The sherry iced,--the company still colder.
Bell: Images.
The party who now took their seats at table were not made of those
ingredients whose admixture accomplishes a social meeting. Their
natures, pursuits, and tastes were only sufficiently unlike to suggest
want of agreement, without possessing the broad contrasts that invite
conversation by their own contrariety. Besides this, there was a sense
of constraint over every one, from the absence of the host and his
expected guest; and lastly, the very aspect of a gorgeously decorated
table, with vacant places, has always a chilling influence over those
who sit around. A certain amount of propinquity is as essential to
conversation as good roads and easy distances are a necessary condition
to a visiting neighborhood. If you cannot address him or her who sits
beside you without attracting the attention of the whole table to your
remark, you are equally debarred from the commonplaces that induce
table-talk, or the smart thing that cannot well be said too publicly.
The dinner here proceeded in very stately quietude, nor were the efforts
of Mr. Jones to introduce a conversational spirit at all successful;
indeed, that gifted gentleman would have willingly exchanged the
unexceptionable cookery and admirably conditioned wine before him for
the riotous freedom of a bar mess,--where sour sherry and nisi-prius
jokes abounded, and Father Somebody's song was sure to give the scene
a conviviality that only yielded its fascination to blind hookey or
spoiled five.
Far otherwise the curate. The angelic smile that sat upon his features
mechanically; his low, soft, liquid voice; his gentle gestures; and even
his little sallies of pleasantry, were in perfect accordance with the
decorous solemnity of a scene where the chink of a cut decanter, or the
tingling sound of a silver dish-cover, were heard above the stillness of
the company.
If, then, Mr. Knox Softly accompanied the ladies to the door, and
followed them out with his eyes with an expression beaming regretfulness
at their departure, the Counsellor, very differently minded, surrounded
himself with an array of the dessert-dishes and decanters, and prepared
to discuss his wine and walnuts to his perfect contentment.
“You have never met this Mr. Roland Cashel, I believe?” said Mr. Softly,
as he filled a very large claret glass and tasted it enjoyably.
“Never,” replied Jones, whose teeth were busily engaged in smashing
almonds and filberts, in open defiance of a tray of silver nutcrackers
before him. “I don't think he has been in Ireland since a mere child,
and very little in England.”
“Then his recovery of the estate was quite unexpected?”
“Mere accident Kennyfeck came upon the proofs when making some searches
for a collateral claim. The story is very short. This lad's father,
whose name was Godfrey Cashel, was a poor lieutenant in the 81st, and
quartered at Bath, when he chanced to discover that a rich old bachelor
there, a certain Godfrey Browne, was a distant relation of his
mother. He lost no time in making his acquaintance and explaining the
relationship, which, however, brought him no more substantial benefit
than certain invitations to dinner and whist parties, where the
unfortunate lieutenant lost his half-crowns.
“At length a note came one morning inviting him to breakfast and to
'transact a little matter of business.' Poor Godfrey read the words with
every commentary that could flatter his hopes, and set out in better
spirits than he had known for many a year before. What, then, was
his dismay to discover that he was only wanted to witness the old
gentleman's will!--a very significant proof that he was not to benefit
by its provisions.
“With a very ill-repressed sigh, the poor lieutenant threw a glance over
the half-opened leaves, where leasehold, and copyhold, and freehold, and
every other 'hold' figured among funded property, consols, and reduced
annuities,--with money lent on mortgages, shares in various companies,
and What not,--a list only to be equalled by the long catalogue of
those 'next of kin,' who, to the number of seventeen, were mentioned as
reversionary heirs.
“'You are to sign your name here, Mr. Cashel,' said the solicitor,
pointing to a carefully-scratched portion of the parchment, where
already the initials were pencilled for his guidance.
“'Faith! and it's at the other side of the book I'd rather see it,' said
the lieutenant, with a sigh.
“'Not, surely, after seventeen others!' exclaimed the astonished
attorney.
“'Even so,--a chance is better than nothing.'
“'What's that he's saying?' interposed the old man, who sat reading his
newspaper at the fire. The matter was soon explained by the attorney,
and when he finished, Cashel added: 'That's just it; and I'm to sail for
the Cape on the 4th of next month, and if you 'll put me down among the
rest of the fellows, I 'll send you the best pipe of Constantia you
ever tasted, as sure as my name is Godfrey Cashel.'
“The old man threw his spectacles up on his forehead, wiped his eyes,
and then, replacing his glasses, took a deliberate survey of the poor
lieutenant who had proposed such a very 'soft' bargain. 'Eh! Clinchet,'
said he to the attorney, 'can we do this for him?'
“'Nothing easier, sir; let the gentleman come in last, as residuary
legatee, and it alters nothing.'
“'I suppose you count on your good luck,' said old Browne, grinning.
“'Oh, then, it's not from my great experience that way.' said Cashel.
'I 've been on the “Duke's list” for promotion seventeen years already,
and, for all I see, not a bit nearer than the first day; but there's no
reason my poor boy should be such an unfortunate devil. Who knows but
fortune may make amends to him one of these days? Come, sir, is it a
bargain?'
“'To be sure. I 'm quite willing; only don't forget the Constantia. It's
a wine I like a glass of very well indeed, after my dinner.'
“The remainder is easily told; the lieutenant sailed for the Cape,
and kept his word, even though it cost him a debt that mortgaged his
commission. Old Browne gave a great dinner when the wine arrived, and
the very first name on the list of legatees, his nephew, caught a fever
on his way home from it, and died in three weeks.
“Kennyfeck could tell us, if he were here, what became of each of them
in succession; four were lost, out yachting, at once; but, singular as
it may seem, in nineteen years from the day of that will, every life
lapsed, and, stranger still, without heirs; and the fortune has now
descended to poor Godfrey Cashel's boy, the lieutenant himself having
died in the West Indies, where he exchanged into a native regiment. That
is the whole story; and probably in a romance one would say that the
thing was exaggerated, so much more strange is truth than fiction.”
“And what kind of education did the young man get?”
“I suppose very little, if any. So long as his father lived, he of
course held the position of an officer's son,--poor, but in the rank of
gentleman. After that, without parents,--his mother died when he was an
infant,--he was thrown upon the world, and, after various vicissitudes,
became a cabin boy on board of a merchantman; then he was said to be a
mate of a vessel in the African trade employed on the Gold Coast,--just
as probably a slaver; and, last of all, he was lieutenant in the
Columbian navy,--which, I take it, is a very good name for piracy. It
was in the Havannah we got a trace of him, and I assure you, strange as
it may sound, Kennyfeck's agent had no small difficulty in persuading
him to abandon that very free-and-easy service, to assume the rights and
immunities of a very large property.
“Kennyfeck was to meet him on his arrival in England, about ten days
ago, and they spent a few days in London, and were--But hark! there
comes a carriage now,--yes, I know the step of his horses; here they
are!”