“Hark they come! they come!”
An unusual bustle and commotion in the little inn awoke Linton early
on the following morning. These were caused by the arrival of a host of
cooks, coachmen, grooms, footmen, and scullions, with a due proportion
of the other sex, all engaged in London, and despatched--“as per
order”--to form the household of Tubbermore.
As Linton proceeded with his dressing, he overheard the multifarious
complaints and lamentations of this town-reared population over the dirt
and destitution of their newly adopted land,--criticisms which, as
they scrupled not to detail aloud, evoked rejoinders not a whit more
complimentary to the Saxon; the hostess of the Goat--being an energetic
disciple of that great authority who has pronounced both the land and
its people as the paragons of creation--leading the van of the attack,
and certainly making up for any deficiencies in her cause by the force
of her eloquence.
“Arrah! who wanted ye here at all?” said she, addressing the circle,
stunned into silence by her volubility. “Who axed ye? Was it to plaze
us, or to fill yer pockets with the goold of ould Ireland, ye kem? Oh,
murther! murther!--is n't it the sin and the shame to think how the
craytures is eatin' us up! Faix! maybe ye 'll be sorry enough for it
yet. There's more than one amongst you would like to be safe home again,
afore long! A set of lazy thieves, no less. The heavens be my bed, but I
never thought I 'd see the day they 'd be bringing a 'naygur' to Ireland
to teach us music!”
This singular apostrophe, which seemed to fill the measure of her woe,
so far attracted Linton's curiosity to comprehend it, that he opened the
window and looked out, and at once discovered, by the direction of the
eyes of the circle, the object of the sarcasm. He was a well-built man,
of a dark swarthy complexion and immense beard and mustache, who sat on
a stone bench before the door, occupied in arranging the strings of his
guitar. The air of unmoved tranquillity showed that he did not suspect
himself to be the butt of any sarcasm, and he pursued his task with a
composure that vouched for his ignorance of the language.
[Illustration: 392]
“Who is our friend?” said Linton, addressing the coachman, and pointing
to the musician.
“We calls him Robinson Crusoe, sir,” replied the other; “we took him up
on the road from Limerick. We never seed him afore.”
“So, then, he doesn't belong to our force. I really had begun to fear
that Mr. Gunter had pushed enlistment too far.”
Meanwhile the stranger, attracted by the voice, looked up, and seeing
Linton, immediately removed his cap, with an air of quiet courtesy that
was not lost upon the shrewd observer to whom it was tendered.
“You are a sailor, I perceive?” said Tom, as he walked out in front of
the inn. The other shook his head dubiously.
“I was asking,” said Linton, changing his language to French, “if you
had been a sailor?”
“Yes, sir,” replied he, again removing his cap, “a sailor from Trieste.”
“And how came you here?”
“Our vessel was lost off the Blasquets, sir, on Wednesday night. We
were bound for Bristol with fruit from Sicily, and caught in a gale; we
struck, and all were lost, except myself and another, now in hospital in
the large city yonder.”
“Were you a petty officer, or a common seaman?” said linton, who had
been scanning with keen eye the well-knit frame and graceful ease of the
speaker.
“A common sailor, sir,” rejoined he, modestly.
“And how comes it that you are a musician, friend?” asked Linton,
shrewdly.
“Every one is in my country, sir--at least, with such humble skill as I
possess.”
“What good fortune it was to have saved your guitar from shipwreck!”
rejoined Linton, with an incredulous twinkle of his gray eyes.
“I did not do so, sir,” said the sailor, who either did not, or would
not, notice the sarcasm. “My good friends here”--pointing to the
servants--“bought this for me in the last town we came through.”
Linton again fixed his eyes upon him; it was evident that he was
hesitating between belief and an habitual sense of distrust, that
extended to everything and everybody. At last he said,--
“And what led you hither, my friend?”
“Chance,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders. “I could have no
preferences for one road over another--all were strange--all unknown
to me. I hoped with the aid of my guitar, to get some clothes once more
together, and then to find some vessel bound for the Adriatic.”
“What can you do besides that?” said Linton, “for it strikes me a fellow
with thews and sinews like yours was scarcely intended to thrum catgut.”
“I can do most things where a steady eye, and a strong; hand, and
a quick foot are needed. I 've been a hunter in the forests of
Dalmatia--herded the half-wild cattle on the Campagna at Rome--sailed a
felucca in the worst Levanters of the gulf--and to swim in a high sea,
or to ride an unbroken horse, I'll yield to but one man living.”
“And who may he be?” said Linton, aroused at the southern enthusiasm so
suddenly excited.
“A countryman of mine,” said the sailor, sententiously; “his name is not
known to you.”
“How sad such gifts as these should have so little recompense in our
days,” said Linton, with an affected sincerity. “There was a time, in
your own country, too, when a fellow like yourself would not have had
long to seek for a patron.”
The Italian's cheek grew deeper in its flush, and his dark eyes seemed
almost to kindle beneath the shaggy brows; then correcting, as it
seemed, the passionate impulse, he said: “Ay, true enough, sir; there
were many who had the gold to squander, who had not the hand to strike,
and, as you say, fellows like me were high in the market.”
“And no great hardship in it, either,” said Linton. “There is a justice
surer and quicker than the law, which I, for one, think right well of.”
Either not following the import of the speech, or not caring to concur
in it, the Italian did not reply.
“I have a notion that we may find out some employment for you here,”
said Linton. “What name are we to call you?”
“Giovanni,” said the sailor, after a moment's hesitation, which did not
escape the shrewdness of his questioner.
“Giovanni be it,” said Linton, easily; “as good as another.”
“Just so,” rejoined the Italian, with a hardihood that seemed to sit
easily upon him.
“I think, friend,” said Linton, drawing nearer to him--and, although the
foreign language in which he spoke effectually prevented the others from
understanding what passed, instantly his voice dropped into a lower and
more confidential tone--“I think, friend, we shall soon understand each
other well. You are in want of a protector; I may yet stand in need of
an attached and zealous fellow. I read people quickly, and it seems to
me that we are well met. Stay here, then; we shall soon have a large
company arriving, and I 'll try and find out some exercise for your
abilities.”
The Italian's dark eyes flashed and twinkled as though his subtle nature
had already enlarged upon the shadowy suggestions of the other, and he
made a significant gesture of assent.
“Remember, now, in whose service you are,” said Linton, taking out his
purse, and seeking among its contents for the precise piece of coin he
wanted--“remember, that I am not the master here, but one who has to the
full as much power, and that I can prove a strong friend, and, some say,
a very dangerous enemy. Here is the earnest of our bargain,” said he,
handing him a guinea in gold; “from this hour I count upon you.”
The Italian nodded twice, and pocketing the money with a cool audacity
that told that such contracts were easily comprehended by him, touched
his cap, and sauntered away, as though to follow out some path of his
own choosing. Linton looked after him for a moment, but the next
his attention was taken off by seeing that Mr. Corrigan and his
granddaughter were advancing hastily towards him.
“So you have really accepted my suggestion,” said Mary, with a flush
of pleasure on her cheek; “the door has been opened, and the vista is
exactly as my dream revealed it.”
“In all save the chief ingredient,” replied Linton, laugh-. ing; “we
want the monk and the casket.”
“Hush!” said she, cautiously; “grandpapa is a firm believer in all
dreams and visions, and would not hear them spoken of irreverently.”
“Assuredly, I never was less in the mind to do so,” replied Linton, with
a degree of earnestness that made Mary smile, little suspecting at the
time to what his speech owed its fervor.
“We've come to take a last look at the 'Hall,' Mr. Linton,” said the old
man. “Tom Keane tells me that your gay company will soon arrive; indeed,
rumor says that some have already reached Limerick, and will be here
to-morrow.”
“This is more than I knew of,” said Linton; “but here comes the
redoubted Tom himself, and with a full letter-bag, too.” Hastily
unlocking the leather sack, Tom Linton emptied its contents upon a
grassy bench, where the party seated themselves to learn the news.
“There are no secrets here,” said Linton, tossing over the letters,
with nearly all of whose handwriting he was familiar; “help me, Miss
Leicester, I beg, to get through my task. Pray break some of the seals,
and tell us who our dear friends are whose presence is so soon to charm
and enliven us. And will you, too, sir, bear your part?” Thus invited,
old Mr. Corrjgan put on his spectacles, and slowly prepared to assist in
the labor.
“That's the Dean's hand, Miss Leicester--the Dean of Drumcondera. I hope
he 's not coming; I 'm sure he was never invited.”
“He regrets he cannot be with you this week, but will certainly come
next, and take the liberty of presenting his distinguished friend,
the Hofrath von Dunnersleben, professor of Oriental Literature at
Hochenkanperhausen.”
“This is painting the lily with a vengeance; 'color on color' is bad
heraldry, but what shall we say of the taste that brings 'bore upon
bore'?”
“'Mrs. Leicester White has prevailed upon Mr. Howie to defer his
departure from Ireland--'”
“This is too bad,” interrupted Linton. “What fortune have you, sir? I
hope better tidings than Miss Leicester.”
“This is a strange kind of scrawl enough,” said the old man; “it
runs thus:--'Dear Tom, we are starting for your wild regions this
evening--two drags and a mail phaeton. I have sent Gipsy and the white
fetlocked colt by Hericks, and will bring Tom Edwards with me. The
mare looks well, but fleshy; you must look to it that we haven't heavy
ground--'”
“Oh, I know who that's from,” said Linton, hastily taking the letter
from Corrigan's hand; “it's Lord Charles Frobisher,--a silly fellow,
that never thinks of anything but horse-racing and training.”
“He would seem to speculate on something of the kind here,” said
Corrigan; “at least, it looks very like premeditation, this sending off
grooms and racers.”
“He does so everywhere he goes,” said Linton, affecting to laugh; “a
surgeon would no more travel without his lancets, than Charley without
some chance of a 'match;' but what's this?
“Dear Mr. Cashel,--I and my little girl are already _en route_ for
your hospitable castle, too happy to assist in the celebration of your
house-warming--”
“Oh, that's Meek,” said Linton. “And now for this rugged little hand
here.
“Lady Janet and Sir Andrew MacFarline--”
“Strange style,--the lady first,” interposed Miss Leicester.
“She is always so,” said Linton, continuing the perusal--
--“will reach Tubbermore by Tuesday, and have only to request that their
apartments may not have a north aspect, as Lady J. has still a heavy
cold hanging over her. Sir A.'s man, Flint, will arrange the rooms
himself and, with Mr. Cashel's permission, give directions about double
doors--if there be none.
“Sir A. has taken the liberty of mentioning to Gordon that the sherry
is far too hot and acrid, and hopes Mr. Cashel will pardon his having
ordered some dozens of 'Amontillado' for trial. Lady J. asks, as a
favor, that plants and flowers may be banished from the house during her
brief stay, Dr. Grimes positively forbidding all herbaceous odors; and
if the cook could make the 'cuisine' particularly simple, it would also
oblige her, as Dr. G. says she ought not to be exposed to the irritation
of tempting viands, even to see them at table.
“Lady J. hopes that the society will be cheerful without dissipation,
and gay without debauch; above all, she stipulates for early hours, and
trusts that by eleven, at latest, the house will have retired to rest.
Lady Janet has no objection to meeting any one Mr. Cashel may honor with
his invitation, but leaves it to Mr. C.'s discretion not to abuse this
liberality. Were she to particularize, she should merely suggest that
the Kennyfecks, except perhaps the elder girl, are odious--Mrs. White a
perfect horror--the Meeks something too atrocious--and that rather
than meet the Kilgoffs and their set, Lady J. would almost prefer to
relinquish all her much-anticipated pleasure. Mr. Linton can be,
and very often is, gentlemanlike and amusing, but 'Lintonism,' as
occasionally practised, is intolerable.
“Lady Janet has ventured on these remarks, far less for her own
convenience than in the discharge of what she feels to be a duty to
a very young and inexperienced man, whose unsuspecting nature will
inevitably expose him to the very insidious attacks of selfishness,
cunning, and to that species of dictation that sooner or later ends in
debasing and degrading him who permits himself to be its subject.
“Janet MacFarline.”
“What a chaste specimen of disinterestedness her Ladyship's own letter,”
said Mary. “Is she a near relative, or a very old friend of Mr. Cashel's
family?”
“Neither; a mere acquaintance, undistinguished by anything like even a
passing preference.”
“She is a Lady Janet,” interposed old Corrigan, “and it is surprising
what charms of influence pertain to those segments of great families,
as they descend a scale in society, and live among the untitled of the
world; besides that, whatever they want in power, they 'take out' in
pretension, and it does quite as well.”
“She is 'mauvaise langue,'” said Linton; “and there are few qualities
obtain such sway in society. But who comes here in such haste? It is Tom
Keane. Well, Tom, what has happened--is the Hall on fire?”
“No, sir; but the company 's comin' rowlin' in as fast as 'pays'
down the big avenue, and into the coort; there was three coaches all
together, and I see two more near the gate.”
“Then we shall leave you to your cares of host,” said Corrigan, rising;
“but don't forget that when affairs of state permit, we shall be
delighted to see you at the cottage.”
“Oh, by all means, Mr. Linton. I have acquired the most intense
curiosity to hear about your fine company and their doings--pray
compassionate my inquisitiveness.”
“But will you not join us sometimes?” said Linton; “can I not persuade
you to make part of our little company? for I trust we shall be able to
have some society worth showing you.”
The old man shook his head and made a gesture of refusal.
“Nay,” said he, “I am so unfitted for such scenes, and so grown out of
the world's ways, that I am going to play hermit, and be churlish enough
to lock the wicket that leads down to the cottage during the stay of
your visitors--not against _you_, however. You'll always find the key at
the foot of the holly-tree.”
“Thanks--I'll not forget it,” said Linton; and he took a cordial leave
of his friends, and returned to the house, wondering as he went who were
the punctual guests whose coming had anticipated his expectations.
He was not long in doubt upon this point, as he perceived Mr. Phillis,
who, standing on the terrace before the chief entrance, was giving
directions to the people about, in a tone of no small authority.
“What, Phillis! has your master arrived?” cried Linton, in astonishment.
“Oh, Mr. Linton!” cried the other, obsequiously, as hat in hand he made
his approaches, “there has been such a business since I wrote--”
“Is he here? Is he come?” asked Linton, impatiently.
“No, sir, not yet; nor can he arrive before to-morrow evening. You
received my letter, I suppose, about the result of the yachting-party
and Lady Kilgoff?”
“No! I know not one word about it,” said Linton, with a firmness that
showed how well he could repress any trace of anxiety or excitement.
“Come this way, out of the hearing of these people, and tell me
everything from the beginning.”
Phillis obeyed, and walked along beside him, eagerly narrating the whole
story of Cashel's departure, to the moment when the yacht foundered, and
the party were shipwrecked off the coast of Wexford.
“Well, go on,” said Linton, as the other came to a full stop. “What
then?”
“A few lines came from Mr. Cashel, sir, with orders for certain things
to be sent down to a little village on the coast, and directions for me
to proceed at once to Tubbermore and await his arrival.”
Linton did not speak for some minutes, and seemed totally occupied with
his own reflections, when by hazard he caught the words “her Ladyship
doing exactly as she pleases--”
“With whom?” asked he, sternly.
“With Mr. Cashel, sir; for it seems that notwithstanding all the terror
and danger of the late mishap, Mr. Sickleton has been despatched to
Cowes to purchase the 'Queen of the Harem,' Lord Wellingham's new yacht,
and this at Lady Kilgoff's special instigation. Mr. Sickleton slept one
night at our house in town, and I took a look at his papers; there was
nothing of any consequence, however, except a memorandum about 'Charts
for the Mediterranean,' which looks suspicious.”
“I thought, Phillis, I had warned you about the Kilgoff intimacy. I
thought I had impressed you with the necessity of keeping them from
him.”
“So you had, sir; and, to the very utmost of my power, I did so; but
here was a mere accident that foiled all my care and watchfulness.”
“As accidents ever do,” muttered Linton, with suppressed passion. “The
game of life, like every other game, is less to skill than chance! Well,
when can they be here?”
“To-morrow afternoon, sir, if not delayed by something unforeseen;
though this is not at all unlikely, seeing the difficulty of getting
posters. There are from thirty to forty horses engaged at every stage.”
“Whom have we here?” cried Linton, as a large travelling-carriage
suddenly swept round the drive, and entered the court.
“Sir Andrew MacFarline's baggage, sir; I passed them at the last change.
One would say, from the preparations, that they speculate on a somewhat
lengthy visit. What rooms are we to assign them, sir?”
“The four that look north over the billiard-room and the hall; they are
the coldest and most cheerless in the house. Your master will occupy the
apartments now mine; see, here is the plan of the house; Lord and Lady
Kilgoff have 4, 5, and 6. These that are not marked you may distribute
how you will. My quarters are those two, beyond the library.”
Linton was here interrupted by the advance of a tall, stiff-looking
old fellow, who, carrying his hand to his hat in military guise, stood
straight before him, saying, in a very broad accent, “The gen'ral's mon,
sir, an't please ye.”
“Well, friend, and what then?” replied Linton, half testily.
“I 've my leddy's orders, sir, to tak' up a good position, and a warm
ane, in the hoos yonder, and if it's no askin' too much, I 'd like to
speer the premises first.”
“Mr. Phillis, look after this, if you please,” said Linton, turning
away; “and remember my directions.”
“Come with me, friend,” said Phillis; “your mistress, I suppose, does
not like cold apartments?”
“Be ma saul, if she finds them so, she 'll mak' the rest of the hoos
over warm for the others,” said he, with a sardonic grin, that left
small doubt of his sincere conviction.
“And your master?” said Phillis, in that interrogatory tone which
invites a confidence.
“The gen'ral 's too auld a soldier no to respec deescepline,” said he,
dryly.
“Oh, that's it, Sanders.”
“Ma name's Bob Flint, and no Saunders,--gunner and driver i' the Royal
Artillery,” said the other, drawing himself up proudly; “an' if we are
to be mair acquaint, it's just as well ye 'd mind that same.”
As Bob Flint possessed that indescribable something which would seem, by
an instinct, to save its owner from impertinences, Mr. Phillis did not
venture upon any renewed familiarity, but led the way into the house in
silence.
“That's a bra' cookin' place ye've got yonder,” said Bob, as he stopped
for a second at the door of the great kitchen, where already the cooks
were busied in the various preparations; “but I'm no so certain my leddy
wad like to see a bra' giggot scooped out in tha' fashion just to mak'
room for a wheen black potatoes inside o' it;”--the operation alluded
to so sarcastically being the stuffing of a shoulder of mutton with
truffles, in Provencal mode.
“I suppose her Ladyship will be satisfied with criticising what comes
to table,” said Phillis, “without descending to the kitchen to make
objections.”
“If she does, then,” said Flint, “she's mair ceevil to ye here than she
was in the last hoos we spent a fortnight, whar she discharged twa maids
for no making the beds as she'd taw'd them, forbye getting the coachman
turned off because the carriage horses held their tails ower high for
her fancy.”
“We'll scarce put up with that here,” said Phillis, with offended
dignity.
“I dinna ken,” said Bob, thoughtfully; “she made her ain nephew carry
a pound o' dips from the chandler's, just, as she said, to scratch his
pride a bit. I 'd ha' ye mind a wee hoo ye please her fancy. You 're a
bonnie mon, but she'll think leetle aboot sending ye packing.”
Mr. Phillis did not deign a reply to this speech, but led the way to the
suite destined for her Ladyship's accommodation.