the boy: shure an’ it’s at a time like this a man +stands in need of company, let him be rich or let him +be poor.” And straightway Mr. Glynn “clapped a +saddle” on his black pony Tom, and cantered away to +Cragantlet in pursuit of Brian Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian, meantime, had gone galloping on under the +darkness. He gave the chesnut her head, and she +went tearing away as though she thought he was riding +a steeple-chase. Over those lonely roads, what did it +matter? Among those desolate hills, who cared if he +rode like a fiend through the night? The same country +as Maxwell had traversed, while the moon shone +down on lake, and hill, and bog, and ravine, Brian +now dashed through without turning his eyes to right +or left. He thought of his father—of the great +mystery—of how hard he had tried to do his duty—and +of how his reward was—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Harold, Harold,” but never once, “Brian, my +son.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And now his father was going where all his eldest +born had tried to effect could benefit him no more. +He would never see Kincorth clear of debt; never know +how disinterested Brian had been; never understand +how this boy-man had worked to free him from anxiety; +never comprehend how wild and reckless, how +selfish and thoughtless, his favourite son was growing +up.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is best as it is,” thought Brian, bitterly; “better +for him to die than for Harold to break his heart!” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>And as he thought this, the sound of music was borne +down the lane, and he heard shouting and laughing +and the noise of the dancers’ feet as they were thumped +at regular intervals upon the earthen floor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hold my horse, boy,” he shouted to an urchin +standing by the open door, and the boy ran forward +and took the mare, and was about to lead her round +to the yard, when Brian stopped him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t put her up,” he said, “I only want to speak +a word inside. I shall be out again in a minute,” and +he strode into the house, a finer-looking man than +Harold was ever likely to grow to.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is my brother within, Mrs. Regan?” he asked of +the landlady, who met him at the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Brian! an’ it’s welcome ye are, sir. Your +brother? I’m not just sure, sir; will ye step in and sit +down while I see?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’ll see for myself, Mrs. Regan, if you please,” +answered Brian, gently putting the landlady on one +side. “You need not be afraid; I’m not going to scold +the boy; nobody is going to be angry with him, only +his father wants to see him before he dies!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“God save us all, is he that bad, Mr. Brian?” But +Brian had already flung open the kitchen-door and was +among the merrymakers.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In a moment every dancer stood still, every voice +was hushed, and only the piper who had been playing +Paddy O’Rafferty went on with his tune, unmindful of +the intruder.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hush! Jamsie,” said one in his ear, “it is the +young master;” and the piper stopped.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Although it was summer, a tremendous turf-fire +blazed on the hearth, and collected together in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>kitchen were a number of pretty young country-girls, +young farmers, labourers, and two or three gentlemen’s +sons, foremost among whom stood Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were wooden forms round the room for the +convenience of the lookers on; there was whiskey in +abundance; one or two dogs lay on the hearth, and +the blind piper was accommodated with a seat in a +dark corner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Welcome, Brian!” shouted out Harold, boisterously; +“welcome! we’ll get you a pretty partner and drink +your health with three times three.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not to-night, Harold,” answered Brian. “I want +you a minute; come here;” and thinking all the time +of the room in which he had left his father, of the +contrast between the one scene and the other, he led +his brother into the passage, and told him he must +hurry home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Like one listening in a dream, Harold heard all +Brian said in silence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In silence also he allowed himself to be taken out +of the house into the darkness, to the spot where the +chesnut was standing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t spare her, Harold,” said Brian, helping his +brother into the saddle; “lose no time.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But you, Brian—but you?” and Harold was on +the ground again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’ll walk back,” was the answer. “Hang it! can’t +you do as I tell you for once? Jump up; it is you he +wants to see—not me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And Brian almost lifted his brother into his seat as +he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you all right now?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, only I wish——”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>Brian struck the mare on her flank, and the creature +was off through the darkness, through the night, +bearing Harold towards Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A mile after leaving Regan’s, Brian met Glynn. +“Take my pony, Master Brian,” he said; “I brought +him up here on purpose, and I can send to Kincorth +for him in the morning.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you, Glynn?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I can tramp it,” was the answer; and Brian accepted +his offer; only as he rode he wondered how +much of all the respect and civility which was accorded +to him he owed to the fact of his being the eldest son, +the next heir.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is Harold they like,” he reflected, “and not +me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Brian was wrong; the country-people liked +Harold much, but they liked him better. They were +fond of the free-mannered impetuous boy, but they +were fonder still of the young gentleman who was +doing his best so soon; who was out with the labourers +in the morning, and was overseeing the men, and +planning this and measuring that, from sunrise to +sunset.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Doing his best to keep the ould place from the +stranger,” as they pathetically said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was two o’clock before Brian reached home. +Glynn’s pony cast a shoe six miles from Kincorth, and +the young man had been obliged to walk him every +step of those six miles home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ ye never stopped to pick up the shoe, Master +Brian,” said Nannie, who was now stooped with age, +and old and withered, regretfully. “I only hope no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>harm will come of it. Won’t you eat a bite before +you go up to him? He has been asking for you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“For my brother, I suppose you mean,” answered +Brian; “is he not with him?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes; but it has been Brian, Brian, this last two +hours. You look white like, won’t you have a drop of +something?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, Nannie, not now; let me alone, like a good +soul. Where is my mother?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Where wud she be but wid him?” was the reply; +and Brian ascended the staircase and entered his father’s +room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There lay Mr. Drewitt, waiting for the final summons; +there sat Mrs. Drewitt, and Harold, and Geraldine, +and Doctor Sheen. From side to side the dying +man tossed restlessly. “Brian, Brian!” he cried; and +Brian answered, “I am here.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you take care of your mother, Brian, and +your sister, and—and Harold?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will, father,” and the young man bowed his +head as though he felt himself in the presence of something +mightier than mortality.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you be good to him, patient with him?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will,” and Brian Drewitt took his father’s hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Swear it,” murmured the dying man.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“As I hope for peace here and salvation hereafter, +I swear!” said Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have left you all,” Mr. Drewitt muttered feebly; +“perhaps it is not right—and I did not mean to do +it—but you will be good to him, Brian, you will?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Before God!” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And may He enable you to fulfil your vow!” said +a voice behind him; and Brian, looking round, saw the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>Rector of Duranmore, who laid a kindly hand on his +shoulder.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My boy,” he whispered, “you have undertaken +great responsibilities this night; but God will give you +strength if you ask for His help.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And then they all knelt down, while the clergyman +prayed that intensely-pathetic prayer which is ordered, +in the visitation of the sick, for those for whom there +appeareth small hope of recovery.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Amen,” said the sick man, but there was no other +Amen, only sobs from the women and Harold, and +a profound silence as regarded Brian and Doctor +Sheen.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Amen!”—the sands in the glass had almost run +out; the sun of his life was close upon its setting; the +river of his existence was flowing out into the sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Amen! His day was declining; his grass withering. +This man was going to his long home, and the mourners +were gathered round about him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Amen! He could not take up his life again and +make a better thing of it; he could not go back through +the years and redress the wrong, and undo the misery +he had brought on others. For him in this world +there was no future, only a barren and unprofitable +past.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Amen! Throw open the shutters, and fling up the +windows, that he may look his last in the grey light +of morning, over the country he has loved so long.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Lift me up,” he said feebly; and they raised him +up that he might see the trees standing quietly in the +first blush of dawn—the sea lying still as a glassy +lake—the grand old mountains and Eversbeg’s +Head.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>From the far-off mountains, from the nearer hills, +from the sea and the woods, and the cold grey sky, +the dying man’s eyes came back slowly to the room +where was a “sound of weeping and a noise of lamentation.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell had come in and stood beside the bed, +waiting till his uncle should notice him. Against an +old-fashioned escritoire leant Mr. Pryor, who felt himself +an intruder and a stranger in the midst of such a +scene. The Rector supported the sick man, and +whispered some words of consolation to him. He saw +the end coming; he knew the moment when the keepers +of the house tremble, and the strong men bow themselves, +and the grinders cease, was close at hand; and +though he could not hear what the dying man was +muttering, he yet liked to see his lips move, hoping it +was in prayer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He looked very peaceful; his face was calm and +placid; but as he brought back his eyes from the +Bennebeola mountains, from Eversbeg and the nearer +hills, his glance fell on Maxwell, who stepped closer +to speak to him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But his uncle turned from him, and calling out +“Brian—Brian!” fell forward into the arms of his +first-born.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And over his father’s grey head, which lay on his +bosom, Brian looked defiantly at his cousin. There +was no man living could step between them now; in +that hour his son was closer to Archibald Drewitt than +the wife of his bosom.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As the magnet attracts iron, so the stronger nature +attracts the weaker in the hour of its most grievous +need.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>No man could separate the father and his child +now—for still the grey head lay on Brian’s breast, +growing heavier—heavier each moment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a great silence in the chamber, and +then Doctor Sheen walked round the bed, and taking +one cold hand in his, felt the pulse.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was gone—the “silver cord was loosed, and +the golden bowl broken, and the pitcher broken at the +fountain, and the wheel broken at the cistern.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The dust had returned to the earth, and the spirit +unto God who gave it.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III.<br> <span class='c006'>After the Funeral.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>It was all over—another Drewitt was gone from +Kincorth—another Drewitt was about to swell that +grim assemblage who lay shrouded and coffined in +Eversbeg Abbey, waiting for the judgment—and +through the darkened rooms and about the accustomed +passages the family moved slowly and mournfully. Not +one was glad Archibald Drewitt had passed to his last +home—not one—child—servant—tenant—relative, +unless indeed it might be Maxwell Drewitt, who +was, his wife remarked, a little more irritable than +usual, if that were possible.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Naturally Brian took the management of affairs. +He ordered a hearse from Galway, the nearest town +where such a luxury was obtainable. He despatched +intimations of the death to all the gentry in the neighbourhood; +he sent hat-bands and scarfs to all the clergy, +dissenting, Roman Catholic and Protestant, within +reach, (you perceive, reader, more devolves upon the +relations in Ireland than in England,) and he saw that +popular requirements were attended to in the kitchen +and servants’ hall.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian was not one to throw disrespect on his father’s +memory by neglecting any of the customary conventionalities, +and accordingly, while the corpse was +watched up stairs by a profusion of ancient women, in +a room lighted by wax candles, whiskey was drunk <em>ad +<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>libitum</em> in the servants’ department, and the house slept +neither by day nor by night.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is nothing in which Ireland differs more from +England than in her observances concerning the dead; +there is nothing which grates more against English +feeling than the riot and disorder of an Irish household +after a death; while the stately and undemonstrative +propriety of an establishment on this side of the water, +where there is mourning for the departed, strikes the +Hibernian as cold and unfeeling.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In Kincorth the popular taste was allowed to run +riot. By the lower orders, Archibald Drewitt had been +idolized; by the lower orders, his loss was lamented +exceedingly. It is possible for a vast amount of regret +to co-exist with an unlimited supply of whiskey, and +Duranmore sorrowed over Archibald Drewitt exceedingly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for the family, what more can I say than that +they mourned—that Mrs. Drewitt’s grief was silent, +and Harold’s passionate, and Brian’s stern—that the +wife bowed down her head and wept for the husband +of her youth—that the children bewailed themselves +for the father they should never in this world see +more?</p> + +<p class='c012'>All the latter and more unamiable part of Archibald +Drewitt’s life was by common consent ignored—his +family, his tenantry, his dependents, and society +generally, never spoke of the man who, grey and bent, +full of fancies and of grievances, had gone about among +them, but rather they talked of the genial Irish gentleman—of +the loving, gracious parent—of the +kindly, reckless master, who had dwelt with them for +so long.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>“An’ it’s Mr. Brian that will be the proper man to +fill his shoes,” crooned the old people over the turf-fire +in the kitchen; “though he is not so free as his father, +and is quieter like, still it’s the cliver man he’ll make, +and it’s the fine place Kincorth will be yit, God bliss +it! The poor Masther had not the same sinse as his +son, and he went through a power of money too, intirely.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But the poor man niver was turned from his +dure.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ he niver spoke a hard word to man, woman, +or child.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ he was easily served.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ he had always the kind look and the pleasant +smile, meet him where you would.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ shure, it wasn’t his fault if he niver looked +afther the dirty money. He wasn’t reared to the like.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ay, but it ‘ud be betther now for Mr. Brian if his +father had thought o’ them that was to come afther +him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ye can’t both spend and have,” remarked one +man, oracularly; “an’ it’s no use frettin’ about the +goold that can niver be brought back again. He was +good to many a poor body the time of the distress, and +it will be remimbered till him now, God rest his soul!” +and the speaker crossed himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thus they talked over the turf-fire while the whiskey +circulated, and the servants, who were called away at +intervals, returned to communicate any strange piece +of intelligence that had been made known to them +upstairs.</p> + +<p class='c012'>How the mistress was looking—how Master Harold +was taking on—how Miss Geraldine had fallen fast +<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>asleep on the drawing-room sofa, “tired out wid the +grief, poor thing”—how the corpse was looking +more and more beautiful—how they did say the +funeral was going to be the grandest thing ever seen +in West Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian Drewitt had determined in his own soul that +what the people said should prove true. He would do +honour to his father. No man should whisper that a +Drewitt of Kincorth went to his long home with a +badge of poverty on his coffin, though that badge had +been won for himself by years of prodigality—of +reckless expenditure—of senseless profusion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Poor they were, heaven knew—poor in consequence +of his father’s bad management; but they +would scrape together enough to bury him, as he himself +might have desired, right royally—as the Drewitts +had been wont to travel to their vault in Eversbeg +Abbey, down by the sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The fourth day was that fixed for the funeral. +Like Abraham, the Irish would lose no time about +burying their dead “out of their sight.” Not out of +their memories, for there is no country in the world +where the dead are remembered longer, or mourned for +more earnestly. Only out of their sight; and this +speedy interment, which so shocks and astonishes the +English, has, I think, its origin in the different customs +of the two countries with regard to the bodies of the +deceased.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Till earth receives earth, the Irish never willingly +leave a corpse alone for a moment. Till the grave is +closed, nothing in a house of any kind, sort, or description, +can go on as usual.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Now, human nature cannot remain with the clay, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>whence the soul has departed, beyond a certain period; +further, an establishment cannot sit up for ever. Moreover, +the novelty even of a death wears off. It is like +a state visit, exciting for the time, but apt to grow +wearisome if long protracted; and for all these reasons, +and for many more of the same kind, which it would +take too long to mention, a “rest day, a guest day, +and a prest day,” are the utmost measure of time that +a body honoured, as is the case in Ireland, ought to +intrude its presence on the family.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The prest day is a stretch of courtesy across the +channel; but not to fail in due respect, Brian accorded +it to his father’s remains.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He required the time to arrange matters to his +liking, and when the morning came he had everything +prepared to do honour to the man who was going, +after all these years, to lie down beside Nicholas +Drewitt, and George Drewitt, and all the long line of +Drewitts who were waiting in Eversbeg Abbey for that +hour when the “heavens and the earth shall flee away, +and the sea give up her dead, and every mountain and +island be moved out of their place.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a magnificent funeral; never had such a +one passed through Duranmore before. All the gentry +for twenty miles round came in their private carriages, +drawn by the best horses their stables could turn out; +people who had not carriages came on cars, in dogcarts, +in gigs, on horseback. All the men who had +ever paid rent to Archibald Drewitt, though many of +them had passed with his lands into the hands of +strangers, came to do honour to him now; all Maxwell +Drewitt’s tenantry, all Lady Emmeline’s, all Mr. Pryor’s, +all the tradesfolk out of Duranmore, all the fishermen, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>all the labourers, fell into rank behind the black hearse, +with its nodding plumes, with its four stately horses, +that led the way to Eversbeg.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Under the trees that bent their branches over the +road; round the bay where the waves came rippling +up on the shore; through Duranmore—where the dead +had once made himself so busy about rival candidates, +about forgotten politics—past the cottage where Ryan +had again taken up his abode; over the hill beyond +Duranmore, and down into the hollow where the Abbey +stood lonely and desolate, the funeral procession wound +sadly and slowly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was as fine a day as ever shone upon the earth; +the sunbeams fell in great patches on the tombstones, +on the monuments, on the grass in Eversbeg graveyard; +the great mountains lifted their heads to the blue sky +grandly and unsympathizingly as ever; outside Eversbeg +Bay the Atlantic lay calm and quiet as a lake. The +ivy about the east window waved its branches as the +light breeze passed by: frightened at the incursion of +such a multitude, the birds flew out with a great noise +and twitter, while the sheep bounded away like wild +deer over the broken wall and up the hill-side to a +convenient distance, where they turned and looked +down upon the scene below as though it had been a +spectacle and they the spectators.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The rusty gate of the churchyard stood wide, but +the hearse could not pass through it, and the nearest +of kin accordingly bore the coffin into the centre of +the ruins, preceded by the Rector of Duranmore, who +walked slowly along, telling to the sea and to the +mountains, to the sunshine and to the mourners, the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>one great truth that shall endure when there is no +more sea and no more sorrow—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He that believeth in me, though he were dead +yet shall he live, and whosoever liveth and believeth +in me shall never die.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>They placed the coffin on trestles, in what had +once been the centre of the Abbey; and there, with no +covering but the sky, in the midst of that ruined +church, with nettles and grass underfoot, with the +elder-tree spreading abroad its branches in the chancel, +with ferns growing where the holy water had wont to +be placed, the funeral service proceeded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Think, oh! reader, of what that service must have +sounded at such a time in such a place.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Pigmies seemed the men in comparison to the +eternal hills, but yet the Rector lifted up his voice, +and declared—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“‘Lord, thou hast been our refuge from one generation +to another, before the mountains were brought +forth, or ever the earth and the world were made. +Thou art God from everlasting and world without +end.’”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Many a one present sobbed when that psalm was +read out. As David bowed the heart of all the men +of Judah even as the heart of one man, so almost as +one man that great assemblage was moved at the words +of the sweet singer of Israel. But there were two +present whose eyes never moistened, but who looked +straight at one another over the coffin, each seemingly +keeping watch on his fellow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was the same when they stood beside the vault; +and when the Rector said, with a perhaps unintentional +emphasis—</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>“‘Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts,’” +more than one of the group round the grave noticed +the look Brian Drewitt gave Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What’s up, do you suppose?” whispered Connor +to Dan Glynn, who chanced to be close at his elbow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t know,” was the reply; “but did you not +see the shove Maxwell gave him when he went to take +the right hand in the procession? I thought coffin +and all would have been over.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Have you any idea what it means?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No good,” said Dan, prophetically; and very +vaguely Mr. Pryor was thinking the same thing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could not imagine what had gone wrong, but +he felt satisfied the day would not pass over peaceably; +and when the service was finished, when all that man +could ever do for Archibald Drewitt was accomplished, +when the living had left the dead to take his long rest +under the shadow of the hills, within sound of the +great sea, the barrister, sitting in the same carriage +with the cousins, would have given much to know the +probable result of the next few hours.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can he have any power we know nothing of?” +speculated Mr. Pryor: “have they had any quarrel +unheard of by me?” and he ran over possible and impossible +circumstances likely to account for the hostile +attitude assumed by both.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Almost in silence the four drove back to Kincorth. +In one corner of the carriage, with his back to the +horses, Harold was crying. Beside him Brian sat with +his arms crossed, staring defiantly at Maxwell, who, +employed in biting his nails down to below the quick, +never troubled himself to open his lips to any one.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But as they passed through the entrance gates and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>up under the arching trees to the house, Mr. Pryor +noticed that Maxwell bent forward and looked out—out +over lawn and field and garden, with the air of +triumph he had noticed once before.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What can be the meaning of it?” marvelled Mr. +Pryor, but he was not left very long in doubt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had Brian not been a drop’s blood to the late +owner of Kincorth, Maxwell could not more completely +have ignored his existence than was the case.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Pull up those blinds,” were the first words he +spoke when he entered the house.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do nothing of the kind, Robert,” said Brian, and +once again he and Maxwell exchanged glances of defiance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Shall I go away?” asked Mr. Pryor; “you would +rather, I am sure, not have any stranger present when +the will is read?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, stay, if you please,” answered Brian. “I feel +as if something were going to happen, though I have +not the remotest idea what. Mr. James Butler will +read the will. Shall we get it over at once?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>They passed into the dining-room, where Mr. Butler +was already seated, with one sealed packet and several +loose papers lying before him. As Mrs. Drewitt and +Geraldine entered he rose, and remained standing till +they had taken their places. For a minute afterwards +indeed he stood as if irresolute, but then drawing up +his chair to the table, he said, addressing himself to +Mr. Pryor—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have looked, at Mr. Brian Drewitt’s desire, +through all the papers left by his late father, and can +discover no trace of a will likely to be available at the +present moment. I find two or three rough drafts, +which were prepared for him by his former legal adviser, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>Mr. Bartholomew Neill, none of which Mr. Neill +informs me met with his approval. It would seem as +though he had intended to make some separate provision +for his younger son, but he has failed to carry +out that design. An unfortunate difference between my +father and the late Mr. Drewitt prevented our having +such an intimate knowledge of his affairs as might now +be desirable. Mr. Neill has intimated that a will was +made by him, and executed by Mr. Drewitt, which +will it would seem as though Mr. Drewitt must subsequently +have destroyed, as I can discover no vestige +of it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is that sealed packet there, Mr. Butler?” +asked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is a will, dated on the cover, 1818, which +would of course be inoperative at the present juncture, +since Mr. Drewitt’s marriage took place fourteen years +subsequently, and marriage renders all wills made Pryor +to that event null and void.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not all wills, Mr. Butler,” said Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Read this one, at all events,” broke in Brian +Drewitt; and Mr. Butler took up the packet. “But +stop a moment,” he added. “Suppose it should be of +no effect; what would then be the result?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Just the same as though your father had died +intestate.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And if he had died intestate?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You would succeed, of course.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Across the room Brian looked defiantly at Maxwell, +who returned the look calmly and steadily.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Had not we better proceed to business?” he said, +addressing Mr. Butler. “I shall be glad to return home +as soon as possible.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>“And so shall I,” murmured Wilhelmina, thinking +of her last baby.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor walked across the room and seated himself +beside Brian, while Mr. Butler broke the seals, +took out the enclosure, and began.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is no need for me, reader, to weary you with +the contents of that will. It had been made shortly +after Mr. Drewitt’s accession to Kincorth, and set forth +that as he, the testator, had succeeded to the property +to the exclusion of his eldest brother and his family, +he desired to restore the property to the elder branch +after his death. Never being likely to marry, (he proceeded +to declare,) it was his desire that all his estates, +real and personal, should pass to his brother; or, in the +event of his brother’s decease, to Maxwell, son of the +said George Drewitt, chargeable with so-and-so and +so-and-so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a tremendously lengthy document, and Mr. +James Butler read on through the catalogue of estates +that had now most of them passed into other hands—wearily +and rapidly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should think my father must have paid for it +by the foot,” he was considering, when suddenly he +turned over the last page and caught sight of something +that made him pause, and glance across at +Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go on,” said the young man; “I am attending,” +and Mr. Butler went on—to signed, sealed, and delivered, +when he stopped once again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is that all?” asked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, there is a codicil.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Of what date?” inquired the barrister, rising and +standing with both hands on the table, while Maxwell’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>eyes grew darker and darker, and the veins in his forehead +swelled and blackened—“of what date?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September 28th, 1832, more than three months +after Mr. Drewitt’s marriage.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is the codicil?” said Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Read it,” suggested Mr. Pryor, and Mr. Butler +read on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When he had finished, every man present looked +in the face of his neighbour, for the codicil confirmed +the will. It mentioned Mrs. Drewitt’s jointure; all present +were clear on this point, for Mr. Butler was requested +by Mr. Pryor to read it over again. Then the +barrister took the will and looked at it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When will Brian be of age, Mrs. Drewitt?” he +asked, turning towards the widow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The third of next April,” she replied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And what is the date of the codicil, Mr. Butler?” +was his next question.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“September the 28th, sir,” answered Mr. Butler.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor went through a mental calculation, through +every turn of which Maxwell followed him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Did not the 28th fall on a Sunday?” he said, +suddenly addressing Maxwell; but Maxwell was not to +be trapped.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am sure I cannot tell,” he said, and he thrust +his hands into the very bottom of his pockets.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The best thing, it seems to me, now that we can +do is to send for Mr. Neill,” remarked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I doubt if he will come,” said Mr. Butler.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who was Mr. Drewitt’s solicitor in 1832?” asked +the barrister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My father,” answered Mr. James Butler.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh!” remarked Mr. Pryor; then he said to Mr. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>James Butler, “Is there anything more to be done?” +and Mr. James Butler said that there was not, so far +as he knew.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then we need not detain Mrs. Drewitt: all this +must be very unpleasant to her,” was Mr. Pryor’s next +observation, and he held the door open for her and her +daughter to pass out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What does it all mean, Mr. Pryor?” she whispered. +“I do not understand it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not exactly understand it myself yet,” he +replied. “We must make inquiries about the missing +will.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And he walked back into the dining-room, without, +however, closing the door behind him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I suppose we cannot do any good by standing +here, looking at one another,” he said, making a sign +to Brian to remain silent, while Maxwell marched across +the apartment, and taking one hand out of his pocket +slammed to the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish to make a remark,” he commenced, returning +to his former position. “I wish to state that +this will has taken me unawares.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You lie!” interrupted Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have not the slightest doubt on the point, Mr. +Drewitt,” answered Mr. Pryor. “And if such a proceeding +were not illegal, I should say the best thing +you could do would be to put this will in the fire, and +proceed as though your uncle had died intestate.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell bit his lip, but putting a curb on his +temper, he proceeded—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I shall do nothing rashly, I shall make no hasty +promises. I must think over the position in which this +will places me, before committing myself in any way. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>Thirty-seven years have elapsed since my father was +disinherited in favour of Brian’s father, and now, by a +curious fatality, Brian is disinherited for me. The +estates were then valuable; now, most of those estates +are owned by strangers, and the property which is left +is heavily mortgaged, as no one knows better than +you, Mr. Pryor. With a large rent-roll, my uncle did +nothing for us. Out of the little his extravagance has +left, I will, however, do something for his children, if +they permit me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You shall never do anything for me,” retorted +Brian. “I will never take a sixpence from you; nor +shall one belonging to me, if I can help it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Be silent, Brian,” entreated Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will not be silent,” said Brian. “He has cheated +us somehow; if that other will be destroyed, he had +some hand in making away with it. He has determined +for years and years and years to own Kincorth; +and he has got it. Curse you, Maxwell Drewitt! curse +you, for a false-hearted, double-faced, lying scoundrel!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t stop so soon,” sneered Maxwell; “it is safe +to insult a man in his own house.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then if it be your house, may it prove a sorrowful +one to you! may you never have an hour’s happiness +in it! as you are childless, so may you die desolate!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Take that, you foul-tongued young beggar,” said +Maxwell, and he struck him a back-handed blow across +the mouth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! Brian, Brian!” cried Harold, and he flew at +Maxwell like a tiger.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Maxwell put the boy aside, and holding him +from him at arm’s length, went on—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Take your protégé with you, Mr. Pryor, out of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>my sight; and keep him out of it, or I may do him +an injury. Is it my fault that his father was a fool? +Is it my fault that Kincorth should come back to its +rightful owner? If Brian thinks it does not now belong +to me in law, as it always did in equity, let him +contest the point. For my part, I swear that, while I +have a shilling, he shall never now own an acre of +my land.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You have done for yourself, at any rate, Brian,” +remarked Mr. Goldich, taking the young man by the +arm, and forcibly leading him out of the room. “What +an idiot you must be,” went on Mr. Maxwell Drewitt’s +brother-in-law, “not to stick up to him! because, if the +other will be destroyed—and I have not the remotest +doubt in life myself but that your father did put it in +the fire when he took that notion about Harold—where +are you without his help—just tell me that?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Brian refused to answer that or any other question +which Mr. Goldich might feel inclined to propound.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He said, “I wish to heaven you would leave me +alone!” and with this explicit declaration separated +himself from his relative at the foot of the staircase.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very slowly and very wearily he ascended to his +own apartment, while Mr. Goldich returned to the +dining-room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell met him in the doorway.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You came here to hear the will read, I believe, +sir,” he observed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes—with Wilhelmina,” answered Mr. Goldich.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then, as you have heard the will read, you and +Wilhelmina can both go home.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, I’m damned!” exclaimed Mr. Goldich; and +he never put his foot inside Kincorth again.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV.<br> <span class='c006'>Farewell.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The first thing Maxwell Drewitt did when he got +rid of his visitors was to order a room to be prepared +for his accommodation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And, Robert, tell Flynn to put the saddle on +Madcap, and to bring her round directly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Give my compliments to Mrs. Drewitt, and say I +shall be glad to speak to her alone for a few minutes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And he walked up and down the room until Robert +reappeared.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Drewitt’s compliments, sir, and she is in the +breakfast-parlour.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was the first note of war on Mrs. Drewitt’s +part; and Maxwell accepted it as such.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nevertheless, he repaired to the breakfast-parlour, +where Mrs. Drewitt was talking to Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I thought,” said Maxwell, “I saw you leave with +Mr. Butler.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I only went so far as the gate. I wished to +speak to Mrs. Drewitt before I returned to Durrow; +but I have said all I had to say, and am going +directly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not on my account, I hope,” answered Maxwell, +with a great accession of civility. “I merely wanted +to tell Mrs. Drewitt that I trust she will consider Kincorth +<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>her home for the present. I have no desire to +make her position at all unpleasant. I am quite willing +to meet her half-way in any reasonable plan for the +future. And if Brian will apologize for his extraordinary +conduct, I am ready to forgive and forget.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But I am not, Maxwell,” she answered. “You +have always hated me; and you have always hated my +children. Twenty-one years ago you told me you disliked +me, and why? For twenty-one years you have +been scheming and plotting to get us out of Kincorth; +and your schemes and your plots have been successful. +I cannot forget, and I cannot forgive. As if it were +not trouble enough to lose my husband, I must also +see my children beggars.” At which point Mrs. Drewitt +burst into tears, and Maxwell answered—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When my father lost this property he accepted +that loss without a murmur. Many a one now living +can tell you that. It is not half so hard for your sons +as it was for my father, for they are unencumbered, +and he was married and had a family: you have your +jointure; my father had not a sixpence. Kincorth, and +the other farms and estates, which we have usually put +under one head and called Kincorth, brought in at +that day fifteen thousand a year. Without mortgages +its nett value was probably eight thousand a year. +Am I stating my case fairly, Mr. Pryor?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have no reason to suppose otherwise,” was the +reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“After thirty-seven years Kincorth returns to the +elder branch absolutely valueless; so valueless that I +declare to you, were it not that it has been in the family +for more generations than I could tell you, I +would let Mr. Pryor foreclose to-morrow and trouble +<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>myself with the place no more: do you believe what I +am saying?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She made no answer, and he proceeded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must ask you, Mrs. Drewitt, now, to look back +to the time when you came first to Kincorth. What +had we out of the property?—food. Had we anything +else? were we well-dressed? were we well-lodged? +were not we thrust to the wall? were we not intruders +and dependents in the house of our fathers? Had we +anything which a gentleman’s children had a right to +expect at the hands of the person who had supplanted +that gentleman? Many and various were the humiliations +I experienced in those the early days of my life. +But I have no desire to pay back my uncle’s family +in kind. Many a long year ago, Mrs. Drewitt, you +were good enough to sympathise with me and to entreat +me not to leave Kincorth—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She made a gesture of impatience, but he disregarded +it and went on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Since then I have succeeded; I have been prosperous; +I am wealthy, and the owner of the place +where I once was little better than a servant. I do +not forget your kindness, but entreat you to remain; +to consider this house your home; to let me help you +and your children as you were once anxious to help +me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had made his speech, and it was not a bad +one; and now he waited to hear what effect it had produced +on Mrs. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Maxwell,” she answered, “I always admitted +your position in life was not what it ought to have +been, until by your own industry and cleverness you +made yourself what you are. I always thought your +<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>grandfather’s will most unjust; and even in this house, +from whence my dead husband has so lately been carried, +I am not afraid to say that, had he acted more +wisely and fairly by his brother, his life would have +been a more prosperous one. But,” and here Mrs. +Drewitt rose, as if she could not find breath to speak +sitting—as if in her nervous excitement it was needful +for every muscle to be strained, every limb stretched, +“my husband did not act unfairly by design, or through +any premeditated wickedness. He came honestly into +Kincorth, and sure am I in my inmost heart, Maxwell, +that you have come dishonestly. I know that for +twenty-one years you have kept this end in view; and +you have achieved your object so far. When I think +of my poor boy—when I think of Brian”—and as +she spoke the tears fell like rain over her altered face—“when +I think of how he has worked, of how you +set his father against him, of how you sowed dissension +between him and Harold, and of how you have +destroyed every hope and plan of his life, I feel that +if I were to eat your bread it would choke me; that if +I were to accept any grace, any favour, at your hands +I should be as bad as you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you think of that, Mr. Pryor, as a civil +answer to a kind offer?” asked Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will tell you by-and-by,” replied the Englishman; +“meantime I think Mrs. Drewitt will be more +composed at Durrow, where she has no old associations, +where everything will be fresh and new. She is not +capable at present of appreciating your kindness, or in +fact of clearly understanding what you say; and as +you are going to take up your quarters here to-night, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span>your aunt and cousins will accompany me back to +Durrow.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If they do then,” said Maxwell Drewitt, “they +shall never return to Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! Kincorth—dear, dear Kincorth,” broke out +the widow, and she fell on her knees, and burying her +head in the sofa pillow, sobbed passionately.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You had better leave her,” suggested Mr. Pryor, +and he drew Maxwell out of the room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They are a nice comfortable sort of people to +have to do with, are not they?” said Maxwell, with a +forced laugh, slowly drawing on his left-hand glove, +and smoothing every wrinkle out of the kid while he +spoke. “There are not many men who would bear +having their kindness flung back in their face as I do. +What do you think of the family now, Mr. Pryor?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think that they have received a great shock, +following on the top of another great shock, and that +consequently every allowance ought to be made for +them, and for what they say under the circumstances.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And what do you think about the whole affair—about +the will I mean?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That it must be very unpleasant for you,” was +the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, it is: the property is not worth that,” and +Maxwell snapped his fingers, “only I am glad to have +back the old place. If Brian had gone on with his +improvements it would soon have come to the hammer.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I cannot quite agree with you there,” answered +the Englishman. He could see the chesnut waiting for +her new master, and he added, “You are going to ride +Harold’s mare?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Harold’s, indeed! I really was not aware.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>“I thought it was his: did his father not give her +to him?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He said so,” answered Maxwell; “but, on the +same principle, Brian might say his father gave him +Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Of course; you are right. Then you are not +going to confirm your uncle’s present?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Give a lad like that a mare worth two hundred +and fifty guineas? If you have made your money so +easily, Mr. Pryor, I have not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Englishman did not press the point further. +“Good-bye,” he said, “I suppose you will not be back +before we leave.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We! Then you really are going to adopt the entire +family? Be advised—a widow and three children is +no light responsibility. Besides, you ought really to +consider <em>les convenances</em>.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What <em>convenances</em>?” asked Mr. Pryor, hurriedly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, the world may say one of two things—either +that you are going to marry the widow, who is +only about a year or so older than yourself; or else +that you are in love with the daughter. I have long +inclined to the latter opinion myself, and I congratulate +you on an arrangement which will give you such ample +opportunities of winning her young affections.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am your debtor, Mr. Maxwell Drewitt.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not at all; if you were so, I should be only too +proud to be your creditor.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are very kind, but I prefer paying my bills +as I go on. You have asked me twice within the last +ten minutes what I thought of your position. Let me +give you my answer now. If you have come into +Kincorth honestly, I think we are all dealing very +<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>hardly by you; but if you have come into Kincorth +dishonestly, then I think you have not had half your +deserts. And in either case,” added Mr. Pryor, “I must +say that I consider your manner unfortunate.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Our opinions with regard to each other may be +identical on the latter point,” retorted Maxwell; “but +I suppose that need not hinder our being friends in the +future as we have been in the past. Good-bye for the +present,” and he held out his hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Geoffry Pryor refused to take it. He bowed +stiffly and walked back across the hall to the breakfast-parlour, +where he had left Mrs. Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“As you like, my fine fellow,” muttered the new +owner of Kincorth; “those that win may laugh.” But +somehow Maxwell Drewitt did not laugh. He looked—while +he rode down the avenue and out of the +gates, of that property which was now his own for life—as +unlike a person who had the remotest intention of +laughing as it is possible to conceive.</p> + +<p class='c012'>After all, the cup of prosperity is not entirely +sweet. There are an immense number of bitters in the +pharmacopœia even of success.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But he had succeeded in annoying Mr. Pryor, that +was one great consolation; and if he could have imagined +how desperately he had wounded his opponent he would +have been better pleased still.</p> + +<p class='c012'>To a man like Geoffry Pryor it does not matter +much what the world says; but it matters excessively +what his own conscience tells him; and his own conscience +told him Maxwell had not spoken altogether +falsely, for that he should find it very sweet to have +Geraldine living under the same roof as that which +covered his own head.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>“I must go to Waller’s; it is the only way of cutting +that knot,” he decided; and more determined than +ever that, so long as he had a shelter to offer her, +Mrs. Drewitt should not remain at Kincorth, he pressed +upon her the necessity of packing her things as soon +as possible, and of taking her departure before Maxwell +returned.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your maid could follow with your luggage,” he +suggested.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Poor old Nannie was the only maid I could ever +boast of,” answered Mrs. Drewitt through her tears.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, let Nannie put your things together, and +the boys can soon find their own; and I will send +Flynn over to Durrow for the car and a light cart. If +there are any of the servants you would like to accompany +you we can make room for them at Durrow.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But how should I ever be able to keep servants?” +she inquired.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you are not able to do so, I will find something +for them,” he answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If I were to take one or two the rest would think +I did not care for them. I had better leave all, I had +indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was right, and Mr. Pryor could not help marvelling +how so sensible a woman had never been able +to make a wiser man of the owner of Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>While he went round to the stable-yard to despatch +Flynn to Durrow, she called the servants together and +told them all what they knew beforehand—that Mr. +Brian was heir no longer, that Mr. Maxwell now owned +Kincorth and everything in it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You must not think,” she added, for her sense +of justice prevented her saying anything to prejudice +<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>the servants against their new master, or leaving anything +unsaid which it was right they should know—“you +must not think Mr. Maxwell Drewitt is turning +us out of Kincorth; on the contrary, he offered me its +hospitality for as long as I liked to remain. It is by +my own wish I leave the house I have loved so well.” +(“Ah! hear that, the craythur!” said some one in the +rear.) “I could not be happy here; and though it is +very kind of Mr. Maxwell (dark faces and lowering +looks among the men), still I feel it is best for me to +avail myself of Mr. Pryor’s kindness and go to Durrow +till I see what the future may bring forth. It is so +soon—” and Mrs. Drewitt paused to recover herself—“so +soon after my dear husband’s death, and altogether +so sudden and unexpected, that I cannot tell +yet where I may go or what I may do; but wherever +I am—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She paused again:—“wherever I am”—but it +would not do: she put her handkerchief to her face, +and then the women crowded round her weeping and +bewailing themselves, and Mrs. Drewitt sobbed out +too.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was like a queen among them—she who had +come there so lonely and unwelcomed—and when +she said, “You have been my friends; I have loved +you all,” and held out her hand for each to shake ere +she departed, they stooped down and kissed it, men +and women alike, and a bitter cry of lamentation arose +to the chamber where Brian sat all alone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He knew right well what was the meaning of it. +He knew his mother and he could be but of one mind, +and that she meant to leave the house, and leave it at +once; but he did not think where she proposed going, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>and so he descended the staircase and entered the +drawing-room, where she and Geraldine and Harold +stood, and walked up to her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ here’s Masther Brian, ma’am; an’ it’s himself’ll +be the comfort to you from this day forth for +ever.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ haven’t ye yer childer, ma’am? Shure there’s +nobody living can take them from ye: an’ wouldn’t +him that has got Kincorth give Kincorth to have any +one of them for his own?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There’s a silver lining to ivery cloud.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But it’s us that’ll feel it, losing masther and +misthress within the week.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ it’s the good masther he was.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ the kind misthress you’ve been.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“An’ the blissin’ of God will follow ye; and the +prayers of the poor have gone before ye.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She can’t stand it,” said Brian, huskily; “think +of what she has gone through and let her be quiet, +Mother; come with me—mother darling.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He led her through the servants, who made a way +for them to pass out, and took her to her own room, +where he inquired what she meant to do, what plan +she had laid out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then he took the management of affairs on himself. +He went and asked Mr. Pryor what his mother +was legally entitled to carry out of Kincorth, and when +Mr. Pryor told him, in strict law, only the clothes she +wore, Brian observed there would be the less packing +needful.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“<em>He</em> can send them after us if he likes,” said +Brian, pointing towards Headlands; “but she shall +<span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>take nothing except what she has a clear right to +take.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you, Brian?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I want to be alone for a while. I will walk over +the hills to Durrow.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let me walk with you;” and Brian saw that the +Englishman was afraid of what he might be meaning +to do.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Trust me,” he said; “I would not shoot Maxwell +if there were no gallows on earth. I am not going to +seek an interview with him—upon my honour I am +not;” and Mr. Pryor was satisfied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mamma wants to go all round the grounds, and +would like you to go with her,” Geraldine came +whispering at this juncture. “She wants to go alone +with you,” the girl added, and Brian went.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had Mrs. Drewitt been remaining on at Kincorth, +I wonder how long a time would have elapsed ere she +set foot on lawn, in field, in garden? But now, on the +very day when the husband she had loved was laid in +Eversbeg Abbey, she walked about the place bidding +to each tree and plant and flower a sorrowful adieu.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Up the glen she went, and over a plank which was +thrown across the waterfall. She had been timid about +that plank in former days, and afraid to cross it; but +now she stepped over without a helping hand. Where +the summer-house had once been she stood and looked +down on the country, speaking never a word. She +plucked a leaf here and another there; she picked up +a pebble out of the stream, and pulled a fern and a +piece of moss from beside the waterfall. She went into +the garden and gathered for herself lavender, and +heliotrope, and a sprig of bay, and another of lemon +<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>verbena, a morsel of heath, a late-blooming rose, a +spray of fuchsia, two or three scarlet geraniums, and +a handful of woodruffe, and these she tied all together +with a piece of ribbon, and laid aside.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When I am dead, Brian,” she said, “you will find +those flowers somewhere among my possessions. You +will put them in my coffin. Promise me, my son.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mother, mother!” he remonstrated.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Promise me,” she insisted, and he did as she +wished.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thus Agnes Drewitt bade farewell to Kincorth. +In her heart she knew she should tread its pleasant +lawns, its shady walks, its sunny gardens, no more for +ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When she drove down the avenue with her children +about her to the lodge, where the way was blocked by +a crowd eager to do her honour, eager to tell her they +sorrowed with her sorrow and sympathized with her +distress, she felt that, let who else would, return to +Kincorth in triumph, let who else would, come back +to dwell in the familiar rooms, to take their rest under +those magnificent trees, she might return to Kincorth +no more!</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V.<br> <span class='c006'>The Hour of Success.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Near the gates of Kincorth Brian separated himself +from his mother, and promising to meet her at +Durrow, walked back up the avenue towards the house. +He had many things to put together—some few presents +to make, some last words to speak, ere he went +out into the world to push his fortune; and accordingly +he retraced his steps slowly up the drive, thinking of +the change that twenty-four hours had wrought in his +prospects, and considering what it would be best for +him to do now. Half-way, Maxwell overtook him, and +dismounting, walked with Brian to the house, leading +the chesnut, who looked distressed, as though she had +been ridden fast and far.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am glad to have an opportunity of talking with +you alone, Brian,” said Mr. Maxwell Drewitt. “Is there +any earthly reason why we should not be friends? why +you should leave Kincorth at all?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think there is,” Brian answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you explain what you mean? Will you explain +to me why there should be ill-will between you +and me any more than there was between your father +and my father?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your father and my father were probably different +men to what you and I are,” was the reply. “Your +father was wilfully disinherited, and he knew why; I +am disinherited by an accident, or by a fraud; you can +best tell which,” and Brian’s lip curled.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>“You cannot think it other than accidental, surely,” +said Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What I think cannot signify to you so long as +you have got Kincorth,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well now, Brian, that I have got Kincorth, will +you tell me what I am ever likely to make out of it? +The mortgages, as you know, are almost equal to its +value. It is not a cheap house to keep up. More will +be expected from the owner of Kincorth than was +ever looked for from the owner of the Headlands. The +place will be an expense to me, not a gain; you must +have sense enough to see that yourself.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Give it to me,” said Brian, grimly, “and see if I +will complain.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, boy, you could never have made money +out of it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should have tried,” was the reply. And there +ensued a long silence, which Maxwell broke, by saying +as they approached the house—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Shall we be friends?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No,” Brian answered; “for I mean to put you out +of Kincorth, if I can. If I cannot, then I mean to bide +my time, and take my revenge. You need not look so +black, Mr. Maxwell Drewitt. I shall not shoot you; +I shall not come behind you in the dark and smite +you under the fifth rib; but I shall find out your weak +point and hurt you there. A year or two is nothing; +I can wait: when you least look for me I shall be at +your side.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are mad, Brian,” said his cousin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then it is you who have made me so,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let us be friends.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I told you no, once; I tell you no, twice. There +<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>are places where even you, Maxwell Drewitt, will be +unable to injure me, to hinder my succeeding; and I +shall succeed yet; and I shall come back to Kincorth +yet. Let me pass, I am not going to steal anything +out of the house. It is yours now, I know, but it has +not been so for long. Let me pass.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can he have found another will?”—that was +the thought which crossed Maxwell’s mind, and for a +moment he stood irresolute. Then he made way, and +Brian entered the house.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Before many minutes had elapsed he came down +the staircase, with a bunch of keys in his hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Harold’s luggage and mine is together, and I will +send over for both to-morrow morning. Meantime, if +you would like to see that we have taken nothing belonging +to you, there are the keys. Take them,” he +insisted, as Maxwell drew back, and he flung them at +his cousin’s feet.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am going now,” the youth said, looking round +him with a terrible despair. “I am going now. Have +you anything to say to me before I go?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let us be friends.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You struck me to-day, Maxwell.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am sorry for it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You pushed me aside at my father’s funeral.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Inadvertently.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You have got Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Accidentally.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“For years you have been trying to put my father +against me; you made him misjudge me towards the +last; you tried to frustrate all my efforts for freeing +Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I thought I was acting for the best.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>“Then,” answered Brian Drewitt, “I think I am +acting for the best now, when I refuse your friendship; +when I say you are a coward and a hypocrite; when I +cross this threshold, saying that at peace with you I +will never re-enter it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Brian, you will repent.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And so will you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>With which mutual assurances the cousins separated, +and while Maxwell took possession of his new +home, Brian strode out of the house and took the hill-path +leading to Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had to pass by the stables on his way through +the plantations, and he turned aside to speak to Flynn, +who was the last man to leave the yard.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Maxwell wants you, I think, Flynn,” he said; +“and I wish to say good-bye to the horses; so you can +come back here after you have seen him;” and with +that Mr. Brian Drewitt thrust a crumpled note into the +man’s hand, remarking—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That will pay you for your overtime.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t need it, Masther Brian,” said Flynn. “I’d +work night and day for you, I would, if working could +give you back your own.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Keep it,” returned Brian. “I am not poor—keep +it, I can make more; only go—go away,” and +he crossed the yard and pushed open the stable-door, +and went in, closing, but not latching it after him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Gently, my lady,” said the youth: he had walked +up the stable and entered Madcap’s loose box. At +sound of his voice, the chesnut turned round and +whinnied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then Brian drew a pistol out of his pocket, looked +to the priming, cocked it, and took aim.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>At the moment, Madcap put her head against his +breast, asking in her mute fashion for the caress to +which she was accustomed: finding no caress given, +she lifted her head and looked at him with soft and +inquiring eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I cannot do it, Chessy,” he said. “I meant to +shoot you, but I must leave you for others to ride; +for others to maltreat if they will—my beauty—my +pet! It would be greater kindness for me to put +it out of anybody’s power to do this; but I cannot—I +cannot;” and he put his arms round her slender +neck, and leaned his head against her shoulder, the +chesnut standing still and quiet all the time, as though +she had some human comprehension of what was the +matter with him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At last she turned her head, and began rubbing it +against his breast as usual. Brian had always petted +her more than anybody else, and she in return, though +he was not her master, had been wont to follow him +about the yard and round the meadows like a dog.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must go now, beauty,” Brian said, and he +stroked her silky coat slowly—slowly. “Good-bye,” +and thinking there was no one near to see him, he +kissed the white star on her forehead, and then stepped +back and looked at her soft wondering eyes again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Good-bye, Chessy—good-bye,” and he walked +out of the stall, not knowing that Flynn and his cousin +were standing in the next box, which chanced to be +vacant, looking on at his leave-taking.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As he went the chesnut turned round in her stall, +and followed him to the door. She put her head over +the top of it, and watched him, with her great brown +sorrowful eyes, out of the stable.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>“Hasn’t she a face just like a Christian, sir?” +asked Flynn, but Maxwell never answered him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had come to the yard suspecting his cousin’s +design the moment Flynn said Mister Brian had told +him to go to the house. He had thought to catch the +boy doing mischief, and behold! he only saw that +leave-taking, which is always so pathetic, between a +man and a favourite animal.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Something about the manner of that leave-taking +caused Maxwell to walk back to the house slowly and +thoughtfully. He had got Kincorth, a valueless property, +for which he had paid a tremendous price. The +man who once stood between it and him was dead, +the man’s widow was gone, the man’s children were +departed likewise, and now as he passed from room to +room, he found each in succession desolate and deserted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He ascended the staircase and entered the chamber +he had occupied in the days which were now gone and +passed away for ever. He crossed the bare floor—he +threw open the window and looked out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the gathering twilight, the mountains seemed +frowning upon him, the trees to be sunk in gloom; and +that feeling of desperate depression he had felt for the +first time as he rode home one night, years and years +before, under the moonlight, came upon him once +more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Life was then before him: where was his life now? +Half gone—more than half gone—even if he survived +to that threescore years and ten beyond which +man’s strength is but labour and sorrow. The twenty-one +years had passed like a watch in the night, like a +tale that was told! Twenty more years, and he should +<span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>be as old as the man whom he had seen laid that day +in Eversbeg Abbey.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For twenty-one years he had been scheming, and +planning, and plotting, and his schemes had been in +the main successful—he had gained wealth, position, +houses, and lands.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Suppose he lived for twenty years more, and for +twenty to the back of that, and through the whole of +the time went on adding house to house, and acre to +acre—still the twenty, and the twenty, must come to +an end at last, and where would he be then?</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was Maxwell Drewitt’s dark hour: many such +had come to him lately; for it does not require a man +to have either a very sensitive conscience, or to think +much on holy things, to make such considerations strike +home to him at times.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On the contrary, as sickness seems most terrible to +the strong; as pain seems most dreadful to those who +have been exempt from it; as age seems most wretched +to the young; as poverty seems most frightful to the +affluent—so the very fact of a man rarely taking +courage to face this bugbear of our common mortality +is sure to make its aspect more unendurable when it +forces itself upon him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell had heard read that morning, beside his +uncle’s grave, the words which he knew must one day +be read over his own:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Man that is born of a woman hath but a short +time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up and +is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, +and never continueth in one stay.” And now, without +in the least knowing that thousands and thousands of +years before the same ideas had passed through the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span>soul of one in great distress and tribulation, the owner +of Kincorth, leaning out into the night, and looking +away to the lonely hills, was thinking precisely the +same thoughts as those to which Job in his anguish +gave utterance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is hope of a tree, if it be cut down, that it +will sprout again, and that the tender branch thereof +will not cease. Though the root thereof wax old in +the earth, and the stock thereof die in the ground; yet +through the scent of water it will bud, and bring forth +boughs like a plant. But man dieth, and wasteth +away: yea, man giveth up the ghost, and where is he? +As the waters fail from the sea, and the flood decayeth +and dryeth up: so man lieth down, and riseth not: till +the heavens be no more, they shall not awake, nor be +raised out of their sleep.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Friends, oh! friends, is there not something unutterably +mournful in the figure of that man standing +lonely, lonely as ever, in the room he had left when a +young man, so many years before? He had been +solitary then, he was solitary now; when he was lying +in his grave he could not be more alone than he felt +standing there, looking out into the night.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Beyond all that he could have expected the +wild dreams of his youth had met with fulfilment. +From the position of a dependent he had raised himself +to that of the first landed proprietor in the neighbourhood; +from beggary he had risen to wealth; from indigence, +to prosperity and consideration. If all Galway +were not his, he owned quite enough of the county to +make the name of Drewitt a wonder to tourists—a +memory in Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was not a house whose doors did not fly +<span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>open at his approach. If he had not effected all he +had intended for the people’s good—for the people’s +advancement—that certainly was more their fault +than his. He had learned, as he assured Mr. Pryor, +that a nation cannot be civilized in a day; that a love +of tidiness and of cleanliness, a desire for luxuries, +cannot be implanted in one generation, nor yet in two. +He had long comprehended that there was the same +distinction between the upper and lower classes in +Ireland in the nineteenth century as existed between +lord and serf in the earlier portions of English history; +not to the extent of a power of life and death—not +to the extent of a power of oppression, or imprisonment, +or disposal of the bodies of the poor; but the +same social difference. The lords lived in profusion, +with a certain wasteful magnificence, while their hinds +were contented with the coarsest fare. The lords went +about in grand attire, while the serfs were clothed +meanly. Between the two classes in those days there +could have been no more distinction than there is between +the rich and the poor to the present day in +Connemara; and it was this state of things which Maxwell +Drewitt at last declared to himself he was not +sent into the world to alter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The rice pot to the Hindoo,” he was wont to say, +“the potato kish to the Irish;” but the meal barrel and +the potato kish were both better supplied on the estates +belonging to Maxwell Drewitt than on the estates of +any other man in West Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had no cause to be greatly disappointed on +that score; he had done something for his countrymen +and countrywomen, and having done as much as he +thought possible without their own co-operation, Maxwell +<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>rested content. He loved Ireland better than he +loved her sons and daughters; but he loved himself +better than Ireland.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And now having gained the summit of the hill of +success, he stood on the top looking out into the night +a lonely man. Most lonely! Was this what he had +bargained for in those days of poverty and struggle? +Was this the end he had striven to reach? Was it +thus he had expected to feel when that end was compassed? +Money—station—health—position: he +possessed all these, and yet the man whom he had +followed to his grave that morning was not so lonely +as he.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is a story current in Ireland about a traitor, +by name Parese, who undertook to give the Castle of +Maynooth into the hands of an enemy of the Fitzgeralds. +He stipulated for a certain sum of money, but +forgot to stipulate also for his life; the consequence of +which oversight resulted in the “devil betraying the +betrayer,” whose head was cut off as soon as the reward +was counted out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whether this tale be true or false, we need not +stop to inquire, seeing how often analogous cases must +have come under the observation of all of us; but I +think that what happened to Parese happened also in +a great measure to Maxwell Drewitt. He had bargained +for money and power, and money and power +he had, but nothing more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When the bells that now hang in the tower of the +church of St. Nicholas, in Galway, were being cast, it +is related that from far and from near, men and women +brought their golden brooches and rings, their precious +ornaments and their stores of silver and gold, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>threw them in with the iron, to the end that all might +he fused together. And it is further stated that the +precious metals may be seen shining to this day in the +bells, and that those offerings of the faithful have +caused their tones to be peculiarly sweet and beautiful.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is a lovely legend, and all the more lovely because +it is so tenderly suggestive, so touchingly pathetic. +The men and the women who flocked to the +place where the casting went on have passed away, +and their names are forgotten on earth; but still the +bells peal out the sweet music, still their silver and +their gold make the tone fuller, the notes more exquisite.</p> + +<p class='c012'>I cannot help recalling these two stories while I +think of Maxwell standing there in the darkness, spite +of all his wealth, alone—alone! He had not bargained +for happiness, thinking success would insure +happiness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He cast no stores of love into time’s furnace on +faith that he would receive back, in some shape, principal +and interest, and lo! the dark days were advancing +towards him, and there was never a one to +take him by the hand and bid him be of good cheer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For money, he had, like Parese, sold his best +friends, deserted the woman who had trusted him, +married a wife for whom he did not care; for money +he had schemed to ruin his uncle, and when his +schemes failed, he had accomplished his purpose by +more dishonest means still. Money he had elected to +serve—Mammon had been his god, and, as has been +cleverly said, cent. per cent. his prophet; but a man +cannot serve two masters—a man cannot hoard all +his wealth, or else spend it entirely on himself, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>still hear God’s bells making sweet music in his ears—music +that never sounds so sweet as to the sick and +weary.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a preacher who once undertook to prove +that life’s voyage would be a pleasant one, even were +there no hope of land on the other side, nothing but +the long sleep and the cold grave as a finish to each +man’s story. His theory seemed to be, that there is +so much enjoyment in the goodly company, in the +lively conversation, in the health-giving breeze, in the +witty anecdote, in the daily work, as to make the +journey a desirable one in itself, without any reference +to an expected haven; and while the goodly company +is around us, while the conversation never flags, while +the sky is clear and the body strong, perhaps he may +be right. I have known many who seemed to think +so. Only, reader, how is it when man has to go below; +when he is lying in his narrow berth; when the +guests have dropped off one by one; when the voices +of the singers are hushed; when the evil days are +come and the years draw nigh when he shall say, “I +have no pleasure in them;” when the sun and the +light, and the stars and the moon be darkened, and +the clouds return after the rain—how is it then?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Standing in the gathering night—type of that +still deeper night which he would one day have to +pass through, Maxwell Drewitt was seized in the hour +of his success, in the hour of his victory, with a strange +horror—with a frightful dread. It seemed but a day +to him since he was young; it would be but a day till +he was old, and then—</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell closed the window, and groped his way +out of the room. All in darkness, he descended the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>staircase, and when he reached the hall, he took his +hat, and saying to one of the servants, “You need not +wait up for me. I shall not sleep here just at present,” +walked out of the house, and down the avenue, +under the trees, past the porter’s lodge—home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not think I shall go up to Kincorth till you +can go with me,” he said to his wife, and Lady Emmeline +looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was the first time during sixteen years she had +heard him express a wish for her companionship, and +so much affection astonished her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Further, instead of kicking her poodle out of his +way with a curse, Maxwell, thinking of that scene in +the stable of which he could not get rid, stretched his +hand towards the creature, and called it by name—“Prince—Prince!” +But Prince, unused, like its mistress, +to such attentions, only crouched behind Lady Emmeline, +who, pushing the dog off the sofa, said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go, Prince, there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come here, Prince,” added Maxwell, and he made +a movement to stroke him; but Prince backed from +the proffered caress, and, barking and growling, retreated +under the sofa.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Prince is not accustomed to your noticing him,” +said Lady Emmeline, apologetically, but Maxwell did +not seem to hear her words. He was walking up and +down the room with his hands buried in his pockets, +his head bent down, his face looking stern and thoughtful.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Has Mrs. Drewitt really left Kincorth?” asked +Lady Emmeline after a long pause.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, they are all gone,” he answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dear, dear; I am very sorry; poor things!”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>“I do not see why the devil you should be sorry +for them,” he said, stopping in his walk; “nor why +you should call them poor things. I did not want +them to go. Heaven knows, I would much rather +they had stayed. And as for their being ‘poor things,’ +they cannot be a great deal poorer than they were; and +I suspect Mrs. Drewitt knew pretty well what she was +about when she went to Durrow. Pryor is sure to +marry Geraldine, and that, you may say, will be a +provision for the family.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How very clever you are, Maxwell,” remarked +Lady Emmeline, her old face lighted up with admiration. +“Who could ever have pieced that all together +as you have done? I never should; but now it is as +clear as possible. It is not exactly nice; but still one +can scarcely blame her—can one?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Blame her! though she has placed me in a most +awkward position, I commend her prudence. Candidly, +I did not think Mrs. Drewitt had so much sense,” and +Maxwell looked as he spoke at his wife’s face, and +wondered with an unutterable astonishment how he +ever came to marry such a fright of a woman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And Mr. Pryor is so nice, and Geraldine so pretty,” +said Lady Emmeline.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The only drawback—” Maxwell began, but he +stopped in his speech suddenly and resumed his walk.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is what?” inquired his wife.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was wrong—there is no drawback,” said Maxwell, +who did not intend to make any remarks for the +future about disparity of age, if he could avoid doing +so. He had been thinking of something he meant to +ask his wife to do for him, and to compass that object +he intended to be civil to her; civil so far as it was in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>his nature to be towards any one with whom he was +thrown in daily communication.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Many a taunt he had flung at her, but he would +try to taunt no more. If she fell into his plan and +helped him to carry it out, he would bear with her +silliness; he would say nothing to her about their childless +hearth—about her rouge—her age—her +affectation. He would command his temper and his +tongue, and do his best for her, if she would do her +best for him.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI.<br> <span class='c006'>On the Way to Durrow.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Through the twilight Brian Drewitt pursued his +way over the hills to Durrow, keeping as near the sea +as the nature of the country would permit.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Instinctively he felt that the waters rolling on the +shore, that the plash of the waves which rose to his +ears, that the noise of the ocean washing up to the +base of the cliffs calmed and comforted him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When no human being could have quieted his +heart, the voices of the night and the murmurs of the +sea came round and about him, bringing tranquillity +and repose with them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>All his plans had that day been wrecked, all his +hopes had foundered. It is no easy matter to realize +the full extent of such a misfortune in a minute, and +Brian sometimes caught himself wondering about the +leases, about the grass land, about how soon the oats +would be fit to reap, even while he knew, in a dull, +stupid kind of way, that the leases, the grass lands +and the oats could never more signify anything to +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When we go out of the light we find it difficult +to see clearly in the darkness; and after the flare of +excitement in which he had been living all the day, +Brian discovered that the intense stillness, the utter +lull of human passions and human wishes around him, +prevented any distinct thoughts or plans taking shape +in his mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>For a time everything seemed mixed and confused. +He walked on like a person in a dream, now thinking +of one thing, now of another, until at last, as he drew +near Durrow, every incident of the past week came +back to his memory clearly and separately. When it +did so, Brian Drewitt threw himself down on the grass +by the edge of the cliff—lay with his face touching +the cool earth—thinking of his past, tracing out his +future.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He thought of his father; of the coldness that had +come between them; of the way in which he had +worked and struggled to free Kincorth; of how his +endeavours had fretted his parent; of how his motives +had been misunderstood, his intentions doubted; of how +Harold had been preferred to him; of how Harold had +been everything, he nothing—and Brian’s heart, as +he lay and considered these things, became a perfect +well of bitterness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But then, again, he remembered how his father’s +grey head had lain on his breast, how his father’s last +action on earth had been to stretch out his arms towards +him, and Brian’s heart was softened, and grew +exceeding tender and sorrowful within him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And the waves came rolling on the shore, slowly +and gently, and the sea washed the base of Durrow +Cliffs, and it seemed as though he could hear the +voices of the great waters coming nearer and nearer, +talking to him, mourning with him, as if they too had +suffered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He recollected what his father had said about +having left everything to him. He repeated to himself +the warning he had received years and years before. +He called up every word and look of Maxwell’s, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>and then suspicion became certainty. Kincorth <em>had</em> +been procured by fraud; though by what fraud Brian +was unable to imagine. Which idea brought him +almost to the end of his reflections on the past, by +causing him to wonder what he should do in the +future.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There, however, all seemed vague and shadowy. +He could not yet tell what he ought to do. He had +no idea on what course his mother would decide. He +must talk the matter over with Mr. Pryor; and having +settled so much, Brian rose from the ground, and +walked onwards for a little distance towards the house.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then he turned and went back to the cliff once +more, where he sat down and listened dreamily to the +song which the ocean was murmuring so far below. +Heaven knows what the waves whispered to him, what +message the soft wind brought to his soul—I only +can tell, that with hands clasped over his head, with +his face bowed forward on his knees, Brian hearkened +to the sermon which nature preached to him that +night, taking, as we all do, his own construction out +of it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>We have, most of us, some memory of this kind—some +scene that, so often as we think of any great +trouble, immediately recurs to our memory.</p> + +<p class='c012'>With one it is a forest glade, where the sunbeams +pour through the branches and make bright patterns +and golden traceries on the turf beneath; with another, +it is a bare expanse of country, upon which the winter +afternoon is darkening down; with a third, it is some +river reach, where trees overhang the waters, and the +grass looks green and beautiful on the banks, and a +boat or two is gliding past; while a fourth sees in +<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>imagination the city streets all lighted up, and full of +people hurrying—hurrying away.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But sadder to my mind than all, is the memory of +a sunset watched from a lonely seashore; a sunset seen +over a waste of angry waters, of roaring billows; or a +night-watch on the deck of a vessel, while the stormy +waves are lashing themselves to fury all around; or +such a vigil as that kept by Brian Drewitt, during +which his soul seemed to go out of him, and stand on +the shore below, greeting the white foam as it was +thrown upon the shingle, and asking the waters questions +that might only be fitly put if the ocean washed, +on one side, the sands of time, but on the other the +headlands of Eternity.</p> + +<p class='c012'>His life—it was all before him then, to make +what he would out of. His life—he had reached +that point in the highway of existence where his father +had once stood, where Maxwell had once stood, where +all those who have grown to man’s estate must surely +have paused for a moment to survey their road. His +life—what a much grander thing life would have +seemed to this youth had he looked out at it from the +windows of Kincorth instead of from the cliffs of +Durrow! And yet, to my thinking, it was in his +power to make as good a thing of his existence one +place as another; unencumbered by a mortgaged estate, +as burdened by it; free to go where he liked, instead +of being chained to one spot, and forced to make his +fortune there. For he determined to make his fortune. +He resembled Maxwell in that respect, and he resembled +him, unfortunately, in another—viz., in his +resolution to win back Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Earth fighting for earth, earth struggling after +<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>earth, earth losing its youthfulness, its innocence, its +light-heartedness to gain earth!” Did the wind and +the waves utter no such plaint as this in his ears, as +he sat listening to their voices? Had the night, +which had spoken so plainly to Maxwell, nothing to +tell Brian?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Life, oh! life—who is there that has lived, who +would not go back and try to make a better of it if +he could? Who, when the last day comes, does not +think that, if he might be permitted to retrace his +steps, to stand once more on the threshold of existence, +his prayer would be to wash his hands in innocency, +and to keep himself unspotted from the world?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Stained and soiled, torn and defiled, who does not +wish that he could commence wearing the fleshy garments +of our poor mortality once again, fondly believing +he could keep them out of the mire, and bring +them almost white to the end of the journey? And +yet, as the instrument can give forth no music till its +strings have been played upon—as we can never tell +the quality of the gold till it comes forth from the +furnace—as we know little of our own capabilities +till our strength has been tested and tried in the battlefield +of the world—so there is no man, or woman +either, who dare say that, if return were possible, a +better working out of the great problem would be +probable also.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And for these reasons I do not say that Brian +would have passed through the fire scatheless had he +laid out a different course to travel; though I believe +it would have made all the difference had he decided +to pursue his onward path without permitting hatred +to gain dominion over him—without letting envy +<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>and malice and all uncharitableness find lodging in his +young heart.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But yet it was scarcely Brian’s fault that he disliked +his cousin so intensely. He had drunk in that +enmity with his mother’s milk; he had fed on it from +his youth upward. Mrs. Drewitt was the one to blame +here. She had been pleased to see Brian at war with +Maxwell. She had done her best to make her son +hate the man who desired her son’s inheritance: for, +like all weak people, in striving only to put Brian on +his guard against his cousin’s machinations, she had +overdone her part, and caused her boy to look with +suspicion on every act of his relative—to search for +some hidden meaning under every word—to listen +greedily to stories concerning Maxwell’s wickedness, +Maxwell’s avariciousness, Maxwell’s heartlessness—to +consider the owner of the Headlands, in fact, as +the <em>bête noire</em> of the county, and to believe that honey +could as soon be bitter as any act of Maxwell Drewitt’s +good.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Add to this the well-meant warning which he had +received, and his own experience of his cousin, and +you will see that, unless Brian Drewitt made up his +mind to leave Ireland entirely, to forget Kincorth and +Connemara, and Maxwell, and to start on a new life +which should have no sort of connexion with the past, +there could be nothing between the pair but war to +the death for ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In his hour of triumph it might be that Brian +would hold out his hand to Maxwell, and contemptuously +offer him friendship as his cousin had offered +friendship to him; but even that was scarcely likely; +for in his hates Brian was more sincere than his cousin. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>He was a staunch friend, an open enemy; and if his +constitution, his education, his temperament, his country, +and his misfortunes, all tended to render him implacable, +who may blame him?</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is not so easy to turn the other cheek as those +who have never received a blow on one, would have +us believe. We are all rather more apt to fight for +our coat than to bestow our cloak on the thief also. +What man is there that, having Brian Drewitt’s strength +of character, would venture to say he could always +keep clear of that dangerous frontier ground where +strength becomes sin?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nevertheless, I would it were possible for me to +record that the voices of the night, the murmurs of the +sea, the light wind that came down from among the +tops of the hills, taught Brian a different lesson; but +alas! when the youth arose he was the same as when +he sat down; death had not softened him, suffering +had not subdued him, nature and silence had no power +to change him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When in the after years he returned to Ireland +and sat on the cliffs of Durrow, listening to the plash +of the waves, to the sighing of the wind, he would +have given all his wealth, all his influence, aye, and +his life also, if he could but have kept that sorrowful +vigil once again, and learned a different lesson out of +it—if he could but have started on his journey +through the world resolved never to look back, but +always forward.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Through the years, the sea ebbed out, and the sea +flowed in; through the years, in storm and tempest, in +calm and sunshine, the waves stole up on the sands, +and kissed the feet of the great rocks lovingly; through +<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>the years, the shore-birds built their nests, and fed +their young, and winged their flight far out over the +ocean, and then came back, with pinions weary and +drooping, to the land; through the years, the fishermen +dried their nets, and put out their lines, and pushed +off their boats; through the years, the ships went by, +staggering among the billows, or with their white sails +glistening and shining, sped onwards to their destined +haven; through the years, the sun set, and the darkness +drew on, and the great hills hid themselves behind +the curtains of the night; through the years, the deeps +never ceased calling unto one another, now softly, now +in louder tones; through the years, the youth who had +once sat and listened to them was a stranger in a +strange country, working for his daily bread.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He did not know as, at last, he walked away from +the edge of the cliff, that it would be necessary for +him to leave Connemara; on the contrary, he had some +vague idea of renting a cottage for his mother, near +Analore, and of trying to make his fortune there. He +knew that with worse land Maxwell had done well, +and although there was no Lady Emmeline for him to +marry, yet he thought that, with Mr. Pryor’s help, he +could, perhaps, still weather the storm.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must talk to him,” thought Brian, and he went +up to Durrow House, where Mrs. Connor met Brian in +the hall, and informed him that his mother and brother +and sister were all gone to bed, “tired out” as Jenny +expressed it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And Mr. Pryor?” Brian asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is staying at Eversbeg with Mr. Waller.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What’s that for?” inquired the youth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He said he thought Mrs. Drewitt would be more +<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>comfortable if she felt she had the house to herself,” +was the reply. And then Mrs. Connor went on to ask +what he would have to eat, and brought in supper +herself, and made the boy a cup of strong coffee. +Look at her as she sits in the candlelight—would +you think that from her eyes had ever fallen such +passionate tears, that she had ever pleaded so vehemently, +that she had ever loved so unavailingly, as +you can remember to have been the case?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Those calm, kind eyes look now as though sorrow +had never dimmed them. Away in her girlhood, far, +far back, lies the dream, and the grief, and the sorrow, +and the sin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>To such natures, to such gentle, loving women, +time is very kind; he refuses to wear channels in their +cheeks, to draw lines across their foreheads, to take +away their beauty, or to destroy their power of conferring +happiness upon others; and thus Jenny was +still pleasant to look upon—pleasant, though she was +young no more; though the flush of her girlish loveliness +had faded off her cheeks, though the warm +brightness of her hair was dulled, though the years +that had come and gone could not come and go without +leaving traces behind them, still Jenny was pretty +still, and Brian, who liked her greatly, found her face +pleasant, as I have said, to look on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had she done wrong to marry? Jenny’s nature, +facile as it was, had yet set itself resolutely against +marrying or giving in marriage; but time, as it passed +by, worked wonders, and Connor’s patient devotion +and enduring constancy prevailed at last. All were +dead who knew her secret—all save Maxwell and +one other; and so, after ten years, she married, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>came, as we have seen, with her husband to take +charge of the great house at Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor’s agency was of course immense promotion +to Connor. There was a wonderful difference +between living at Durrow Park and in Duranmore +Cottage. Altogether, the Connors were rising people, +greatly loved by the poor, and much appreciated by +their employer; and Brian could not help thinking; +while Jenny coaxed him to eat, and set dainty viands +before him, that the Englishman had been fortunate; +that no man and no woman could have been found in +the length and breadth of Connemara likely to suit +him better.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For many a day Jenny and Brian had been friends. +She it was who, seeing the boy idling away his time, +sought opportunity and occasion to give him the caution +he spoke of to Mr. Pryor; and now, when all his +struggles, all his efforts had proved of no avail, Mrs. +Connor spoke tearfully of the sorrow that had come +upon them, and told the son how deeply she grieved +for his mother.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You must be a good boy to her,” she said; “you +must make up to her for what she has lost.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes,” answered Brian, “and I mean to try and +give her back what she has lost.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You cannot give her back the dead,” Mrs. Connor +remarked, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No; but I may give her back Kincorth,” the +youth replied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Brian,” began Jenny, “since ever I came +to Duranmore I have heard of Kincorth—heard of +it as a bone of contention, as a place about which +there had been quarrels, and broils, and heart-burnings, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>generation after generation. But for Kincorth, maybe +your cousin might have been a better man: not that I +have any reason to speak ill of him,” she went on +hurriedly; “for though I am afraid he did put Timothy +out of Mr. Waller’s agency, still he has stood his friend +since, and he has been very kind to Dennis; but still +everybody knows, unless by chance his wife, that Mr. +Maxwell has not been a good man, which I think he +might only for Kincorth——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How do you make that out, Mrs. Connor?” asked +Brian, pushing away his plate as he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are not eating a bit,” said Jenny, piteously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Never mind me,” answered the young man. “You +were speaking about Maxwell: how do you think Kincorth +made him what he is?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, this way,” she replied. “He always thought +himself wronged, you know, and it is not for anybody +to say, Mr. Brian, that your grandfather did the thing +that was right when he passed by his own eldest son +and left all to your father. Do you think, Mr. Brian, +it would have been fair for Mr. Drewitt to cut you +out for Master Harold? Would it, now?” and Jenny’s +voice grew quite earnest and pathetic as she pleaded +the cause of the man she had once loved too well.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Putting it in that way, Mrs. Connor, I must +agree with you,” he answered; “but then it was not +with Maxwell a question between brother and brother, +but between uncle and nephew. If George Drewitt +had been bitter about the matter, I must say his feelings +would have seemed to me perfectly natural, and +if Harold had superseded me, perhaps I should have +felt angry too. That, however, would have been no +reason why my son should feel himself injured. There +<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>is no just cause why Maxwell should have imagined +Kincorth belonged of right to him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, there was, Mr. Brian,” she persisted. “Your +father said he would never marry, and then he did +marry. He promised to be a father to his brother’s +children, and then——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Connor, he was buried to-day; let what he +did and what he left undone be buried with him,” +Brian interrupted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I beg your pardon,” she said, humbly, and the +tears came up into her eyes as she saw how hurt the +lad was. “He was a good man and a true, even if he +did leave many a thing undone he ought to have seen +to; and all I meant to say was, that as Kincorth has +been a curse and a snare to your cousin, I hope and +pray, Mr. Brian, you will never let it be either to you. +Sure there’s many a place as nice in Ireland. To my +fancy, this house, with its look-out over the sea, is +heartsomer than those woods and mountains”—poor +Jenny! she shivered as she spoke—“and I think +Dennis is right in saying you are better without so +large a property so heavily mortgaged. And, indeed,” +finished Jenny, “if I was a young gentleman I would +not stay in these parts at all. I would go to England, +and see the world, and make money, and come back +here maybe for a month or two in the year, as Mr. +Pryor does, but no longer. For many and many a +day before I was married I used to wish I could go +away. I did—I did.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have not a notion what I shall do yet,” Brian +answered, while he took another cup of coffee from +her. “There is one thing, however, I do know—that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>wherever I go I shall always feel grateful to you +for making me what I am. But for you I do not +think I should have been fit for anything; and now I +do not feel afraid of turning out into the world to earn +my bread.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I told you before, Mr. Brian, that your mother +had been my friend once in a time of bitter trouble, +and that if at any hour of the day or night I could +serve her or hers I would get up to do it. You have +no call to feel grateful to me. There is nothing I +could do for her, God knows, that would be half enough—not +half.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I cannot fancy your ever having had a trouble, +Mrs. Connor,” said the lad. She was the same in +middle age as she had been in youth, a woman who +took men’s fancies, to whom it came easy and natural +for them to talk. “You look as if you never could +have known a care.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do I?” and she dropped her head forward for a +moment on her hands. “There are few who come to +my time of life,” she went on, “that have not met +trouble; but there are few who, when in trouble, find +such a friend as I did in your mother. If I could +have died to keep this grief from her, Mr. Brian, I +would have done it. You may think that strange +now, having both Dennis and the children to value +my life for; but I would, and it is because I love her, +and because I love you for her sake, that I bid you +quit caring for Kincorth—that I want you to make +her quit caring for it too.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian turned away. He could not bear to think of +his mother dependent even for a shelter on the kindness +of friends, on the courtesy of strangers.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>For himself it would not have mattered, but for +her—</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was the keystone of the lad’s character; that +was what had made a man of him, whilst in years he +was yet a boy—love for her—love for the mother +who had not been true to her first allegiance, but who +had loved two other babies since, and her last child, +Harold, most of all.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What am I to do?” he asked after a pause; +“how can I make her cease caring for her home, for +the place to which she came a wife, which she has +left a widow? Tell me, Mrs. Connor,” he added, +“what made you think so many years ago that Maxwell +was determined to have Kincorth; what induced +you to warn me; I should like to know that now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, then, you cannot know,” she replied, taking +one of the candles off the table; “for I shall not tell +you. If I had to do it again, I am not sure that I +should act as I did then, though I meant my warning +for your good;” and with that Jenny stretched out her +hand a little hesitatingly towards Brian, who stooped +and kissed it as though she had been a queen. As he +did so Jenny tore her hand away and broke out crying +hysterically.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Have I offended you, Mrs. Connor?” he said, +standing abashed at his boyish gallantry; which was +no impertinence, but an act of pure, and honest homage, +and liking. “I am very sorry; I never meant to vex +you. Forgive me—pray, forgive!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Forgive!” she cried; “what have I to forgive? +only, Mr. Brian, don’t do that again—don’t. And +may God bless—and may God keep you!”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>Having completed which intelligible sentence Mrs. +Connor left the room, only turning back at the door to +suggest that Brian should accompany her and see the +apartment which had been prepared for him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Try to get some sleep,” were her parting words; +and worn out in body and in mind, Brian followed her +advice, and was soon forgetful alike of past, present, +and future.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII.<br> <span class='c006'>Another Difficulty.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>“I have been considering the suggestion you made +about Analore, Brian,” Mr. Pryor said one morning, +a fortnight after Mr. Drewitt’s funeral; “but I should +not advise you to commence operations there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why not?” asked Brian. He had been over to +Analore, and seen the foundations built up of the +house his father had intended for his residence, and +had drawn the granite for some twenty years before. +“I think a good deal might be made of it, and with a +comparatively small outlay, too. The land is very fair—fair, +of course I mean, for Connemara; and my +mother would be only too glad to let me do the best I +could with it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That I supposed; but the reason I object to your +doing anything with Analore is, that it would scarcely +answer your purpose, to spend your youth, money, +and time in reclaiming another person’s property. +To farm land is a very different affair from reclaiming +it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But my mother’s interests and mine are identical. +What is best for her must be best for me; and if I +reclaim Analore it will be quite as much to the advantage +of all of us as of one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We need not discuss that question,” answered Mr. +Pryor, “since it has nothing to do with the matter. +What I mean is this: Analore only belongs to your +<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>mother for life; and though I trust she will stay with +us till her hair is white, still you would not care to +plough and drain and sow and plant for your cousin’s +benefit.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He has nothing to do with Analore. It will surely +belong to me—or to all of us after——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your mother’s death. No, Brian, it will not; and +it is very lucky that before you began to delve and +dig I looked into her settlement. I cannot imagine how +any lawyer could overlook the probability of her having +a family; but that it has been overlooked is certain. +Analore belongs to your mother for life, and to Maxwell +afterwards. It would have belonged to you had +your father died intestate. Unless your father were +swamped with debt at the time of his marriage, and +that some pressure was brought to bear upon him, the +whole affair is inexplicable; but no one can alter the +wording now, and it is for this reason I say you had +better do nothing with Analore; because, in the first +place, you would be spending your strength on another +man’s property; and, in the second, you would—supposing +any one advanced money on the place—have +to insure your mother’s life to secure the lender against +loss.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Beaten,” said Brian, “at every turn;” and the +pair walked on a step or two in silence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You will not tell my mother,” were the next words +spoken.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why not? I think it is much better for your +mother to understand exactly how you are situated,” +replied Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Harold and Geraldine?” Brian said; and the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>Englishman understood that he meant it would pain +Mrs. Drewitt to know they would be totally penniless.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have been down with Neill,” Brian went on; +“but he can tell me nothing about the missing will. +He says he gave it back to my father himself; but +that he has some impression the will was returned to +his office; that is, he says, he remembers my father +making some mention of either having left it with +Ryan—who was then Neill’s clerk—or of his having +intended to do so.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Rather vague,” remarked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then I went to Ryan. ‘Upon my word, Mr. +Brian,’ he said, ‘if I knew where that will was I +would tell you; but Mr. Drewitt never gave it back +to me.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>“‘Mr. Neill thinks my father said something to him +about having returned it.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>“‘Burned it—depend upon it that was what he +said.’</p> + +<p class='c012'>“‘But why should he burn the one and not the +other?’ I inquired.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“‘My opinion is,’ he said, ‘that he forgot all about +the other, he was so mighty keen on, just at that time, +aye, and indeed for long after you thought he had +done with Mr. Neill, considering how he could leave +your brother independent of you, that it is not for me, +or you, or anybody to say what he did or what he +did not do, what he thought or what he did not +think.’ And then what do you think he proposed?” +asked Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have not the remotest idea.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He offered to lend me five hundred pounds to +work Analore. I asked him if it was Maxwell’s; but +<span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>he said every penny of it was his own that he had +made by hard work. ‘I tried to keep it, thinking my +sister might want it some day,’ he added; ‘but if you +have it, she can ask for it should she need it, and it +may be of use to you now.’”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, Brian?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, Mr. Pryor, I refused it, of course; but +wasn’t it good of him? As I came home, I called +again on Mr. Neill, and told him what Ryan said. ‘It +is very possible,’ was all I could get out of him. Then +I inquired if my father had been with him after the +mortgage was transferred, and he said, ‘Yes, often.’ +‘About leaving Harold independent of me,’ I inquired, +and Mr. Neill nodded. So I am beaten there again, +you see—beaten again.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you think of doing now?” asked Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Of trying my old scheme. I should like to get a +situation and endeavour to push my way.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Right; you cannot do better than adhere to that +resolution.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dan Glynn offers, as you know, two hundred and +fifty pounds a year for Analore. I do not think, if I +am not to farm it, that we can do better.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Perhaps not. What does Mr. Dan Glynn expect +to make out of it?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Potheen, I suspect,” said Brian, laughing; “but +does that signify to us?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not in the least, if he pays his rent; and at any +rate it will be much less trouble to look up one man +than twenty or thirty tenants. He will not turn the +present occupiers out?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They are only occupiers of the ground, you +<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>know,” replied Brian; “there is but one hut on the +fifteen hundred acres, and that has the roof off it. +Glynn, however, will not send any of them adrift. He +will keep them all to help.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And now, with regard to this plan of your mother’s +about living in Dublin? Do you not think she +had better stay on for a year, at any rate, at Durrow? +The house is there, and empty, and——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think she would be happier away,” Brian interrupted. +“In a house of her own, no matter how +small, she would feel more settled than she could ever +do at Durrow; and besides, Mr. Pryor, there is Harold—we +must get him away from Connemara, at all +hazards.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He would be better away certainly, and he must +do something to earn his living; but, Brian, promise +me now—promise faithfully you will not encourage +this notion of Mrs. Drewitt’s about going to law: she +has not an inch of ground to stand upon, and it would +be beggary. You have no idea how soon law runs +away with money; and she could about as soon overturn +Bennobeola, as put your cousin out of Kincorth +now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not even if that codicil were proved to be a +forgery?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How could it be proved such?” asked Mr. Pryor; +but Brian remained silent, and the barrister went on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will be perfectly frank with you in this matter. +I believe that codicil to be a forgery. I thought so +the moment I heard it read. I thought it because of +many trivial circumstances I had noticed previously. +But you could never convert a jury to the same +opinion; it would be waste of time, of money, and of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>patience to attempt such a thing. The solicitor who +made the original will, and who, it is supposed, added +the codicil, has been paralyzed these six years, and +has now lost all power of speech. The witnesses are +dead. It is the distance of time, you see, that is so +much against us. In law, the codicil is perfectly regular, +and what is worse, perfectly natural. Mr. Neill +explains the absence of another will; and we have no +reason to suppose that Mr. Neill speaks otherwise than +truthfully. As for your father’s talk on his death-bed +about having left the place to you, the first question +would be, was he delirious at all during his last illness? +and what could Sheen answer but that he frequently +wandered? It is quite one thing, you see, to +be satisfied oneself, and quite another to satisfy a jury. +For which reasons, take my advice, and leave Kincorth +to its fate. After all, the estate is not worth the +trouble. Your father did not leave it as he got it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian winced. No one let him imagine Maxwell +had secured so great a prize as he wanted to believe.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You will go out into the world,” went on Mr. +Pryor, “and make your fortune, and forget all about +Kincorth, as I have forgotten all about my disappointment +when I was beaten at Duranmore before you +were born. We will get you something to do, and +you shall do it, and be a rich man yet; richer than +Maxwell, perhaps, and much happier, we will hope.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Having uttered which sanguine expectation, Mr. +Pryor mounted his horse, and without asking Brian to +accompany him, rode straight to Duranmore. The +first person he went to was Mr. James Butler, with +whom he had a long and confidential chat. Having +put up his horse at the “Marsden Arms,” he walked +<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>from The Retreat to Mr. Neill’s office in Duranmore, +and satisfied himself Mr. Neill, at any rate, was not +one of the conspirators. From Mr. Neill’s office he +crossed over to Mr. Ryan’s, and after taking the chair +that was nervously handed to him, he commenced the +conversation by thanking the lawyer for his friendly +offer to Mr. Brian Drewitt, “about which offer,” he +added, “I have come to speak to you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Indeed! it is very kind,” and Mr. Ryan looked +as though he would have liked to skulk round the +corner of the next street and get a glass of whiskey +before proceeding to business.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not at all; it is only my duty. I am quite certain +when you made so liberal a proposal that you +were not aware of the actual position of affairs regarding +Analore, and a five hundred pound legacy is not +one which it is safe to jeopardize. Uncles do not die +every day—do they, Mr. Ryan?” added the barrister, +mercilessly following every thought which was passing +through his listener’s mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is considering now whether he told Brian it +was a legacy,” thought Mr. Pryor; while Mr. Ryan answered, +vaguely, “That they did not indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And most probably, if anything went astray with +this five hundred, you have no further expectations +from your relatives?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“None, sir, none—he was the last;” and Mr. +Pryor wondered whether Mr. Ryan had any idea of +weeping.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is precisely what I thought: you have got +five hundred pounds to lend, but you have not got five +hundred pounds to lose. Analore is not a desirable +<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>property, therefore, for you to risk anything upon, +since Mrs. Drewitt has no power of mortgaging it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you mean, sir?—what do you mean?” +and Mr. Pryor saw at once that his suspicion about +Ryan being mixed up in this matter also, was unfounded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Precisely what I say. Mrs. Drewitt has only a +life interest in Analore. At her death it reverts to +Maxwell Drewitt.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And the children?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Have not a sixpence in the world.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The Lord help them!” exclaimed Mr. Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He had need,” answered the other, a little bitterly, +“for it would seem that they are not likely to get +much help from man. Mr. Ryan,” he went on, “probably +you know the mystery of that marriage settlement—of +course nothing can make a better or a +worse of it now—but as a simple matter of curiosity, +I should like greatly to know how such an instrument +came to be drawn.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was not Mr. Maxwell’s solicitor then, sir. I had +nothing to do with him then at all, I assure you, +sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Of course not; and that is the reason why I ask +you for information on the subject—as a mere matter +of curiosity.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not know anything about it, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you quite certain? Was no pressure put on +Mr. Drewitt?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There might have been: if there were it wasn’t +by me. I was only a beginner then. I had no good +clients at all.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nor any five hundred pound legacies, we may +<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>suppose, Mr. Ryan,” said the other, with a smile. “I +hope you are getting good interest.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I—I haven’t put it out yet—I have it in +hand.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then your amiable relative has died recently, I +presume?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Within the last three months.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What a strange people you Irish are!” remarked +the other, rising to depart. “You get a five hundred +pound legacy, offer to lend it to a mere lad on no +sufficient security, and still grudge the expense of a +hat-band to prove how sincerely you deplore the +dead!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The two men were standing and their eyes met. +In a moment Mr. Pryor knew that what he had +suspected was true; and Mr. Ryan knew the Englishman +was in possession of his secret. Then Mr. Pryor said +good-morning, and was going away, but the other detained +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“For God’s sake, Mr. Pryor,” he said, laying a +hand on his shoulder, “never mention what you are +now thinking to any one. He would kill me, he +would. If ever you hear of my being found dead by +the roadside, with a bullet through me, you will know +whose bullet it is; though as likely as not some innocent +man may be hung for the murder.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why do you not leave the country?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will if you drive me to it,” was the significant +answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Drewitt intends to contest the will,” remarked +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Does she?—then I wish her well out of her +troubles,” replied Mr. Ryan. “If need were, he’d take +<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>it from court to court for twenty years. She has not +an inch of ground; you must see that yourself. There +is some law place in London that they say it is as +bad for a man to get into as for a cat to go through +hell without her claws. Well, Mrs. Drewitt will find +going to law with her nephew as bad as that, or +worse.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And yet you have been his friend for twenty +years?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Have I?—more fool Timothy Ryan; that is all +I have got to say: but friend or no friend can make +no difference about Mrs. Drewitt. You can just tell +her in confidence, out of your own mind as it were, +that those who sup with the devil need to have a long +spoon.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The notion tickled the barrister’s fancy, and he +laughed outright.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think Mrs. Drewitt would be greatly surprised +if I did,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Surprised or not, it is the truth I’m telling you; +but I would not tell it to you if himself wasn’t safe in +Dublin at this blessed minute.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If he is in Dublin, he is in Duranmore as well,” +answered Mr. Pryor. “I see his chesnut mare at +the door, and I see him throwing the reins to his +groom.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Lord save us! I think he is the devil,” murmured +Ryan, nervously shuffling among his papers. “Good-morning, +sir—good-morning,” he added aloud as his +visitor reached the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I beg your pardon,” said the owner of Kincorth, +who was entering the office as the Englishman left it; +“your most obedient, Mr. Pryor,” and he almost swept +<span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>the floor with his hat, his mocking bow was so low +and deferential.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Without answering him by a word, Mr. Pryor +bowed in acknowledgment and passed out, while Maxwell +walking straight up to Ryan, took him by the +arm.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What brought him here?” said the great man, +looking his accomplice full in the face, as if expecting +him to falter in his reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But desperation gave Ryan courage. “He came to +inquire about Mrs. Drewitt’s settlement.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What about it?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She has it only for her lifetime, with no remainder +to her children. He seemed to think I knew +all about it, but I did not. I told him it was the first +I had heard of the matter.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell dropped his hold of Mr. Ryan’s arm, and +leaning over the back of a chair, indulged in a long +low whistle of delight.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Better and better,” he said. “I did not know +that either, Ryan. I did not,” he repeated, noticing +a look of incredulity on the lawyer’s face. “Do you +imagine I have had time to read over every paper +concerning the property since I came into possession +of it? No such thing. I shall find plenty to pay, I +expect, when I do take that trouble. But if this should +prove to be correct, we may as well make her an offer +for Analore. You can write on chance, Ryan, and +tell her she shall have three hundred a-year for Analore +if she likes the offer; or should she prefer to sell her +life interest, I will take the place off her hands.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“When shall I write, Mr. Drewitt?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“To-day, if you choose—yes, better do it at +<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>once, for I should like to have Analore,” answered +Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Acting upon which suggestion, Ryan penned a +polite epistle to Mrs. Drewitt, who at once declined +the proposal.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Having already let Analore,” she finished.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, it cannot be helped,” sighed Maxwell; “and, +besides, it is only for her life.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Only for her life!” echoed back some mocking +fiend within him: “she is not more than two years +older than you! Only for her life!—you may be +dead before her; and then, to whom will you leave +Kincorth, and the Headlands, and Cherryfield, and the +property in the Joyce country, and Analore?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell had decided that point. There was a +boy finishing his education at a very select school in +the county Wicklow, whom he meant to make his heir, +whom he intended to send to one of the English universities +and bring up in the way he should go.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a boy to inherit—but alas! that could +not make the idea of “passing away” at all more endurable +to the man, who, though he had no fear of +God, had yet an intense horror of death.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII.<br> <span class='c006'>Harold in Trouble.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>It was summer once again: summer twelve months +after the events recorded in the last few chapters, and +Mrs. Drewitt and Brian, and Harold and Geraldine, +were living far away from Duranmore, far beyond the +Connemara Alps, far beyond sound of the great ocean +that washes the headlands of the “wild west.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian had got a situation in Dublin, which however +necessitated frequent absences from home. He +was working hard, and giving great satisfaction to his +employers; and Mrs. Drewitt, who had greatly crippled +her income by feeing lawyers and running after all +manner of people who advised her to dispute her husband’s +will, resided with Harold and Geraldine in a +small house in the outskirts of Dublin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>From whence Harold walked into the city every +morning, and sat at a desk from nine o’clock till four; +an amusement he was never weary of grumbling about; +while his mother, likewise, never wearied in commiserating +him for it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the present, as in the past, it was Harold she +pitied, Harold she loved; it was the bold-eyed, bright-faced +boy she clung to—her youngest born—the +Benjamin of her life to her!</p> + +<p class='c012'>Such likings are natural, perhaps; but they do not +generally tend to make matters pleasanter in the family +circle, and perhaps it was quite as well that Brian’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>occupation took him much from home, as otherwise he +might have had less patience than was the case with +Harold’s repinings—with Harold’s conduct.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For Harold was the same in Dublin as he had +been in Connemara—wild, reckless, dissipated. His +acquaintances were none of the most desirable, his life +none of the most regular; but still the mother would +not see—the mother would not believe.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was her darling, and nothing it was in his +power to do could make him otherwise. When he +found she came to meet him in the summer afternoons, +he walked by a circuitous route home; when he found +she sat up for him at night, he came home early, went +to bed with the rest of the household, and then stole +down in his stocking-soles, with his boots in his +hand, and let himself out, taking the door-key with +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of course their servant—who was often unfastening +the shutters when Harold reappeared—knew of +these pranks; but she had never the heart to tell his +mother.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And if she had told Mrs. Drewitt, what difference +could it have made? His mother had no influence over +him—none whatever. He had nothing to say but +“I will leave the house,” or “I will go and ask food +and lodging from Maxwell,” and she was silent at +once.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whenever Maxwell came to Dublin, which was not +seldom, Harold always dined with him, and always +came back reeling drunk.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Told him—I—bore—no grudge—welcome +to—Madcap—poor—old—girl,” the young +<span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>rascal would hiccup out, and when induced to go to +bed, he invariably did so under protest, retiring from +view between the sheets in his boots, coat, waistcoat +and trousers, and refusing to let go of Mary’s hand—Mary +was their maid-of-all work—until she promised +to call him early.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t f—get, Marish. If you’re waking—you +know—call me early, Marish dear.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And indeed had it not been for Mary’s repeated +calls, Harold could hardly have kept his situation so +long as was the case.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Damn business—curse work!” I think that was +the refrain of almost every sentence Harold Drewitt +uttered for some months after starting in the world on +his own account, and Mrs. Drewitt listened sympathetically, +and would oftentimes confide to Mary, the +maid-of-all-work before honourably mentioned, the fact, +“that she thought that office was killing her poor boy—he +looked so pale, and ill, and thin since he left +the country.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mary had her own opinions, which, seeing Master +Harold was the lamb without blemish in his mother’s +eyes, she wisely kept to herself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But even the fondest parent cannot remain blind +for ever, and accordingly there came a time when Mrs. +Drewitt, instead of pitying Harold, went up to her own +room and wept; when she prayed him not to go to the +hotel where Maxwell stopped while in town; when she +entreated him to remember that by business he must +live, and that to live he must work.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Look at Brian,” she would remark, and the injudicious +speech invariably made Harold shrug his +shoulders, and declare Brian “never was fit to be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>anything better than a horse in a mill, or a counting-house +drudge, or a pack-horse which he is,” finished +Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now Harold, do not say such things of Brian!” +Geraldine would exclaim, her cheeks all a-glow; and +then Harold was wont to laugh and declare—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! we all know what makes you so much in +love with business; don’t we, mamma?” For which +speech Mrs. Drewitt invariably pulled Master Harold +up.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In her heart, the mother did not like the way in +which Mr. Gyton was always running over from London; +she wished he would either propose or stay away; +and yet, she argued, a man must have some opportunity +for making up his mind. Altogether, I cannot +say that the position of the Drewitt family was one +perfectly free from care; but still time travelled on—on—and +the seasons came and went; as they will +do whether people are happy or whether people are +sad.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was summer once again, and though there is, +perhaps, no town in the three kingdoms where the +country seems so near and stone walls so little oppressive +as in Dublin, still Mrs. Drewitt missed the hills, +and the valleys, and the ocean more than she would +have cared to acknowledge.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She had loved Connemara, and she had no other +strong ties to any part of the earth. Mother, and +father, and sister, had long been dead, and Sir Everard +Ebbutt was married again, and her sister’s children +were very aristocratic young ladies, who would scarcely +have cared to acknowledge so very unfortunate an individual +for their aunt. Altogether, she mourned +<span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>greatly after Connemara; and many a time when she +and Geraldine were walking along the Monkstown +Road, or pacing slowly round Stephen’s Green, or +sitting at work together in their modestly-furnished +house, the poor lady would say suddenly—“I wonder +how the Twelve Pins are looking now, Geraldine! +Must not the sea seem calm seen from Durrow cliffs +to-day?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, mamma,” Geraldine would answer, a little +guiltily conscious that she had kept one thing from +her mother’s knowledge, viz., her own refusal of Durrow +and its owner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She could have given a comfortable home for life +to her mother; she could have let her spend all the +remaining days of her life among the scenes and the +people she had learned to love so much—and she +refused.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had she done right? For many days Geraldine +pondered that question over and over again, and at last +took courage and referred it to her mother.</p> + +<p class='c012'>They were sitting side by side in one of the loneliest +parts of the Phœnix Park—in one of the glades +where the blackberries and the brambles grow—and +in reply to a remark from Mrs. Drewitt about the quietness +being pleasant—about the place being almost +as solitary as Connemara, though so close to Dublin, +Geraldine took her mother’s hand in hers, and said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mamma, I want to ask you something.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He has proposed”—that was Mrs. Drewitt’s first +idea, as she beheld her daughter’s face covered with +blushes. “He has proposed”—the “he” having reference +to Mr. Gyton, who was at that present moment +galloping as fast as an Irish horse could take him to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>the Broadstone Terminus, whence he was soon travelling, +at the mild pace which seems in fashion across the +Channel by express train, to Galway.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish you were coming down with me, old +fellow,” he said to Harold Drewitt, who had accompanied +him to the station, and who stood with his +hands on the top of the carriage-door, looking very +wretched and disconsolate. “A run into Connemara +would do you good.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know that,” Harold answered, mournfully.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ask leave, and come down on Saturday. There +is a car or something that will bring you on from Galway +to Durrow in no time; and my uncle will be delighted. +Shall I tell him to expect you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t see how I can get away,” hesitated the +boy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nonsense; come on Saturday. Remember, I shall +be looking out for you. Good-bye;” and the train +steamed away from the platform, and went leisurely +onwards into the country, through which it proceeded +in a quiet, inoffensive manner, stopping at all sorts of +out-of-the-way stations, where no passengers ever +seemed to get in or out; but where there was always a +knot of idlers collected to see the engine and carriages, +as if the seventh wonder of the world were taking a +little tour through Ireland.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No need to ask where one is,” remarked Mr. Gyton +to a fellow-passenger, who chanced to be an Englishman; +“battered hats, short pipes, ragged clothes, and +plenty of policemen—I beg their pardons—of the +constabulary force.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Fine country, though,” returned the other.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“So I am told,” answered Mr. Gyton, drily.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>“And the women are so handsome! positively, +walking about Dublin yesterday I met hundreds of +lovely faces!” pursued the enthusiastic gentleman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The town is not large,” remarked his companion, +“and it is within the bounds of possibility that you +may have met the same faces many times over.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is something in that,” considered the +other.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And then,” continued Mr. Gyton, “if you pay +particular attention to the subject, you will observe +that most Irishwomen—the women who wear gloves +I mean—have a slit in those gloves; either the lady’s +hands are plump, in which case there is an aperture at +the side; or her fingers are long, in which case the +nails make a way for themselves through the tips; or +the articles are of an inferior make, which causes gaps +about the thumb; or they are too small and refuse to +button. I have made gloves my study,” added the +young swell, “and I never get into a railway carriage +in which there is a woman without adding to my stock +of information. I came up from Kingston yesterday +morning with a young lady, and ’pon my honour, for +a long time I thought she had on mittens, she was out +at every finger down to the middle joint!” and Mr. +Gyton complacently surveyed his own well-fitting +glove, towards which his companion’s glance was directed +also.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you smoke?” asked the younger man at last, +presenting his cigar-case to the stranger, who, being +graciously pleased to avail himself of the offered politeness, +lit one of Mr. Gyton’s prime Havannah’s, and +the pair, stretched out one on each side the carriage, +smoked until they reached Mullingar, at which point +<span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>they abandoned their cigars, and wrapping their railway +rugs about them, slept on until the guard came to +collect the tickets and to inform them that “when they +reached the next station they’d be there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A most original and valuable piece of information,” +remarked Mr. Gyton, yawning desperately. “Now +what do you make out of that—we shall be there? +Does he mean we shall be at the next station, or at +Galway?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The next station is Galway,” replied the other, +referring to his time-table, and failing in his sleepy +condition of mind to perceive any wit in the young +man’s brilliant remarks. “I hope we shall be able to +get a bed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If my memory serves me right, you can have +your choice of about a hundred,” answered Mr. Gyton, +collecting his effects, and humming an opera air softly +the while.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was the “he” to whom Mrs. Drewitt had +mentally referred while waiting for the rest of her +daughter’s sentence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You often talk, mamma, about Connemara, about +the mountains, about the Atlantic, about those exquisite +little bays, about all sorts of things, in fact,” and +Geraldine leaned back her head till it rested gently on +her mother’s shoulder as she spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, love.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Would you like to go back there, mamma—to +go back to live?” and the evening sunbeams rested +upon the pair, upon the deep mourning of mother and +child, and Mrs. Drewitt stretched out her hand towards +those patches of golden light as though she could touch +and retain them.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>“That would depend, Geraldine,” was the answer. +“Home to me is now wherever my children are: if you +were all in Connemara, I should love the West; as you +are all in Dublin, I am learning to love it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are certain, sure, positive, mamma?” and the +pretty head nestled itself down on Mrs. Drewitt’s +shoulder as well as was possible, considering the millinery +miracle, which seemed to be stuck on the top of +various rolls and twists of hair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Certain, love—why?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Because, mamma, we might all go back to Connemara—to +Durrow, if I were to marry Mr. Pryor. He +asked me, and I said no; and I have been miserable +ever since—wondering, wondering, whether it was +not wrong of me, when we are so poor, and when he +likes me so much.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a long pause, during the continuance of +which Mrs. Drewitt held her daughter’s hand in hers, +and stroked it slowly, slowly, very tenderly and very +gently. “Poor fellow,” she said at last, and Geraldine +began to cry.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Have I done wrong, mamma? have I done +wrong?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You do not love him, darling?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, mamma.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You would only marry him for the sake of Durrow, +and for what he might do for me, and Harold, +and Brian?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, mamma.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then, Geraldine, you have done quite right, and +never vex yourself about the matter again. Only it is +a pity of him, a great pity!” And Mrs. Drewitt took +<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>up her daughter’s hand and commenced stroking it +once more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I felt that, mamma,” whispered the girl, “but I +could not help saying no. I thought only of myself +then; but I have cried myself to sleep many a night +since thinking about you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My poor child, and I never knew anything about +it,” said the mother, sorrowfully.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I could not tell you. I was afraid you might +be vexed; I was vexed myself, and——” Geraldine +paused.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And what, darling?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh, mamma—mamma!” that was all the confession, +but it was enough. The mother knew the +daughter’s secret, and the daughter knew her mother +understood the whole business without another word +being spoken.</p> + +<p class='c012'>They sat on for a few minutes longer in silence, +and then they walked home side by side still saying +little, and that little having no connexion with the +subject on which they had been talking.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Drewitt made no further remark, asked no +single question; only that night Geraldine cried herself +to sleep in her mother’s arms, and until the early +dawning of the summer’s morning Mrs. Drewitt lay +awake, and thought about the husband she should see +no more on earth—about the children whose future +seemed so vague and uncertain.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Harold, the household had not much of a +life with him until he worried permission out of his +employers to grant him a holiday; then the very same +evening he started for Galway, and worked his way +<span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>thence by car and coach to Duranmore, where Mr. +Pryor met him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your letter and Frank’s must have crossed each +other,” he said. “He left for Dublin by the first train +from Galway this morning, and wrote begging you to +meet him at Morrison’s.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then we both slept at the same hotel last night, +and never knew it,” said Harold, disconsolately; “will +he be long in Dublin?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Only a few hours. He leaves to-night for Holyhead, +and is going direct to London. His father is +very ill.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Wasn’t it queer we should both be in Galway +together, and never know it?” repeated Harold, whose +sympathies were none of the keenest, and who would +not have cared very much who lived or who died +providing he had his little comforts. Mr. Pryor, though +he had known much more singular coincidences in the +course of his life, agreed that it was “queer,” while he +gave the reins into Harold’s eager hands, and let him +drive back the ten miles to Durrow within the hour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For the sister’s sake, Mr. Pryor was very kind to +Harold, though his affection for the boy had never +been overwhelming, and consequently Harold found +his stay in Connemara exceedingly pleasant, and was +very much grieved—grieved to the extent of tears +when he had to leave.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My time’s up,” he said disconsolately to Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is it?” remarked that gentleman, sympathetically; +“you must get leave to come and see me next +summer.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>“Ay; but that is such a devilishly long time to look +forward to,” answered Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You must employ the interval in breaking yourself +of a bad habit,” Mr. Pryor observed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is that?” asked Harold, quickly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Swearing,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is no harm in swearing—everybody swears +but you.” Fancy the feelings of a middle-aged gentleman +who was obliged to bear such speeches from a +lad. “I don’t know a fellow that does not swear,” +went on Harold; “but then, to be sure, all the fellows +I know are young.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>It would have done Mr. Pryor good to have pitched +Master Harold over Durrow cliff, but one cannot always +do as one likes in this world, and he refrained.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You may think I am making fun,” resumed the +boy, “but I am not: next summer does seem a devilishly +long time away—that is not swearing, it is +truth—and I sometimes feel when I am looking about +me here that I am looking for the last time—you +may laugh if you like, but I do.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What does the lad mean?” marvelled Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Just what I say; neither more nor less: maybe I +may see Connemara again, and maybe not; but most +likely maybe not. I have gone to every place I could +think of to-day, and said good-bye. I feel that I shall +never come back—never—never—never.” And +the boy twined his hand in the branch of a tree against +which he was leaning, and, resting his head on his +arm, sobbed aloud.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Would you rather not return to Dublin at present?” +asked Mr. Pryor, who really felt impressed by Harold’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>grief. “I dare say I could make it all right with your +employers.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, I must go; but I feel that I am going to +meet my fate, Mr. Pryor. If nothing comes of this, +try not to think me a fool; but last night, after I had +been asleep for about a couple of hours, I awoke +suddenly in a cold perspiration and shivering from +head to foot. I think you might have heard my heart +beating. I was in such a horrible fright, and there +was a dread on me—a terror; what was it? tell me;” +and the boy turned towards Mr. Pryor, who thought +in a moment about Maxwell’s words—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He will never make old bones;” and it was true, +poor Harold!</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You were ill,” answered the Englishman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was not ill,” returned Harold, petulantly; “I +was as well as you are. I had neither ache nor pain; +only I was frightened: what frightened me?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You had been dreaming disagreeably.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I had not been dreaming at all—at least if I +had I do not remember anything about it. I was wide +awake in the time you could clap hands, and thinking +about death, about Eversbeg, and my father, and that +Kathie I used to hear them talking over when I was +a child, Maxwell’s sister. I have not got over it all +day. Do you think me a coward? I am not a coward; +only—only it would be very hard to die and never +see Connemara again.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It would, Harold; but I hope and believe you +will see Connemara many times before you die. And +promise me you will go (quietly by yourself, you know, +and without alarming your mother) to some good doctor +in Dublin, and tell him you are not very strong, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>to give you a tonic. Promise me,” and Mr. Pryor +slipped a five-pound note into the boy’s hand, which +Harold looked at as well as tears would let him see it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In the night,” he began again, “I made good resolutions—I +did, Mr. Pryor. I wish I could keep to +them; I wish I could quit drinking; I wish I could +quit vexing my mother. I’d like to be good. I think +it must be nice to feel good when one wakes like that +in the middle of the night.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was the note on which Harold’s sentences +began and ended. It was the common chord of his +conversation, until at last Mr. Pryor became really +anxious.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He would not get on this way if he were in good +health,” thought the barrister, and when he parted +with Harold he felt many misgivings as to whether +he ought not to go so far as Galway, at any rate, +with him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there was an absurdity on the face of the thing +which could not fail to strike Mr. Pryor. “The boy +does not want to go to work,” he thought; “and if we +make too much of him he will never be good for anything.” +As for spirits, out of doors, Harold’s were at +fever-point!</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Put on your hat, man,” he said to Doyle, who, +happy as a lord, was standing flourishing an old white +apology for a hat in the middle of the High Street of +Duranmore. “I have often been drunk myself.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And good-bye, Kitty,” he called out to the barmaid +at the “Marsden Arms;” “see that you’re married against +I come back.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Good-bye, Maxwell,” he shouted to his cousin, +who was riding by on Trumpeter. “Take care of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>Madcap; I may come down some day in the hunting +season, and ask you to let me have one more ride +on her.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And good-bye, Mr. Pryor,” he said last of all; +“try not to think about what I told you—it was +folly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Write to me what the doctor says, Harold,” +entreated his friend. “All right,” was the reply and +the car drove off.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Far as he could see, Harold kept waving first his +hat and then his handkerchief, and it was not until +the vehicle turned round the base of the mountain, on +the road to Cragantlet, and bore the boy off through +the land of a hundred lakes, that Mr. Pryor could +prevail on himself to retrace his way towards Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could not sleep for thinking of the lad; he +resolved to write to Brian concerning him, and he +worried himself almost into a fever over the matter, +while Harold was shouting out snatches of songs, and +pitching compliments to the pretty country girls as +they tripped so daintily over the grass by the wayside, +and telling stories, and plaguing the driver’s life out +to let him take the reins, and eating his supper in +Galway, and lying fast asleep in one of those huge +beds at the Railway Hotel in which Finn Macoul and +his whole family might find ample accommodation.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you believe me, sir,” said Harold, who travelled +second class, to a fat priest, his fellow-passenger in the +railway carriage the next morning as far as Athlone, +“I had to ring the bell to find myself; I went wandering +over the bed every time I woke trying to discover +where on earth I was;” and the priest took kindly to +the boy, and laughed at his light-hearted merriment, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>and all the way up to Dublin, Harold found some one +to talk to, some one to laugh with.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As he drove along the streets leading from Broadstone +Station to Carlisle Bridge, he chatted to the car-driver, +and was, as the man expressed it, “in great +heart entirely.” “Pull up at the first shop,” ordered +Mr. Harold, “where they sell cigars; I want some;” +and obedient to the command the man pulled up at +a shop in College Green, where Harold alighted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He picked over the cigars with the air of a connoisseur, +and, selecting three dozen of what he considered +the best, threw down a pound-note in payment. +He had changed Mr. Pryor’s gift in Galway, and this +pound-note was part of the proceeds.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must send out for silver, sir,” said the man behind +the counter, who had never taken his eyes off +Harold’s face (when Harold was not looking at him) +for a moment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“All right,” remarked Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Sorry to keep you so long waiting,” remarked the +shopkeeper, politely handing his customer a chair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is of no consequence;” but Harold was kicking +his heels with impatience for all that.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Time went on. “I think,” said the lad, “they +must be quarrying that silver.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not at all,” said the shopkeeper; and at the +words his messenger re-entered the place, in company +with a policeman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is your prisoner,” remarked the cigar-dealer; +and the policeman laid his hand on Harold’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come along, young gentleman,” he said. “The +less fuss you make, the better.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>Advice which Harold followed by striking the +policeman right between the eyes, and then asking +what the devil he meant by his cursed impudence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is your cursed impudence, I think,” said the +shopkeeper, “coming here to change another of your +notes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I never set foot in your doors before, to my knowledge,” +answered Harold, amazed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, you have to mine, which is more to the +purpose,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you tell me what you all mean? Are you +all mad?” asked Harold, who began to feel that the +affair was getting serious.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then half a dozen people began talking at once, +and all Harold could make out as they dragged him +along the streets was—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Robbery of two thousand pounds—fifty pounds +reward—assaulting a constable in the discharge of his +duty—passing the stopped notes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But now look here, sir,” remarked Harold, to the +inspector. “I know no more what you are all talking +about than a baby in arms. That is my name and address; +and I have just come up from Galway, where I +have been staying at Durrow Park with Mr. Geoffry +Pryor.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are not bound to criminate yourself,” interposed +the inspector. “What you say after this caution +will be used in evidence against you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let it. I am trying to vindicate myself—though, +upon my conscience, I have not the remotest idea of +the nature of the crime with which you charge me. I +tell you what it is,” he added, “you have got the +wrong bird in crib; you must have mistaken me for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>somebody else; before God, I know nothing of any +two thousand pounds!” he added passionately. “I never +saw so much money together in all my life—I never +did!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you can persuade his worship of that, it will +be all the better for you,” was the incredulous reply; +and forthwith Harold was locked up, but not before he +sent this message to his mother:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Tell her,” he said to a policeman, “that I am in +the station-house; I have not the remotest idea why. I +have done nothing. I cannot think what you have +brought me here for—unless you are all mad.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But though the police delivered this message with +tolerable accuracy, they persisted in hunting over all +his little possessions, trying to find some trace of the +missing money—of something to criminate the boy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You see he is innocent, you see,” Mrs. Drewitt +kept saying, in her frantic sorrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, ma’am, we see,” answered the police; and all +through that long, long night Geraldine and her +mother kept repeating, as if to reassure their own faith, +“He is innocent! Harold could never have done a +thing like that!”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX.<br> <span class='c006'>An Unfortunate Likeness.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Next day Harold Drewitt was brought before Mr. +Boice, charged with having on the first of August, in +the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and fifty-four, +stolen two thousand pounds, the property of the Dundalk +and Drogheda Banking Company; when the following +evidence was produced:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>Jeremiah Kearns having been sworn, deposed, that +on the day in question he was an up passenger by the +five o’clock express train from Dundalk to Drogheda. +Had with him two thousand pounds in notes, and one +thousand pounds in gold and silver. The gold and +silver was packed in a wooden box hooped with iron; +the notes he carried in a black bag. Asked the guard +not to put any one in the carriage with him, and his +request was complied with, until the train arrived at +Dunleer, about eight miles from Drogheda. At that +station the guard said he would be obliged to give +him a fellow-passenger, but it was only a young gentleman +going on to Dublin. Seeing the prisoner, made +no objection, and they travelled on together to Drogheda, +where the witness got out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When he reached the Bank, he found he had lost +his bag; spoke to the car-driver about it, but the car-driver +was positive no bag had been among the luggage, +nothing but a portmanteau and the box. Telegraphed +at once to Dublin to search the carriages on the arrival +<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>of the train in Amiens-street. Telegraphed also +that the guard would recollect witness’s fellow-passenger.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Telegraphed, and sent messages to all their branches, +stopping payment of the notes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Several of the notes had been changed by Dublin +shopkeepers during the period which had elapsed between +the first and the fifteenth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had received a telegram from the inspector on the +previous evening, and identified the prisoner at the +police-station. He was dressed differently on the day +in question, and his hair was now a little longer, but +he had no hesitation in swearing to him as the youth +who had got in at Dunleer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Prisoner assisted him to lift the box out at Drogheda, +and made a remark to the effect that it must have +something of value inside. Witness did not suspect +such a respectable-looking lad, travelling first class, and +belonging apparently to the upper ranks, of stealing +his bag. He thought he, witness, had forgotten the +bag, and that if any other passengers got in between +Drogheda and Dublin, prisoner would be able to give +information concerning them. Had heard the description +given by several Dublin tradesmen of the person +who had changed the notes, and identified that description +as answering to his fellow-passenger and the prisoner +at the bar.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had no hesitation in declaring the two to be one +and the same person. Was confident he never mentioned +that he was carrying money with him; but thought the +guard made some joke about there being no fear of +that young gentleman robbing him. Was in the habit +<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>of taking money from one bank to another; the guard +knew him perfectly well.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Peter Monaghan being sworn, stated, that on the +night in question he was acting as guard on the up +express train, which arrived at Dundalk at five minutes +to five o’clock. Recollected Mr. Kearns getting in at that +station, and requesting him, witness, to keep the compartment +he occupied empty if possible. Knew Mr. +Kearns well. At Dunleer there were an unusual number +of passengers waiting for the up train, and consequently +asked Mr. Kearns’ permission to put prisoner in the +same compartment. He was such a genteel-looking +young gentleman that he thought there could be no +objection. Believed he did make some remark to that +effect, but could not be just certain. At Drogheda +Mr. Kearns got out, and bade witness good-evening. +When witness collected the tickets prisoner was in the +train. When the express reached Dublin the station-master +told witness about the telegraphic message, and +they both asked the prisoner if Mr. Kearns had left a +bag in the carriage. Prisoner said, not to his knowledge—that +he had not noticed any article at all +when the gentleman got out at Drogheda. Had he +done so, he would have mentioned it to him, witness, +at Balbriggan. Several passengers got into the same +compartment at Balbriggan, and one lady who got in +at Drogheda travelled on to Malahide, where every +one in that particular carriage got out except the +prisoner. About a mile on the Dublin side of Malahide +a black bag was found next morning by a labourer +working on the line. It must have been thrown out +of the right-hand window of the carriage, as it lay +between the metals on the down line. He thought +<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>from the young gentleman’s manner that Mr. Kearns +must have taken the bag out of the train, and lost it +between the station and the Bank. Never suspected +the prisoner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had identified him at the station-house the previous +evening, but should not have known him in the “wide-awake” +he wore. He had on a hat at Dunleer. A hat +was sent for and tried on. He was able to swear to +him then, though he had fallen away in flesh during +the fortnight.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Michael Brinny, tobacconist, was then sworn and +examined. Had a shop in College Green. Recollected +the first of August. Just as his shutters were being +put up on the evening of that day, prisoner came in, +and bought a pipe and some Cavendish tobacco. He +had not silver enough to pay for these articles, and +so he laid down a pound-note, out of which witness +returned him twelve and threepence change. Never +saw him before, and never saw him since, until the +previous afternoon, when he came to his shop again, +and purchased three dozen of cigars, offering a Bank +of Ireland one-pound note in payment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Witness made an excuse about having to send out +for change, and kept him in conversation till his assistant +fetched a policeman. Prisoner was very violent, +struck the policeman in the face, declared he did not +know what they were talking about, and gave a great +deal of trouble before he was removed to the station-house. +Knew him the moment he came into the shop, +though his hair had grown longer, and his face +thinner since he changed the first note. Thought he +tried to disguise his voice, and that he spoke with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>more of a West of Ireland accent than when he bought +the Cavendish.</p> + +<p class='c012'>John Garvan, Daniel Laharan, Thomas Molrhany, +and several other respectable shopkeepers identified the +prisoner as having made small purchases, and changed +notes at their establishments; while Barry Croggan, +who appeared with a great lump on his forehead, gave +an account of the assault committed on him by the +prisoner; and stated that, but for the assistance rendered +by Mr. Brinny and his shopman, he could not have +retained his prisoner until another policeman came to +help him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In answer to all these charges, Harold, having +been duly cautioned not to criminate himself, stated +that there must be some mistake; that he never was +at Drogheda in his life; that he knew nothing whatever +of the robbery, never having even heard of it till the +policeman told him about it the previous day. Very +earnestly Harold protested his innocence; he said he +had not gone out of Dublin the whole summer, except +for a week, the entire of which time he had spent +with Mr. Pryor, of Durrow Park. Being asked by the +magistrate if he could recollect where he was on the +first of August, he said he could not; but upon being +told what day of the week the first fell on, he declared +he had spent the whole of it in the company of Mr. +Francis Gyton, who could swear to the fact.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Being requested to send for Mr. Francis Gyton, he +said he did not know where that gentleman was; which +reply produced a malevolent chuckle from the “cloud +of witnesses,” and a statement from police constable +Croggan to the effect that prisoner was anything but +a respectable young gentleman, though he believed he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>had respectable friends. Many of Harold’s proceedings +were recounted for the magistrate’s edification; and +whilst every old sin, every mad prank, every boyish +folly was brought up in judgment against him, the lad +leaned forward and covered his face with his hands to +hide the tears of shame and mortification that he had +not strength enough to keep back.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had never been alone in any trouble before—never; +and now, in the hour of his bitterest trial, he +had not a soul to speak a word in his favour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you give me time, sir,” he said at last, looking +up and addressing the magistrate, “I will be able to +prove I never was near the place; that it is all a +mistake—” and then he gave a cry of joy, for Brian, +who he thought was far away from Dublin, entered +the court at the moment, and offered to find bail to +any amount for his reappearance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If he had not assaulted the officer, most probably +his brother’s application would have been listened to; +but as it was, the magistrate refused to entertain the +idea even for a moment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could not think of accepting bail in so serious +a case, he remarked, and remanded the prisoner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am innocent, Brian. I know nothing about the +money. Don’t let them take me back there!” panted +out the poor lad in his terror and distress; but Brian +could do nothing except go to a solicitor and place the +case in his hands, write to Mr. Pryor, and send a +telegram to London begging that Mr. Gyton would, if +possible, come back to Dublin without delay.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then he went home, and it was the hardest day’s +work Brian Drewitt ever performed, facing his mother +without Harold. Poor lady! poor mother! though she +<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>did not believe one word of the accusation they had +brought against her youngest born, still she wept till +she had no more tears left to shed at the thought of +her boy being in prison—of her darling being dragged +to the dock and tried like a common felon.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did all I could,” said Brian, hoarsely. “I +offered to get bail, but they refused it. I was not +there time enough to get a solicitor for him, but I have +found one since. I have written to Mr. Pryor and +telegraphed for Mr. Gyton. Is there anything else you +would like tried? Is there anywhere else you would +like me to go? Tell me. You have nothing to do +but say what you would wish, and I will endeavour to +accomplish it, mother.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>It would not be possible in a whole volume to +describe the intense tenderness—the womanly compassion +Brian managed to put into that one word; and +as he spoke it Mrs. Drewitt went up to him and, without +speaking a sentence, flung her arms round his neck +and kissed him over and over again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mother,” he said, “mother darling,” and he touched +her hair, which was growing grey, grey, and he kissed +her forehead, and he let her poor weary head lie on +his breast, but her plaint was still, “Harold, Harold, +my boy, my boy!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I could do no more, mother,” Brian repeated, +“and nobody can do anything more for a week yet. +Mr. Gyton will be over here by that time, and then +Harold is sure to be liberated at once.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Brian,” the dear fingers fidgeted with his neck-tie—with +the studs in his shirt, “Brian.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, mother.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>“Where did Harold get all the money he has lately +had to spend?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have given him some,” answered Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But not enough. I should fear not enough.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In a moment Brian saw where the sting lay; in an +instant he perceived that though she would not believe, +still that she dreaded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Make your mind easy,” he answered confidently. +“Wherever Harold had his money from, it was not got +dishonestly. There is some great mistake, but I could +stake my life he is as innocent as I am; whatever the +world may think, we must not turn against him—must +we?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She placed a hand on each shoulder, and looked +Brian full in the face.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are not saying that to comfort me?” she +asked. “You have no doubt yourself?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not the slightest.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You feel confident he was with Mr. Gyton?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know he was. At least, I remember your writing +to me on the evening of the first that Mr. Gyton had +passed that day through Dublin on his way to Durrow, +and that Harold had seen him off from the Broadstone +Station. Harold could not have been at Broadstone +and Drogheda on the same day; besides, he says he +never was at Drogheda in his life. And whatever his +faults may be, he is neither a thief nor a liar. Make +your mind easy. It is a case of mistaken identity; but +it is confoundedly hard lines for Harold to be locked +up instead of the fellow who really did steal the +notes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You think they were stolen then?” said Mrs. +Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>“They were certainly stolen, and by some one very +like Harold; but I have never seen anybody like Harold +in my life. It is a strange business, and we must wait +with patience for the mystery to be explained.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is not easy to have patience, Brian,” remarked +Mrs. Drewitt, and then she began crying again about +her boy—her poor delicate boy, while Brian thought +within himself that if the one-half he had heard during +the day concerning Harold’s mode of life were true, it +was no wonder he grew delicate, and pale, and thin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not home any night till well on in the small +hours, Mister Brian, as I am a living sinner,” remarked +Mary-of-all-work to him, “and dhrunk five nights out +of the six, and not at the office regular as he ought +be. I’m just telling <em>you</em>,” she finished, “for I wouldn’t +like that the misthress would hear anything of it. +Dear pity her poor sowl! She thinks the sun was +made to rise and set for him.” All of which was exceedingly +agreeable information for a young man to +hear who had his own way to make in the world, and +who had not found his path so far strewed at all with +roses.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Never mind,” he thought, as he flung himself +wearily on his bed, “it is all in the day’s work, we +shall find rest sometime.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Possibly, but the day occasionally proves very long, +and the rest is frequently delayed for an unreasonable +period. So Brian discovered, as the years went on, +bringing little repose with them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The Dublin papers were posted as regularly to +Kincorth as “The Times” to Durrow, and accordingly +Mr. Maxwell Drewitt had the pleasure of seeing his +cousin’s name figuring largely in a column headed,</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>“Robbery on the Dublin and Drogheda Railway. Arrest +of the Supposed Thief.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is the end of you, Master Harold, is it?” +remarked Maxwell, as he finished reading the report. +“I wish it had been Brian instead. Why, bless my +soul! he must have been caught the very day he returned +from Galway. I will go up to hear if he can +prove his alibi, though I dare swear it is a lie, and that +he was not with Gyton at all. He will very likely be +transported.” Having settled Harold’s affairs in which +summary fashion, Maxwell went about the house and +grounds in his usual manner, and slept soundly, not +knowing what the post was bringing to him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He got his missive while he sat at breakfast, and +opened it dreading no evil.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should like to see you at once,” he read. “Come +to Dublin immediately, if possible. It is important that +you should do so.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What can the fellow mean?” marvelled the owner +of Kincorth. “What on earth can he want?” Then +all in a moment he remembered the trial, and connected +the two things together.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My God!” he thought, “can he have been mixed +up in that? Have they mistaken the one for the +other?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He looked for the newspaper which he had put +aside in his desk, and spelled over every word of the +evidence. “Thinner—hair longer—more of a Connaught +accent—did not know him till he put on a +hat,” he repeated to himself, “and they have got that +other boy locked up for it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He put the paper away again, told his servant to +pack his portmanteau, and to order post-horses, “For +<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>I must catch the night mail from Galway to Dublin,” +he explained to the man, who did not seem to understand +things, while he invoked a hundred curses on the +head of his wife, who querulously remarked that he +was always going from home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And always likely to do till you are out of it,” +he answered, savagely. They had been living a more +wretched life than ever, lately, for Lady Emmeline had +unexpectedly turned restive, and refused to fall in +with her husband’s plans, as he had fondly hoped she +would.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Anything but that,” she said, firmly. “Anything +but another woman’s child;” and she relapsed into +hysterics whenever he ventured to approach the subject, +and adopting the mode of warfare most in favour with +her sex, of digging a moat round her citadel and filling +it with tears, rendered her position alike invulnerable +to threats and entreaties.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He might have known he had no chance of success +with her, and by holding his tongue have kept peace, +at any rate; but he preferred trying to compass his +end, and the result was a state of domestic warfare +which caused the servants to declare emphatically that +Kincorth was like hell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They never are but bickering and quarrelling, +and snapping at one another from morning till night,” +said Lady Emmeline’s maid to a select assemblage in +the servants’ hall. “It was only this morning I heard +master saying he could wait till she was dead; and +mistress answered she would live to spite him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was what marriage had done for Maxwell +Drewitt and for Lady Emmeline. He had paid his +price and got the article he coveted, and this was the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>result. No wonder he spent much of his time in Dublin; +no wonder his heart—for he had some human feelings, +some need for human affection—turned hopefully +towards his son, whom he meant to make a great +man of one day.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A great man! Alas! already his dream castle was +tottering to its foundation. It was to prop it up and +save it he hastened to Dublin, where the first person +he went to seek was a schoolmaster, grave and discreet, +who resided near that loveliest of all sea-bathing villages, +Bray.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You wanted to speak to me, Mr. Blosse,” began +Maxwell; he had travelled all night and looked haggard +and exhausted. “You wanted to speak to me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Mr. Drewitt, particularly,” was the reply. +“I think we might take a walk if you are not tired. +I should like to say what I have got to say out of +doors.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let us go then,” and Maxwell put on his hat.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You will have some breakfast?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not any; I am ready to go if you are.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you not take a glass of wine?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“At this hour? no, thank you, Mr. Blosse; let us +go,” and he moved nervously towards the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When they were once out into the open air, he +turned towards his companion inquiringly; but Mr. +Blosse said, “Not yet,” and they walked on—on to +the very top of Bray Head; where, unmindful of the +view, unmindful of everything in earth, or sea, or +heaven, Maxwell demanded what was the matter; what +Mr. Blosse had to say.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That trial, Mr. Drewitt—you know the trial I +mean?”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>“Yes,” Maxwell answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is not the accused some relative of yours?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My first cousin—go on.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I take it for granted there must be some extraordinary +likeness between him and Arthur,” continued +Mr. Blosse.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not know why you should take anything of +the kind for granted, Mr. Blosse,” said Maxwell, stiffly. +“I really do not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The youth who is in custody did not take that +money, Mr. Drewitt,” observed Mr. Blosse, “and Arthur +did; therefore I say some extraordinary likeness must +exist between them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had been expecting this all along. He had +hoped for nothing different from the moment he opened +his letters the previous morning. He had faced the +question as he drove past the desolate lakes, under the +shadow of the lonely hills. He had not concealed the +probability of such an announcement greeting him on +his arrival at Bray; and yet now, when the blow did +fall, Maxwell felt it in every nerve of his body—in +every vein of his heart.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He did not know till then what hopes he had built +on the chance of what this handsome illegitimate flesh +of his flesh and blood of his blood might turn out. +He had not realized what dreams he had cherished +about him; how he had been turning year after year +more and more to this one thing which belonged to +him, which he called his own on earth, till, standing +on Bray Head, with the blue sea washing a far different +strand from that whereon he was accustomed to +gaze below him, with the clear sky above him, he +heard Mr. Blosse speak words that might have been +<span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>read out of a death-warrant, judging by the effect they +produced.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For a long time Maxwell stood silent; for a long +time he remained staring down on the sea, while he +swallowed, drop by drop, the contents of that bitter +cup. Then when at last he could speak—when at +last his voice would answer to his will, he asked +Mr. Blosse to explain himself—to tell him all the +particulars.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Begin at the beginning,” said Maxwell, “and do +not stop till you get to the end.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He spent his holidays, as you know,” commenced +Mr. Blosse, “partly at Killarney, with you, and partly +with one of his schoolfellows, whose father has a property +near Carlow. He was to have returned here on +the first of August; but he never made his appearance +until the evening of the third, when he stated that he +had gone down with a friend to the North, and that +he had come back from Derry that day. I asked him +who his friend was? and he said an officer who was +going to be married to Grey’s sister. I knew Grey’s +sister was engaged to an officer, and so I never thought +of disbelieving his story at the time, though I have +since had reason to think he did not go to Derry at +all, but only to Carlingford, in company with some not +very desirable acquaintances.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go on,” interrupted Maxwell. “It is the last +part of the story I want to hear. What makes you +think Arthur——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is the culprit? I think so—because I found +the notes secreted in his bedroom. I noticed something +strange about him ever since his return, and +determined to watch his movements. I remarked that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>he was perpetually making excuses to leave the library; +that he was always going upstairs; that——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go on!” entreated Maxwell. “I do not want to +know what you noticed; I want to know what you found.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I found there was a short piece of board loose in +his room, and that these notes were under it—or, +rather, not under it, but pushed far away to one side +below the sound boards. I should never have guessed +it but for his own over-anxiety. He could not rest +away from the packet; he was always fancying somebody +had discovered it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell tried hard to keep his hands off the man +who had dogged and watched and trapped his son; +and who now sat and told him—not without a certain +subdued triumph—how his sagacity had been +rewarded—his trouble repaid. He dug his nails into +his flesh, and looked at his clenched fists, with the +dark look of his wicked youth gathering deeper and +deeper about his eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go on!” he repeated; and Mr. Blosse went on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I had heard of the robbery,” he said; “I had +listened to the story without any great interest, as one +does listen to such things, unless there is some circumstance +of special importance connected with them; +but when I saw the notes I taxed Arthur with the +theft, and he confessed all. How Mr. Kearns left the +bag behind him——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You can stop now,” Maxwell interrupted; “you +have told me all I care to hear. Now listen to me. +I know exactly all you would say, and I can guess +your questions without hearing one of them. First of +all, the money must be sent back to this precious +Drogheda Banking Company. Secondly, this boy—this +<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>Harold Drewitt—he must be cleared. He can +do that for himself, I know. Mr. Gyton did leave +Dublin for Galway on the first, and Harold was in his +company all the afternoon, at any rate. Thirdly, you +want Arthur out of your house, and you want no fuss, +because you think a fuss would damage you with the +parents of your other pupils. I will take Arthur away +with me; and last, but not least, you desire a pecuniary +acknowledgment from me—a suitable thank-offering +for the silence you have maintained, and will maintain, +on this subject. Is there anything which I have overlooked, +Mr. Blosse?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nothing. You are thoughtfulness itself,” was the +reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now, you can go back to your house and leave +me here for half an hour,” said Maxwell; “at the end +of that time I shall want to see Arthur.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But, Mr. Drewitt——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know my own business, sir, and shall transact +it after my own fashion,” interrupted the owner of +Kincorth, and he followed the retreating figure with +his eyes as it grew less and less in the distance—followed +it till it was mixed up among other figures, +and lost to view; then Maxwell himself descended +slowly to the shore, and walking along the beach, +which was bare and dry, the tide being out, he kicked +the pebbles before him just as he had done so many +years previously when he lounged home to Kincorth +by the edge of Duranmore Bay.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had been worsted, and a man like Maxwell +Drewitt does not bear such an indignity patiently. He +had longed to kick Mr. Blosse—to taunt him—to +dare him—to defy him; but he was afraid. Mr. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>Blosse could transport the boy. He had father and +son in his power, and he only refrained from using +that power because he thought it might injure his reputation +as an instructor of the sons of the “nobility +and gentry” if it were known a felon had come out of +such an unexceptionable establishment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He has the ball,” reflected Maxwell, “and can +make what terms he chooses, damn him!” and at this +point Mr. Drewitt lit a fresh cigar, and walked on more +slowly and leisurely than ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was thinking—thinking what to do with +Arthur. “I will take him to England,” he decided. +“I will put him under the care of some good clergyman, +if there is such a <em>rara avis</em> to be found. I will +try to reform him, for he is mine, and he is all I +have.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Oh! lonely and desolate, poor and unregarded. +There was something about the departure of that pair—of +that father and son, from under his roof which +touched even Mr. Blosse.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You may depend upon me, Mr. Drewitt, you may, +indeed,” were his parting words, and he spoke them +with a certain warmth of manner upon which Maxwell’s +reply fell like ice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not doubt it, Mr. Blosse, for you know it will +be to your interest to remain true to me,” and having +uttered this pleasant speech, Maxwell turned his back +on Mr. Blosse, and telling the car-driver to take them +leisurely to Kingston, he and Arthur left Bray behind +them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell did not breathe freely until they reached +Holyhead, and were speeding along through the darkness +to Chester. He had never reproached his son—never +<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>spoken to him, in fact, on the subject, and he +did not mean to do so till they were safe in London. +The notes were in his possession; but he could do nothing +with them for the present.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Harold was still a prisoner, and “he must remain +a prisoner unless Mr. Gyton can prove a satisfactory +alibi,” thought Maxwell. “After all, he is out of +harm’s way where he is, which is more than could be +said if he were at large.” And so far Maxwell was +right, for Harold had nothing to do the whole day long +except form good resolutions, and vow, and declare, +and swear he would turn over a new leaf when once +he got out of his present scrape.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had been up again before the magistrate, but +his solicitor had procured another remand. Mr. Gyton +was in the south of France with his father, but he +would return to England immediately. Mr. Pryor +pledged himself to that, and in order to make assurance +doubly sure, started off in search of his nephew. Brian +grew dreadfully anxious as day after day passed over +and still brought no tidings of Mr. Gyton’s movements. +He began to feel on how slight a thread Harold’s +chance of escape was hanging. If anything happened +to Frank Gyton—if he were killed in a railway accident—if +he caught a fever and died—if he could +not swear to the date—if, like Mrs. Drewitt, Geraldine, +and Harold’s employers, he had attached no definite +memory to the day, or the hour, or the date, why, +then Harold would be convicted; without doubt he +would be convicted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And he never could live out his sentence,” thought +Brian, in despair, “and it would kill my mother; her +<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>hair is getting quite white with this suspense, and that +certainly would kill her.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was making some observation of the kind to +the solicitor who had undertaken Harold’s defence, +when a telegram arrived from Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Am in London,” ran the message; “shall be in +Dublin to-morrow morning.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hope he will,” said the lawyer; “for your +brother, remember, is to be brought up again on +Thursday, and nothing can save him but a miracle or +an alibi.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Which speech sounded anything rather than consolatory, +under the circumstances.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER X.<br> <span class='c006'>Hearing is not believing.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Thursday arrived, and Harold Drewitt was again +brought up on remand before the magistrate.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had been taken into custody on the 15th of +August, and it was now the middle of September; and +as he came into court, two or three people remarked +that the air had not seemed to agree with him—that +he evidently wanted a change. “Which he is not +likely to get to-day,” observed one policeman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“His witness is here, though, I am told,” was the +reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t care if fifty witnesses were here, they +could not bring him out clear,” answered the other, +oracularly; and, indeed, this was the general feeling +in the court. Everybody thought Harold had made a +mistake in not pleading guilty, and begging for mercy, +as it was his first offence, and the temptation had been +great.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In one way the policeman was right. Mr. Gyton +could clear him in law, but Mr. Gyton could never +wash him white in the estimation of the public; and +poor Harold appeared to feel this, as he looked round +the court, and saw every eye fastened on him, not +compassionately, but curiously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He never seemed to have courage <a id='t132'></a>except when he +glanced at Brian, who had been faithful to him through +all—faithful, as he had promised his father, on his +death-bed, that he would be to Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>There was the magistrate, severe and incredulous; +there were some of the directors of the Dundalk and +Drogheda Banking Company, eager for revenge; there +was Mr. Jeremiah Kearns; there were all the witnesses, +mentally checking off the depositions as they were read +aloud, and thinking how impossible it was any man +living could prove an alibi in the face of such overwhelming +evidence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>One or two fresh witnesses had been procured by +the bank from impossible regions of the earth: the lady +who got into the carriage at Drogheda; the passengers +who had travelled from Balbriggan to Malahide;—all +were there to swear to Harold’s identity with the +thief.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The lady was the only person who hesitated about +the matter. She could not swear to the prisoner being +her fellow-passenger. “He was very like him; but—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But what, my dear madam?” suggested the solicitor +for the prosecution; and the court waited for her +reply, while the lady still hesitated.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Pray tell us in what respect the prisoner is unlike?” +suggested the magistrate, insinuatingly; for the +lady was pretty, and his worship had eyes in his head.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a profound silence in the court, while +the witness turned and looked again at Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very imploringly he lifted his eyes to hers, and +perhaps that settled the matter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I cannot swear to the prisoner being the young +gentleman with whom I travelled from Drogheda. He +is very like—but——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Pray proceed, we are all attention;” and the solicitor +for the prosecution struck an attitude while he +waited for the rest of the sentence.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>“The young gentleman I travelled with had a +slight suspicion of a moustache and beard coming,” said +the lady, desperately, “and——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>A roar of laughter, in which the magistrate himself +could not help joining, drowned the remainder of +her words.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You mean, I conclude, that the prisoner’s hirsute +appendages have not as yet made their appearance,” +suggested the magistrate.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He has likely been hungry where he was, and +ate them off,” remarked some one in the rear.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If I hear any more indecent interruptions,” said +his worship, “I will order the court to be cleared.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If ye’d have it cleaned,” observed the same voice; +whereupon the police made a dive into the crowd, and +seizing an old woman and a boy, hustled them outside +the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Meantime the solicitor for the prosecution was asking +the witness, “if she did not think it possible she +was mistaken—that she had been thinking of some +one else?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Upon which the lady got cross and said, “She was +not mistaken, and that she was not thinking of any +one else;” and as nothing more could be made of her, +she was ordered to stand down.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The solicitor for the defence, when it came to his +turn, said very little about the business—as little as +he could help. He remarked, that it was clearly a +case of mistaken identity, and observed that the prisoner +had been in Dublin at the very hour when the +robbery was said to have been committed. In support +of which he produced Mr. Francis Gyton, whose +<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>appearance made an impression both on the magistrate +and the court generally.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Francis Gyton being sworn, deposed, that he +was a son of Mr. Gyton, of the firm of Gyton, Lark, +Munday, Hatfield, & Co., Austinfriars, London.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He has got fathers enough,” remarked the former +speaker from among the crowd, and the police made a +fresh dive, and this time carried off in triumph a woman +who had an infant in her arms.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Gyton proceeded—Knew the prisoner Harold +Drewitt very well indeed; called at his mother’s house, +and subsequently at the office of his employers, on the +first of August last. Remembered the day, because he +left London on the evening of the thirty-first of July, +by the twenty-five minutes past eight express, and +crossed to Kingston by the night mail-packet. Was +only the one day in Dublin. Left the very evening of +his arrival for Galway. Slept in Galway at the Railway +Hotel, and proceeded the next day to Durrow +Park, near Duranmore, the residence of his uncle, Mr. +Henry Pryor. The prisoner dined with him and accompanied +him to the railway station.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Cross-examined.—Was certain he did not stop the +night at Chester. He had a glass of very bad sherry +there, and returned to the compartment he occupied +immediately. Was not left behind. Begged the solicitor +for the prosecution would recollect to whom he +was speaking. Had not the slightest idea whether it +was the Ulster, Munster, Leinster, or Connaught, he +came over in. If he, the solicitor, sent down to Kingston, +very probably he could find which of those steam-vessels +arrived at Kingston from Holyhead on the +morning of the first of August.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>Knew they had a good passage. Could not possibly +be mistaken as to Harold’s identity, Had been +acquainted with him too long for that. Was certain +he only remained in Dublin one day. Did he, the +lawyer, think he should forget his own name next? +Left Broadstone by the half-past seven train. There +was one gentleman in the compartment with him. Arrived +in Galway about twelve. Had some cold beef; +remembered it, because he had never seen such a joint +before, or since; and a glass of brandy and water. +Slept at the Railway Hotel. Could not recollect the +number of his room; but knew it had three windows +in it, and that all of them would open. Had never in +any other house in Ireland seen a window that would +open, or a door that would shut. Was not in love +with Ireland. The solicitor for the prosecution was +perfectly correct in that supposition; but came often to +Ireland to see his uncle. Had frequently been told it +was a fine country, but could not say of his own knowledge +that such was the fact.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Admitted that he liked English customs best. Did +not admire Irish peculiarities when they carried people +to the length of shooting landlords, and locking up an +innocent boy for a month, on suspicion of his having +stolen a black bag from a bank clerk. Would swear +fifty times, if the solicitor wished it, that the prisoner +could not have been at Drogheda, because he was at +Broadstone; and he, Mr. Gyton, supposed that even an +Irishman was unable to appear in two places at once. +Had kept none of his hotel bills; always tore up the +rubbish the moment he was outside the door; did not +consider that a proof of English extravagance, and +could not see, if it were, that it had anything to do +<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>with the matter in hand. Did not know whether the +prisoner led a respectable life or not, and was at a +loss to understand what his life signified to anybody +except Mr. Harold Drewitt, and Mr. Harold Drewitt’s +friends. Had come back from France solely for the +purpose of giving evidence in this case; would have +come from Jericho for that matter. Was quite certain +prisoner had dined with and accompanied him to the +Broadstone Station. Did not think it at all singular +that he could remember the name of a station while +he forgot the name of a boat. Most probably he had +never indeed heard the name of the steamer. Was +positive about the date. How much oftener was the +solicitor going to ask him that question?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Henry Pryor, sworn, stated that his nephew, the +last witness, arrived at his house on the second of +August, and told him he had parted with Harold +Drewitt at the Broadstone Terminus of the Midland +Great Western Railway on the preceding evening. +His nephew informed him (Mr. Pryor) that he had +asked Harold to come down to Connemara, and that +the boy would endeavour to get permission to do so. +Mr. Gyton was suddenly summoned back to London, +in consequence of the dangerous illness of his father, +with whom he subsequently proceeded abroad, and +consequently, when Harold Drewitt did arrive at +Durrow, Mr. Gyton had left that place. Was certain +his nephew arrived in Connemara on the second, and +that he said he had not slept in Dublin, but in Galway. +He had known Harold Drewitt for two years, and believed +him to be quite incapable of the crime laid to +his charge.</p> + +<p class='c012'>After which evidence, the solicitor for the defence +<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>intimated that he did not purpose calling any other +witness. It was, as he stated in the commencement, a +clear case of mistaken identity. From the first his +client had said he never travelled by the Belfast +Junction, or Dublin and Drogheda Railway, in his +life, and an alibi had now been unmistakably proved.</p> + +<p class='c012'>After a good deal of hesitation, his worship fell +into this view, and having remarked that Mr. Gyton’s +evidence was irreconcilable with the assumption of the +prisoner’s guilt, and that it appeared to be a most +singular case of mistaken identity, he said that the +prisoner must be discharged.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was, however, something in the magistrate’s +manner which seemed to imply “not guilty, but don’t +do it again;” for he assured Harold he had had a very +narrow escape, advised him for the future to lead a +more regular life, and began a lecture which the prisoner +cut short by saying—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did not steal those notes, I know nothing about +them, who stole them, or whether they ever were +stolen. I never was at Drogheda in my life, nor at +Dundalk either. I never, to my recollection, entered +Mr. Brinny’s shop before the time I went in there for +those cigars, and if ever I chance to meet the person +who appears to be so like me, I will take the value +out of his bones for what he has made me suffer during +the past month.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>This indiscretion on the part of Harold was a perfect +godsend to the magistrate, who told him such +language was highly improper, remarked that he did +not seem duly grateful for his escape, and finally dismissed +him with a caution.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then the next case was called on, and Harold, to +<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>quote the newspaper reports, left the court with his +friends.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There is, perhaps, no way in which a person can +be acquitted which is so eminently unpleasant as for +an acquaintance to come forward and swear that on +such a day, and at such an hour, the accused was with +him in such a place.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of course it is better to get off in this way rather +than not at all; but an alibi always sounds too like a +pretext to be perfectly satisfactory to the public; while +the released prisoner (if he be innocent) invariably +leaves the court with the comfortable idea either that +a score of people have been in league against him, or +else that there is some blackguard walking about the +world wearing his face, assuming his gait, speaking +with his voice, who may be committing fifty crimes +that will, in due time, be fathered on him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Harold Drewitt was not, however, old enough to +comprehend all that a man would have felt, had a +man stood in the boy’s shoes. He knew he had got +off, and it was impossible that he should understand +he had escaped being committed for trial by the merest +shave of the wheel of accident. Had he been with +any of his ordinary companions during the afternoon +in question, there can be no doubt but that the magistrate +would have pooh-poohed the evidence in the prisoner’s +favour, while probably the witnesses for the +defence might have got so worried and tormented as +to narrowly escape being committed for perjury.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Gyton and Mr. Pryor were not, however, people +whose testimony could be treated with disrespect. They +might be mistaken. In his heart the magistrate thought +they were; but still he had no choice but to act on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>their evidence and allow Harold to leave the court +with his friends; while many people remarked—that +the young fellow had been born under a lucky planet, +and that if he had been a poor boy he would have +been transported.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He would, as sure as God made little apples,” +observed one man, indignantly elbowing his way out +of the crowd; “for it’s meself knows the dacent chap +that was hung on half the ividence they brought +against this one. If he didn’t stole that money I’d be +very glad to know who did.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was the general feeling throughout Dublin; +but Harold knew nothing about the general feeling, +and only remembering that he was free once more, returned +home on a car laughing and amusing himself +as usual.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He mimicked the magistrate; he mimicked the +witnesses; he mimicked the policeman, and went rollicking +about the house in the wildest spirits imaginable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was as thin as a whipping-post and as pale as +a corpse; but he insisted that he was not ill, that his +mother should make herself happy about him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am not ill,” he said; “not a bit ill; all I want +is something to eat and to get out into the fresh air. +We shall have many a walk before the fine weather is +quite gone. There is a fortnight still left of September. +Am I to go back to the office or not?” he added, +looking towards Brian, who said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your place has been filled up.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Has it? A good job too. There was not one of +them came to speak a word for me, and none of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>fellows sent me a line or a message, though they must +have known I did not do it—mustn’t they, mother?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, Harold.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We will go down for a day to Bray, and take a +car on to the Dargle, shall we, mother? I should like +that. I’d like to see the purple bloom of the heather +if it’s not quite gone off, and I love the sea down +there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“May we go with you?” asked Mr. Pryor, and Mr. +Gyton at once followed suit, and voted that it would +be nice for them to make up several little parties and +go wherever Harold chose. There was an indescribable +tenderness in the manner of all towards the boy +who had been, as they knew, so hardly done by, and +who presently insisted on going as far as Sackville +Street, “Just to be sure I am free,” he laughed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As Brian had business to attend to, and Mr. Gyton +appeared a little loth to leave Geraldine, Mr. Pryor +offered to accompany Harold; and the pair accordingly +sallied forth and walked into Dublin, where the youth +at every turn met some one he knew, some one he +paused involuntarily to speak with.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But no one voluntarily spoke to him: a cold bow; +a nod; a how-d’ye-do; a reluctant shake hands. Harold +could not understand it, and at last appealed to Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Am I not innocent? It looks almost as though +they thought me guilty, does not it?” and he drew +closer to his companion, who told him—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not to trouble himself about it; that they would +learn better in time.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think,” remarked Harold, after another old acquaintance +had passed without taking the slightest +<span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>notice of his salutation, “I think it is nearly time for +us to go home;” and, accordingly, they turned and +went back over Carlisle Bridge, and along Westmoreland +Street, and past College Green, and down Nassau +Street, and so on to the suburb where Mrs. Drewitt resided. +As they walked along Merrion Square a disreputable-looking +fellow came up and, accosting Harold, +shook him so heartily by the hand as to threaten dislocation +of his wrist.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Glad to see you out,” he said; “thought at one +time you were in Queer Street for life: when will you +be round our way?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t know,” answered Harold, nervously feeling +Mr. Pryor touch his arm warningly. “I am not +very well—that is, I have friends—that is, I am +going out of town.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, it’s about the best thing you can do till the +talk has blown over. It is a wicked world, and living’s +hard work. Good-bye.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who is that man, Harold?” Mr. Pryor asked a +little sternly, and his tone at once put Harold’s bristles +up.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He was a very respectable person—very indeed; +but had been unfortunate in business. His name was +Grinnell, and he lived some place up near Mountjoy +Square.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Does he really? I should have thought some +of those nice respectable streets in the neighbourhood +of St. Patrick’s would have been much more in his +way.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of which speech Harold refused to take any +notice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hope,” continued Mr. Pryor, “that you do not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span>intend keeping up your acquaintance with him; you +are but just starting in life; you have been extricated +with considerable difficulty from a most awkward +position, And it behoves you, therefore, to be doubly +careful for the future in choosing your associates.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Still Harold made no answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish you would promise not to have anything +more to do with people of that description: you will +ruin your own prospects, and break your mother’s +heart.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hang it!” interrupted Harold, “one must speak +to somebody, and he is the only fellow who has said +a civil word to me since I came out. You must see +for yourself that the ‘genteels’ have cut me; don’t you +now?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If they have, do you think you will mend matters +by taking up with all the riff-raff who come and +shake hands with you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You need not call them names if they are not +gentlemen,” suggested Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think I, or any one else who styled the person +from whom we have just parted an honest man would +be calling him very much out of his name.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I suppose I am not good enough for you, then?” +said Harold pausing.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nonsense, boy. I want to save you from the +consequences of your own want of firmness. You +believe in everybody who says a kind word to you, +and the result is you have made intimates and associates +of people with whom you ought never to have +exchanged a word. Do you not remember what the +police stated about the character of your companions—swindlers, +betting-men, drunkards, profligates, of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>every description? If your mother had only heard the +one-half we have heard about you, Harold, she would +be more anxious about you than she is.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wonder you are not ashamed to be seen out +walking with me,” said the boy. “I am sure I am +not fit company for a rich swell like you. Had not +you better take the other side of the street?” added +Harold, who was by this time worked up to a pitch of +passionate fury. “We may meet somebody else who +will come between the wind and your nobility. Go +on; I will follow, if you like; it cannot be pleasant for +you to feel that you are out walking with—with—a +blackguard and a thief!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t be an idiot, Harold;” and Mr. Pryor laid a +hand on the boy’s shoulder, and led him, or, rather, +pushed him, on towards home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’m not an idiot,” said Harold. “I know you all +think I am, and that I do not understand anything—that +I am a fool; but I am as wise as Brian, though I +may not be such an old-fashioned sneak; and I will +speak to whom I like, and go with whom I like, and +visit whom I like, without consulting anybody.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are resolved to be independent, at any rate,” +observed Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, I am. I mean to stick by the friends who +stick by me——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Would you think me impertinent if I ventured to +remind you, I and my nephew have tried to be your +friends?” said the barrister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know you have; I know why, too; because +Maxwell told me something long ago. It is not because +you like me, it isn’t. Nobody likes me; and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>now you are going to set my mother against me, and +tell her every little thing I have ever done.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Having completed which dreadful picture, Harold +stopped again in the very middle of the pavement, and +seemed disposed to have a good cry on the spot.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a car passing at the moment, which Mr. +Pryor hailed. “You are tired, Harold,” he said; “you +have tried your strength too much. Jump up, and let +us drive home.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>When they reached home, Harold went off to bed; +but whether because he was sick, or whether he was +sulky, Mr. Pryor could not decide.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Next day, however, he saw clearly that the young +gentleman’s temper was greatly damaged; for he insisted, +against the advice of every one of his family, +on going to his late employers, and asking why they +had filled up his berth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish you would not do anything so foolish,” +Brian remarked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am not a child,” was the reply; “and I mean +to see to my own business for myself. I won’t be kept +in the dark by anybody.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And accordingly he went.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was the best thing that could have happened to +a youth of Harold’s peculiar disposition, to be able to +hear for himself what the world said of him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had been so pampered and spoiled at home, +that he was never likely to learn the truth there. +Strangers, however, did not stand on so much ceremony, +and when Harold grew impudent, gave him quite as +good as he brought.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know you have got off,” said one of his late +employers; “and I know how you have got off, also—by +<span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>an alibi; for which I would not give that!” and he +threw a scrap of waste paper on the floor. “Of course, +I am sure Mr. Gyton would not have said what he did +unless he fully believed it to be the truth; but he was +mistaken, that is all; and a very lucky mistake it +turned out for you. I really wonder at your assurance +in coming here at all. As for taking you back, I +am only too glad to be rid of you; there is not another +house in Dublin who would have kept so idle, +useless, and disreputable a young vagabond for a +week.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Harold walked out of the inner office, and as he +passed through the outer looked defiantly at the clerks +he had once been intimate with: one or two nodded; +but none came forward to shake hands—to say they +were pleased at his escape.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He felt tired, but he had no heart to go home; he +had taken his own way, and his own way not having +proved a pleasant one, he did not like to go back and +confess to such a disappointment: accordingly he went +on—on along the North Wall, where his respectable +friend of the preceding evening dropped upon him, +and proposed that they should go out for a drive together: +“Round by the strawberry-beds, and on as far as +Lucan.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Harold jumped at the idea. “And we can have +some dinner together, and then spend the evening at +Birdley’s; there are to be a lot of fellows there. What +do you say? will ‘the old folks at home,’ be singing +all the evening, ‘Willie, we have missed you?’”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No,” answered Harold; “I’m your man.” And +while Mrs. Drewitt was marvelling what in the world +could have become of her boy, he was rattling through +<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>the Dublin streets, talking and laughing and joking, +as though he had never been in any trouble, as though +he had never been a prisoner in his life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Before evening came he was pretty well exhausted, +but still his companion insisted on taking him to Birdley’s, +where he was greeted by the assembled guests +with great enthusiasm; his health being drunk with all +the honours.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now tell us how you did it?” exclaimed one. +“How many of the flimsies did you manage to get off?” +asked another.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I suppose you have made a bonfire of the rest: +it would be no go trying to pass them now,” said a +third.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You must have made a tidy haul of it though, +altogether,” observed one unwholesome-looking young +man.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And how did you contrive to hoodwink those respectable +friends of yours, for I suppose they would +have been above sharing the swag.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Tell us all about it?” repeated the first speaker. +“Silence now, gentlemen, if you please. Mr. Harold +Drewitt rises to address the meeting.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I want to know something,” cried Harold, who +was indeed on his legs. “Do you really think I stole +those notes?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Draw it mild,” suggested the young man above +referred to; who looked very much as though he had +been buried and dug up again. “Stole is such a confoundedly +ugly way of putting it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you believe then I ever was at Drogheda? Do +you think I ever saw that money? Do you imagine +that all I said was lies?”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>“Well, very few people looked upon it as the +truth,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You consider me a thief, then, in plain words?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! no, nothing of the kind; you merely annexed +the contents of that carpet-bag——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did not—I did not,” Harold vehemently interrupted. +“I know no more who took that money than +you do.” (Here the auditors winked at one another.) +“If I never should speak another word, I am as innocent +in this matter as any man among you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, then, who the devil is guilty?” asked the +chairman; “for no person in his senses can suppose all +those witnesses were in collusion against you. It must +have been you or your twin brother, if you have one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you look closely at his face, it must strike you +as too old, too second-hand, if I may use the expression, +to have served only one body,” said Mr. Grinnell. +“Rely upon it there’s another trunk somewhere that +borrows that face and goes out with it at nights while +this good child is sleeping it its bed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Gentlemen,” began Harold.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We are all attention.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish you would believe me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Lord help the boy, we are so simple we could be +made believe anything,” said his neighbour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I never saw that money. I never changed one of +those notes. Everybody is against me, though I am +innocent—innocent;” and Harold’s voice began to +shake a little and his lips to tremble.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Really this is becoming affecting,” remarked the +corpse-like young gentleman, addressing Mr. Grinnell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Allow me to perform a parent’s part,” said the +chairman, offering Harold a handkerchief.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>But Harold’s temper was now up: he pitched the +handkerchief back at the speaker; he threw off his +coat, and declaring he would fight the matter out, +dared any one to say he was a liar, and requested the +company generally to “come on!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now, now,” said Mr. Grinnell; “now, now,” and +he walked round the table, and picked up Harold’s +coat, and begged him to put it on, and to sit down +and take things peaceably.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How can I take things peaceably when you are +all against me—all?” asked Harold, looking first at +one of his tormentors and then at another. “Are you +cowards, that none of you will come on, when I ask +you? Will you not even let me fight for my good +name? will you not——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Catch him, some of you,” cried the chairman, +and involuntarily every man sprang to his feet, and +stretched out his arms towards the boy, who, stopping +suddenly in his sentence, reeled back a few paces, and +then fell into the chair he had pushed away from him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Send for a doctor,” said one.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Give him some punch.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He’s had too much already.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, he hasn’t,” said Grinnell, “he has scarcely +tasted a drop.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Get him some water.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Stand back, stand back,” entreated Grinnell, “and +open the windows, some of you; it is not a common +faint though, he’s quite gone,” and he wiped the perspiration +from Harold’s face, and put the hair back off +his forehead, and took the clammy hands in his and +chafed them gently.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will take him home,” he said, when Harold recovered +<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>a little. “Tell the waiter to call a car. Birdley +will lend me something warm to wrap round him. Are +you able to walk now, do you think?” he continued, +addressing Harold, “or shall I carry you? That is +right; take hold of my arm; don’t be afraid of leaning. +Now come with me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Good-night, gentlemen,” Harold said, turning +round and addressing the group that were looking after +him. “Likely I shall never see any of you again; but, +whether you believe it or not, I am innocent of what +you think.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He looks to me,” remarked the chairman after he +had left the room, “as though he were going precious +fast to that place where it’s best known what he is. It +is a pity, too, for he is a plucky lad;” and there ensued +a great silence, during which every man present was +employed wondering whether it were indeed within the +bounds of possibility that Harold had been mistaken +for some one else, who might be thinking at that very +moment how deucedly lucky it was for him that he +had escaped scot free.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XI.<br> <span class='c006'>Called Home.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The September wind blew cold and keen as Mr. +Grinnell and Harold drove along the quays to Carlisle +Bridge, and the man that had so strongly excited Mr. +Pryor’s disapproval drew the borrowed rug closer round +the boy, who shivered and trembled as the blast swept by.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was better when they entered the south side; +there they were sheltered from the cutting wind, and +Harold grew quieter and calmer as the car bore him +nearer and nearer home. He asked Mr. Grinnell not +to drive up to the door, but to set him down at the +end of the street where his mother resided; and then +they had a quarrel as to which should pay the man, +that resulted in Harold, as usual, having it all his +own way.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On one point, however, Mr. Grinnell was firm—he +would not let the sick lad walk up the street alone, +neither would he allow him to throw aside Birdley’s +rug. “I will take it back with me,” he said. “I am +resolved to see you safe and sound to your own door.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Which he did, and then bidding Harold a cheery +“good-night,” left Harold as Brian admitted him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who was that came with you?” the elder brother +asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A friend of mine, a man who brought me home. +I have been ill, Brian—I have indeed,” and Harold +dropped into a chair and put out his white thin hand +deprecatingly towards his brother.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>“I am going to be good,” he said. “I am. If you +all will only do what I ask you, I will never get drunk +again. I will try to be a credit to everybody belonging +to me yet. It is not too late, I think, is it?” and +with a gesture which was unspeakably touching, he +put Brian’s hand on the table, and laid his cheek +upon it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian had persuaded his mother and Geraldine to +go to bed. The servant, however, was still up, and +now stood in the doorway. She came to ask if anything +more were needed; but seeing Harold’s head bent +down and his brother leaning over him, she remained +silent.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian saw her and whispered the one word “Doctor.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In a moment, Mary was running down the street, +and late though the hour was, returned in five minutes +with a surgeon.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My brother is not very well,” said Brian, after +the first greetings were over. “Can you suggest any +little thing that will set him to rights?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I would rather not see a doctor. I do not want +any medicine,” remarked Harold, lifting his head, and +looking with his great dark eyes straight in the face +of the surgeon who was feeling his pulse, and counting +its beats with the greatest apparent indifference. “I +am quite well,” he went on, pettishly, trying to wrench +away his wrist; and then he dropped his face again +on Brian’s hand, and his brother knew it was to hide +the hot tears, that were falling thick and fast as rain.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hysterical,” said the doctor, calmly; and Harold +gave Brian a push, as a hint that he should contradict +the medical statement.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>“His strength has been greatly tried lately, as most +probably you know,” answered the elder brother; and +his low, full voice had a great virtue of quietness in +it. “He has suffered much, both mentally and bodily; +but we hope rest and change may do wonders for him. +Don’t we, Harold?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The boy made no reply, but he pressed his lips on +Brian’s hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is this the young gentleman, then, who was +charged with a crime that some one else committed?” +asked the surgeon; and for those words Harold turned +round and thanked him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nobody would believe me, sir,” he said. “Nobody, +that is, out of my own home. But I did not do it. +I did not, indeed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That I am sure you did not!” answered the +surgeon, heartily; and immediately he and Harold +became good friends; and the boy, pushing back the +mass of black hair that had fallen forward over his +face, answered all the doctor’s questions, and told all +his symptoms, so far as he knew them himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is the nights I dread,” he finished. “If you +could only give me something to prevent my being so +frightened. It is horrible to be all alone in the dark, +like that;” and he clutched Brian’s hand, and held it +fast while he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why did you never tell any one of these attacks +before?” asked Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I told Mr. Pryor. The first of them I ever had +at night was the time I was staying at Durrow; and +he tipped me a five-pound note, and made me promise +him to go to some of the great guns here, and ask +them about it; and I meant to go, only, you know, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>they took me up the very day I came back—they +did.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Poor lad!” said the surgeon, compassionately.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was a poor lad, I think,” answered Harold. +“There’s nobody ever can know what it was—to be +like what I have been to-night, in that horrid place. +Another week of it would have killed me; I am sure +it would.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, we must try to set you up again now,” +observed the surgeon, cheerfully. “If your servant +can come with me,” he added, addressing Brian, “I +will send back some medicine with her, and see your +brother early to-morrow morning;” and he stretched +out his hand, which the two youths shook gratefully +and departed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You won’t leave me to-night, Brian, will you?” +pleaded Harold; and Brian was just saying that he +would not, when Mrs. Drewitt, who had got up and +dressed herself at the sound of a strange voice, came +down-stairs, asking what was the matter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did not feel up to the mark,” Harold answered; +“and that obstinate Brian must needs go disturb the +whole neighbourhood by fetching a doctor to see me. +What a shame it is to have roused you up! but now +that you are here, I want to ask you a favour. I want +you and Brian to do something for me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is it, dear?” She was sitting on a chair, +drawn close up to his; her arms were about him, and +his head was resting on her breast.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I want to go away. I want you to leave Dublin, +and take me where I shall not be known—where +I shall not be called a thief and a liar at every turn.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who dares call you either the one or the other?” +<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>and Brian’s hand clenched, and his mouth was drawn +tight as he asked the question.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Harold laughed out.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Who killed Kildare? who dared Kildare to kill?—</div> + <div class='line in2'>I killed Kildare, and dare kill whom I will,”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c014'>he repeated. “He would go out and fight for me, I +do believe,” he said, turning to his mother; “but he +would have to fight all Dublin if he took up that +quarrel. I have found out to-day,” Harold went on, +as he kept curling and uncurling the broad strings of +the widow’s cap that fitted so closely to Mrs. Drewitt’s +face, “that there is no place like home, after all, and +that there are no people like our own people, when +they are true to us.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come up to bed, Harold,” interposed Brian, who +dreaded another fit of weeping. “Come along;” and +he lifted his brother off his chair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Wait a moment,” entreated Harold, standing with +his arm round Brian’s neck, and Brian’s arm supporting +him. “Wait a moment; will you do what I say? +Will you leave Dublin?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Drewitt’s glance wandered for a moment round +the room. It was not large; it was not well furnished; +but it had been a shelter, and it had seemed like +home. For the instant it appeared hard to have to +turn out once more into the world; to be in middle +age a wanderer on the face of the earth; but the feeling +only lasted for a moment; then she said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will do whatever may be best for my children, +and the child that has most need of me I must consider +first.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The last few words were addressed to Brian, who +answered—</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span>“Harold has most need of you, mother. Do what he +asks. Leaving Ireland may be the making of him yet.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you wish to leave Ireland, Harold?” Mrs. +Drewitt inquired, and the boy nodded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should like to go to London,” he said; “I want +to be lost; I want to be able to be a good boy. I am +tired and sick of being bad and foolish.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then God forbid we should keep you in the way +of temptation!” exclaimed Brian: “but now come to +bed; if you are to travel to London you must make +haste and get strong.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! I shall be all right enough,” answered the +lad as he crawled up the staircase, with Brian’s arm +still encircling him, with his right hand still twined +round Brian’s neck.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And thus it came to pass that, instead of going +to the Dargle, or to the Seven Churches, or to the +meeting of the waters, or any of the lovely places to +which Mr. Gyton had planned little excursions, the +Drewitts set about packing up their effects forthwith +and removing to London.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You can do as you please about it, of course,” +said the surgeon to Brian; “but——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is his fancy,” the elder brother answered; +“and I would not baulk it for any consideration. And +do not tell my mother, Mr. Ross; she will find it out +for herself in time. I know what you mean. I have +been afraid of it from the first.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And there was another person who knew also; +upon whom the feeling that he was dying came slowly +but surely; who day by day clung to his mother with +a more despairing attachment, with a more passionate +love.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>After they removed to London he and she were +never separate. In the dull winter days he sat at the +windows of their lodgings, looking out on the constantly-changing +panorama that was passing below. +For the sake of her boy, Mrs. Drewitt had rented +apartments in a house that commanded the view of a +crowded thoroughfare; and it was Harold’s delight to +sit from noon to dusk, and from dusk to nightfall, +watching the people passing and repassing, the endless +conveyances, the lights, the bustle, the noise, the excitement.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Hand clasped in hand, mother and son spent the +days thus together. It was a fearful winter, that of +1854–5, but Harold lived through it. The spring of +1855 was late, and the season ungenial; but Harold +lived to smell the violets which Geraldine bought for +him, and to see the primrose-roots hawked in baskets +about the streets.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a lovely summer, and Harold lived to take +many a drive and many a walk through the great +Babylon. He loved the parks—he liked to go +where there were hundreds and hundreds of people, and +not a face he knew among them save one, his mother’s; +while she—it was impossible for her not to know +that to Harold’s life there could be but one sequel—an +early death: and when at last, in the September +following their arrival in London, the heart that had +once throbbed so high with youth and hope and +courage was cold and quiet, Mrs. Drewitt, alone with +her dead, fell on her knees and thanked God that her +boy—her frail, erring, unfortunate boy—belonged +at last solely to Him and her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She made no mourning for her child, she raised no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>cry of grievous lamentation, of unutterable woe, but +she lay through the night thinking of how he had +come home at last—home to the one sure shelter to +die in peace. The touch of his hand seemed never to +depart from her; she could not forget how day after +day he had pillowed his head on her bosom; she could +not shut her ears to the “mother—mother” that he +kept repeating towards the last if she left his side for +a moment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“God has been very good to me, Brian,” she said. +“He gave my boy back to me before he died, and I +am content.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>With some difficulty Brian at last found a resting-place +for Harold: not in one of the great cemeteries, +but in a quiet churchyard in one of the northern +suburbs, where the evening sun falls aslant over the +graves, where great trees throw a pleasant shade across +the grass, where the grey church-tower flings its shadow +over the tombs, where the bells ring out Sunday after +Sunday, where there is quiet without loneliness, rest +without desertion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There Brian laid his brother down to sleep, himself +the solitary mourner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor and Mr. Gyton were both out of town; +and in the vast city Brian Drewitt had no other +friend.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As he left the grave, his thoughts went back to +another funeral, at which he had been chief mourner +likewise: where, under the shadow of the mountains, +within sound of the sea, he had seen the mortal remains +of his father placed in the vault of the Drewitts.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He would have felt better satisfied had Harold slept +there likewise. He would have liked a train of mourners, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>and a procession such as had wound down the +avenue at Kincorth, and under the trees, and round +the bay, and over Duranmore Hill, and down into the +hollow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Each man has his special weakness, and this was +Brian’s. He had never felt so fully that they were +Drewitts of Kincorth no longer, as when he followed +his brother to the grave alone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>What did the words graven on his headstone, +“Harold Drewitt,” imply to the men and the women +who passed through that churchyard Sunday after +Sunday? Nothing. They only served to show that +there a stranger had laid him down to rest.</p> + +<p class='c012'>What guess could they make about how the nineteen +years of his young life had been spent? What +could they know of his story—his errors—his repentance—his +wrongs?</p> + +<p class='c012'>But as though it had been all contained in a single +page, Brian read the tale which was now finished over +again—over and over again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could see the boy riding round and round the +meadows; he could see the proud glances which both +father and mother directed towards their youngest born; +he could see the daring imp taking his leaps, bearing +his tosses, laughing advice to scorn, and mocking at +all grave counsels. He could see him walking about +with Maxwell; looking defiantly across the dinner-table, +at the Headlands, at his more prudent brother, and +then draining off his bumper out of mere bravado. He +thought of him that night at Regan’s: he saw him disappear +through the darkness on Madcap; he remembered +his life in Dublin, and the great trial which had, so far +as any human being could see, saved his soul, while it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>destroyed his life; and then—then there came the +days when Harold was tractable as a child—when +he clung to his mother—when he turned back home +to die.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The short story was finished—the tale told—the +book closed in this world for ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was with the life of Harold Drewitt “as it is with +a ship that passeth over the waves of the sea, which, +when it is gone by, the trace thereof cannot be found, +neither the pathway of the keel in the waves; or, as +when a bird hath flown through the air, there is no +token of the way to be found; or, as when an arrow is +shot at a mark, it parteth the air, which immediately +cometh together again.” He had “passed away like a +shadow, or as a post that hasteth by.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell Drewitt had been right. It was a young +body that Brian left, with an exceeding bitter and +sorrowful heart, to sleep in the grave until the Judgment-day.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XII.<br> <span class='c006'>Geraldine is Satisfied.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>In the lives of all men there come long pauses, +when the river of existence seems to flow on without a +ripple, when day succeeds to day without any event of +sufficient importance to be set down and chronicled occurring +in the even course of their experience.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Such a time was the year following Harold’s death +to Brian Drewitt. Though some changes had taken +place, they had come about so naturally that they +scarcely seemed changes to him. All perhaps he noticed +specially or cared for particularly was, that he +found it would take him a long time to grow rich, and +that during that time he was separated from revenge +and Maxwell and Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had he forgotten Kincorth, do you imagine? Had +trouble driven all thoughts of vengeance out of his +head? Had struggling with the world not tamed him, +experience not subdued him, time not softened him? +No, my reader. The object he had planned to work +for in Connemara he was working for still, and though +the end seemed no nearer of attainment, but further +off than ever, yet Brian Drewitt never withdrew his +eyes from it, but kept that distant goal in view by day +and night, in solitude and when he was mixing among +his fellows.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Long ago, I said a person had but to look in Brian +Drewitt’s face to know that he could wait through +<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>years. He was waiting through years now for the +end.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had been very fortunate in business; fortunate, +that is, considering his training and the age at which +he made his start in the world; but still Brian felt dissatisfied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is not easy to be content with pounds when you +have been calculating thousands; it is difficult to work +for small pay when you desire to make money <em>ad +libitum</em> for the purpose of wiping out old scores; and +thus, though Brian was in the receipt of a hundred +and fifty pounds a year, he worked like a galley-slave +to make himself of more value to his employers, who +were now not the Dublin firm in whose establishment +he had made his first start in life, but the great London +house of Gyton, Lark, Munday, Hatfield and Company, +Austinfriars.</p> + +<p class='c012'>After his brother’s death he felt that he would like +to be nearer his mother than could possibly be the case +if he retained his situation in Dublin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for asking Mrs. Drewitt and Geraldine to return +there, to return to a country which was now so full of +painful associations, he felt that such a request would +be both foolish and unreasonable, and when Mr. Frank +Gyton proposed to him that he should take his chance +of the “governor’s temper,” at a salary of one hundred +and fifty, which was an advance of fifty on the pay +of the Dublin firm, Brian close with the offer on the +spot, and three months afterwards walked into the city +office as corresponding and foreign clerk.</p> + +<p class='c012'>That Mr. Gyton had a temper; that Mr. Munday had +a worse; that the managing clerk had a worse temper +than all his principals’ tempers put together, Brian was +<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>not long of finding out; but he had sense enough to +find out at the same time that if he did his work no +one could find fault with him; that if he kept his time, +held his tongue, did what he was told and refrained +from idling, nobody would meddle with him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had he been gay and light-hearted, like other lads; +had he been given to merriment, or to merry-making; +had he been sociable and lively, like Harold, with a +jeer or a joke for every one, probably he would never +have made way in the good graces of Mr. Gyton; but +as matters stood that gentleman took to him in due +time amazingly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Gyton, in the City, was a different man from +Mr. Gyton at the West-end. At the west he did not +seem to have much voice in any matter on which his +son and wife chanced to entertain a decided opinion; +but in the City he was an individual of many prejudices, +with old-fashioned ideas; who gave himself all +the airs of a millionaire; who was a martinet in Austinfriars, +and who liked to see old heads set on young +shoulders.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In this respect Brian suited him to a nicety. Brian +might have been a thousand years of age.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A most discreet young man,” he remarked to Mr. +Munday; and Mr. Munday agreed that he was, but +ventured to observe that it was a pity he chanced to +be born on the wrong side of the channel.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“As for that, sir,” answered Mr. Gyton, drawing +himself up, and taking a pinch of snuff out of his box, +without offering any to Mr. Munday, “as for that, sir, +the Gytons have some Irish blood in their veins. My +grandfather married the niece of an Irish Earl, and my +father-in-law was Irish to the back-bone. Well trained, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>sir, and well bred, the Irish can run as well as the +best of us.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then I suppose it is quite true what I hear about +your son?” said Mr. Munday, a little maliciously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What about my son, sir?—what—what about +Frank?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is generally said that Mr. Drewitt has a very +charming sister——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And if he have a dozen sisters, Mr. Munday——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why, in that case, your son could have choice +enough.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Of course he could, and he can choose whom +he pleases, and he can marry whom he likes, without +consulting every idiot in London on the subject, I +suppose.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Certainly, Mr. Gyton, his own father not excepted, +we may conclude.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And then the partners had quite a quarrel; they +tried who could hit hardest, who could say the sharpest +things, and went on wrangling and snarling, until Mr. +Gyton, looking as red as a turkey-cock and as pompous +as a beadle, remarked, that he supposed his private +affairs might be regarded as separate from those of the +firm; and that he wished Mr. Munday would recollect +for the future that he had expressed such a wish; after +which observation, which was delivered in the tone of +a royal command, Mr. Gyton summoned Brian into his +private office, and began catechizing him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How long have you been with us, Drewitt?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Six months, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you like the business?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I like anything out of which money can be made,” +was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>“Anything honest, I suppose, you mean.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Anything honest and honourable,” agreed Brian. +“Anything that a gentleman may do, and still remain +one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Humph! You call yourself a gentleman, then, do +you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian flushed scarlet, but had sense enough to +make no reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There—there—don’t be annoyed. I only asked +for information. I wanted to know more of you. An +employer ought to understand clearly the position in +life of a person holding your responsible office. Let me +see—how did you happen to come here?—who recommended +you?—with whom were you last?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian told him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And wasn’t there something about your father +cutting you out?—what was all that?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Once again, Brian gave him the information he +wanted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And which of your family have you with you in +London?” was the next question.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My mother and only sister,” answered the young +man.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dependent upon you, of course?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, sir; my mother has her settlement, which is +quite enough for all her wants,” Brian said, stiffly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hah! so much the better. Now just begin and +tell me your story right through—don’t keep anything +back—be frank with me, and I will be fair with you. +I am not asking out of idle curiosity—I am not, upon +my honour.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thus exhorted, Brian told all—told everything, +even to Harold’s mishap; and during the course of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>recital, Mr. Gyton senior indulged himself in many +pinches of snuff—in many hems, and haws, and God +bless me’s, and upon my soul’s.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was early summer, and Mr. Gyton was arrayed +in those wonderfully light trousers for which most City +magnates seem to have some kind of mania; he had +on a white waistcoat, displayed an imposing amount +of shirt-collar, wore a lightblue silk cravat, and was +shaved as clean as it was in the art of man to shave +a human chin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He always carried an immense white silk pocket-handkerchief +and an equally enormous bandana.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The bandana was now spread out over his knee, +like a flag laid over a railing, and he contemplated +the way in which his boots were blacked; while with +his plump legs well apart, and his stomach swelling out +under his white waistcoat, and his heavy guard-chain +strolling about over his chest, he sat and listened to +Brian, interrupting him only with the remarks I have +mentioned.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hah! poor lady—very sad—very sad indeed: +has Mrs. Gyton been to see her yet—eh?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Gyton was always fancying his wife was in +league with his son, and he put the question fully expecting +to hear that Mrs. Gyton and Mrs. Drewitt were +bosom friends.</p> + +<p class='c012'>No such thing however.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My brother took that affair I mentioned so much +to heart,” answered Brian, “and his health was so bad +from the time we left Ireland, that he could not bear +the sight of a stranger at all, and since his death my +mother has never recovered her spirits sufficiently to +care for visiting.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>“Wonderful—bless me—extraordinary!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We are so differently situated now,” began Brian, +who really did not know what else to say; but Mr. +Gyton interrupted him with the remark that he should +have thought—but of course everybody knew their +own business best (the millionaire was apt at times to +be ungrammatical)—a little friendly visiting would +have done Mrs. Drewitt good. “It’s not well to sit +moping,” went on the great man; “brooding over +sorrow only makes it worse; and we none of us can +live alone—at least, that is my experience. I am +sure when I was so ill, this time two years—let me +see, is it two years? yes, it must be pretty nearly two +years—the doctors told me I must speak to no one, +see no one, and think of nothing, for at least three +months.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They considered your case so serious?” suggested +Brian, imagining some observation was expected from +him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Serious? yes, indeed, it was serious; but their +prescription would have killed me. I might as well +have been put in my coffin at once, and so I told them. +I went abroad, certainly, but what did I do there? I +amused myself as much as possible. I saw everything +there was to be seen. I drove about, I ate foreign +kickshaws, I talked French (Brian thought he would +have given something to hear the French to which +Dives had treated the Parisians), and what was the +consequence?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>His clerk faintly hoped that he had come back +better.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Better! why you see me now. I have been better +since than I ever was in my life; and that’s what your +<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>mother ought to have, change and variety, instead of +mouching in the house all day. Mrs. Gyton shall call +upon her; yes, that she shall;” and Mr. Gyton having +uttered the last words as if in answer to an internal +protest against any such erratic proceedings, took a +pinch of snuff, blew his nose violently and looked +straight at Brian, who said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hope, sir, you will not think me rude and ungrateful, +but——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But what—what is it you have got to say?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think my mother would rather—that is, we +are so completely removed from the circle we——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Bless my soul! what ails the boy? he cannot finish +a single sentence!” exclaimed Mr. Gyton, pettishly. +“That is a shocking habit for any one to get into. +Out with it!” he finished, working himself up to a +pitch of desperation; “out with whatever you have got +to say.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am quite certain,” said Brian, steadily—so +steadily that Mr. Gyton never guessed what the effort +cost him—“that you would rather our house and +your house were kept completely separate, when I tell +you Mr. Francis Gyton once thought my sister very +pretty; as she is,” added Brian. “All things considered, +my mother decided it was best he should not see so +much of her, nor she of him. I hope I am not doing +wrong in telling you this, sir. We know exactly where +we stand, and we do not wish to push ourselves into +any house under false pretences;” and Mr. Brian drew +himself up to his full height, and looked the very incarnation +of pride and determination.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you mean to say my son was ever fond of +your sister?” asked Mr. Gyton, facing slowly round.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>“I believe he was. I do not think my mother +would ever have said it was best for him not to see +Geraldine, had there not been something of the kind—and +something definite, too.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The young dog!” remarked the parent.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should be sorry to say anything calculated to +annoy you, or to prejudice you against Mr. Francis. +But the matter is all settled now; and you will understand, +from what I have said, why I think my mother +would rather Mrs. Gyton did not call.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Thank you. It is always best to speak out fairly +and frankly, is not it? Now there is something else I +want to talk to you about. You have done your best, +I think, since you came to us?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have tried to do my best,” answered Brian, who +was in horror lest he was going to be dismissed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes; and those who try generally succeed, don’t +they?” said Mrs. Gyton, whose face seemed to Brian +to get redder every moment, while his shirt-collar became +more imposing. “I have been thinking of sending +you abroad, very shortly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you mean to any of the colonies?” asked +Brian, hurriedly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, no—only to France; it is rather a delicate +piece of business, and I want it managed cleverly. +If you conducted it to our satisfaction, I have no +doubt we should be able to raise your salary next +year.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are very kind to me, sir,” Brian said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not at all, not at all. I know what I am about. +Take care of what you do, and you may make your +way in the world yet. Now you can go; that is all I +wanted.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>But still Brian hesitated.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I can have no objection to your repeating to Mr. +Francis what has passed between us to-day; but at the +same time, sir, I almost wish you would not mention +the matter to him. It is all settled now; and——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes—yes—yes—yes,” exclaimed Mr. Gyton, +impatiently waving his hand; “I understand perfectly; +be satisfied, I shall not make any mischief;” and Mr. +Gyton rose from his chair as a hint that the interview +must be considered ended, while Brian went back to +his desk wondering greatly whither all his principal’s +questions had tended.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Mr. Gyton, he took an early opportunity of +seeing Mr. Pryor and asking him what kind of girl +that sister of Drewitt’s might be; which question Mr. +Pryor answered by inquiring why his brother-in-law +wanted to know.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Curiosity,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nonsense,” exclaimed Mr. Pryor; “you have heard +some of that chatter of Munday’s about Frank being +fond of her, as Frank was, for that matter; but do not +let it influence you against Brian; for though Munday +does not like him, you will never get a more faithful +nor trustworthy clerk.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But I want to hear about this girl. Have you +seen her?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Have I seen her?” repeated Mr. Pryor, with a +nervous laugh. “Have I seen you? Did not I see +them every day in Connemara before they ever left +Kincorth? Did not I tell you I was in the house when +her father died, and that I heard the will read over +too? Seen her! I should think I had.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you think Frank really was fond of her?”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>“How is it possible for me to answer such a question? +He was at one time never out of the house, and +he proposed for her. There, now the cat is out of the +bag. But he had not courage to ask your consent, and +Mrs. Drewitt would not allow the affair to go on without +your knowledge. Frank asked me about it, and said +he feared there was no chance of your approval; in +which opinion, knowing there was no money nor prospect +of any money, I agreed with him.” Mr. Pryor +was never weary of having a fling at his brother-in-law’s +money-bags.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And so Frank gave her up?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t think he did; I think he is waiting for an +opportunity to speak to you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thereupon Mr. Gyton grew rampant: was he a +bear, was he a brute, was he a beast, that his own son +should be afraid to speak to him on such a subject? +“Hang it! sir,” he said, “was I rolling in money when +I married your sister?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No,” was the reply; “but then neither were you +dependent on your father for your support; and Frank +knows, as I know, that there are probably many young +ladies you would prefer to a girl without fortune, and +she an Irishwoman.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now I’ll tell you what it is, Geoffry,” and at this +point Mr. Gyton became almost purple in the face with +indignation, “I won’t have you or anybody settling +my affairs for me, and saying what I should like, +or what I should not. If you must know what I should +not like, it would be one of those Munday girls. I +wonder,” he went on, “that you, having just come into +such a handsome property, should not have offered to +make things square for Frank, and he your only near +<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>male relative. Not that I want the money; only I +wonder, when these Drewitts seem to be such <em>protégés</em> +of yours.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You need not wonder,” was the reply. “I may +marry yet, myself.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The deuce you may!” and Mr. Gyton surveyed +him with perplexed amazement. “Ho, ho! I am beginning +to see daylight, I think. Perhaps you are in +love with the girl yourself?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Perhaps I am;” and Geoffry Pryor, seeing that +his last chance of winning Geraldine was slipping +through his fingers, stood at bay. “Indeed,” he proceeded, +“there is no use in my making any pretence +about the matter. I did hope—I have hoped year +after year since I first knew her, that some day I +might be able to persuade her to become my wife. It +may seem to you a ridiculous rivalry,” added Mr. Pryor, +hastily; “but I think I should have been far the +honester lover of the two. Had I approved of Frank’s +conduct in the affair—had I thought it likely he +would make her happy—I love her so well, that—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You would have taken his part against me. I am +obliged to you, Geoffry.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“—That I would have done what I could to help +him and her, though I do not pretend to much Quixotism +either,” finished Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must see this young lady, who seems to have +turned all your heads,” remarked Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, then, listen to one word first. Frank has +treated her very badly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How dare you say such a thing of my son, sir?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I shall say what I please about my nephew,” retorted +Mr. Pryor, coolly. “And I repeat, Frank has +<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>treated her very badly. Now, do not you go and +treat her badly also. Make up your mind what your +intentions are in the matter, and see that Frank has +not changed his, and then do what you like; only +don’t let him keep beating about the bush as he has +been doing, ever since he first saw her.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What relative is she to that Lady Emmeline +woman who stayed with us one spring?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Lady Emmeline’s husband and Miss Drewitt are +first cousins,” Mr. Pryor replied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Was that the fellow who got the estate?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The same.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Any chance at all of our clerk having it back +again?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not the slightest.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you going over to Ireland this year?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not know. No, I think not. I have some +intention of selling Durrow, and buying a place in +England.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How long have you taken that idea into your head?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not very long;” and Mr. Pryor returned his +brother-in-law’s stare unflinchingly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t take it to heart,” said Mr. Gyton, with a +certain kindness and sympathy in his manner; “don’t, +there’s a good fellow.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you don’t take it to heart, I am sure I need +not,” answered the barrister, bitterly; “I thought the +very mention of such a <em>mésalliance</em> would have driven +you out of your mind. The longer I live the less I +see one need expect any person to act as it might have +been supposed he would.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then you are sorry I do not altogether disapprove +of the business.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>“Do you think I am made of iron, that I should +be glad?” was the reply; but Mr. Pryor never afterwards +repeated this remark; on the contrary, when his +sister told him how Frank’s wandering habits and unsettled +mode of life had been a source of grief and +anxiety to both her and his father, how anxious they +were for their only son to be “settled,” and how thankful +for her part she felt that he had chosen that “dear, +sweet, pretty Geraldine, who was so fond of him,” the +barrister resigned himself to the inevitable, and began +marvelling whether he could ever look on Geraldine as +his niece.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He did not much think his nephew would make +any woman very happy; but still, they were both +young, and both in love; and, who knew but that it +was best as it was?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Geoffry Pryor could not say it was not best, though +it ended his dream, though it crushed out of his heart +the hope he had been cherishing for years.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I thought you would have liked Frank to marry +either rank or fortune,” he remarked to his sister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“So we should, but Frank has never shown the +slightest predilection for either one or the other, and +really young men now-a-days do make such matches +that I am thankful he has chosen a lady by birth, and +one whom we need not be ashamed to present to any +person or in any place. There is young Munday—married +his sister’s maid! Mr. Lark has just had to +send his son abroad to keep him out of the way of +some most disreputable connexion. There is Lady +Ackington’s step-son run off with the governess—and +in short, my dear Geoffry—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“In short, my dear Maria, you think, with me, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>that Miss Drewitt will make almost too good a wife +for Frank.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think no such thing,” retorted Mrs. Gyton, indignantly; +“for a young lady in Miss Drewitt’s destitute +position to make such a capital match is remarkable; +and had Mr. Gyton not taken such a fancy to +her brother it never could have been brought about. +Of course we shall be glad to see Frank settled. He +has promised his father that he will really settle down +to business now, and take that position to which, as +the son of the head of the firm, he is entitled; and if +he does that I shall say meeting with Miss Drewitt +was the greatest blessing which could have befallen +him. But, at the same time, I must add, that had he +fancied Miss Ackington, or even one of the Miss Larks, +I should infinitely have preferred a connexion which +might have advanced his worldly interests as well as +insured his domestic happiness.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You really are getting eloquent, Maria.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is enough to make any one indignant to hear +the way you talk. A stranger would really go away +with the impression that Miss Drewitt had ten thousand +a year, and that she was conferring some honour on +Frank by accepting him, instead of being only too +glad to secure such a catch. Not but what,” continued +Mrs. Gyton, noticing an angry look in her brother’s +face; “not but what I will say, they behaved admirably +in the business, which proves that, though they +are poor, they have been educated in all the ideas of +the highest ranks.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What are the ideas of the highest ranks, Maria?” +inquired Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>“Not to take advantage—to act honourably—to +do as you would be done by, and so forth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Oh! indeed!” remarked her brother; “after that, +I think I may go home and propose to my housekeeper.” +But he did not go home, neither did he +propose to his housekeeper: he drove to the house in +Islington which Brian had taken for his mother after +Harold’s death, and found Geraldine alone in the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have come to wish you joy, dear,” he said; but +there was an unsteadiness in his voice as he spoke, +and the hand which held hers trembled a little. “I +hope you will be happy, and wealthy, and wise;” and +he tried to smile; which proved so futile an attempt, +that the tears came into Geraldine’s eyes as she looked +at him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was foolish once,” he went on, “and thought—Ah! +well, you know what I thought. But that is all +gone and past now, my child, and we will be good +friends for ever, won’t we?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She put her other hand on his shoulder and said, +“yes,” with a sob in her voice.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And if ever you are in any trouble or perplexity, +you will come to me as you would to—I am going +to be your uncle,” he added abruptly; “so what need +I say more?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will come,” she replied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And we will forget all the past. You will forget +I was ever silly enough to overlook the fact that +I was old enough to be your father; that the time +when I might have found favour in a young girl’s +eyes was in the summers before you were born.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>“Don’t,” she pleaded; “don’t; I can’t bear it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He put the hair back from her forehead, he held +her away from him at arms’ length, he looked at her +sweet sorrowful face—looked at it as he knew he +might never look in her face, or in the face of any +other woman again, and then he took her to him and +kissed her, as he had longed to do that day when they +stood together on the hill above Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is not there a nursery rhyme, Geraldine, which +declares that some go up, and some go down? I feel +that I have been among the latter class; and yet, if +you are happy, my dear, I will make myself happy +too. It was a mistake; that is all; and in this world +it has often seemed to me we pay as dearly for our +mistakes as we do for our sins. You may think it a +strange fancy, child. I am not going away from London; +at least, I am only going to Durrow for a month, +and I hope often to see you when I come back; constantly, +indeed, after a time: yet still, I want to say +good-bye; that was the chief word I came to speak to +you to-day.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She knew what he meant; knew that it was not +to her he was bidding farewell, but to the dream that +had been so sweet and so exceeding beautiful. She +knew that from thenceforth he wanted her to forget, as +he intended to forget—that from that day forward, +she was to seem to him his nephew’s affianced wife, +nothing more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nothing more. When he was standing on the cliffs +above Durrow it seemed to him that the sea kept repeating +that refrain eternally:</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nothing more—nothing—so long as the rain +fell, and the wind blew, nothing for ever!</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>But Geraldine was happy, and talked with her +mother of brighter days to come, when she should +have no anxiety about ways and means; no need to +pinch and save; no trouble, no sorrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And they will push Brian on, mamma, and he +will get, oh! so rich, and Frank wants him also to live +with us till he marries; so that you need have no hesitation +now about coming to us; and we will make you +so comfortable, mamma, and take every care from you, +and you shall be so happy—so happy!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Should she? After a talk like this Mrs. Drewitt +would go to her own room, and fall on her knees, and +pray that her son and daughter might somehow learn +the truth which she had not courage enough to tell +them—that the days were not very far off when she +should indeed have no more care, when she should be +very happy, but not in this world—ah! no, not here.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIII.<br> <span class='c006'>Country Gossip.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Mr. Pryor did not make a very long stay in Ireland. +He merely remained a sufficient length of time +to receive Mr. Connor’s numerous reports; to ride round +his property; to point out a few improvements he +wished made; to distribute much charity; to be blessed +with blessings that were beyond reason as they were +without stint; to drive out a few times; to renew his +acquaintance with the Durrow fishermen, and to hear +all the local news.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Considering that Mr. Connor had a whole year’s +budget to unfold, the amount of information was not +great, although it might be interesting. The gaugers +had been over several times, and the constabulary, too, +about the stills and the smugglers; “And one gauger +was not afraid to say,” went on Mr. Connor, “that if +you, sir, did your duty, there would soon not be a +still in Durrow; and about the smugglers, the coastguard +people declared I got share of the cargoes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We can both bear such remarks, I suppose, Mr. +Connor,” said Mr. Pryor, smiling.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They are wild about it, that is the thing, you +know, sir. Why, they do say that even Mr. Drewitt +has turned against the stills, and is hunting them off +his property there in the Joyce county. You would +not know Mr. Maxwell, sir, if you were to see him +now; he is all for law and order, and is making himself +<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>perfectly detested by everybody, high and low. +He is abroad now, sir; travelling on the Continent +with a Mr. Campnell from Oxford, who they do say is +going to be his heir, and who, many people think, is +something nearer even than that; and Lady Emmeline +has left him—did you never hear of it, sir? She has +left him and is gone to live with Mr. Vervensoe and +his wife up at Cragantlet. The famine made a poor +man of him, rich though he was once; and they are +glad enough to have Lady Emmeline with them for +the sake of what she pays. They do say the life he +led that misguided woman, sir, lately was shocking—shocking. +I could not tell you half the stories that +are in everybody’s mouth about his wickedness, and +his cruelty; and it all began, that is, the cruelty, because +she refused to have this young man come to the +house as her nephew, or come to the house while she +was in it, in fact, at all.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“One cannot wonder at her doing so,” remarked +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No; but I am told he did—that he said, as she +had no children, the least she could do was to let him +have one of his own in the house; and then she +threatened him—I could never rightly make out with +what; and then he struck her; and then she got worse, +and said she would leave him, and expose him; and +after that he begged her pardon, and talked to her for +more than an hour, and got somehow to the soft side +of her; so that she said, at last, if he would let her +go, and take what she brought with her, there might +be peace between them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That could only have come through the servants,” +remarked Mr. Pryor, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>“It came to me, most of it, from my brother-in-law; +but where he got it I cannot say.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And so Lady Emmeline is really gone?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir. I met her the other day out driving +with Mr. and Mrs. Vervensoe; and she looked ninety. +And, indeed, I was sorry to see her,” finished Mr. +Connor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wonder if Maxwell Drewitt was married before +he met with Lady Emmeline—secretly, I mean,” said +Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not a bit of it, sir; there never was a man less +in the marrying notion than that same Mr. Drewitt, if +all I have heard from Ryan about his young days is +true. And if you are thinking that he was married +first, and then married Lady Emmeline afterwards, +you may put that notion away altogether. He was +always far too wide-awake to get himself into any +mess of that kind. Have you been round by Kincorth, +sir? He is putting up the handsomest entrance +there is in this part of the country at all; and they do +tell me the house is like a palace, and that the gardens +are just a show. He has made a second avenue, +leading out on Calgillan Road; so that the drive now +goes right through the property. I heard say—but I +don’t know whether it was true or not—that some +young lady in England took a fancy to him, not knowing +he was married; and that when he came home, he +cursed and swore at Lady Emmeline for living too +long, and standing in his way.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think that story must be an invention,” answered +Mr. Pryor; “at least, I give my countrywomen +credit for more taste than that would imply they were +possessed of.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>“I don’t know,” said Mr. Connor; “I fancy there +is no way Mr. Drewitt cannot put on him when he +likes. I am sure he came over here one day wanting +gravel out of Durrow River, for his new avenue, and +you would have thought I was Prince Albert, at the +very least.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who is living at the Headlands, now?” asked Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A Captain Crabbe, his name is; and awful work +he and Mr. Drewitt have about the place not being +kept in good order; and about the cows getting among +the plantations. I don’t wonder, myself, at Mr. Drewitt’s +being vexed to see the grounds—you remember +how he used to have them; and now they are as bad +as Cragantlet. He says he will never let it to anybody +again, unless an Englishman; and not to him, unless +he signs an agreement to keep the place as it +ought to be kept. He goes on dreadfully, though, +when anything puts him out. When you are going +along the Calgillan Road you can hear him cursing +his men half a mile off.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you suppose is the cause of his ill-temper?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Goodness knows, sir! He never had much of a +temper, and now it is worse than ever. Ryan says, he +thinks it must be that the devil he has inside him +wears away his patience, and that he is glad to break +out on anybody. There is one thing sure, he has been +worse since Mr. Harold died. My brother-in-law told +me he shut himself up for a whole day when the news +came over, and that no one durst go near him; and I +believe he sent to Galway, and telegraphed over to +Mr. Brian, would he like to bury him in Eversbeg. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>But Mr. Brian wrote back, he would not be indebted +to him for enough ground even to lay a dog in, let +alone a brother.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What an unforgiving set they are!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir; and little though you might think it, +Mr. Archibald Drewitt was just the same in some +things. There was a man talking to me about him +only the other day, a poor fellow of the name of Byrne, +who was turned off one of Mr. Drewitt’s lots the time +you stood for Duranmore. He would vote for you, +and so Mr. Drewitt said he should go, and he got a +farm under Mr. Waller; but someway, nothing went +well with him, and then he took a place as labourer, +with Mr. Maxwell. He had always liked Mr. Drewitt, +for he had a kind, affable way with him, and a friendly +look and a pleasant word for tenant and labourer just +the same; and of course whenever he met Mr. Drewitt, +for a while he touched his hat to him, expecting that +Mr. Drewitt would give him time of day,<a id='r1'></a><a href='#f1' class='c015'><sup>[1]</sup></a> or say it +was fine weather for the crops; or perhaps, how are +the pigs? or is the wife getting better, Barney? But +Mr. Drewitt never took the least notice of him, no +more than if he hadn’t been speaking to him every +week for the previous ten years. As you may suppose, +Barney quit touching his hat; but he said that +about two months before Mr. Drewitt’s death, he saw +him creeping along the road, and that his mind misgave +him the master was not long for this world. So +he thought he would like to speak to him once before +he went, (the old fellow cried when he told me about +it), and he stood up close to the roadside of the footpath, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>so that Mr. Drewitt could not help seeing him; +and he touched his hat, after twenty years, to his old +landlord again, and says: “I was sorry to hear you +had been bad, sir; I hope your honour’s better.” Mr. +Drewitt looked him all over from head to foot, and the +man was ragged enough; so perhaps, he thought his +politics had not done much for him; but he never answered +him, no more than if he had been dirt under +his feet. Byrne never saw him after that, but he followed +his coffin and saw it put in Eversbeg Abbey. I +call a thing like that carrying hatred too far; but of +course I am no judge.”</p> + +<div class='footnote' id='f1'> +<p class='c012'><a href='#r1'>1</a>. Meaning good-morning, or good-evening.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor walked on for a few steps in silence, +slowly, thinking of all his agent had told him while +he walked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then he began showing Mr. Connor the alterations +he desired to have made, remarking at the same +time—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is very likely my nephew and Miss Geraldine +may pay you a visit next summer, and I should like +the place to look its best in honour of them.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are they going,” began Connor, considering in +what suitable form of words to clothe his question, +“are they going to make a match of it?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They are talking of doing so,” answered Mr. +Pryor, with a smile which he could not suppress.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am right glad to hear it, sir, if I may make so +free as to say so. If Miss Geraldine is half as well as +every one here wishes her, she will make him a good +wife, and he will be a good husband to her!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Thank you, Connor.” Mr. Pryor said this simply, +and as though he was thanking Connor for some compliment +paid to himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>“And you think they will come next summer, +sir?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hope so,” answered Mr. Pryor: but many things +happened before that next summer which the barrister +then had no idea the future could bring to +pass.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He went to call on Lady Emmeline ere he returned +to London, and found her what Connor had +described—an old withered woman, bent and aged, +but still rouged to the eyes, and dressed in the extreme +of the fashion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am so glad to see you, Mr. Pryor,” she said, +entering the room with skirts so voluminous and crinoline +so extensive that it was some time before the barrister +could see which was woman and which steel and +silk and lace. “It was so kind of you to come, considering +all things, so very kind.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor ventured to think it was very kind of +her ladyship to say so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is the truth, it is nothing but the truth; there +are not many who would come running after an old +woman like me, though there was a time—” and Lady +Emmeline stopped, and would have coloured had not +the rouge on her face rendered such a performance as +impossible as it was unnecessary. “Do you remember +the election at Duranmore, Mr. Pryor? Ah! who that +saw me then would ever have thought I could come to +this?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>When a woman’s case is beyond flattery it is +beyond consolation. Mr. Pryor felt this and held his +tongue.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You have heard, I suppose,” resumed Lady Emmeline, +after leaving a decent space for compliment +<span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>had he chosen to fill it up, “that unfortunate circumstances +have compelled me to accept an asylum here. +Ah! dear; to think my husband should ever have +treated me as he has done: and I made him, Mr. +Pryor; it was my money made him; and I did once +think he was fond of me, I did indeed.” Poor Lady +Emmeline! there was no falsehood nor affectation about +those words; and although her tears might wear strange +channels down her cheeks, giving her a generally +wrung-out and draggled appearance about the face, +Mr. Pryor did not feel inclined even to smile, but +listened sympathetically while the neglected poetess +proceeded.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I often think of those sweet lines by Moore,” and +she repeated—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘When first I met thee warm and true,</div> + <div class='line in2'>There shone such truth about thee,</div> + <div class='line'>And on thy lips such promise hung</div> + <div class='line in2'>I thought ’twere sin to doubt thee.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“That was just my case, Mr. Pryor. I believed in him +implicitly. I thought he could say nothing but what +was good and true; that he was brave and honest. I +have found how much mistaken I was since those days. +But it is too late now for repentance, almost for regret;” +and she went on whispering, as was her wont, +the remainder of the lines—</p> + +<div class='lg-container-b c013'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“‘Go, deceiver, go—</div> + <div class='line in2'>The heart whose hopes could make it</div> + <div class='line'>Trust one so false, so low,</div> + <div class='line in2'>Deserved that thou shouldst break it.’</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“So false, so low,” she said, shaking her head sadly; +“aye, and so base and cruel, too.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thinking to divert her attention, Mr. Pryor asked +<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>her when she had been last in London, and when she +intended paying it another visit, and in return got +more than he bargained for.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In the spring she hoped to go to London again, +but not till then, unless, indeed, dear Geraldine’s marriage +took place first, in which case she should make +a point of being present.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was so truly delighted to hear of the probability +of her settling so well,” went on Lady Emmeline. “At +one time, do you know, Mr. Pryor, we all thought you +were to be the fortunate man. Shows how wrongly +people may judge sometimes—even the cleverest +people.” Which was a back-handed blow at her +husband.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor winced—the wound was still green—but +the lady proceeded. “I was always very fond of +Geraldine—fonder than of either of her brothers—though +Brian was a gentlemanlike lad, and promised +to grow up handsome. I thought Geraldine took most +after her mother. I suppose she is greatly improved +in her appearance since she went to London?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The barrister paused for a moment before he answered. +He was thinking of the Geraldine who had +stood talking with him on the way to Durrow, and +wondering in what way Lady Emmeline could imagine +it possible for such a vision of loveliness to be improved.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She is thinner,” he said; that seemed the truest +and most unconcerned statement he could make, under +the circumstances; “but otherwise I do not think her +much altered.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ah! Well, that would be an improvement,” said +<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>Lady Emmeline. “She was always a little too plump +for perfect elegance.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Opinions may differ on that point,” Mr. Pryor +would have answered, but he fortunately remembered +that Lady Emmeline, who had always prided herself +on her graceful figure and perfect elegance, was as +thin as a thread-paper.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He therefore contented himself with saying, that +when she came to London she would be able to judge +for herself; and shortly afterwards took his leave, though +earnestly entreated by Mrs. Vervensoe, <em>née</em> Munks, to +stop for dinner.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I had five hundred and sixty-one things I wanted +to ask you about,” said that energetic lady; “and I +had twice as many, I know, to tell you; but, however, +if you must go, why you must. It is treating us +very shabbily, though; and I do not know what Mr. +Vervensoe will say to me when he comes in, about +letting you go.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You should tell him, ‘a wilful man must have +his way,’ and then he can say nothing,” answered Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But, really now, is not it mean and shabby?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It would be, perhaps, if I could remain; but as I +cannot, you must exercise your charity, and think as +well of me as you can.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is no fear of our not thinking well of you. +Good-bye, then, if it must be good-bye. Give my love +to Geraldine, and tell her I shall expect a piece of the +wedding-cake; she had a bit of mine to dream on, I +know, when she was not three years old.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>With which pleasing reminiscence Mrs. Vervensoe +allowed their visitor to depart; and accordingly Mr. +<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>Pryor rode away from Cragantlet, which, though twenty +miles from Durrow, supposing Duranmore were taken +by the way, was not more than fifteen, if the traveller +turned up the lane leading past Regan’s, crossed the +Calgillan coach-road, and then kept straight on for the +ruins of Castle Cronach.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Under any circumstances it was a long ride, and a +lonely; and Mr. Pryor had got very weary of his own +thoughts before he reached the highway, with its +many turnings and windings, along which they had +trotted all four abreast the first day he ever beheld +Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had not gone a mile, however, past Castle +Cronach, when a new subject for thought presented +itself, in the shape of a jaunting-car, on which were +seated two gentlemen, one on each side, with the +driver occupying the position that of right belongs to +him, but which in Ireland he seems never to assume, +unless dire necessity compels his doing so.</p> + +<p class='c012'>One of the gentlemen was Maxwell Drewitt; the +other, a dark moustached youth, apparently not more +than two and twenty, though he had a beard that +might have been growing for a dozen years.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Campnell, I presume,” thought Mr. Pryor, as +the car pursued its way to Duranmore and he to +Durrow. “I wonder if he wears that mass of hair to +prevent any one tracing a likeness to his father; if it +be his father,” corrected the barrister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Where could they be coming from, Connor?” he +asked during the course of the evening.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Most likely from Castlebar. It is nearer from +here to Castlebar than it is from Galway to here, and +a nicer country to pass through too. And so you saw +<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>Mr. Campnell; and what kind of a looking young gentleman +is he, sir, if I may inquire?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is so covered with hair, it is almost impossible +to say what he is like. He has dark eyes, as +well as I could observe, and that is all I can tell you +about him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And he is only twenty-one, I hear.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was the rustling of a woman’s dress through +the hall, and Mr. Pryor, turning round sharply, +guessed that Mrs. Connor had been listening at the +open door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was nothing in their conversation that he +cared if all Ireland were cognizant of, yet the circumstance +gave him an uncomfortable impression, and made +him feel a little doubtful about Mrs. Connor’s entire +trustworthiness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>While she, poor Jenny! she stole out to a field at +the back of the house, where her children were playing +in the summer’s evening, and sitting down on the +grass, took the youngest to her heart, while she thought +about the boy she had borne in the times gone by; +whom she had never nursed on her knees; whom she +had never folded in her arms; whom she had been +forced to send away; whom she had never through the +years set eyes on; who would never be told the name +of his mother, but whom, she knew, was coming to +Kincorth that day, to be, if he lived, Kincorth’s +owner, when perhaps she and his father were both +dead.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIV.<br> <span class='c006'>What met Brian.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>A winter’s day in London, more especially when +that winter’s day happens to be raw, damp, drizzling +and foggy, is one, I think, of the most depressing +ordeals through which a human being can be called to +pass—a day when the streets are sloppy; when the +pavements are greasy; when the passing omnibuses are +full of wet men, and wetter women; when people poke +you in the eyes with their umbrellas; when more people +poke you in the ribs, and jostle you into the middle +of another set of people, who shove you back again +and probably anathematize you into the bargain; when +there is no business doing in shops, where the gas is +lighted, nor in offices, where the gas is lighted likewise; +when if you are out collecting money, nobody +will pay you; when if you owe any person any money, +everybody makes a point of boring you (in the gaslight), +and saying they felt sure of finding you within; +when the apples in the costermongers’ carts look damp +and dirty; when there is a dull yellow, leaden sky +above, and an atmosphere you can taste around you; +when London Bridge looks as much like water as the +Thames; when you do not feel as if there ever had +been any fine weather on earth; when you are quite +certain there will never be any fine weather again;—this, +I say, is the kind of day to try a man’s equanimity, +and to put his cheerfulness to the test.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>There was one man however who, having been set +down by an omnibus coming from the Borough at the +corner of Mansion House and Princes Streets, walked +along, careless of the weather, careless of the passers-by, +careless of the dull leaden sky, of the greasy pavements +and the sloppy horse-roads. He looked neither +to right nor left as he strode away after his business; +he was evidently thinking of something pleasant, carrying +his sunshine along with him, as some country-people +carry lanterns: that man was Brian Drewitt; +he had just come from Paris, and he was bound for +Austinfriars.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He wanted to see Mr. Gyton before he left the +City, and as it was getting on for three o’clock he +hurried his pace and dashed on towards Austinfriars +as though he were walking for a wager.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If you do not know Austinfriars, reader, you are +not acquainted with one of the queerest nooks that the +march of modern improvement and the heartlessness of +railway companies has left us. Before some new extension +gets its bill passed, I should recommend you +to go and see that curious spot, where, in 1253, says +Pennant, “was erected by Humphrey Bohun, Earl of +Hereford, the house of the Augustins, for friars eremites +of that order.” Until very recently, one of the oldest +churches in London (built before 1361) stood about +the centre of Austinfriars; the external walls still, I +believe, remain, but the interior was, unhappily, destroyed +by fire some few years since.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In it were laid great people: Edmund Guy de Meric, +who, it is stated, incited Richard <abbr title='the second'>II.</abbr> to the murder of +the Duke of Gloucester; Lucie, daughter of Barnaby, +Lord of Milan; the great Earl of Arundel, beheaded +<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>on Tower Hill, in 1397; the Earl of Oxford, who +suffered a similar fate in 1463; Edward Stafford, Duke +of Buckingham, in 1521; while, twenty-five years afterwards, +this church was filled with herrings, by order of +Henry <abbr title='the eighth'>VIII.</abbr>, who used Grey Friars, at the same period, +as a warehouse for wine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There are fewer historical records of Austinfriars +than of almost any other spot about the City. In a +map of London, <span class='fss'>A. D.</span> 1563, the old house of the +Augustines is not even marked; yet some gleams of +the olden glory still lie here and there—in its out-of-the-way +courts—in its old-fashioned houses—under +the stones of its ancient church—for the +curious in such matters to note, as they pass by.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Some time, it may be, that I shall ask you, reader +who have so often before this, strayed with me into +world-forgotten corners—into silent and deserted +nooks—to turn aside from the bustle and din of the +City streets, and spend a few minutes with me in +Austinfriars; but that day must not be now, when +Brian Drewitt is hurrying along to catch the head +of the great house of Gyton, Lark, Munday, Hatfield, +and Company, before he takes his portly person westward.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very cheerfully, Brian Drewitt pursued his way. +He knew that he had accomplished the business on +which he was sent abroad satisfactorily.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He felt certain he should receive the praise of his +employers for the manner in which he had performed +his mission. It had been intimated to him more than +once, that in being sent abroad he was also being put +on his trial, and that if he stood the test of the negotiation +entrusted to him, his salary would be at once +<span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>increased, and <a id='t202'></a>every facility afforded him for pushing +his way up to the very top of the tree.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When he reached the top, he had then his vague +designs of vengeance to gratify; but upon the lower +branches were hanging sweet home fruits, that Brian +longed to gather. He wanted to prevail on his mother +not to live with Geraldine; to live near, but not with +her; to have her all to himself, to provide with the +little luxuries that her delicate health required—that +it would he a pleasure and a pride to him to place +around her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If she went with Geraldine, it would be Frank +Gyton, and not Brian Drewitt, whose money might +anticipate her wants, and outspeed her very wishes. +No one knew better than Brian how both he and she +had saved, and pinched, to pay the expenses attendant +on Harold’s trial—on their removal to London—on +his long sickness—on his early death. Even +Geraldine never fully understood all her mother had +denied herself, so that Harold might not suffer for lack +of anything he desired. And now, hungrily and +greedily, the son who did comprehend everything, +longed to have his mother, who had suffered so much, +all to himself, that he might make her life a happy +one at last, and render the evening of her days the +calmest, the brightest, the peacefulest portion of her +existence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There are some men who, from their youth upwards, +need to have something to love—something +upon which to pour out all their affection, all their +devotion. It may be father, brother, sister, mother, +child, that they gather into their heart, and keep +there: whatever the object may be, it is love they +<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>give, rather than love they receive. It is necessary to +their very existence to be planning, thinking, working, +for some one; and during the entire of his short life, +Brian Drewitt had been planning, thinking, working, +for others rather than himself.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could scarcely remember the time when the +love he felt for his mother was not a species of +idolatry. Instinctively, perhaps, even from childhood, +the stronger nature knew that the weaker had need of +it; and as years went by, and the child became a boy, +and the boy a man, this feeling grew stronger and +stronger, till at last Brian came to understand that +whatsoever his mother stood in need of, if it were in +the power of a human being to procure it, she should +have her wish gratified.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And at last he felt that it would soon be in his +power to make his mother’s life comfortable and happy, +and to free it from care. Comfortable and happy—did +I not say once before, that was not to be in this +world for ever?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Onwards he sped; eager, sanguine, triumphant. +Mr. Gyton, senior, was not gone; and with his snuffbox +on the table, with his bandana ready for use, with +his coat thrown well back, and his thumbs stuck in +the arm-holes of his superfine black cloth waistcoat, he +listened to Brian’s narration with every sign of approval +visible in his face.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When Brian had quite finished he said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We did not expect you home until to-morrow; +but now that you are here I believe my son has something +to say to you. Meantime, I may add that you +can draw your salary at the rate of two hundred and +fifty pounds per annum from to-morrow.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>Mr. Gyton had a way of uttering those two words +“per annum” which always seemed to give money its +true value in the listener’s ears; and accordingly, +Brian Drewitt thanked him very heartily for the advance, +and had just reached the middle of a neatly-turned +sentence when Mr. Gyton, junior, entered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t stand wasting your time here, Brian,” he +said; “but go home at once. There’s something up +there. Geraldine sent here this morning to know your +address, and telegraphed for you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is it?” Brian asked: he stretched out his one +hand and seized the table tightly as he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your mother is very ill, I believe; don’t turn so +white, Brian; it may be nothing to signify. I have +told them to get you a cab. Should you like me to +go with you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, thank you,” Brian answered; “no—no.” +Even then he wanted to have her all to himself, and +he blindly made his way out of Mr. Gyton’s presence-chamber, +and across the clerks’ office, and down the +stairs, and so out into the court, at the entrance to +which a hansom was waiting for him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Drive fast!” that was all he could say; but the +man obeyed his instructions literally. Up the City +Road, round by Duncan Terrace, out across the Lower +Road, and then up Upper Street, till they were close +to Canonbury Tower.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Set me down here,” Brian said, pushing up the +little trap-door, and the driver pulled up instantly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your fare?” was the next question; and Brian +counted him out a sum, which even the man’s conscience +pricked him for demanding, without a remonstrance, +but stupidly, and as though he were drunk.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>He never could tell what feeling possessed him to +stop the cab and walk quietly up the street where was +his home. He never knew how he got from the cab +to the door opposite his own door, where he paused +and looked across the way.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Every blind in the house was down.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He saw a gentleman coming out; a gentleman +whose carriage stood waiting for him to enter. Brian +crossed the street and asked him what was the matter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A poor lady has done with all suffering,” was the +reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Drewitt?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes; are you her son?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was too much, the reaction was too great; and +Brian would have fallen on the pavement, but that he +staggered by chance against the doctor’s brougham.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come in,” said the doctor, “and I will go in with +you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I won’t,” answered Brian; and he turned and +walked back down the street, like one in a dream.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For hours and hours he walked about before he +could face the house again. With his clothes soaked +through, with his hair damp and wet, shivering with +the cold, heartbroken and miserable, Brian Drewitt at +last made up his mind to face the inevitable, and retraced +his steps towards home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was late in the evening when he approached the +door; the street-lamps had long been lighted; the shops +in Upper Street were all brilliantly illuminated as he +passed by; the pavements were crowded with people, +well-dressed, lively, happy, thoughtless; with women +going to make their purchases; with women only +curious to look through the windows at the goods displayed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>within; with men on their way from the City +to Holloway and Highbury; with the husbands, and +the brothers, and the lovers of the females, who were +going shopping, or window-gazing, with idlers and +loungers of all descriptions—amongst whom Brian +made his way, with a dull, stupid sorrow tearing at +his heart, with a conviction that he was going home +to meet something very dreadful—something that he +still doubted whether he should have strength of mind +to meet.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He lifted his hand to the knocker, and rapped +hesitatingly for admittance. When the servant opened +the door she put her apron to her eyes, and said, “Oh! +sir——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have heard,” Brian interrupted, sharp and stern, +and walked straight into the parlour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There sat Geraldine—her eyes red with weeping, +her cheeks pale with watching. Mrs. Gyton was holding +one hand, and Frank the other, while a man +whom Brian had never seen before was standing with +his back to the fire, talking vehemently and positively.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At sight of Brian, he stopped short, and while +Geraldine, with a cry, ran towards her brother, he +stooped down and inquired of Mr. Gyton who the new +comer might be.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Her brother,” was the answer; and when Brian +came forward into the room, he found his hand clasped +in that of the stranger, who said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is a poor welcome home for you, this—but +we did all for her we could.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“May I ask your name?” Brian’s tone was as quiet +as though nothing unusual were lying in the house.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span>“Murphy—at your service. It is many a year +since I saw you; and it is just the same time since I +saw your poor mother. God help her! she must have +gone through an awful lot of trouble. I can remember +her as young-looking as your sister is now, with her +hair as soft and dark every bit as yours, Miss; but +there is one comfort, she can feel no more sorrow +where she is gone: women’s heads are not turned grey +with grief there. Just let him be,” he whispered to +Francis Gyton. “You know he must feel it, so do not +try to get him to put on a face before you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian had sat down at the table and rested his +head on his hand. All at once he looked up, with +no dimness in his eye, with no hesitation in his +voice—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should like to see her,” he said; “may I go up +stairs?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Geraldine rose to go with him, but Mr. Murphy +gently pushed her aside.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“With your permission,” he observed, taking one +of the candles off the table, and he and Brian left the +room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Did you attend her?” Brian asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, I was only called in last night. She had a +very good doctor, though—very good. The whole +College of Surgeons could not have saved her, nor all +the physicians in London to the back of that.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was sudden, I suppose?” Brian scarcely spoke +above a whisper, and he drew Mr. Murphy nervously +into the drawing-room, still evidently unwilling to look +upon the dead.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Towards the last, very; but these cases always +<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>are sudden. She must have known how it would end +for a considerable time past.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can you tell me if she had been long under treatment?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Twelve months, her doctor says; but your sister +never knew a syllable of what was the matter with her. +She does not appear to have told a living soul belonging +to her a word about her disease.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And was it incurable from the first?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Could money have kept her with us a little +longer? had anxiety any share in hastening her +death?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not know; I cannot tell. Anxiety always +aggravates sickness, as a rule; and money also, as a +rule, alleviates it; but in this particular case I cannot +say. I do not know how she has lived; I can only +guess how she must have suffered.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a moment’s silence; then Mr. Murphy +said, “Are you ready?” and Brian bent his head in +answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The bed-chamber opened off the drawing-room with +folding-doors: as Mr. Murphy turned the handle of one +of these, Brian put his hand on the surgeon’s and held +it so tight that he could not shoot back the lock.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Shall we wait a while?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No—no;” and Brian relaxed his grasp and put +up his right hand to his head, as though, fancying he +had on his hat, he was going to remove it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The bed was made, and unoccupied; there was a +fearful formality in the arrangement of the furniture; +something terrible in the prim, frigid neatness which +pervaded the apartment.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>There had been a space cleared in the centre, and +there on trestles stood the shell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Murphy laid his hand on the lid, and looked +inquiringly at his companion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian nodded, and the surgeon pushed the lid +aside.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There she lay; there she slept the sleep that on +this side eternity knows no waking. She had been +tossed by the billows; she had been amid the waves; +she had been buffeted by the winds; she had been +beaten hither and thither by the world’s storms; she +had crossed the ocean of suffering; she had been out +in seas of trouble; she had felt the deeps go over her +head, and passed through torrents of tribulation—but +it was all over now—the voyage, the fear, the +struggle, the misery—for the Lord had taken her, +after much weariness, unto Himself to rest, and she +was at last brought by Him “unto the haven where +she would be.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There she lay, with the wrinkles smoothed out of +her face; with the lines care had written erased from +her forehead; with the beauty of her youth almost restored +to her—so unlike what she had been in her +later life, so different to what he could remember her, +that Brian Drewitt looked in Mr. Murphy’s face incredulously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is not my mother?” he said; and he drew +back a step.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is all you will ever again see for your mother +here,” was the reply, uttered slowly and thoughtfully.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian stooped over the coffin. Mr. Murphy always +believed he was listening to hear if she breathed; but +he was only touching her lips with his lips—only +<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>silently whispering words of tenderness—of passionate +sorrow—that he had a vague feeling she might understand, +though she could never answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Would you mind leaving me for a minute?” he +said, at last. “Would you go into the next room and +wait for me?—if you go down stairs some of them +will be coming up.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Without uttering a syllable, Mr. Murphy placed +the candle on the chimneypiece, and left Brian, closing +the folding-doors after him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The surgeon thought that very likely Brian wanted +to have a good cry unnoticed—unpitied. He had +seen as strong natures weeping in their agony and +despair. He knew the blow must have been heavy—the +wound sharp; and he knew, likewise, that at such +times sorrow must have its way in some form or other: +for all of which reasons, he left Brian willingly, and, +walking to one of the windows in the drawing-room, +lifted a corner of the blind and looked out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Had he been able to see what was passing in the +inner chamber, he would scarcely have remained contemplating +the wet street and the flickering gas-lamps +for so long.</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the head of his mother’s coffin Brian stood +erect; one arm was stretched out over the dead, and he +was swearing an oath, to himself, full of vengeance and +of hate. Beside her coffin he was pouring out imprecations +on all who had ever caused her misery—just +as Maxwell had said the peasants sat beside their desolate +hearths, cursing the men who had taken the +roofs off their heads, and left them without a shelter +from the storm.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There were no tears in Brian Drewitt’s eyes—there +<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>was no softness in Brian Drewitt’s heart. We +had best come out and close the door, and leaving him +alone; for the days were nigh at hand when he repented +him of his blasphemy—when he covered his +face, and acknowledged his sin, and bowed his head, +while that angel of the Lord,—which teaches unto +men all manner of good things—suffering—showed +him how God’s ways are not as man’s ways—how +they are eternally wise and eternally just, although, to +our short-sightedness, they may oftentimes seem indeed +inscrutable and past finding out.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XV.<br> <span class='c006'>Madcap’s last Leap.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>There was a great meet of the Duranmore foxhounds +at Kincorth, and on the lawn and about the +drive were hunters in abundance: gentlemen in scarlet +coats and buckskins by the dozen, grooms <em>ad libitum</em>, +and hangers-on past counting.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a clear, bright morning. Every man’s spirits +were of the highest; every man’s girths of the tightest; +everybody was expecting prime sport; and the breakfast +of which they had just partaken was one certainly +not calculated to damp their courage or to retard their +pace.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Wine had been drunk freely—conversation had +circulated more freely still. Mr. Maxwell Drewitt was +a good host, and knew how to make his guests comfortable; +and the absence of a lady of the house tended, +in the opinion of most present, to make the repast +pleasanter still. Mr. Drewitt was perhaps the gayest +of all present. He laughed, he joked, he talked, he +drank—not to excess—but certainly beyond his +wont; and he backed his mare, Madcap, to leap Durrow +River—if, as was most likely, the fox took that +course—better than the youngest hunter on the lawn. +“She is nine years old,” he said; “but I would not +change her for any other animal in my stable.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is a shame for you to be hunting her still,” +remarked Mr. Frost, who was Lady Marsden’s nephew.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>“It would be a shame for you to hunt her,” retorted +Maxwell; “for you ride, I suppose, thirteen stone +every pound of it; but I, who am a light weight, cannot +possibly distress her; and then she loves the +tally-ho! and the long swinging gallop after the hounds +as much as either of us.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>They had all risen from table by this time, and +were standing, some on the lawn, some in the hall, +some on the drive, making altogether a bright and +animated picture.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nothing prettier indeed in its way can be imagined +than the scene at Kincorth that morning. Far below +lay Duranmore Bay, with its green islands shining like +emeralds in the beams of the midday sun. Although +it was winter, the morning had broken up clear and +bright and pleasant; the mountains were not enveloped +in mists; you could see over the country for miles and +miles; in the distance the Twelve Pins showed blue +and distinct against the sky, while for foreground the +looker-on had the lawn and trees and gardens of Kincorth; +steeds plunging and pawing; grooms running +hither and thither; the dogs kept in order by the +whipper-in, and red coats and buckskins and top-boots +appearing at every turn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The fulness of life seemed to be in that place at +that moment; it was impossible to imagine sickness +prostrating one of those men, sorrow touching one of +their hearts, anguish wringing one of their souls.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The winter’s sun looked down upon the scene, +brightening and beautifying all it touched.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“One moment, Mr. Drewitt, if you please.” It was +Ryan, who spoke to his employer when Maxwell came +out to mount.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>“Make haste, then.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I should like to see you alone.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What a fool you must be, Ryan, coming at this +time! I cannot leave my guests. Say what you have +got to say here, or else leave it to a more convenient +opportunity.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must speak to you in private. Lead your horse +up to that privet hedge, if you do not wish to come +into the house, for speak to you I must and will.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell looked at the man who uttered these +words, looked at him from head to foot, but Ryan never +flinched.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am in earnest,” he said; “and I am sober. Let +me speak to you; I will not keep you five minutes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Drewitt flung the reins to a groom.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hold her a second,” he said, and turned aside +with his lawyer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now, what excuse have you to make for intruding +upon me?” he fiercely demanded: “what do you mean +by coming up here at such a time?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have a letter from London this morning,” said +Ryan. “Mrs. Drewitt is dead.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How the devil does her death concern me?” asked +Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It concerns me,” answered Ryan. “There is her +son dead—here is she dead. Mr. Drewitt, I can’t +stand it. I won’t stand it any longer.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you mean? Do you think I killed +them?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, I do,” returned Ryan; “you and I between +us. I wish to God I had let old Neill do his worst! I +wish to the Lord I had been hung, drawn, and quartered, +before I ever was indebted to you for sixpence! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>But I won’t hold my tongue any longer. You promised +me to do well for Mrs. Drewitt and her children, and +this is the end of it—this!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ryan, you are drunk,” said his employer, putting +a curb upon his temper as he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If I am, it is on grief then,” was the reply. “Oh! +why did I ever put it in your power to beggar them—to +send them away from home, and friends, and all, +to die!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is a question you ought to be able to answer +for yourself without any difficulty,” sneered Maxwell +Drewitt; “and as for holding your tongue, or not holding +it, you can exercise your own discretion. I am +not in your power. You may try to ruin me if you +like, but you will only ruin yourself. You may say +you gave the later will to me, and added the codicil +to the former will yourself, at my dictation; but you +have only your own word; you have no proof, no corroborative +evidence. And look here, Ryan,” he added; +“so sure as you begin a game of that kind, I will have +you shut up in a mad-house for life. Poor fool! you +thought to frighten me, I suppose. Go home, man, go +home; I am not such a born idiot as to let any created +being have the whip-hand of me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But I have the whip-hand of you,” answered Ryan; +“and if you don’t do the thing that is right by that +woman’s children, by—I’ll use it. I am no fool either, +Maxwell Drewitt. Yes, for all your properties, you are +no more than Maxwell Drewitt to me now. And I knew +that that Campnell you are so taken on with is your +own son, and that it was he, not Harold Drewitt, who +should have stood in the dock. Ha! have I touched +you at last? Who is the fool now? Can nobody put +<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>two and two together, do you think, but yourself? I +won’t keep silence,” he went on passionately; “it was +only last night I was dreaming about Mrs. Drewitt, +and I thought she came to the foot of my bed and +said: ‘Ryan, you know all about that robbery; clear +my poor boy’s memory.’ And I believe she was there, +that is, her spirit. I am sure she came and parted the +curtains, and spoke just those very words to me; and +I will clear his memory, unless you give back Kincorth, +or Kincorth’s value, to him who has the best right +to it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They are waiting for me, and I must go,” said +Maxwell Drewitt, and his voice sounded so strange +and unnatural, that Ryan’s rage was quieted for the +moment. “What do you mean to do?” he asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you mean to do?” and Maxwell faced +round on him like a maniac.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I mean to go to London and tell Brian Drewitt +all,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You can tell nothing without criminating yourself,” +said Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know that.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you will tell him—about—tell him of +what you suspect, in short?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, everything. I swore long ago I would be +even with you one day; and I will be even with you +now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you sure?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, I am;” and the pair drew back a step or +two from one another, and looked each in his enemy’s +face as they had done years before—years and years +previously, in that little cottage down by the sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t think you will,” began Maxwell, after he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span>had stared for a moment full into Ryan’s eyes; “I +don’t think you will. You say Arthur Campnell is my +son, and you say right; but you have not said who +Arthur Campnell’s mother is. Can you guess?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, and do not want to guess. What can it signify +to me who she was?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you guess?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have told you I will not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Shall I tell you her name?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you like.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you ask me to tell you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then I will tell you without your asking. Arthur +Campnell’s mother lives over at Durrow, and her husband’s +name is Connor. Now do your worst. The +man must get up very early in the morning who means +to play card against card with me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are the damndest villain, and the most +cursed liar!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Am I? Go and ask your sister if I lie.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will; and if I find you are lying, as I feel sure +you are—if I make sure you have thrown dirt on +her name to shield your son from disgrace, then, Maxwell +Drewitt, then the dogs pity your cries, for I +won’t. I swear I won’t!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But he spoke the last words to the air, for Mr. +Drewitt had already left him, and was walking rapidly +across the lawn to the spot where his horse stood.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In his heart he was cursing the hunt and the +guests, the sunshine and the breeze; and as he rode to +the piece of plantation on the side of Calgillan Hill, +where the underwood was thick and the fox hidden +away, he wished he had sent Ryan out of the country +<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>long before, and that, let come or go what would, he +had not told him anything about Jenny, whom he had +betrayed and ruined and deserted in the years that +were now so very far behind him—in the years that +could return no more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You were right—he has made for Durrow,” said +Mr. Frost; and the words were scarcely out of his lips +before the hounds were off in full cry, and the horses +off after them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On and away; galloping across the fields; leaping +the eternal stone fences; plunging through bogs; dashing +over the moorland—in the excitement of that mad +ride Maxwell forgot everything save the wild pleasure +which is caused by passing at the full top of a horse’s +speed through the air—forgot everything save the +pace at which Madcap was going, and the ease with +which she took her leaps.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now for the river!” he said, and as though +Madcap had heard his words, she laid back her ears, +and bounded on like a thing possessed, towards the +bank.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Age had not stiffened her limbs, nor crippled her +pace. There was not a horse in the field could keep +up with her save one, and that was a hunter belonging +to Captain Crabbe, and ridden by that gentleman’s +son, who, having been trying all the way to pass +Madcap, now shot by, almost touching the chesnut as +he did so, and eliciting a volley of oaths from Maxwell +for his awkwardness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Boring on the bit, Madcap tore along. All her +spirit was up, and she flew after Captain Crabbe’s +fleabitten old screw, as Maxwell had often contemptuously +called the horse, like the wind.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>Maxwell had his work cut out to hold her. It was +a beautiful piece of turf, smooth and level as a bowling-green. +There was no break, no pause, till they came +to the river, which ran broad and deep between two +steep and awkward banks away to the sea. Mr. Crabbe +was already close on the brink; but at that very moment, +when he thought he was going to beat the +chesnut for ever—when with a blow of his heel and +cut of his whip he was urging his horse to the leap, +the brute swerved suddenly round, and sticking its +plain ugly neck out straight before it, galloped back +as hard as it could go along the way it had come.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Crabbe, taken completely unawares by this +sudden manœuvre, had scarcely recovered himself from +the shock of the sudden baulk before there came a +tremendous crash.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell, tearing on for the leap himself, could not +get out of the way. He saw the collision coming, but +was powerless to avert it. He felt a shock just as +though a battering ram had come up against him; a +shock which lifted him right out of the saddle—lifted +him so high, that he could remember the reins being +jerked out of his hand; and then he came down flat, +with his back on the ground and his face to the sky; +in which position he lay while the whole field jumped +over him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Drewitt’s down—Drewitt’s dead!” was the shout; +but not a man could stop his horse to look after him +until Mr. Frost, who had not been going at quite so +furious a pace as the others, managed to pull up, and +dismount.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’m not dead,” Maxwell managed to say, “but +I’m badly hurt; don’t touch me. I didn’t try to move +<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>because I knew the horses would leap me, and that if +I stirred I should likely have my brains knocked out. +Let me lie quiet for a while; don’t stop for me, +go on.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But there were about half a dozen gathered about +him by this time who would not go on; who sent to +the nearest cabin and had a door taken off its hinges, +on which Maxwell, groaning with pain, was laid gently +and tenderly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The mare?” he said; but nobody answered him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The mare?” he repeated, and Mr. Frost asked—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Where is the chesnut? he wants to know.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She is all right,” answered some one.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are not telling me the truth?” Maxwell said, +turning his eyes on the speaker, for he was too much +shaken to move his head. “I want to know about the +mare.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, then, if you must know, poor old Madcap +has taken her last leap, and she died in taking it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The injured man made no answer; he closed his +eyes; whilst all the people around looked at one +another.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was not a person present who did not feel +grieved at Madcap’s end.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She had been to each of them almost as a friend—so +gallant, so fleet, so daring, so proud of herself, +and her small head, and her arched neck, and her +flowing mane, and her shining coat—so proud, so +petted, so dainty, so conceited, and so beautiful, that +Lord Marsden once said, “He thought there must be +a woman’s soul inside her, for that he had never seen +an animal give herself such airs and graces before.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Poor Chessy—poor Madcap! She had made on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>like the rest for her leap, and taken it—taken it at +the worst point she could have chosen. Missing her +footing on the other side, she fought desperately for a +moment to keep herself from slipping while she tried +to scramble up the bank. One man made a clutch at +her bridle, but missed it, fortunately, perhaps, for him; +for, with a scream almost such as a human being might +have uttered, she fell backwards into the river.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Flynn had always said she was as sensible as a +Christian, and those who saw that mad struggle for +life, who heard that sound which is never uttered by +a horse, save under the influence of some terrible pain, +or some frightful fear, thought that Madcap must have +had a kind of human comprehension of what the river’s +bed held for her—great blocks of granite, which cut +her all to bits; huge stones, against which she was +knocked all to pieces; and just enough water to float +her, lying on her side and kicking convulsively, down +the stream, which was dyed red with her blood.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Poor Madcap—poor beauty! She kept her head +up as long as she could, but soon her strength failed, +her neck sank below the surface, the water filled her +nostrils, and before many minutes it was all over.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She had,” as Maxwell’s informant truly said, +“taken her last leap, and died in taking it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And there’s not her like left in Ireland,” remarked +Flynn, who in the course of the afternoon dragged +her, stiff and stark, out of the river, at a curve half a +mile below where the accident happened, and then he +fell to sobbing over her like a child.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’ll hamstring that brute of Crabbe’s the first time +I get the chance,” he said to the grooms who came +with him; “a score of such ill-looking divils wouldn’t +<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>make one of her. Not but what we must all die some +day,” he concluded; “and I don’t know that I wouldn’t +as soon she had died that way as any other.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Maxwell, in the midst of his own pain, in +the midst of his own agony, he could not get the +thought of that dead animal out of his mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was not because he had ever cared for her, as +some men do care for their horses; it was not that her +wise, winning ways, her playful tricks, her never-failing +spirit had made him feel for her any real +affection; but he had been proud of her, vain of her. +She had been his, and she was the best mare in the +county; and above and beyond all this, there seemed +to Maxwell something more than mere accident about +the whole affair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Like many men who are utterly irreligious, he was +superstitious; and, lying there with his eyes shut, his +mind was busy, piecing, in a kind of delirium, past, +present, and future into a connected whole.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He saw Brian bidding his farewell to that mare +the night he left Kincorth and went out into the world. +He saw Harold taking that desperate leap at the Headlands; +and he remembered, at the same time, that Harold +was dead. He had heard that morning of Mrs. Drewitt’s +death; he had been asked by Ryan to act justly +at last by his uncle’s living children—and he refused. +Ryan had threatened him; and he in return stabbed +the lawyer in his tenderest point.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had ridden out on Harold’s mare; and now +Madcap was dead, too; while he was being carried, +though he did not know it, straight as the mare who +bore him could go to Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The same thing, or worse, might have happened, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>no matter on what horse he had been mounted; but, as +the “wicked flee when no man pursueth,” so the +wicked likewise are apt to be superstitious about circumstances +to which better men would attach no importance; +and the fever, which was already upon him, +made Maxwell look at all things with a fearful and +troubled mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He thought of what Ryan had said about Mrs. +Drewitt; and he wondered if, when he was alone, she +would come and stand at the foot of his bed, too.</p> + +<p class='c012'>How many more times was Harold going to take +that hedge?—how often was his uncle’s head to drop +forward on Brian’s breast? He knew they were carrying +him to Kincorth; for he could see Kathleen standing +at the hall-door; and Jenny, too—Jenny, with a +child in her arms; he and she were wandering through +the glen. They could not get the cover of the will +opened—the seals would not break. They need not +mind—he could tell them what was in the codicil—he +had got Ryan to add it. Yes, and he could let them +into a secret about what would make ink look faded! +What was that? Was the house falling? He was going +up in the air—up—up—up; and then his mind +ceased to wander—for he fainted.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVI.<br> <span class='c006'>After long Years.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Ryan stood in the spot where Maxwell had left +him until the riders were all gone—until the last red +coat, the last groom, the last whipper-in, had disappeared +from view; then, like a man rousing him from +a dream, he moved slowly away, and took the hill-path +towards Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Most men have some sense of honour—some point +where, if you cut down deep enough, blood will spout +out; and a woman’s virtue was that sensitive place in +Timothy Ryan.</p> + +<p class='c012'>To him it seemed that a woman should be pure as +snow—that for her fame to be breathed on was for +it to be sullied. He had his own ideal of what the sex +should be: and that ideal was very lofty and very +beautiful. Pretty well he knew what men were; he +knew more of their bad than of their good, perhaps; +but women!</p> + +<p class='c012'>The angels were not purer or more holy than the +generality of women, in Ryan’s estimation; and one of +the women whom he had loved, honoured, and adored, +for many a year past, was his own sister, of whom +Maxwell had asserted such things as made his very +heart stand still.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But he did not believe it—he would not believe +it unless her own lips condemned her. While he +walked across the hills he kept saying this to himself, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>and then he would hurry on for a few steps, only again +to stop and linger—linger by the way.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He sat down on blocks of granite, and pulled the +grass and heather up by the roots, while he thought +the matter over, till he went almost mad.</p> + +<p class='c012'>His own life had not been peculiarly honest or +honourable. He had done many a dirty trick; he had +helped Maxwell Drewitt to serve many a man a mean +turn; he had not been scrupulous in the way of business; +he had lent a hand at forging the codicil; he +had given, or, rather, allowed Maxwell to take the +second will.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had not been at all nice as to what filth he +put his hand into, and he had not felt many qualms +of conscience in his life; but now, behold, there was a +spot on his sister’s robe, and he could not bear it; +could not endure to think she had deceived him and +her husband, and—and everybody, thought the poor +fellow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will not believe it,” he ended. “I will go on; +I will ask her about the matter, and then I will return +to Kincorth and cram his words down his lying throat +if there were a hundred people with him; for I will +not believe Jenny could be bad—I will not—I +will not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was easy enough to say this—easy enough to +repeat the words over and over, over and over again—but, +alas! the more he repeated them the less he +believed them; the more surely conviction stole over +his heart that Jenny had once fallen from her high +estate; that Jenny was not pure, not innocent, not +what he had fondly imagined his sister, and Connor’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>wife, and the mother of her children, to be—a woman +as much above fear as beyond reproach.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Onwards towards Durrow, with the mountains to +his right hand and the Atlantic to his left. But Ryan +never looked either to right or left; never looked, that +is, noticing the hills or the sea. His heart was full to +bursting. He had been a bad man, and an unscrupulous, +and now the hour of reckoning was at +hand. His health was ruined by drinking, his nerves +were shattered, he had been unhinged by hearing of +Mrs. Drewitt’s death, and now it seemed to him as +though sorrows were multiplying upon him, while he +paused at intervals, and asked himself—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What if it be true—what if he did not speak +falsely after all?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Connor was alone, and sitting at work in one +of the upper rooms, when her brother entered. He +was a frequent visitor, so Jenny did not attach any +importance to his coming till he had been seated for a +few minutes, when, noticing the anxious, troubled expression +of his face, she asked him what was the +matter, whether anything was amiss.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is a good deal amiss, Jenny, that I want +to talk with you about. Is Dennis out?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, he has gone to Duranmore, I think. What +is wrong, Timothy? Can I be of any use to you? Is +it money? Sure Dennis is always willing to lend to +you when he has it. What is wrong? Tell me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She had laid down her work, and was close beside +him. She was a woman who never could grow old—who +had such gentle, clinging ways, such loving, +winning manners, that she was always to Ryan the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>young sister, the sweet Jenny whom he had once +trembled might go off with Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Once! what was that dread to this?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is not money, Jenny,” he answered. “I wish +to God it were! I have got many a thing to say to +you. Go back to your chair, dear, and sit down. Let +me see, where was I?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Going to tell me about this trouble that has come +to you,” she said. It never struck her it could be any +trouble relating to her; she had been safe for so long. +There were none alive that knew her secret who would +reveal it; through the years it had never oozed out, +and she did not imagine that after long years her sin +could be brought to her remembrance by any human +being.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have bad news, Jenny,” he began, after a moment’s +hesitation. She sat with her hands folded together +in her lap, her eyes fixed on his face, her lips +a little parted, and he felt he could not plunge into +<em>that</em> question without leading up to it in some indirect +manner. “I have bad news. Mrs. Drewitt is dead!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dead!” Mrs. Connor repeated, and the slight +colour faded out of her cheeks, and her eyes brimmed +full of tears. “I am very sorry to hear it. She was +a nice lady.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And hardly done by.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am afraid she was. My heart was sore for her +that night she came here after Mr. Drewitt’s funeral. +How did you hear about it, Timothy? did Mr. Brian +write to Mr. Maxwell?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Brian will never write to Mr. Maxwell, and +small blame to him for it. No, it was Mr. Murphy +wrote to me, whatever possessed him—Murphy that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>used to be with Sheen, I mean, who was so sweet on +you. He’s a great man now, I believe. Somebody +told me he was making two or three thousand a-year; +but maybe it is not true.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She did not stay long after Mr. Harold. I wonder +if it was the fretting killed her.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t know, I am sure—likely as not, for she +worshipped the ground he walked on. He was a fine +lad.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He was,” answered Jenny, simply; “but I was +fondest of Mr. Brian.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Did you ever see anybody Harold favoured?” asked +Ryan, suddenly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Never. Mr. Pryor always said he was the image +of his cousin. I never could see it, though.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Pryor was right; but there is another person +who is more like Harold than his cousin ever was; +that is, another person who must have been like Harold +when he was Harold’s age.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who is that?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mr. Campnell, the young gentleman who was at +Kincorth last autumn.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I never saw him.” But the colour came back +into her cheek, and her eyes drooped under the look +of eager, anxious inquiry her brother fixed upon +her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Say that again, Jenny; say you never saw him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I never saw him,” she repeated.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is it the truth you are telling me, or is it a lie?” +He rose in his suspense and misery, and stood directly +facing her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why should I tell you a lie about the matter?” +she asked. “What can Mr. Campnell be to me that +<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>I should fear to speak the truth? I never set eyes on +him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And yet Maxwell Drewitt told me, not two hours +ago, you were his mother?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The work she had taken up again dropped from +her fingers; she lifted her face to her brother’s with a +cry of helpless despair. Against any other testimony +she might have maintained her innocence; but it was +useless to attempt any further denial. Against him—false +first and last—false as cruel—deceitful as +relentless—there was no appeal.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You need not speak, Jenny,” he said; “you need +not rack your brain to think what other falsehood you +can coin to try and deceive me. I see it is all true. +Oh! Jenny, Jenny.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She did not say a word—she could not say a +word—she was so stunned, so confused, so wretched, +that she could do nothing but sit and wonder if the +misery of the past would all have to be endured over +again; if she had not suffered enough then, that this +fresh disgrace was come to her—that this blow had +been dealt to her by <em>him</em>.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I suppose this was the reason you would not marry +for so long. I suppose this was what made you refuse +offer after offer, and live on single till I’m sure I +thought you never were going to be a wife at all. But +though you deceived me, Jenny, I hope you did not +deceive him. I hope you never let any honest man +take you as you were, ignorantly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She put out her hands, and there came such a look +of horror into her white face as made Ryan turn round +to see what could have caused it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Behind him stood Connor, who, having heard the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>last part of his brother-in-law’s sentence, asked hoarsely +what they were talking about—what it all meant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It means, I ought never to have married you, +Dennis,” she broke out passionately. “It means, I am +all he says, and worse. It means, that years, and +years, and years ago I sinned, and that now my sin +has found me out.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is it?” he repeated. “I do not understand +it at all. Are you both mad? What is it, Tim? Tell +me what she says.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She says she is not what we both took her to be,” +answered Ryan, bitterly. “She confesses—that—that +boy Maxwell Drewitt has ‘adopted’ is her son, +and his son, and their son.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And God knows, Dennis, that many a time I +would have given anything to have been able to tell +you this—that when you have been telling me how +happy—” the poor creature’s voice was choked with +sobs—“how happy you were, I felt my heart turn +cold, thinking about my fault. I did not want to +marry you, Dennis; you know I didn’t. And I have +been true and faithful to you since; and I was so +young, and I am the mother of your children, and +you have had every thought of my heart, and every +bit of my love, since ever you took me home. Won’t +you forgive, Dennis?—sure you couldn’t cast me +off?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>She stretched out her arms towards him, but he +made no step forward to take her to him. He averted +his face that he might not look at the woman who had +deceived him; who had lain in his bosom, and lived +with him through the years and borne him children, +knowing what she knew about herself all the time.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>“Dennis!” and she was going to fling herself at +his feet, but her brother prevented her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Connor,” he said, holding her back, and standing +resolutely between them, “I don’t ask you—I can’t +ask you to keep her. She has brought shame and disgrace +to both of us. She is no more to you now than +if she had never been your wife; but she is my own +sister just the same as ever; so I will e’en take her +with me;” and suiting the action to the word, Ryan +drew her arm within his and led her, spite of her +struggles and remonstrances towards the door.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was stern justice, stern and sharp, and Jenny +rebelled against it.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let me go back to him,” she said; “don’t try to +take me from him, Tim. He is not that hard—he +will listen to me, and forgive me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>They had reached the door by this time, and one +of her children, her youngest, came running along the +passage, calling out “Mammy—Mammy.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>At the words she fought to free herself, and succeeding, +caught the little fellow to her heart and covered +his face with kisses.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very resolutely, Ryan took the boy from her and +setting him down, said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Run away, Johnny, and play yourself; run away, +you have no mother now;” and he drew his sister’s +arm in his once more and walked on towards the head +of the staircase.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This time Jenny made no effort to free herself; no +struggle to return. With the full sense of her dishonour +brought home by that one solitary sentence, she +staggered forward, weeping bitter tears for her shame +and their disgrace.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>Weeping for a stain that the floods of Niagara +could not have washed away; for hearts broken; for +sin discovered; for confidence abused; for love betrayed!</p> + +<p class='c012'>So they descended the stairs together; she crying +audibly; he weeping tears not to be noticed of men, +but seen of God—tears not of brine from his eyes, +but of blood from his heart.</p> + +<p class='c012'>So, clasping her hand closer and tighter, he guided +her down step by step: he who had never forsaken her +in joy or in sorrow—who was true to her in bad +report as in good—who, reckless and unscrupulous +and unprincipled though he might be in most things—who, +fallen though he knew her to be, was her +faithful brother still.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Step by step they descended that broad staircase; +but when they reached the bottom, a hoarse voice called +after them to stop; and Connor, running down the flight, +laid his hand on Jenny’s shoulder.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Give me my wife!” he said; “she has been a +good wife to me, and you shall not take her from me. +Jenny, haven’t you loved me? haven’t you been true +to me since we came together? Only say that, and I +won’t mind the rest. I’ll try to forget it, Jenny—I’ll +think it was a bad dream. There—there—darling; +don’t fret. I was stunned like for the minute; +but I could not have let you go; no, I couldn’t, dear, +I couldn’t.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Her arms were about his neck; her head was resting +on his shoulder; her tears were falling like rain; +and she was striving to articulate some words of thankfulness +and blessing, when there was a trampling over +the ground outside of many horses’ hoofs, and of many +<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>men’s feet; then a loud knocking; and then followed a +scene of indescribable confusion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was nearer to bring him here than take him to +Kincorth. Shall we carry him upstairs? He is not +dead, though he is badly hurt. Who is it, d’ye say? +It is Mr. Drewitt; who else? He was thrown just on +the other side Durrow River; and the chesnut mare is +killed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“God help us!” exclaimed Connor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And we have sent for the doctor; and there’s a +heap of gentlemen outside there; and shall we take +him upstairs, or will you make him up a bed down +here? That would be best, if you could do it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Where is he hurt?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Sorra a one of me knows,” answered the man +addressed; “he groaned that bad at first, I am sure you +might have heard him up here; but he’s fainted now, +I think. Likely as not he won’t get over it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>By this time several of the gentlemen had alighted +and entered the house. From them Connor learned +the particulars of the accident.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The rest are gone after the fox,” said Mr. Frost; +“but I have have had enough hunting for to-day; and +so I think have my friends here. I never was more +upset in my life.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whereupon Mr. Connor suggested that a little +whiskey might not be unacceptable; or “some wine,” +he added. “Mr. Pryor’s Madeira is very good, I’m +told.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let us have two or three bottles up, then. I +should like to hear the doctor’s opinion of Mr. Drewitt. +I have been thinking since, that we ought perhaps to +have taken him to Kincorth; for I suspect he won’t be +<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>able to move from here for many and many a day—unless, +indeed, he is moved away in his coffin.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, sir, we must only do our best for him, if +he does stay,” answered Connor, who could not, at +such a time, remember his own injuries, or nurse his +own anger.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Sickness, like death, is a great soother of human +passions; and Maxwell Drewitt’s state was for a long +time sufficiently critical to render it doubtful whether +he should ever leave Durrow again, except for his +grave.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Day followed day—week succeeded to week—and +month to month—but still Maxwell was unable +to leave his bed. What he thought of, as he lay there, +weak and faint and helpless, who can tell?—not +even Jenny could imagine—though, judging by the +words he let fall in his delirium, his reveries could +scarcely, during convalescence, have been pleasant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>All through that illness he was nursed and tended +by the people he had injured—by Ryan and Connor +and Jenny; and that he ever recovered sufficiently to +leave Durrow and return to Kincorth, was owing more +to their care and attention than to any other cause.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But Maxwell was not grateful for their kindness. +I think he hated them all bitterly for thus heaping +coals of fire upon his head. I believe he could have +struck Ryan when he told him how he had kept forwarding +money to Mr. Campnell, at that gentleman’s +request, without waiting for Mr. Drewitt’s recovery, or +troubling him on the subject till he should regain his +strength.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And in a letter I had from him the other day,” +proceeded the lawyer, “he says he wishes you would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>reconsider your decision and purchase him a commission, +as he should prefer a soldier’s life to any other.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If he choose a soldier’s life he must go as a private, +and never look for a shilling from me,” retorted +Mr. Drewitt. “The boy is a fool, and he must be +brought to his senses.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVII.<br> <span class='c006'>The Beginning of the End.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Once again the summer sun was shining over +Kincorth—brightly as on the day this story opened—and +under the shadow of the overarching trees +Maxwell Drewitt stood gazing up at the house just as +he had done twenty-five years previously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was then three-and-twenty; he was now eight-and-forty: +he was then full of youth and health and +strength; he was now older than his age, a man stricken +and feeble, who might never have a vigorous body or +a sound constitution again. That fall, though it had +failed to kill, had yet injured him permanently. He +could know no more what it was to be free from ache +and pain, to care nothing about the weather, to be +insensible to fatigue, to have an iron frame, an indomitable +spirit.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A minute—less than a minute—had sufficed +to make him a perfect wreck; a worn, sickly man, +who, having formed no sweet home-ties for himself in +the days of his strength, was now, in the time of his +weakness, lonely and desolate.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Upon him the sunlight that streamed through the +branches of the trees fell brightly, as they had fallen +brightly, if you remember, five-and-twenty years before. +He was starting on life’s journey then; that +journey was nearly over now.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had planned then, he had hoped. The plans +<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>were now realities, the hopes certainties. He had +longed to possess, and Kincorth was his. He had determined +to be wealthy, and behold he had gold at his +command. He had resolved to make the name of +Drewitt notable, and the name of Drewitt had become +remarkable. He had declared he would make the +estate valuable, the property something to talk about, +and in the length and breadth of Connemara there +were not two lovelier places than Kincorth and Headlands. +He had made up his mind to have his revenge, +and uncle and aunt and youngest-born were all gone +to their graves, poor, and stricken, and sorrowful, while +Brian was a clerk in London—Brian, who ought to +have had Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If success be happiness, Maxwell Drewitt should +have been a man without a care; but the best-mounted +horseman has as often that imp sitting behind him on +the crupper as the poorest man riding on the shaggiest +pony. Care, as a rule, indeed, loves high places, and +care never left Maxwell Drewitt’s side now by day or +night.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Care for his own life; care for the man who was +to come after him; care lest the winds of heaven might +blow upon his own cheek too roughly; lest Arthur, the +only thing he had on earth belonging to him, should +go hopelessly astray.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He was doing no good at college; he was spending +money as though he had an income of a thousand +pounds a week; he was wild, he was reckless, he was +intractable; and yet Maxwell, in his own fashion, loved +him, perhaps on the same principle that a prisoner +loves a rat; namely, because he had nothing else to +care for.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>And the youth knew this, and traded on it; winding +the man who had never been weak before round +his finger as easily as Maxwell had wound others in +the days gone by.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of his son and of his health, Maxwell Drewitt was +thinking while he stood under the trees, looking up at +Kincorth. He felt that for him, life was over—life +with its purposes, its hopes, its successes; and occasionally +he could not help asking himself how it would +be when not only the life of work was over, but the +bare life—the living and breathing that would, he +knew, continue after every capacity for exertion, every +power of action had been taken from him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>House to house, acre to acre, property to property! +for this end—to be standing with the best part of +his existence—health—taken away from him; +thinking in solitude of that unknown world concerning +which the clergy preached continually; the secrets of +which not one of the departed had ever returned to +reveal.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The next world! There is a something very terrible +to a man like Maxwell Drewitt in the idea of +leaving all he has most enjoyed, most coveted, most +valued, and going away to the cold and silent grave. +He could not bear it; he shrank from the reality of +death; he turned away from the grim spectre; he fled +from the unwelcome thoughts that would intrude themselves +upon him. He could not bear to be alone; he +would have anybody to sit with him rather than remain +in solitude. He wished he had not quarrelled +with his wife, and made overtures of reconciliation to +her; but Lady Emmeline, now resident in London, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>refused his offers, and treated his advances with indifference +and coldness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could not get Ryan to come and chat with +him, and the evenings were frightful. He had no +strength to endure the racket of company, and it was +not likely that the men he knew would take pity on +an invalid, and bear with his temper in sickness as +they had borne with it in health.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The rector would have come; but Maxwell, after +one or two trials, abandoned that experiment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He thought of going away, but he did not know +where to go, and, besides, it was in his nature to cling +to his home and his country—to remain in the midst +of the scenery he knew so well rather than take up +his abode in the midst of a great city. He wished he +had some one to stay always with him, always to speak +to, always to have at his elbow, whom he could tell +to drive away that demon who always would persist +in reminding him that the days were passing—passing; +that there must come an hour when soul and body +would have to be parted—when time would be the +shadow, and eternity the substance.</p> + +<p class='c012'>If he had even Wilhelmina; but Wilhelmina and +her husband and her children had sailed a year before +for America. Susan was in the country—that is, in +England; but then he had always hated Susan, and he +had quarrelled fearfully with Captain, now Colonel, +Ellenham about her fortune. When that individual, +who had long been a widower, discovered that under +Mr. Drewitt’s will Susan was entitled to a small fortune, +he married her forthwith; and over the matter of +that fortune he and Maxwell had exchanged such +<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>letters as few people have inclination to send, or leisure +to pen.</p> + +<p class='c012'>No, he had not a soul excepting his son; and his +son would not consent to take up his abode permanently +in Connemara—not, at any rate, until he had +seen the world. He wanted to be an officer—he +would be an officer; his father must purchase him a +commission.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In his very last letter he repeated this statement, +and expressed a wish that a remittance might be forwarded +to him immediately.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I must stop the supplies,” Mr. Drewitt decided, +as he walked away from under the trees, and retraced +his steps towards the house slowly and painfully. “Yes, +I must stop the supplies; that will bring him to his +senses.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The next letter from his son announced that he +had gone to London, and begged again for money. In +reply, Maxwell referred him to his former letter, and +desired him to return home.</p> + +<p class='c012'>During the week, Arthur wrote once more, and +intimated that if “the needful,” as he called it, were +not forthcoming from Connemara, he must get it elsewhere, +and in some mode which might be disagreeable +to his father.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The tone of the correspondence was, by this time, +waxing warm, and accordingly Mr. Drewitt answered—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That for Arthur’s own sake, he hoped he would +get it honestly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>After that there came a lull; for a month there was +not a line from this unrepentant prodigal, and Maxwell +was getting most seriously anxious about his black +sheep, when one morning the post brought two pleasant +<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>pieces of intelligence to him at the same time: +news that his son had enlisted and that the mutiny in +India had broken out.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Arthur was very penitent, very submissive; he had +seen quite enough of soldiering to satisfy him. He +wanted to be bought off. If his father would but buy +him off, he would do everything he required. He would +settle in Connemara, and never ask to stir outside the +gates of Kincorth, unless his father permitted him to +do so. He would make it the study of his life to obey +and please his parent; he would thankfully accept any +conditions his father chose to impose. He confessed he +had been a bad son; that considering his birth, he had +not estimated Mr. Drewitt’s kindness at its proper value, +and he wound up by imploring his father to get him +out of the service somehow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have got into, perhaps, the very worst regiment +I could have done,” he finished, “and our colonel is +one of the most detestable men, they tell me, in the +whole of the British army. His name is Ellenham.</p> + +<div class='lg-container-r'> + <div class='linegroup'> + <div class='group'> + <div class='line'>“Your affectionate son.”</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class=“invisible”> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell dropped the letter on the carpet. Were +his troubles to have no end? Had he been prosperous +for so long only that the tide might turn at last, and +bring nothing but sorrow to him on its waves?</p> + +<p class='c012'>What had he done, that in middle life he should +be stricken down in the pride of his health and +strength?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Wherein did he now differ from the Maxwell of +former years—that everything he touched in those +days should have gone well with him—while nothing +that he now desired would come to pass—nothing?</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>In a moment he had grasped all the facts of the +case—in a moment he realized the complicated difficulties +of his position. He knew, if Colonel Ellenham +guessed Arthur to be his son, that he would throw +such obstacles in the way of purchasing his discharge +as might make that discharge impossible to obtain. He +was well aware how much the war in India would increase +his embarrassment; and he sat on, pondering +and pondering what he should do—how it would be +best for him to proceed, while his son’s letter lay on +the carpet and the newspaper was spread out before him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Look at him now, reader. Would you know him? +Remembering what he was when this story opened, +would you have imagined it within the bounds of probability +that—long before old age had laid its hand +upon him—long before winter’s withering frosts had +come to pick the green leaves off the goodly tree—to +dry up its sap, to strip it of its beauty, and to leave it +bare and destitute of foliage, almost in the summer of +his life—he could have changed to this?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Sitting alone there, the terrible ravages sickness +and pain had made were plainly to be traced; and, +with Maxwell Drewitt, when once his physical beauty +was destroyed, everything was destroyed; and he who +had once been so haughty—so insolent—so handsome—was +now but as any other bowed and beaten +man.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And in that hour he was humbling himself mentally—he +was bending his proud spirit to ask a favour +from a man whom he detested. He only knew one +person in London who would, he felt sure, work for +his son’s release heart and soul—and that person was +Geoffry Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>Yet Geoffry Pryor had read him through in the +days gone by; and, reading him, had refused his proffered +hand, and never grasped it since.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Nevertheless, it was to him Maxwell Drewitt made +up his mind to apply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will send Ryan to Dublin by this night’s mail,” +he decided; “and he can cross to Holyhead to-morrow +morning.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Sickness had not dulled the keen brain, though it +had wasted and worn his body. He could think rapidly, +though it was pain and misery to him to move +swiftly. He could still chalk out a plan, and make +others act upon it, though the days were gone for ever +when he could execute his designs himself and be dependent +on no other man living to see that they were +carried out to his satisfaction.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you think I had better follow you?” he inquired; +but Ryan answered, “No. I am certain, if +any person can get him off, Mr. Pryor will find that +man; and you will only knock yourself up by going +travelling in such hot weather as this. No; you keep +yourself quiet, and rely on us. I will do my best—if +only for <em>her</em> sake—be sure of that.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Yes, they were all rowing in the same boat now. +Ryan could never disassociate his interests from Maxwell, +nor Maxwell his from Ryan in the future for +ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The comparison may not seem complimentary to +the married state; but in one respect guilt is very like +matrimony. Whether people like or hate, they must +endure each his fellow’s company when once they have +bound themselves together in the bonds of sin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is as difficult for rogues to get a divorce as for +<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>husband and wife; and accordingly what Maxwell and +Ryan had been in the beginning, so they continued to +the end.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I had better ride to Galway, I suppose,” Ryan +observed; “there is no dependence to be placed on +those post-horses.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Nonsense,” answered his employer. “The mail-car +can take you as safely as the letters, I should +imagine.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I won’t risk it,” returned Ryan; “there might not +he a vacant seat.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And how about your luggage?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The car can bring a carpet-bag after me; there is +sure to be room for that.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“One word more, Ryan. Don’t let him out of your +sight; bring him straight back with you here, till we +try if we cannot make something of him. I wish to +heaven he was as wise as he is handsome!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He’ll never be wise, I’m right sure of that,” was +the reply; “but I will do what you tell me. I will +bring him back to you.” And with that Ryan left the +room, while Maxwell remained fuming over his last +words.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What right had any man to say his son would +never be wise? Was not he clever enough? was not +he young? If he had gone wrong once, what of that? +He should be a credit and a comfort to him yet. Once +let him (Maxwell) have him back again in Connemara, +and he would look him out a wife who should keep +him in order, and give him an interest in the county.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Many a girl would snap at such a chance, and +he, Maxwell, could take the opportunity of making a +proviso that his heir should assume the name of Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>“It would be pleasant for him to have his son and +his son’s wife living in the house, and the chatter of +children’s tongues and the patter of children’s feet +might yet break the funeral silence of the empty rooms, +by the doors of which he dreaded to pass.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Always this man had longed for children, and now, +with a more terrible longing than ever, he desired to +hear young voices ringing in his ears—to have something +lively and bright to chase away the gloom that +was enveloping him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>With all his heart and with all his soul he wished +he had brought Arthur home sooner; that he had insisted +years and years before on having him at the +Headlands, instead of leaving him among strangers.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He recollected why he had not done so. How he +had calculated on Lady Emmeline’s death, and on his +second marriage, and on the chances of legitimate +issue.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The scroll of his life could not have been pleasant +reading in the days of which I am now writing, and +it was little marvel that Maxwell Drewitt opened that +manuscript as seldom as possible.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Rather he preferred to dream dreams, and see visions; +to picture to himself the young wife who would +make the old house seem home-like and cheerful, the +children who might gambol on the lawn.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Dreams—dreams—sad and pitiful to think that +they could never be realized! visions so bright that +when the disillusion came the man whose life was almost +over could not bear the blow!</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was on himself he had built before; it was on +another he was building now: that made all the difference. +He had been always able to tell what course he +<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>should pursue; but the course his son might adopt was +darkness to him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>One of the children of this world, he had been wise +in his generation; one of the fools of this world, there +was no counting upon what Arthur might do from day +to day.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And what he finally did was this:—</p> + +<p class='c012'>While Mr. Pryor, after vainly trying to come to +some arrangement with Colonel Ellenham, was running +after one great man after another, to try to procure +Arthur’s discharge, that young gentleman, wearied of +the ill-success attendant on his friend’s efforts, coolly +did the most foolish thing possible under the circumstances, +namely, took the matter into his own hands +and deserted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That I ever should have been father to such an +idiot!” exclaimed Maxwell Drewitt when the news +reached him. “There is no hope for him now, unless we +can discover where he is and get him out of the country.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And even, in fancy, he never again heard the chatter +of children’s tongues or the patter of children’s feet; +the lonely rooms he could fill no more, even in dreams, +with light and life and merriment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Deeper and darker grew the night, lonelier and +more desolate grew the man—sad and pitiful! sinner +that he had been—for the days were come at last +when he said he had no pleasure in them. He had +thought to live long, and to have much enjoyment, and +behold he found out in a moment that what Solomon +said was true: “Man knoweth not his time: as the +fishes are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that +are caught in the snare, so are the sons of men snared +in an evil time when it falleth suddenly upon them.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XVIII.<br> <span class='c006'>Man’s Vengeance.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>The world had prospered with Brian Drewitt since +his mother’s death; his salary was still indeed not excessive, +but he was promised an increase very shortly, +and Mr. Francis Gyton had further thrown out many +vague hints to the effect that in his, Frank Gyton’s +opinion, it would be far jollier if they (he and Brian) +were to cut the old connection, and start in business +on their own account.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know I could not stand Munday, so there is no +use in my father talking of taking me into partnership,” +he said one evening when he and Brian were +walking up westward together from the City. “I think +such a lot of partners are a damned nuisance, and I +should like to get clear of them. So, to cut the matter +short, Brian, whenever I am married I should like to +commence with you. I can find the tin, and you the +brains—is it a bargain?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Your father?” hesitated Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My father will be a little restive at first, but +when he is tired of opposition he will give in, and it +is of no use mincing the matter, Brian; Mr. Munday +and I cannot remain in the same business together. +What do you say—will you be my man, or will you +not?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will not, without speaking first to your father +in the matter. He has been very kind to me, and—”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>“And you will do the respectful and all the rest of +it, and I will do the dutiful; so that, between us, the +old gentleman will be as easily managed as possible. I +should not wonder if he came over to us himself, for +he likes Munday no better than I do.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mrs. Drewitt’s death had of course postponed Geraldine’s +marriage, and as it had also crippled their means, +brother and sister were now living in a cottage at +Highgate, which Mr. Gyton entertained some idea of +purchasing for his son.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Throw out a drawing-room there, and build a +conservatory here, and put the kitchens at the back, +and it would really make a very charming little residence. +Love in a cottage, eh, Geraldine?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whereupon Geraldine blushed and laughed, while +the evening sunshine fell upon her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you will require coach-house and stabling; +in fact, the whole place will need alteration; but it is +a lovely situation—lovely!” and the great man stood +back to admire the view. “I tell you what it is, Miss,” +he went on; “I shall get so fond of this cottage one of +these days, that you will have me taking up my abode +here,” and he pinched the girl’s cheek, who, passing +her hand through his arm, said coaxingly—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Something has taken up its abode here that would +astonish you. I wonder if I might tell you, or whether +you would be shocked. It is a deserter, a countryman +of my own.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“A deserter?—you are jesting, Geraldine.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am not jesting at all,” she answered. “Our +servant found him in the wood-shed, this morning, and +he is half-starved, and badly clad, and ill and miserable.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>“Good bless me!” exclaimed Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And I want your help to send him over to America, +or Newfoundland, or some place,” added Geraldine, +with that charming ambiguity of expression which is +so pleasing a characteristic of her sex.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But—but—but all this is very illegal; extremely +improper,” began Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We don’t care for law at all in Ireland,” answered +Geraldine, demurely; “and in such a case as this, not +much for propriety.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You incorrigible little girl, I don’t know what I +must say to you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Say you will pay his passage out to America,” +she suggested. “If I had the money, I would do it in +a minute.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But it is against law: the proper course for you +to pursue, would be to go down to Scotland Yard, and +give information that such and such a person was concealed +on your premises.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Geraldine broke out into a peal of laughter. “Should +you really like me to go to Scotland Yard, Mr. Gyton?” +she suggested. “Would a note not do as well, or could +Frank not call round in the morning? Is there any +reward? I think I should like to get a reward.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What are you talking about?” demanded Lady +Emmeline, who was likewise of the party. “I declare, +any person might think it was you and Mr. Gyton who +were engaged, instead of you and Frank.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“So we are engaged for life, as father and daughter,” +replied the millionaire; “we were talking about a deserter. +Geraldine, it appears, keeps one among her +coals and wood.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are not serious?”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>“Perfectly serious. I dare say the young man is +on view at the present moment.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dear me! how romantic!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is romantic,” added Geraldine; “for he is evidently +a gentleman; he has been to Oxford, at the +University, I mean—a student there, or whatever +you call it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think, Mr. Gyton, that this affair ought to be +investigated,” said Lady Emmeline.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think so, too,” was the reply. “Suppose we +send for a policeman?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If a policeman come here I will smash his skull +for him!” remarked Brian, at this juncture.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dear! dear! what a set of people you Irish are!” +observed Mr. Gyton. “A man has only to shoot his +landlord—or be a rebel—or a deserter—or something +of that kind, to engage all your sympathies!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You would not have us give him up?” exclaimed +Brian, his voice sounding loud and angry, as he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Certainly not, sir. To an Englishman I might +suggest such a course; but to an Irishman—never. +The proper thing for you to do, is to feed him, clothe +him, love him, and then send him over to America, to +hate the English, and say we are the cause of all Ireland’s +misfortunes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>For the life of him, Brian could not help laughing. +The sketch was so true—so real and so ready.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Could not we get a peep at him?” asked Lady +Emmeline.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Certainly,” answered Brian; “at five pounds a +head.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is he worth the money, Lady Emmeline, do you +consider?” inquired Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>“Now, how can one possibly tell that unless one +sees him?” demanded Lady Emmeline. “You really +must allow us some discretion, Brian.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“As much as you please,” Brian answered, “if you +give me five pounds.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is it as a charity?” inquired her ladyship.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“As a charity,” Brian replied, bowing low.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then there is my five pounds,” said Lady Emmeline, +putting five sovereigns into Brian’s hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And five pounds for me and five for my wife,” +added Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You won’t charge me anything, Brian? I am +one of the family,” said Mr. Francis Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And well able to afford to pay for the sight,” +added Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What a leech you are! Won’t my I O U do as +well? Won’t you trust me? ’Pon my honour, I have +not five pounds about me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I will pay for him,” said Geraldine, drawing +out her purse; “but remember, Frank, it is out of my +housekeeping money; so you must give it back to me +honestly.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And thus, amidst much laughing, they collected +twenty pounds, on the strength of which the deserter +was brought by Brian into the little parlour of Spring +Lodge.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, but really now, you know—joking apart, +excuse me, but, my good fellow, this is really very +irregular,” remarked Mr. Gyton, senior.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I suppose no one can know that better than he,” +said Brian, looking at the thin pale face, the hollow +cheeks, the unshaved chin, the grisly moustache, with +an interest he could neither have explained nor defined.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>“And where do you come from?” asked Frank +Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“From Yorkshire,” was the reply; “that young +lady (indicating Geraldine) will have it that I am from +Ireland, but she is mistaken.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, I am not,” answered Geraldine. “No Englishman +ever pronounced ‘have it’—‘haf’t’—as +you do.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What is your name?” inquired Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ward,” he said; “Charles Ward.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is not,” exclaimed Lady Emmeline; “it is +Campnell, and you are Mr. Maxwell Drewitt’s illegitimate +son.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you know him?” asked Brian, hurriedly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Know him? To be sure I do. Didn’t I see him +in Connemara last year? Have not you noticed the +likeness between him and Harold?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>In a moment Brian comprehended what had +attracted him about the deserter. In an instant he +formed his plans. The hour of vengeance was striking +at last, and it would be his own fault if he faltered in +his design.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Through Maxwell’s son he must hurt Maxwell; +and soon after he rose, and left the room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>While they were all talking together, speaking +to Arthur Campnell, asking him how he chanced to +enlist, how he came to desert, Geraldine left the room +likewise. She searched all over the house, she made +inquiries of the servants, their own, and Mr. Gyton, +and Lady Emmeline’s. None knew where Brian had +gone; but one man had seen him go out of the gate, +and walk down the hill.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Tell Mr. Gyton I want him,” Geraldine said; +<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>“not Mr. Frank, but Mr. Gyton.” And Mr. Gyton +came out. “Brian is gone to give information,” she +said; “we must get him away, and at once.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Geraldine, you are dreaming,” exclaimed Mr. +Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Am I? You don’t know Brian as well as I do. +So long as he thought that man was simply a deserter, +he would have died before letting a hair of his head +be touched; but now he knows him to be Maxwell’s +son, he would put a rope round his neck, and hang +him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“God bless my soul! you don’t say no!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I do say so,” she answered; “and I say you +know nothing of the Irish, whose hate is as strong as +their love. I noticed his face change, the moment +Lady Emmeline said who Arthur was, and I know +he must be got away from here without a moment’s +delay.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But really, that is, you know——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Take him to Mr. Pryor; he will see to him—he +will get him off,” said Geraldine. And accordingly, +greatly to his disgust, Mr. Gyton was persuaded to +drive off, with a deserter in his carriage personating +Frank.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And now, Geoffry,” added Mr. Gyton, when he +had finished his narrative, “let me entreat of you to +get him away as soon as possible. He is no credit to +the family; and one really cannot get through life +respectably, if deserters, and so forth, are to be hidden +in our coal-cellars and larders. Really, Mr. Maxwell +Drewitt ought to have more consideration,” he continued; +but Mr. Pryor smiled.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Maxwell Drewitt does not know what to do with +<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>this boy, whom he means to make his heir. It is a +lamentable business altogether; but, as you say, there +is nothing for it except to get him to Ireland, and out +of the country as soon as possible.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did not think Brian would really have informed,” +remarked Mr. Gyton.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It would be hard to say what he might, or what +he might not do, where his cousin is concerned,” was +the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And with regard to this youth?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Leave him to me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Meanwhile, there were high words waging at Highgate +between Geraldine and her brother.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was accusing him of meanness, cowardice, +vindictiveness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He retorted by saying she was cold, insensible, +heartless.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Indifferent to our mother’s sufferings—to Harold’s +disgrace.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Our mother, on her death-bed, said, that you +were to forgive, as you hoped to be forgiven,” answered +Geraldine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You should not talk about what you do not understand, +Geraldine,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I understood that well enough,” she replied; “and +I know that long letter she wrote to you was full of +nothing else but regrets for ever having encouraged +your dislike of Maxwell, and not having checked your +desire for revenge.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She was an angel.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She was.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who never could carry a feeling of resentment; +and therefore it behoves me—I tell you, Geraldine, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>it behoves me to remember her wrongs, and have no +mercy.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is not what she would tell you, Brian, if she +were alive. But there is no use in our arguing this +point out now, for Maxwell’s son is now beyond the +reach of your vindictiveness.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you quite satisfied of that?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, I am. Oh, Brian! do not push this matter +further. Think if it had been Harold!—and he is +so like Harold.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“So was the lad who stole those notes.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you think it was he that took them?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Think!” he repeated, contemptuously; “I am +sure of it. What is your opinion of your protégé, +now?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a long pause, during the continuance +of which Geraldine sat weeping silently. At last, she +said—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Brian, do you imagine it would comfort Harold +to know you were pursuing that young man for his +sake?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It comforts me,” he replied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now, when he is gone where his innocence is +known, what can it matter to him who goes free on +earth?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It matters to his memory, Geraldine.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And who cares for his memory? who but a few +that, believing him innocent in life, cannot doubt him +in death?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“We need not talk any further about the matter,” +said Brian, angrily. “I am doing what I consider +right; and no one shall convince me to the contrary.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think I could,” said Mr. Pryor, who, late though +<span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>the hour was, entered at the moment. “Brian, you +have done very wrong!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have not!” was the answer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I told you yourself, years ago, you were preparing +a bitter cup; but you would not listen to my +warning. That youth was safe here. No one would +have suspected his being concealed in such a house as +this; and we could easily have shipped him off from +here to some place of safety. Now, I candidly say, I +do not know what we are to do. Every plan seems +beset with danger and difficulty!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am glad to hear it,” remarked Brian, sullenly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, Brian, you are not. Vindictive though you +may be, you could not in cool blood—you could +not, I am sure—give that boy over to be flogged +and branded!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I could! believing, as I do, that his father will +feel every lash and every touch of the iron through him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And his mother, Brian?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The mother of such a son must be as bad as his +father.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She is not! I know her well; and I know she is +not! Shall I tell you her name, Brian?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It can have no interest for me,” he answered; +“but you may tell me, if you like.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Mrs. Connor!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No!” Brian started to his feet. “No! I tell +you it is not—it shall not be!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How can you prevent it? the fact is so. Mrs. +Connor, when she was Jenny Bourke—young, pretty, +guileless—brought that boy into the world, whom +you have tried your best this night, Brian, to give up +to trial and punishment.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>“Mr. Pryor, God is my witness! I thought I was +only doing my duty!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Duty toward whom?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“To my mother’s memory—to Harold’s! For myself +and Geraldine, I do not care—I never have +cared; but no soul can give <em>them</em> any comfort or happiness +here. And I vowed—I swore—if ever I +could pay Maxwell back any portion of the suffering +he had caused them, I would do so.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Did not your mother leave some parting message +for you—some words that must have sounded as +though uttered from her coffin?” asked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She did,” was the reply; “but though she might +forgive for herself, I did not think myself bound to +comply with her request and forgive for her. So long +as we are in the flesh we must act like men; and it is +not like a man to forgive and forget such injuries as +Maxwell heaped on us.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Brian, do you think it is our affair to manage the +world—to avenge wrongs, to requite the virtuous +and punish the wicked?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How can I tell?” he answered. “I suppose we +are instruments; and when one sees a man like Maxwell +prosperous, happy, respected, what is one to do—how +is one to act?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not as you have done, at any rate; we are all so +mixed up here, that if we strike a blow we never can +tell whose heart may feel the wound most severely. +As in this case, for instance, you never guessed Mrs. +Connor could be mixed up in such a matter.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, the young fellow is gone,” answered Brian, +impatiently; “he is not caught, I suppose; and wherever +Geraldine sent him, I conclude he is safe enough.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>“Is he? there were inquiries at my house not half +an hour ago, and if I had not been quicker than they +suspected, the boy would have been now on his way +back to barracks.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian made no answer; he sat for a long time +silent, for many minutes he never spoke one word; +then he rose and left the room in silence.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is sorry,” Geraldine remarked; and Geraldine +was right. Brian was gone away, to mourn in solitude; +not that he had tried to punish Maxwell’s son, but that +Maxwell’s son was also Jenny’s boy—poor Jenny, to +whom he had once vowed to be grateful for life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Next morning Ryan and his nephew started for +Ireland; proceeding thither, not by the Dublin and +Holyhead route, but running down by the Great +Western to Milford Haven, whence they crossed to +Waterford; from which place Mr. Ryan meant to work +their way by all manner of curious routes to Connemara.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Once there we shall be safe,” thought Mr. Ryan; +but he reckoned without his host.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wonder if they have reached Kincorth?” Mr. +Pryor remarked, the day but one after their departure, +to Brian, who had never opened his lips on the subject +from the night he discovered who the deserter +really was until that present moment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If who have reached Kincorth?” asked the +younger man.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ryan and his nephew.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They have not gone to Ireland, surely—they +have not been so mad as that?” exclaimed Brian, all +in a hurry and tremble.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>“Why not? it seemed to me a much safer place +than London.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But I told them whose son he was—they are +certain to be on the look-out. Why did you say nothing +to me—oh! why did not you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>They were walking down the Holloway Road at +the moment, and Mr. Pryor, without answering Brian +by a word, called a passing Hansom, and jumped in.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Where are you going?” asked Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am going to Lothbury, to the Telegraph Office, +to stop your work, if I can.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let me go with you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No;” and Mr. Pryor banged the door of the Hansom +and was off.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian had never seen him angry before, never out +of temper; and as he stood there alone on the edge of +the broad pavement, between the Seven Sisters Road +and the railway bridge, he began to feel that he had +indeed done more evil than he could readily undo, that +he had let his revenge get the better not merely of +his charity but of his prudence, and that unless he +could give some assistance in the matter he should feel +wretched for life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Wretched for life! Did he know the meaning of +the words he was whispering to his own soul? had he +other than the vaguest comprehension of the misery he +had wrought both for others and himself?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Flogged—branded! Somehow he derived no sort +of satisfaction from the idea of his enemy being punished +now.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had kept his pebble and turned it, taken it out +and slung it, and struck his foe in the very place +where it had delighted him to think the blow would +<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>take effect. But now that it had taken effect—now +that his enemy was worsted, that his pebble was gone +out of his own keeping, that he had taken his own +way, and revenged himself at once on the man who +had cast them out of Kincorth, and the boy who had +damaged Harold’s character past repair—he could +not help asking himself what good there was likely to +come of it all to her, or him, or them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>To him or her? Should he go up to the churchyard +sloping towards the west and tell the earth how +he had taken one step forward to the end he had laid +out for himself? Should he whisper to the dead that +he had made the living wretched for their sakes? +Should he tell the wind that stirred the grass growing +green on Harold’s grave how the delinquent was at +last discovered, how he had set the officers of justice +on his track? Would not the dead be gratified; could +not he make them hear that; would not the words +bring them back to life? Had not he well obeyed his +mother’s dying injunction, that he should forgive as he +hoped to be forgiven; and from the heavens would she +not look approvingly at the base act of vindictive +hatred of which he had been guilty?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Dimly as he walked along all this passed through +his mind; vaguely he began to see he had chosen the +wrong path, that others had been right, that he had +been wrong. Somewhere he had heard of a better +way of avenging oneself upon an enemy than by +branding and scourging, of a way which did not raise +every feeling of a man’s heart into ten times worse +hatred and antagonism, but which instead “heaped +coals of fire upon his head.” Nothing he could do—nothing—nothing +for ever might comfort or soothe +<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>the departed: the “dull cold ear of death” could +hearken to no words that it was in his power to frame: +if he killed Maxwell and laid his body on their graves, +what could it profit them? Could he bring them back +again? and if he could, oh God! if he could, would it +not be awful to see them rise up and rejoice because +their enemy was brought low?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very speedily Brian made up his mind he would +follow Mr. Pryor, hear what he had done, and then, if +need were, start that night for Ireland.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He might be of some use, he might be able to +render some assistance; and “I declare to you, Mr. +Pryor,” he said, “that if I could retrace my steps I +would; if I could take that night back and act my +part in it over again, I would not do one thing I have +done, not one.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Even a savage would not have been so treacherous, +so inhospitable,” answered Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I know it,” was the reply; “but are we always +able to argue out such questions coolly? Does the man +live who has never believed he has seen clearly walking +through the darkness?”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XIX.<br> <span class='c006'>Through Connemara.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Maxwell Drewitt sat alone in the dining-room at +Kincorth, waiting for his son; he had waited many +days and yet the fugitive came not, neither had any +tidings of Arthur reached him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had watched for the post, he had strained his +ears to catch the sound of horses’ feet, the noise of +coming wheels. He had risen early, and gone to bed +late; he had lain through the night wakeful and restless, +and still there arrived no tidings; he had no data +to go upon except Mr. Pryor’s telegram which he held +in his hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Sorrow had told upon him; the suspense, the +agony, the alternations of hope and fear had broken +him down more and more. He was old—old and +stricken; and as he crouched over the fire, which a +damp autumnal evening had rendered acceptable, I +think a more hopeless picture of the vanity of human +wishes, of the end of human desires, could not have +been presented for consideration.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Where was the erect carriage, the bold, defiant +glance, the indolent grace of movement, the insolent +overbearing manner? Gone, friends, gone—like the +raven hue of his own glossy hair; like the cold brightness +of his eyes; like the beauty he had been proud +of, and that women had been won by; gone—gone +for ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>The passionless sneer had left his lips and given +place to a sort of irrepressible convulsion. He could +not walk now as he had walked in former years along +the shore of Duranmore Bay, kicking the pebbles before +him; but when at last he arose from his chair, in +order to make his way to one of the windows, he had +to support himself with a stick and to catch at chairs +and tables as he passed by.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a wild night; the equinoctial gales were +blowing their fiercest, and Maxwell, standing leaning +against the window-frame, thought of how the waves +must be lashing up against Eversbeg Head; how the +billows must be raging and tossing outside the bay.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a something so dreary in the idea of +that limitless ocean; those thousands of miles of tempestuous +waters; that great expanse of sea without an +island, without a shore, without a rock; those great +deeps, shouting under the night to one another, while +the floods clapped their hands—that Maxwell could +not bear it; he had to turn from the window, and +make his way feebly to the hearth, and stir up the +fire, and try to think of a more cheerful subject.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But what cheerful subject had he to think of—this +man, who had lived for the midday, and not for +the night?</p> + +<p class='c012'>He could think of his boy, but of nothing else—of +his boy, who, all unknown to him, was fleeing +through Connemara towards Kincorth; who was trying +to outstrip his pursuers, whom Ryan had promised to +mislead, if possible, at Oughterard.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Through the night he was riding as if for his life; +while the wind howled down among the mountains and +through the valleys, and washed the waters of the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>lakes over the low stone walls that are in some places +all that separates them from the highway—he rode on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had lost his hat about six miles on the Duranmore +side of Oughterard, and now, as he galloped +through the darkness, the wind tossed his hair hither +and thither, now leaving his forehead bare, and again +blinding him with locks that were dead-black as +Harold’s had been. On—on—without a pause, except +when the steepness of the ground necessitated +pulling up his horse and walking—on past the giant +mountains; past the eternal lakes; past the long low +line of hills that lay between him and the sea; past +bogs and morasses; over mountain-streams, over brawling +torrents—still on through the darkness towards +Kincorth.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Having gained the Calgillan road, he dismounted, +unfastened his girths, took the saddle off his good +steed’s back, and the bridle off his head, and then +turned the animal adrift. Saddle and bridle he carried +till he reached the plantations of Kincorth, when he +left the main road, and hiding his belongings deep in +the underwood, made his way across the fields towards +the house.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They are after me, father,” were his first words; +“but I have got the start. Mr. Ryan said you were +not to keep me here, but forward me on to Durrow. +I don’t know my way there.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He stood in the centre of the room while he spoke, +with the firelight flickering over his pale face, with his +straight hair tangled and matted, with a weary, anxious +look on his countenance, with a hunted expression in +his dark eyes.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who let you in?” Maxwell asked. It was no +<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>time for the interchange of much ceremony—for +many words to be wasted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dickson; and I have warned him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go into the next room for a minute while I ring +the bell. Bring wine,” Maxwell ordered, “and, Dickson, +come here for a moment.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is Flynn gone?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He leaves at six, you know, sir, usually, and it +is now eleven.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Could you put the roan horse in the car?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The other servants are gone to-bed, I suppose?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“All, except the cook, sir.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Take the horse and car round to the back avenue, +and then sit up for me. If anybody comes here asking +where I am, say I have gone to Lord Marsden’s to +dinner, and will not be back till late—perhaps not +till morning, and—and—you know the rest, Dickson.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir. I am to say Mr. Arthur has not been +here.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now go. Of course you will sit up for me. +Should there be danger, light a candle in the blue +room, and I will be on my guard; you understand?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Perfectly, sir. But surely you are not going out +to-night; excuse me, sir, but——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Necessity knows no law,” finished Maxwell Drewitt, +with something of his old decision of manner. “Now, +Arthur, drink some wine, to put life into you; for it +may be many a night before you are able to put your +head under a roof again.” And while his son followed +his advice in silence, the wretched father sat and +looked at the only child he ever had.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>“Surely you are not coming with me?” said Arthur, +as his father arose and intimated it was time for +them to depart. “It is an awful night, cold, and +bleak, and threatening for rain. Let me try to find +my way alone, if you would rather not trust Dickson.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am not afraid of trusting Dickson,” was the +reply; “but I must leave some one to answer their inquiries +should they come.” Arthur shuddered; too well +he knew who <em>they</em> meant. “And as for the night, I +shall be better out; the cold air will not hurt me.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Would not it? He knew better; but he knew, +also, that anything would be preferable to remaining +at home in suspense; and, besides, after all, whom +could he trust so well as himself—who could keep +the secret like he and Arthur?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Through the night they pressed on together—father +and son.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As they drove along that interminable road towards +Durrow, Maxwell could not help thinking, that +at some previous time he had traversed it under circumstances +similar to the present; and all at once, as +they drew near Castle Cronach, he remembered what +Mr. Gyton had said about riding for one’s life through +Connemara; and about how a man who was doing so +would curse those bends and twists and curves.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There are some things which impress us with such +a sense of reality—with such a feeling that at a +future day we shall pass through what we fancy then—as +gives us the idea, when the future day arrives, +that we have not prefigured the event, but that it has +actually happened at some former period.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was Maxwell’s state of mind, at all events; +and as the keen wind swept by—as the rain began +<span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>pattering in his face—as he felt the nipping night +air blowing through and through him, he could not +help occasionally marvelling which was the dream, and +which the reality—which was the shadow, and which +the substance. Had he ever ridden along that road +with three companions? Was he driving it in very +truth then? Had he ever been strong enough to ride? +Was he only imagining he was driving now? Were +there people following them? Did he hear the sound +of horses’ hoofs behind?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is only the wind,” Arthur kept saying; but +Maxwell lashed the roan on for all that.</p> + +<p class='c012'>How long the road was! How he did curse those +curves! how he did anathematize the engineer who +planned, and the men who made it! How every winding +seemed to double itself in length! how every mile +appeared to quadruple itself in distance! But there, +at last, thank God! at last, was Durrow!</p> + +<p class='c012'>They soon knocked Mr. Connor up, and explained +to him the state of the case.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are on good terms with the fishermen, Connor,” +said Mr. Drewitt; “get Skerritt to stow Arthur +away till he can be taken off in some smuggling craft. +Make it all right with the men; and say, I don’t mind +five hundred pounds when I hear he is safe in France. +It is more than you are worth, boy,” he added. “Don’t +you think, now, you have been more trouble than profit +to me, all your life long?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>His voice shook and trembled as he spoke; and +Mr. Connor drew back, knowing they were about to +say farewell to one another.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It will be safest for us to leave you in their +hands entirely,” explained Mr. Drewitt; “I am not +<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>afraid of any informers among them. Write to me, +when you get clear off. You will have money and +clothes provided for you on board the vessel. If I +can, I will join you in France; but do not attempt to +come back to these countries. And now good-bye, for +the present. Good-bye!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He held out his hand—he had never been much +given to caressing, and it was the only mode of leave-taking +he knew; but Arthur fell on his neck and wept; +and Maxwell felt those tears dropping down into his +heart, one by one.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It had been a cold heart and a dead—it had lain +numb through life, only to waken up with pain and +grief towards the last; and now he felt not only his +son’s tears softening him, but the memory of other +tears he had seen flow—of other sobs he had heard +in the night—of other anguish he had let go away +unsoothed—came up before him then—the ghosts of +dead realities, the shadows of things that had all once +been.</p> + +<p class='c012'>A few seconds and it was over; that was no time +at which to waste precious moments in grief or in +adieux; and while Connor took Arthur with him down +to the shore, Maxwell drove back to Kincorth through +the night alone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>That seemed to be his doom—alone—alone for +ever—in adversity as in prosperity—at the end as +in the beginning. But in the beginning solitude had +not seemed terrible as it did towards the end; and that +fact made all the difference.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Through that desolate wilderness he drove back, +as I have said, alone; past great stretches of country, +across which the wind went howling and howling as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>though, with shrieks and laughter, the storm were +running races over the flat tracts of moorland. For a +little distance the road wound along by the side of +Durrow River, where the chesnut had died taking her +leap so gallantly, and then great mountains hemmed +him in for a mile or so, when they swept grandly off +to right and left, leaving the traveller breathing space +once more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It is a grand country, this Connemara, but desolate +beyond all power of description; the ends of the world +seem to be reached when you are journeying through +it; and even when a person has no pressing care, no +special cause for unhappiness, when he is strong and +free from anxiety of mind, there is a weirdness and a +solemnity about a night-ride through his part of that +land of the Wild West which must be felt to be comprehended.</p> + +<p class='c012'>What, then, must that solitary drive have proved +to Maxwell Drewitt, whose strength was turned into +weakness, whose powers of endurance were not equal +to such an undertaking—who, racked with mental +and bodily pain, prostrated by physical suffering, +fancied, now that the mountains were advancing towards +him—now that the road was slipping away—now +that the air was full of strange sounds—and +again that through the valleys and up the defiles were +coming hundreds and hundreds of armed men seeking +after his son?</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was fortunate that the roan knew his way to his +stable, knew every turn in the road, every point of +danger, every awkward curve, the position almost of +every block of granite, or else Maxwell could scarcely +have guided him home.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>As it was, between two and three o’clock in the +morning, when the wind was a little lulled, and the +rain coming down in torrents, the unhappy man +reached Kincorth, and lifting his eyes instinctively to +the windows, saw no light in them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You must be just drowned, sir,” said Dickson, as +he helped him off the car and took the reins out of +his trembling hand and assisted him into the house; +“I have a good fire in your own room, sir, and you +had better get off your wet things and go straight +away to bed.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Who is that, Dickson, who is that?” Maxwell +whispered, seeing that a man had taken the horse’s +head and was leading him round towards the stables. +“There was no light burning—who is it?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No one, sir, but Mr. Brian Drewitt, who came in +not ten minutes after you left. He said he would put +up the roan, and set everything right for the morning, so +that I could stay with you. He seems dreadfully +downhearted, and he hasn’t put bite nor sup in his +lips since he entered the doors.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Go to him, Dickson, and tell him not to lay a +finger on any horse of mine; tell him that he shall not +stay in my house, nor meddle in my concerns. It is +owing to him that my son is a fugitive this night, +without a place to lay his head in. He has come to +gloat over me, to exult in my defeat; but he shall not +stay here; he shall not, by——!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very unceremoniously, Dickson marched his master +off to bed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t think, sir,” he answered, “that you rightly +know what you are talking about. I never saw a +young gentleman seem in less notion of exulting, as +<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>you call it, than that same Mr. Brian was to-night; +and I am certain sure if Mr. Arthur had been his own +brother he could not have appeared more cut up than +he was. When you’re warm in your bed, just see him, +and hear what he has got to say; and if you don’t +think then he means fair, why tell me to put him out, +and if I don’t do it my name is not Michael Dickson. +And sure, is not he making himself of use at this +very minute, washing the car and rubbing down the +horse, and doing a stable-boy’s work, only better than +any stable-boy ever did it? I know what Mr. Brian +can do. Many a time when I used to be coming up +here, I saw him at work just like a labourer. Let +him stay, sir, let him stay; we’ll want him yet.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was he gave the information,” muttered Maxwell.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“So he told me; and he told me why he did it, +and how sorry he had been since. He talked to me +for an hour in the dining-room there—for an hour +at the least. And he spoke about his mother, and +Mr. Harold, so that it would have melted the heart of +a stone.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>With a shudder, Maxwell Drewitt turned his head +away, and laid it on the furthermost pillow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Let him come,” he said, faintly; “it may be that +we have cross accounts to settle; let him come;” and +Brian came accordingly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Maxwell,” he began, “I am here to help you, if +I can. I am here to make what poor reparation is in +my power. There was a time,” he went on, “when I +swore I never would re-enter your doors at peace with +you: over my dead mother’s body, I renewed that +oath; and I swore then that if ever I had a chance of +<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>vengeance offered me, I would avail myself of that +chance to the uttermost. Maxwell, I have recalled +those oaths. I would undo that which I have done if +I could. I want to help you, if in my power. Had I +known who Arthur’s mother really was, I would have +cut out my tongue before bringing sorrow upon her. +Do you believe me, Maxwell? I never spoke falsely +to you in my life; and you may believe it is the truth +I am telling you now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There ensued a long silence, broken only by the +sick man’s sobs. “I am so ill,” he said, “I am so +weak—Brian, I thank you—I will take your offer, +I will trust you. If you will, there shall be peace between +us at last. Do you forgive me?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You are pressing me hard, Maxwell,” answered +the other. “Hearing what I hear, guessing what I +guess; with my dear ones where no reparation can be +made to them, I cannot say I forgive. But I may +try to forgive; will that content you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you will stay with me, Brian, you will stay. +I am so sick, and I am so lonely. It was a fall off +the chesnut did it; but I suppose you heard all about +that?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, poor Madcap!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was not her fault, it was that fool of a Crabbe—it +has made wild work with me, Brian, has not +it? I shall never be a man again while I live—never!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>While he lived. Brian, keeping watch by the sick +man’s bedside, knew that his existence could not be +prolonged much longer, and looking at that poor wreck +of mortality—at that old worn man—he found it +hard to identify him with the Maxwell he had last +<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>seen standing just within the hall door of that house +in which he was at length master.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Then he had been handsome, strong, resolute; now +he was a stricken and hesitating creature, dying by +inches, while there was not a human being related to +him, by any close ties of blood, to take his hand and +bid him be of good cheer, as he glided onward to +that valley where is the blackness of the shadow of +death.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XX.<br> <span class='c006'>Brian’s Repentance.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Before many days Mr. Pryor appeared at Durrow, +anxious to know what had become of Arthur, and how +Brian and his cousin were settling their old scores.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Arthur, Mr. Connor informed him the lad +was still lying concealed in one of the caves in Durrow +cliff—“the secretest of all their hiding-places, Skerritt +informs me,” he proceeded—“a cave that no gauger +or coast-guardsman could find out unless he were the +devil.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then as I never heard of the devil taking the +form of an exciseman, and going about the country +looking after private stills and cargoes of smuggled +goods, I suppose we may conclude there is every +chance of the young gentleman getting off safe.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He’ll get off right enough, the first time the +schooner comes round this way again. The reward +Mr. Drewitt has offered ought to put the men on their +mettle—not, to do them justice, that they need such +an inducement—it’s enough for them to know that +a man is flying from the constituted authorities, and +they will strain every nerve to assist him to escape.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That characteristic of your country-people it is +which makes Ireland so much pleasanter a residence +for rogues than for honest men,” remarked Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Ah, well, sir; sure you see by this that even very +respectable fathers may have sons in trouble.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>“I hope you do not call Mr. Drewitt a respectable +father, because, in my opinion, he is nothing of the +kind,” answered Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is fond of the boy, at any rate,” said Connor, +simply; and his thoughts flew back to that night when +through the storm Maxwell drove his son over to +Durrow, and had stood silent while Arthur wept tears +of penitence upon his neck.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He’ll never get the better of it, Mr. Brian tells +me,” went on the agent, pursuing his own train of +reflection. “He was wet to the skin, and has not +been able to be out of bed since. Well, let him have +been what he will, Mr. Pryor, you would be sorry for +him if you were to see him now—just a shadow of +himself, and with the grey hairs more plentiful than +the black, and crow’s feet about his eyes, and a drop +of the mouth, and a twitching of the face that you +would wonder what ailed him.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think I’ll go over and see him,” observed Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Indeed, sir, and I just would,” agreed Connor; +“maybe the day’s not so very far off when you’ll be +glad to remember you did it.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do you mean, Connor, you really think he is +going to die so soon as all that comes to?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Think, sir! I am sure I believe in my heart he’ll +never rise from his bed again; that he did his last +piece of work in this world, the night he came over +here with Mr. Arthur. I did all I could to get him to +stop, and so did my wife, too; but he was so mortally +afraid of any of the Duranmore people guessing where +his son was hid away, that nothing would serve him +but round with the horse’s head and back to Kincorth, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>though the wind was coming down from among those +hills, and blowing off the Atlantic, fit to tear the house +down. And then it began pelting with rain. I don’t +know how he ever got home, and him in the state of +health he was—I do not.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Next morning Mr. Pryor walked over the hills to +Kincorth, to pay his visit to Maxwell Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He will see you if you come upstairs,” Brian said, +in answer to the Englishman’s inquiries; “but I must +warn you that he is very ill—dangerously ill, in my +opinion. I have thought it right to tell Lady Emmeline +what I believe about him; and it is very probable +she may be here to-morrow afternoon.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you glad you came, Brian?” asked Mr. +Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I would not have come for all the property +Maxwell owns;” and Brian, who was head nurse in +the sick-room, led his friend gently to the darkened +chamber, which Maxwell was never again to leave till +he was carried out in his coffin.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You were right about me, Mr. Pryor,” said Maxwell. +“I was not an honest man; and I did not come +into Kincorth fairly; but Brian shall get it back again +when I am gone; and I hope he will have more enjoyment +of it than ever I had.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I trust,” answered Mr. Pryor, “you will live for +many a long year to keep him out of it. Brian will +be better and happier working for his living in London +than he ever could be dawdling about Kincorth.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>He spoke these words cheerfully and heartily, but +Maxwell shook his head.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My race is run,” he said, “my day almost finished; +and if I could but once know the boy was safe, I am +<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>so tired that I think I would lay my head down and +never raise it again.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You will think differently when once he is clear +off,” answered Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Shall I?” and Maxwell’s hand strayed idly and +listlessly over the coverlet, picking bits of cotton out +of it while he spoke.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Why of course you will; anxiety is the chief thing +that is the matter with you now.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is it?” and the poor wasted fingers still kept +picking, picking.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t know what I should have done without +him,” he said, after a short pause, turning his eyes +towards Brian. “I could not have lived so long had +I been alone. He has been gentler to me than any +woman I ever had about me; and when I look at him +I think of his mother, and believe she has forgiven +me——”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You can clear that matter up, about Harold,” +suggested Mr. Pryor.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, when I am gone, and when Arthur is off, +you will find a parcel and letter in that safe over +there. You can make what use you like of both; of +course they would not take any proceedings at this +distance of time, but you will settle that with them, +won’t you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And I mean to settle that you shall not talk any +more at present, and that if Mr. Pryor comes here to +discuss unpleasant topics he must be forbidden the +house,” broke in Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will you come to my house, then, to-morrow, to +dinner?” asked Mr. Pryor; and Brian promised that if +his patient were no worse, he would; having received +<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>which assurance, Mr. Pryor walked back over the hills +as he had come, and noticed as he walked a wicked-looking +little schooner tacking and tacking between +Duranmore Point and Durrow. “That is our friend,” +he thought, “and twenty-four hours more will see Arthur +out of the country.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, sir, that’s her,” remarked Skerritt with a +knowing wink. “She is only making believe tacking +about there; she is really bound for Mayo, and then +she will be back here about this time to-morrow. We +have sent word to the captain, and it will be all correct.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Pryor was truly rejoiced to hear it, and said +so. It was wretched to think of that lad lying in the +cave night after night while he slept comfortably in +a good house close at hand; and his sympathy was +strongly excited for the unhappy father, whose first +question when he awoke in the mornings was always, +“Has Arthur got off yet?” and whose last sigh at +night sounded like a moan for the son who had made +such grievous shipwreck of his life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You will bring me back a report of how things +are going on, Brian,” he said as his cousin was leaving +for Durrow; “a true report, remember,—promise me +that;” and Brian promised ere he departed.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a lovely afternoon in the early part of +October; the trees about Kincorth were getting very +bare of foliage, but there were still enough <a id='t270'></a>leaves +left to make the woods look very beautiful in their +autumnal deckings of brown and orange and gold. +The sky was clear and bright, and though there was +a stiff breeze blowing, Brian after long watching in +his cousin’s sick room found the wind only make his +walk the pleasanter.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>He did not feel in bad spirits as he climbed the +hill and pursued the short cut towards Durrow; rather, +on the contrary, his heart was lighter than it had been +for many a day past, for he began to be certain Arthur +would effect his escape safely, and he knew if the +youth were once landed in France that a load of +anxiety would be lifted from his shoulders, a burden +of self-reproach taken off his soul.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a delicious afternoon; there was just that +feeling of chilliness in the air which is pleasant when +a man who can walk fast has likewise to walk far; +and Brian hurried over the ground feeling that there +are some days in the year when living is a pleasure, +and that this was one of them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But yet, as he drew near Durrow, he fancied he +saw on the side of the hill, looking seaward, something +which alarmed him—a man with a telescope. +Brian immediately charged down the incline, and came +upon a commonplace-looking individual apparently engaged +in digging up bait.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It seemed a strange place to select for such a purpose; +but of course the man had a right to choose an +inconvenient position if he chose, and Brian remained +talking with him for a few minutes while he looked +about to see if he could discover any trace of the +telescope or discover what part of Durrow was best +commanded from the spot.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The whole of Durrow village was concealed by +Durrow cliff, and there was nothing to be discerned +except the south side of the principal rock, which rose +sheer out of the sea which now washed its base.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Any trace of the telescope he failed to detect, +<span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>though he could have sworn he saw the brass tube +glitter for a moment in the afternoon sun.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He was there, was he, the divil!” remarked +Skerritt, whom Brian at once informed of the circumstance. +“I wish I had caught him at his spying. +You’re not sure he was spying, arn’t ye? Well, I am, +and that’s enough. Digging earth-worms, too, for a +make-believe! Pity he wasn’t feedin’ them, that’s all +I have got to say.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will it hinder Arthur getting away?” asked Brian, +anxiously.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Will it hinder the say comin’ in to-morrow morning?” +inquired Mr. Skerritt, which, being decidedly an +unlikely result, Brian took heart again.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you going out fishing to-night, Skerritt?” inquired +Brian, noticing that the man was preparing his +nets and getting his boat ready for sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I go out fishing most nights,” was the answer; +“and now, sir, if you are as tired of asking questions +as I am of answerin’ them, I wish ye just would go +up till the house, and stay in your proper place, which +is up there with the quality,<a id='r2'></a><a href='#f2' class='c015'><sup>[2]</sup></a> instead of down here +with me.”</p> + +<div class='footnote' id='f2'> +<p class='c012'><a href='#r2'>2</a>. Gentlefolks.</p> +</div> + +<p class='c012'>“Your best friends can’t say much for your civility, +Skerritt,” remarked Brian as he moved away.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If I am not very civil I am very wise,” was the +significant answer; and Brian departed on the instant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish to-night was over—and well over,” said +Mr. Pryor, as they stood together on the lawn, while +the afternoon light faded away, and the twilight +deepened, and the darkness drew on.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>“And so do I. Have you any notion at what hour +they mean to make their venture?” returned Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not the least. Skerritt would give me no information +on the subject, and I have not seen a sign of the +schooner to-day. The first intelligence I expect to +hear is that he is off safe and sound, and half-way to +France.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Heaven grant it!” Brian replied.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The words were scarcely out of his lips before there +arose such a shout from the shore, as made Mr. Pryor +and Brian exclaim, at the same moment—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is something wrong: let us go down;” and +they ran round to the shelving side of the cliff, and +hurried down the path leading to the sea.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“They have found the cave,” explained Skerritt; +“and they are all here, police, and gaugers, and +soldiers, and all.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And where is Arthur?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You’ll see in a minit,” was the reply. “Now +Patsey, my man. Run down for your life, Mr. Arthur, +and out into the sea!” he cried in a voice like thunder, +and, at the same instant, there flared out from the +shore a flame of light that just flashed across the waters +and then was extinguished.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Quick as thought, another light glanced out from +the little schooner, which had been quietly stealing +round a line of rocks that stretched far away into the +ocean; and, next moment, while his eyes were still +dazzled by the sudden glare, Brian heard the plash of oars, and knew that Arthur was safe in the boat +and making for the vessel that alone could ever bear +him to freedom.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Hoarsely the command for the boat to stop rung +<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>out through the night, and, as a mocking laugh came +back across the waters, the corporal gave the order +to fire.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Three balls went instantly whizzing over the sea; +and then there was a shriek such as Brian never had +heard in all his life before—the shriek of a strong +man in his death agony.</p> + +<p class='c012'>But the boat went on.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Fire!” was again the command, and again the +balls sought their mark: no shriek followed this discharge, +and, for a minute or two, the corporal seemed +to think his men must have made some mistake, but +it was only for a moment.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The next, cries for help were borne by the wind to +the shore, and there were frantic entreaties among +the women that a boat might be launched on the +instant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Lord help you, mother,” said Skerritt’s son; “don’t +you remember every boat was sent to Duranmore, that +they might not be able to get the advantage over us +that way? but then if he is not hit he can swim. +There it is again! That’s not my father’s shout, it is +the young fellow’s, and the boat is settling.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>The boat was settling. Every one of the balls, except +that which struck Skerritt, had gone through her +side. There can be no doubt but that the men must +have happened to fire as she rose on the waves; and +now, with their hands loosely holding their muskets, +they stood listening to the screams of the drowning +men.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I can’t bear this,” cried Brian; “I must do something;” +and he made a rush towards the sea, but half +a dozen people were before him in an instant, and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>kept him back from his design. “Have you not got a +boat?” he gasped.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Not one. Do you think if we had, it’s myself +would be talking to you now, and my own father and +brother out there in the middle of it all?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How many were there altogether?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Just three; and, out of the three, there were two +of us.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“God pity you,” said Brian, as he sat down on the +shore. “And God pity me, too,” he added to himself, +“for this is my doing.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was silence on the sea—silence only broken +by the whistling of the wind—by the plashing of the +waves against the rocks.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Each moment it was growing darker and darker, +and though the people under the cliffs were running +hither and thither with lighted torches in their hands, +still nothing could be seen of the tragedy that had just +been enacted.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Sullenly the sea came rolling up on the shore—sullenly +it swept along, wave succeeding to wave, and +billow to billow: though they strained their eyes out +into the night they could see nothing but a waste of +water, but an eternity of ocean.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Till morning dawned they would not be able to distinguish +any object, and when morning dawned where +would be the objects they desired to see?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’ll go and get a boat some place or other,” +whispered young Skerritt to his mother, “and I’ll row +round the rocks; may be one of them may have drifted +that way with one of the oars.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a forlorn hope; but perhaps in the future it +<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>comforted that widow and her son to know everything +which could be done, had been done.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was no one near the rocks, no one had +reached the schooner; but a week afterwards Skerritt’s +body was washed ashore near Clew Head, while Arthur’s +drifted into a little bay about five miles north +of Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It was better than being caught,” Mr. Pryor ventured +to say at length to Brian; “but I am grieved +about Skerritt.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And it is all my doing,” Brian moaned out; “I +shall feel now like a murderer to the end of my +days.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>For hours Brian sat repeating this one sentence, +and it was not until Mr. Pryor reminded him Maxwell +would be expecting tidings, that he could rouse him +from his fit of despairing remorse.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think I had better go round with you and break +the news to him,” said the barrister.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, I will do it—I—and I only,” answered +Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“But it will be so dreadful a task for you.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Only part of my punishment,” he said, with a +sort of gloomy satisfaction; “and I was so happy to-day, +and I made so certain he would get off.” And as +he thought of that, he sat down and covered his face +with his hands once more.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Brian,” said Mr. Pryor, “some one must go to +Kincorth and break this news to Maxwell; if you do +not go, I will; for otherwise he will hear it suddenly, +and in his state of health a shock of the kind might +prove fatal.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Come with me then!” exclaimed Brian, “I have +<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>not courage to go alone.” And accordingly they drove +round to Kincorth by the same road as that Maxwell +Drewitt had followed when he took his son to Durrow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was late when they reached Kincorth, but the +sick man was still awake, and anxiously expecting +Brian’s return.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He knew, the moment he saw his cousin and Mr. +Pryor enter the room together, that some misfortune +had happened.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You bring me bad tidings,” he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have no good news,” Brian answered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“He is taken?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, he is not taken; he has escaped that fate.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What do you mean?—if he is not taken, he +must have escaped; or has he not got off yet? Will +neither of you speak?—there, you need not tell me, +I know the worst—he’s dead.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian knelt down by the bedside and buried his +face in the coverlet. Mr. Pryor took one of the wasted +hands in his, and drawing a chair close up to Maxwell’s +pillow, told him how his boy had been drowned, how +the very efforts they had made to secure his escape +had caused his destruction.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Very quietly Maxwell listened to him; through the +night he talked of nothing else, but still Brian knelt +by the bedside with his face hidden in the coverlet +praying in a very agony of supplication to the Lord +Most High.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was vengeance! this was what he had longed +for, waited for; this was the end of all his oaths, of +all his hate, ay, and of all his love—a terrible memory +which should abide with him to the end—a +gnawing remorse which, though its teeth might get less +<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>sharp in time, was yet certain never quite to loosen its +hold upon him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was vengeance: he would have given his life +to be able to live the past year over again with his +present experience, retaining his present feelings. Oh, +for power to wipe the sin he had committed off his +conscience, to bring that boy to life again, to restore +even comparative health to his cousin!</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was vengeance—to pass through such agony +as he had never felt before, to wrestle with his anguish, +to have to rise up and face his misery, to hear Maxwell’s +voice saying faintly, “Do not vex yourself about +it, Brian; I am content that it should be so.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>This was vengeance. Like him who, in the olden +days, drew a bow at a venture and slew the king of +Israel, so Brian had drawn his bow at a venture, and +this was the ruin his arrow had wrought.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Still the waves rolled on and the sea mourned upon +the shore; still the wind blew keen over the ocean, and +the billows tossed and lamented, and the deeps called +out to one another through the night; still in the darkness +the great mountains stood proudly aloof; still Mr. +Pryor talked while the thin fingers picked the cotton +more restlessly out of the coverlet, for the end was +very nigh at hand, and Maxwell Drewitt was soon +about to pass into that unknown land which is so +“very far off.”</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXI.<br> <span class='c006'>Sickness onto Death.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Lady Emmeline arrived from London on the day +following that on which the tragedy recorded in the last +chapter was acted out, and with her came Mrs. Ellenham, +who repaired, on hearing of her brother’s illness, +by command of her husband, to the Euston Square +railway station, where she proceeded <em>viâ</em> Holyhead and +Kingstown to Galway.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She had never been in Ireland from the day of her +elopement, until she travelled back thither to see her +brother on his death-bed, and she would not have gone +then, only the law of Colonel Ellenham was as that of +the Medes and Persians, and if he said, “go”—which +he did in hopes of a bequest—there was no alternative +but to pack up and depart.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Poor Lady Emmeline was inexpressibly shocked +at sight of her husband. All the love she had once +felt for him woke to live again in a moment, and she +wept as genuine tears as she had ever shed in her life +when he put up his white lips to kiss her.</p> + +<p class='c012'>They had lived latterly like cat and dog, but yet +she once loved him, and she loved him now again when +he lay dying, thinking, thinking not of her, but of many +a more attractive woman and most of all of Jenny +Bourke, whom he could see standing by the stream at +the back of her brother’s cottage in all the beauty of +her young loveliness, so innocent, so pure, so tender, +and so true.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>As for Susan, her brother saw her, but that was +about all he would do. From others she heard the +story of his unhappy son; from others she learned how +her husband was mixed up in the matter.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I would go back to London at once,” she said to +Mr. Pryor, “if I were not afraid.” And accordingly, +as she was afraid, she remained at Kincorth, keeping +as much out of the way as possible, and generally conducting +herself after a fashion as unlike all the fashions +of Susan Drewitt as can well be imagined.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Matrimony, or perhaps the absence of matrimony +for so many years, had tamed her effectually, and so +she roamed about the place and looked at the improvements, +and wondered if Brian would get Kincorth back +again, and wrote long explanatory letters to her husband, +and was considered a very quiet kind of lady +by the servants.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Brian, he never left the sick man by day +nor by night; and when the end drew very near, when +every one saw that the sickness could never be cured, +the disease never mastered; when it became a question +not of weeks but of hours, Maxwell could not bear his +cousin to leave him for an instant.</p> + +<p class='c012'>They had been at deadly feud once, but they were +united now; they had been bitter enemies, but they +were now fast friends; and it was Brian, who, when the +last moments came, wiped the damp dews off Maxwell’s +face, and held his hand while he passed through the +portals of death.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Thus he departed. Many a time since, Brian +Drewitt has recalled that scene.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was noon—noon on a dull, damp November +day.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>The sick man had been lying all the morning thinking, +thinking, and at last he began to talk.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What’s that you are saying?” he broke out—and +Brian knew from his tone that he was wandering—“That +I made nothing? Give me those maps—reach +me those plans;” and then he went on muttering +some words which Brian could not catch. “There +is The Headlands,” he said, in a louder key, “and +Cherryfield, and the Calgillan estates. Isn’t it getting +very dark, eh? What’s that? Are you there, Brian? +Have I been asleep?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I don’t know. Do you feel tired?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No; but it is time I was getting to sleep—these +winter nights are very dark. Ring for lights, Brian, +I cannot bear this gloom.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian knew then what was coming, and rose and +put his strong arms about his cousin, and lifted him +up a little.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Can you see any better now?” he said.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No; it is all darkness, all; Brian, is it night or +day? Is it light to you?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is day, Maxwell, though a very dull day, and +I can see well enough.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Then this is death,” he said; and he stood at +last face to face with the foe he had dreaded all his +life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was an utter silence for a moment, during +which Maxwell appeared to be solving some problem +in his mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Over and over he appeared to be turning the question, +while his dim eyes moved restlessly about, as +though striving to catch some gleam, however feeble, +of light.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>“It grows darker,” he said, at last, and the cold +dew of death was on his forehead.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It grows darker—don’t leave me, Brian.” But +Brian had no thought of leaving him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He had lived without God, but he should not die +without man—that was the idea which passed swiftly +through his cousin’s mind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Do not let me go,” he murmured; and the hand +which Brian held tight in his, grew cold as marble.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think I have made a great mistake,”—he +spoke these words out so loudly, that Brian almost +started, and they were the last he ever uttered. The +problem was solved, the life-story finished, the purpose +accomplished, the end of all earthly things reached; +and with a sigh, Maxwell Drewitt, who had raised his +head a little, fell back dead on his pillow.</p> + +<p class='c012'>That was the end.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He laboured and planted, he sowed and reaped, he +got him great possessions, he amassed wealth in abundance, +he accomplished what he said he would; he +made the howling wilderness a smiling plain; he found +Headlands a wretched piece of barren land, and he +left it an Eden. Whatsoever his hand found to do, +that he performed; whatsoever his mind planned, that +he executed; and yet when he spoke the last words of +his life—when he summed up the whole story of his +endeavours and his successes—it proved to have been +all “a great mistake.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Pitiful! most pitiful! In his prime this man was +taken away from among his treasures—from the place +he had longed to possess—from the country of his +birth—from the scenes he had loved to gaze over. +What did it matter, then, whether he had been rich or +<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>poor, wealthy or indigent, lofty or lowly, peer or +peasant?—what did it matter? what even in life had +the lands and the houses, had the silver and the gold, +profited him?</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think I have made a great mistake.” Was that +sentence spoken in time or in eternity? Was it uttered +as his last farewell to earth, or when he had passed +into the land of shadows? His soul was on the threshold +of both worlds at the moment—to which world was +the truth addressed? Was it spoken with the gloom he +had complained of settling down upon him, or with +light ineffable flooding the secrets of our humanity, and +making all those things plain which here we see but +as through a glass darkly?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Draw down the blinds, and tread lightly across the +room, wherein there is no life left, but only the body +which once held a soul.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Maxwell Drewitt has passed into that dim land +which he so dreaded to face. He has gone away, and +left his work to be taken up by another after him.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Never more may he walk by the sea shore, or stand +under the arching trees that shade the avenue, or ride +by lake and river, past mountains and through the +valleys—never more for ever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>His works remain after him, but he himself is departed +into that silent land where no echoes of the +waves of time can reach the ears of the sleepers.</p> + +<p class='c012'>With great pomp and ceremony, with grandeur befitting +his wealth and his influence, and the height to +which he had climbed, they bore him to Eversbeg Abbey, +and laid him down to rest.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There, so near to where he made his first start in +life, he sleeps well—free from ambitious hopes, from +<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>regretful longings. From all dreads, from all alarms, +he is delivered at last. The unquiet heart is still, the +busy mind hushed into repose. The summer’s sun +comes each year and falls warm and bright on the +graves in Eversbeg; but the summer’s sun cannot +quicken the cold body into life.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The great mountains rear their blue summits to +heaven, the lakes ripple and ripple, the rivers flow onward +to the sea, and the boulders and the blocks of +granite lie scattered about on the hill sides—the +great Atlantic beats against the iron-bound coast, and +up the thousand bays the waves steal gently as ever—on +that strange country through which Maxwell +rode when he was still young, when he had life all +before him, the moon looks down with as cold a light, +playing as many fantastic tricks, creeping up the hills, +and lying in the waters just as she did then.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And in the dancing sunlight Kincorth is beautiful +as of old; but the man who coveted Kincorth,—who +vowed to have it, who declared before God that neither +woman nor devil should keep it from him,—where +is he?</p> + +<p class='c012'>Lying with the rest of his kindred amid the ruins +of Eversbeg, slumbering with the ivy trailing over his +tomb, with the birds chattering all the day long above +his head, dreamlessly, until the hour comes when he +shall have to give an account of that life concerning +which he said—he had made a great mistake.</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_285'>285</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER XXII.<br> <span class='c006'>Brighter Days.</span></h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>When Maxwell Drewitt’s will came to be read, it +was discovered that he had left everything which he +possessed to his son; but, as Arthur died before Maxwell, +this will became of none effect, and Brian, the +heir-at-law, succeeded to the properties.</p> + +<p class='c012'>And what properties they were! There had never +been a Drewitt so rich for many a long day—never +been a Drewitt without mortgages—without debt—without +incumbrances, until Maxwell made his fortune, +as I have told you, and left it for Brian to enjoy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Amongst the dead man’s papers were found the +notes which had been stolen from Mr. Kearns; and +these were delivered to the Dundalk and Drogheda +Banking Company, in precisely the same state as that +in which they were discovered.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whatever could be done to clear Harold’s memory +from the stain that had lain on it, was done: there +were paragraphs inserted in the newspapers; there were +statements read in court; there were communications +made to friends. Mr. Blosse was induced to open his +mouth; and every one agreed that Harold had been +shamefully treated; but that the whole proceeding was +“just on a piece” with the rest of Mr. Maxwell Drewitt’s +performances.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is no chance now, old fellow, I suppose, of +your coming into partnership with me,” said Mr. Francis +<span class='pageno' id='Page_286'>286</span>Gyton, when he and Brian met once more at Highgate. +“Like all the rest of your countrymen, you will +begin to turn up your nose at business—cut the +money-making establishment altogether, and take to +doing the idle and patriarchal.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I’ll tell you what I have a great mind to do,” +answered Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Listen attentively, Geraldine,” said Mr. Gyton. +“Crœsus has a great mind to do something; perhaps it +may be something for our benefit.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, it is not,” Brian replied. “I have a very +great mind to sell all those Irish properties, and go +abroad.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Bless my soul!” exclaimed his brother-in-law +elect.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hate the places!” went on Brian; “I hate the +associations! I hate the country—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And you hate the people! That is right, go it, +my boy!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I wish, Frank, that you would not interrupt me +so continually,” said Brian Drewitt, a little irritably. +“There is no human being but myself,” he proceeded, +“can understand the misery I have endured in Ireland—nor +the wretched memories it recalls! If I retain +the properties I shall never reside in Connemara.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“You need not offer any of them to me, if that is +your benevolent intention,” said Mr. Gyton, hastily; +“for I would not be hired to live in Ireland at a salary +of ten thousand a year! It is all very well when the +weather is fine—and it is all very well when you +don’t want much society; but it is the devil when it +rains! and when one is shut up in the house all day—with +a fine sea-view and the toothache! London +<span class='pageno' id='Page_287'>287</span>for me!” finished Mr. Gyton. “I am of London, Londony; +I am of the streets, streety. I detest high +tragedy; and your prodigious funerals; and your +outrageous grief; and your excessive sensibilities; and +your despairing remorse; and your eternal hatreds; and +your desperate revenges, seem to me quite out of place +in the civilized nineteenth century!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“The end, and aim, and object of which civilized +nineteenth century is to destroy all hatred, as it has +destroyed all love!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, now, that is really too bad; what do you +know about love, sir?—you who have, ever since I +had the honour of making your acquaintance, been so +occupied with a kind of Hibernian Vendetta, that you +have had no leisure even to look at a pretty girl, let +alone fall in love with her.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I was not talking about love of that sort, Frank,” +answered Brian; “but about all descriptions of love—love +of friends, parents, children, sisters, brothers.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“If you have any compassion, Brian, do stop,” +entreated Mr. Gyton; “do not treat me to a long dissertation +on vehement attachments, or never-to-be-forgotten +griefs. Allow me to remark that, had you +been born in any other country than in Ireland, you +would have been a much more agreeable individual +than is the case.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Now, Francis,” interposed Geraldine.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“My sweet child, I am only speaking the truth. +Had your brother stood in my shoes, he would either +have been sent to Oxford or put to business about the +time he began nourishing those romantic ideas on the +subject of Kincorth, which ideas have, fortunately for +him, been realised. Hem!—where was I?—oh! +<span class='pageno' id='Page_288'>288</span>yes, at Oxford or the desk. There are two things in +this world which leave a man very little time for +developing his eccentricities, viz., business and pleasure. +In a country where you have neither, as in Ireland, it +follows naturally—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Excuse me interrupting you,” observed Brian, +“but Ireland is usually considered to be a very pleasure-seeking +country.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Is it really? where do the poor devils go to seek +for it? Precious far afield I should say. It struck me +as being one of the most melancholy corners of the +earth that ever I set my foot in.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yet I suppose you will allow that there is a small +portion of wit in Ireland?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There may be; I never heard any Irish wit excepting +in England.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Probably that was not the fault of the Irish,” +answered Brian, with a slight sneer.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Thank you for the implied compliment. What I +meant to say when you tripped me up so short was, +that one hears a certain number of stock anecdotes on +this side the channel which spoil one for ordinary Irish +conversation. Every Dublin car-driver is not a wit; +on the contrary, I have never heard a really clever +speech from one of them, nor am I acquainted with +any person who has. The manner is amusing, I admit; +but the matter will not bear inspection: all of which +brings me round to what I said at first. I would not +have to reside in Ireland—indeed I would not reside +in any place at a great distance from London for ten +thousand a year.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I certainly was not going to ask you to reside in +Ireland,” observed Brian.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_289'>289</span>“Then we need not fear any misunderstanding on +the subject,” remarked Mr. Gyton; “and you can proceed +with what you were about to say.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have said all I was about to say.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“No, you have not; you were going to tell us why +you thought of going abroad, where you intended +travelling to, and what you purposed doing when you +had reached your destination.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There is no use, Frank, in trying to talk seriously +to you. Everything seems to you to bear a comical +aspect. To hear you speak I am sure anybody might +think the world was a place only intended by the +Almighty for jibes and jeers, for the fool’s motley, for +the cap and bells.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“After all, the fool’s bells make more lively music +than the passing bells; which appear to be what you +delight to listen to. In sober earnest though, Brian, I +do hate to see a man, a wise man, taking life after +your fashion. Is not there happiness in this world, is +not there sunshine, are not there women’s voices, are +not there flowers, and birds and bees and butterflies? +Do you think God ever intended we should let any +sorrow or any suffering so dim our eyes that we should +never again be able to look out on life with a sense of +enjoyment, with a thrill of pleasure? Talk to him, +Geraldine; tell him what a madman he is to dwell so +sorrowfully on the past, instead of taking pleasure in +the present. Brian,” he added, and for the first time +during their acquaintance there came a touch of passionate +entreaty into his voice, “Brian, my brother, for +God’s sake, put that unhappy boy out of your mind; +bury your dead, and leave their graves, and come and +<span class='pageno' id='Page_290'>290</span>stand out in the sunshine, so that you may make both +yourself and those belonging to you happy once more.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>With a gesture almost of despair, Brian lifted his +head, and looking over the great city which lay below +them, answered—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“It is too soon yet. You do not know, no man +can know, what my life has been, what I have suffered, +how I have sinned. You have never stood, as I have, +at one death-bed after another, where the life had been +either unhappy or wicked. Think of it, Frank: out of +your own brighter experience, judge what mine must +have been. Father, mother, brother, cousin, and cousin’s +son—all in five years. Those whom I wanted to +make happy, whom I would have laid down my life to +save from grief and trouble, are all gone where the +wealth that is now mine is unavailing. I never was +young; I never had a boy’s heart; I never was like +other men I met, gay and thoughtless and light-hearted. +I think you are right, Frank, after all, and +that I was wrong. I believe, had I been brought up +in England, I should have been a better man and a +happier than I am ever likely to be now. Like Maxwell, +I have made a great mistake.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, rectify it then,” answered Mr. Gyton. “It +is not too late; it is never too late while you have +breath in your body. I know what you were going to +say: you were going to make some remark about that +Arthur, whose death you have taken a fancy to charge +at your own door. There never was a better day’s +work done for that young gentleman than when he was +put so easily out of harm’s way.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What shocking things you do say, Frank!” remarked +Geraldine.</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_291'>291</span>“If being true makes things shocking, I have no +doubt they are so,” he replied; “but the fact is this. +Supposing he had escaped drowning, he would have +lived to be hung to a certainty. I am as positive of +that as I am that I am living. Those are just the kind +of youths who come as surely to the gallows, let them +start from what point they may, as that the sparks fly +upward. My uncle is of the same opinion; he thinks +that for the sake of all parties interested it was a great +blessing Mr. Arthur Campnell, or Bourke, or Drewitt, +or whatever his name might be, made his exit when he +did. Just fancy that boy in possession of those properties. +I ask you just to fancy it. He would have +more misery than we should ever be able to estimate. +Those notes! why you know the lad who could carry +a thing of that kind through coolly must have been the +making of a thorough scoundrel; and if it were only +for the suffering he caused Harold, he richly deserved +all he got.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That was the way I argued,” Brian groaned. +“Heaven, forgive me!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“There can be no worse article for every-day wear +than a delicate conscience like yours; which first thinks +it a duty to avenge the dead, and then turns round +and repents having inflicted punishment on the object +of its deadliest hatred. I think you were born a few +centuries too late, Brian. You would have been a +capital fellow for the sack-cloth and scourging days; +and in one respect I think those days were a vast deal +better than our own. Men then wore their sorrow out +of sight, and their penitence too; now they go about +with faces as long as my arm, making everybody they +<span class='pageno' id='Page_292'>292</span>meet miserable, because of some trifling sin that they +chance to have committed in years gone by.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That cap fits well, if it were made at random.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I did not make it for you,” answered Mr. Gyton, +colouring with vexation at his own stupidity; “and I +don’t want to say anything to vex you, only take my +advice. Come out of your shell—mix in the world—share +its pleasures—enjoy its sunshine—don’t +go moping about the Continent alone, and beyond all +things, don’t go shut yourself up in those old Irish +estates till you become a monomaniac. Look out for +a nice wife—marry—and forget. If you have done +wrong, you must try and do right for the future. If +you have made a mistake, thank God it is not on your +death-bed you have found it out; but with life, years +of it before you, I trust, to make a better thing of +than any Drewitt I ever heard of dreamt of attempting.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What are you sermonizing about, Frank?” asked +Mr. Pryor, who came at this moment into the room.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am preaching the doctrine of work and common +sense in the ears of a morbid sinner,” was the reply.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And is he converted?” inquired his uncle, with a +smile.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Give me time,” Brian answered, “give me time; +only, of one thing be sure—I will not sit down with +my hands folded and sorrow vainly. I will do my +best. I will not fly my duties. I will not attempt to +get rid of my responsibilities; and should it ever please +God to remove the weight that is lying on my heart, +I will become a laughing philosopher like you, Frank, +and find sunshine in the darkest places.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is right!” cried Mr. Gyton, clapping him on +<span class='pageno' id='Page_293'>293</span>the back; while Mr. Pryor went up to Brian and silently +took his hand.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Perhaps the barrister could better estimate the +length and breadth, and height and depth, of the agony +that Brian had passed through than any other man on +earth. He had traced the boy’s progress to manhood, +and seen how each year had brought its trial, each +day its necessity for self-command and self-forgetfulness.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He knew, who better? how long even a slight +wound takes to heal with some mental constitutions, +and he could not marvel at the effect all his trials had +produced on Brian Drewitt.</p> + +<p class='c012'>For himself, it was many a long day before he +could forget either that night-scene on the coast of the +wild West, or that darkened room to which the man +who had thought once no domain large enough for him, +was confined at last.</p> + +<p class='c012'>His life had been prosperous, but the end was so +unutterably sorrowful that it left an impression on Mr. +Pryor’s mind like the wail of a mournful melody, or +the sobbing of the wind among the pines at night.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Unmourned, unlamented, the man had passed to his +long home, without one to weep over him and say, +“Alas! my brother.”</p> + +<hr class=asterisks> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_294'>294</span>It was autumn in Connemara once again; the hills +were clad in their robes of purple heather, and the +country looked its loveliest, and there was a great +peace on land, on lake, on sea; while under the arching +trees a bridal party came forth from Kincorth; for the +daughter of the house was going to be married to the +man she had loved for so long.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As a matter of choice, and as a matter of convenience, +the bridegroom would certainly have preferred +that the wedding should be solemnized in London; but +it was a fancy of Brian’s that Frank Gyton should take +his sister from amongst her own people; that in the +place where she had been born she should be married; +that with much stately ceremony, with every festive +rejoicing, the son of the English merchant should mate +with the daughter of the Irish gentleman.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Brian would not have been a Drewitt had he not +been likewise proud, and it was more out of pride than +out of ostentation that he prepared so great a feast, +and bade so many guests to partake of it. Duranmore +had never seen such a wedding before; such strings of +carriages, such strewing of flowers, such passing under +wreaths and garlands, was unprecedented even in a +place where many a well-born bride had been wooed, +and won, and married.</p> + +<p class='c012'>It was a gay sight, and the hearts of the tenantry +rejoiced to see such a cavalcade leaving the gates of +Kincorth. Many a day it was since such a festival +had been held at the old home of the Drewitts; and it +seemed, as the people said, like the good old times +come back again when the bride, blushing and happy, +walked out of the church porch, leaning on her husband’s +arm, and passed through the people who had +<span class='pageno' id='Page_295'>295</span>known her from a child, receiving blessings and praises +as she went by.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Half the county was at the wedding, and there +were great folks from London staying at Durrow, and +the whole country side was alive with carriages and +servants, and spectators and guests.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Lady Emmeline graced the scene with her presence, +and presented the bride with some sweet verses of her +own composition, which she secretly hoped might be +read aloud at the breakfast.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was looking very old and very haggard, poor +lady, but she enjoyed that wedding immensely, and +told everybody how fond she had always been of +Geraldine, and how “many people had taken them for +mother and daughter when they were in London together.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Mr. Gyton was in great force; he was perfectly +stupendous in the way of waistcoat, and gold chain and +pocket-handkerchiefs. He drank champagne, and he +grew pathetic; he partook of all manner of good things, +and did such justice to the viands set before him that +Frank Gyton sent round a card to Brian Drewitt, on +which he had written, in pencil—</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I hope there is a clever doctor among the company—dread +apoplexy.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Altogether it was, as Mr. Gyton, junior, declared, +enormously jolly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I think that everybody should come to Ireland to +be married,” said one tremendous young swell, who +turned R into W in the most cruel and unintelligible +manner imaginable. “I think every body should come +to Ireland to be married, it is such fun.”</p> + +<p class='c012'><span class='pageno' id='Page_296'>296</span>“Yes, and the ten miles’ drive gives one such an +appetite,” remarked Mr. Gyton, senior.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And, Frank, what did you mean about the +climate?” asked his mother. “We have had three +days without a single drop of rain.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That is because it never rains single drops in +Ireland,” was the reply; “they always fall plenty at a +time.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Well, now, you know this is charming,” said one +City man. “If one could make certain of not being +shot, I think I should like to end my days here.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Did you ever see such a view?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“What a delicious house!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And how exquisitely furnished!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Don’t you wonder Mr. Drewitt has never married?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Hasn’t had the property long; was a clerk in Mr. +Gyton’s office in the City.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Dear me, how singular!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“And he proposed for her in her poverty?”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Yes, and takes her from here with a handsome +fortune, I am told.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“How romantic!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Virtue rewarded.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>And so the talk ran on, while the groom’s-man +implored one of the bridesmaids to tell him who that +wonderful piece of antiquity was, seated on the other +side of the table.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“That, sir,” said the young lady, demurely, “is my +cousin, Lady Emmeline Drewitt.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I am sure, I beg your pardon; really that is—”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“She is the widow of the late proprietor of Kincorth,” +proceeded Miss Vervensoe, who rather enjoyed +<span class='pageno' id='Page_297'>297</span>her companion’s confusion. “She is very wealthy, and +has been considered very handsome.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Really, now you speak of it—yes, to be sure, +bears traces of having been very beautiful.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I have never detected those traces myself,” said +the young Irish belle, “for it is little more than a tradition +with us. Mr. Pryor, however, declares he can +remember her a most graceful and fascinating woman +when he stood for Duranmore in 1832.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I had not the least idea Pryor was so old—1832 +carries us back into the remote ages of antiquity.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>“I suppose it does, to about the time the Pyramids +were built,” answered Miss Vervensoe, a little pertly. +She had some pretensions to talent, and indulged in +satirical poetry, and on her return home wrote some +very smart lines descriptive of the wedding-breakfast +generally, and of her conversational friend particularly.</p> + +<p class='c012'>“Are you coming to the ball to-night?” she asked.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Of course he was. Did not every one intend coming +to it, or rather staying for it, who had got an invitation? +“For his part,” and here the speaker became +slightly tender in his manner; “for his part, he +quite agreed with Mr. Sherwood and Mr. Gyton, that +everybody ought to come to Ireland to get married.”</p> + +<p class='c012'>Which observation Miss Vervensoe shrined in her +poem with an addendum of her own, to the effect that +she thought a good many people would have to bring +the wives with them.</p> + +<p class='c012'>On the whole, Miss Vervensoe was not a nice young +lady; not a young lady it would have been well for +Brian Drewitt to marry; though it was her mother’s +<span class='pageno' id='Page_298'>298</span>intention that he should marry her, if the thing were +compassable.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Lady Emmeline, also, was very desirous that her +sweetest “Anne” should become mistress of Kincorth; +and Mr. Dolf Vervensoe told his daughter that he +should think her a “damned deal cleverer even than +she thought herself, if she could bring Brian Drewitt +to book!”</p> + +<p class='c012'>But through that danger the young man passed +scatheless. He was not a person very easy to satisfy, +either in the matter of beauty or of anything else; and +accordingly, he waited, and waited, till, quite by +chance, as it seemed to them both, he met one day +with a bright, loveable, English country-girl, who had +been brought up very quietly in her father’s old-fashioned +parsonage-house—whence Brian Drewitt +took her to himself, without any fuss or ceremonial or +excitement whatsoever.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Geraldine always declared he took a fancy to the +girl because she resembled their mother; and Brian did +not contradict her assertion.</p> + +<p class='c012'>When the spring was shyly putting out its soft +green leaves—when the winter’s frosts were over, +and the winter’s snows gone—when the balmy south +wind began to blow, bringing flowers and buds on its +genial breath, Brian Drewitt took his young wife home +to Kincorth, which he has never talked of selling from +that hour.</p> + +<p class='c012'>She was his home-angel! his sweet, pretty, cheerful +treasure! and he told her so one day, when she began, +in her winning way, to coax him to tell her why he +ever married her—he, so rich! so grand! who might +have wooed and won some wonderful heiress—some +<span class='pageno' id='Page_299'>299</span>great beauty; and he added, also, a statement which +was true as Holy Writ—viz., that, when he first +looked in her face, he felt its expression comfort him +as nothing else had comforted him since that sad day +when he stood beside his mother’s coffin, and felt almost +as though his heart were broken!</p> + +<div class='chapter'> + <span class='pageno' id='Page_300'>300</span> + <h2 class='c005'>CONCLUSION.</h2> +</div> + +<p class='c011'>Thus they were all at rest at last—they who +had loved, and they who had hated; the years had +passed by, and brought peace with them—peace to +the dead—peace to the living.</p> + +<p class='c012'>As for Brian Drewitt, who is a good landlord and +a faithful steward, he can think over the past now +without anguish—without despair.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was once a time in his life when, had any +one foretold that into so quiet a haven his soul could +ever drift, he would have derided the idea, and scoffed +it to scorn; there was once a time when he lived but +for vengeance—once—but that was gone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Like a tale that was told—like a watch in the +night—like a storm which was spent, so the great +thirst for revenge had died out, and left, it might be, +a still greater grief, but a more holy feeling behind.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The draught he had once panted and sickened for—the +power to ruin Maxwell—to hurl him from his +pinnacle of worldly greatness into the very depths of +poverty—never slackened his feverish thirst, it is +true; but he had drained another goblet to the dregs, +and found at the bottom, bitterness—in its sweetness, +death.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Well, it was all over now; the desire, the sin, the +remorse—the fever which had once dried up his very +blood—which had burnt and consumed him—which +<span class='pageno' id='Page_301'>301</span>had eaten into his heart and torn at his vitals, had +subsided; and he now looked back at the days and the +years of his awful sickness as one might who, having +recovered from the frenzy of madness, tries to recall +the sensations, and the events and the phases, and the +once great leading passion of his lunacy.</p> + +<p class='c012'>So he looked back from a safe and sure haven at +last, over the waves of that troublous ocean where he +had waged so unequal a fight; where he had seen his +purest and best hopes shipwrecked; where he had +beheld <em>her</em> go down amongst the billows, never to rise +till eternity again; where he had struck out madly to +reach his enemy; where after years he stood by the +shore watching Maxwell sink lower and lower in the +flood, proclaiming with his last breath that life had not +been to him all happiness—that somewhere, or all +through, he had made a great mistake.</p> + +<p class='c012'>The storm had swept by, but it had left traces +behind it—such traces as, that wife, nor child, nor +friend, ever after saw Brian Drewitt laugh.</p> + +<p class='c012'>He said he was well and happy; and so he was; +but such passions as had dwelt in his breast are enemies +who never quit a man without leaving tracks of +sorrow and traces of sin, long deep scars and ugly +furrows behind them, that not even the soft caresses of +his loving wife, the sunshine of domestic happiness +could entirely heal.</p> + +<p class='c012'>There was a shade, even to that bright sunshine; +for long after his lips had ceased to pronounce her +name; when to mere casual observers the sore seemed +healed, the wound cicatrized; when children climbed +his knee, and young tongues called him father, and +tiny hands clutched his hair, and little essayists in the +<span class='pageno' id='Page_302'>302</span>sublime mystery of walking came toddling towards +him, forcing the grave, stern face to relax and smile—Brian +Drewitt was still weeping at heart for her +who had been his mother.</p> + +<p class='c012'>Whenever he visited London, he often took long +morning walks alone, and by his resolute persistency +in refusing her companionship his sister knew whither +he was gone.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In one direction he invariably turned his steps—to +that churchyard where, as I have said, the setting +sun casts its departing rays on the graves of the loved +and lost.</p> + +<p class='c012'>In that churchyard there is still one little piece of +ground kept bright and beautiful by the living, in remembrance +of the dead; and beside that grave Brian +Drewitt will stand motionless, with his arms folded and +his eyes fixed on the only inscription except her name +which the white marble bears: “Blessed are the pure +in heart, for they shall see God.”</p> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='small'>THE END.</span></div> + <div class='c003'>PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class='pbb'> + <hr class='pb c002'> +</div> + +<div class='chapter ph2'> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c001'> + <div><span class='c006'>December 1883.</span></div> + <div class='c002'>Tauchnitz Edition.</div> + </div> +</div> + +</div> + +<div class='nf-center-c0'> +<div class='nf-center c003'> + <div><span class='large'>Latest Volumes:</span></div> + </div> +</div> + + <ul class='ul_1'> + <li>A Chance Acquaintance. 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With Illustrations, 1 vol. + (<em>Series for the Young.</em>) + </li> + </ul> + +<p class='c012'>A complete Catalogue of the Tauchnitz +Edition is attached to this work.</p> + +<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> + +<table class='table0'> + <tr> + <th class='c007'>Page</th> + <th class='c007'>Changed from</th> + <th class='c017'>Changed to</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'><a href='#t132'>132</a></td> + <td class='c018'>He never seemed to have courage expect when he</td> + <td class='c019'>He never seemed to have courage except when he</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'><a href='#t202'>202</a></td> + <td class='c018'>increased, and very facility afforded him for pushing</td> + <td class='c019'>increased, and every facility afforded him for pushing</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class='c008'><a href='#t270'>270</a></td> + <td class='c018'>bare of foliage, but there were still enough leaver</td> + <td class='c019'>bare of foliage, but there were still enough leaves</td> + </tr> +</table> + + <ul class='ul_2'> + <li>Fixed typos; non-standard spelling and dialect retained. + </li> + </ul> + +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79387 ***</div> +</body> +<!-- created with ppgen.py 3.57i (with regex) on 2026-08-17 14:33:02 GMT --> +</html> diff --git a/79387-h/images/cover.jpg b/79387-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..64d7e32 --- /dev/null +++ b/79387-h/images/cover.jpg |
