Miss Carew, averse to the anomalous relations of courtship, made as
little delay as possible in getting married. Cashel’s luck was not
changed by the event. Bingley Byron died three weeks after the ceremony
(which was civic and private); and Cashel had to claim possession of the
property in Dorsetshire, in spite of his expressed wish that the lawyers
would take themselves and the property to the devil, and allow him
to enjoy his honeymoon in peace. The transfer was not, however,
accomplished at once. Owing to his mother’s capricious reluctance to
give the necessary information without reserve, and to the law’s delay,
his first child was born some time before his succession was fully
established and the doors of his ancestral hall opened to him. The
conclusion of the business was a great relief to his attorneys, who had
been unable to shake his conviction that the case was clear enough,
but that the referee had been squared. By this he meant that the Lord
Chancellor had been bribed to keep him out of his property.
His marriage proved an unusually happy one. To make up for the loss of
his occupation, he farmed, and lost six thousand pounds by it;
tried gardening with better success; began to meddle in commercial
enterprises, and became director of several trading companies in the
city; and was eventually invited to represent a Dorsetshire constituency
in Parliament in the Radical interest. He was returned by a large
majority; and, having a loud voice and an easy manner, he soon
acquired some reputation both in and out of the House of Commons by the
popularity of his own views, and the extent of his wife’s information,
which he retailed at second hand. He made his maiden speech in the House
unabashed the first night he sat there. Indeed, he was afraid of nothing
except burglars, big dogs, doctors, dentists, and street-crossings.
Whenever any accident occurred through any of these he preserved the
newspaper in which it was reported, read it to Lydia very seriously, and
repeated his favorite assertion that the only place in which a man was
safe was the ring. As he objected to most field sports on the ground of
inhumanity, she, fearing that he would suffer in health and appearance
from want of systematic exercise, suggested that he should resume the
practice of boxing with gloves. But he was lazy in this matter, and had
a prejudice that boxing did not become a married man. His career as a
pugilist was closed by his marriage.
His admiration for his wife survived the ardor of his first love for
her, and she employed all her forethought not to disappoint his reliance
on her judgment. She led a busy life, and wrote some learned monographs,
as well as a work in which she denounced education as practised in the
universities and public schools. Her children inherited her acuteness
and refinement with their father’s robustness and aversion to study.
They were precocious and impudent, had no respect for Cashel, and showed
any they had for their mother principally by running to her when they
were in difficulties. She never punished nor scolded them; but
she contrived to make their misdeeds recoil naturally upon them so
inevitably that they soon acquired a lively moral sense which restrained
them much more effectually than the usual methods of securing order in
the nursery. Cashel treated them kindly for the purpose of conciliating
them; and when Lydia spoke of them to him in private, he seldom said
more than that the imps were too sharp for him, or that he was blest
if he didn’t believe that they were born older than their father. Lydia
often thonght so too; but the care of this troublesome family had one
advantage for her. It left her little time to think about herself, or
about the fact that when the illusion of her love passed away Cashel
fell in her estimation. But the children were a success; and she soon
came to regard him as one of them. When she had leisure to consider
the matter at all, which seldom occurred, it seemed to her that, on the
whole, she had chosen wisely.
Alice Goff, when she heard of Lydia’s projected marriage, saw that she
must return to Wiltstoken, and forget her brief social splendor as soon
as possible. She therefore thanked Miss Carew for her bounty, and begged
to relinquish her post of companion. Lydia assented, but managed to
delay this sacrifice to a sense of duty and necessity until a day early
in winter, when Lucian gave way to a hankering after domestic joys that
possessed him, and allowed his cousin to persuade him to offer his
hand to Alice. She indignantly refused--not that she had any reason to
complain of him, but because the prospect of returning to Wiltstoken
made her feel ill used, and she could not help revenging her soreness
upon the first person whom she could find a pretext for attacking. He,
lukewarm before, now became eager, and she was induced to relent without
much difficulty. Lucian was supposed to have made a brilliant match;
and, as it proved, he made a fortunate one. She kept his house,
entertained his guests, and took charge of his social connections so
ably that in course of time her invitations came to be coveted by people
who were desirous of moving in good society. She was even better looking
as a matron than she had been as a girl; and her authority in matters of
etiquette inspired nervous novices with all the terrors she had
herself felt when she first visited Wiltstoken Castle. She invited her
brother-in-law and his wife to dinner twice a year--at midsummer and
Easter; but she never admitted that either Wallace Parker or Cashel
Byron were gentlemen, although she invited the latter freely,
notwithstanding the frankness with which he spoke to strangers after
dinner of his former exploits, without deference to their professions
or prejudices. Her respect for Lydia remained so great that she never
complained to her of Cashel save on one occasion, when he had shown a
bishop, whose house had been recently broken into and robbed, how to
break a burglar’s back in the act of grappling with him.
The Skenes returned to Australia and went their way there, as Mrs. Byron
did in England, in the paths they had pursued for years before. Cashel
spoke always of Mrs. Skene as “mother,” and of Mrs. Byron as “mamma.”
William Paradise, though admired by the fair sex for his strength,
courage, and fame, was not, like Cashel and Skene, wise or fortunate
enough to get a good wife. He drank so exceedingly that he had but few
sober intervals after his escape from the law. He claimed the title of
champion of England on Cashel’s retirement from the ring, and challenged
the world. The world responded in the persons of sundry young laboring
men with a thirst for glory and a taste for fighting. Paradise fought
and prevailed twice. Then he drank while in training, and was beaten.
But by this time the ring had again fallen into the disrepute from
which Cashel’s unusual combination of pugilistic genius with honesty
had temporarily raised it; and the law, again seizing Paradise as he
was borne vanquished from the field, atoned for its former leniency by
incarcerating him for six months. The abstinence thus enforced restored
him to health and vigor; and he achieved another victory before he
succeeded in drinking himself into his former state. This was his last
triumph. With his natural ruffianism complicated by drunkenness, he went
rapidly down the hill into the valley of humiliation. After becoming
noted for his readiness to sell the victories he could no longer win,
he only appeared in the ring to test the capabilities of untried youths,
who beat him to their hearts’ content. He became a potman, and was
immediately discharged as an inebriate. He had sunk into beggary when,
hearing in his misery that his former antagonist was contesting a
parliamentary election, he applied to him for alms. Cashel at the time
was in Dorsetshire; but Lydia relieved the destitute wretch, whose
condition was now far worse than it had been at their last meeting. At
his next application, which followed soon, he was confronted by Cashel,
who bullied him fiercely, threatened to break every bone in his skin
if he ever again dared to present himself before Lydia, flung him five
shillings, and bade him be gone. For Cashel retained for Paradise that
contemptuous and ruthless hatred in which a duly qualified professor
holds a quack. Paradise bought a few pence-worth of food, which he could
hardly eat, and spent the rest in brandy, which he drank as fast as
his stomach would endure it. Shortly afterwards a few sporting papers
reported his death, which they attributed to “consumption, brought on
by the terrible injuries sustained by him in his celebrated fight with
Cashel Byron.”
End of Project Gutenberg’s Cashel Byron’s Profession, by George Bernard Shaw