Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I.

CHAPTER XXIV. A MORNING AT THE PRIORY

The morning after this interview was that on which the Chief Baron had invited Colonel Sewell to inspect his gardens and hothouses, – a promise of pleasure which, it is but fair to own, the Colonel regarded with no extravagant delight. To his thinking, the old Judge was an insupportable bore. His courtesy, his smartness, his anecdotes, his reminiscences were all Boredom. He was only endurable when by the excess of his conceit he made himself ridiculous. Then alone did Sewell relish his company; for he belonged to that class of men, and it is a class, who feel their highest enjoyment whenever they witness any trait in human nature that serves to disparage its dignity or tarnish its lustre.

That a man of unquestionable ability and power like the Chief Baron should render himself absurd through his vanity, was a great compensation to such a person as Sewell. To watch the weaknesses and note the flaws in a great nature, to treasure up the consolation that, after all, these “high intelligences” occasionally make precious fools of themselves, are very congenial pastimes to small folk. Perhaps, indeed, they are the sole features of such men they are able to appreciate, and, like certain reptiles, they never venture to bite save where corruption has preceded them.

Nothing in his manner betrayed this tendency; he was polished and courteous to a degree. A very critical eye might have detected in his bearing that he had been long a subordinate. His deference was a little – a very little – overstrained; he listened with a slight tinge of over-attention; and in his humility as he heard an order, and his activity as he obeyed it, you could read at once the aide-decamp in waiting.

It is not necessary to remind the reader that all this lacquer of good breeding covered a very coarse and vulgar nature. In manner he was charming, – his approach, his address, his conversation were all perfect; he knew well when to be silent, – when to concur by a smile with what he was not expected to confirm by a word, – when to seem suddenly confronted with a new conviction, and how to yield assent as though coerced to what he would rather have resisted. In a word, he was perfect in all the training of those superb poodles who fetch and carry for their masters, that they may have the recompense of snarling at all the rest of mankind.

As there are heaven-born doctors, lawyers, divines, and engineers, so are there men specially created for the antechamber, and Sewell was one of them.

The old Judge had given orders for a liberal breakfast. He deemed a soldier’s appetite would be a hearty one, and he meant to treat him hospitably. The table was therefore very generously spread, and Sewell looked approvingly at the fare, and ventured on a few words of compliment on the ample preparations before him.

“It is the only real breakfast-table I have seen since I left Calcutta,” said he, smiling graciously.

“You do me honor, sir,” replied the old man, who was not quite sure whether or not he felt pleased to be complimented on a mere domestic incident.

Sewell saw the hitch at once, and resumed: “I remember an observation Lord Commorton made me when I joined his staff in India. I happened to make some remark on a breakfast set out pretty much like this, and he said, ‘Bear in mind, Captain Sewell, that when a man who holds a high function sits down to a well-served breakfast, it means that he has already completed the really important work of the day. The full head means the empty stomach.’”

“His Excellency was right, sir; had he always been inspired with sentiments of equal wisdom, we should never have been involved in that unhappy Cantankankarabad war.”

“It was a very disastrous affair, indeed,” sighed Sewell; “I was through the whole of it.”

“When I first heard of the project,” continued the Judge, “I remarked to a friend who was with me, – one of the leading men at the Bar, – ‘This campaign will tarnish our arms, and imperil our hold on India. The hill-tribes are eminently warlike, and however specious in their promises to us, their fidelity to their chiefs has never been shaken.’”

“If your judgment had been listened to, it would have saved us a heavy reverse, and saved me a very painful wound; both bones were fractured here,” said Sewell, showing his wrist.

The Chief Baron scarcely deigned a glance at the cicatrix; he was high above such puny considerations. He was at that moment Governor-General of India and Prime Minister of England together. He was legislating for hundreds of millions of dark-skins, and preparing his explanations of his policy for the pale faces at home.

“‘Mark my words, Haire,’ said I,” continued the Judge, with increased pomposity of manner, “‘this is the beginning of insurrection in India.’ We have a maxim in law, Colonel Sewell, Like case, like rule. So was it there. May I help you to this curry?”

“I declare, my Lord, I was beginning to forget how hungry I was. Shall I be deemed impertinent if I ask how you obtained your marvellous – for it is marvellous – knowledge of India?”

“Just as I know the Japanese constitution; just as I know Central Africa; just as I know, and was able to quote some time back, that curious chapter of the Brehon laws on substitutes in penal cases. My rule of life has been, never to pass a day without increasing the store of my acquirements.”

“And all this with the weighty charge and labor of your high office.”

“Yes, sir; I have been eighteen years on the Bench. I have delivered in that time some judgments which have come to be deemed amongst the highest principles of British law. I have contributed largely to the periodical literature of the time. In a series of papers – you may not have heard of them – signed ‘Icon,’ in the ‘Lawyer’s Treasury of Useful Facts,’ I have defended the Bar against the aggressive violence of the Legislature, I hope it is not too much to say, triumphantly.”

“I remember Judge Beale, our Indian Chief-Justice, referring to those papers as the most splendid statement of the position and claims of the barrister in Great Britain.”

“Beale was an ass, sir; his law was a shade below his logic, – both were pitiable.”

“Indeed? – yes, a little more gravy. Is your cook a Provençal? that omelette would seem to say so.”

“My cook is a woman, and an Irishwoman, sir. She came to me from Lord Manners, and, I need not say, with the worst traditions of her art, which, under Lady Lendrick’s training, attained almost to the dignity of poisoning.”

Sewell could not restrain himself any longer, but laughed out at this sudden outburst. The old Judge was, however, pleased to accept the emotion as complimentary; he smiled and went on: “I recognized her aptitude, and resolved to train her, and to this end I made it a practice to detain her every morning after prayers, and read to her certain passages from approved authors on cookery, making her experiment on the receipts for the servants’ hall. We had at first some slight cases of illness, but not more serious than colic and violent cramps. In the end she was successful, sir, and has become what you see her.”

“She would be a cordon bleu in Paris.”

“I will take care, sir, that she hears of your approval. Would you not like a glass of Maraschino to finish with?”

“I have just tasted your brandy, and it is exquisite.”

“I cannot offer you a cigar, Colonel; but you are at liberty to smoke if you have one.”

“If I might have a stroll in that delicious garden that I see there, I could ask nothing better. Ah, my Lord,” said he, as they sauntered down a richly scented alley, “India has nothing like this, – I doubt if Paradise has any better.”

“You mean to return to the East?”

“Not if I can help it, – not if an exchange is possible. The fact is, my Lord, my dear wife’s health makes India impossible so far as she is concerned; the children, too, are of the age that requires removal to Europe; so that, if I go back, I go back alone.” He said this with a voice of deep depression, and intending to inspire the sorrow that overwhelmed him. The old Judge, however, fancied he had heard of heavier calamities in life than living separated from the wife of his bosom; he imagined, at least, that with courage and fortitude the deprivation might be endured; so he merely twitched the corners of his mouth in silence.

The Colonel misread his meaning, and went on: “Aspiring to nothing in life beyond a home and home-happiness, it is, of course, a heavy blow to me to sacrifice either my career or my comfort. I cannot possibly anticipate a return earlier than eight or ten years; and who is to count upon eight or ten years in that pestilent climate? Assuredly not a man already broken down by wounds and jungle fever!”

The justice of the remark was, perhaps, sufficient for the Chief Baron. He paid no attention to its pathetic side, and so did not reply.

Sewell began to lose patience, but he controlled himself, and, after a few puffs of his cigar, went on: “If it were not for the children, I ‘d take the thing easy enough. Half-pay is a beggarly thing, but I ‘d put up with it. I ‘m not a man of expensive tastes. If I can relish thoroughly such sumptuous fare as you gave me this morning, I can put up with very humble diet. I ‘m a regular soldier in that.”

“An excellent quality, sir,” said the old man, dryly.

“Lucy, of course, would suffer. There are privations which fall very heavily on a woman, and a woman, too, who has always been accustomed to a good deal of luxury.”

The Chief bowed an assent.

“I suppose I might get a depot appointment for a year or two. I might also – if I sold out – manage a barrack-mastership, or become an inspector of yeomanry, or some such vulgar makeshift; but I own, my Lord, when a man has filled the places I have, – held staff appointments, – been a private secretary, – discharged high trusts, too, for in Mooraghabad I acted as Deputy-Resident for eight months, – it does seem a precious come-down to ask to be made a paymaster in a militia regiment, or a subaltern in the mounted police.”

“Civil life is always open to a man of activity and energy,” said the Judge, calmly.

“If civil life means a profession, it means the sort of labor a man is very unfit for after five-and-thirty. The Church, of course, is open on easier terms; but I have scruples about the Church. I really could not take orders without I could conscientiously say, This is a walk I feel called to.”

“An honorable sentiment, sir,” was the dry rejoinder.

“So that the end will be, I suppose, one of these days I shall just repack my bullock-trunk, and go back to the place from whence I came, with the fate that attends such backward journeys!”

The Chief Baron made no remark. He stooped to fasten, a fallen carnation to the stick it had been attached to, and then resumed his walk. Sewell was so provoked by the sense of failure – for it had been a direct assault – that he walked along silent and morose. His patience could endure no longer, and he was ready now to resent whatever should annoy him.

“Have you any of the requirements, sir, that civil services demand?” asked the Judge, after a long pause.

“I take it I have such as every educated gentleman possesses,” replied Sewell, tartly.

“And what may these be, in your estimation?”

“I can read and write, I know the first three rules of arithmetic, and I believe these are about the qualifications that fit a man for a place in the Cabinet.”

“You are right, sir. With these, and the facility to talk platitudes in Parliament, a man may go very far and very high in life. I see that you know the world.”

Sewell, for a moment, scarcely knew whether to accept the speech as irony or approval; but a sidelong glance showed him that the old man’s face had resumed its expression of mingled insolence and vanity, and convinced him that he was now sincere. “The men,” said the Judge, pompously, “who win their way to high station in these days are either the crafty tricksters of party or the gross flatterers of the people; and whenever a man of superior mould is discovered, able to leave his mark on the age, and capable of making his name a memory, they have nothing better to offer him, as their homage, than an entreaty that he would resign his office and retire.”

“I go with every word you say, my Lord,” cried Sewell, with a well-acted enthusiasm.

“I want no approval, sir; I can sustain my opinions without a following!” A long silence ensued; neither was disposed to speak: at last the Judge said, – and he now spoke in a more kindly tone, divested alike of passion and of vanity, – “Your friends must see if something cannot be done for you, Colonel Sewell. I have little doubt but that you have many and warm friends. I speak not of myself; I am but a broken reed to depend on. Never was there one with less credit with his party. I might go farther, and say, never was there one whose advocacy would be more sure to damage a good cause; therefore exclude me in all questions of your advancement. If you could obliterate our relationship, it might possibly serve you.”

“I am too proud of it, my Lord, to think so.”

“Well, sir,” said he, with a sigh, “it is possibly a thing a man need not feel ashamed of; at least I hope as much. But we must take the world as it is, and when we want the verdict of public opinion, we must not presume to ask for a special jury. What does that servant want? Will you have the kindness to ask him whom he is looking for?”

“It is a visitor’s card, my Lord,” said Sewell, handing it to the old man as he spoke.

“There is some writing on it. Do me the favor to read it.”

Sewell took the card and read, “See Sir B. for me. – Wilmington. Sir Brook Fossbrooke.” The last words Sewell spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, for a deadly sickness came over him, and he swayed to and fro like one about to faint.

“What! does he return to the charge?” cried the old man, fiercely. “The Viceroy was a diplomatist once. Might it not have taught him that, after a failure, it would be as well to employ another envoy?”

“You have seen this gentleman already, then?” asked Sewell, in a low faint tone.

“Yes, sir. We passed an hour and half together, – an hour and half that neither of us will easily forget.”

“I conjecture, then, that he made no very favorable impression upon you, my Lord?”

“Sir, you go too fast. I have said nothing to warrant your surmise; nor am I one to be catechised as to the opinions I form of other men. It is enough on the present occasion if I say I do not desire to receive Sir Brook Fossbrooke, accredited though he be from so high a quarter. Will you do me the very great favor” – and now his voice became almost insinuating in its tone – “will you so deeply oblige me ate to see him for me? Say that I am prevented by the state of my health; that the rigorous injunctions of my doctor to avoid all causes of excitement – lay stress on excitement – deprive me of the honor of receiving him in person; but that you– mention our relationship – have been deputed by me to hear, and if necessary to convey to me, any communication he may have to make. You will take care to impress upon him that if the subject-matter of his visit be the same as that so lately discussed between ourselves, you will avail yourself of the discretion confided to you not to report it to me. That my nerves have not sufficiently recovered from the strain of that excitement to return to a topic no less full of irritating features than utterly hopeless of all accommodation. Mind, sir, that you employ the word as I give it, – ‘accommodation.’ It is a Gallicism, but all the better, where one desires to be imperative, and yet vague. You have your instructions, sir.”

“Yes, I think I understand what you desire me to do. My only difficulty is to know whether the matters Sir Brook Fossbrooke may bring forward be the same as those you discussed together. If I had any clew to these topics, I should at once be in a position to say, These are themes I must decline to present to the Chief Baron.”

“You have no need to know them, sir,” said the old man, haughtily. “You are in the position of an attesting witness; you have no dealing with the body of the document. Ask Sir Brook the question as I have put it, and reply as I have dictated.”

Sewell stood for a moment in deep thought. Had the old man but known over what realms of space his mind was wandering, – what troubles and perplexities that brain was encountering, – he might have been more patient and more merciful as he gazed on him.

“I don’t think, sir, I have confided to you any very difficult or very painful task,” said the Judge at last.

“Nothing of the kind, my Lord,” replied he, quickly; “my anxiety is only that I may acquit myself to your perfect satisfaction. I ‘ll go at once.”

“You will find me here whenever you want me.”

Sewell bowed, and went his way; not straight towards the house, however, but into a little copse at the end of the garden, to recover his equanimity and collect himself. Of all the disasters that could befall him, he knew of none he was less ready to confront than the presence of Sir Brook Fossbrooke in the same town with himself. No suspicion ever crossed his mind that he would come to Ireland. The very last he had heard of him was in New Zealand, where it was said he was about to settle. What, too, could be his business with the Chief Baron? Had he discovered their relationship, and was he come to denounce and expose him? No, – evidently not. The Viceroy’s introduction of him could not point in this direction, and then the old Judge’s own manner negatived this conjecture. Had he heard but one of the fifty stories Sir Brook could have told of him, there would be no question of suffering him to cross his threshold.

“How shall I meet him? how shall I address him?” muttered he again and again to himself, as he walked to and fro in a perfect agony of trouble and perplexity. With almost any other man in the world, Sewell would have relied on his personal qualities to carry him through a passage of difficulty. He could assume a temper of complete imperturbability; he could put on calm, coldness, deference, if needed, to any extent; he could have acted his part – it would have been mere acting – as man of honor and man of courage to the life, with any other to confront him but Sir Brook.

This, however, was the one man on earth who knew him, – the one man by whose mercy he was able to hold up his head and maintain his station; and that this one man should now be here! here, within a few yards of where he stood!

“I could murder him as easily as I go to meet him,” muttered Sewell, as he turned towards the house.

CHAPTER XXV. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

As Sir Brook sat in the library waiting for the arrival of the Chief Baron, Lucy Lendrick came in to look for a book she had been reading. “Only think, sir,” said she, flushing deeply with joy and astonishment together, – “to find you here! What a delightful surprise!”

“I have come, my dear child,” said he, gravely, “to speak with Sir William on a matter of some importance; and evidently he is not aware that my moments are precious, for I have been here above half an hour alone.”

“But now that I am with you,” said she, coquettishly, “you ‘ll surely not be so churlish of your time, will you?”