The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II)

CHAPTER XVI. “A CHALLENGE”

“He ‘s here; he arrived last night,” said Magennis, as he entered the room after a short exploring tour through the stables, the kitchen, and every other quarter where intelligence might be come at. “He came alone; but the major of the detachment supped with him, and that looks like business!”

“The earlier you see him the better, then,” said Mas-singbred.

“I’ll just go and get my beard off,” said he, passing his hand across a very grizzly stubble, “and I’ll be with him in less than half an hour. There’s only a point or two I want to be clear about. Before he struck you, did you gesticulate, or show any intention of using violence?”

“None. I have told you that I caught his horse by the bridle, but that was to save him from falling back.”

“Ah, that was indiscreet, at all events.”

“Would n’t it have been worse to suffer him to incur a severe danger which I might have prevented?”

“I don’t think so; but we’ll not discuss the point now. There was a blow?”

“That there was,” said Jack, pointing to the spot where a great strap of sticking-plaster extended across his forehead.

“And he seemed to understand at once that reparation was to be made for it?”

“The suggestion came from himself, frankly and speedily.”

“Well, it’s pretty evident we have to deal with a gentleman!” said Magennis, “and that same’s a comfort; so I’ll leave you now for a short time: amuse yourself as well as you can, but don’t quit the room.” And with this caution Magennis took his departure, and set off in search of Mr. Repton’s chamber.

“Where are you bringing the mutton chops, Peter?” said he to a waiter, who, with a well-loaded tray of eatables, was hastening along the corridor.

“To the ould Counsellor from Dublin, sir. He’s break-fastin’ with the Major.”

“And that’s his room, No. 19?”

“Yes, sir.”

“They ‘re merry, at all events,” said Magennis, as a burst of hearty laughter was heard from within the chamber.

“‘T is just that they are, indeed,” replied Peter. “The Counsellor does be telling one story after another, till you ‘d think he ‘d no end of them. He began last night at supper, and I could scarce change the plates for laughin’.”

Muttering some not very intelligible observation to himself, Magennis passed down the stairs, and issuing into the street, wended his way to the barber’s.

If the Oughterard Figaro had not as brilliant a vocation as his colleague of Seville, his occupations were scarcely less multifarious, for he kept the post-office, was clerk at petty sessions, collected the parish cess, presided over “the pound,” besides a vast number of inferior duties. Whether it was the result of a natural gift, or by the various information of his official life, Hosey Lynch was regarded in his native town as a remarkably shrewd man, and a good opinion on a number of subjects.

He was a short, decrepit old fellow, with an enormous head of curly black hair, which he seemed to cultivate with all the address of his craft; probably intending it as a kind of advertisement of his skill, displaying as it did all the resources of his handiwork. But even above this passion was his ardor for news, – news political, social, legal, or literary; whatever might be the topic, it always interested him, and it was his especial pride to have the initiative of every event that stirred the hearts of the Oughterard public.

The small den in which he performed his functions occupied the corner of the street, giving a view in two directions, so that Hosey, while cutting and curling, never was obliged to lose sight of that world without, in whose doings he felt so strong an interest. In the one easy-chair of this sanctum was Magennis now disposed, waiting for Mr. Lynch, who had just stepped down to “the pound,” to liberate the priest’s pig. Nor had he long to wait, for Hosey soon made his appearance, and slipping on a very greasy-looking jean-jacket, proceeded to serve him.

“The top of the morning to you, Captain,” – he always styled him by the title, – “it’s a rare pleasure to see you so early in town; but it will be a bad market to-day – cut and curled, Captain?”

“No; shaved!” said Magennis, bluntly.

“And shaved you shall be, Captain, – and beautifully shaved, too, for I have got an excellent case from Lamprey’s; they came yesterday, – came with the writ against Jones Creegan.”

“At whose suit?”

“Mrs. Miles Creegan, the other brother’s widow,” said Hosey, lathering away and talking with breathless rapidity. “There was a clause in old Sam’s will, that if ever Tom, the chap that died at Demerara – you’d like more off the whiskers, it’s more military. It was only yesterday Major Froode remarked to me what a soldierlike-looking man was Captain Magennis.”

“Is he in command of the detachment?”

“He is in his Majesty’s – 1st Foot – the ‘Buccaneers,’ they used to be called; I suppose you never heard why?”

“No, nor don’t want to hear. What kind of a man is the Major?”

“He ‘s a smart, well-made man, with rather a haughty look,” said Hosey, drawing himself up, and seeming to imply that there was a kind of resemblance between them.

“Is he English or Irish?”

“Scotch, Captain, – Scotch; and never gives more than fivepence for a cut and curl, pomatum included. – No letters, Mrs. Cronin,” cried he, raising up the movable shutter of the little window; then bending down his ear he listened to some whispered communication from that lady, after which he shut the panel, and resumed his functions. “She ‘s at law with O’Reilly about the party wall. There’s the Major now going down to the barracks, and I wonder who’s the other along with him;” and Hosey rushed to the door to find some clew to the stranger. In less than a quarter of a minute he was back again, asking pardon for absence, and informing Magennis “that the man in plain clothes was a Dublin counsellor, that arrived the night before. I think I can guess what he’s here for.”

“What is it?” cried Magennis, eagerly.

“There’s an election coming on, and the Martins expect a contest. – Nothing for you, Peter,” said he, to an applicant for a letter outside. “He’s looking to be made barony constable these four years, and he ‘s as much chance as I have of being – what shall I say? – ”

“Are you done?” asked Magennis, impatiently.

“One minute more, sir – the least touch round the chin, – and, as I was saying, Captain, the Martins will lose the borough.”

“Who thinks so besides you?” asked Magennis, gruffly.

“It is, I may say, the general opinion; the notion current in – There ‘s Miss Martin herself,” cried he, running to the window. “Well, really, she handles them ponies elegant!”

“Does she come often into town?”

“I don’t think I saw her in Oughterard – let me see when it was – it’s two years – no, but it’s not far off – it’s more than – ”

“Are you done?” said Magennis, impatiently. “I told you that I was pressed for time this morning.”

“You’re finished now, Captain,” said Hosey, presenting him with a small cracked looking-glass. “That’s what I call a neat chin and a beautiful sweep of whisker. Thank you, Captain. It’s a pleasure and an honor – not to say that it’s – ”

Magennis did not wait for the peroration, but striding hastily out of the little shop, issued into the street that led to the inn. On arriving there, he heard that Mr. Rep-ton had gone out, leaving word that he would be found at Major Froode’s quarters. Thither Magennis now repaired with all the solemn importance befitting his mission.

As he sent in his name, he could overhear the short colloquy that passed within, and perceived that Repton was about to retire; and now the servant ushered him into the presence of a smart, light-whiskered little man, with a pair of shrewd gray eyes, and a high forehead.

“A brother officer, I perceive, sir,” said he, looking at the card, whereupon the title Captain was inscribed; “pray take a chair.”

“You anticipate the reason of this visit, Major Froode,” said the other, with some degree of constraint, as though the preliminaries were the reverse of pleasant to him. The Major bowed, and Magennis went on: “I suppose, then, I’m to treat with you as the friend of Mr. Valentine Repton?”

“And you are Mr. Massingbred’s?” said the Major, answering the question with another.

“I have that honor, sir,” said Magennis, pompously; “and now, sir, how soon can it come off?”

“Don’t you imagine, Captain Magennis, that a little quiet discussion of the question at issue between two old soldiers, like you and myself, might possibly be advisable? Is there not a chance that our united experience might not suggest an amicable arrangement of this business?”

“Quite out of the question, – utterly, totally impossible!” said Magennis, sternly.

“Then perhaps I lie under some misconception,” said the Major, courteously.

“There was a blow, sir! – a blow!” said Magennis, in the same stern tone.

“I opine that everything that occurred was purely accidental, – just hear me out, – that a hasty word and a hurried gesture, complicated with the impatient movement of a horse – ”

A long whistle from Magennis interrupted the speech, and the Major, reddening to the very top of his high forehead, said, —

“Sir, this is unbecoming, – are you aware of it?”

“I’m quite ready for anything when this is settled,” said Magennis, but with less composure than he desired to assume. “What I meant was, that for a blow there is but one reparation.”

“Doubtless, if the injury admit of no explanation,” said the Major, calmly; “but in that lies the whole question. Consider two things, Captain Magennis: first of all, the equivocal appearance of your friend, the age and standing of mine.”

“By Jove! you’ll kill me in trying to save my life,” said Repton, bursting into the room. “I didn’t want to play eavesdropper, Froode, but these thin partitions are only soundboards for the voice. This gentleman,” added he, turning to Magennis, “is perfectly correct. There was a blow; and a blow has only one consequence, and that one I ‘m ready for. There may be, for aught I know, twenty ways of settling these matters in London or at the clubs, but we ‘re old-fashioned in our notions in Ireland here; and I don’t think that even when we pick up new fashions that we ‘re much the better for them, so that if your friend is here, Captain, and ready – ”

“Both, sir; here and ready!”

“Then so am I; and now for the place. Come, Froode, you don’t know Ireland as well as I do; just humor me this time, and whenever I get into a scrape in Scotland you shall have it all your own way. Eh, Captain, is n’t that fair?”

“Spoke like a trump!” muttered Magennis.

“For me, did you say?” said Repton, taking a letter from the servant, who had just entered the room.

“Yes, sir; and the groom says there’s an answer expected.”

“The devil take it, I ‘ve forgotten my spectacles. Froode, just tell me what’s this about, and who it comes from.”

“It’s Miss Martin’s hand,” said Froode, breaking the seal and running over the contents. “Oh, I perceive,” said he; “they’re afraid you have taken French leave of them at Cro’ Martin, and she has driven into town to carry you back again.”

“That comes of my leaving word at the little post-office to forward my letters to Dublin if not asked for to-morrow. Take a pen, Froode, and write a couple of lines for me; say that a very urgent call – a professional call – will detain me here to-day, but that if not back by dinner-time – Captain Magennis thinks it not likely,” added he, turning towards him as he sat, with a very equivocal expression, half grin, half sneer, upon his features – “that I ‘ll be with them at breakfast next morning,” resumed Repton, boldly. “Make some excuse for my not answering the note myself, – whatever occurs to you. And so, sir,” said he, turning to Magennis, “your friend’s name is Massingbred. Any relation to Colonel Moore Massingbred?”

“His son, – his only son, I believe.”

“How strange! I remember the father in the ‘House’ – I mean the Irish House – five-and-thirty years ago; he was always on the Government benches. It was of him Parsons wrote those doggerel lines, —

He could n’t call him a coward, though; for when they went out – which they did – Massingbred’s manner on the ground was admirable.”

“Will that do?” said Froode, showing a few lines he had hastily jotted down.

“I can’t read a word of it, but of course it will,” said he; “and then, sir,” added he, addressing Magennis, “the sooner we place ourselves at your disposal the better.”

Froode whispered something in Repton’ ear, and by his manner seemed as if remonstrating with him, when the other said aloud, —

“We ‘re in Ireland, Major; and, what’s more, we ‘re in Galway, as Macleweed said once to a prisoner, ‘With a Yorkshire jury, sir, I ‘d hang you. Your sentence now is to pay five marks to the King, and find bail for your good behavior.’ You see what virtue there is in locality.”

“There’s a neat spot about two miles off, on the road to Maum,” said Magennis to the Major. “We could ride slowly forward, and you might keep us in view.”

“In what direction did you say?”

“Take the second turn out of the market-place till you pass the baker’s shop, then to the left, and straight on afterwards. You can’t miss it.”

“Stop a moment, sir,” said Froode to Magennis, as he moved towards the door; “one word, if you please. It is distinctly understood that I have been overruled in this business, – that, in fact, I have submitted – ”

“Your point has been reserved,” said Repton, laughing, while he led him away; and Magennis at the same moment took his departure.

It was, indeed, with no slight feeling of triumph that thia gentleman now hastened back to the Martin Arms. Never did a great diplomatist experience more pride in the conclusion of some crowning act of negotiation than did he in the accomplishment of this affair.

“There ‘s many a man,” said he to himself, “who ‘d have accepted an apology here. There’s many a man might have let himself be embarrassed by the circumstances; for, certainly, the taking hold of the bridle was an awkward fact, and if the Major was a cute fellow he ‘d have made a stand upon it. I must say that the Counsellor showed no backwardness; he comes of that fine old stock we used to have before the Union.”

And with this profound reflection he entered the room where Massingbred sat awaiting him.

“It’s all settled. We’re to meet at the Priest’s Gap within an hour,” said Magennis, with the air of a man who had acquitted himself cleverly. “And though I say it that should n’t, if you were in other hands this morning you would n’t have got your shot.”

“I always relied implicitly upon your skill!” said Massingbred, humoring his vanity.

“Have you anything to arrange, – a letter or so to write; for I’ll step down to Dr. Hearkins to tell him to follow us?”

Massingbred made no reply as the other left the room. Once more alone, he began to think gravely over his present situation. Nor could all his habitual levity steel him against the conviction that five minutes of common-sense talk might arrange a dispute which now promised a serious ending. “However,” thought he, “we are not in the land where such differences admit of amicable solution, and there’s no help for it.”

A sharp tap at the door startled him from these musings, and before he could well reply to it Daniel Nelligan entered the room, and advanced towards him with an air of mingled ease and constraint.

“I hope you ‘ll forgive me, Mr. Massingbred,” he began. “I feel certain that you will at some future day, at least, for what I ‘m going to do.” Here he stopped and drew a long breath, as if not knowing in what terms to continue. Massingbred handed him a chair, and took one in front of him without speaking.

“I know what brought you here to-day; I am aware of it all.”

He paused, and waited for the other to speak; but Massingbred sat without offering a word, and evidently relying on his own social tact to confound and embarrass his visitor.

“I know, sir, that you are likely to regard my interference as impertinent,” resumed Nelligan; “but I trust that the friend of my son, Joe – ”

“I must set you right upon one point, at least, Mr. Nelligan,” said Massingbred, with an easy smile. “If you be only as accurate in your knowledge of my affairs as you are with respect to my private friendships, this visit has certainly proceeded from some misconception. Your son and I were friends once upon a time. We are so no longer!”

“I never heard of this. I never knew you had quarrelled!”

“We have not, sir. We have not even met. The discourtesy he has shown me since my arrival here – his avoidance of me, too marked to be explained away – is an offence. The only misfortune is that it is one which can be practised with impunity.”

“My son asks for none such,” said Dan, fiercely. “And if your observation is meant for an insult – ” He stopped suddenly, as if checked by something within, and then said, but in a voice full and measured, “I’m magistrate of this town, sir, and I come here upon information that has reached me of your intentions to commit a breach of the peace.”

“My dear Mr. Nelligan,” began Massingbred, in his most seductive of manners, – but the other had already witnessed the rupture of the only tie which bound them, the supposed friendship between Joe and Massingbred, and cared nothing for all the blandishments he could bestow, – “my dear Mr. Nelligan, you cannot, surely, suppose that a mere stranger as I am in your county – scarcely ten days here – should have been unfortunate enough to have incurred the animosity of any one.”

“I hold here a statement, sir,” said Nelligan, sternly, “which, if you please to pledge your honor to be incorrect – ”

“And this is Galway!” exclaimed Massingbred, – “this glorious land of chivalrous sentiment of which we poor Englishmen have been hearing to satiety! The Paradise of Point of Honor, then, turns out a very commonplace locality, after all!”

“I ‘m proud to say that our county has another reputation than its old one; not but – ” and he added the words in some temper – “there are a few left would like to teach you that its character was not acquired for nothing.”