CHAPTER XXVII. THE KNIGHT'S RETURN
We must now for a brief space, return to the Knight, as with a heavyheart he journeyed homeward. Never did the long miles seem so wearisomebefore, often and often as he had travelled them. The little accidentaldelays, which once he had met with a ready jest, and in a spirit ofkindly indulgence, he now resented as so many intentional insults uponhis changed and ruined fortune. The gossiping landlords, to whom hehad ever extended so much of freedom, he either acknowledged coldly, orrepelled with distance; their liberties were now construed into want ofdeference and respect; the very jestings of the postboys to each otherseemed so many covert impertinences, and equivocal allusions to himself;for even so much will the stroke of sudden misfortune change the nature,and convert the contented and happy spirit into a temperament of gloomysorrow and suspicion.
Unconscious of his own altered feelings, and looking at every objectthrough the dim light of his own calamity, he hurried along, not, asof old, recognizing each well-known face, saluting this one, inquiringafter that; he sat back in his carriage, and, with his hat drawn almostover his eyes, neither noticed the way nor the wayfarers.
In this mood it was he entered Castlebar. The sight of hiswell-remembered carriage drew crowds of beggars to the door of the inn,every one of whom had some special prayer for aid, or some narrativeof sickness for his hearing. By the time the horses drew up, thecrowd numbered some hundreds of every variety, not only in age, butin raggedness, all eagerly calling on him by name, and imploring hisprotection on grounds the most strange and dissimilar.
"I knew the sound of the wheels; ax Biddy if I did n't say it was hishonor was coming!" cried one, in a sort of aside intended for the Knighthimself.
"Ye 're welcome home, sir; long may you reign over us," said an oldfellow with a beard like a pilgrim. "I dreamed I seen you last nightstanding at the door there, wid a half-crown in your fingers. 'OuidLuke,' says you, 'come here!----'"
A burst of rude laughter drowned this sage parable, while a good-lookingyoung woman, with an expression of softness in features degraded bypoverty and its consequences, courtesied low, and tried to attracthis notice, as she held up a miserable-looking infant to the carriagewindow. "Clap them, acushla! 't is proud he is to see you back again,sir; he never forgets the goold guinea ye gave him on New Year's Day!Don't be pushin' that way, you rude cray-tures; you want to hurt thechild, and it's the image of his honor."
"Many returns of the blessed sason to you," growled out a creature in abonnet, but in face and figure far more like a man than a woman; "throwus out a fippenny to buy two ounces of tay. Asy, asy; don't be drivin'me under the wheels--ugh! it's no place for a faymale, among suchrapscallions."
"What did they give you, Maurice? how much did you get, honey?" crieda tall and almost naked fellow, that leaned over the heads of severalothers, and put his face close to the glass of the carriage, which, forsafety's sake, the Knight now let down, while he called aloud to thepostboys to make haste and bring out the horses.
"Tell us all about it, Maurice, my boy,--are you a lord, or a bishop?"cried the tall fellow, with an eagerness of face that told his own sadbereavement, for he was deranged in intellect from a fall from one ofthe cliffs on the coast. "By my conscience, I think I must change mypolitics myself soon; my best pantaloons is like Nat Fitzgibbon,--it hasresigned its sate! Out with a bit of silver here!--quick, I didn't kissthe King's face this ten days."
To all these entreaties Darcy seemed perfectly deaf; if his eyeswandered over the crowd, they noticed nothing there, nor did he appearto listen to a word around him, while he again asked why the horses werenot coming.
"We're doing our best, your honor," cried a postboy, "but it's mightyhard to get through these divils; they won't stir till the beasts istrampling them down."
"Drive on, then, and let them take care of themselves," said the Knight,sternly.
"O blessed Father! there's a way to talk of the poor! O heavenly Vargin!but you are come back cruel to us, after all!"
"Drive on!" shouted out Darcy, in a voice of angry impatience.
The postboys sprang into their saddles, cracked their whips, and dashedforward, while the mob, rent in a hundred channels, fled on every side,with cries of terror and shouts of laughter, according as the distancesuggested danger or security. All escaped safely, except the poor idiot,Flury, who, having one foot on the step when the carriage started, wasthrown backward, when, to save himself, he grasped the spring, and wasthus half dragged, half carried along to the end of the street, andthere, failing strength and fear combining, he relinquished his hold andfell senseless to the ground, where the wheel grazed but did not injurehim as he lay.
With a cry of terror, the Knight called out "Stop!" and, flinging widethe door, sprang out. To lift the poor fellow up to a sitting posturewas the work of a second, while he asked, in accents the very kindest,if he were hurt.
"Sorra bit, Maurice," said the fellow, whose faculties sooner ralliedthan if they were habitually under better control. "I was on the wrongside of the coach, that's all; 't is safer to be within. The clothes isnot the better of it," said he, looking at his sleeve, now hanging instripes.
"Never mind that, Flury; we'll soon repair that misfortune; it does notsignify much."
"Does n't it, faith?" said the other, shaking his head dubiously; "'tisasy talking, but I can't turn my coat without showing the hole in it. 'Tis only the rich can do that."
The Knight bit his lip; for even from the fool's sarcasm he couldgather the imputations already rife upon his conduct. Another and a verydifferent thought succeeded to this, and he blushed with shame to thinkhow far his sense of his own misfortune had rendered him indifferent,not only to the kindly feelings, but the actual misery, of others. Theright impulses of high-minded men are generally rapid in their action,like the spring of the bent bow when the cord is cut asunder. It didnot cost Darcy many minutes to be again the warm-hearted, generous soulnature had made him.
"Come, Flury," said he to the poor fellow, as he stood ruefullysurveying his damaged drapery, "give that among the people there in thetown, and keep this for yourself."
"This is goold, Maurice,--yellow goold!"
"So it is; but you're not the less welcome to it; tell them, too, thatI have had troubles of my own lately; and that's the reason I hurried onwithout exchanging a word with them."
"How do you know, Maurice, but I'll keep it all to myself?".
"I'd trust you with a heavier sum," said the Knight, smiling.
"I know why,--I know why, well enough,--because I'm a fool. Never mind,there's greater fools nor me going. What did they give you up there foryour vote, Maurice,--tell me, how much was it?"
The Knight shook his head, and Flury resumed: "Didn't I say it? Wasn'tI right? By my ould hat! there's two fools in the country now;--MauriceDarcy and Red Flury; and Maurice the biggest of the two! Whoop, the morethe merrier; there 's room for us all!" And with this wise reflection,Flury gave a very wild caper and a wilder shout, and set off at thespeed of a hare towards Castlebar.
The Knight resumed his journey, and in a more contented mood. The littleincident had called on him for an exertion, and his faculties onlyneeded the demand to respond to the call. He summoned to his aid,besides, every comforting reflection in his power; he persuaded himselfthat there were some hopes remaining still, and tried to believe theevil not beyond remedy. "After all," thought he, "we are together; it isnot death has been dealing with us, nor is there any stain upon our fairfame; and, save these, all ills are light, and can be borne."
From thoughts like these he was aroused by the heavy clank of the irongate, as it fell back to admit the carriage within the park, while athousand welcomes saluted him.
"Thank you, Darby!--thank you, Mary! All well up at the abbey?"
But the carriage dashed past at full speed, and the answer was drownedin the tumult. The postboys, true to the etiquette of their calling, hadreserved their best pace for the finish, and it was at the stride of ahunting
gallop they now tore along.
It was a calm night, with a young faint moon and a starry sky, which,without displaying in bright light the details of the scenery, yetexhibited them in strong, bold masses, making all seem even moreimposing and grander than in reality; the lofty mountain appearedhigher, the dark woods vaster, and the wide-spreading lawn seemed tostretch away into immense plains. Darcy's heart swelled with pride ashe looked, while a pang shot through him as he thought, if even at thathour he could call them his own.
They had now reached a little glen, where the postboys were obliged towalk their blown cattle; emerging from this, they passed a thick groveof beech, and at once came in sight of the abbey. Darcy leaned anxiouslyfrom the window to catch the first sight of home, when what was hisamazement to perceive that the whole was lighted up from end to end. Thegreat suite of state rooms were a blaze of lustres, which even at thatdistance glittered in their starry brilliancy, and showed the shadows offigures moving within. He well knew that Lady Eleanor never saw companyin his absence,--what could this mean? Tortured with doubts that in histhen state of mind took every painful form, he ordered the postilions toget on faster, and at the very top of their speed they tore along, overthe wide lawn, across the terrace drive, up the steep ascent to the gatetower into the courtyard.
This was also brilliantly lighted by lamps from the walls, and also bythe lights of numerous carriage lamps which crowded the ample space.
"What is this? Can no one tell me?" muttered the Knight, as he leapedfrom the carriage, and, seizing a livery servant who was passing, said,"What is going on here? What company has the abbey?"
"Full of company," said the man, in an English accent; "there 's myLord--"
"Who do you mean?"
"The Earl of Netherby, sir, and Sir Harry Beauclerk, and ColonelCrofton, and--"
"When did they arrive?" said the Knight, interrupting a catalogue, everyname of which, although unknown, sent a feeling like a stab through hisheart.
"They came the evening before last, sir; Mr. Lionel Darcy, who arrivedthe same morning--"
"Is he here?" cried the Knight; and, without waiting for more, hastenedforward.
The servants, of whom there seemed a great number about, were in strangeliveries, and unknown to the Knight; nor was it without undergoing avery cool scrutiny from them that Darcy succeeded in gaining admittanceto his own house. At last he reached the foot of the great stair, whencethe sounds of music and the din of voices filled the air; servantshurried along with refreshments, or carried orders to others in waiting;all was bustle and excitement, in the midst of which Darcy stood onlyhalf conscious of the reality of what he saw, and endeavoring to reasonhimself into a conviction of what he heard. It was at this moment thatseveral officers of a newly quartered regiment passed up, admiring, asthey went, the splendor of the house, and the magnificent preparationsthey witnessed on every side.
330]
"I say, Dallas," cried one, "you're always talking of your uncleBeverley: does he do the thing in this style, eh?"
"By Jove!" interposed a short, thick-set major, with a bushy beard andeyebrows, "this is what I call going the pace: do they give dinnershere?"
"Yes, that they do," said a white-faced, ghostly looking ensign; "Iheard all about this place from Giles of the 40th; he was quarteredsix months in this county, and used to grub here half the week. The oldfellow is n't at home now, but they say he's a trump."
"Let's drink his health, Watkins," cried the first speaker, "here'schampagne going up;" and so saying, the party gathered around twoservants, one of whom carried an ice-pail with some bottles, and theother a tray of glasses.
"Does any one know his name, though?" said the major, as he held hisglass to be filled.
"Yes, it's something like--Oh, you know that fellow that joined us atCoventry?"
"Brereton, is it?"
"No, hang it! I mean the fellow that had the crop-eared cob with thewhite legs. Never mind, here he goes, anyhow."
"Oh, I know who you mean,--it was Jack Quin."
"That's the name; and your friend here is called 'Gwynne,' I think.Here, gentlemen, I give you Gwynne's health, and all the honors; may helive a few centuries more--"
"With a warm heart and a cool cellar," added one.
"Pink champagne, and red-coats to drink it," chimed in the ensign.
"May I join you in that pleasant sentiment, gentlemen?" said the Knight,bowing courteously, as he took a glass from the tray and held it towardsthe servant.
"Make no apology, sir," said the major, eying him rather superciliously,for the travelling dress concealed the Knight's appearance, anddistinguished him but slightly from many of those lounging around thedoors.
"Capital ginger-beer that! eh?" said the ensign, as, winking at hiscompanions, he proceeded to quiz the stranger.
"I have certainly drunk worse," said the Knight, gravely,--"at aninfantry mess."
There was a pause before he uttered the last three words, which gavethem a more direct application; a stare, half stupid, half impertinent,was, however, all they elicited, and the group moved on, while theKnight, disencumbering himself of his travelling gear, slowly followedthem.
"Grim old gentlemen these, ain't they?" said the major, gazing at thelong line of family portraits that covered the walls; "that fellow withthe truncheon does not seem to like the look of us."
"Here's a bishop, I take it, with the great wig."
"That's a chancellor, man; don't you see the mace? But he's not a whitmore civil-looking than the other; commend me to the shepherdess yonder,in blue satin. But come on, we 're losing time; I hear the flourish ofa new dance. I say," said he, in a whisper, "do you see who we've gotbehind us?" And they turned and saw the Knight as he mounted the stairsbehind them.
"A friend of the family, sir?" asked the major, in a voice that mightbear the equivocal meaning of either impertinence or mere inquiry.
The Knight seemed to prefer taking it in the latter acceptation, as heanswered mildly, "I have that honor."
"Ah! indeed; well, we 've the misfortune to be strangers in theseparts; only arrived in the neighborhood last week, and were invited herethrough our colonel. Would you have any objection to present us?--MajorHopecot of the 5th, Captain Mills, Mr. Dallas, Mr. Fothergill, Mr.Watkins."
"How the major _is_ going it!" lisped the ensign, while his goggle eyesrolled fearfully, and the others seemed struggling to control theirenjoyment of such drollery.
"It will afford me much pleasure, sir, to do your bidding," said theKnight, calmly.
"Take the head of the column, then," resumed the major, making way forhim to pass; and the Knight entered, with the others after him.
"My father--my dearest father!" cried a voice at the moment, and,escaping from her partner, Helen was in a moment in bis arms. The nextinstant Lionel was also at his side.
"My dear children!--my sweet Helen!--and Lionel, how well you 'relooking, boy! Ah! Eleanor, what a pleasant surprise you have managed forme."
"Then perhaps you never got our letter," said Lady Eleanor, as she tookhis arm and walked forward. "I wrote the moment I heard from Lionel."
"And I, too, wrote you a long letter from London," said Lionel.
"Neither reached me; but the last few days I have been so busy, and somuch occupied.--How are you, Conolly? Delighted to see you, Martin.--AndLady Julia, is she here? I must take a tour and see all my friends.First of all, I have a duty to perform; let me introduce thesegentlemen. But where are they? Oh, I see them yonder." And, as he spoke,he led Lady Eleanor across the room to the group of officers, who,overwhelmed with shame at their discovery, stood uncertain whether theyshould remain or retire.
"Let me introduce Major Hopecot and the officers of the 5th," said he,bowing courteously. "These gentlemen are strangers, Lady Eleanor; willyou take care that they find partners."
While the abashed subalterns left their major to make his speeches toLady Eleanor, the Knight moved round the room with Helen still leaningon his arm. By this
time Darcy's arrival was generally known, and allhis old friends came pressing forward to see and speak to him.
"Lord Netherby," whispered Helen in the Knight's ear, as a tall and verythin old man, with an excessive affectation of youthfulness, trippedforward to meet him.
"My dear Lord," exclaimed Darcy, "what a pleasure, and what an honor tosee you here!"
"You would not come to me, Knight, so there was nothing else for it,"replied the other, laughing, as he shook hands with a great display ofcordiality. "And you were quite right," continued he; "I could not havereceived you like this. There 's not so splendid a place in England,nor has it ever been my fortune to witness so much beauty." A half bowaccompanied the last words, as he turned towards Helen.
"Take care, my Lord," said the Knight, smiling; "the flatteries of acourtier are very dangerous things when heard out of the atmosphere thatmakes them commonplace. We may take you literally, and have our headsturned by them."
At this moment Lionel joined them, to introduce several of his friendsand brother officers who accompanied him from England, all of whom werereceived by the Knight with that winning courtesy of manner of which hewas a perfect master; for, not affecting either the vices or frivolitiesof youth as a claim to the consideration of younger men, the Knightpossessed the happy temper that can concede indulgence without askingto partake of it, and, while losing nothing of the relish for wit andhumor, chasten both by the fruits of a life's experience.
"Now, Helen, you must go back to your partner; that young guardsmanlooks very sulkily at me for having taken you off--yes, I insist onit. Lionel, look to your friends, and I 'll join Lord Netherby'swhist-table, and talk whenever permitted. Where 's poor Tate?" whisperedhe in Lady Eleanor's ear, as she just came up.
"Poor fellow! he has been ill for some days back; you know whata superstitious creature he is; and about a week since he got afright,--some warning of a Banshee, I think; but it shook his nervesgreatly, and he has kept his bed almost ever since. Lionel brought oversome of these servants with him; but Lord Netherby's people are Legion,and the servants' hall now numbers something like seventy, I hear."
The Knight heaved a sigh; but, catching himself, tried to conceal it bya cough. Lady Eleanor had heard it, however, and stole a quick glancetowards him, to evade which he turned abruptly round and spoke to someone near.
"Seventy, my dear Eleanor!" said he, after a pause, and as if he hadbeen reflecting over his last observation; "and what a Babel, too, itmust be! I heard French, German, and Italian in the hall; I think we canpromise Irish ourselves."
"Yes," said Lionel, "it is the most amusing scene in the world. They hada ball last night in the lower gallery, where boleros and jigs succeededeach other, while the refreshments ranged from iced lemonade to burntwhiskey."
"And what did our worthy folk think of their visitors?" said Darcy,smiling.
"Not over much. Paddy Lennan looked with great contempt at the mensipping _orgeat_, and when he saw the waltzing, merely remarked, 'We'vea betther way of getting round the girls in Ireland;' while old PierreDulange, Netherby's valet, persists in addressing the native company as'Messieurs les Sauvages.'"
"I hope, for the sake of the public peace, they 've not got aninterpreter among them."
"No, no, all's safe on that score, and freedom of speech has suggestedthe most perfect code of good manners; for it would seem, as they canindulge themselves in the most liberal reflections on each other, theyhave no necessity of proceeding to overt acts."
"Now," said the Knight, "let me not interrupt the revelry longer. Toyour place, Lionel, and leave me to pay my devoirs to my friends andkind neighbors."
The Knight's presence seemed alone wanting to fill up the measure ofenjoyment. Most of those present were his old familiar friends, gladto see once more amongst them the great promoter of kind feeling andhospitality, while from such as were strangers he easily won goldenopinions, the charm of courtesy being with him like a well-fittinggarment, which graced, but did not impede, the wearer's motions.
He had a hundred questions to ask and to answer. The news of the capitaltravelled in those days by slow and easy stages, and the moment wassufficiently eventful to warrant curiosity; and so, as he passed fromgroup to group, he gave the current gossip of the time as each in turnasked after this circumstance or that.
At length he took his place beside Lord Netherby, as he sat engaged ata whist-table, where the gathering crowd that gradually collected soonconverted the game into a social circle of eager talkers.
Who could have suspected that easy, unconstrained manner, that winningsmile, that ready laugh, the ever-present jest, to cover the working ofa heart so nigh to breaking? And yet he talked pleasantly and freely,narrating with all his accustomed humor the chit-chat of the time; andwhile of course, the great question of the hour occupied every tongueand ear, all Lord Netherby's practised shrewdness could not enable himto detect the exact part the Knight himself had taken.
"And so they have carried the bill," said Conolly, with a sigh, as helistened to Darcy's account of the second reading. "Well, though I neverwas a Parliament man, nor expected to be one, I'm sorry for it. Youthink that strange, my Lord?"
"By no means, sir. A man may love monarchy without being the heirapparent."
"Quite true," chimed in the Knight. "I would even go further, and saythat, without any warm devotion to a king, a man may hate a regicide."
Lord Netherby's eyes met Darcy's, and the wily peer smiled with asignificance that seemed to say, "I know you _now_."
The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1 (of 2) Page 29
