Lord Kilgobbin
‘Well, there is a lady in the case.’
‘Ay, ay! she’s a married woman,’ cried Kearney, closing one eye, and looking intensely cunning. ‘Then I may tell you at once, major, I’m no use to you whatever. If it was a young girl that liked you against the wish of her family, or that you were in love with though she was below you in condition, or that was promised to another man but wanted to get out of her bargain, I’m good for any of these, or scores more of the same kind; but if it’s mischief, and misery, and lifelong sorrow you have in your head, you must look out for another adviser.’
‘It’s nothing of the kind,’ said the other bluntly. ‘It’s marriage I was thinking of. I want to settle down and have a wife.’
‘Then why couldn’t you, if you think it would be any comfort to you?’
The last words were rather uttered than spoken, and sounded like a sad reflection uttered aloud.
‘I am not a rich man,’ said the major, with that strain it always cost him to speak of himself, ‘but I have got enough to live on. A goodish old house, and a small estate, underlet as it is, bringing me about two thousand a year, and some expectations, as they call them, from an old grand-aunt.’
‘You have enough, if you marry a prudent girl,’ muttered Kearney, who was never happier than when advocating moderation and discretion.
‘Enough, at least, not to look for money with a wife.’
‘I’m with you there, heart and soul,’ cried Kearney. ‘Of all the shabby inventions of our civilisation, I don’t know one as mean as that custom of giving a marriage-portion with a girl. Is it to induce a man to take her? Is it to pay for her board and lodging? Is it because marriage is a partnership, and she must bring her share into the “concern”? or is it to provide for the day when they are to part company, and each go his own road? Take it how you like, it’s bad and it’s shabby. If you’re rich enough to give your daughter twenty or thirty thousand pounds, wait for some little family festival – her birthday, or her husband’s birthday, or a Christmas gathering, or maybe a christening – and put the notes in her hand. Oh, major dear,’ cried he aloud, ‘if you knew how much of life you lose with lawyers, and what a deal of bad blood comes into the world by parchments, you’d see the wisdom of trusting more to human kindness and good feeling, and above all, to the honour of gentlemen – things that nowadays we always hope to secure by Act of Parliament.’
‘I go with a great deal of what you say.’
‘Why not with all of it? What do we gain by trying to overreach each other? What advantage in a system where it’s always the rogue that wins? If I was a king to-morrow, I’d rather fine a fellow for quoting Blackstone than for blasphemy, and I’d distribute all the law libraries in the kingdom as cheap fuel for the poor. We pray for peace and quietness, and we educate a special class of people to keep us always wrangling. Where’s the sense of that?’
While Kearney poured out these words in a flow of fervid conviction, they had arrived at a little open space in the wood, from which various alleys led off in different directions. Along one of these, two figures were slowly moving side by side, whom Lockwood quickly recognised as Walpole and Nina Kostalergi. Kearney did not see them, for his attention was suddenly called off by a shout from a distance, and his son Dick rode hastily up to the spot.
‘I have been in search of you all through the plantation,’ cried he. ‘I have brought back Holmes the lawyer from Tullamore, who wants to talk to you about this affair of Gorman’s. It’s going to be a bad business, I fear.’
‘Isn’t that more of what I was saying?’ said the old man, turning to the major. ‘There’s law for you!’
‘They’re making what they call a “National” event of it,’ continued Dick. ‘The Pike has opened a column of subscriptions to defray the cost of proceedings, and they’ve engaged Battersby with a hundred-guinea retainer already.’
It appeared from what tidings Dick brought back from the town, that the Nationalists – to give them the much unmerited name by which they called themselves – were determined to show how they could dictate to a jury.
‘There’s law for you!’ cried the old man again.
‘You’ll have to take to vigilance committees, like the Yankees,’ said the major.
‘We’ve had them for years; but they only shoot their political opponents.’
‘They say, too,’ broke in the young man, ‘that Donogan is in the town, and that it is he who has organised the whole prosecution. In fact, he intends to make Battersby’s speech for the plaintiff a great declaration of the wrongs of Ireland; and as Battersby hates the Chief Baron, who will try the cause, he is determined to insult the Bench, even at the cost of a commitment.’
‘What will he gain by that?’ asked Lockwood.
‘Every one cannot have a father that was hanged in ‘98; but any one can go to gaol for blackguarding a Chief-Justice,’ said Kearney.
For a moment or two the old man seemed ashamed at having been led to make these confessions to ‘the Saxon,’ and telling Lockwood where he would be likely to find a brace of cocks, he took his son’s arm and returned homeward.
CHAPTER LXXVI
VERY CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATIONWhen Lockwood returned, only in time to dress for dinner, Walpole, whose room adjoined his, threw open the door between them and entered. He had just accomplished a most careful ‘tie,’ and came in with the air of one fairly self-satisfied and happy.
‘You look quite triumphant this evening,’ said the major, half sulkily.
‘So I am, old fellow; and so I have a right to be. It’s all done and settled.’
‘Already?’
‘Ay, already. I asked her to take a stroll with me in the garden; but we sauntered off into the plantation. A woman always understands the exact amount of meaning a man has in a request of this kind, and her instinct reveals to her at once whether he is eager to tell her some bit of fatal scandal of one of her own friends, or to make her a declaration.’
A sort of sulky grunt was Lockwood’s acknowledgment of this piece of abstract wisdom – a sort of knowledge he never listened to with much patience.
‘I am aware,’ said Walpole flippantly, ‘the female nature was an omitted part in your education, Lockwood, and you take small interest in those nice distinctive traits which, to a man of the world, are exactly what the stars are to the mariner.’
‘Finding out what a woman means by the stars does seem very poor fun.’
‘Perhaps you prefer the moon for your observation,’ replied Walpole; and the easy impertinence of his manner was almost too much for the other’s patience.
‘I don’t care for your speculations – I want to hear what passed between you and the Greek girl.’
‘The Greek girl will in a very few days be Mrs. Walpole, and I shall crave a little more deference for the mention of her.’
‘I forgot her name, or I should not have called her with such freedom! What is it?’
‘Kostalergi. Her father is Kostalergi, Prince of Delos.’
‘All right; it will read well in the Post.’
‘My dear friend, there is that amount of sarcasm in your conversation this evening, that to a plain man like myself, never ready to reply, and easily subdued by ridicule, is positively overwhelming. Has any disaster befallen you that you are become so satirical and severe?’
‘Never mind me– tell me about yourself,’ was the blunt reply.
‘I have not the slightest objection. When we had walked a little way together, and I felt that we were beyond the risk of interruption, I led her to the subject of my sudden reappearance here, and implied that she, at least, could not have felt much surprise. “You remember,” said I, “I promised to return?”
‘“There is something so conventional,” said she, “in these pledges, that one comes to read them like the ‘yours sincerely’ at the foot of a letter.”
‘“I ask for nothing better,” said I, taking her up on her own words, “than to be ‘yours sincerely.’ It is to ratify that pledge by making you ‘mine sincerely’ that I am here.”
‘“Indeed!” said she slowly, and looking down.
‘“I swear it!” said I, kissing her hand, which, however, had a glove on.’
‘Why not her cheek?’
‘That is not done, major mine, at such times.’
‘Well, go on.’
‘I can’t recall the exact words, for I spoke rapidly; but I told her I was named Minister at a foreign Court, that my future career was assured, and that I was able to offer her a station, not, indeed, equal to her deserts, but that, occupied by her, would be only less than royal.’
‘At Guatemala!’ exclaimed the other derisively.
‘Have the kindness to keep your geography to yourself,’ said Walpole. ‘I merely said in South America, and she had too much delicacy to ask more.’
‘But she said Yes? She consented?’
‘Yes, sir, she said she would venture to commit her future to my charge.’
‘Didn’t she ask you what means you had? what was your income?’
‘Not exactly in the categorical way you put it, but she alluded to the possible style we should live in.’
‘I’ll swear she did. That girl asked you, in plain words, how many hundreds or thousands you had a year?’
‘And I told her. I said, “It sounds humbly, dearest, to tell you we shall not have fully two thousand a year; but the place we are going to is the cheapest in the universe, and we shall have a small establishment of not more than forty black and about a dozen white servants, and at first only keep twenty horses, taking our carriages on job.”’
‘What about pin-money?’
‘There is not much extravagance in toilet, and so I said she must manage with a thousand a year.’
‘And she didn’t laugh in your face?’
‘No, sir! nor was there any strain upon her good-breeding to induce her to laugh in my face.’
‘At all events, you discussed the matter in a fine practical spirit. Did you go into groceries? I hope you did not forget groceries?’
‘My dear Lockwood, let me warn you against being droll. You ask me for a correct narrative, and when I give it, you will not restrain that subtle sarcasm the mastery of which makes you unassailable.’
‘When is it to be? When is it to come off? Has she to write to His Serene Highness the Prince of What’s-his-name?’
‘No, the Prince of What’s-his-name need not be consulted; Lord Kilgobbin will stand in the position of father to her.’
Lockwood muttered something, in which ‘Give her away!’ were the only words audible. ‘I must say,’ added he aloud, ‘the wooing did not take long.’
‘You forget that there was an actual engagement between us when I left this for London. My circumstances at that time did not permit me to ask her at once to be my wife; but our affections were pledged, and – even if more tender sentiments did not determine – my feeling, as a man of honour, required I should come back here to make her this offer.’
‘All right; I suppose it will do – I hope it will do; and after all, I take it, you are likely to understand each other better than others would.’
‘Such is our impression and belief.’
‘How will your own people – how will Danesbury like it?’
‘For their sakes I trust they will like it very much; for mine, it is less than a matter of indifference to me.’
‘She, however – she will expect to be properly received amongst them?’
‘Yes,’ cried Walpole, speaking for the first time in a perfectly natural tone, divested of all pomposity. ‘Yes, she stickles for that, Lockwood. It was the one point she seemed to stand out for. Of course I told her she would be received with open arms by my relatives – that my family would be overjoyed to receive her as one of them. I only hinted that my lord’s gout might prevent him from being at the wedding. I’m not sure Uncle Danesbury would not come over. “And the charming Lady Maude,” asked she, “would she honour me so far as to be a bridesmaid?”’
‘She didn’t say that?’
‘She did. She actually pushed me to promise I should ask her.’
‘Which you never would.’
‘Of that I will not affirm I am quite positive; but I certainly intend to press my uncle for some sort of recognition of the marriage – a civil note; better still, if it could be managed, an invitation to his house in town.’
‘You are a bold fellow to think of it.’
‘Not so bold as you imagine. Have you not often remarked that when a man of good connections is about to exile himself by accepting a far-away post, whether it be out of pure compassion or a feeling that it need never be done again, and that they are about to see the last of him; but, somehow – whatever the reason – his friends are marvellously civil and polite to him, just as some benevolent but eccentric folk send a partridge to the condemned felon for his last dinner.’
‘They do that in France.’
‘Here it would be a rumpsteak; but the sentiment is the same. At all events, the thing is as I told you, and I do not despair of Danesbury.’
‘For the letter, perhaps not; but he’ll never ask you to Bruton Street, nor, if he did, could you accept.’
‘You are thinking of Lady Maude.’
‘I am.’
‘There would be no difficulty in that quarter. When a Whig becomes Tory, or a Tory Whig, the gentlemen of the party he has deserted never take umbrage in the same way as the vulgar dogs below the gangway; so it is in the world. The people who must meet, must dine together, sit side by side at flower-shows and garden-parties, always manage to do their hatreds decorously, and only pay off their dislikes by instalments. If Lady Maude were to receive my wife at all, it would be with a most winning politeness. All her malevolence would limit itself to making the supposed underbred woman commit a gaucherie, to do or say something that ought not to have been done or said; and, as I know Nina can stand the test, I have no fears for the experiment.’
A knock at the door apprised them that the dinner was waiting, neither having heard the bell which had summoned them a quarter of an hour before. ‘And I wanted to hear all about your progress,’ cried Walpole, as they descended the staircase together.
‘I have none to report,’ was the gruff reply.
‘Why, surely you have not passed the whole day in Kearney’s company without some hint of what you came here for?’
But at the same moment they were in the dining-room.
‘We are a man party to-day, I am sorry to say,’ cried old Kearney, as they entered. ‘My niece and my daughter are keeping Miss O’Shea company upstairs. She is not well enough to come down to dinner, and they have scruples about leaving her in solitude.’
‘At least we’ll have a cigar after dinner,’ was Dick’s ungallant reflection as they moved away.
CHAPTER LXXVII
TWO YOUNG LADIES ON MATRIMONY‘I hope they had a pleasanter dinner downstairs than we have had here,’ said Nina, as, after wishing Miss O’Shea a good-night, the young girls slowly mounted the stairs.
‘Poor old godmother was too sad and too depressed to be cheerful company; but did she not talk well and sensibly on the condition of the country? was it not well said, when she showed the danger of all that legislation which, assuming to establish right, only engenders disunion and class jealousy?’
‘I never followed her; I was thinking of something else.’
‘She was worth listening to, then. She knows the people well, and she sees all the mischief of tampering with natures so imbued with distrust. The Irishman is a gambler, and English law-makers are always exciting him to play.’
‘It seems to me there is very little on the game.’
‘There is everything – home, family, subsistence, life itself – all that a man can care for.’
‘Never mind these tiresome themes; come into my room; or I’ll go to yours, for I’m sure you’ve a better fire; besides, I can walk away if you offend me: I mean offend beyond endurance, for you are sure to say something cutting.’
‘I hope you wrong me, Nina.’
‘Perhaps I do. Indeed, I half suspect I do; but the fact is, it is not your words that reproach me, it is your whole life of usefulness is my reproach, and the least syllable you utter comes charged with all the responsibility of one who has a duty and does it, to a mere good-for-nothing. There, is not that humility enough?’
‘More than enough, for it goes to flattery.’
‘I’m not a bit sure all the time that I’m not the more lovable creature of the two. If you like, I’ll put it to the vote at breakfast.’
‘Oh, Nina!’
‘Very shocking, that’s the phrase for it, very shocking! Oh dear, what a nice fire, and what a nice little snug room; how is it, will you tell me, that though my room is much larger and better furnished in every way, your room is always brighter and neater, and more like a little home? They fetch you drier firewood, and they bring you flowers, wherever they get them. I know well what devices of roguery they practise.’
‘Shall I give you tea?’
‘Of course I’ll have tea. I expect to be treated like a favoured guest in all things, and I mean to take this arm-chair, and the nice soft cushion for my feet, for I warn you, Kate, I’m here for two hours. I’ve an immense deal to tell you, and I’ll not go till it’s told.’
‘I’ll not turn you out.’
‘I’ll take care of that; I have not lived in Ireland for nothing. I have a proper sense of what is meant by possession, and I defy what your great Minister calls a heartless eviction. Even your tea is nicer, it is more fragrant than any one else’s. I begin to hate you out of sheer jealousy.’
‘That is about the last feeling I ought to inspire.’
‘More humility; but I’ll drop rudeness and tell you my story, for I have a story to tell. Are you listening? Are you attentive? Well, my Mr. Walpole, as you called him once, is about to become so in real earnest. I could have made a long narrative of it and held you in weary suspense, but I prefer to dash at once into the thick of the fray, and tell you that he has this morning made me a formal proposal, and I have accepted him. Be pleased to bear in mind that this is no case of a misconception or a mistake. No young gentleman has been petting and kissing my hand for another’s; no tender speeches have been uttered to the ears they were not meant for. I have been wooed this time for myself, and on my own part I have said Yes.’
‘You told me you had accepted him already. I mean when he was here last.’
‘Yes, after a fashion. Don’t you know, child, that though lawyers maintain that a promise to do a certain thing, to make a lease or some contract, has in itself a binding significance, that in Cupid’s Court this is not law? and the man knew perfectly that all passed between us hitherto had no serious meaning, and bore no more real relation to marriage than an outpost encounter to a battle. For all that has taken place up to this, we might never fight – I mean marry – after all. The sages say that a girl should never believe a man means marriage till he talks money to her. Now, Kate, he talked money; and I believed him.’
‘I wish you would tell me of these things seriously, and without banter.’
‘So I do. Heaven knows I am in no jesting humour. It is in no outburst of high spirits or gaiety a girl confesses she is going to marry a man who has neither wealth nor station to offer, and whose fine connections are just fine enough to be ashamed of him.’
‘Are you in love with him?’
‘If you mean, do I imagine that this man’s affection and this man’s companionship are more to me than all the comforts and luxuries of life with another, I am not in love with him; but if you ask me, am I satisfied to risk my future with so much as I know of his temper, his tastes, his breeding, his habits, and his abilities, I incline to say Yes. Married life, Kate, is a sort of dietary, and one should remember that what he has to eat of every day ought not to be too appetising.’
‘I abhor your theory.’
‘Of course you do, child; and you fancy, naturally enough, that you would like ortolans every day for dinner; but my poor cold Greek temperament has none of the romantic warmth of your Celtic nature. I am very moderate in my hopes, very humble in all my ambitions.’
‘It is not thus I read you.’
‘Very probably. At all events, I have consented to be Mr. Walpole’s wife, and we are to be Minister Plenipotentiary and Special Envoy somewhere. It is not Bolivia, nor the Argentine Republic, but some other fabulous region, where the only fact is yellow fever.’
‘And you really like him?’
‘I hope so, for evidently it must be on love we shall have to live, one half of our income being devoted to saddle-horses and the other to my toilet.’
‘How absurd you are!’
‘No, not I. It is Mr. Walpole himself, who, not trusting much to my skill at arithmetic, sketched out this schedule of expenditure; and then I bethought me how simple this man must deem me. It was a flattery that won me at once. Oh! Kate dearest, if you could understand the ecstasy of being thought, not a fool, but one easily duped, easily deceived!’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘It is this, then, that to have a man’s whole heart – whether it be worth the having is another and a different question – you must impress him with his immense superiority in everything – that he is not merely physically stronger than you, and bolder and more courageous, but that he is mentally more vigorous and more able, judges better, decides quicker, resolves more fully than you; and that, struggle how you will, you pass your life in eternally looking up to this wonderful god, who vouchsafes now and then to caress you, and even say tender things to you.’
‘Is it, Nina, that you have made a study of these things, or is all this mere imagination?’
‘Most innocent young lady! I no more dreamed of these things to apply to such men as your country furnishes – good, homely, commonplace creatures – than I should have thought of asking you to adopt French cookery to feed them. I spoke of such men as one meets in what I may call the real world: as for the others, if they feel life to be a stage, they are always going about in slipshod fashion, as if at rehearsal. Men like your brother and young O’Shea, for instance – tossed here and there by accidents, made one thing by a chance, and something else by a misfortune. Take my word for it, the events of life are very vulgar things; the passions and emotions they evoke, these constitute the high stimulants of existence, they make the gross jeu, which it is so exciting to play.’
‘I follow you with some difficulty; but I am rude enough to own I scarcely regret it.’
‘I know, I know all about that sweet innocence that fancies to ignore anything is to obliterate it; but it’s a fool’s paradise, after all, Kate. We are in the world, and we must accept it as it is made for us.’
‘I’ll not ask, does your theory make you better, but does it make you happier?’
‘If being duped were an element of bliss, I should say certainly not happier, but I doubt the blissful ignorance of your great moralist. I incline to believe that the better you play any game – life amongst the rest – the higher the pleasure it yields. I can afford to marry, without believing my husband to be a paragon – could you do as much?’
‘I should like to know that I preferred him to any one else.’
‘So should I, and I would only desire to add “to every one else that asked me.” Tell the truth, Kate dearest, we are here all alone, and can afford sincerity. How many of us girls marry the man we should like to marry, and if the game were reversed, and it were to be we who should make the choice – the slave pick out his master – how many, think you, would be wedded to their present mates?’
‘So long as we can refuse him we do not like, I cannot think our case a hard one.’
‘Neither should I if I could stand fast at three-and-twenty. The dread of that change of heart and feeling that will come, must come, ten years later, drives one to compromise with happiness, and take a part of what you once aspired to the whole.’
‘You used to think very highly of Mr. Walpole; admired, and I suspect you liked him.’
‘All true – my opinion is the same still. He will stand the great test that one can go into the world with him and not be ashamed of him. I know, dearest, even without that shake of the head, the small value you attach to this, but it is a great element in that droll contract, by which one person agrees to pit his temper against another’s, and which we are told is made in heaven, with angels as sponsors. Mr. Walpole is sufficiently good-looking to be prepossessing, he is well bred, very courteous, converses extremely well, knows his exact place in life, and takes it quietly but firmly. All these are of value to his wife, and it is not easy to over-rate them.’
