A NEW ARRIVAL
Though the dinner-party that day at Kilgobbin Castle was deficient in the
persons of Lockwood and Walpole, the accession of Joe Atlee to the company
made up in a great measure for the loss. He arrived shortly before dinner
was announced, and even in the few minutes in the drawing-room, his gay and
lively manner, his pleasant flow of small talk, dashed with the lightest
of epigrams, and that marvellous variety he possessed, made every one
delighted with him.
‘I met Walpole and Lockwood at the station, and did my utmost to make them
turn back with me. You may laugh, Lord Kilgobbin, but in doing the honours
of another man’s house, as I was at that moment, I deem myself without a
rival.’
‘I wish with all my heart you had succeeded; there is nothing I like as
much as a well-filled table,’ said Kearney.
‘Not that their air and manner,’ resumed Joe, ‘impressed me strongly with
the exuberance of their spirits; a pair of drearier dogs I have not seen
for some time, and I believe I told them so.’
‘Did they explain their gloom, or even excuse it?’ asked Dick.
‘Except on the general grounds of coming away from such fascinating
society. Lockwood played sulky, and scarcely vouchsafed a word, and as for
Walpole, he made some high-flown speeches about his regrets and his torn
sensibilities--so like what one reads in a French novel, that the very
sound of them betrays unreality.’
‘But was it, then, so very impossible to be sorry for leaving this?’ asked
Nina calmly.
‘Certainly not for any man but Walpole.’
‘And why not Walpole?’
‘Can you ask me? You who know people so well, and read them so clearly; you
to whom the secret anatomy of the “heart” is no mystery, and who understand
how to trace the fibre of intense selfishness through every tissue of his
small nature. He might be miserable at being separated from himself--there
could be no other estrangement would affect _him_.’
‘This was not always your estimate of your _friend_,’ said Nina, with a
marked emphasis of the last word.
‘Pardon me, it was my unspoken opinion from the first hour I met him. Since
then, some space of time has intervened, and though it has made no change
in him, I hope it has dealt otherwise with me. I have at least reached the
point in life where men not only have convictions but avow them.’
‘Come, come; I can remember what precious good-luck you called it to make
his acquaintance,’ cried Dick, half angrily.
‘I don’t deny it. I was very nigh drowning at the time, and it was the
first plank I caught hold of. I am very grateful to him for the rescue; but
I owe him more gratitude for the opportunity the incident gave me to see
these men in their intimacy--to know, and know thoroughly, what is the
range, what the stamp of those minds by which states are ruled and masses
are governed. Through Walpole I knew his master; and through the master I
have come to know the slipshod intelligences which, composed of official
detail, House of Commons’ gossip, and _Times_’ leaders, are accepted by us
as statesmen. And if--’ A very supercilious smile on Nina’s mouth arrested
him in the current of his speech, and he said, ‘I know, of course, I know
the question you are too polite to ask, but which quivers on your lip: “Who
is the gifted creature that sees all this incompetence and insufficiency
around him?” And I am quite ready to tell you. It is Joseph Atlee--Joseph
Atlee, who knows that when he and others like him--for we are a strong
coterie--stop the supply of ammunition, these gentlemen must cease firing.
Let the _Débats_ and the _Times_, the _Revue des Deux Mondes_ and the
_Saturday_, and a few more that I need not stop to enumerate, strike work,
and let us see how much of original thought you will obtain from your
Cabinet sages! It is in the clash and collision of the thinkers outside of
responsibility that these world-revered leaders catch the fire that lights
up their policy. The _Times_ made the Crimean blunder. The _Siècle_ created
the Mexican fiasco. The _Kreuz Zeitung_ gave the first impulse to the
Schleswig-Holstein imbroglio; and if I mistake not, the “review” in the
last _Diplomatic Chronicle_ will bear results of which he who now speaks to
you will not disown the parentage.’
‘The saints be praised! here’s dinner,’ exclaimed Kearney, ‘or this fellow
would talk us into a brain-fever. Kate is dining with Miss Betty again--God
bless her for it,’ muttered he as he gave his arm to Nina, and led the way.
‘I’ve got you a commission as a “peeler,” Dick,’ said Joe, as they moved
along. ‘You’ll have to prove that you can read and write, which is more
than they would ask of you if you were going into the Cabinet; but we live
in an intellectual age, and we test all the cabin-boys, and it is only the
steersman we take on trust.’
Though Nina was eager to resent Atlee’s impertinence on Walpole, she could
not help feeling interested and amused by his sketches of his travels.
If, in speaking of Greece, he only gave the substance of the article he had
written for the _Revue des Deux Mondes_, as the paper was yet unpublished
all the remarks were novel, and the anecdotes fresh and sparkling. The tone
of light banter and raillery in which he described public life in Greece
and Greek statesmen, might have lost some of its authority had any one
remembered to count the hours the speaker had spent in Athens; and Nina
was certainly indignant at the hazardous effrontery of the criticisms. It
was not, then, without intention that she arose to retire while Atlee was
relating an interesting story of brigandage, and he--determined to repay
the impertinence in kind--continued to recount his history as he arose to
open the door for her to pass out. Her insolent look as she swept by was
met by a smile of admiration on his part that actually made her cheek
tingle with anger.
Old Kearney dozed off gently, under the influence of names of places and
persons that did not interest him, and the two young men drew their chairs
to the fire, and grew confidential at once.
‘I think you have sent my cousin away in bad humour,’ said Dick.
‘I see it,’ said Joe, as he slowly puffed his cigar. ‘That young lady’s
head has been so cruelly turned by flattery of late, that the man who does
not swing incense before her affronts her.’
‘Yes; but you went out of your way to provoke her. It is true she knows
little of Greece or Greeks, but it offends her to hear them slighted or
ridiculed; and you took pains to do both.’
‘Contemptible little country! with a mock-army, a mock-treasury, and a
mock-chamber. The only thing real is the debt and the brigandage.’
‘But why tell her so? You actually seemed bent on irritating her.’
‘Quite true--so I was. My dear Dick, you have some lessons to learn in
life, and one of them is that, just as it is bad heraldry to put colour
on colour, it is an egregious blunder to follow flattery by flattery. The
woman who has been spoiled by over-admiration must be approached with
something else as unlike it as may be--pique--annoy--irritate--outrage,
but take care that you interest her Let her only come to feel what a very
tiresome thing mere adulation is, and she will one day value your two or
three civil speeches as gems of priceless worth. It is exactly because I
deeply desire to gain her affections, I have begun in this way.’
‘You have come too late.’
‘How do you mean too late--she is not engaged?’
‘She is engaged--she is to be married to Walpole.’
‘To Walpole!’
‘Yes; he came over a few days ago to ask her. There is some question
now--I don’t well understand it--about some family consent, or an
invitation--something, I believe, that Nina insists on, to show the world
how his family welcome her amongst them; and it is for this he has gone to
London, but to be back in eight or nine days, the wedding to take place
towards the end of the month.’
‘Is he very much in love?’
‘I should say he is.’
‘And she? Of course she could not possibly care for a fellow like Walpole?’
‘I don’t see why not. He is very much the stamp of man girls admire.’
‘Not girls like Nina; not girls who aspire to a position in life, and who
know that the little talents of the salon no more make a man of the world
than the tricks of the circus will make a foxhunter. These ambitious
women--she is one of them--will marry a hopeless idiot if he can bring
wealth and rank and a great name; but they will not take a brainless
creature who has to work his way up in the world. If she has accepted
Walpole, there is pique in it, or ennui, or that uneasy desire of change
that girls suffer from like a malady.’
‘I cannot tell you why, but I know she has accepted him.’
‘Women are not insensible to the value of second thoughts.’
‘You mean she might throw him over--might jilt him?’
‘I’ll not employ the ugly word that makes the wrong it is only meant to
indicate; but there are few of our resolves in life to which we might not
move amendment, and the changed opinion a woman forms of a man before
marriage would become a grievous injury if it happened after.’
‘But must she of necessity change?’
‘If she marry Walpole, I should say certainly. If a girl has fair abilities
and a strong temper--and Nina has a good share of each--she will endure
faults, actual vices, in a man, but she’ll not stand littleness. Walpole
has nothing else; and so I hope to prove to her to-morrow and the day
after--in fact, during those eight or ten days you tell me he will be
absent.’
‘Will she let you? Will she listen to you?’
‘Not at first--at least, not willingly, or very easily; but I will show
her, by numerous little illustrations and even fables, where these small
people not only spoil their fortunes in life, but spoil life itself; and
what an irreparable blunder it is to link companionship with one of them. I
will sometimes make her laugh, and I may have to make her cry--it will not
be easy, but I shall do it--I shall certainly make her thoughtful; and if
you can do this day by day, so that a woman will recur to the same theme
pretty much in the same spirit, you must be a sorry steersman, Master Dick,
but you will know how to guide these thoughts and trace the channel they
shall follow.’
‘And supposing, which I do not believe, that you could get her to break
with Walpole, what could _you_ offer her?’
‘Myself!’
‘Inestimable boon, doubtless; but what of fortune--position or place in
life?’
‘The first Napoleon used to say that the “power of the unknown number was
incommensurable”; and so I don’t despair of showing her that a man like
myself may be anything.’
Dick shook his head doubtingly, and the other went on: ‘In this round game
we call life it is all “brag.” The fellow with the worst card in the pack,
if he’ll only risk his head on it, keep a bold face to the world and his
own counsel, will be sure to win. Bear in mind, Dick, that for some time
back I have been keeping the company of these great swells who sit highest
in the Synagogue, and dictate to us small Publicans. I have listened
to their hesitating counsels and their uncertain resolves; I have seen
the blotted despatches and equivocal messages given, to be disavowed if
needful; I have assisted at those dress rehearsals where speech was to
follow speech, and what seemed an incautious avowal by one was to be
“improved” into a bold declaration by another “in another place”; in fact,
my good friend, I have been near enough to measure the mighty intelligences
that direct us, and if I were not a believer in Darwin, I should be very
much shocked for what humanity was coming to. It is no exaggeration that
I say, if you were to be in the Home Office, and I at the Foreign Office,
without our names being divulged, there is not a man or woman in England
would be the wiser or the worse; though if either of us were to take charge
of the engine of the Holyhead line, there would be a smash or an explosion
before we reached Rugby.’
‘All that will not enable you to make a settlement on Nina Kostalergi.’
‘No; but I’ll marry her all the same.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Will you have a bet on it, Dick? What will you wager?’
‘A thousand--ten, if I had it; but I’ll give you ten pounds on it, which is
about as much as either of us could pay.’
‘Speak for yourself, Master Dick. As Robert Macaire says, “_Je viens de
toucher mes dividendes_,” and I am in no want of money. The fact is, so
long as a man can pay for certain luxuries in life, he is well off: the
strictly necessary takes care of itself.’
‘Does it? I should like to know how.’
‘With your present limited knowledge of life, I doubt if I could explain it
to you, but I will try one of these mornings. Meanwhile, let us go into the
drawing-room and get mademoiselle to sing for us. She will sing, I take
it?’
‘Of course--if asked by you.’ And there was the very faintest tone of sneer
in the words.
And they did go, and mademoiselle did sing all that Atlee could ask her
for, and she was charming in every way that grace and beauty and the
wish to please could make her. Indeed, to such extent did she carry her
fascinations that Joe grew thoughtful at last, and muttered to himself,
‘There is vendetta in this. It is only a woman knows how to make a
vengeance out of her attractions.’
‘Why are you so serious, Mr. Atlee?’ asked she at last.
‘I was thinking--I mean, I was trying to think--yes, I remember it now,’
muttered he. ‘I have had a letter for you all this time in my pocket.’
‘A letter from Greece?’ asked she impatiently.
‘No--at least I suspect not. It was given me as I drove through the bog by
a barefooted boy, who had trotted after the car for miles, and at length
overtook us by the accident of the horse picking up a stone in his hoof.
He said it was for “some one at the castle,” and I offered to take charge
of it--here it is,’ and he produced a square-shaped envelope of common
coarse-looking paper, sealed with red wax, and a shamrock for impress.
‘A begging-letter, I should say, from the outside,’ said Dick.
‘Except that there is not one so poor as to ask aid from me,’ added Nina,
as she took the document, glanced at the writing, and placed it in her
pocket.
As they separated for the night, and Dick trotted up the stairs at Atlee’s
side, he said, ‘I don’t think, after all, my ten pounds is so safe as I
fancied.’
‘Don’t you?’ replied Joe. ‘My impressions are all the other way, Dick. It
is her courtesy that alarms me. The effort to captivate where there is no
stake to win, means mischief. She’ll make me in love with her whether I
will or not.’ The bitterness of his tone, and the impatient bang he gave
his door as he passed in, betrayed more of temper than was usual for him to
display, and as Dick sought his room, he muttered to himself, ‘I’m glad to
see that these over-cunning fellows are sure to meet their match, and get
beaten even at the game of their own invention.’