CAIN AND ABEL.
Next morning Mr. Curran rode early to the Abbey, with news of the
arrests which he had been powerless to prevent. He looked with an eye
less jaundiced than usual upon the world, for the sea-breeze instilled
fresh life into him, weary and jaded as he was from many causes, and
he felt that he deserved well of her ladyship for saving her son from
a scandal. Though he laughed and joked in company, in private he was
nearly always sad, partly by constitution, partly by reason of the
sights he saw around him; and as he rode along this morning and
meditated concerning his foe Lord Clare, the flecks of sunlight that
chequered his mind vanished, leaving only darkness and despondency
behind. Oh, that chancellor! Would no one free Ireland from a tutelage
which became hourly more oppressive and capricious? Why could not the
innocent conspirators be left alone? Theobald, the whale, was gone.
Sure, naught but stirring up of dirty water could be gained by
harrying the minnows. It was unwise to have locked up the lads with
such a rattling of locks and muskets. The raid upon Tom Emmett's
office, too, was a deplorable proceeding. No new or special charge of
iniquity had been brought against his paper. Yet the place was
ransacked in his absence, his property destroyed, his chairs and
tables tossed out of window as though they carried treason in their
varnish. Lord Clare must be mad, or desperately wicked. If he brought
the country to ruin, it should not be for want of warning. To protest
in parliament is one thing, to argue and implore in private is
another. The little lawyer decided to speak openly to Lord Clare at
their very next meeting, and clinched the matter in his mind with such
a thump of his hunting-crop as caused his pony to leap forward and
nearly throw his master from the saddle.
Madam Gillin and her daughter Norah were gardening as he rode past
their hedge, and the former hallooed to him to stop. Mr. Curran could
scarce forbear laughing at her appearance, so grotesquely serious did
she look in a frayed turban soiled with pomade, and a crumpled frock
of extravagant fashion, from under which peeped a pair of satin
slippers down at heel. It was a thrifty habit with Madam Gillin to
wear out her old quality-clothes at home, for she said that Norah must
have a fine dowry somehow, and that for that purpose it would be
needful to economise. Now her garments and her child's were always of
the flimsiest and most tawdry mode, profusely adorned with feathers
and spangles, trimmed with outrageous frills and furbelows; and the
twain, who did not trouble soap and water unless about to receive
company, might be seen any day over the hedge which divided their
property from the main-road, strutting up and down among the
flower-beds like moulting peacocks or birds of paradise in a decline.
Madam Gillin was lying nervously in wait for news this morning, and
hailed Curran's appearance with relief, for her nurse, Jug Coyle, had
heard of the arrests from frequenters of her shebeen, and vague
rumours were afloat that Terence was among the captured. Oddly enough,
although she had appointed herself guardian in ambush to the younger
son, she had never spoken to him: yet was she well posted in all that
concerned her _protege_ down to minutest details; for were not all the
array of grooms, farriers, dog-boys, foot-boys, tay-boys--what
not?--in the habit of frequenting that too-convenient boozing-ken
whose insidious hospitality was so offensive to their mistress at the
Abbey? This was Madam Gillin's real reason for having established Jug
at the Irish Slave. Through her she commanded an army of spies who,
for a drop of the crather, studied my lady's face, translated her
thoughts, imagined motives, as servants will who are argus-eyed,
imaginative, inquisitive, endowed with a hundred ears. She was true to
her trust of watching over Terence, though she seemed to know nothing
at all about him, resolved, if need were, to do battle on his behalf,
to point the finger of public-opinion at my lady if she behaved badly;
and now she was sore perplexed concerning him, albeit he wist not of a
guardian angel in a dirty old turban and crushed ostrich feathers.
Mr. Curran set her mind at rest, and turned up the avenue which led to
the Abbey. The youth had certainly been present at the meeting,
because the Emmetts were among his closest friends; but he was not
affiliated, he assured her; and both agreed that his imagination must
not be permitted to take fire; that he must never be allowed to become
a member of the society.
When his nag turned the corner of the shrubbery, the little lawyer
found those he sought grouped in front of the hall-door. My lady, in
grey brocade, with a twist of lace through her white hair, was
standing erect with crossed arms, looking with satisfaction at Doreen
and Shane. The girl, though self-willed, had evidently taken her hint,
and was preparing to lay siege to Shane; at least his fond mother
chose to think so, and was deceived, as mothers often are. Just as
grave people, for an idle whim, will turn for a moment from lofty
contemplations to consider a pebble by the wayside, so calm Doreen had
been bitten by a conceit. In her self-examination she had become
convinced, with sorrow, that the part of Judith was beyond her
strength, if Shane was to play Holofernes; and, disgusted with her own
weakness, had permitted her mind to settle on my lady's nickname of
Miss Hoyden. Being proved incapable of supreme sacrifice, she felt a
wrathful desire for self-abasement, and resolved that, if she could
not please her aunt in great things, she would do so at least in
little ones, at the expense of private tastes.
So, to Lady Glandore's surprise, she appeared on this very morning in
fashionable attire, which a week ago she had haughtily declined to
wear; a sumptuous high-waisted percale, broidered in forget-me-nots,
with great puffed sleeves and tight short skirt; low shoes of blue
satin with wide strings; her beautiful hair in a straight sheet down
her back, plaited together with straw, as the prevailing fashion was.
Perched on the top of her head was a dainty straw bonnet, fit only for
a fairy, and she looked under it, with her thoughtful brown face and
solemn eyes, like some lovely victim tricked out in incongruous
frippery, who was destined to figure in some Hibernian _auto-da-fe_.
'Young ladies of a strong-minded and serious turn do evidently not
array themselves in wonderful garments without a reason,' so my lady
argued. 'Neither do they descend to coquetry, save for the snaring of
young men. Whom could Miss Wolfe desire to snare, if not her cousin
Shane?'
This was well--extremely well. Unhappily, the young lord was not
struck with the bonnet, or with the forget-me-nots. His mother saw
that she would have to guide his attention to his cousin's
blandishments.
Alack! he was in no mood to play the lover, being prosaically
engrossed with a throbbing brow and swollen tongue. Shane, although he
had 'made his head,' and could drink claret against most people, was
apt to feel faded of a morning, and to retaliate for physical ills
upon the first person who came within his reach. Last night he had
presided over the Blasters, had shattered a decanter on the pate of a
gentleman who presumed to breathe hard in his presence, and who, of
course, had challenged him to fight. So far so good; but the stranger
had shown himself so ill-bred as absolutely to decline to draw his
sword till certain business matters could be arranged, and so the
meeting was perforce postponed for a few hours--a most rude and
inconsiderate proceeding! For might not the champion Blaster, the
admirable Hellfire, the Prince of Cherokees, have other work upon his
hands before dinner-time? And besides, though money-debts may wait for
months without a smirching of the niceties of honour, it is a bad
example for the multitude to allow duels to accumulate. Moreover,
Shane had promised, as it happened, to promenade with the Gillins, in
the Beaux Walk, on this particular afternoon. Even an Irish earl
cannot, like Roche's bird, be in two places at a time; and so the
youthful fire-eater fretted and fumed, cross with himself and
everybody else, heedless of his cousin's bonnet, and longed to force a
quarrel upon some one.
Terence was seated a few yards off, on the steps of the young men's
wing, which led to his own apartment, giving some directions to his
private henchman with regard to the manufacture of flies. Now and then
he threw a displeased glance at his pretty cousin, marvelling for
whose behoof she had made herself so bewitching, and then, gnawed by
carking jealousy, turned to vent his spleen upon his servant.
But honest Phil only grinned as he twined the bright feathers with a
skilful hand, nor heeded his master's ill-humour; for was he not his
foster-brother, who loved the ground he trod on with the blind
devotion of a clansman? He had been brought up with Terence at a
respectful distance, had learnt Bible-stories with him from the tiles
about the hearth, and made himself generally useful as he increased in
years. Nothing came amiss to him. He could farry, cure a cow of the
murrain, tin a saucepan, dance a jig, knit a stocking, sing a cronane
against any young fellow in the county. There was nothing he would not
do for Master Terence. He followed at his heels like a dog, looking
into his eyes for orders as dogs do, bearing his whims and caprices
with stoical endurance, as we bear the wind that blows on us. He was a
type, was Phil, of a creature who vanished with the century; who,
sharp and clever enough, professed to no intellect of his own, and was
content to be led in all things by another. His attire under all
circumstances was the same. A green plush coat, a scarlet vest, and
buckskin breeches. A black leather hunting-cap was always, in or out
of doors, cocked on one side of his shock head. Some people said he
went to bed in it. In his capacity of farrier, he invariably carried a
firing-iron as a walking-stick; so that what with the angel in ambush
in the dirty finery, and the athletic follower with the firing-iron,
Terence Crosbie may be said to have been well protected, even in days
when none were out of danger.
The Abbey party had also heard of the arrests, and were all equally
pleased when Curran's figure turned the corner of the drive--the queer
squat figure which all Dublin looked on with respect, with its
tightly-buttoned high-collared coat, snuffy wave of loose necktie,
white kerseymere breeches, and top-boots.
'Yes,' he said, in answer to a chorus of inquiries, 'the evil rumour
was too true. He had ridden over early to beg my lady to interfere on
behalf of the young people. Her influence over the chancellor was
great. The father of the Emmetts had been state-physician, and, as
such, had often prescribed draughts for the countess's household.
Would she try to save his sons from peril?'
'No, she would not. Lord Clare doubtless had the best motives for what
he did, and it would be unseemly in the associate of his leisure-hours
to meddle in state affairs. It was plain that the scum must be kept in
their place, or what would become of the nobles? The abrogation of the
Penal Code was the wild fantasy of optimists; for you might as well
give power to monkeys as to Catholics. It could not, should not, be
altered or lightened, for the safety of the dominant minority depended
on the Penal Code. The French disgrace of '89 would never have
appalled Europe, if the King had been less soft-hearted.'
So spake my lady, in her most majestic way, and Curran, as he smiled
at the kindly, narrow-minded woman, thought she looked more like Queen
Bess than ever. There was no help to be expected from this quarter for
the poor fellows; Doreen's stern face convinced him of that much. He
must even buckle on his armour and have at Lord Clare in person, when
the first opportunity offered.
Terence's brow darkened as his chief talked of the arrests, and of the
outrage at Tone's offices. If the chancellor was personally
responsible for the ill-judged performance, then was he distinctly in
the wrong. Might there be some truth in the pile of accusations which
were being heaped upon the minister in power?
My lady's high-flown babble jarred on his nerves. Is there anything
more painful than hearing one you love and respect talking nonsense?
But no! It was not possible that the chancellor should be acting as he
did without good reason. We are all apt to jump at conclusions and to
blame people, without seeking first for motives which may not happen
to lie upon the surface. Terence tried to shake off his suspicions,
and succeeded to a certain extent, moved thereto, possibly, by feeling
Doreen's scrutiny fixed on him. When she appeared on the terrace in
her strange costume, she found the brothers at high words, and
reproved them straightway. Shane had used bad language in an
undertone; Terence had blushed, and hung his head. There was thunder
in the air, which the damsel had striven to dissipate. She was looking
anxiously on now, fearful of a collision of antagonistic elements, and
bit her lips and stamped her little foot as Shane turned crossly to
the visitor.
'Is it true, Curran,' he asked, with dyspeptic peevishness, 'that my
brother was with those rascals? I've asked him more than once, but it
seems he's afraid to confess.'
'Afraid!' Terence cried, as white as ashes; then, catching his
cousin's eye, he went back, with set teeth, to his fly-making.
'I ought to have said _ashamed_,' apologised his languid lordship. 'I
presume that, being a Crosbie, you are capable of feeling shame? Or
not? You are so queer, I think you were changed at birth.'
'To please _me_, be quiet,' implored Miss Wolfe, with an earnestness
which charmed my lady. 'You two are perpetually squabbling!'
'It is not my fault,' Terence grumbled, crushing his fingers together
to keep down his ire. 'Never think, please, that I am afraid of you,
Shane. We cannot be afraid of that which we despise. If I am queer,
you are more so. I did not answer, because I don't choose that you
should interfere with me; but there is no reason why I should not. I
was at Robert's chambers last night. What then? The purity of that
handful of fellows shines out through the general darkness in a way
that enforces one's respect. I do not say that they may not be carried
too far, but sometimes they make me loathe myself and you and all my
belongings; for in the abstract we are bad, and deserve any
retribution which may fall on us.'
'Better join them,' sneered Shane, with a feverish hand upon his
throbbing temples. 'When they confiscate this property, maybe they'll
make you a present of it with the title. Oh, my head!'
'Yes, I was there,' continued Terence, doggedly; 'and they spoke
wisdom mixed with folly--with more of the one and less of the other
than you are accustomed to bestow on us. I do not mind admitting that
I wish I'd stopped. Maybe they'll think that, knowing what was going
to happen, I sneaked away, and then I shall lose their esteem.'
'Oho! What a delectable conspirator!' laughed my lord, cooling his
aching head against the wall, while the cicatrice on his forehead grew
red, and an evil glitter shone in his eyes. 'Love and esteem, eh? And
how about mine? Will ye take a corner of that?'
With a spiteful movement he flicked a square of cambric at his
brother, who placed his hands behind him and drew back; for the
insulting action, innocent in itself, was one much in vogue for egging
on a quarrel.
My lady turned as white as Terence, while she cried out hastily:
'Shane! what are you doing?'
Doreen looked on distressed, and Curran sighed, while honest Phil was
too discreetly busy with his hackles to note anything that passed.
'Shane, how dare you, before my face!' said his mother; then, her
anger kindling, she turned sharply on her younger son. 'It is your
fault. You know how easily provoked he is. I cannot wonder at his
being shocked by your behaviour.'
'I too, mother, am easily provoked,' Terence answered, his brow black
with frowns.
'As I have said before, more than once, though you take no heed, you
disgrace yourself by the society you keep. The Emmetts are well
enough--I say nothing to the contrary, for indeed their father was a
worthy man. But I am told that some of these people are linen-drapers.
Is it fitting that a Crosbie should associate with tradesmen? They act
blindly because they are low and do not know better, but the same
cannot be said of you.'
My lady's lecture broke down, for whilst speaking of low people she
remembered that her favourite Shane also was addicted to low company.
Alas! she knew too well that he was the beloved of tavern-roysterers
and petticoat-pensioners, who wept oily drops of maudlin affection
over his drunken generosity, and that that smart zebra-suit of
his--yellow and crimson striped--had not been donned to captivate his
family.
If Shane was easily provoked, which was very true, he was also as
easily bored as his father. Rising with a gesture of impatience to
retire from the field, he cried out:
'There, there! what a pother, to be sure! I was only in joke. To hear
your clatter, mother, one would think the house was burning. If
Terence likes linen-drapers, I have no objection, but I can't admire
his taste. Faugh! He's no better than a _half-mounted!_'
'Mother,' whispered Terence, trembling, 'do you stand by and hear
him?'
But my lady made as though she was unaware of this fresh taunt, though
it was a dreadful one. What a fearful thing for the head of a noble
house to brand his heir-presumptive with being a 'half-mounted!' Now
the half-mounted were a distinct class--a reckless feckless crew, each
of whom possessed little beyond his horse and suit of clothes; who had
no principles or education; who existed by pandering to the vices of
their betters. They kept the ground at horse-races, helped a lord to
steal a wench, knocked down her male relations, and made themselves
generally agreeable; in return for which they were tolerated, supplied
with bed and board, and treated to as much claret as they could carry.
They swarmed, not to be industrious like the working bee, but to
consume like the drone, and to do mischief like the wasp. This class
it was which in '97 and '98 developed into the royalist yeomanry--the
bully band of licentious executioners who did the filthy work which
was disdained by English soldiers. A noble was described by the
peasantry at this time as 'a gentleman to the backbone;' a landed
squire as 'a gentleman every inch of him.' The younger sons of one of
these, restrained as they were by gentility from any but three
professions, sank more often than not into the habits of dissolute
idleness to which young Ireland was constitutionally prone, and
dwindled into the condition of the 'half-mounted,' whose career was
usually closed by a tap from a shillalagh in a brawl, or an attack of
delirium tremens. Therefore, that Terence should be accused of being
one of the swashbucklers by his overbearing brother cut him to the
quick, while it roused as well the anger of the man who was as a
second father to him. Mr. Curran might possibly have given the earl a
bit of his mind, and so have hammered such a breach 'twixt the two
families as both would have deplored in equal measure, had not happily
a huge golden coach come rumbling round the corner at this moment,
whose gorgeousness attracted general attention, and diverted the
thoughts of the group into another channel.
Its body glistened in the sun like brass. Each door-panel was adorned
by an allegorical picture by Mr. Hamilton, R.A. A posse of sculptured
cupids on the roof groaned under an enormous coronet; Wisdom and
Justice, carved and gilded, supported the coachman on either side;
while Commerce and Industry stretched forth their cornucopiae behind
and clasped their hands together around the footmen's legs. A
triumphal car it was, blazing with gold and colour, enriched with
velvet and embroidery, weighed down with gilded figures, dragged along
by six black horses sumptuously caparisoned. This was my Lord Clare's
new coach, which had cost him no less than four thousand guineas--the
outward and visible sign of his amazing arrogance and splendour. The
party on the steps stood wonder-stricken; but what surprised Curran
even more than the magnificent carriage, was the presence of the
person within it, who sat beside the chancellor. It was Cassidy, the
jolly giant, whom report said to be in durance vile. He was released
then. So were, of course, the others, and Lord Clare had remedied his
blunder before its effects could be seriously felt. So much the
better. Such gladness of heart was the little lawyer's that he forgot
all about the half-mounted, and proceeded to congratulate his enemy.
'I don't understand,' the latter drawled, looking down from under
half-closed lids. 'Mr. Cassidy is out because there was really nothing
against him, and his excellency talks of freeing the others by-and-by,
except Emmett, who is a ringleader--a beast who must be caged.'
Curran felt a twinge of disappointment. 'A man who must be made a
martyr!' he retorted. 'If you leave him languishing, and free the
rest, the injustice of the proceeding will set them plotting more than
ever. That which is now but a heat-spot may be irritated into a
prevailing gangrene. Mind, I have warned you. Yet how idle is it! Such
tricks as yours may be expected from a renegade!'
The last words were muttered to himself, yet Lord Clare heard them,
but pretended not to do so, as it was always his policy to excite his
adversary whilst keeping his own temper.
'I assure you I am powerless,' he remarked blandly. 'The Privy
Council----'
'Potent, grave, and reverend seniors!' scoffed the other;
'scene-shifters and candle-snuffers from Smock Ally, robed in old
curtains!'
'These turbulent fellows would destroy the Constitution, my good
Curran.'
'Turbulent! A pack of boys! What does not exist cannot be destroyed. A
Commons chosen by the people who hold thereby the strings of the
public purse--that is the first principle of a constitution. The sham
you prate about is, as you know right well, deluged with corruption,
flooded with iniquity, a mere puppet in your hands, Lord Clare. How
sad it is that the vital interests of millions should be sacrificed to
the vices of an individual! You, and such as you, who have risen from
small things to a place in the Upper House, should unite the nobles
and the people instead of trying to estrange them. But no, you think
of none except yourself. Erin is divided between the slaves of your
dominion, the servants of your patronage, the enemies of your tyranny.
Your ambition will wreck us all. Your monument shall be the execration
of your motherland--the curse of a ruined race your requiem!'
Lord Clare's impudent leer was doing its work, for Curran, with every
moment, grew more chafed.
'Really, our friend is quite amusing!' exclaimed the chancellor,
pleasantly. 'Your ladyship's jester assumes all the license which
custom accords to such persons. I confess that his exuberance bears me
down, for the art of managing foolish people is as distinct and
arduous as that of governing lunatics.'
'Whenever I see a man treat the world as if it were made of fools,'
sneered Curran, 'I suspect him instantly to be a knave.'
'Very pretty!' laughed the other. 'Parliament, my good fellow----'
'Parliament!' echoed his foe. 'You are always ringing the changes on
parliament and constitution in a jangle that means nothing. Your
parliament has as much to do with the country as a corpse with a
crowner's quest. The rulers of this unhappy land have played bowls
with the constitution. Our experience of government is through the
vices of its shifting plunderers, instead of the paternal protection
of its sovereign--harpies who encamp awhile, then retire laden with
spoil--all save one, who, to our grief, is bone of our bone, flesh of
our flesh. That one, my lord, is splendid indeed--by the grandeur of
his infamy--for he never knew shame or decency or conscience! He is
double-faced; a traitor to that which he should love most in all the
world. He degrades his talent to the vilest uses, and invents sham
dangers to hide real ones. Like the sailor who, to possess himself of
a bag of money, tossed a burning brand into the hold, he cries "Fire,
fire!" to divert attention from himself.'
'Really, really, my lady!' laughed the chancellor, with constraint,
'your jester improves daily. He wallows in imagery as the swine in
mire. My good fellow, I fail to follow your meanderings, though I seem
to apprehend that you are cross about these arrests? I have naught to
do with them--will you be more comfortable if I swear it?--but I must
admit, while doing so, that I am no advocate for ill-judged leniency.'
'If a man is so poor a rider as to cling to his nag by the spurs, he
must needs apply a strong curb to control the madness he provokes.'
'And I am that rider? Thank you. Your ladyship's palace resembles the
home of the tranced Beauty. It is grievously begirt with thorns and
stinging-nettles. I vow I know not why our dear Curran nourishes such
asperity against me, for I never did him a favour. But there, there!
He's politically insane. A mountebank with one half his talent for
rant would make his fortune!'
'Were I one, my lord,' returned Curran, with a bow, 'so presumptuous
as to set my little head against the opinions of a nation, I should be
glad if folks said I were insane!'
Lord Clare's cheeks were beginning to be unusually rosy, for Doreen
gazed at him with undisguised contempt, and my lady was evidently
amused in a half-malicious way at the encounter.
'If you think,' he said loftily, 'that it will help you into
consequence, you are welcome to bespatter me; but be assured that I
value you so little, either as a lawyer or a man, that I must decline
to address you further till you learn manners.'
Lord Glandore was enchanted, and almost forgot his headache, for he
sniffed a good duel in the wind, and was an artist in such matters.
'I desired to plead with you against yourself,' the little man said
stiffly, 'wherein I was a fool, because your heart, as we know, is
ice. Nay, I have done; for I may not carry on a conflict wherein
victory can bring no honour!'
The countess smiled with thin lips, as Bess may have smiled when
Leicester and Essex were bickering. The fact of these sworn foes being
constantly here together, was in itself an indirect compliment to her
fascinations. Bowing low to her ladyship, Curran trudged across to the
stable-yard, whither his pony had trotted before; and Terence, from
whose face the devil had been peeping ever since the speech about the
half-mounted, followed him in silence thither.
Lord Clare flicked the dust from his pink silk stockings, and plumed
himself complacently, as a hawk does after a tussle with some
formidable fowl.
'Fore Gad, my lady,' he said, 'you are too indulgent. That animal must
be banished from your menagerie, for he is too rough a bear!'
'A good man and true!' returned my lady, with decision; 'despite his
sharp tongue and unprepossessing shell. He was hard on you, touching
you on the raw, and you got the worst of it, and flew in a passion,
and were rude, though you pride yourself upon your temper. You must
make it up before you sit down to breakfast.'
Terence found his chief standing over his pony, a prey to violent
agitation.
'My boy,' he cried out at once, 'I must have a blaze at that rascal!'
'What rascal?' asked the other, who, wounded by his mother's
indifference, was brooding on his own trouble.
'There's but one rascal in the world, and his name's Clare! I'll make
a window through him, I will, with sword or pistol, as suits him best.
Go and tell him so.'
'Most obliging, no doubt,' said Terence, with a half-smile; 'but you
must refrain this time, for my sake. Indeed, you employed language
such as sure never before was used to a lord chancellor. If he
survives your words, no bullet can affect him.'
'It's no use!' persisted the little man, shivering like an aspen; 'I
shan't sleep until I shoot that rascal.'
But Terence passed his arm affectionately within his, and Curran
perceived that there was something amiss with him.
'You have other duties, my old friend,' the young man sighed. 'Come,
come--you must be dignified.'
'Is it I?' returned the other, rubbing his nose ruefully. 'I fear
dignity is a robe which he who would box must lay aside during the
sparring. Maybe, when the fight's done, he'll find that it has been
stolen during the battle! A fig for dignity! I'd rather have a blaze.'
'No!' pursued the young man, mournfully. 'For my sake, you will
abandon this quarrel. I must leave this house, and to whose should I
fly if not to yours? I must go away, for this can be borne no longer.
There is a limit to human patience, and mine is a small allowance.'
'Do nothing rashly,' Curran urged.
'I tell you I cannot bear it,' the young man retorted with vehemence.
'Who knows to what I might be tempted if Shane should go too far? I
tell you I dare not trust myself. And my mother has no sympathy for
me, as you saw; for she was superbly indifferent when he threw that
insult in my teeth. What cares she if I am insulted or not? Such words
from another man, and I would have sprung at his throat at once. When
we fear temptation, it is best to run away from it.'
Curran reflected for a moment, and then grunted:
'Boy! Coriolanus replied to his pleading parent, "Mother, you have
conquered." To oblige you, I will not shoot Lord Clare.'
'I thank you for making an old woman of me!' Terence replied, with a
tinge of humour. 'My conduct was somewhat like a woman's, I confess,
for sure no man should bear so great an insult, even from a brother!'
'You know best,' the little man said, patting his companion's shoulder
fondly. 'But it seems sad thus to shake off the dust of your ancestral
home. Maybe, if he sees you won't be put upon, my lord may grow more
civil. Shane no doubt is trying, and you are a warm-complexioned young
gentleman. Having no son, I would gladly take you to fill the vacant
place, as no one knows better than yourself. You shall stay with me
for a few months, and I'll speak to her ladyship about my lord, who
must be taught to cultivate a civil tongue and apologise; for there
must be no open rupture between you. We'll say it's for convenience'
sake, as I want to make a great lawyer of you. There are briefs you
must study for me, and they pour in, you know. How'll I get through
the papers at all at all, unless I have my junior near me?'
And thus the matter was settled between them, while the elder wondered
what Mrs. Gillin would think of the arrangement. She must be
hoodwinked without delay to prevent mischief, or she would come
clamouring up to the Abbey in her quality-clothes, and all the fat
would be in the fire at once.
Hearing a light footstep on the gravel, Terence turned, and a pang
shot through his heart as he beheld his cousin. It was dreadful to
leave her behind, in the maw as it were of Shane. Yet what difference
could his absence make to one who treated him so scurvily? And those
smart garments, too--that aggravatingly bewitching bonnet--for whose
behoof were they intended? Not for his, certainly. All things
considered, it was best that he should go.
Meanwhile my lady calmly discussed a late breakfast in the oak parlour
with Lord Clare, unconscious that the behaviour of her sons had been
more indecorous than usual, while the originator of the quarrel
trifled languidly with an egg, speculating about time and place,
whether the duel between Curran and the chancellor was to be with
sword or pistol. Why not directly after breakfast in the rosary? a
capital spot, sheltered from wind and observation. Terence would of
course be Curran's second; Cassidy here, who had been hanging about in
a deprecatory manner, first on one leg, then on the other, would be
the chancellor's; while he, my lord, would see fair play. An excellent
arrangement. Then the combatants might amicably return together to
Dublin in the golden coach to set about the business of the day.
Having settled the party of pleasure to his liking and reviewed its
details, the King of the Cherokees was no little disgusted to see Mr.
Curran enter presently and take his seat as if nothing had happened.
My lady, on the other hand, was mightily relieved, for she liked the
two almost equally well, leaning a little perhaps to the side of the
chancellor, on account of his polish and fine manners. She was not
blind to the faults of either of her friends. Clare, she knew,
despised literature, in which Curran delighted. He disdained the arts
of winning; was sullen sometimes, and always overbearing; and when he
condescended to be jocular was usually offensive. But then he was a
dazzling light. Curran was particularly interesting to the stately
countess by reason of his marvellous energy and originality. He was
quicksilver--surcharged with life--restless, sparkling, bewildering;
and it amused her to try to control his erratic movements. Many a time
she lectured, in private, Curran with reference to Clare--Clare with
regard to Curran.
The latter was in the habit of deploring that the former was a patriot
lost, seduced by England, because of his aristocratic proclivities. A
patriot cannot be a courtier, he constantly declared. The ways of the
aristocracy grow more brutal and more reckless with impunity; the
coarseness of their debauchery would have disgusted the crew of Comus;
their drunkenness, their blasphemy, their ferocity, have left the
ignorant English squires far behind. To this the countess would reply
(who knew little of the Dublin _monde_, living as she did a retired
life) that he was biassed by the prejudice of his Irish slovenliness,
in that he could not look upon a man as honest who wore clean linen
and velvet small-clothes. And so the friendly conflict would go on,
one scoring a point and then the other, one breaking into rage and the
other apologising; and so the incongruous cronies wrangled along the
road of life, battling with the breezes which blew round them, whether
from east or west.
Mr. Curran sat down to his breakfast as if nothing had happened,
tucking a napkin into his vest, and handing my Lord Clare, with biting
amiability, the salt or the butter or the bread, while my lady marked
with satisfaction that this tempest was but a squall. That the chairs
of Terence and her niece should remain unoccupied was a matter of no
moment, for the former was probably sulky after his snubbing; while as
for Doreen, her conduct was always more or less improper. Perhaps her
serene ladyship would have been ruffled if she could have looked on
them in the stable-yard, for they were standing very close together,
the one subdued by the prospect of leaving his home for the first
time, the other saddened with thinking of the arrests.
They stood very close together, oblivious of the morning meal; and
Terence caressed the moist muzzles of the hounds with lingering
fingers, while his cousin observed that an interesting air of sadness
suited him. A too healthy look, a too ruddy cheek, are to be
deprecated as unfavourable to romance; yet is there a peculiar and
specially captivating interest about a humdrum exterior with a blight
on it. Terence was too fat and sleek; unheroic, prosaic to an absurd
degree. At least his cousin chose to think so as she looked at him.
Then she glanced down at her own fine raiment with disgust, and hated
prosperity. What right had she to flaunt in delicate muslins while her
people were in bondage? Sackcloth and ashes would become her better,
now that the last champions of her faith were pining in duress. As for
the youth here, it was only fitting that he should be fat and sleek;
for was he not a Protestant, one of the oppressors? What was his
trouble to her trouble--sorrow for a race ground down? True, his
mother loved him not, and his brother was inconsiderate. He should
have spoken boldly, putting his foot down as Doreen would have done,
though his was big and hers was tiny--demanding at least some sort of
respectful consideration, instead of wrapping himself in injured airs
as he proposed to do. And as the thought passed through her mind it
was touched by a tinge of self; for if Terence were to go away, one of
the safeguards of his cousin's peace would slip from her. With the
instinct of intrigue, which is planted in the staidest of female
bosoms, she had determined that the best way, perhaps, of
counteracting her aunt's eccentric marriage scheme would be to play
one brother off against the other. As to a match with Shane, that was
out of the question; to marry Terence would be equally undesirable.
Even now, the wistful humility with which he surveyed her fairy bonnet
was conducive only to laughter. He did not care for her any more than
she cared for him--of course not. But is it not _de rigueur_ for
youths to sigh intermittently after domesticated cousins till the
moment for the _grande passion_ arrives, when they breathe like
furnaces and threaten to fling themselves out of windows? His was
clearly a case of primary intermittent fever, which was not a serious
cause for alarm; and the damsel was quite justified in employing its
vagaries for the protection of her own peace. My lady's project, she
considered, would tumble to pieces in time through inherent weakness.
Till that auspicious moment arrived it would be necessary to stave off
a crisis. It was merely a matter of time--a brief struggle between two
strong wills, in which my lady would succumb, as she invariably did
when pitted against her stubborn niece. For this reason it was
annoying that Terence should go away, and Doreen felt tempted to
employ such arts as she might, without being unmaidenly, for the
prevention of a family split. She said therefore, with a distracting
glance of her brown eyes, while eager muzzles wormed into her hand:
'Is this quite irrevocable? The house will be so dull without you.'
'I would stay if you really wished it,' blurted out the inflammable
youth, pinching a cold nose till the dog--its owner--broke away
howling. 'You know there is nothing I would not do to please you,
Doreen!'
'Is there not?' she returned, with a ring of bitterness, for she was
too straightforward to feel aught but impatience for idle
protestations. 'To please me, would you give up all for Erin, as
Theobald has done? No--you would not. A fine-weather sailor, Terence!
_You_ give up anything, who have all your life been lapped in
luxury--and why should you? Thanks to Mr. Curran, the legal ball is at
your foot, and you only need to work to become rich and happy. But I
shall be sorry to miss your bright face, for all that.'
A second flash, as of a burn in sunlight, carried the lad beyond his
usual prudence. With disconcerting suddenness he seized her hand and
brought his flushed cheek close to hers.
'Doreen!' he gasped. 'If you will love me and be my wife, I will do
anything and bear anything. You've only to direct. I'm poor I know,
but I will work, for I am capable of better things if I have an
object.'
But Miss Wolfe, though far from a coquette, was gifted with presence
of mind. Her intention had been not to provoke an untoward declaration
such as would exasperate her aunt, and, possibly, Lord Glandore; but
to use this impulsive swain as a bulwark of protection against the
assaults of my lady. Perchance, under the circumstances, it was better
that he should depart for a few months to cool his too explosive
ardour. It would not do to encourage, nor yet to quarrel with him. She
escaped from him therefore, holding up her pretty hands, and said
demurely:
'Of course, if Mr. Curran really wishes it, you had better obey. It is
a long ride for you every morning from the Abbey to the Four-courts.'
The Priory, on the other side of Dublin, was about the same distance
from the Four-courts, Terence thought with anger. The girl was playing
with him, as she always did.
'I hope Sara will make you comfortable,' she went on. 'No doubt she
will, she is so sweet a girl. Then we shall meet at Castle balls, and
you shall lead me out for a rigadoon like a mere stranger. That will
be funny, will it not? You don't mean what you say one bit, and it is
a relief to me to know that it is all flummery--you silly, hot-pated,
blarneying Pat! Come along. We will go and eat our breakfast and be
thankful that we have one to eat, instead of talking nonsense. That is
all that you or I are fit for, I am afraid! For it is not such as you
nor I who are destined to save poor Ireland!'