It may seem a hardship, but not improbably it is in its way an
alleviation, that we are never involved in any of the great trials
in life without having to deal with certain material embarrassments,
questions of vulgar interest which concern our pockets and affect our
finances.
Poor Lendrick's was a case in point. He was about to leave his
country,--to tear himself from a home he had embellished,--to separate
from his children that he loved so dearly, to face a new life in a new
land, friendless and alone; and with all these cares on his heart, he
had creditors to satisfy, debts to insure payment of by security, and,
not least of his troubles, his house to relet. Now, the value the world
sets on that which is not for sale is very unlike its estimate for the
same commodity when brought to market. The light claret your friend
pronounced a very pleasant little wine at your own table, he would
discover, when offered for purchase, to be poor, washy, and acrid. The
horse you had left him, and whose performance he had encomiumized,
if put up to auction, would be found spavined, or windgalled, or
broken-down. Such a stern test is money, so fearfully does its coarse
jingle jar upon all the music of flattery, and make discord of all
compliment. To such a pitch is the process carried, that even pretty
women, who as wives were objects of admiration to despairing and
disappointed adorers, have become, by widowhood, very ordinary
creatures, simply because they are once more “in the market.”
It is well for us that heaven itself was not in the “Price Current,”
or we might have begun to think lightly of it. At all events we 'd have
higgled about the cost, and tried to get there as cheaply as might be.
From the day that the Swan's Nest appeared in the Dublin papers “to be
let furnished, for the three years of an unexpired term,” Lendrick was
besieged by letters and applications. All the world apparently wanted
the place, but wanted it in some way or other quite out of his power
to accord. One insisted on having it unfurnished, and for a much longer
period than he could give. Another desired more land, and the right of
shooting over several hundred additional acres. A third would like the
house and garden, but would not burden himself with the lawn, and could
not see why Lendrick might not continue to hold the meadow-land, and
come back from the Cape or anywhere else to mow the grass and rick it in
due season.
A schoolmistress proposed he should build a dormitory for thirty young
ladies, and make the flower-garden into a playground; and a miller from
Limerick inquired whether he was willing to join in a suit to establish
a right of water-power by diverting a stream from the Shannon through
the dining-room to turn an undershot wheel.
It was marvellous with what patience and courtesy Lendrick replied to
these and such-like, politely assuring the writers how he regretted
his inability to meet their wishes, and modestly confessing that he had
neither the money nor the time to make his house other than it was.
All these, however, were as nothing to his trials when the day arrived
when the house and grounds, in the language of the advertisement, were
“on view,” and the world of the curious and idle were free to invade the
place, stroll at will through rooms and gardens, comment and criticise
not merely the objects before them, but the taste and the fortunes, the
habits and the lives of those who had made this their home, and these
things part of their own natures.
In a half-jesting humor, but really to save Lendrick from a
mortification which, to a nature timid and sensitive as his, would
have been torture, Sir Brook and Tom agreed to divide the labors of
ciceroneship between them; the former devoting his attentions to
the house and furniture, while Tom assumed the charge of grounds and
gardens. To complete the arrangement, Lendrick and Lucy were banished to
a small summer-house, and strictly enjoined never to venture abroad so
long as the stranger horde overran the territory.
“I declare, my dear, I almost think the remedy worse than the disease,”
said Lendrick to his daughter, as he paced with short feverish steps the
narrow limits of his prison-house. “This isolation here has something
secret, something that suggests shame about it. I think I could almost
rather face all the remarks our visitors might make than sit down here
to fancy and brood over them.”
“I suspect not, dearest papa; I believe the plan will spare us much that
might pain us.”
“After all, child, these people have a right to be critical, and they
are not bound to know by what associations you and I are tied to that
old garden-seat or that bookstand, and we ought to be able to avoid
showing them this.”
“Perhaps we ought, papa; but could we do so? that's-the question.”
“Surely the tradesman affects no such squeamishness about what he offers
for sale.”
“True, papa; because none of his wares have caught any clew to his
identity. They have never been his in the sense which makes possession
pleasure.”
“I wish they would not laugh without there; their coarse laughter sounds
to me so like vulgar ridicule. I hardly thought all this would have made
me so irritable; even the children's voices jar on my nerves.”
He turned away his head, but her eyes followed him, and two heavy tears
stole slowly along her cheek, and her lip quivered as she looked.
“There, they are going away,” said he, listening; “I am better now.”
“That 's right, dearest papa; I knew it was a mere passing pang,” said
she, drawing her arm within his, and walking along at his side. “How
kind Sir Brook is!”
“How kind every one, we might say. Poor Mills is like a brother, and
Tobin too,--I scarcely expected so much heart from him. He gave me
his old lancet-case as a keepsake yesterday, and I declare his voice
trembled as he said good-bye.”
“As for the poor people, I hear, papa, that one would think they had
lost their nearest and dearest. Molly Dew says they were crying in her
house this morning over their breakfast as if it was a funeral.”
“Is it not strange, Lucy, that what touches the heart so painfully
should help to heal the pang it gives? There is that in all this
affection for us that gladdens while it grieves. All,--all are so kind
to us! That young fellow--Trafford I think his name is--he was waiting
at the post for his letters this morning when I came up, and it seems
that Foss-brooke had told him of my appointment,--indiscreet of him, for
I would not wish it talked of; but Trafford turned to him and said, 'Ask
Dr. Lendrick, is he decided about going;' and when he heard that I was,
he scarcely said goodbye, but jumped into a cab, and drove off full
speed.
“'What does that mean?' asked I.
“'He was so fond of Tom,' said Fossbrooke, 'they were never separate
this last month or five weeks;' so you see, darling, each of us has his
sphere of love and affection.”
Lucy was crimson over face and neck, but never spoke a word. Had she
spoken it would have been, perhaps, to corroborate Sir Brook, and to say
how fond the young men were of each other. I do not affirm this, I only
hint that it is likely. Where there are blanks in this narrative, the
reader has as much right to fill them as myself.
“Sir Brook,” continued Lendrick, “thinks well of the young man; but for
my own part I hardly like to see Tom in close companionship with one so
much his superior in fortune. He is easily led, and has not yet learned
that stern lesson in life, how to confess that there are many things he
has no pretension to aspire to.”
“Tom loves you too sincerely, papa, ever to do that which would
seriously grieve you.”
“He would not deliberately,--he would not in cold blood, Lucy; but young
men, when together, have not many moods of deliberation or cold blood.
But let us not speculate on trouble that may never come. It is enough
for the present that he and Trafford are separated, if Trafford was even
likely to lead him into ways of extravagance.”
“What 's that! Is n't it, Tom? He's laughing heartily at something. Yes;
here he comes.”
“You may come out; the last of them has just driven off,” cried Tom,
knocking at the door, while he continued to laugh on immoderately.
“What is it, Tom? What are you laughing at?”
“You should have seen it; it's nothing to tell, but it was wonderful to
witness. I'll never forget it as long as I live.”
“But what was it?” asked she, impatiently.
“I thought we had fully done with all our visitors,--and a rum set they
were, most of them, not thinking of taking the place, but come out of
mere curiosity,--when who should drive up with two postilions and
four spicy grays but Lady Drumcarran and a large party, three horsemen
following? I just caught the word 'Excellency,' and found out from
one of the servants that a tall old man with white hair and very heavy
eyebrows was the Lord-Lieutenant. He stooped a good deal, and walked
tenderly; and as the Countess was most eager about the grounds and the
gardens, they parted company very soon, he going into the house to sit
down, while she prosecuted her inquiries without doors.
“I took him into the library; we had a long chat about fishing, and
fish-curing, and the London markets, and flax, and national education,
and land-tenure, and such-like. Of course I affected not to know who he
was, and I took the opportunity to say scores of impertinences about
the stupidity of the Castle, and the sort of men they send over here
to govern us; and he asked me if I was destined for any career or
profession, and I told him frankly that whenever I took up anything I
always was sure to discover it was the one very thing that didn't suit
me; and as I made this unlucky discovery in law, medicine, and the
Church, I had given up my college career, and was now in a sort of
interregnal period, wondering what it was to be next. I did n't like to
own that the _res angusto_ had anything to say to it. It was no business
of his to know about that.
“'You surely have friends able and willing to suggest something that
would fit you,' said he. 'Is not the Chief Baron your grandfather?'
“'Yes, and he might make me crier of his court; but I think he has
promised the reversion to his butler. The fact is, I 'd not do over
well with any fixed responsibilities attached to me. I 'd rather be a
guerilla than serve in the regulars, and so I 'll just wait and see if
something won't turn up in that undisciplined force I 'd like to serve
with.'
“'I 'll give you my name,' said he, 'before we part, and possibly I may
know some one who might be of use to you.'
“I thanked him coolly, and we talked of something else, when there came
a short plump little fellow, all beard and gold chains, to say that Lady
Drumcarran was waiting for him. 'Tell her I'm coming,' said he; 'and,
Balfour,' he cried out, 'before you go away, give this gentleman my
address, and if he should call, take care that I see him.'
“Balfour eyed me, and I eyed him, with, I take it, pretty much the same
result, which said plainly enough, 'You 're not the man for me.'
“'What in heaven's name is this?' cried the Viceroy, as he got outside
and saw Lady Drumcarran at the head of a procession carrying plants,
slips, and flower-pots down to the carriage.
“'Her Ladyship has made a raid amongst the greeneries,' said Balfour,
'and tipped the head-gardener, that tall fellow there with the yellow
rose-tree; as the place is going to be sold, she thought she might well
do a little genteel pillage.' Curious to see who our gardener could be,
all the more that he was said to be 'tall,' I went forward, and what
do you think I saw? Sir Brook, with a flower-pot under one arm, and
a quantity of cuttings under the other, walking a little after the
Countess, who was evidently giving him ample directions as to her
intentions. I could scarcely refrain from an outburst of laughing, but I
got away into the shrubbery and watched the whole proceedings. I was
too far off to hear, but this much I saw. Sir Brook had deposited his
rose-tree and his slips on the rumble, and stood beside the carriage
with his hat off. When his Excellency came up, a sudden movement took
place in the group, and the Viceroy, seeming to push his way through
the others, cried out something I could not catch, and then grasped Sir
Brook's hand with both his own. All was tumult in a moment. My Lady, in
evident confusion and shame,--that much I could see,--was courtesying
deeply to Sir Brook, who seemed not to understand her apologies--,
at least, he appeared stately and courteous, as usual, and not in the
slightest degree put out or chagrined by the incident. Though Lady
Drumcarran was profuse of her excuses, and most eager to make amends
for her mistake, the Viceroy took Sir Brook's arm and led him off to a
little distance, where they talked together for a few moments.
“'It's a promise, then, Fossbrooke,--you promise me!' cried he aloud, as
he approached the carriage.
“'Rely upon me,--and within a week, or ten days at farthest,' said Sir
Brook, as they drove away.
“I have not seen him since, and I scarcely know if I shall be able to
meet him without laughing.”
“Here he comes,” cried Lucy; “and take care, Tom, that you do nothing
that might offend him.”
The caution was so far unnecessary that Sir Brook's manner, as he drew
near, had a certain stately dignity that invited no raillery.
“You have been detained a long time a prisoner, Dr. Len-drick,” said
Fossbrooke, calmly; “but your visitors were so charmed with all they saw
that they lingered on, unwilling to take their leave.”
“Tom tells me we had some of our county notabilities,--Lord and Lady
Drumcarran, the Lacys, and others,” said Lendrick.
“Yes; and the Lord-Lieutenant, too, whom I used to know at Christ
Church. He would have been well pleased to have met you. He told me your
father was the ablest and most brilliant talker he ever knew.”
“Ah! we are very unlike,” said Lendrick, blushing modestly. “Did he
give any hint as to whether his party are pleased or the reverse with my
father's late conduct?”
“He only said, 'I wish you knew him, Fossbrooke; I sincerely wish you
knew him, if only to assure him that he will meet far more generous
treatment from us than from the Opposition.' He added that we were men
to suit each other; and this, of course, was a flattery for which I am
very grateful.”
“And the tall man with the stoop was the Lord-Lieutenant?” asked Tom. “I
passed half an hour or more with him in the library, and he invited me
to call upon him, and told a young fellow, named Balfour, to give me his
address, which he forgot to do.”
“We can go together, if you have no objection; for I, too, have promised
to pay my respects,” said Sir Brook.
Tom was delighted at the suggestion, but whispered in his sister's ear,
as they passed out into the garden, “I thought I 'd have burst my sides
laughing when I met him; but it's the very last thing in my thoughts
now. I declare I 'd as soon pull a tiger's whiskers as venture on the
smallest liberty with him.”
“I think you are right, Tom,” said she, squeezing his arm
affectionately, to show that she not alone agreed with him, but was
pleased that he had given her the opportunity of doing so.
“I wonder is he telling the governor what happened this morning? It can
scarcely be that, though, they look so grave.”
“Papa seems agitated too,” said Lucy.
“I just caught Trafford's name as they passed. I hope he 's not saying
anything against him. It is not only that Lionel Trafford is as good a
fellow as ever lived, but that he fully believes Fossbrooke likes him. I
don't think he could be so false; do you, Lucy?”
“I 'm certain he is not. There, papa is beckoning to you; he wants you;”
and Lucy turned hurriedly away, anxious to conceal her emotion, for her
cheeks were burning, and her lips trembled with agitation.