PLEASANT CONGRATULATIONS
The news of Nina’s engagement to Walpole soon spread through the castle at
Kilgobbin, and gave great satisfaction; even the humbler members of the
household were delighted to think there would be a wedding and all its
appropriate festivity.
When the tidings at length arrived at Miss O’Shea’s room, so reviving were
the effects upon her spirits, that the old lady insisted she should be
dressed and carried down to the drawing-room that the bridegroom might be
presented to her in all form.
Though Nina herself chafed at such a proceeding, and called it a most
‘insufferable pretension,’ she was perhaps not sorry secretly at the
opportunity afforded herself to let the tiresome old woman guess how she
regarded her, and what might be their future relations towards each other.
‘Not indeed,’ added she, ‘that we are likely ever to meet again, or that I
should recognise her beyond a bow if we should.’
As for Kearney, the announcement that Miss Betty was about to appear in
public filled him with unmixed terror, and he muttered drearily as he went,
‘There’ll be wigs on the green for this.’ Nor was Walpole himself pleased
at the arrangement. Like most men in his position, he could not be brought
to see the delicacy or the propriety of being paraded as an object of
public inspection, nor did he perceive the fitness of that display of
trinkets which he had brought with him as presents, and the sight of which
had become a sort of public necessity.
Not the least strange part of the whole procedure was that no one could
tell where or how or with whom it originated. It was like one of those
movements which are occasionally seen in political life, where, without the
direct intervention of any precise agent, a sort of diffused atmosphere of
public opinion suffices to produce results and effect changes that all are
ready to disavow but to accept.
The mere fact of the pleasure the prospect afforded to Miss Betty prevented
Kate from offering opposition to what she felt to be both bad in taste and
ridiculous.
‘That old lady imagines, I believe, that I am to come down like a
_prétendu_ in a French vaudeville--dressed in a tail-coat, with a white
tie and white gloves, and perhaps receive her benediction. She mistakes
herself, she mistakes us. If there was a casket of uncouth old diamonds,
or some marvellous old point lace to grace the occasion, we might play our
parts with a certain decorous hypocrisy; but to be stared at through a
double eye-glass by a snuffy old woman in black mittens, is more than one
is called on to endure--eh, Lockwood?’
‘I don’t know. I think I’d go through it all gladly to have the occasion.’
‘Have a little patience, old fellow, it will all come right. My worthy
relatives--for I suppose I can call them so now--are too shrewd people to
refuse the offer of such a fellow as you. They have that native pride that
demands a certain amount of etiquette and deference. They must not seem
to rise too eagerly to the fly; but only give them time--give them time,
Lockwood.’
‘Ay, but the waiting in this uncertainty is terrible to me.’
‘Let it be certainty, then, and for very little I’ll ensure you! Bear
this in mind, my dear fellow, and you’ll see how little need there is for
apprehension. You--and the men like you--snug fellows with comfortable
estates and no mortgages, unhampered by ties and uninfluenced by
connections, are a species of plant that is rare everywhere, but actually
never grew at all in Ireland, where every one spent double his income, and
seldom dared to move a step without a committee of relations. Old Kearney
has gone through that fat volume of the gentry and squirearchy of England
last night, and from Sir Simon de Lockwood, who was killed at Creçy, down
to a certain major in the Carbineers, he knows you all.’
‘I’ll bet you a thousand they say No.’
‘I’ve not got a thousand to pay if I should lose, but I’ll lay a pony--two,
if you like--that you are an accepted man this day--ay, before dinner.’
‘If I only thought so!’
‘Confound it--you don’t pretend you are in love!’
‘I don’t know whether I am or not, but I do know how I should like to bring
that nice girl back to Hampshire, and install her at the Dingle. I’ve a
tidy stable, some nice shooting, a good trout-stream, and then I should
have the prettiest wife in the county.’
‘Happy dog! Yours is the real philosophy of life. The fellows who are
realistic enough to reckon up the material elements of their happiness--who
have little to speculate on and less to unbelieve--they are right.’
‘If you mean that I’ll never break my heart because I don’t get in for the
county, that’s true--I don’t deny it. But come, tell me, is it all settled
about your business? Has the uncle been asked?--has he spoken?’
‘He has been asked and given his consent. My distinguished father-in-law,
the prince, has been telegraphed to this morning, and his reply may be here
to-night or to-morrow. At all events, we are determined that even should he
prove adverse, we shall not be deterred from our wishes by the caprice of a
parent who has abandoned us.’
‘It’s what people would call a love-match.’
‘I sincerely trust it is. If her affections were not inextricably engaged,
it is not possible that such a girl could pledge her future to a man as
humble as myself?’
‘That is, she is very much in love with _you_?’
‘I hope the astonishment of your question does not arise from its seeming
difficulty of belief?’
‘No, not so much that, but I thought there might have been a little
heroics, or whatever it is, on your side.’
‘Most dull dragoon, do you not know that, so long as a man spoons, he can
talk of his affection for a woman; but that, once she is about to be his
wife, or is actually his wife, he limits his avowals to _her_ love for
_him_?’
‘I never heard that before. I say, what a swell you are this morning. The
cock-pheasants will mistake you for one of them.’
‘Nothing can be simpler, nothing quieter, I trust, than a suit of dark
purple knickerbockers; and you may see that my thread stockings and my
coarse shoes presuppose a stroll in the plantations, where, indeed, I mean
to smoke my morning cigar.’
‘She’ll make you give up tobacco, I suppose?’
‘Nothing of the kind--a thorough woman of the world enforces no such
penalties as these. True free-trade is the great matrimonial maxim, and
for people of small means it is inestimable. The formula may be stated
thus--‘Dine at the best houses, and give tea at your own.’
What other precepts of equal wisdom Walpole was prepared to enunciate were
lost to the world by a message informing him that Miss Betty was in the
drawing-room, and the family assembled, to see him.
Cecil Walpole possessed a very fair stock of that useful quality called
assurance; but he had no more than he needed to enter that large room,
where the assembled family sat in a half-circle, and stand to be surveyed
by Miss O’Shea’s eye-glass, unabashed. Nor was the ordeal the less trying
as he overheard the old lady ask her neighbour, ‘if he wasn’t the image of
the Knave of Diamonds.’
‘I thought you were the other man!’ said she curtly, as he made his bow.
‘I deplore the disappointment, madam--even though I do not comprehend it.’
‘It was the picture, the photograph, of the other man I saw--a fine, tall,
dark man, with long moustaches.’
‘The fine, tall, dark man, with the long moustaches, is in the house, and
will be charmed to be presented to you.’
‘Ay, ay! presented is all very fine; but that won’t make him the
bridegroom,’ said she, with a laugh.
‘I sincerely trust it will not, madam.’
‘And it is you, then, are Major Walpole?’
‘Mr. Walpole, madam--my friend Lockwood is the major.’
‘To be sure. I have it right now. You are the young man that got into that
unhappy scrape, and got the Lord-Lieutenant turned away--’
‘I wonder how you endure this,’ burst out Nina, as she arose and walked
angrily towards a window.
‘I don’t think I caught what the young lady said; but if it was, that what
cannot be cured must be endured, it is true enough; and I suppose that
they’ll get over your blunder as they have done many another.’
‘I live in that hope, madam.’
‘Not but it’s a bad beginning in public life; and a stupid mistake hangs
long on a man’s memory. You’re young, however, and people are generous
enough to believe it might be a youthful indiscretion.’
‘You give me great comfort, madam.’
‘And now you are going to risk another venture?’
‘I sincerely trust on safer grounds.’
‘That’s what they all think. I never knew a man that didn’t believe he drew
the prize in matrimony. Ask him, however, six months after he’s tied. Say,
“What do you think of your ticket now?” Eh, Mat Kearney? It doesn’t take
twenty or thirty years quarrelling and disputing to show one that a lottery
with so many blanks is just a swindle.’
A loud bang of the door, as Nina flounced out in indignation, almost shook
the room.
‘There’s a temper you’ll know more of yet, young gentleman; and, take my
word for it, it’s only in stage-plays that a shrew is ever tamed.’
‘I declare,’ cried Dick, losing all patience, ‘I think Miss O’Shea is too
unsparing of us all. We have our faults, I’m sure; but public correction
will not make us more comfortable.’
‘It wasn’t _your_ comfort I was thinking of, young man; and if I thought
of your poor father’s, I’d have advised him to put you out an apprentice.
There’s many a light business--like stationery, or figs, or children’s
toys--and they want just as little capital as capacity.’
‘Miss Betty,’ said Kearney stiffly, ‘this is not the time nor the place for
these discussions. Mr. Walpole was polite enough to present himself here
to-day to have the honour of making your acquaintance, and to announce his
future marriage.’
‘A great event for us all--and we’re proud of it! It’s what the newspapers
will call a great day for the Bog of Allen. Eh, Mat? The princess--God
forgive me, but I’m always calling her Costigan--but the princess will
be set down niece to Lord Kilgobbin; and if you’--and she addressed
Walpole--‘haven’t a mock-title and a mock-estate, you’ll be the only one
without them!’
‘I don’t think any one will deny us our tempers,’ cried Kearney.
‘Here’s Lockwood,’ cried Walpole, delighted to see his friend enter, though
he as quickly endeavoured to retreat.
‘Come in, major,’ said Kearney. ‘We’re all friends here. Miss O’Shea, this
is Major Lockwood, of the Carbineers--Miss O’Shea.’
Lockwood bowed stiffly, but did not speak.
‘Be attentive to the old woman,’ whispered Walpole. ‘A word from her will
make your affair all right.’
‘I have been very desirous to have had the honour of this introduction,
madam,’ said Lockwood, as he seated himself at her side.
‘Was not that a clever diversion I accomplished with “the Heavy “?’ said
Walpole, as he drew away Kearney and his son into a window.
‘I never heard her much worse than to-day,’ said Dick.
‘I don’t know,’ hesitated Kilgobbin. ‘I suspect she is breaking. There is
none of the sustained virulence I used to remember of old. She lapses into
half-mildness at moments.’
‘I own I did not catch them, nor, I’m afraid, did Nina,’ said Dick. ‘Look
there! I’ll be shot if she’s not giving your friend the major a lesson!
When she performs in that way with her hands, you may swear she is
didactic.’
‘I think I’ll go to his relief,’ said Walpole; ‘but I own it’s a case for
the V.C.’
As Walpole drew nigh, he heard her saying: ‘Marry one of your own race, and
you will jog on well enough. Marry a Frenchwoman or a Spaniard, and she’ll
lead her own life, and be very well satisfied; but a poor Irish girl, with
a fresh heart and a joyous temper--what is to become of her, with your dull
habits and your dreary intercourse, your county society and your Chinese
manners!’
‘Miss O’Shea is telling me that I must not look for a wife among her
countrywomen,’ said Lockwood, with a touching attempt to smile.
‘What I overheard was not encouraging,’ said Walpole; ‘but I think Miss
O’Shea takes a low estimate of our social temperament.’
‘Nothing of the kind! All I say is, you’ll do mighty well for each other,
or, for aught I know, you might intermarry with the Dutch or the Germans;
but it’s a downright shame to unite your slow sluggish spirits with the
sparkling brilliancy and impetuous joy of an Irish girl. That’s a union I’d
never consent to.’
‘I hope this is no settled resolution,’ said Walpole, speaking in a low
whisper; ‘for I want to bespeak your especial influence in my friend’s
behalf. Major Lockwood is a most impassioned admirer of Miss Kearney, and
has already declared as much to her father.’
‘Come over here, Mat Kearney! come over here this moment!’ cried she, half
wild with excitement. ‘What new piece of roguery, what fresh intrigue is
this? Will you dare to tell me you had a proposal for Kate, for my own
god-daughter, without even so much as telling me?’
‘My dear Miss Betty, be calm, be cool for one minute, and I’ll tell you
everything.’
‘Ay, when I’ve found it out, Mat!’
‘I profess I don’t think my friend’s pretensions are discussed with much
delicacy, time and place considered,’ said Walpole.
‘We have something to think of as well as delicacy, young man: there’s a
woman’s happiness to be remembered.’
‘Here it is, now, the whole business,’ said Kearney. ‘The major there asked
me yesterday to get my daughter’s consent to his addresses.’
‘And you never told me,’ cried Miss Betty.
‘No, indeed, nor herself neither; for after I turned it over in my mind, I
began to see it wouldn’t do--’
‘How do you mean not do?’ asked Lockwood.
‘Just let me finish. What I mean is this--if a man wants to marry an Irish
girl, he mustn’t begin by asking leave to make love to her--’
‘Mat’s right!’ cried the old lady stoutly.
‘And above all, he oughtn’t to think that the short cut to her heart is
through his broad acres.’
‘Mat’s right--quite right!’
‘And besides this, that the more a man dwells on his belongings, and the
settlements, and such like, the more he seems to say, “I may not catch your
fancy in everything, I may not ride as boldly or dance as well as somebody
else, but never mind--you’re making a very prudent match, and there is a
deal of pure affection in the Three per Cents.”’
‘And I’ll give you another reason,’ said Miss Betty resolutely. ‘Kate
Kearney cannot have two husbands, and I’ve made her promise to marry my
nephew this morning.’
‘What, without any leave of mine?’ exclaimed Kearney.
‘Just so, Mat. She’ll marry him if you give your consent; but whether you
will or not, she’ll never marry another.’
‘Is there, then, a real engagement?’ whispered Walpole to Kearney. ‘Has my
friend here got his answer?’
‘He’ll not wait for another,’ said Lockwood haughtily, as he arose. ‘I’m
for town, Cecil,’ whispered he.
‘So shall I be this evening,’ replied Walpole, in the same tone. ‘I must
hurry over to London and see Lord Danesbury. I’ve my troubles too.’ And so
saying, he drew his arm within the major’s, and led him away; while Miss
Betty, with Kearney on one side of her and Dick on the other, proceeded to
recount the arrangement she had made to make over the Barn and the estate
to Gorman, it being her own intention to retire altogether from the world
and finish her days in the ‘Retreat.’
‘And a very good thing to do, too,’ said Kearney, who was too much
impressed with the advantages of the project to remember his politeness.
‘I have had enough of it, Mat,’ added she, in a lugubrious tone; ‘and it’s
all backbiting, and lying, and mischief-making, and what’s worse, by the
people who might live quietly and let others do the same!’
‘What you say is true as the Bible.’
‘It may be hard to do it, Mat Kearney, but I’ll pray for them in my hours
of solitude, and in that blessed Retreat I’ll ask for a blessing on
yourself, and that your heart, hard and cruel and worldly as it is now, may
be changed; and that in your last days--maybe on the bed of sickness--when
you are writhing and twisting with pain, with a bad heart and a worse
conscience--when you’ll have nobody but hirelings near you--hirelings that
will be robbing you before your eyes, and not waiting till the breath
leaves you--when even the drop of drink to cool your lips--’
‘Don’t--don’t go on that way, Miss Betty. I’ve a cold shivering down the
spine of my back this minute, and a sickness creeping all over me.’
‘I’m glad of it. I’m glad that my words have power over your wicked old
nature--if it’s not too late.’
‘If it’s miserable and wretched you wanted to make me, don’t fret about
your want of success; though whether it all comes too late, I cannot tell
you.’
‘We’ll leave that to St. Joseph.’
‘Do so! do so!’ cried he eagerly, for he had a shrewd suspicion he would
have better chances of mercy at any hands than her own.
‘As for Gorman, if I find that he has any notions about claiming an acre
of the property, I’ll put it all into Chancery, and the suit will outlive
_him_; but if he owns he is entirely dependent on my bounty, I’ll settle
the Barn and the land on him, and the deed shall be signed the day he
marries your daughter. People tell you that you can’t take your money with
you into the next world, Mat Kearney, and a greater lie was never uttered.
Thanks to the laws of England, and the Court of Equity in particular, it’s
the very thing you can do! Ay, and you can provide, besides, that everybody
but the people that had a right to it shall have a share. So I say to
Gorman O’Shea, beware what you are at, and don’t go on repeating that
stupid falsehood about not carrying your debentures into the next world.’
‘You are a wise woman, and you know life well,’ said he solemnly.
‘And if I am, it’s nothing to sigh over, Mr. Kearney. One is grateful for
mercies, but does not groan over them like rheumatism or the lumbago.’
‘Maybe I ‘in a little out of spirits to-day.’
‘I shouldn’t wonder if you were. They tell me you sat over your wine, with
that tall man, last night, till nigh one o’clock, and it’s not at your time
of life that you can do these sort of excesses with impunity; you had a
good constitution once, and there’s not much left of it.’
‘My patience, I’m grateful to see, has not quite deserted me.’
‘I hope there’s other of your virtues you can be more sure of,’ said
she, rising, ‘for if I was asked your worst failing, I’d say it was your
irritability.’ And with a stern frown, as though to confirm the judicial
severity of her words, she nodded her head to him and walked away.
It was only then that Kearney discovered he was left alone, and that Dick
had stolen away, though when or how he could not say.
‘I’m glad the boy was not listening to her, for I’m downright ashamed that
I bore it,’ was his final reflection as he strolled out to take a walk in
the plantation.