CHAPTER IX. "DALY'S."
It was upon one of the very coldest evenings of the memorably severeJanuary of 1800 that the doors of Daly's Club House were besieged bycarriages of every shape and description: some brilliant in all thelustre of a perfect equipage; others more plainly denoting the countrygentleman or the professional man; and others, again, the chanceoccupants of the various coach-stands, displayed every variety ofthat now extinct family whose members went under the denominations of"whiskeys," "jingles," and "noddies."
A heavy fall of sleet, accompanied with a cutting north wind, did notprevent the assemblage of a considerable crowd, who, by the strangesympathy of gregarious curiosity, were drawn up in front of thebuilding, satisfied to think that something unusual, of what nature theyknew not, was going forward within, and content to gaze on the brilliantglare of the lustres as seen through the drawn curtains, and mark theshadowy outlines of figures as they passed and repassed continually.
Leaving the mob, for it was in reality such, to speculate on the causeof this extraordinary gathering, we shall at once proceed up the amplestair and enter the great saloon of the Club, which, opening by eightwindows upon College Green, formed the conversation-room of the members.
Here were now assembled between three and four hundred persons, gatheredin groups and knots, and talking with all the eagerness some engrossingtopic could suggest. In dress, air, and manner they seemed to representsections of every social circle of the capital: some, in full Castlecostume, had just escaped from the table of the Viceroy; others, inmilitary uniform or the dress of the Club, contrasted with coats ofcountry squires or the even more ungainly quaintness of the lawyers'costume. They were of every age, from the young man emerging into life,to the old frequenter of the Club, who had occupied his own place andchair for half a century, and in manner and style as various, manypreserving the courteous observances of the old school in all itspolished urbanity, and the younger part of the company exhibiting thetraits of a more independent, but certainly less graceful, politeness.Happily for the social enjoyments of the time, political leanings hadnot contributed their bitterness to private life, and men of opinionsthe most opposite, and party connections most antagonistic, were heremet, willing to lay aside for a season the arms of encounter, or to usethem with only the sportive pleasantry of a polished wit. If this manlyspirit of mutual forbearance did not characterize the very last debatesof the Irish Parliament, it may in a great measure be attributed to thenature of that influence by which the measure of the Union was carried;for bribery not only corrupted the venal, but it soured and irritatedthe men who rejected its seductions; and in this wise a difference wascreated between the two parties, wider and more irreconcilable than allwhich political animosity or mere party dislike could effect.
On the present occasion, however, the animating spirit of the assemblageseemed to partake of nothing less than a feature of political acrimony;and amid the chance phrases which met the ear, and the hearty bursts oflaughter that every moment broke forth, it was easy to collect that noquestion of a party nature occupied their attention.
At the end of the room a group of some twenty persons stood or sataround a chair in which a thin elderly gentleman was seated, his fineand delicately marked features far more unequivocally proclaiming rankthan even the glittering star he wore on his breast. Without being inreality very old, Lord Drogheda seemed so, for, partly from delicacy ofhealth, and partly, as some affirmed, from an affectation of age (a morefrequent thing than is expected), he had contracted a stoop, and walkedwith every sign of debility.
"Well, gentlemen, how does time go?" said he, with an easy smile. "Arewe not near the hour?"
"Yes; it wants but eleven minutes of ten now, my Lord," said one of thegroup. "Do you mean to hold him sharp to time?"
"Egad, I should think so," interrupted a red-whiskered squire, insplashed top-boots. "I've ridden in from Kildare to-night to see thematch, and I protest against any put-off."
Lord Drogheda turned his eyes towards the speaker with a look in whichmildness was so marked, it could not be called reproof, but it evidentlyconfused him, as he added, "Of course, if the gentlemen who have heavywagers on it are content I must be also."
"I, for one, say 'sharp time,'" cried out a dapperly dressed youngfellow, with an open pocket-book in his hand; "play or pay is the onlyrule in these cases."
"I 've backed my Lord at eight to ten, in hundreds," said another, "andcertainly I 'll claim my bet if the Knight is one minute late."
"Then you have just three to decide that question," said one at hisside. "My watch is with the Post-office."
"Quite, time enough left to order my carriage," said Lord Drogheda,rising with an energy very different from his ordinary indolent habit."If the Knight of Gwynne should be accidentally delayed, gentlemen, I,for my part, prefer being also absent. It will then be a matter of somedifficulty for the parties betting to say who is the delinquent." Hetook his hat as he spoke, and was moving through the crowd, when asudden cheer from without was heard, and then, almost the instant after,a confused sound of acclamation as the Knight of Gwynne entered, leaningon the arm of Con Heffernan. Making his way with difficulty through thecrowd of welcoming friends and acquaintances, the Knight approached theend of the room where Lord Drogheda now awaited him, standing.
"Not late, my Lord, though very near it," said he, extending hishand. "If I should apologize, however, I have an excuse you will notreject,--Con Heffernan's Burgundy is hard to part with."
"Very true, Knight," said his Lordship, smiling. "With a friend one seesso seldom, a little dalliance is most pardonable."
This sarcasm was met by a ready laugh, for Heffernan was better knownas a guest at other tables than a host at his own; nor did he, at whoseexpense the jest was made, refrain from joining in the mirth, while headded,--
"The Burgundy, like one of your Lordship's _bons mots_, is perhapsappreciated the more highly because of its rarity."
"Very true, Heffernan," replied Lord Drogheda; "we should keep our witand wine only for our best friends."
"Faith, then," whispered the red-whiskered squire who spoke before, "ifthe liquor does not gain more by keeping than the wit, I'd recommend Conto drink it off a little faster."
"Or, better still," interposed the Knight, "only give it to thosewho understand its flavor. But we are, if I mistake not, losing veryvaluable time. What say you to the small room off the library, or willyour Lordship remain here?"
"Here, if equally agreeable to you. We are both of us too old in theharness to care much for being surrounded by spectators."
"Is it true, Con," said a friend in Heffernan's ear, "that Darcy haslaid fifty thousand on this party?"
"I believe you are rather under than over the mark," whisperedHeffernan. "The wager has been off and on these last eight or ten years.It was made at Hutchinson's one evening when we all had drunk a gooddeal of wine. At first, whist was talked of; but Drogheda objected toDarcy's naming Vicars as his partner."
"More fool he! Vicars is a first-rate player, but confoundedly unlucky."
"Be that as it may, they fixed on piquet as the game, and, if accountsbe true, all the better for Darcy. They say he has beaten the bestplayers in France."
"And what is really the stake? One hears so many absurd versions of it."
"The Ballydermot property."
"The whole of it?"
"Every acre, with the demesne, house, plate, pictures, carriages,wine,--begad! I 'm not sure if the livery servants are notincluded,--against fifty thousand pounds. You know Drogheda has lent hima very large sum on a mortgage of that property already, and this willmake the thing about double or quits."
"Well, Heffernan," cried the Knight, "are you making your book there?When you've quite finished, let me have a pinch of that excellent snuffof yours."
"Why not try mine?" said Lord Drogheda, pushing a magnificently jewelledbox, containing a miniature, across the table.
"'T would be a bad augury, my Lord," said Dar
cy, laughing. "If Iremember aright, you won this handsome box from the Duke de Richelieu."
"Ah! you know that story, then?"
"I was present at the time, and remember the circumstance perfectly. TheKing was leaning over the Duke's chair, watching the game--"
"Quite true. The Duke affected not to know that his Majesty was there,and when he placed the box on the table, cried, 'A thousand louisagainst the portrait of the King!' There was no declining such a wagerat such a moment, although, intrinsically, the box was not worth halfthe sum. I accepted, and won it."
"And the Duke then offered to give you twice the money for it backagain?"
"He did so, and I refused. I shall not readily forget the sweet, sadsmile of the King as he tapped the wily courtier on the shoulder, andsaid, 'Ah! Monsieur le Duc, do you only value your King when you've losthim?' They were prophetic words! Well, well! we 've got upon a sorrowfultheme; let's change it."
"Here are the cards, at last," said the Knight, taking a sealed packetfrom the waiter's hand, and breaking it open on the table. "Now,Heffernan, order me a glass of claret negus, and take care that no onecomes to worry us with news of the House."
"It's a sugar bill, or a new clause in the Corporation Act, or somethingof that kind, they 're working at," said Lord Drogheda, negligently.
"No, my Lord," interposed Heffernan, slyly, "it's a bill to permit yourLordship's nephew to hold the living of Ardragh with his deanery."
"All right and proper," said his Lordship, endeavoring to hide a risingflush on his cheek by an opportune laugh. "Tom is a capital fellow, anda good parson too."
"And ought never to omit the prayer for the Parliament!" mutteredHeffernan, loud enough to be heard by the bystanders, who relished theallusion heartily.
"The deal is with you, Knight," said Lord Drogheda, pushing the cardsacross the table.
The moment afterwards, a pin could not have fallen unheard in thatcrowded assembly. Even they who were not themselves bettors felt thedeepest interest in the game where the stake was so great, and all whocould set value on skill and address were curious to watch the progressof the contest. Not a word was spoken on either side as the cards fellupon the table, and although many of the bystanders displayed looksof more eager anxiety, the players showed by their intentness howstrenuously each struggled for the victory.
After the lapse of about half an hour, a low, murmuring noise spreadthrough the room, and the news was circulated that the first game wasover, and the Knight was the winner. The players, however, were silentas before, and the deal went over without a word.
"One moment, my Lord," said Darcy, as he gently interposed his hand toprevent Lord Drogheda taking up his cards,--"a single moment. You willcall me faint-hearted for it, but I do not care. I beseech you, let theparty cease here. It is a great favor; but as I could not ask it if Ihad lost the game, give me, I pray, so much of advantage for my goodluck."
"You forget, Knight, that I, as a loser, could not accede to yourproposal; what would be said of any man who, with such a stake at issue,accepted an offer like this?"
"My dear Lord, don't you think that you and I might afford to have ouractions canvassed, and yet be very little afraid of criticism?" saidDarcy, proudly.
"No, no, my dear Darcy, I really could not do this; besides, you mustconcede something to mortified vanity. Now, I am anxious to have myrevenge."
"Be it so, my Lord," said the Knight, with a sigh, and the game began.
The looks and glances which were interchanged by those about duringthis brief colloquy showed how little sympathy there was felt with thegenerosity of either side. The bettors had set their hearts on gain, andcared little for the feelings of the players.
"You see he was right," whispered the red-whiskered squire to hisneighbor; "my Lord has won the game in one hand." And so it was; in lessthan five minutes the party was over.
"Now for the conqueror," cried the Knight of Gwynne, who, somewhatnettled at a success which seemed to lessen the generous character ofhis own proposal, dealt the cards hastily, as if anxious to conclude.
"Now, Darcy, we have a better opportunity," said Lord Drogheda, smiling;"what say you to draw stakes as we stand?"
"Willingly, most willingly, my Lord. If a bad cause saps courage, I havereason to be low at heart. This foolish wager has cost me the loss ofthree nights' sleep, and if you are content--"
"But are these gentlemen here satisfied?" said Lord Drogheda; and analmost universal cry of "No" was the reply.
"Then if we are to play for the bystanders, my Lord, let us not delaythem," said the Knight, as he took up his cards and began to arrangethem.
"Darcy has it, by Jove!--the game is his," was muttered from one toanother in the crowd behind his chair, and the report, gaining currency,was soon circulated in the larger room without.
"Have you anything heavy on it, Con?" said a fashionably dressed man toHeffernan, who endeavored to force his way through the crowd to wherethe Knight sat.
"Look at Heffernan!" said another. "They say he never bets; but mark theexcitement of his face now!"
"What is it, Heffernan?" said the Knight, as the other leaned over hischair and tried to whisper something in his ear. "Is that a queen, myLord? In that case I believe the game is mine.--What is it, Heffernan?"and he bent his ear to listen; then, suddenly dashing the cards upon thetable, cried out, "Great Heaven! is this true?--the young fellow I metat Kilbeggan?"
"The same," whispered Heffernan, rapidly; "a brother officer of your sonLionel's--a cousin of Lord Castle-reagh's--a fine, dashing fellow, too."
"Where is he wounded?" asked Darcy, eagerly.
"Finish your game--I must tell you all about it," said Heffernan,folding up a letter which he had taken from his pocket a few minutesbefore.
"Your pardon, my Lord," said Darcy, with a look full of agitation; "Ihave just heard very bad news.--I play the knave." A murmur ran throughthe crowd behind him.
"You meant the king, I know, Knight," said Lord Drogheda, restoring thecard to his hand as he spoke, but a loud expression of dissatisfactionarose from those at his side.
"You are right, my Lord, I did intend the king," said the Knight; "butthese gentlemen insist upon the knave, and, if you 'll permit me, I 'llplay it."
The whole fortune of the game hung upon the card, and, after a briefstruggle, the Knight was beaten.
"Even so, my Lord," said the Knight, smiling calmly, "you have beatenme against luck; Fortune will not do everything. The Roman satirist goeseven further, and says she can do nothing." He rose as he said thesewords, and looked around for Heffernan.
"If you want Con Heffernan, Knight," said one of the party, "I think hehas gone down to the House."
"The very man," said Darcy. "Good-night, my Lord,--good-night, gentlemenall."
"I did not believe that anything could shake Darcy's nerve, but hecertainly played that game ill," said a bystander.
"Heffernan could tell us more about it," said another; "rely on it,Master Con and the devil knew why that knave was played."
The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1 (of 2) Page 11
