It would be even more wearisome to my reader than the fact was worrying
to myself, were I to recount the steps by which my father communicated
to Lady Charlotte the intended marriages, and finally obtained her
consent to both. Fortunately, for some time previous she had been
getting tired of Paris, and was soon brought to suppose that these
little family arrangements were as much 'got up' to afford her an
agreeable surprise and a healthful stimulant to her weak nerves as for
any other cause whatever.'
With Mrs. Rooney, on the other hand, there was considerable difficulty.
The holy alliance she had contracted with the sovereigns had suggested
so much of grandeur to her expectations that she dreamed of nothing but
archdukes and counts of the empire, and was at first quite inexorable
at the bare idea of the _mésalliance_ that awaited her ward. A chance
decided what resisted every species of argument. Corny Delany, who had
been sent with a note to Mr. Rooney, happened to be waiting in the hall
while Mrs. Rooney passed out to her carriage escorted by the 'Tartar'
of whom we have already made mention. Mrs. Rooney was communicating her
orders to her bearded attendant by a code of signals on her fingers,
when Corny, who watched the proceeding with increasing impatience,
exclaimed--
'Arrah, can't you tell the man what you want? Sure, though you have him
dressed like a wild baste, he doesn't forget English.'
[Illustration: 3-208]
It is a Tartar!' said Mrs. Rooney, with a contemptuous sneer at Corny
and a forbidding wave of her hand ordaining silence.
'A Tarther! Oh, blessed Timothy! there's a name for one that comes of
dacent people! He's a county Oarlow man, and well known he is in the
same parts. Many a writ he served--eh, Tim?'
'Tim!' said Mrs. Rooney, in horror, as she beheld her wild-looking
friend grin from ear to ear, with a most fearful significance of what he
heard.
'It wasn't my fault, ma'am, at all,' said the Tartar, with a very Dublin
accent in the words; 'it was the master made me.'
What further explanation Tim might have afforded it is difficult to say,
for Mrs. Rooney's nerves had received too severe and too sudden a shock.
A horrible fear lest all the kingly and royal personages by whom she had
been for some weeks surrounded might only turn out to be Garlow men, or
something as unsubstantial, beset her; a dreadful unbelief of everything
and everybody seized upon her, and quite overcome, she fainted. O'Grady,
who happened to come up at the instant, learned the whole secret at
once, and with his wonted readiness resolved to profit by it. Mrs. Paul
returned to the drawing-room, and ere half an hour was fully persuaded
that as General Hinton was about to depart for Ireland as Commander of
the Forces, the alliance was on the whole not so deplorable as she had
feared.
To reconcile so many conflicting interests, to conciliate so many
totally opposite characters, was a work I should completely have failed
in without O'Grady's assistance. He, however, entered upon it _con
amore_; and under his auspices, not only did Lady Charlotte receive the
visits of Father Tom Loftus, but Mr. Paul became actually a favourite
with my cousin Julia; and, finally, the grand catastrophe of the drama
was accomplished, and my lady-mother proceeded in all state to wait on
Mrs. Rooney herself, who, whatever her previous pretensions, was so awed
by the condescension of her ladyship's manner that she actually struck
her colours at the first broadside.
Weddings are stupid things in reality, but on paper they are detestable.
Not even the _Morning Post_ can give them a touch of interest. I shall
not, then, trouble my reader with any narrative of white satin and
orange-flowers, bouquets, breakfasts, and Bishop Luscombe; neither shall
I entertain him with the article in the French _Feuilleton_ as to
which of the two brides was the more strictly beautiful, and which more
lovely.
Having introduced my reader to certain acquaintances--some of them
rather equivocal ones, I confess--I ought perhaps to add a word of their
future fortunes.
Mr. Ulick Burke escaped to America, where, by the exercise of his
abilities and natural sharpness, he accumulated a large fortune, and
distinguished by his anti-English prejudices, became a leading member of
Congress.
Of Lord Dudley de Vere I only know that he has lived long enough, if not
to benefit by experience, to take advantage of Lord Brougham's change in
the law of imprisonment for debt. I saw his name in a late number of
the _Times_, with a debt of some fifteen thousand annexed to it, against
which his available property was eleven pounds odd shillings.
Father Loftus sleeps in Murranakilty. No stone marks his resting-place;
but not a peasant's foot, for many a mile round, has not pressed the
little pathway that leads to his grave, to offer up a prayer for a good
man and a friend to the poor.
Tipperary Joe is still to be met on the Kilkenny road. His old red coat,
now nearly russet colour, is torn and ragged; the top-boots have given
place to bare legs, as well tanned as their predecessors; but his merry
voice and cheerful 'Tally-ho!' are still as rich as of yore, and his
heart, poor fellow! as light as ever it was.
Corny Delany is the amiable proprietor of a hotel in the neighbourhood
of Castlebar, where his habitual courtesy and amenity are as conspicuous
as of yore. He has requested me to take this opportunity of recommending
his establishment to the 'Haythins and Turks' that yearly perform tours
in his vicinity.
The Rooneys live, and are as hospitable as ever. I dare not venture to
give their address, lest you should take advantage of the information.
O'Grady and his wife are now at Malta.
Jack Hinton and his are, as they have every right to be--
Your very grateful and obedient Servants.
My dear Friends,--You must often have witnessed, in the half-hour which
preludes departure from a dinner-party, the species of quiet bustle
leave-taking produces. The low-voiced announcement of Mr. Somebody's
carriage, the whispered good-night, the bow, the slide, the half-pressed
finger--and he is gone. Another and another succeed him, and the few who
linger on turn ever towards the opening door, and while they affect to
seem at ease, are cursing their coachman and wondering at the delay.
The position of the host on such an occasion is precisely that of the
author at the close of a volume. The same doubts are his whether the
entertainment he has provided has pleased his guests; whether the
persons he has introduced to one another are mutually satisfied. And,
finally, the same solitude which visits him who 'treads alone some
banquet-hall deserted' settles down upon the weary writer who watches
one by one the spirits he has conjured up depart for ever, and, worse
still, sees the tie snapped that for so long a period has bound him to
his readers; and while they have turned to other and newer sources of
amusement, he is left to brood over the time when they walked together,
and his voice was heard amongst them.
Like all who look back, he sees how much better he could have done
were he again to live over the past. He regrets many an opportunity of
interesting you lost for ever, many an occasion to amuse you which may
never occur again. It is thus that somehow--insensibly, I believe--a
kind of sadness creeps over one at the end of a volume; misgivings as to
success mingle with sorrows for the loss of our accustomed studies; and,
altogether, the author is little to be envied, who, having enjoyed your
sympathy and good wishes for twelve months, finds himself at last at
the close of the year at the limit of your kindness, and obliged to say
'Good-bye,' even though it condemns him to solitude.
I did wish, before parting with you at this season, to justify myself
before you for certain things which my critics have laid to my charge;
but on second thoughts I have deemed it better to say nothing, lest by
my defence against manslaughter a new indictment should be framed, and
convict me of murder.
Such is the simple truth. The faults, the very great faults, of my book
I am as well aware of as I feel myself unable to correct them. But in
justice to my monitors I must say, that they have less often taken me up
when tripping than when I stood erect upon good and firm ground. Yet let
me be grateful for all their kindness, which for critics is certainly
long-lived; and that I may still continue for a season to enjoy their
countenance and yours is the most sincere desire of your very devoted
servant,
Harry Lorrequer.
P.S.--A bashful friend desires an introduction to you. May I present Tom
Burke, of Ours? H. L.
THE END