Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Mr. Allen O’Donagough certainly had his faults like other mortals, but a positive love of wrangling was not one of them; and though, of course, like all other sensible married men, he felt the necessity of having his own way, he always achieved it with as little quarrelling as possible. He knew that “his Barnaby” was a high-spirited woman, by no means disposed to trot very easily under the matrimonial yoke, and decidedly preferring a little skirmish now and then, though she knew that she must yield eventually, to the contemptible submissiveness of living as if she had no will of her own at all. It had therefore become almost habitual to him at all family consultations, respecting the subject of which he had made up his mind beforehand, to let her go on arguing as if it were still in doubt, and uttering his fiat only at the moment when he could walk off, and hear no more about it.

  Respecting the immediate manner of their settling themselves in England, however, he had not quite made up his mind. Not that he had the slightest intention of scouring the country in pursuit of General Hubert, and still less of quartering himself upon his household; any advantages to be derived from that quarter, he was quite aware, must besought for cautiously, and, on his part at least, with considerable tact. But, notwithstanding all his boasting on the subject of identity, he had still a few nervous doubts as to the prudence of launching himself once more upon the town. True, his sphere of action would be greatly changed; his age was changed; his beard, with all its fancy et ceteras, was changed; and, though not equally important, his name was changed. Moreover, it was exceedingly probable that the set he had left had changed too; so that, on the whole, he was pretty sanguine as to the possibility of settling himself as a gentleman of fashion and fortune in London. He really believed that “his Barnaby” might assist him in this; which belief assuredly turned aside many a strong, word, which without it might have chanced to wound her ears; and it was now with all possible civility that he listened to her, as she again burst forth with all the vehemence of strong affection on the subject of finding out and following Mrs. General Hubert.

  “I don’t think I can live, my dear Donny, till the time you say they are likely to come to town, without seeing her!” said Mrs. O’Donagough, laying aside upon the margin of her plate the chicken-bone she had been polishing. “Think what a time it is!”

  “Very true, my dear! only we shall gain one advantage that ought to console you. Were Mrs. Hubert in town at this moment, Mrs. O’Donagough, I should deem it very disadvantageous to introduce Martha to her. You may depend upon it, that none of the finery you may have brought over will be of the right sort here.” -

  “That I have no doubt in the world is true,” replied his wife, rejoicing beyond measure at this positive evidence of his intending to “new rig” them. “Even Patty herself, dear creature! young as she is, feels that, and was just saying so, as we came along. But, Lord bless you, my dear Donny, all that can be set to rights in no time, in such a place as London, if you will but let us have the money.”

  “No doubt of it, dear; but we must be exceedingly careful, I do assure you, in all things concerning that most important article. On some occasions it must be spent, and freely too. There is no help for it if we hope to do anything important. But, for that very reason, we must keep a tight hand over it, where we may do so without danger. Not that I mean to deny you and Patty fine clothes. Quite the contrary. I know they will be often necessary; and, if things go well, you shall have them.”

  On hearing this, Martha left her place at the table, where, to say truth, she had made such good use of her time, as to make her remaining there any longer quite unnecessary, and walking round to her father’s chair, testified the satisfaction his last words had afforded her, by giving him a kiss.

  “What, you like to hear that, do you, Pat? Well, be a good girl, and do in all things as I bid you, and you shall be as fine as a queen. So butter me a piece of toast.”

  “Well, but my dearest O’Donagough,” said his wife, quite as well pleased by language so encouraging as her daughter, and altogether in a state of mind the most enviable, “you must not forget my darling Agnes! And you may be quite sure, dear, that where she is, we may show off Patty to advantage. For people in their rank of life never do poke themselves in out-of-the-way places. Therefore I vote for driving to Berkeley-square, learning from the servants where the family are passing the summer, taking a lodging for a week, just for the purpose of getting the things we most want, and then setting off to enjoy the exquisite pleasure, the heartfelt satisfaction of placing my lovely child in the bosom of my niece, and receiving her little ones into mine! Shall it be so, dearest O’Donagough? Tell me, is there any objection to a plan so every way delightful?”

  “None in the world, my dear,” replied her husband, gravely proceeding with his meal. “Bing the bell, Patty, my dear; I must have a slice or two more ham.”

  “Then I may consider it as settled? Only think! in a week’s time I shall present my child, my own beautiful daughter, to the wife of a general! to a lady received at court! with dozens of titles among her nearest relations; and, nevertheless, our nearest relation into the bargain. I’ll be hanged, Donny, if it does not all seem like a dream!”

  “I dare say it does, my dear. Give me that back-bone, Patty, and thigh along with it, if you will.”

  “Then we may consider it as a settled thing, dear O’Donagough, that we are to follow the Huberts immediately?”

  “You may consider it as a settled thing, my love, that to set you and Patty off in the very best style is what I intend to do; and your relations, of course, ought to be among the first to see it.”

  Mrs. Allen O’Donagough was wise enough to take counsel with herself before she said any more upon the subject; and being, notwithstanding all their seeming consultations on the subject, most utterly ignorant of all her husband’s real plots and plans, she was, on the whole, inclined to flatter herself that her wishes respecting their immediate destination would be attended to; for, as she justly observed to her daughter, when they were alone, “clever as Mr. O’Donagough is about most things, it is quite impossible he should know as much about the dear Huberts as I do!”

  Thus, on the whole, their first evening in London was passed in great domestic harmony; but Mrs. O’Donagough and her daughter both declaring themselves early ready for bed, Mr. O’Donagough affectionately advised them to yield to the inclination, and saying, almost in the words of Prospero —

  ’Tis a good dulness,

  bid them good night, with the assurance that though he was obliged to go out for half an hour, to get a refractory razor put in order, he should also, probably, be very early in bed. He then kindly lighted candles for them, nay, even opened the door with a smile so gracious, and manner so observant, that Mrs. O’Donagough was forcibly reminded of the fascinations of other days; and when he again wished her good night, as she passed out, she too looked up at him, with a glance as like her former glances as she could make it, at the same time, however, patting his chin playfully, she said, “Oh! why did you cut off your whiskers, dear?”

  “Why did I cut off my whiskers?” he repeated, as soon as the door was closed behind them. “That I might sally forth, my charming Barnaby, as I will do this night, with the delightful confidence of being recognised by no one.”

  The sensations produced on an Englishman by returning to London after even a much shorter absence than that of Mr. Allen O’Donagough, are always powerful; and, if no particular circumstances exist to injure the effect, exceedingly delightful. The stupendous world it incloses, is sure to have spread farther and wider still, than when he left it. New displays of wealth — new demonstrations of the power it brings — new proofs of that excess of civilisation, which, for lack of other work, turns the genius of man to the production of varieties in every article he uses, because improvement can go no farther. All this he is sure to see at every step he takes; and then the aspect of all those he meets, at once so familiar to his memory, yet personally so utterly unknown. The f
eatures, the complexion, the gait, bringing to his eye and his heart associations a thousand times more intimately belonging to him, notwithstanding the individual strangeness of each, than he could ever have felt in the foreign land whence he returned. Of all this Mr. Allen O’Donagough was fully conscious, and the excitement it produced was exceedingly agreeable.

  As he walked farther and farther westward, these pleasant sensations multiplied; his heart swelled with a well-balanced mixture of national and individual triumph; and, notwithstanding all the awkward accidents of his past life, he would have been sorry to run the risk of changing conditions with any person he met. He knew he must have been a monstrously clever fellow, to be where and what he was at that moment; and he felt this with a very natural degree of satisfaction at the conviction. After all that had passed, the particulars of which, even to himself, he did not think it necessary to recapitulate — after all this, at the age of fifty-three, to find himself parading the streets of London, clear as a new-born babe from every taint of civil sin, and with his pockets full of cash, that no man could seize upon, and cry, “Rascal! that cash is mine!” was a degree of prosperity that might well make him feel some inches taller than usual as he walked.

  It was by an impulse that had as much of instinct in it as will, that he at length found himself among the billiard-rooms of Leicester Square and its precincts. The unsightly Palais Royal of London surrounded him on all sides; and as he looked at its increased glow of gaslight, and breathed the queer mixture with which it has there pleased man to supply his lungs, in lieu of atmospheric air, he felt that he was once again AT HOME!

  It would have required a much stronger effort than he conceived himself called upon to make, to avoid entering beneath one of the many roofs, which by night and day sheltered the devotees who pass their existence in making three little ivory balls run about and knock each other. He did enter; and mounting the stairs with a step as eager, though less active than heretofore, found himself, not without some emotion, on a spot where he had stood a thousand times before.

  There were many persons in the room; but he looked round, and saw not one single face that he remembered, till the marker, changing his place, displayed to him features, once as familiar to his eye as the dial on which he scored his games; but with an expression which, though not changed, was marked by lines so much stronger and deeper than heretofore, that the man looked like a caricature of his former self.

  At first sight of him, Mr. Allen O’Donagough started, and felt half inclined to turn about, and make his exit before he had caught his eye. But his better judgment told him that by so doing he would lose an excellent opportunity of testing the effect of his altered appearance on an old acquaintance, and be forced to try it where it might perhaps be much more dangerous to fail. He therefore stood his ground; and when he perceived that the man’s eye rested quietly and steadily on him, without the slightest indication of ever having examined his features before, his confidence increased sufficiently to lead him into conversation. The result was all that he desired; his observations were sufficiently scientific to merit even a marker’s attention, and the man both looked at and listened to him, but still without betraying any trace of remembrance whatever. While suffering some little anxiety from his doubts how this experiment might answer, Mr. Allen O’Donagough probably forgot the great advantage (under existing circumstances) of fifteen years which had passed over his curls since he had last appeared before the eyes which so fortunately knew him not. Of all his advantages, perhaps this was the only one of which our ci-devant major was not fully sensible.

  Nothing could exceed the lightness and gaiety of heart which ensued upon this successful experiment. He felt himself born again into the only world in which he wished to five; his outward skin, somewhat the worse for the wear, cast off, all his talents ripened, and his character and name without a stain!

  There was one triumph more, a touch of which he was determined to enjoy without further delay. Mr. Allen O’Donagough had played billiards when he left England, but he played so much better now, that he could not but fancy his chance with the professional individual who had formerly been the object of his emulation and his envy, would be very different from what it was in days past. He accordingly engaged him as soon as the tables should be at leisure; and when the moment arrived, set about the game with almost as zealous a desire to win it, as if he had staked ten times the amount they were to play for.

  The play of Mr. Allen O’Donagough was certainly improved; perhaps that of the marker was improved also; but neither the one nor the other had lost or forgotten any of those little peculiar touches of skill which distinguish one great billiard-man from another. The marker’s eye had perused the person and countenance of the new comer, something as an athlete of old might have done the conformation of one about to wrestle with him; and this survey had brought no single trait or movement to his mind, which suggested a suspicion that they had ever met before. No sooner, however, were the halls in full action, than a particular stroke, for which our major had been famous, awakened some long-forgotten manœuvrings in the marker’s mind, and he suddenly turned round and directed a stare pregnant with inquiry into the stranger’s face.

  “Beg your pardon, sir; but may I ask your name?” said the man, with great civility.

  “O’Donagough. What is your reason for asking?” was the reply. But as he made it, the colour mounted over the ample cheeks of the incognito, and he felt he had made a blunder.

  “Only because that pretty hazard of yours put me so in mind of a chap that used to play here half a score years ago, or more, may be; and I don’t remember to have seen exact the same stroke from any other man.”

  “Do you know this stroke?” demanded Mr. Allen O’Donagough, recovering himself, and performing a very skilful manœuvre that he had learned from a New Orleans man, with whom he had played at Sydney.

  “No, sir! No, upon my soul! That is quite a foreign stroke, I take it, — you have played abroad, sir, I’ll be bound.”

  “I learnt that at New Orleans,” replied Mr. Allen O’Donagough.

  “No wonder, sir, that you’re a good player, then; for I have known New Orleans men as have beat us all hollow.”

  Mr. Allen O’Donagough won his game, and retired; having received a hint which he felt might be very useful to him. “Egad! I must shave my play, as well as my mustache, if I intend to remain incog,” was the thought that passed through his head, as he gaily proceeded to reconnoitre, during another hour or so, the various alterations, additions, and improvements made during his absence throughout all the regions that he knew and loved the best. But like a prudent domestic man as he was, he returned soon after midnight to the Saracen’s Head, having just done and seen enough to make him equally sanguine and impatient as regarded the variety of brilliant experiments which lay before him.

  CHAPTER X.

  IF the result of Mr. Allen O’Donagough’s experiment upon the memory of the billiard-marker had been productive of satisfaction to himself, its consequences were more gratifying still to his lady. Little as he had said about it, his private intention had been to keep as much as possible out of the way of General Hubert, and all the brilliant set in which he presumed him to move, till he should be prepared to meet him advantageously.

  The first step towards this was, the ascertaining that his own altered appearance was likely to prevent all danger of disagreeable reminiscences; the second must, of course, consist in preparations for assuming such an appearance and manner of life as might justify the ambitious hope of being received as a relation.

  To this he attached quite as much importance as his wife, though he said much less about it, and was determined to hazard more, and run greater risks to obtain it, than it ever entered into her head to hope for.

  Mr. Allen O’Donagough had ever been a man of spirit and enterprise; and having paid the penalty, almost inevitable in his line, upon indulging with too little caution in the display of his peculiar talents, he now
determined, with ripened age, and ripened wisdom, to carry on business with that species of boldness and prudence united, which is only to be found in the very highest class of his profession. During many years of his residence in New South Wales, his purpose had been to make Paris the theatre of his future experiments; but he saw, or fancied he saw, in the remarkable accident which had brought him within reach of such persons as his wife claimed kindred with, the possibility of a career infinitely more distinguished than he had ever before ventured to hope for. There was considerable sagacity displayed in the reasoning by which he convinced himself that the very circumstances that seemed to render such hopes almost ridiculously audacious, would, in reality, make their attainment easy. Had General Hubert, and the wealthy and distinguished persons with whom he was connected, been less completely above all and everything with which Mr. Allen O’Donagough had mixed himself during his former life, there might, and must have been danger, notwithstanding his changed appearance, of such accidental allusions to past scenes, as it might have been very difficult to get over. But, as it was, nothing of the kind could be at all likely to occur; and having once made up his mind to hazard, as a necessary outlay, a considerable portion of the money he had contrived to make, he became almost as impatient to open the campaign as Mrs. O’Donagough herself.

  During the course of the following day much business was got through. By inquiries made according to Mrs. O’Donagough’s suggestion in Berkeley-square, it was ascertained that General Hubert’s family were at Brighton. By boldly parading through all the different haunts where formerly he was best known, Mr. O’Donagough found there was no danger whatever of his being recognised as the flash Major Allen, once so conspicuous among them. By the placing an English bank-note for twenty pounds in the hands of his wife, with a declaration, that it was to he wholly expended, in the decoration of herself and her daughter, he produced in the hearts of both a throb of pleasure which few things in this life can equal; and laid the foundation of two wardrobes, which were destined for years to be the admiration of many beholders. And, by placing himself in the hands of a first-rate German artist in St. James’s-street, he was not only sure of coming forth from them as near in shape and air to the standard he desired to obtain, as it was possible for mortal shears to make him; but with as much safety as any precaution could insure of not permitting his person to be studied by any operator, who had ever enjoyed that advantage before.