Castle Richmond Part 25

He then betook himself to a private territory of his own, where he might be sure that he would remain undisturbed for some half-hour or so. He would go to his mother, of course, but not quite immediately.

He would think over the matter, endeavouring to ascertain what it was that had made his father's manner and words so painful to him.

But he could not get his thoughts to work rightly;--which getting of the thoughts to work rightly is, by-the-by, as I take it, the hardest work which a man is called upon to do. Not that the subject to be thought about need in itself be difficult. Were one to say that thoughts about hydrostatics and pneumatics are difficult to the mult.i.tude, or that mental efforts in regions of political economy or ethical philosophy are beyond ordinary reach, one would only p.r.o.nounce an evident truism, an absurd plat.i.tude. But let any man take any subject fully within his own mind's scope, and strive to think about it steadily, with some attempt at calculation as to results. The chances are his mind will fly off, will-he-nill-he, to some utterly different matter. When he wishes to debate within himself that question of his wife's temper, he will find himself considering whether he may not judiciously give away half a dozen pairs of those old boots; or when it behoves him to decide whether it shall be manure and a green crop, or a fallow season and then gra.s.s seeds, he cannot keep himself from inward inquiry as to the meaning of that peculiar smile on Mrs. Walker's face when he shook hands with her last night.

Lord Brougham and Professor Faraday can, no doubt, command their thoughts. If many men could do so, there would be many Lord Broughams and many Professor Faradays.

At the present moment Herbert Fitzgerald had no right to consider himself as following in the steps of either one or other of these great men. He wished to think about his father's circ.u.mstances, but his mind would fly off to Clara Desmond and her perfections. And thus, though he remained there for half an hour, with his back to the fire and his hands in his pockets, his deliberations had done him no good whatever,--had rather done him harm, seeing that he had only warmed himself into a firmer determination to go on with what he was doing. And then he went to his mother.

She kissed him, and spoke very tenderly, nay affectionately, about Clara; but even she, even his mother, did not speak joyously; and she also said something about the difficulty of providing a maintenance for a married son. Then to her he burst forth, and spoke somewhat loudly.

"I cannot understand all this, mother. If either you or my father know any reason why I should be treated differently from other sons, you ought to tell me; not leave me to grope about in the dark."

"But, my boy, we both think that no son was ever ent.i.tled to more consideration, or to kinder or more liberal treatment."

"Why do I hear all this, then, about the difficulty of my marrying?

Or if I hear so much, why do I not hear more? I know pretty well, I believe, what is my father's income."

"If you do not, he would tell you for the asking."

"And I know that I must be the heir to it, whatever it is,--not that that feeling would make any difference in my dealings with him, not the least. And, under these circ.u.mstances, I cannot conceive why he and you should look coldly upon my marriage."

"I look coldly on it, Herbert!"

"Do you not? Do you not tell me that there will be no income for me?

If that is to be so; if that really is the case; if the property has so dwindled away, or become embarra.s.sed--"

"Oh, Herbert! there never was a man less likely to injure his son's property than your father."

"I do not mean that, mother. Let him do what he likes with it, I should not upbraid him, even in my thoughts. But if it be embarra.s.sed; if it has dwindled away; if there be any reason why I should not regard myself as altogether untrammelled with regard to money, he ought to tell me. I cannot accuse myself of expensive tastes."

"Dearest Herbert, n.o.body accuses you of anything."

"But I do desire to marry; and now I have engaged myself, and will not break from my engagement, unless it be shown to me that I am bound in honour to do so. Then, indeed--"

"Oh, Herbert! I do not know what you mean."

"I mean this: that I expect that Clara shall be received as my wife with open arms--"

"And so she shall be if she comes."

"Or else that some reason should be given me why she should not come.

As to income, something must be done, I suppose. If the means at our disposal are less than I have been taught to believe, I at any rate will not complain. But they cannot, I think, be so small as to afford any just reason why I should not marry."

"Your father, you see, is ill, and one can hardly talk to him fully upon such matters at present."

"Then I will speak to Somers. He, at any rate, must know how the property is circ.u.mstanced, and I suppose he will not hesitate to tell me."

"I don't think Somers can tell you anything."

"Then what is it? As for the London estate, mother, that is all moons.h.i.+ne. What if it were gone altogether? It may be that it is that which vexes my father; but if so, it is a monomania."

"Oh, my boy, do not use such a word!"

"You know what I mean. If any doubt as to that is creating this despondency, it only shows that though we are bound to respect and relieve my father's state of mind, we are not at all bound to share it. What would it really matter, mother, if that place in London were washed away by the Thames? There is more than enough left for us all, unless--"

"Ah, Herbert, that is it."

"Then I will go to Somers, and he shall tell me. My father's interest in this property cannot have been involved without his knowledge; and circ.u.mstanced as we and my father are, he is bound to tell me."

"If there be anything within his knowledge to tell, he will tell it."

"And if there be nothing within his knowledge, then I can only look upon all this as a disease on my poor father's part. I will do all I can to comfort him in it; but it would be madness to destroy my whole happiness because he labours under delusions."

Lady Fitzgerald did not know what further to say. She half believed that Sir Thomas did labour under some delusion; but then she half believed also that he had upon his mind a sorrow, terribly real, which was in no sort delusive. Under such circ.u.mstances, how could she advise her son? Instead of advising him, she caressed him.

"But I may claim this from you, mother, that if Somers tells me nothing which ought to make me break my word to Clara, you will receive her as your daughter. You will promise me that, will you not?"

Lady Fitzgerald did promise, warmly; a.s.suring him that she already dearly loved Clara Desmond, that she would delight in having such a daughter-in-law, and that she would go to her to welcome her as such as soon as ever he should bid her do so. With this Herbert was somewhat comforted, and immediately started on his search after Mr.

Somers.

I do not think that any person is to be found, as a rule, attached to English estates whose position is a.n.a.logous to that of an Irish agent. And there is a wide misunderstanding in England as to these Irish functionaries. I have attempted, some pages back, to describe the national delinquencies of a middleman, or profit-renter. In England we are apt to think that the agents on Irish properties are to be charged with similar shortcomings. This I can a.s.sert to be a great mistake; and I believe that, as a cla.s.s, the agents on Irish properties do their duty in a manner beneficial to the people.

That there are, or were, many agents who were also middlemen, or profit-renters, and that in this second position they were a nuisance to the country, is no doubt true. But they were no nuisance in their working capacity as agents. That there are some bad agents there can be no doubt, as there are also some bad shoemakers.

The duties towards an estate which an agent performs in Ireland are, I believe, generally shared in England between three or four different persons. The family lawyer performs part, the estate steward performs part, and the landlord himself performs part;--as to small estates, by far the greater part.

In Ireland, let the estate be ever so small--eight hundred a year we will say--all the working of the property is managed by the agent. It is he who knows the tenants, and the limits of their holdings; it is he who arranges leases, and allows--or much more generally does not allow--for improvements. He takes the rent, and gives the order for the ejection of tenants if he cannot get it.

I am far from saying that it would not be well that much of this should be done by the landlord himself;--that all of it should be so done on a small property. But it is done by agents; and, as a rule is, I think, done honestly.

Mr. Somers was agent to the Castle Richmond property, and as he took to himself as such five per cent. on all rents paid, and as he was agent also to sundry other small properties in the neighbourhood, he succeeded in making a very snug income. He had also an excellent house on the estate, and was altogether very much thought of; on the whole, perhaps, more than was Sir Thomas. But in this respect it was probable that Herbert might soon take the lead.

He was a large, heavy, consequential man, always very busy, as though aware of being one of the most important wheels that kept the Irish clock agoing; but he was honest, kind-hearted in the main, true as steel to his employers, and good-humoured--as long as he was allowed to have his own way. In these latter days he had been a little soured by Herbert's interference, and had even gone so far as to say that, "in his humble judgment, Mr. Fitzgerald was wrong in doing"--so and so. But he generally called him Herbert, was always kind to him, and in his heart of hearts loved him dearly. But that was a matter of course, for had he not been agent to the estate before Herbert was born?

Immediately after his interview with his mother, Mr. Herbert rode over to Mr. Somers's house, and there found him sitting alone in his office. He dashed immediately into the subject that had brought him there. "I have come, Mr. Somers," said he, "to ask you a question about the property."

"About the Castle Richmond property?" said Mr. Somers, rather surprised by his visitor's manner.

"Yes; you know in what a state my poor father now is."

"I know that Sir Thomas is not very well. I am sorry to say that it is long since he has been quite himself."

"There is something that is preying upon his spirits."

"I am afraid so, Herbert."

"Then tell me fairly, Mr. Somers, do you know what it is?"