If you show him in Hyde Park--Lauk! how they will stare!
Though a very smart figure in Bloomsbury Square,
The Snob.
Cashel's was not a nature to dwell upon a grievance, and he would have,
at once and forever, forgotten the late scene with Linton if it were
not coupled in his mind with suspicions derived from various different
sources. This made him silent and reserved as he walked along, and so
palpably inattentive to all his companion's efforts at agreeability that
Linton at last said, “Well, Cashel, if you can dispense with sleep, you
certainly seem to take the compensation in dreaming. Here have I been
retailing for you the choicest bits of gossip and small-talk, not only
without the slightest gratitude, but even without common attention on
your part!”
“Very true,” said Cashel; “the reproach is quite just, and no man can be
more agreeable at the expense of his friends than yourself.”
“Still harping on my daughter, eh?” cried Linton. “I never thought you
the man to misconstrue a jest; but if you really are offended with my
folly--”
“If I really were offended,” said Cashel, almost sternly, “I should not
leave it to be inferred from my manner.”
“That I am sure of,” cried Linton, assuming an air of frankness; “and
now, since all that silly affair is forgotten--”
“I did not say so much,” interrupted Cashel. “I cannot forget it; and
that is the very reason I am annoyed with myself, with you, and with all
the world.”
“Pooh! nonsense, man; you were not used to be so thin-skinned. Let us
talk of something else. Here are all our gay friends assembled: how are
we to occupy and amuse them?”
Cashel made no reply, but walked on, seemingly lost in thought.
“By the way,” said Linton, “you've told me nothing of your adventures.
Haven't you had something very like a shipwreck?”
“The yacht is lost,” said Cashel, dryly.
“Actually lost!” echoed the other, with well-assumed astonishment. “How
fortunate not to have had the Kennyfeck party on board, as I believe you
expected.”
“I had the Kilgoffs, however,” rejoined Roland.
“The Kilgoffs! you amaze me. How did my Lord ever consent to trust his
most precious self on such an enterprise?”
Cashel shrugged his shoulders, without uttering a word in reply.
“But come, do condescend to be a little more communicative. How, and
when, and where did the mishap occur?”
“She foundered on the southern coast some time after midnight on the
15th. The crew and passengers escaped by the boats, and the craft went
to pieces.”
“And the Kilgoffs, how did they behave in the moment of peril?”
“My Lord seemed insensible to all around; Lady Kilgoff with a dignified
courage quite admirable.”
“Indeed!” said Linton, slowly, while he fixed his eyes on Cashel's face,
where an expression of increased animation now displayed itself.
“She has a fine generous nature,” continued Cashel, not heeding the
remark. “It is one of the saddest things to think of, how she has been
mated.”
“She is a peeress,” said Linton, curtly.
“And what of that? Do your aristocratic distinctions close the heart
against every high and noble sentiment, or can they compensate for the
absence of every tie that attaches one to life? Is not some poor Indian
girl who follows her wild ranchero husband through the dark valleys of
Guiana, not only a happier, but a better wife than your proud peeress?”
Linton shook his head and smiled, but did not reply.
“I see how my old prejudices shock you,” said Cashel. “I only grieve to
think how many of them have left me; for I am sick--sick at heart--of
your gay and polished world. I am weary of its double-dealing, and
tired of its gilded falsehood. Since I have been a rich man, I have seen
nothing but the servile flattery of sycophancy, or the insidious snares
of deeper iniquity. There is no equality for one like myself. The
high-born wealthy would treat me as a _parvenu_, the vulgar rich only
reflect back my own errors in broader deformity. I have known no other
use of wealth than to squander it to please others; I have played high,
and lost deeply; I have purchased a hundred things simply because some
others wished to sell them; I have entertained and sat among my company,
waiting to catch and resent the covert insult that men pass upon such as
me; and will you tell me--you, who know the world well--that such a life
repays one?”
“Now, let me write the credit side of the account,” said Linton,
laughing, and affecting a manner of easy jocularity. “You are young,
healthy, and high-spirited, with courage for anything, and more money
than even recklessness can get rid of; you are the most popular fellow
among men, and the greatest favorite of the other sex, going; you get
credit for everything you do, and a hundred others that men know you
could, but have not done; you have warm, attached friends,--I can
answer for one, at least, who 'll lay down his life for you.” He paused,
expecting some recognition, but Cashel made no sign, and he resumed:
“You have only to propose some object to your ambition, whether it be
rank, place, or a high alliance, to feel that you are a favorite with
fortune.”
“And is it by knowing beforehand that one is sure to win that gambling
fascinates?” said Roland, slowly.
“If you only knew how the dark presage of failure deters the unlucky
man, you 'd scarce ask the question!” rejoined Linton, with an accent
of sorrow, by which he hoped to awaken sympathy. The stroke failed,
however, for Cashel took no notice of it.
“There goes one whose philosophy of life is simple enough,” said Linton,
as he stopped at a break in the holly hedge, beside which they were
walking, and pointed to Lord Charles, who, mounted on a blood-horse,
was leading the way for a lady, equally well carried, over some
sporting-looking fences.
“I say, Jim,” cried Frobisher, “let her go a little free at them; she 's
always too hot when you hold her back.”
“You don't know, perhaps, that Jim is the lady,” whispered Linton, and
withdrawing for secrecy behind the cover of the hedge. “Jim,” continued
Linton, “is the familiar for Jemima. She's Meek's daughter, and the
wildest romp--”
“By Jove! how well she cleared it. Here she comes back again,” cried
Cashel, in all the excitement of a favorite sport.
“That 's all very pretty, Jim,” called out Frobisher, “but let me
observe it's a very Brummagem style of thing, after all. I want you to
ride up to your fence with your mare in hand, touch her lightly on the
flank, and pop her over quietly.”
“She is too fiery for all that,” said the girl, as she held in the
mettlesome animal, and endeavored to calm her by patting her neck.
“How gracefully she sits her saddle,” muttered Cashel; and the
praise might have been forgiven from even a less ardent admirer of
equestrianism, for she was a young, fresh-looking girl, with large hazel
eyes, and a profusion of bright auburn hair which floated and flaunted
in every graceful wave around her neck and shoulders. She possessed,
besides, that inestimable advantage as a rider which perfect
fearlessness supplies, and seemed to be inspired with every eager
impulse of the bounding animal beneath her.
As Cashel continued to look, she had taken the mare a canter round a
large grass field, and was evidently endeavoring, by a light hand and
a soothing, caressing voice, to calm down her temper; stooping, as she
went, in the saddle to pat the animal's shoulder, and almost bending her
own auburn curls to the counter.
“She is perfect!” cried Roland, in a very ecstasy. “See that, Linton!
Mark how she sways herself in her saddle!”
“That comes of wearing no stays,” said Linton, dryly, as he proceeded to
light a cigar.
“Now she's at it. Here she comes!” cried Cashel almost breathless with
anxiety; for the mare, chafed by the delay, no sooner was turned towards
the fence once more, than she stretched out and dashed wildly at it.
It was a moment of intense interest, for the speed was far too great
to clear a high leap with safety; the fear was, however, but momentary,
for, with a tremendous bound, the mare cleared the fence, and, after
a couple of minutes' cantering, stood with heaving flanks and swelling
nostril beside the other horse.
“You see my misfortune, I suppose?” said the girl, addressing Frobisher.
“No. She 's not cut about the legs?” said he, as he bent down in his
saddle and took a most searching survey of the animal.
“No, the hack is all right But don't you perceive that bit of blue cloth
flaunting yonder on the hedge?--that is part of my habit. See what a
tremendous rent is here; I declare, Charley, it is scarcely decent” And
to illustrate the remark, she wheeled her horse round so as to show the
fringed and jagged end of her riding-habit, beneath which a very finely
turned ankle and foot were now seen.
“Then why don't you wear trousers, like everybody else?” said Frobisher,
gruffly, and scarce bestowing even a passing glance at the well-arched
instep.
“Because I never get time to dress like any one else. You order me out
like one of your Newmarket boys,” replied she, pettishly.
“By Jove! I wish any one of them had got your hand.”
“To say nothing of the foot, Charley,” said she, roguishly, and
endeavoring to arrange her torn drapery to the best advantage.
[Illustration: 432]
“No; that may do to astonish our friend Cashel, and make 'my lady'
jealous. By the way, Jim, I don't see why you should n't 'enter for the
plate' as well as the Kennyfeck girls.”
“I like _you_ better, Charley,” said she, curveting her horse, and
passaging him alternately from side to side.
“This is the second time to-day I have played the eavesdropper
unconsciously,” said Roland, in a whisper, “and with the proverbial
fortune of the listener in both cases.” And with these words he moved
on, leaving Linton still standing opposite the opening of the hedge.
Cashel had not advanced many paces beneath the shelter of the tall
hollies, when Frobisher accidentally caught sight of Linton, and called
out, “Ha, Tom,--found you at last! Where have you been hiding the whole
morning?--you that should, at least, represent our host here.”
Linton muttered something, while, by a gesture, he endeavored to caution
Frobisher, and apprise him of Cashel's vicinity. The fretful motion of
hie horse, however, prevented his seeing the signal, and he resumed,--
“One of my people tells me that Cashel came with the Kilgoffs this
morning. I say, Tom, you'll have to look sharp in that quarter. Son,
there--quiet, Gustave--gently, man!”
“He's too fat, I think. You always have your cattle too heavy,” said
Linton, hoping to change the topic.
“He carries flesh well. But what is it I had to tell you? Oh, I remember
now,--about the yacht club. I have just got a letter from Derwent, in
which he says the thing is impossible. His remark is more true than
courteous. He says, 'It's all very well in such a place as Ireland to
know such people, but that it won't do in England; besides that, if
Cashel does wish to get among men of the world, he ought to join some
light cavalry corps for a year or so, and stand plucking by Stanhope,
and Dashfield, and the rest of them. They 'll bring him out if he 'll
only pay handsomely.'--Soh, there, man,--do be quiet, will you?--The
end of it is, that Derwent will not put his name up. I must say it's a
disappointment to me; but, as a younger brother, I have only to smile
and submit.”
While Lord Charles was retailing this piece of information in no very
measured tone, and only interrupted by the occasional impatience of his
horse, Linton's eyes were fixed on Cashel, who, at the first mention of
his own name, increased his speed, so as to suggest the fond hope that
some, at least, of this unwelcome intelligence might have escaped him.
“You'll have to break the thing to him, Tom,” resumed Lord Charles. “You
know him better than any of us, and how the matter can be best touched
upon.”
“Not the slightest necessity for that, _now_,” said Linton, with a low,
deliberate voice.
“Why so?”
“Because you have just done so yourself. If you had only paid the least
attention to my signal, you 'd have seen that Cashel was only a few
yards in front of me during the entire of your agreeable revelations.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Frobisher, as his head dropped forward in
overwhelming confusion; “what is to be done?”
“Rather difficult to say, if he heard all,” said Linton, coolly.
“You 'd say it was a quiz, Tom. _You 'd_ pretend that you saw him all
the while, and only did the thing for joke's sake, eh?”
“Possibly enough I might,” replied Linton; “but _you_ could n't.”
“How very awkward, to be sure!” exclaimed Frobisher. “I say, Jim, I wish
you 'd make up to Cashel a bit, and get us out of this scrape. There's
Tom ready to aid and abet you, if only to take him out of the Kilgoffs'
way.”
“There never was a more propitious moment, Miss Meek,'” said Linton,
passing through the hedge, and approaching close to her. “He's a great
prize,--the best estate in Ireland.”
“The nicest stable of horses in the whole country,” echoed Frobisher.
“A good-looking fellow, too; only wanting a little training to make
presentable anywhere.”
“That white barb, with the flea-bitten flank, would carry you to
perfection, Jim.”
“He 'll be a peer one of these days, if he is only patient enough not to
commit himself in politics.”
“And such a hunting country for _you_,” said Frobisher, in ecstasy.
“I tell you I don't care for him; I never did,” said the girl, as a
flush of half-angry meaning colored her almost childish features.
“But don't you care to be mistress of fifteen thousand a year, and the
finest stud in Ireland?”
“Mayhap a countess,” said Linton, quietly. “Your papa would soon manage
that.”
“I 'd rather be mistress of myself, and this brown mare, Joan,
here,--that's all I know; and I'll have nothing to do with any of your
plots and schemes,” said she, in a voice whose utterance was that of
emotion.
“That's it,” said Frobisher, in a low tone to Linton; “there's no
getting them, at that age, with a particle of brains.”
“They make up surprisingly for it afterwards,” replied Linton, dryly.
“So you 'll not consent, Jim?” said Frobisher, in a half-coaxing manner
to the young girl, who, with averted head, sat in mingled sorrow and
displeasure. “Well, don't be pettish about it; I 'm sure I thought it
very generous in me, considering--”
She looked round at this moment, and her large eyes were bent upon him
with a look which their very tears made passionately meaning.
“Considering what a neat finger you have on a young horse,” said he. And
she turned abruptly away, and, as if to hide her emotion, spurred her
mare into a bounding canter.
“Take care, Charley, take care what you 're doing,” said Linton, with a
look of consummate shrewdness.
Frobisher looked after her for a minute or two, and then seemed to drop
into a revery, for he made no reply whatever.
“Let the matter stop where it is,” said Linton, quietly, as if replying
to some acknowledgment of the other; “let it stop there, I say, and one
of these days, when she marries,--as she unquestionably will do, through
papa Downie's means,--somebody of influence, she 'll be a steadfast,
warm friend, never forgetting, nor ever wishing to forget, her
childhood's companion. Go a little further, however, and you 'll just
have an equally determined enemy. I know a little of both sides of the
question,” added he, meditatively, “and it needs slight reflection which
to prefer.”
“How are you going to amuse us here, Mr. Linton?” said she, cantering up
at this moment; “for it seems to me, as old Lord Kilgoff says, that we
are like to have a very dull house. People are ordering dinner for their
own small parties as unsocially as though they were at the Crown Inn, at
Brighton.”
“Yes, by the by,” said Frobisher, “I want to ask you about that. Don't
you think it were better to dash a little bit of 'communism' through
your administration?”
“I intend to send in my resignation as premier, now that the head of the
State has arrived,” said Linton, smiling dubiously.
“I perceive,” said Frobisher, shrewdly, “you expect that the Government
will go to pieces, if you leave it.”
“The truth is, Charley,” said he, dropping his voice to a low whisper,
and leaning his hand on the horse's mane, “our friend Roland is rather
too far in the category 'savage' for long endurance; he grows capricious
and self-opinionated. The thin plating comes off, and shows the
buccaneer at every slight abrasion.”
“What of that?” said Frobisher, languidly; “his book on Coutts' is
unexceptionable. Come, Tom, you are the only man here who has a head for
these things. Do exert yourself and set something a-going.”
“Well, what shall it be?” said he, gayly. “Shall we get the country
people together, and have hack races? Shall we assemble the squires, and
have a ball? Shall we start private theatricals? What says Miss Meek?”
“I vote for all three. Pray do, Mr. Linton,--you, who are so clever, and
can do everything,--make us gay. If we only go on as we have begun, the
house will be like a model prison,--on the separate and silent system.”
“As you wish it,” said Linton, bowing with assumed gallantry; “and now
to work at once.” So saying, he turned towards the house, the others
riding at either side of him.
“What shall we do about Derwent's letter, Tom?” asked Frobisher.
“Never speak of it; the chances are that he has heard enough to satisfy
the most gluttonous curiosity. Besides, he has lost his yacht.” Here he
dropped his voice to a low muttering, as he said, “And may soon have a
heavier loss!”
“Is his pace too fast?” said Frobisher, who caught up the meaning,
although not the words.
Linton made no reply, for his thoughts were on another track; then,
suddenly catching himself, he said, “Come, and let us have a look at the
stables; I've not seen our stud yet.” And they turned off from the main
approach and entered the wood once more.
END OF VOL. I.