From the moment that Mr. Davenport Dunn announced he would still
continue to enjoy the hospitality of the Hermitage, a feeling of
intimacy grew up between himself and his host that almost savored of
old friendship. Lord Glengariff already saw in the distance wealth and
affluence; he had secured a co-operation that never knew failure,--the
one man whose energies could always guarantee success.
It was true, Dunn had not directly pledged himself to anything; he had
listened and questioned and inquired and reflected, but given nothing
like a definite opinion, far less a promise. But, as the old Lord said,
“These fellows are always cautious, always reserved; and whenever they
do not oppose, it may be assumed that they concur. At all events, we
must manage with delicacy; there must be no haste, no importunity; the
best advocacy we can offer to our plans is to make his visit here as
agreeable as possible.” Such was the wise counsel he gave his daughter
as they strolled through the garden after breakfast, talking over the
character and the temperament of their guest.
“By George, Gusty!” cried Lord Glengariff, after a moment's silence, “I
cannot yet persuade myself that this is 'Old Davy,' as you and the girls
used to call him long ago. Of all the miraculous transformations I have
ever witnessed, none of them approaches this!”
“It is wonderful, indeed!” said she, slowly.
“It is not that he has acquired or increased his stock of
knowledge,--that would not have puzzled me so much, seeing the life
of labor he has led,--but I go on asking myself what has become of his
former self, of which not a trace nor vestige remains? Where is his
shy, hesitating manner, his pedantry, his suspicion,--where the intense
eagerness to learn what was going on in the house? You remember how his
prying disposition used to worry us?”
“I remember,” said she, in a low voice.
“There is something, now, in his calm, quiet deportment very like
dignity. I protest I should--seeing him for the first time--call him a
well-bred man.”
“Certainly,” said she, in the same tone.
“As little was I prepared for the frank and open manner in which he
spoke to me of himself.”
“Has he done so?” asked she, with some animation.
“Yes; with much candor, and much good sense too. He sees the obstacles
he has surmounted in life, and he just as plainly perceives those that
are not to be overcome.”
“What may these latter be?” asked she, cautiously.
“It is pretty obvious what they are,” said he, half pettishly,--“his
family; his connections; his station, in fact.”
“How did he speak of these,--in what terms, I mean?”
“Modestly and fairly. He did not conceal what he owned to feel as
certain hardships, but he was just enough to acknowledge that our social
system was a sound one, and worked well.”
“It was a great admission,” said she, with a very faint smile.
“The Radical crept out only once,” said the old Lord, laughing at the
recollection. “It was when I remarked that an ancient nobility, like
a diamond, required centuries of crystallization to give it lustre and
coherence. 'It were well to bear in mind, my Lord,' said he, 'that it
began by being only charcoal.'”
She gave a low, quiet laugh, but said nothing.
“He has very sound notions in many things,--very sound, indeed. I wish,
with all my heart, that more of the class he belongs to were animated
with _his_ sentiments. He is no advocate for pulling down; moderate,
reasonable changes,--changes in conformity with the spirit of the age,
in fact,--these he advocates. As I have already said, Gusty, these men
are only dangerous when our own exclusiveness has made them so. Treat
them fairly, admit them to your society, listen to their arguments,
refute them, show them where they have mistaken us, and they are _not_
dangerous.”
“I suppose you are right,” said she, musingly.
“Another thing astonishes me: he has no pride of purse about him; at
least, I cannot detect it. He talks of money reasonably and fairly,
acknowledges what it can and what it cannot do--”
“And what, pray, is that?” broke she in, hastily.
“I don't think there can be much dispute on _that_ score!” said he, in
a voice of pique. “The sturdiest advocate for the power of wealth never
presumed to say it could make a man,--one of us!” said he, after a
pause, that sent the blood to his face.
“But it can, and does, every day,” said she, resolutely. “Our peerage is
invigorated by the wealth as well as by the talent of the class beneath
it; and if Mr. Dunn be the millionnaire that common report proclaims
him, I should like to know why that wealth, and all the influence that
it wields, should not be associated with the institutions to which we
owe our stability.”
“The wealth and the influence if you like, only not himself,” said the
Earl, with a saucy laugh. “My dear Augusta,” he added, in a gentle tone,
“he is a most excellent and a very useful man--where he is. The age
suits him, and he suits the age. We live in stirring times, when these
sharp intellects have an especial value.”
“You talk as if these men were _your_ tools. Is it not just possible you
may be _theirs?_” said she, impatiently.
“What monstrous absurdity is this, child!” replied he, angrily. “It
is--it is downright--” he grew purple in the endeavor to find the right
word,--“downright Chartism!”
“If so, the Chartists have more of my sympathy than I was aware of.”
Fortunately for both, the sudden appearance of Dunn himself put an end
to a discussion which each moment threatened to become perilous,
and whose unpleasant effects were yet visible on their faces. Lord
Glengariff had not sufficiently recovered his composure to do more
than salute Mr. Dunn; while Lady Augusta's confusion was even yet more
marked. They had not walked many steps in company, when Lord Glengariff
was recalled to the cottage by the visit of a neighboring magistrate,
and Lady Augusta found herself alone with Mr. Dunn.
“I am afraid, Lady Augusta,” said he, timidly, “my coming up was
inopportune. I suspect I must have interrupted some confidential
conversation.”
“No, nothing of the kind,” said she, frankly. “My father and I were
discussing what we can never agree upon, and what every day seems to
widen the breach of opinion between us, and I am well pleased that your
arrival should have closed the subject.”
“I never meant to play eavesdropper, Lady Augusta,” said he, earnestly;
“but as I came up the grass alley I heard my own name mentioned
twice. Am I indiscreet in asking to what circumstance I owe the honor of
engaging your attention?”
“I don't exactly know how to tell you,” said she, blushing. “Not,
indeed, but that the subject was one on which your own sentiments would
be far more interesting than our speculations; but in repeating what
passed between us, I might, perhaps, give an undue weight to opinions
which merely came out in the course of conversation. In fact, Mr. Dunn,”
said she, hastily, “my father and I differ as to what should constitute
the aristocracy of this kingdom, and from what sources it should be
enlisted.”
“And was used as an illustration?” said Dunn, bowing low, but without
the slightest trace of irritation.
“You were,” said she, in a low but distinct voice.
“And,” continued he, in the same quiet tone, “Lady Augusta Arden
condescended to think and to speak more favorably of the class I belong
to than the Earl her father. Well,” cried he, with more energy of
manner, “it is gratifying to me that I found the advocacy in the quarter
that I wished it. I can well understand the noble Lord's prejudices;
they are not very unreasonable; the very fact that they have taken
centuries to mature, and that centuries have acquiesced in them, would
give them no mean value. But I am also proud to think that you, Lady
Augusta, can regard with generosity the claims of those beneath you.
Remember, too,” added he, “what a homage we render to your order when
men like myself confess that wealth, power, and influence are all little
compared with recognition by you and yours.”
“Perhaps,” said she, hesitatingly, “you affix a higher value on these
distinctions than they merit.”
“If you mean so far as they conduce to human happiness, I agree with
you; but I was addressing myself solely to what are called the ambitions
of life.”
“I have the very greatest curiosity to know what are yours,” said she,
abruptly.
“Mine! mine!” said Dunn, stammering, and in deep confusion. “I have but
one.”
“Shall I guess it? Will you tell me, if I guess rightly?
“I will, most faithfully.”
“Your desire is, then, to be a Cabinet Minister; you want to be where
the administrative talents you possess will have their fitting influence
and exercise.”
“No, not that!” sighed he, heavily.
“Mere title could never satisfy an ambition such as yours; of that I am
certain,” resumed she. “You wouldn't care for such an empty prize.”
“And yet there is a title, Lady Augusta,” said he, dropping his voice,
which now faltered in every word,--“there is a title to win which has
been the guiding spirit of my whole life. In the days of my poverty and
obscurity, as well as in the full noon of my success, it never ceased
to be the goal of all my hopes. If I tremble at the presumption of even
approaching this confession, I also feel the sort of desperate courage
that animates him who has but one throw for fortune. Yes, Lady Augusta,
such a moment as this may not again occur. I know you sufficiently well
to feel that when one, even humble as I am, dares to avow--”
A quick step in the walk adjoining startled both, and they looked up. It
was Sybella Eellett, who came up with a sealed packet in her hand.
“A despatch, Mr. Dunn,” said she; “I have been in search of you all over
the garden.” He took it with a muttered “Thanks,” and placed it unread
in his pocket Miss Eellett quickly saw that her presence was not
desired, and with a hurried allusion to engagements, was moving away,
when Lady Augusta said,--
“Wait for me, Miss Kellett; Mr. Dunn must be given time for his letters,
or he will begin to rebel against his captivity.” And with this she
moved away.
“Pray don't go, Lady Augusta,” said he. “I 'm proof against business
appeals to-day.” But she was already out of hearing.
[Illustration: 462]
Amongst the secrets which Davenport Dunn had never succeeded in
unravelling, the female heart was pre-eminently distinguished. The
veriest young lady fresh from her governess or the boarding-school would
have proved a greater puzzle to him than the most intricate statement
of a finance minister. Whether Lady Augusta had fully comprehended his
allusion, or whether, having understood it, she wished to evade the
subject, and spare both herself and him the pain of any mortifying
rejoinder, were now the difficult questions which he revolved over and
over in his mind. In his utter ignorance of the sex, he endeavored to
solve the problem by the ordinary guidance of his reason, taking no
account of womanly reserve and delicacy, still less of that “finesse” of
intelligence which, with all the certainty of an instinct, can divine at
once in what channel feelings will run, and how their course can be most
safely directed.
“She must have seen to what I pointed,” said he; “I spoke out plainly
enough,--perhaps too plainly. Was that the mistake I made? Was my
declaration too abrupt? and if so, was it likely she would not have
uttered something like reproof? Her sudden departure might have this
signification, as though to say, 'I will spare you any comment; I
will seem even not to have apprehended you.' In the rank to which she
pertains, I have heard, a chief study is, how much can be avoided of
those rough allusions which grate upon inferior existences; how to make
life calm and peaceful, divesting it so far as may be of the irritations
that spring out of hasty words and heated tempers. In her high-bred
nature, therefore, how possible is it that she would reason thus, and
say, 'I will not hurt him by a direct refusal; I will not rebuke the
presumption of his wishes. He will have tact enough to appreciate my
conduct, and return to the topic no more! 'And yet, how patiently she
had heard me up to the very moment of that unlucky interruption. Without
a conscious sense of encouragement I had never dared to speak as I did.
Yes, assuredly, she led me on to talk of myself and my ambitions as I am
not wont to do. She went even further. She overcame objections which,
to myself, had seemed insurmountable. She spoke to me like one taking a
deep, sincere interest in my success; and was this feigned? or, if real,
what meant it? After all, might not her manner be but another phase
of that condescension with which her 'Order' listen to the plots and
projects of inferior beings,--something begotten of curiosity as much as
of interest?”
In this fashion did he guess and speculate and question on a difficulty
where even wiser heads have guessed and speculated and questioned just
as vaguely.
At last he was reminded of the circumstance which had interrupted their
converse,--the despatch. He took it from his pocket and looked at the
address and the seal, but never opened it, and with a kind of half-smile
replaced it in his pocket.
END OF VOL I