What a charming day was that at the Hermitage,--every one pleased,
happy, and good-humored! With a frankness that gave universal
satisfaction, Mr. Dunn declared he could not tear himself away.
Engagements the most pressing, business appointments of the deepest
moment, awaited him on every side, but, “No matter what it cost,” said
he, “I will have my holiday!” Few flatteries are more successful than
those little appeals to the charms and fascinations of a quiet home
circle; and when some hard-worked man of the world, some eminent leader
at the Bar, or some much-sought physician condescends to tell us that
the world of clients must wait while he lingers in our society, the
assurance never fails to be pleasing. It is, indeed, complimentary to
feel that we are, in all the easy indolence of leisure, enjoying
the hours of one whose minutes are valued as guineas; our own value
insensibly rises at the thought, and we associate ourselves in our
estimate of the great man. When Mr. Davenport Dunn had made this
graceful declaration, he added another, not less gratifying, that he was
completely at his Lordship's and Lady Augusta's orders, as regarded the
great project on which they desired to have his opinion.
“The best way is to come down and see the spot yourself, Dunn. We 'll
walk over there together, and Augusta will acquaint you with our notions
as we go along.”
“I ought to mention,” said Dunn, “that yesterday, by the merest chance,
I had the opportunity of looking over a little sketch of your project.”
“Oh, Miss Kellett's!” broke in Lady Augusta, coloring slightly. “It is
very clever, very prettily written, but scarcely practical, scarcely
business-like enough for a prosaic person like myself. A question of
this kind is a great financial problem, not a philanthropic experiment.
Don't you agree with me?”
“Perfectly,” said he, bowing.
“And its merits are to be tested by figures, and not by Utopian dreams
of felicity. Don't you think so?”
He bowed again, and smiled approvingly.
“I am aware,” said she, in a sort of half confusion, “what rashness it
would be in me to say this to any one less largely minded than yourself;
how I should expose myself to the censure of being narrow-hearted and
worldly, and so forth; but I am not afraid of such judgments from you.”
“Nor have you need to dread them,” said he, in a voice a little above a
whisper.
“Young ladies, like Miss Kellett, are often possessed by the ambition--a
very laudable sentiment, no doubt--of distinguishing themselves by these
opinions. It is, as it were, a 'trick of the time' we live in, and, with
those who do not move in 'society,' has its success too.”
The peculiar intonation of that one word “society” gave the whole point
and direction of this speech. There was in it that which seemed to say,
“_This_ is the real tribunal! Here is the one true court where claims
are recognized and shams nonsuited.” Nor was it lost upon Mr. Davenport
Dunn. More than once--ay, many a time before--had he been struck by the
reference to that Star Chamber of the well-bred world. He had even heard
a noble lord on the Treasury benches sneer down a sturdy champion
of Manchesterism, by suggesting that in a certain circle, where the
honorable gentleman never came, very different opinions prevailed from
those announced by him.
While Dunn was yet pondering over this mystic word, Lord Glengariff came
to say that, as Miss Kellett required his presence to look over some
papers in the library, they might stroll slowly along till he overtook
them.
As they sauntered along under the heavy shade of the great beech-trees,
the sun streaking at intervals the velvety sward beneath their feet,
while the odor of the fresh hay was wafted by on a faint light breeze,
Dunn was unconsciously brought back in memory to the “long, long ago,”
when he walked the self-same spot in a gloom only short of despair. Who
could have predicted the day when he should stroll there, with _her_ at
his side, _her_ arm within his own, _her_ voice appealing in tones
of confidence and friendship? His great ambitions had grown with his
successes, and as he rose higher and higher, his aims continued to
mount upwards; but here was a sentiment that dated from the time of his
obscurity, here a day-dream that had filled his imagination when from
imagination alone could be derived the luxury of triumph, and now it was
realized, and now--
Who is to say what strange wild conflict went on within that heart where
worldliness felt its sway for once disputed? Did there yet linger there,
in the midst of high ambitions, some trait of boyish love, or was it
that he felt this hour to be the crowning triumph of his long life of
toil?
“If I were not half ashamed to disturb your revery,” said Lady Augusta,
smiling, “I'd tell you to look at that view yonder. See where the coast
stretches along there, broken by cliff and headland, with those rocky
islands breaking the calm sea-line, and say if you saw anything finer in
your travels abroad?”
“Was I in a revery? have I been dreaming?” cried he, suddenly, not
regarding the scene, but turning his eyes fully upon herself. “And
yet you 'd forgive me were I to confess to you of what it was I was
thinking.”
“Then tell it directly, for I own your silence piqued me, and I stopped
speaking when I perceived I was not listened to.”
“Perhaps I am too confident when I say you would forgive me?”
“You have it in your power to learn, at all events,” said she,
laughingly.
“But not to recall my words if they should have been uttered rashly,”
said he, slowly.
“Shall I tell you a great fault you have,--perhaps your greatest?” asked
she, quickly.
“Do, I entreat of you.”
“And you pledge yourself to take my candor well, and bear me no malice
afterwards?”
“It is a coldness,--a reserve almost amounting to distrust, which seems
actually to dominate in your temper. Be frank with me, now, and say
fairly, was not this long alley reylying all the thoughts of long ago,
and were you not summing up the fifty-one little grudges you had against
that poor silly child who used to torment and fret you, and, instead
of honestly owning all this, you fell back upon that stern dignity of
manner I have just complained of? Besides,” added she, as though hurried
away by some strong impulse, “if it would quiet your spirit to know you
were avenged, you may feel satisfied.”
“As how?” asked he, eagerly, and not comprehending to what she pointed.
“Simply thus,” resumed she. “As I continued to mark and read of your
great career in life, the marvellous successes which met you in each new
enterprise, how with advancing fortune you ever showed yourself equal to
the demand made upon your genius, I thought with shame and humiliation
over even my childish follies, how often I must have grieved--have hurt
you! Over and over have I said, 'Does he ever remember? Can he forgive
me?' And yet there was a sense of exquisite pleasure in the midst of
all my sorrow as I thought over all these childish vanities, and said to
myself, 'This man, whom all are now flattering and fawning upon, was the
same I used to irritate with my caprices, and worry with my whims!'”
“I never dreamed that you remembered me,” said he, in a voice tremulous
with delight.
“Your career made a romance for me,” said she, eagerly. “I could repeat
many of those vigorous speeches you made,--those spirited addresses.
One, in particular, I remember well; it was when refusing the offer of
the Athlone burgesses to represent their town; you alluded so happily
to the cares which occupied you,--less striking than legislative duties,
but not less important,--or, as you phrased it, yours was like the
part of those 'who sound the depth and buoy the course that thundering
three-deckers are to follow.' Do you remember the passage? And again,
that proud humility with which, alluding to the wants of the poor, you
said, 'I, who have carried my musket in the ranks of the people!' Let me
tell you, sir,” added she, playfully, “these are very haughty avowals,
after all, and savor just as much of personal pride as the insolent
declarations of many a pampered courtier!”
Dunn's face grew crimson, and his chest swelled with an emotion of
intense delight.
“Shall I own to you,” continued she, still running on with what seemed
an irrepressible freedom, “that it appears scarcely real to me to be
here talking to you about yourself, and your grand enterprises, and your
immense speculations. You have been so long to my mind the great genius
of wondrous achievements, that I cannot yet comprehend the condescension
of your strolling along here as if this world could spare you.”
If Dunn did not speak, it was that his heart was too full for words; but
he pressed the round arm that leaned upon him closer to his side, and
felt a thrill of happiness through him.
“By the way,” said she, after a pause, “I have a favor to ask of you:
papa would be charmed to have a cast of Marochetti's bust of you, and
yet does not like to ask for it. May I venture--”
“Too great an honor to me,” muttered Dunn. “Would you--I mean, would
he--accept--”
“Yes, I will, and with gratitude; not but I think the likeness hard and
harsh. It is, very probably, what you are to that marvellous world
of politicians and financiers you live amongst, but not such as your
friends recognize you,--what you are to-day, for instance.”
“And what may that be,” asked he, playfully.
“I was going to say an impudence, and I only caught myself in time.”
“Do, then, let me hear it,” said he, eagerly, “for I am quite ready to
cap it with another.”
“Yours be the first, then,” said she, laughing. “Is it not customary to
put the amendment before the original motion?”
Both Mr. Dunn and his fair companion were destined to be rescued from
the impending indiscretion by the arrival of Lord Glengariff, who,
mounted on his pony, suddenly appeared beside them.
“Well, Dunn,” cried he, as he came up, “has she made a convert of you?
Are you going to advocate the great project here?”
Dunn looked sideways towards Lady Augusta, who, seeing his difficulty,
at once said, “Indeed, papa, we never spoke of the scheme. I doubt if
either of us as much as remembered there was such a thing.”
“Well, I'm charmed to find that your society could prove so fascinating,
Augusta,” said Lord Glengariff, with some slight irritation of manner,
“but I must ask of Mr. Dunn to bear with me while I descend to the very
commonplace topic which has such interest for me. The very spot we stand
on is admirably suited to take a panoramic view of our little bay, the
village, and the background. Carry your eyes along towards the rocky
promontory on which the stone pines are standing; we begin there.”
Now, most worthy reader, although the noble Lord pledged himself to
be brief, and really meant to keep his word, and although he fancied
himself to be graphic,--truth is truth,--he was lamentably prolix
and confused beyond all endurance. As for Dunn, he listened with
an exemplary patience; perhaps his thoughts were rambling away
elsewhere,--perhaps he was compensated for the weariness by the
occasional glances which met him from eyes now downcast, now bent softly
upon him. Meanwhile the old Lord floundered on, amidst crescents
and bathing-lodges, yacht stations and fisheries, aiding his memory
occasionally with little notes, which, as he contrived to mistake, only
served to make the description less intelligible. At length he had got
so far as to conjure up a busy, thriving, well-to-do watering-place,
sought after by the fashionable world that once had loved Brighton or
Dieppe. He had peopled the shore with loungers, and the hotels with
visitors; equipages were seen flocking in, and a hissing steamer in
the harbor was already sounding the note of departure for Liverpool or
Holyhead, when Dunn, suddenly rousing himself from what might have been
a revery, said, “And the money, my Lord,--the means to do all this?”
“The money--the means--we look to _you_, Dunn, to answer that question.
Our scheme is a great shareholding company of five thousand--no,
fifty--nay, I 'm wrong. What is it, Augusta?”
“The exact amount scarcely signifies much, my Lord. The excellence of
the project once proved, money can always be had. What I desired to know
was, if you already possessed the confidence of some great capitalist
favorable to the undertaking, or is it simply its intrinsic merits which
recommend it?”
“Its own merits, of course,” broke in Lord Glengariff, hastily. “Are
they not sufficient?”
“I am not in a position to affirm or deny that opinion,” said Dunn,
gravely. “Let me see,” added he, to himself, while he drew a pencil from
his pocket, and on the back of a letter proceeded to scratch certain
figures. He continued to calculate thus for some minutes, when at last
he said: “If you like to try it, my Lord, with an advance of say twenty
thousand pounds, there will be no great difficulty in raising the money.
Once afloat, you will be in a position to enlist shareholders easily
enough.” He spoke with all the cool indifference of one discussing the
weather.
“I must say, Dunn,” cried Lord Glengariff, with warmth, “this is a very
noble--a very generous offer. I conclude my personal security--”
“We can talk over all this at another time, my Lord,” broke in Dunn,
smiling. “Lady Augusta will leave us if we go into questions of bonds
and parchments. My first care will be to send you down Mr. Steadman, a
very competent person, who will make the necessary surveys; his report,
too, will be important in the share market.”
“So that the scheme enlists your co-operation, Dunn,--so that we have
_you_ with us,” cried the old Lord, rubbing his hands, “I have no fears
as to success.”
“May we reckon upon so much?” whispered Lady Augusta, while a long,
soft, meaning glance stole from her eyes.
Dunn bent his head in assent, while his face grew crimson.
“I say, Augusta,” whispered Lord Glengariff, “we have made a capital
morning's work of it--eh?”
“I hope so, too,” said she. And her eyes sparkled with an expression of
triumph.
“There is only one condition I would bespeak, my Lord. It is this: the
money market at this precise moment is unsettled, over-speculation
has already created a sort of panic, so that you will kindly give me a
little time--very little will do--to arrange the advance. Three weeks
ago we were actually glutted with money, and now there are signs of what
is called tightness in discounts.”
“Consult your own convenience in every respect,” said the old Lord,
courteously.
“Nothing would surprise me less than a financial crisis over here,”
said Dunn, solemnly. “Our people have been rash in their investments
latterly, and there is always a retribution upon inordinate gain!”
Whether it was the topic itself warmed him, or the gentle pressure
of Lady Augusta's arm as in encouragement of his sentiments, but Dunn
continued to “improve the occasion” as they strolled along homeward,
inveighing in very choice terms against speculative gambling, and
deploring the injury done to honest, patient industry by those examples
of wealth acquired without toil and accumulated without thrift. He
really treated the question well and wisely, and when he passed from
the mere financial consideration to the higher one of “morals” and the
influence exerted upon national character, he actually grew eloquent.
Let us acknowledge that the noble Lord did not participate in all his
daughter's admiration of this high-sounding harangue, nor was he without
a sort of lurking suspicion that he was listening to a lecture upon
his, own greed and covetousness; he, however, contrived to throw in at
intervals certain little words of concurrence, and in this way occupied
they arrived at the Hermitage.
It is not always that the day which dawns happily continues bright and
unclouded to its close; yet this was such a one. The dinner passed off
most agreeably, the evening in the drawing-room was delightful. Lady
Augusta sang prettily enough to please even a more critical ear than
Mr. Dunn's, and she had a tact, often wanting in better performers,
to select the class of music likely to prove agreeable to her hearers.
There is a very considerable number of people who like pictures for
the story and music for the sentiment, and for these high art is less
required than something which shall appeal to their peculiar taste.
But, while we are confessing, let us own that if Mr. Dunn liked “the
melodies,” it assuredly added to their charm to hear them sung by a
peer's daughter; and as he lay back in his well-cushioned chair, and
drank in the sweet sounds, it seemed to him that he was passing a very
charming evening.
Like many other vulgar men in similar circumstances, he wondered at the
ease and unconstraint he felt in such choice company! He could not help
contrasting the tranquil beatitude of his sensations with what he had
fancied must be the coldness and reserve of such society. He was, as he
muttered to himself, as much at home as in his own house; and truly, as
with one hand in his breast, while with the fingers of the other he beat
time,--and all falsely,--he looked the very ideal of his order.
“Confound the fellow!” muttered the old peer, as he glanced at him over
his newspaper, “he is insufferably at his ease amongst us!”
And Sybella Kellett, where was she all this time--or have we forgotten
her? Poor Sybella! she had been scarcely noticed at dinner, scarcely
spoken to in the drawing-room, and she had slipped unperceived away to
her own room.
They never missed her.