On the sixth day after Dr. Lendrick's arrival in Dublin--a fruitless
journey so far as any hope of reconciliation was concerned--he resolved
to return home. His friend Beattie, however, induced him to delay
his departure to the-next day, clinging to some small hope from a few
words-that had dropped from Sir William on that same morning. “Let me
see you to-night, doctor; I have a note to show you which I could not
to-day with all these people about me.” Now, the people in question
resolved themselves into one person, Lady Lendrick, who indeed bustled
into the room and out of it, slammed doors and upset chairs in a fashion
that might well have excused the exaggeration that converted her into
a noun of multitude. A very warm altercation had occurred, too, in the
doctor's presence with reference to some letter from India, which
Lady Lendrick was urging Sir William to reply to, but which he firmly
declared he would not answer.
“How I am to treat a man subject to such attacks of temper, so easily
provoked, and so incessantly irritated, is not clear to me. At all
events I will see him to-night, and hear what he has to say to me. I am
sure it has no concern with this letter from India.” With these words
Beattie induced his friend to defer his journey for another day.
It was a long and anxious day to poor Lendrick. It was not alone that
he had to suffer the bitter disappointment of all his hopes of being
received by his father and admitted to some gleam of future favor, but
he had discovered that certain debts which he had believed long settled
by the judge were still outstanding against him, Lady Lendrick having
interfered to prevent their payment, while she assured the creditors
that if they had patience Dr. Lendrick would one day or other be in a
position to acquit them. Between two and three thousand pounds thus hung
over him of indebtedness above all his calculations, and equally above
all his ability to meet.
“We thought you knew all this, Dr. Lendrick,” said Mr. Hack, Sir
William's agent; “we imagined you were a party to the arrangement,
understanding that you were reluctant to bring these debts under the
Chief Baron's eyes, being moneys lent to your wife's relations.”
“I believed that they were paid,” was all his reply, for the story was
a painful one of trust betrayed and confidence abused, and he did not
desire to revive it. He had often been told that his stepmother was the
real obstacle to all hope of reconciliation with his father, but that
she had pushed her enmity to him to the extent of his ruin was more than
he was prepared for. They had never met, but at one time letters had
frequently passed between them. Hers were marvels of good wishes and
kind intentions, dashed with certain melancholy reflections over some
shadowy unknown something which had been the cause of his estrangement
from his father, but which time and endurance might not impossibly
diminish the bitterness of, though with very little hope of leading to
a more amicable relation. She would assume, besides, occasionally a kind
of companionship in sorrow, and, as though the confession had burst from
her unawares, avow that Sir William's temper was more than human nature
was called upon to submit to, and that years only added to those violent
outbursts of passion which made the existence of all around him
a perpetual martyrdom. These always wound up with some sweet
congratulations on “Tom's good fortune in his life of peaceful
retirement,” and the “tranquil pleasures of that charming spot of which
every one tells me such wonders, and which the hope of visiting is one
of my most entrancing daydreams.” We give the passage textually,
because it occurred without a change of a word thus in no less than five
different letters.
This formal repetition of a phrase, and certain mistakes she made
about the names of his children, first opened Lendrick's eyes as to
the sincerity and affection of his correspondent, for he was the least
suspicious of men, and regarded distrust as a disgrace to him who
entertained it.
Over all these things now did he ponder during this long dreary day.
He did not like to go out lest he should meet old acquaintances and be
interrogated about his father, of whom he knew less than almost every
one. He shunned the tone of compassionate interest men met him with, and
he dreaded even the old faces that reminded him of the past. He could
not read: he tried, but could not. After a few minutes he found that
his thoughts wandered off from the book and centred on his own concerns,
till his head ached with the weary round of those difficulties which
came ever back, and back, and back again undiminished, unrelieved, and
unsolved. The embarrassments of life are not, like chess problems, to be
resolved by a skilful combination: they are to be encountered by temper,
by patience, by daring at one time, by submission at another, by a
careful consideration of a man's own powers, and by a clear-sighted
estimate of his neighbors; and all these exercised not beforehand, nor
in retirement, but on the very field itself where the conflict is raging
and the fight at its hottest.
It was late at night when Beattie returned home, and entered the study
where Lendrick sat awaiting him. “I am very late, Tom,” said he, as he
threw himself into an arm-chair, like one fatigued and exhausted; “but
it was impossible to get away. Never in all my life have I seen him
so full of anecdote, so abounding in pleasant recollections, so
ready-witted, and so brilliant. I declare to you that if I could but
recite the things he said, or give them even with a faint semblance of
the way he told them, it would be the most amusing page of bygone
Irish history. It was a grand review of all the celebrated men whom he
remembered in his youth, from the eccentric Lord Bristol, the Bishop of
Down, to O'Connell and Shiel. Nor did his own self-estimate, high as
it was, make the picture in which he figured less striking, nor less
memorable his concluding words, as he said, 'These fellows are all in
history, Beattie,--every man of them. There are statues to them in our
highways, and men visit the spots that gave them birth; and here am I,
second to none of them. Trinity College and the Four Courts will tell
you if I speak in vanity; and here am I; and the only question about me
is, when I intend to vacate the bench, when it will be my good pleasure
to resign--they are not particular which--my judgeship or my life. But,
sir, I mean not to do either; I mean to live and protest against the
inferiority of the men around me, and the ingratitude of the country
that does not know how to appreciate the one man of eminence it
possesses.' I assure you, Tom, vain and insolent as the speech was, as
I listened I thought it was neither. There was a haughty dignity
about him, to which his noble bead and his deep sonorous voice and his
commanding look lent effect that overcame all thought of attributing to
such a man any over-estimate of his powers.”
“And this note that he wished to show you,--what was it?”
“Oh, the note was a few lines written in an adjoining room by Balfour,
the Viceroy's secretary. It seems that his Excellency, finding all other
seductions fail, thought of approaching your father through you.”
“Through _me!_ It was a bright inspiration.”
“Yes; he sent Balfour to ask if the Chief Baron would feel gratified by
the post of Hospital Inspector at the Cape being offered to you. It is
worth eight hundred a year, and a house.”
“Well, what answer did he give?” asked Lendrick, eagerly.
“He directed Balfour, who only saw Lady Lendrick, to reduce the proposal
to writing. I don't fancy that the accomplished young gentleman exactly
liked the task, but he did not care to refuse, and so he sat down and
wrote one of the worst notes I ever read.”
“Worst--in what way?”
“In every way. It was scarcely intelligible, without a previous
knowledge of its contents, and so worded as to imply that when the Chief
Baron had acceded to the proposal, he had so bound himself in gratitude
to the Government that all honorable retreat was closed to him. I wish
you saw your father's face when he read it. 'Beattie,' said he, 'I have
no right to say Tom must refuse this offer; but if he should do so, I
will make the document you see there be read in the House, and my
name is not William Lendrick if it do not cost them more than they are
prepared for. Go now and consult your friend;' it was so he called you.
'If his wants are such that this place is of consequence to him, let him
accept it. I shall not ask his reasons for whatever course he may take.
_My_ reply is already written, and to his Excellency in person.' This
he said in a way to imply that its tone was one not remarkable for
conciliation or courtesy.
“I thought the opportunity a favorable one to say that you were in town
at the moment, that the accounts of his illness had brought you up, and
that you were staying at my house.
“'The sooner will you be able to communicate with him, sir,' said he,
haughtily.”
“No more than that!”
“No more, except that he added, 'Remember, sir, his acceptance or his
refusal is to be his own act, not to be intimated in any way to me, nor
to come through me.'”
“This is unnecessary harshness,” said Lendrick, with a quivering lip;
“there was no need to tell me how estranged we are from each other.”
“I fancied I could detect a struggle with himself in all his sternness;
and his hand trembled when I took it to say 'good-bye.' I was going to
ask if you might not be permitted to see him, even for a brief moment;
but I was afraid, lest in refusing he might make a reconciliation still
more remote, and so I merely said, 'May I leave you those miniatures I
showed you a few days ago? 'His answer was, 'You may leave them, sir.'
“As I came down to the hall, I met Lady Lendrick. She was in evening
dress, going out, but had evidently waited to Catch me as I passed.
“'You find the Chief much better, don't you?' asked she. I bowed and
assented.. 'And he will be better still,' added she, 'when all these
anxieties are over.' She saw that I did not or would not apprehend her
meaning, and added, 'I mean about this resignation, which, of course,
you will advise him to. The Government are really behaving so very well,
so liberal, and withal so delicate. If they had been our own people, I
doubt if they would have shown anything like the same generosity.'
“'I have heard of nothing but the offer to Dr. Lendrick,' said I.
“She seemed confused, and moved on; and then recovering herself, said,
'And a most handsome offer it is. I hope he thinks so.'
“With this we parted, and I believe now I have told you almost word for
word everything that occurred concerning you.”
“And what do _you_ say to all this, Beattie?” asked Lendrick, in a
half-sad tone.
“I say that if in your place, Tom, I would accept. It may be that the
Chief Baron will interpose and say, Don't go; or it may be that your
readiness to work for your bread should conciliate him; he has long had
the impression that you are indisposed to exertion, and too fond of your
own ease.”
“I know it,--I know it; Lady Lendrick has intimated as much to me.”
“At all events, you can make no mistake in entertaining the project; and
certainly the offer is not to be despised.”
“It is of him, and of him alone, I am thinking, Beattie. If he would let
me see him, admit me once more on my old terms of affection, I would go
anywhere, do anything that he counselled. Try, my dear friend, to bring
this about; do your best for me, and remember I will subscribe to any
terms, submit to anything, if he will only be reconciled to me.”
“It will be hard if we cannot manage this somehow,” said Beattie; “but
now let us to bed. It is past two o'clock. Good-night, Tom; sleep well,
and don't dream of the Cape or the Caffres.”