“Am I behind time, Mr. Massingbred?” said Kate Henderson, as she entered
the library, about a week after the events we have last recorded,--“am
I behind time?” said she, approaching a table where the young man sat
surrounded with a mass of letters and papers.
“Not very much,” said he, rising, and placing a chair for her; “and I
take it for granted you came as soon as you could.”
“Yes; I have finished my morning's reading for her Ladyship, noted her
letters, answered the official portion of her correspondence, talked
the newspaper for Mr. Martin, hummed a singing lesson for Miss Mary,
listened to a grand jury story of Mr. Repton; and now, that they are all
off to their several destinations, here I am, very much at the service
of Mr. Massingbred.”
“Who never needed counsel more than at this moment!” said Jack, running
his hands distractedly through his hair. “That 's from my father!” added
he, handing her a letter with a portentous-looking seal attached to it.
“What a fine bold hand, and how easy to read!” said she, perusing it.
Jack watched her narrowly while she read; but on her calm impassive face
not a line nor a lineament betrayed emotion.
“It is, then, an English borough he recommends,” said she, laying it
down; “and I suppose, looking to an official career, he is quite right.
The 'No Irish need apply' might be inscribed over Downing Street; but is
that altogether your view?”
“I scarcely know what I project as yet,” said he. “I have no career!”
“Well, let us plan one,” replied she, crossing her arms on the table,
and speaking with increased earnestness. “The Martins have offered you
Oughterard--” He nodded, and she went on: “And, as I understand it, very
much on _your_ own conditions?”
“That is to say, I'm not to damage the Tories more than I can help, nor
to help the Radicals more than I must.”
“Is there any designation for the party you will thus belong to?” asked
she.
“I 'm not exactly sure that there is; perhaps they 'd call me a Moderate
Whig.”
“That sounds very nice and commonplace, but I don't like it. These are
not times for moderation; nor would the part suit _you!_”
“You think so?”
“I'm certain of it. You have n't got habits of discipline to serve with
a regular corps; to do anything, or be anything, you must command a
partisan legion--”
“You're right there; I know that,” broke he in.
“I don't mean it as flattery, but rather something a little bordering on
the reverse,” said she, fixing her eyes steadfastly on him; “for, after
all, there is no great success--I mean, no towering success--to be
achieved by such a line; but as I feel that you 'll not work--”
“No; of that be assured!”
“Then there are only secondary rewards to be won.”
“You certainly do not overestimate me!” said Jack, trying to seem
perfectly indifferent.
“I have no desire to underrate your abilities,” said she, calmly; “they
are very good ones. You have great fluency,--great 'variety,' as Grattan
would call it,--an excellent memory, and a most amiable
self-possession.”
“By Jove!” said he, reddening slightly, “you enumerate my little gifts
with all the accuracy of an appraiser!”
“Then,” resumed she, not heeding his interruption, “you have abundance
of what is vulgarly styled 'pluck,' and which is to courage what
_esprit_ is to actual wit; and, lastly, you are a proficient in that
readiness which the world always accepts for frankness.”
“You were right to say that you intended no flattery!” said he, with an
effort to laugh.
“I want to be truthful,” rejoined she, calmly. “No praise
of mine--however high it soared, or however lavishly it was
squandered--could possibly raise you in your own esteem. The governess
may perform the part of the slave in the triumphal chariot, but could
not aspire to put the crown on the conqueror!”
“But I have not conquered!” said Jack.
“You may, whenever you enter the lists; you must, indeed, if you only
care to do so. Go in for an Irish borough,” said she, with renewed
animation. “Arm yourself with all the popular grievances; there is just
faction enough left to last _your_ time. Discuss them in your own way,
and my word for it, but you 'll succeed. It will be such a boon to the
House to hear a gentlemanlike tone on questions which have always been
treated in coarser guise. For a while you 'll have no imitators, and can
sneer at the gentry and extol the 'people' without a competitor. Now
and then, too, you can assail the Treasury benches, where your father
is sitting; and nothing will so redound to your character for
independence.”
“Why, where, in Heaven's name,” cried Jack, “have you got up all this?
What and how do you know anything of party and politics?”
“Have I not been studying 'Hansard' and the files of the 'Times' for
the last week by your directions? Have I not read lives of all the
illustrious prosers you gave me to look through? And is it very
wonderful if I have learned some of the secrets of this success, or
that I should 'get up' my 'politics' as rapidly as you can your
'principles'?”
“I wish I was even sure that I had done so,” said Jack, laughing; “for
this same address is puzzling me sadly! Now here, for instance,” and
he read aloud: “'While steadfastly upholding the rights of property,
determined to maintain in all their integrity the more sacred rights of
conscience--'Now just tell me, what do you understand by that?”
“That rents must be paid,--occasionally, at least; but that you hope to
pull down the Established Church!”
“Well, come,” said he, “the thing will perhaps do!”
“I don't much like all this about 'the Palladium of the British
Constitution, and the unbroken bulwark of our dearest liberties.' We are
in Ireland, remember, where we care no more for your Palladium--if we
ever knew what it meant--than we do for the 'Grand Lama.' A slight
dash of what is called 'nationality' would be better; very vague, very
shadowy, of course. Bear in mind what Lady Dorothea told us last night
about the charm of the king's bow. Everybody thought it specially meant
for himself; it strikes me that something of this sort should pervade an
election address.”
“I wish to Heaven you 'd write it, then,” said Jack, placing a pen in
her fingers.
“Something in this fashion,” said she, while her hands traced the lines
rapidly on the paper:--
“'Finding that a new era is about to dawn in the political state of
Ireland, when the consequences of late legislation will engender new
conditions and relations, I present myself before you to solicit
the honor of your suffrages, a perfect stranger to your town, but no
stranger to the wants and necessities of that nationality which now, for
the first time for centuries, is about to receive its due development.'
“Or this, if you prefer it,” said she, writing away rapidly as before:--
“'The presumption of aspiring to your representation will, perhaps,
be compensated when I come before you deeply impressed with the wrongs
which centuries of legislation have enacted, and which, stranger as I
am in Ireland, have arrested my attention and engaged my sympathies,
impelling me to enter upon a public career; and, if favored by your
approval, to devote whatever energy and capacity I may possess to your
great and good cause.'”
“I like the first best,” said Jack. “The new era and the results of
the Relief Bill will be such appetizing suggestions. There must be an
allusion to the Martins and their support.”
“Rather, however, as though _you_ had brought over Martin to _your_
views, than that _he_ had selected you to represent his. In this wise:”
and again she wrote,--
“'It is with a just pride that I announce to you that in these
professions I am strengthened by the cordial approval and support of one
who, in his rank and station, and natural influence, is second to none
in this great county; and who, whatever misconceptions have hitherto
prevailed as to his views, is, heart and soul, a true patriot and an
Irishman!'
“It will puzzle him sorely to guess what line he should adopt to realize
all this, and he'll have to come to _you_ for his politics!”
“You have caught up the cant of this peculiar literature perfectly,”
said Massingbred, as he pored over the papers she had just penned.
“Dear me!” cried she, in a weary tone, “my great difficulty will be
to discard its evil influence, and even write a common note like a
reasonable being again.”
“But come, confess frankly: you think that a political career is the
only one worth embracing, and that any other life offers no reward
worthy the name?”
“I think you mistake me,” said she. “It is the social position
consequent upon success in a political life that I value,--the eminence
it confers in the very highest and greatest circles. If I regarded the
matter otherwise, I'd not be indifferent as to the line to follow--I 'd
have great convictions, and hold them,--I mean, if I were _you_.”
“Then of course you consider me as one who has none such?”
“To be sure I do. Men of your measures of ability can no more burden
themselves with principles than a thoroughbred hackney can carry extra
weight,--they 've quite enough to do to make their running without.”
“Well, I shall certainly not be spoiled by flattery, at least from you,”
said Jack, laughing.
“They who know you less will make up for it all, depend upon it,” said
she, quietly. “Don't fancy, Mr. Massingbred,” added she, with more
earnestness of manner,--“don't fancy that I 'm insensible to the
impertinences I have dared to address to you, or that I venture upon
them without pain; but when I perceived that you would admit me to the
liberty of criticising your conduct, character, and manners, I thought
that I might render you good service by saying what better taste and
better breeding would shrink from, and the only cost be the dislike of
myself.”
“You took a very bad way to accomplish the latter,” said Jack,
fervently.
“I did n't give it much consideration,” said she, haughtily. “It was
very little matter what opinion you entertained of 'the governess.'”
“I should like to convince you that you were wrong,” said he, looking
fixedly at her.
“You'd find your task harder than you suspect, sir,” said she, coldly.
“There is a sense of pride about the humbleness of a station such as
mine, as all the elevation of one in yours could never fathom. And,”
added she, in a still more determined tone, “there is but one condition
on which this intercourse of ours can continue, which is, that this
topic be never resumed between us. The gulf that separates your position
in life from mine is the security for mutual frankness; to attempt to
span it over by deception would be to build a bridge that must break
down the first moment of its trial. Enough of this! I'll take these,”
said she, gathering up the papers, “and copy them out clearly. They
ought to be with the printer to-morrow; and, indeed, you should not
defer your canvass.”
Massingbred made no answer, but sat with his head buried between his
hands.
“I'd have you to visit the 'dear constituency' at once, Mr.
Massingbred,” said she, with a slight touch of scorn in her voice. “They
are not well bred enough to bear a slight!” And with this she left the
room.
“I should like excessively to know the secret of this interest in my
behalf,” said Jack, as he arose and slowly walked the room. “It is not,
unquestionably, from any high estimate of my capacity; as little is it
anything bordering on regard; and yet,” added he, after a pause, “there
are moments when I half fancy she could care for me,--at least I know
well that I could for _her_, Confound it!” cried he, passionately,
“what a terrible barrier social station throws up! If she were even some
country squire's daughter,--portionless as she is,--the notion would
not be so absurd; but 'the governess!' and 'the steward!' what frightful
figures to conjure up. No, no; that's impossible. One might do such a
folly by retiring from the world forever, but that would be exactly to
defeat the whole object of such a match. She is essentially intended for
'the world;' every gift and grace she possesses are such as only have
their fitting exercise where the game of life is played by the highest,
and for the heaviest stakes! But it is not to be thought of!”
“Have I found you at last?” cried Repton, entering the room. “They say
the writ will be here on Monday, so that we 've not an hour to lose.
Let us drive over to Oughterard at once, see the editor of the
'Intelligence,' call on Priest Rafferty, and that other fellow--the
father of our young friend here.”
“Mr. Nelligan,” said Jack. “But I can't well visit _him_--there have
been some rather unpleasant passages between us.”
“Ah! you told me something about it. He wanted you to fill a bail-bond,
or do something or other, rather than shoot _me_. An unreasonable old
rascal! Never mind; we shall come before him now in another character,
and you 'll see that he'll be more tractable.”
“The matter is graver than this,” said Jack, musingly; “and our
difference is serious enough to make intercourse impossible.”
“You shall tell me all about it as we drive along,--that is, if it be
brief and easy to follow, for my head is so full of election matters
I don't desire a new element of complication. Step in now, and let
us away.” And with this he hurried Massingbred to the door, where a
pony-phaeton was in waiting for them.
Once on the road, Repton changed the conversation from the domain of
politics, and talked entirely of the host and his family. There was a
sort of constitutional frankness and familiarity about the old lawyer
which all the astute habits and instincts of his profession had
never mastered. Like a great many acute men, his passion for shrewd
observation and keen remark overbore the prudent reserve that belongs to
less animated talkers, and so he now scrupled not to dis-cuss Martin and
his affairs to one who but a few days back had been a complete stranger
amongst them.
At first Jack heard him without much interest, but, as he continued, the
subject attracted all his attention, full as it was of views of life and
the world perfectly new and strange to him.
To Massingbred's great astonishment, he learned that vast as the
estates, and large as was the fortune of the Martins, that they were
deeply encumbered with bond-debts and mortgages. The wasteful habits of
the gentry generally, combined with great facilities for obtaining money
at any emergency, had led to this universal indebtedness; and, in fact,
as the lawyer expressed it, an old estate was supposed to be the victim
of debt, as an elderly gentleman was liable to gout; nobody presuming to
think that the tenure, in either case, was a whit the more precarious on
account of the casualty.
“Now,” said Repton, as they reached a point of the road from which a
view of the country could be obtained for miles on every side--“now, as
far as you can see belongs to Martin. Beyond that mountain yonder, too,
there is a large tract--not very productive, it is true--extending to
the sea. The fine waving surface to your left is all tillage land; and
the islands in the bay are his. It is really a princely estate, with
even greater hidden resources than those palpable and open to view. But,
were I to show it to you on a map, and point out at the same time every
spot on which some moneylender has a claim--how much has been advanced
upon this--what sums have been lent upon that--you 'd be more amazed at
the careless ease of the proprietor than you now are at the extent of
his fortune.”
“But he is spending immensely in improving and developing the property,”
said Jack.
“Of course he is, sir. That new-fangled notion of 'gentleman-farming
'--which has come to us from countries where there are no
gentlemen--won't suit Ireland, at least in the present generation. What
_we_ want here is, not to make more money, but to learn how to spend
less; and although the first very often teaches the last, it is a hard
way for an Irishman to acquire his knowledge. There's your borough,
sir,--that little spot in the valley yonder is Oughterard. Do you feel,
as you behold it, as though it were to be the mainspring of a great
career? Is there an instinctive throb within that says, 'The honorable
member for Oughterard will be a great name in the “Collective Wisdom
“'?”
“I can scarcely say yes to that appeal,” said Jack, smiling; “though, if
what you have just told me of the mediocrity of public men be true--”
“Can you doubt it? You have them all before you,--their lives, their
sayings, and their doings. Show me one in the whole mass who has
originated a new idea in politics, or developed a new resource in the
nation. Do they exhibit the common inventiveness displayed in almost
every other walk of life, or do they even dress up their common
platitudes in any other garb than the cast-off clothes of their
predecessors? Mediocrity is a flattery when applied to them. But what's
this coming along behind us, with such clattering of hoofs?”
“A tandem, I think,” said Jack, looking backward, “and very well
handled, too.”
“Oh, that illustrious attorney, Mr. Scanlan, I 've no doubt. Let us draw
up till he passes.” And so saying, Repton moved to one side of the road,
giving a wide space for the other to proceed on his way. Mr. Scanlan,
however, had subdued his nags, by a low, soft whistle, to a half-trot,
when, giving the reins to his servant, he descended and advanced to the
carriage. “I've been in pursuit of you, gentlemen,” said he, touching
his hat courteously, “for the last four miles, and I assure you you 've
given me a breathing heat of it. Mr. Martin requested me to hand you
this note, sir,” added he, addressing Repton, “which demands immediate
attention.”
The note was marked “Instantaneous,” and “Strictly private,” on the
cover, and Repton opened it at once. Its contents were as follows,--
“Dear Rep.,--The post has just arrived, with intelligence
that Harry is coming home,--may be here within a week or
so,--so that we must not go on with our present plans for
the borough, as H., of course, will stand. Come back,
therefore, at once, and let as talk over the matter
together.
“Yours, in haste,
“G. M.”
“You know what this contains, perhaps?” said Repton, in a whisper to
Scanlan. He nodded an assent, and the old lawyer re-read the note. “I
don't see my way here quite clearly,” added he, in the same subdued
voice, to Scanlan.
“I'll stroll on and stretch my legs a bit,” said Jack, springing out of
the pony phaeton, and seeing that the others had some private matter of
discussion; and Scanlan now drew nigh, while Repton informed him what
the note contained.
“It's a little too late for this now,” said Scanlan, gravely.
“How do you mean too late?” asked Repton.
“Why, that Massingbred stands well with the people in the borough. They
think that he 'll be more their man than Martin's, and, indeed, they 're
so confident of it, I half suspect he has told them so.”
“But there has been no canvass as yet,--his address isn't even printed.”
“There has been a correspondence, however,” said Scanlan, with a knowing
wink. “Take my word for it, Mr. Repton, he 's a deep fellow.”
“Are you quite sure of this?--can you pledge yourself to its truth?”
“I only know that Father Rafferty said the night before last he was
satisfied with him, and the one difficulty was about old Nelligan, who
somehow is greatly incensed against Massingbred.”
“He 'd have no chance in the borough without us,” said Repton,
confidently.
“If old Dan would consent to spend the money, he'd be the member in
spite of us,” rejoined Scanlan.
“I'll not dispute local knowledge with you, sir,” said Repton,
peevishly. “Let us turn back at once. Where's Mr. Massingbred? I saw him
standing on the hill yonder a few minutes ago; maybe, he 's strolling
along the road in front.” Repton moved forward to a rising spot of
ground, from whence a wide view extended for a distance on every side,
but no trace of Massingbred could be discovered. “What can have become
of him?--has he turned towards Cro' Martin?” asked Repton.
“There he is,” cried Scanlan, suddenly; “there he is, walking
with Magennis. They're taking the short cut over the hills to
Oughterard--that's unfortunate, too!”
“How so?”
“Why, before they're in the town they'll be as thick as two
pickpockets--see how they 're talking! I think, if I was to drive on,
I'd catch them before they entered the town.”
“Do so, then, Scanlan. Say that a sudden message from Mr. Martin
recalled me, but that you'll drive him back with you to Cro' Martin.”
“Am I to allude to the contents of the note, sir?”
“I think not; I opine it's best not to speak of it. Say, however, that
something of importance has occurred at Cro' Martin, and suggest to him
that the sooner he returns thither the better.”
There was an amount of vacillation and uncertainty about Repton's
manner as he uttered these few words that showed not only how gravely he
regarded the crisis, but how totally unprepared he found himself for
the emergency. Not so Scanlan, who took his seat once more on his lofty
“buggy,” and was soon spinning along the road at a pace of full twelve
miles the hour.
As Repton drove back to Cro' Martin, he thought once, and not without
humiliation, of his late lessons in statecraft to young Massingbred. “To
fancy that I was instilling all these precepts at the very moment
that he was countermining us. The young villain is a worthy son of his
father! And how he will laugh at me, and make others laugh too! It will
never do to drive him into opposition to us. Martin must consent to make
the best of it, now, and accept him as his member,--for the present,
at least. With time and good opportunity we can manage to trip up his
heels, but, for the moment, there's no help for it.” And with these
not very consoling reflections he entered once more the grounds of Cro'
Martin Castle.
Let us now turn to Massingbred, as, accompanied by Magennis, he walked
at a rapid pace towards Oughterard. It needed but a glance at the
figures, and the rate at which they moved, to see that these two men
were bent upon an object.
“Don't you see the town now before you?” said Magennis. “It's not much
above two miles, and by the road it is every step of six, or six and a
half; and if we walk as we're doing now, we'll be there at least twenty
minutes before them.”
“But what will Repton think of my leaving him in this fashion?”
“That it was a bit of your usual eccentricity,--no more,” said the
other, laughing.
“You are quite certain of what you've just told me?” asked Jack, after a
pause.
“I tell you that you shall have it from Hosey's own lips. He showed the
post-mark on the back of the letter to Father Rafferty, and it was 'Cape
Town, August 24.' Now, as Hosey knows young Martin's writing as well as
any man, what doubt can there be about it?”
“By that calculation,” said Jack, thoughtfully, “he might be here within
the present month!”
“Exactly what Father Neal said.”
“A shrewd fellow that same Hosey must be to put things together in this
fashion,” said Jack. “Such a head as he has on his shoulders might n't
be a bad counsellor at this moment.”
“Just come and talk to him a bit,” rejoined Magennis; “say you want
to be trimmed about the whiskers, and he'll be a proud man to have you
under his hand.”
“And the committee are satisfied with my letter?” asked Jack.
“They are, and they are not; but, on the whole, they think it's a step
in the right direction to get anything out of the Martins, and, as
Father Neal remarks, 'where we can pass with our head, we can put our
whole body through.'”
“But what 's to be done about Nelligan? The breach with him is, I
suspect, irreparable.”
“Why, it was Nelligan himself moved the first resolution in the
committee, that your address be accepted as embodying the views--he said
the present views--of the liberal electors.”
“You amaze me!” cried Massingbred; “and Joe, where was he?”
“Joe is off to Dublin; there 's some examination or other he must
attend. But old Dan is your friend, rely upon that.”
“This is inexplicable,” muttered Jack to himself.
“We 'll go there, straight, the moment we get into the town. He 'll take
it as a great compliment; and you can talk to him frankly and openly,
for old Dan is a man to be trusted.”
“I wish I could guess at how this reconciliation has been effected,”
muttered Jack.
“It was your letter did it, I think.”
“But I never wrote one.”
“Well, somebody else did, perhaps; at all events, Dan had an open letter
in his hand when he addressed the committee, and said, 'After reading
this, gentlemen,' said he, 'I can only say that I 'll not oppose Mr.
Massingbred; and if the free and independent men of Oughterard ask
me who is the man to represent them, I'll answer, he 's your man!
And what's more, there 's my name down for two hundred pounds for the
election, if it ever comes to be a contest!'”
“This is all very good, but very strange news,” cried Jack.
“Well, I can explain nothing of the mystery, if there be one. I only
know what I heard and saw myself.”
“Let us go to his house, at all events,” said Massingbred, who now
suffered his companion to rattle on about the state of parties and
politics in Oughterard, little heeding his remarks, and only bent on
following out his own thoughts. “Give whom the slip?” asked he, suddenly
catching at the last words of some observation of Magennis.
“The Martins, of course,” resumed the other; “for, as Father Neal says,
'if we can secure the borough for you, you can well afford to stand by
_us_; but if you were only Martin's member, he 'd drop you whenever it
suited him.'”
“As to-morrow, for instance, if his son should make his appearance!”
“Just so; and that's the very reason for not losing a minute about
getting the Martins in for the cost. What can they say, after choosing
you and putting you forward?”
“They might make a personal appeal to me,--a distinct request to give
place to the son.”
“And would n't you pay great attention to it?” said Magennis, in
mockery.
“I 'm not so very sure I 'd refuse,” said Massingbred, slowly.
“Faith, then, you 'd better be candid enough to tell the electors so 'at
once.' Look now, Mr. Massingbred,” said he, coming to a dead halt, and
standing directly in front of him; “we don't go the same road, not one
step, till I hear from you, distinctly and plainly, what you mean to
do.”
“This is somewhat of a peremptory proceeding,” replied Jack. “I think it
would not be very unreasonable to allow a man in my situation a little
time for reflection.”
“Reflect upon what?” cried Magennis. “Is it what politics you 'd be? If
that's what you mean, I think you 'd better say nothing about it.”
“Come, come, Mac, you are not quite fair in this business; there _are_
difficulties,--there are embarrassments very often in the way of doing
things which we have made up our minds to do. Now, if I were perfectly
certain that the liberal interest here could succeed in spite of
Martin--”
“So it will.”
“You're sure of that?”
“I 'll show it to you on paper. We 'd rather have Martin with us and no
contest, because it's cheaper; but if it must come to money, we 'll do
it.”
“Satisfy me on that point, and I'm with you; there's my hand on't!”
And Magennis grasped him in his own strong fingers to ratify the
contract.
While “Mac” went on to give some insight into the views and wishes of
his party, they reached the town and entered the main street, and held
their way towards old Nelligan's shop.
“That's Father Neal's pony at the door,” said Mac, as they approached
the shop; “so we'll find them both together.”
“I scarcely think I can enter here,” said Massingbred, “after what
passed last between us. We surely did not part as friends.”
“How little you know about us at all!” said Mac. “Old Dan bears you no
malice, I 'd lay fifty pounds on it! But, if you like, I 'll just step
in and take soundings.”
“Do so, then,” said Massingbred, not sorry to have even a few moments to
himself for quiet thought and consideration. He was still standing, and
deeply engrossed by his reflections, when he was aroused by hearing his
name called aloud, and, on looking up, perceived Magennis beckoning to
him from a window overhead. In obedience to the signal, Jack turned and
entered the shop, where his friend quickly joined him. “Old Dan is in
his bed, with a heavy cold and a rheumatism, but he 'll see you; and
Father Neal's with him, and Hayes, besides.” And with this information
he hurried Jack up the stairs, and led him into a darkened room, where
the figures of the priest and old Hayes were dimly discernible. Before
Massingbred had well crossed the door-sill, Nelligan called out, “Your
servant, Mr. Massingbred. I 'm more than pleased with your explanation.
Let me shake your hand once more.”
“I'm not quite sure that I understand you,” said Jack, in a low voice;
but before he could continue, the priest advanced to greet him, followed
by old Peter.
“Wasn't I in luck to catch him on the road this morning?” said Magennis;
“he was coming in with the old Counsellor, and just got out to walk up a
hill--”
“Remember,” said Jack, “that I have few minutes to spare, for I must be
in waiting about the market-place when he drives in.”
“We must have a conference, though,” said Father Neal; “there 's much to
be settled. First of all, are we to coalesce for the representation?”
“No, no, no!” cried Nelligan. “We 'll have it our own way. If Mr.
Massingbred will be our Member, we want no help from the Martins.”
“There 's five pounds, and I 'll make it guineas if you like,” said old
Hayes, putting a note upon the table; “but the devil a Whig or Tory
will ever get more out of Peter Hayes!”
A very good-natured laugh from the others showed how little umbrage the
frank avowal excited.
“We 'll not want for money, Peter, make your mind easy about that,” said
Dan. “When can you meet the committee, Mr. Massingbred? Could you say
to-night?”
“Better to-morrow morning. I must return to Cro' Martin this evening.”
“Certainly,--of course,” said Father Neal, blandly. “You 'll have to
come to an understanding with Mr. Martin about the borough, declare what
your principles are, and how, upon very mature consideration, you find
you can't agree with the opinions of himself and his party.”
Magennis winked significantly at Jack, as though to say, “Listen
to _him; he 's_ the man to instruct and direct you;” and the priest
resumed:--
“Go on to explain that your only utility in the House could arise from
your being the exponent of what you feel to be the truth about Ireland,
the crying evils of the Established Church, and the present tenure of
land! When you throw these two shells in, sir, the town will be on fire.
He 'll reply that under these circumstances there 's no more question
about your standing for the borough; you'll say nothing,--not a word,
not a syllable; you only smile. If Repton 's by--and he 's likely to
be--he 'll get hot, and ask you what you mean by that--”
“There 's Scanlan just driving round the corner,” said Magennis, in a
whisper; and Massingbred arose at once and drew nigh to the bedside.
“Could I say one word to you alone, Mr. Nelligan?” said he, in a low
voice.
“Of course,” said he. And whispering the priest to take the others into
an adjoining room, old Nelligan motioned Jack to sit down beside him.
“You said, as I came in,” said Jack, “that you were satisfied with my
explanation--”
“To be sure I was,” broke in Dan. “All I wanted to know was, that you
acted under a misconception. That being once explained, there was no
offence on either side. Now, Catty Henderson's letter to my wife put the
thing straight at once; she showed that _your_ conduct at Cro' Martin
arose out of a notion that Joe had slighted you.”
[Illustration: 302]
“Have you got this letter?” asked Jack, eagerly.
“Indeed, then, I have not; his mother forwarded it to Joe by the same
post; but, as I tell you I 'm satisfied, there 's an end of it.”
“Scanlan 's asking for you below stairs,” said Magennis, putting in his
head; “and I hear them saying that they didn't see you in town.”
“All right,” said Jack; “so I'll just slip out by the garden gate and
meet him in the market-square.” And with a hurried leave-taking Jack
withdrew, his mind very far from that state of tranquil composure in
which it was his pride to affect that he invariably revelled.
“There they go!” cried Father Neal, shortly after, as Scanlan drove
rapidly by, with Massingbred beside him. “Maybe Master Maurice won't
abuse us all round before he turns in at the gate of Cro' Martin!”
“Massingbred is too cute to mind him,” said Magennis.
“Ah, Tom, there 's one appeal men of his stamp are never deaf to. You
may say fifty things that won't shock them in religion or morals or good
taste; but only utter the one word 'vulgar,' and their indignation rises
at once. That's what Scanlan will do, take my word for it He 'll call us
a low set of fellows, that have no position in society,--no acceptance
anywhere.”
“But Massingbred is a gentleman born, and he won't be led astray by such
a consideration.”
“It is exactly for that very reason that he will,” said the priest,
stoutly. “It's a strange fact, but there 's no manner of man rates
social advantages so high as he that has them by right, and without any
struggle for them.”
“Well,” said old Hayes, slowly, “if I once thought that of him, the
devil a vote of mine he 'd get, no matter what his principles were.”
“And there you 're wrong, Peter,” said Nelligan. “Matters of good
manners and breeding need never be discussed between us. Mr. Massingbred
will have _his_ station; we'll have _ours_. There 's a long and weary
road before us ere we come to think of our social condition. There
's many a cruel statute to be abolished, many a hard grievance to be
redressed.”
“And besides that,” said Father Neal, with a shrewd twinkle in his eye,
“while we 're doing the one we 'll be helping on the other. Political
influence always did, and always will, include rank and station in the
world. When English Ministers find their best ally in the Irish Priest,
there will be no more sneers at his brogue nor his boots. Men of family
and fortune won't shrink from their contact, and maybe you 'll see
the day yet when coaches and chariots will drive up to the chapel, and
ladies in satin and velvet step out to hear Mass.”
A prophetic view of the Millennium itself could not have astonished
old Peter Hayes more completely than did this marvellous suggestion of
Father Neal; and he moved away muttering a “Heaven grant it!” between
his teeth.
“Where's the next meeting of the committee to be?” asked Nelligan.
“In the Chapel House, to-morrow, at eleven. And that reminds me I 've
not sent out the summonses.” And so saying, Father Neal hastily took
leave of his friends and left the room.
Let us take a glance at Mr. Maurice Scanlan, as, with an extra box-coat
ingeniously wrapped around his lower man, he discoursed pleasantly to
his companion while he “tooled” along towards Cro' Martin. Not a word
of politics, not a syllable on the subject of party, escaped him as
he talked. His conversation was entirely of sporting matters: the odds
against Leander, the last bettings on “Firebrand,” whether Spicy Bill
was really in bad training, as the knowing ones said, and if the course
wouldn't “puzzle the young ones” if the wet weather were to continue.
Massingbred was sufficiently well versed in these classic themes to be
an amusing and even instructive companion, and communicated many a sly
piece of intelligence that would have been deemed priceless in “Bell's
Life;” and Scanlan quickly conceived a high estimate for one who had
graduated at Newmarket, and taken honors at Goodwood.
“After the kind of life you 've led in England, I wonder how you endure
this country at all,” said Maurice, with real sincerity of voice and
manner.
“I like it,” said Jack; “the whole thing is new to me, and vastly
amusing. I don't mean to say I 'd willingly pass a lifetime in this
fashion, but for a few weeks--”
“Just so; to give you a better relish for the real thing when you go
back again,” said Maurice.
“What a neat stepper that leader is!” said Jack, to change the topic
from himself and his own affairs. “She's a well-bred one; that's clear.”
“Nearly full-bred; the least bit of cocktail in the world. She's out of
Crescent, that ran a very good third for the Oaks.”
“A strong horse, and a very honest one,” said Jack.
“Well, I bought that little mare from young Mr. Martin--the
Captain--when he was ordered out to India; I put her in training, and
ran her at the Curragh in three weeks, and won, too, the St. Lawrence
Handicap.”
“Is Captain Martin a sporting character?” asked Jack, carelessly.
“He is and he is not,” said Scanlan, half querulously. “He likes a safe
thing,--do you understand?” and he gave a most significant wink as he
spoke.
“Oh, then he's close about money matters?” said Massingbred.
“Not exactly that. He 's wasteful and spendthrift, but he'd go to the
world's end to do a knowing thing; you 've seen men of that kind?”
“Scores of them,” replied Jack; “and they were always the easiest
fellows to be duped!”
“Exactly my own experience,” said Scanlan, delighted to find his
opinions confirmed in such a quarter. “Now, young Martin would give five
hundred pounds for a horse to win a fifty pound cup. Don't you know what
I mean?”
“Perfectly,” said Massingbred, with an approving smile.
“Nobody knows the sums he has drawn since he went away,” exclaimed
Scanlan, who was momentarily growing more and more confidential.
“There 's a deal of high play in India; perhaps he gambles,” said Jack,
carelessly.
A significant wink and nod gave the answer.
“Well, well,” added he, after a pause, “he 'll not mend matters by
coming back again.”
“And is he about to visit England?” asked Massingbred, in the same easy
tone.
“So they say,” replied Scanlan, with an effort at the easy indifference
of the other.
“On leave, perhaps?” said Jack, indolently.
“That 's more than I know,” replied he, and relapsed into a thoughtful
silence, during which Massingbred continued to scan his features with a
sly, downcast glance peculiar to himself.
“You've never been in Leicestershire, Mr. Scanlan?” said he, when he
had fully satisfied himself with his examination. “Well, then, come over
there in the spring--say about March next--and pay me a visit. I 've got
a sort of hunting-box there, with a neat stable, and by that time I hope
to raise funds for a couple of nags.”
“Trust _me_ for the horseflesh, sir. I know where to mount you this very
minute. You 're not much above eleven stone?”
“Eleven-eight,--at least, so I used to be. Is it a bargain? Will you
come?”
“There's my hand on't,” said the attorney, overjoyed at the prospect.
“Mackworth, and Lord Harry Coverdale, and Sir Went-worth Danby, and
a few more, are all my neighbors. Capital fellows, whom you 'll be
delighted with. Just the sort of men to suit you,--up to everything that
means sport.”
“Exactly what I like!” cried Maurice, in ecstasy.
“We'll arrange it all this evening, then,” said Jack. “Just drop into my
room after they 're all gone to bed, and we'll have a talk over it. You
don't know my father, do you?”
“I haven't that honor,” said Scanlan, with an accent of real deference
in his voice.
“Another kind of person from these I've mentioned,” said Jack, slowly.
“So I should suppose, sir,” said Scanlan, a tone of respect
involuntarily attaching itself to him as he addressed the son of a
Secretary of State.
“Not that he doesn't like field sports, and all the enjoyments of a
country life. But, you know, he's an old official--a Downing Street
veteran--who really relishes public business, just as you and I would a
coursing-match, or a heavy pool at Crocky's.”
Scanlan nodded as if in perfect assent.
“While I say this, it's only fair to add that he has most excellent
qualities, and is a stanch friend when he takes any one up. I suspect
you 'd like him. I know he 'd like your--”
“I 'm greatly flattered. I don't deserve--”
“You see,” said Jack, not heeding the interruption, and assuming the
low accents of a confidential communication--“You see, he and I have not
been on the very best of terms for some time back; I 've done some silly
things--spent a little more money than he liked--and, what was still
worse in his eyes, refused a first-rate Government appointment--a really
good thing, and such as one does n't meet with every day--and now, the
only road back to his favor will be for me to come out strongly in some
shape, either as a college prizeman or in public life. I despise the
former. It's all very well for fellows like Nelligan--it's their natural
'beat,'--but for a man like _me_, one who has seen the world,--the real
world,--these are nothing more than schoolboy distinctions,--the silver
medal he brings home of a Saturday, and makes him the wonder of his
sisters for twenty-four hours. I'll have to strike out a line of my
own!”
“No fear of you, sir,--devil a bit!” said Maurice, with a sententious
shake of the head. “Here we are now at Cro' Martin, and then there's the
first dinner-bell ringing.”
“We shall be late, perhaps,” said Jack.
“You'll be in good time. As for me, I haven't been asked to dinner, so
that when I drop you I 'll go down to the village.”
“Well, then, I 'll walk over and see you in the evening,” said
Massingbred. “It seems to me--I don't know whether you are of the same
opinion, though--but it seems strongly to me that you and I ought to be
allies.”
“If I thought I was worthy--”
“Come, come, Scanlan, no modesty, old boy. You know you 're a devilish
clever fellow, and you no more intend to pass your life cruising after
petty-session practice in Galway, than I do to settle down here as
under-gardener.”
“They 're all looking at us, sir, from the drawing-room window,” said
Scanlan, in a cautious voice; “don't let us appear too confidential.”
And at the same instant he extended his whip as though to point
attention to some distant object, and seem as if he were describing the
scenery.
“Shrewd dog it is,” muttered Massingbred in soliloquy, but taking good
care to be overheard. “I 'll beat up your quarters, Scanlan, in a
couple of hours or so,” said Massingbred, as he descended from the lofty
“drag.”
Somewhat, but not very much, later than the time appointed, Jack
Massingbred appeared in the small chamber of the “Crueskeen,”--the
humble hostel on the roadside adjoining the demesne of Cro' Martin.
Maurice Scanlan had made every preparation which the fluid resources of
the house admitted to receive his guest, but they were not destined to
be put in requisition.
“I have only come lest you should accuse me of forgetting you, Scanlan,”
said Massingbred, as he stood in the doorway without removing his hat.
“I 'm off to Oughter-ard, having made my adieux at Cro' Martin.”
“Left Cro' Martin, and for good!” exclaimed Scanlan.
“If that means forever, I suspect you 're right,” replied Jack; “but
you 'll have the whole story in the morning when you go up there, and
doubtless more impartially than I should tell it. And now, good-bye for
a brief space. We shall meet soon.” And, without waiting for an answer,
he nodded familiarly, stepped briskly to the door, where a post-chaise
awaited him, and was gone, before Scanlan had even half recovered from
his astonishment and surprise.