Tales and Novels Volume VI Part 14

"Lord Killpatrick insisted upon my staying to help him to push about that never-ending, still-beginning electioneering bottle," said Lord Colambre.

"Oh! if that were all; if these gentlemen would only drink:--but their conversation!" "I don't wonder my mother dreads returning to Clonbrony Castle, if my father must have such company as this. But, surely, it cannot be necessary."

"Oh, indispensable! positively indispensable!" cried Lady Dashfort; "no living in Ireland without it. You know, in every country in the world, you must live with the people of the country, or be torn to pieces: for my part, I should prefer being torn to pieces."

Lady Dashfort and Lady Isabel knew how to take advantage of the contrast between their own conversation, and that of the persons by whom Lord Colambre was so justly disgusted: they happily relieved his fatigue with wit, satire, poetry, and sentiment; so that he every day became more exclusively fond of their company; for Lady Killpatrick and the Miss Killpatricks were mere commonplace people. In the mornings, he rode or walked with Lady Dashfort and Lady Isabel: Lady Dashfort, by way of fulfilling her promise of showing him the people, used frequently to take him into the cabins, and talk to their inhabitants. Lord and Lady Killpatrick, who had lived always for the fas.h.i.+onable world, had taken little pains to improve the condition of their tenants: the few attempts they had made were injudicious. They had built ornamented, picturesque cottages, within view of their park; and favourite followers of the family, people with half a century's habit of indolence and dirt, were _promoted_ to these fine dwellings.

The consequences were such as Lady Dashfort delighted to point out: every thing let to go to ruin for the want of a moment's care, or pulled to pieces for the sake of the most surrept.i.tious profit: the people most a.s.sisted always appearing proportionally wretched and discontented. No one could, with more ease and more knowledge of her ground, than Lady Dashfort, do the _dishonours_ of a country. In every cabin that she entered, by the first glance of her eye at the head, kerchiefed in no comely guise, or by the drawn-down corners of the mouth, or by the bit of a broken pipe, which in Ireland never characterizes _stout labour_, or by the first sound of the voice, the drawling accent on "your honour," or, "my lady," she could distinguish the proper objects of her charitable designs, that is to say, those of the old uneducated race, whom no one can help, because they will never help themselves. To these she constantly addressed herself, making them give, in all their despairing tones, a history of their complaints and grievances; then asking them questions, aptly contrived to expose their habits of self-contradiction, their servility and flattery one moment, and their litigious and encroaching spirit the next: thus giving Lord Colambre the most unfavourable idea of the disposition and character of the lower cla.s.s of the Irish people. Lady Isabel the while standing by, with the most amiable air of pity, with expressions of the finest moral sensibility, softening all her mother said, finding ever some excuse for the poor creatures, and following, with angelic sweetness, to heal the wounds her mother inflicted.

When Lady Dashfort thought she had sufficiently worked upon Lord Colambre's mind to weaken his enthusiasm for his native country; and when Lady Isabel had, by the appearance of every virtue, added to a delicate preference, if not partiality for our hero, ingratiated herself into his good opinion, and obtained an interest in his mind, the wily mother ventured an attack of a more decisive nature; and so contrived it was, that if it failed, it should appear to have been made without design to injure, and in total ignorance.

One day, Lady Dashfort, who, in fact, was not proud of her family, though she pretended to be so, was herself prevailed on, though with much difficulty, by Lady Killpatrick, to do the very thing she wanted to do, to show her genealogy, which had been beautifully blazoned, and which was to be produced in evidence in the lawsuit that brought her to Ireland. Lord Colambre stood politely looking on and listening, while her ladys.h.i.+p explained the splendid intermarriages of her family, pointing to each medallion that was filled gloriously with n.o.ble, and even with royal names, till at last she stopped short, and covering one medallion with her finger, she said, "Pa.s.s over that, dear Lady Killpatrick. You are not to see that, Lord Colambre--that's a little blot in our scutcheon. You know, Isabel, we never talk of that prudent match of great uncle John's: what could he expect by marrying into _that_ family, where, you know, all the men were not _sans peur_, and none of the women _sans reproche_?"

"Oh, mamma!" cried Lady Isabel, "not one exception!"

"Not one, Isabel," persisted Lady Dashfort: "there was Lady ----, and the other sister, that married the man with the long nose; and the daughter again, of whom they contrived to make an honest woman, by getting her married in time to a _blue riband_, and who contrived to get herself into Doctors' Commons the very next year."

"Well, dear mamma, that is enough, and too much. Oh! pray don't go on," cried Lady Isabel, who had appeared very much distressed during her mother's speech. "You don't know what you are saying: indeed, ma'am, you don't."

"Very likely, child; but that compliment I can return to you on the spot, and with interest; for you seem to me, at this instant, not to know either what you are saying, or what you are doing. Come, come, explain."

"Oh, no, ma'am--Pray say no more; I will explain myself another time."

"Nay, there you are wrong, Isabel; in point of good-breeding, any thing is better than hints and mystery. Since I have been so unlucky as to touch upon the subject, better go through with it, and, with all the boldness of innocence, I ask the question, Are you, my Lord Colambre, or are you not, related to or connected with any of the St.

Omars?"

"Not that I know of," said Lord Colambre; "but I really am so bad a genealogist, that I cannot answer positively."

"Then I must put the substance of my question into a new form. Have you, or have you not, a cousin of the name of Nugent?"

"Miss Nugent!--Grace Nugent!--Yes," said Lord Colambre, with as much firmness of voice as he could command, and with as little change of countenance as possible; but, as the question came upon him so unexpectedly, it was not in his power to answer with an air of absolute indifference and composure.

"And her mother was--" said Lady Dashfort.

"My aunt, by marriage; her maiden name was Reynolds, I think. But she died when I was quite a child. I know very little about her. I never saw her in my life; but I am certain she was a Reynolds."

"Oh, my dear lord," continued Lady Dashfort; "I am perfectly aware that she did take and bear the name of Reynolds; but that was not her maiden name--her maiden name was--; but perhaps it is a family secret that has been kept, for some good reason, from you, and from the poor girl herself; the maiden name was St. Omar, depend upon it. Nay, I would not have told this to you, my lord, if I could have conceived that it would affect you so violently," pursued Lady Dashfort, in a tone of raillery; "you see you are no worse off than we are. We have an intermarriage with the St. Omars. I did not think you would be so much shocked at a discovery, which proves that our family and yours have some little connexion."

Lord Colambre endeavoured to answer, and mechanically said something about "happy to have the honour." Lady Dashfort, truly happy to see that her blow had hit the mark so well, turned from his lords.h.i.+p without seeming to observe how seriously he was affected; and Lady Isabel sighed, and looked with compa.s.sion on Lord Colambre, and then reproachfully at her mother. But Lord Colambre heeded not her looks, and heard none of her sighs; he heard nothing, saw nothing, though his eyes were intently fixed on the genealogy, on which Lady Dashfort was still descanting to Lady Killpatrick. He took the first opportunity he could of quitting the room, and went out to take a solitary walk.

"There he is, departed, but not in peace, to reflect upon what has been said," whispered Lady Dashfort to her daughter. "I hope it will do him a vast deal of good."

"None of the women _sans reproche_! None!--without one exception,"

said Lord Colambre to himself; "and Grace Nugent's mother a St.

Omar!--Is it possible? Lady Dashfort seems certain. She could not a.s.sert a positive falsehood--no motive. She does not know that Miss Nugent is the person to whom I am attached--she spoke at random. And I have heard it first from a stranger,--not from my mother. Why was it kept secret from me? Now I understand the reason why my mother evidently never wished that I should think of Miss Nugent--why she always spoke so vehemently against the marriages of relations, of cousins. Why not tell me the truth? It would have had the strongest effect, had she known my mind."

Lord Colambre had the greatest dread of marrying any woman whose mother had conducted herself ill. His reason, his prejudices, his pride, his delicacy, and even his limited experience were all against it. All his hopes, his plans of future happiness, were shaken to their very foundation; he felt as if he had received a blow that stunned his mind, and from which he could not recover his faculties. The whole of that day he was like one in a dream. At night the painful idea continually recurred to him; and whenever he was fallen asleep, the sound of Lady Dashfort's voice returned upon his ear, saying the words, "What could he expect when he married one of the St. Omars?

None of the women _sans reproche_."

In the morning he rose early; and the first thing he did was to write a letter to his mother, requesting (unless there was some important reason for her declining to answer the question) that she would immediately relieve his mind from a great _uneasiness_ (he altered the word four times, but at last left it uneasiness). He stated what he had heard, and besought his mother to tell him the whole truth without reserve.

CHAPTER VIII.

One morning Lady Dashfort had formed an ingenious scheme for leaving Lady Isabel and Lord Colambre _tete-a-tete_; but the sudden entrance of Heathc.o.c.k disconcerted her intentions. He came to beg Lady Dashfort's interest with Count O'Halloran, for permission to hunt and shoot on his grounds next season.--"Not for myself, 'pon honour, but for two officers who are quartered at the next _town_ here, who will indubitably hang or drown themselves if they are debarred from sporting."

"Who is this Count O'Halloran?" said Lord Colambre.

Miss White, Lady Killpatrick's companion, said, "he was a great oddity;" Lady Dashfort, "that he was singular;" and the clergyman of the parish, who was at breakfast, declared "that he was a man of uncommon knowledge, merit, and politeness."

"All I know of him," said Heathc.o.c.k, "is, that he is a great sportsman, with a long queue, a gold-laced hat, and long skirts to a laced waistcoat."

Lord Colambre expressed a wish to see this extraordinary personage; and Lady Dashfort, to cover her former design, and, perhaps thinking absence might be as effectual as too much propinquity, immediately offered to call upon the officers in their way, and carry them with Heathc.o.c.k and Lord Colambre to Halloran Castle.

Lady Isabel retired with much mortification, but with becoming grace; and Major Benson and Captain Williamson were taken to the count's.

Major Benson, who was a famous _whip_, took his seat on the box of the barouche; and the rest of the party had the pleasure of her ladys.h.i.+p's conversation for three or four miles: of her ladys.h.i.+p's conversation--for Lord Colambre's thoughts were far distant; Captain Williamson had not any thing to say; and Heathc.o.c.k nothing but "Eh!

re'lly now!--'pon honour!"

They arrived at Halloran Castle--a fine old building, part of it in ruins, and part repaired with great judgment and taste. When the carriage stopped, a respectable-looking man-servant appeared on the steps, at the open hall-door.

Count O'Halloran was out fis.h.i.+ng; but his servant said that he would he at home immediately, if Lady Dashfort and the gentlemen would be pleased to walk in.

On one side of the lofty and s.p.a.cious hall stood the skeleton of an elk; on the other side, the perfect skeleton of a moose-deer, which, as the servant said, his master had made out, with great care, from the different bones of many of this curious species of deer, found in the lakes in the neighbourhood. The leash of officers witnessed their wonder with sundry strange oaths and exclamations.--"Eh! 'pon honour--re'lly now!" said Heathc.o.c.k; and, too genteel to wonder at or admire any thing in the creation, dragged out his watch with some difficulty, saying, "I wonder now whether they are likely to think of giving us any thing to eat in this place?" And, turning his back upon the moose-deer, he straight walked out again upon the steps, called to his groom, and began to make some inquiry about his led horse. Lord Colambre surveyed the prodigious skeletons with rational curiosity, and with that sense of awe and admiration, by which a superior mind is always struck on beholding any of the great works of Providence.

"Come, my dear lord!" said Lady Dashfort; "with our sublime sensations, we are keeping my old friend, Mr. Ulick Brady, this venerable person, waiting to show us into the reception-room."

The servant bowed respectfully--more respectfully than servants of modern date.

"My lady, the reception-room has been lately painted,--the smell of paint may be disagreeable; with your leave, I will take the liberty of showing you into my master's study."

He opened the door, went in before her, and stood holding up his finger, as if making a signal of silence to some one within. Her ladys.h.i.+p entered, and found herself in the midst of an odd a.s.sembly: an eagle, a goat, a dog, an otter, several gold and silver fish in a gla.s.s globe, and a white mouse in a cage. The eagle, quick of eye but quiet of demeanour, was perched upon his stand; the otter lay under the table, perfectly harmless; the Angora goat, a beautiful and remarkably little creature of its kind, with long, curling, silky hair, was walking about the room with the air of a beauty and a favourite; the dog, a tall Irish greyhound--one of the few of that fine race, which is now almost extinct--had been given to Count O'Halloran by an Irish n.o.bleman, a relation of Lady Dashfort's. This dog, who had formerly known her ladys.h.i.+p, looked at her with ears erect, recognized her, and went to meet her the moment she entered.

The servant answered for the peaceable behaviour of all the rest of the company of animals, and retired. Lady Dashfort began to feed the eagle from a silver plate on his stand; Lord Colambre examined the inscription on his collar; the other men stood in amaze. Heathc.o.c.k, who came in last, astonished out of his constant "Eh! re'lly now!"

the moment he put himself in at the door, exclaimed, "Zounds! what's all this live lumber?" and he stumbled over the goat, who was at that moment crossing the way. The colonel's spur caught in the goat's curly beard; the colonel shook his foot, and entangled the spur worse and worse; the goat struggled and b.u.t.ted; the colonel skated forward on the polished oak floor, balancing himself with outstretched arms.

The indignant eagle screamed, and, pa.s.sing by, perched on Heathc.o.c.k's shoulders. Too well bred to have recourse to the terrors of his beak, he scrupled not to scream, and flap his wings about the colonel's ears. Lady Dashfort, the while, threw herself back in her chair, laughing, and begging Heathc.o.c.k's pardon. "Oh, take care of the dog, my dear colonel!" cried she; "for this kind of dog seizes his enemy by the back, and shakes him to death." The officers, holding their sides, laughed and begged--no pardon; while Lord Colambre, the only person who was not absolutely incapacitated, tried to disentangle the spur, and to liberate the colonel from the goat, and the goat from the colonel; an attempt in which he at last succeeded, at the expense of a considerable portion of the goat's beard. The eagle, however, still kept his place; and, yet mindful of the wrongs of his insulted friend the goat, had stretched his wings to give another buffet. Count O'Halloran entered; and the bird, quitting his prey, flew down to greet his master. The count was a fine old military-looking gentleman, fresh from fis.h.i.+ng: his fis.h.i.+ng accoutrements hanging carelessly about him, he advanced, unembarra.s.sed, to Lady Dashfort; and received his other guests with a mixture of military ease and gentlemanlike dignity.

Without adverting to the awkward and ridiculous situation in which he had found poor Heathc.o.c.k, he apologized in general for his troublesome favourites. "For one of them," said he, patting the head of the dog, which lay quiet at Lady Dashfort's feet, "I see I have no need to apologize; he is where he ought to be. Poor fellow! he has never lost his taste for the good company to which he was early accustomed. As to the rest," said he, turning to Lady Dashfort, "a mouse, a bird, and a fish, are, you know, tribute from earth, air, and water, to a conqueror--"

"But from no barbarous Scythian!" said Lord Colambre, smiling. The count looked at Lord Colambre, as at a person worthy his attention; but his first care was to keep the peace between his loving subjects and his foreign visitors. It was difficult to dislodge the old settlers, to make room for the new comers: but he adjusted these things with admirable facility; and, with a master's hand and master's eye, compelled each favourite to retreat into the back settlements.

With becoming attention, he stroked and kept quiet old Victory, his eagle, who eyed Colonel Heathc.o.c.k still, as if he did not like him; and whom the colonel eyed as if he wished his neck fairly wrung off.

The little goat had nestled himself close up to his liberator, Lord Colambre, and lay perfectly quiet, with his eyes closed, going very wisely to sleep, and submitting philosophically to the loss of one half of his beard. Conversation now commenced, and was carried on by Count O'Halloran with much ability and spirit, and with such quickness of discrimination and delicacy of taste, as quite surprised and delighted our hero. To the lady the count's attention was first directed: he listened to her as she spoke, bending with an air of deference and devotion. She made her request for permission for Major Benson and Captain Williamson to hunt and shoot in his grounds next season: this was instantly granted.

Her ladys.h.i.+p's requests were to him commands, the count said.--His gamekeeper should be instructed to give the gentlemen, her friends, every liberty, and all possible a.s.sistance.

Then, turning to the officers, he said, he had just heard that several regiments of English militia had lately landed in Ireland; that one regiment was arrived at Killpatrick's-town. He rejoiced in the advantages Ireland, and he hoped he might be permitted to add, England, would probably derive from the exchange of the militia of both countries: habits would be improved, ideas enlarged. The two countries have the same interest; and, from the inhabitants discovering more of each other's good qualities, and interchanging little good offices in common life, their esteem and affection for each other would increase, and rest upon the firm basis of mutual utility.

To all this Major Benson answered only, "We are not militia officers."