FRED NEVILLE IS AGAIN CALLED HOME TO SCROOPE.
Neville was intent upon business, and had not been back in Ennis from
the cottage half an hour before he obtained an introduction to an
attorney. He procured it through the sergeant-major of the troop. The
sergeant-major was intimate with the innkeeper, and the innkeeper was
able to say that Mr. Thaddeus Crowe was an honest, intelligent, and
peculiarly successful lawyer. Before he sat down to dinner Fred Neville
was closeted at the barracks with Mr. Crowe.
He began by explaining to Mr. Crowe who he was. This he did in order
that the attorney might know that he had the means of carrying out his
purpose. Mr. Crowe bowed, and assured his client that on that score he
had no doubts whatever. Nevertheless Mr. Crowe's first resolve, when he
heard of the earldom and of the golden prospects, was to be very careful
not to pay any money out of his own pocket on behalf of the young
officer, till he made himself quite sure that it would be returned to
him with interest. As the interview progressed, however, Mr. Crowe began
to see his way, and to understand that the golden prospects were not
pleaded because the owner of them was himself short of cash. Mr. Crowe
soon understood the whole story. He had heard of Captain O'Hara, and
believed the man to be as thorough a blackguard as ever lived. When
Neville told the attorney of the two ladies, and of the anxiety which he
felt to screen them from the terrible annoyance of the Captain's visits,
Mr. Crowe smiled, but made no remark. "It will be enough for you to know
that I am in earnest about it," said the future Earl, resenting even the
smile. Mr. Crowe bowed, and asked his client to finish the story. "The
man is to be with me to-morrow, here, at twelve, and I wish you to be
present. Mr. Crowe, my intention is to give him two hundred pounds a
year as long as he lives."
"Two hundred a year!" said the Ennis attorney, to whom such an annuity
seemed to be exorbitant as the purchase-money for a returned convict.
"Yes;--I have already mentioned that sum to his wife, though not to
him."
"I should reconsider it, Mr. Neville."
"Thank you;--but I have made up my mind. The payments will be made of
course only on condition that he troubles neither of the ladies either
personally or by letter. It might be provided that it shall be paid to
him weekly in France, but will not be paid should he leave that country.
You will think of all this, and will make suggestions to-morrow. I shall
be glad to have the whole thing left in your hands, so that I need
simply remit the cheques to you. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of
seeing you to-morrow at twelve." Mr. Crowe promised to turn the matter
over in his mind and to be present at the hour named. Neville carried
himself very well through the interview, assuming with perfect ease the
manners of the great and rich man who had only to give his orders with a
certainty that they would be obeyed. Mr. Crowe, when he went out from
the young man's presence, had no longer any doubt on his mind as to his
client's pecuniary capability.
On the following day at twelve o'clock, Captain O'Hara, punctual to the
minute, was at the barracks; and there also sitting in Neville's room,
was the attorney. But Neville himself was not there, and the Captain
immediately felt that he had been grossly imposed upon and swindled.
"And who may I have the honour of addressing, when I speak to you, sir?"
demanded the Captain.
"I am a lawyer."
"And Mr. Neville,--my own son-in-law,--has played me that trick!"
Mr. Crowe explained that no trick had been played, but did so in
language which was no doubt less courteous than would have been used had
Mr. Neville been present. As, however, the cause of our hero's absence
is more important to us than the Captain's prospects that must be first
explained.
As soon as the attorney left him Neville had sat down to dinner with his
two brother officers, but was not by any means an agreeable companion.
When they attempted to joke with him as to the young lady on the
cliffs, he showed very plainly that he did not like it; and when Cornet
Simpkinson after dinner raised his glass to drink a health to Miss
O'Hara, Mr. Neville told him that he was an impertinent ass. It was then
somewhat past nine, and it did not seem probable that the evening would
go off pleasantly. Cornet Simpkinson lit his cigar, and tried to wink
at the Captain. Neville stretched out his legs and pretended to go to
sleep. At this moment it was a matter of intense regret to him that he
had ever seen the West of Ireland.
At a little before ten Captain Johnstone retired, and the Cornet attempted
an apology. He had not meant to say anything that Neville would not
like. "It doesn't signify, my dear boy; only as a rule, never mention
women's names," said Neville, speaking as though he were fully fitted by
his experience to lay down the law on a matter so delicate. "Perhaps one
hadn't better," said the Cornet,--and then that little difficulty was
over. Cornet Simpkinson however thought of it all afterwards, and felt
that that evening and that hour had been more important than any other
evening or any other hour in his life.
At half-past ten, when Neville was beginning to think that he would take
himself to bed, and was still cursing the evil star which had brought
him to County Clare, there arose a clatter at the outside gate of the
small barrack-yard. A man had posted all the way down from Limerick and
desired to see Mr. Neville at once. The man had indeed come direct from
Scroope,--by rail from Dublin to Limerick, and thence without delay on
to Ennis. The Earl of Scroope was dead, and Frederic Neville was Earl of
Scroope. The man brought a letter from Miss Mellerby, telling him the
sad news and conjuring him in his aunt's name to come at once to the
Manor. Of course he must start at once for the Manor. Of course he must
attend as first mourner at his uncle's grave before he could assume his
uncle's name and fortune.
In that first hour of his greatness the shock to him was not so great
but that he at once thought of the O'Haras. He would leave Ennis the
following morning at six, so as to catch the day mail train out of
Limerick for Dublin. That was a necessity; but though so very short a
span of time was left to him, he must still make arrangements about the
O'Haras. He had hardly heard the news half an hour before he himself
was knocking at the door of Mr. Crowe the attorney. He was admitted,
and Mr. Crowe descended to him in a pair of slippers and a very
old dressing-gown. Mr. Crowe, as he held his tallow candle up to
his client's face, looked as if he didn't like it. "I know I must
apologize," said Neville, "but I have this moment received news of my
uncle's death."
"The Earl?"
"Yes."
"And I have now the honour of--speaking to the Earl of Scroope."
"Never mind that. I must start for England almost immediately. I haven't
above an hour or two. You must see that man, O'Hara, without me."
"Certainly, my lord."
"You shouldn't speak to me in that way yet," said Neville angrily. "You
will be good enough to understand that the terms are fixed;--two hundred
a year as long, as he remains in France and never molests anyone either
by his presence or by letter. Thank you. I shall be so much obliged
to you! I shall be back here after the funeral, and will arrange about
payments. Good-night."
So it happened that Captain O'Hara had no opportunity on that occasion
of seeing his proposed son-in-law. Mr. Crowe, fully crediting the power
confided to him, did as he was bidden. He was very harsh to the poor
Captain; but in such a condition a man can hardly expect that people
should not be harsh to him. The Captain endeavoured to hold up his head,
and to swagger, and to assume an air of pinchbeck respectability. But
the attorney would not permit it. He required that the man should own
himself to be penniless, a scoundrel, only anxious to be bought; and
the Captain at last admitted the facts. The figure was the one thing
important to him,--the figure and the nature of the assurance. Mr. Crowe
had made his calculations, and put the matter very plainly. A certain
number of francs,--a hundred francs,--would be paid to him weekly at any
town in France he might select,--which however would be forfeited by any
letter written either to Mrs. O'Hara, to Miss O'Hara, or to the Earl.
"The Earl!" ejaculated the Captain.
Mr. Crowe had been unable to refrain his tongue from the delicious
title, but now corrected himself. "Nor Mr. Neville, I mean. No one will
be bound to give you a farthing, and any letter asking for anything more
will forfeit the allowance altogether." The Captain vainly endeavoured
to make better terms, and of course accepted those proposed to him. He
would live in Paris,--dear Paris. He took five pounds for his journey,
and named an agent for the transmission of his money.
And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. He had still one other task
to perform before he could make his journey home. He had to send tidings
in some shape to Ardkill of what had happened. As he returned to the
barracks from Mr. Crowe's residence he thought wholly of this. That
other matter was now arranged. As one item of the cost of his adventure
in County Clare he must pay two hundred a year to that reprobate, the
Captain, as long as the reprobate chose to live,--and must also pay Mr.
Crowe's bill for his assistance. This was a small matter to him as his
wealth was now great, and he was not a man by nature much prone to think
of money. Nevertheless it was a bad beginning of his life. Though he had
declared himself to be quite indifferent on that head, he did feel that
the arrangement was not altogether reputable,--that it was one which
he could not explain to his own man of business without annoyance, and
which might perhaps give him future trouble. Now he must prepare his
message for the ladies at Ardkill,--especially to the lady whom on his
last visit to the cottage he had found armed with a dagger for the
reception of her husband. And as he returned back to the barracks
it occurred to him that a messenger might be better than a letter.
"Simpkinson," he said, going at once into the young man's bed-room,
"have you heard what has happened to me?" Simpkinson had heard all about
it, and expressed himself as "deucedly sorry" for the old man's death,
but seemed to think that there might be consolation for that sorrow. "I
must go to Scroope immediately," said Neville. "I have explained it all
to Johnstone, and shall start almost at once. I shall first lie down and
get an hour's sleep. I want you to do something for me." Simpkinson was
devoted. Simpkinson would do anything. "I cut up a little rough just now
when you mentioned Miss O'Hara's name." Simpkinson declared that he did
not mind it in the least, and would never pronounce the name again as
long as he lived. "But I want you to go and see her to-morrow," said
Neville. Then Simpkinson sat bolt upright in bed.
Of course the youthful warrior undertook the commission. What youthful
warrior would not go any distance to see a beautiful young lady on a
cliff, and what youthful warrior would not undertake any journey to
oblige a brother officer who was an Earl? Full instructions were at once
given to him. He had better ask to see Mrs. O'Hara,--in describing whom
Neville made no allusion to the dagger. He was told how to knock at
the door, and send in word by the servant to say that he had called on
behalf of Mr. Neville. He was to drive as far as Liscannor, and then get
some boy to accompany him on foot as a guide. He would not perhaps mind
walking two or three miles. Simpkinson declared that were it ten he
would not mind it. He was then to tell Mrs. O'Hara--just the truth. He
was to say that a messenger had come from Scroope announcing the death
of the Earl, and that Neville had been obliged to start at once for
England.
"But you will be back?" said Simpkinson.
Neville paused a moment. "Yes, I shall be back, but don't say anything
of that to either of the ladies."
"Must I say I don't know? They'll be sure to ask, I should say."
"Of course they'll ask. Just tell them that the whole thing has been
arranged so quickly that nothing has been settled, but that they shall
hear from me at once. You can say that you suppose I shall be back, but
that I promised that I would write. Indeed that will be the exact truth,
as I don't at all know what I may do. Be as civil to them as possible."
"That's of course."
"They are ladies, you know."
"I supposed that."
"And I am most desirous to do all in my power to oblige them. You can
say that I have arranged that other matter satisfactorily."
"That other matter?"
"They'll understand. The mother will at least, and you'd better say that
to her. You'll go early."
"I'll start at seven if you like."
"Eight or nine will do. Thank you, Simpkinson. I'm so much obliged to
you. I hope I shall see you over in England some day when things are a
little settled." With this Simpkinson was delighted,--as he was also
with the commission entrusted to him.
And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. Not that he owned even to
himself that the title and all belonging to it were as yet in his own
possession. Till the body of the old man should be placed in the family
vault he would still be simply Fred Neville, a lieutenant in Her
Majesty's 20th Hussars. As he travelled home to Scroope, to the old
gloomy mansion which was now in truth not only his home, but his own
house, to do just as he pleased with it, he had much to fill his mind.
He was himself astonished to find with how great a weight his new
dignities sat upon his shoulders, now that they were his own. But a
few months since he had thought and even spoken of shifting them from
himself to another, so that he might lightly enjoy a portion of the
wealth which would belong to him without burdening himself with the
duties of his position. He would take his yacht, and the girl he loved,
and live abroad, with no present record of the coronet which would have
descended to him, and with no assumption of the title. But already that
feeling had died away within him. A few words spoken to him by the
priest and a few serious thoughts within his own bosom had sufficed to
explain to him that he must be the Earl of Scroope. The family honours
had come to him, and he must support them,--either well or ill as his
strength and principles might govern him. And he did understand that it
was much to be a peer, an hereditary legislator, one who by the chance
of his birth had a right to look for deferential respect even from his
elders. It was much to be the lord of wide acres, the ruler of a large
domain, the landlord of many tenants who would at any rate regard
themselves as dependent on his goodness. It was much to be so placed
that no consideration of money need be a bar to any wish,--that the
considerations which should bar his pleasures need be only those of
dignity, character, and propriety. His uncle had told him more than once
how much a peer of England owed to his country and to his order;--how
such a one is bound by no ordinary bonds to a life of high resolves, and
good endeavours. "Sans reproche" was the motto of his house, and was
emblazoned on the wall of the hall that was now his own. If it might be
possible to him he would live up to it and neither degrade his order nor
betray his country.
But as he thought of all this, he thought also of Kate O'Hara. With what
difficulties had he surrounded the commencement of this life which he
purposed to lead! How was he to escape from the mess of trouble which he
had prepared for himself by his adventures in Ireland. An idea floated
across his mind that very many men who stand in their natural manhood
high in the world's esteem, have in their early youth formed ties such
as that which now bound him to Kate O'Hara,--that they have been silly
as he had been, and had then escaped from the effects of their folly
without grievous damage. But yet he did not see his mode of escape. If
money could do it for him he would make almost any sacrifice. If wealth
and luxury could make his Kate happy, she should be happy as a Princess.
But he did not believe either of her or of her mother that any money
would be accepted as a sufficient atonement. And he hated himself for
suggesting to himself that it might be possible. The girl was good, and
had trusted him altogether. The mother was self-denying, devoted, and
high-spirited. He knew that money would not suffice.
He need not return to Ireland unless he pleased. He could send over some
agent to arrange his affairs, and allow the two women to break their
hearts in their solitude upon the cliffs. Were he to do so he did not
believe that they would follow him. They would write doubtless, but
personally he might, probably, be quit of them in this fashion. But
in this there would be a cowardice and a meanness which would make it
impossible that he should ever again respect himself.
And thus he again entered Scroope, the lord and owner of all that he saw
around him,--with by no means a happy heart or a light bosom.