Lord Kilgobbin Part 34

'I am coming to that, if you will spare me a little patience: Saxon slowness is a blemish you'll have to grow accustomed to. If Lord Danesbury should know that you are an acquaintance of the Kilgobbin family, and ask you what would be a suitable mode of showing how their conduct has been appreciated in a high quarter, you should be prepared with an answer.'

Atlee's eyes twinkled with a malicious drollery, and he had to bite his lips to repress an impertinence that seemed almost to master his prudence, and at last he said carelessly--

'd.i.c.k Kearney might get something.'

'I suppose you know that his qualifications will be tested. You bear that in mind, I hope--'

'Yes. I was just turning it over in my head, and I thought the best thing to do would be to make him a Civil Service Commissioner. They are the only people taken on trust.'

'You are severe, Mr. Atlee. Have these gentlemen earned this dislike on your part?'

'Do you mean by having rejected me? No, that they have not. I believe I could have survived that; and if, however, they had come to the point of telling me that they were content with my acquirements, and what is called "pa.s.sed me," I fervently believe I should have been seized with an apoplexy.'

'Mr. Atlee's opinion of himself is not a mean one,' said Walpole, with a cold smile.

'On the contrary, sir, I have occasion to feel pretty often in every twenty-four hours what an ignominious part a man plays in life who has to affect to be taught what he knows already--to be asking the road where he has travelled every step of the way--and to feel that a threadbare coat and broken boots take more from the value of his opinions than if he were a knave or a blackleg.'

'I don't see the humility of all this.'

'I feel the shame of it, though,' said Atlee; and as he arose and walked out upon the terrace, the veins in his forehead were swelled and knotted, and his lips trembled with suppressed pa.s.sion.

In a tone that showed how thoroughly indifferent he felt to the other's irritation, Walpole went on to say: 'You will then make it your business, Mr. Atlee, to ascertain in what way most acceptable to those people at Kilgobbin his Excellency may be able to show them some mark of royal favour--bearing in mind not to commit yourself to anything that may raise great expectations. In fact, a recognition is what is intended, not a reward.'

Atlee's eyes fell upon the opal ring, which he always wore since the day Walpole had given it to him, and there was something so significant in the glance that the other flushed as he caught it.

'I believe I appreciate the distinction,' said Atlee quietly. 'It is to be something in which the generosity of the donor is more commemorated than the merits of the person rewarded, and, consequently, a most appropriate recognition of the Celt by the Saxon. Do you think I ought to go down to Kilgobbin Castle, sir?'

'I am not quite sure about that; I'll turn it over in my mind. Meanwhile I'll telegraph to my lord that, if he approves, I shall send you over to Wales; and you had better make what arrangements you have to make, to be ready to start at a moment.'

'Unfortunately, sir, I have none. I am in the full enjoyment of such complete dest.i.tution, that I am always ready to go anywhere.'

Walpole did not notice the words, but arose and walked over to a writing-table to compose his message for the telegraph.

'There,' said he, as he folded it, 'have the kindness to despatch this at once, and do not be out of the way about five, or half-past, when I shall expect an answer.'

'Am I free to go into town meanwhile?' asked Atlee.

Walpole nodded a.s.sent without speaking.

'I wonder if this sort of flunkeydom be good for a man,' muttered Atlee to himself as he sprang down the stairs. 'I begin to doubt it. At all events, I understand now the secret of the first lieutenant's being a tyrant: he has once been a middy. And so I say, let me only reach the ward-room, and Heaven help the c.o.c.kpit!'

CHAPTER XXV

ATLEE'S EMBARRa.s.sMENTS

When Atlee returned to dress for dinner, he was sent for hurriedly by Walpole, who told him that Lord Danesbury's answer had arrived with the order, 'Send him over at once, and write fully at the same time.'

'There is an eleven o'clock packet, Atlee, to-night,' said he: 'you must manage to start by that. You'll reach Holyhead by four or thereabouts, and can easily get to the castle by mid-day.'

'I wish I had had a little more time,' muttered the other. 'If I am to present myself before his Excellency in such a "rig" as this--'

'I have thought of that. We are nearly of the same size and build; you are, perhaps, a trifle taller, but nothing to signify. Now Buckmaster has just sent me a ma.s.s of things of all sorts from town; they are in my dressing-room, not yet unpacked. Go up and look at them after dinner: take what suits you--as much--all, if you like--but don't delay now. It only wants a few minutes of seven o'clock.'

Atlee muttered his thanks hastily, and went his way. If there was a thoughtfulness in the generosity of this action, the mode in which it was performed--the measured coldness of the words--the look of impa.s.sive examination that accompanied them, and the abstention from anything that savoured of apology for a liberty--were all deeply felt by the other.

It was true, Walpole had often heard him tell of the freedom with which he had treated d.i.c.k Kearney's wardrobe, and how poor d.i.c.k was scarcely sure he could call an article of dress his own, whenever Joe had been the first to go out into the town. The innumerable straits to which he reduced that unlucky chum, who had actually to deposit a dinner-suit at an hotel to save it from Atlee's rapacity, had amused Walpole; but then these things were all done in the spirit of the honest familiarity that prevailed between them--the tie of true _camaraderie_ that neither suggested a thought of obligation on one side nor of painful inferiority on the other. Here it was totally different. These men did not live together with that daily interchange of liberties which, with all their pa.s.sing contentions, so accustom people to each other's humours as to establish the soundest and strongest of all friendships. Walpole had adopted Atlee because he found him useful in a variety of ways. He was adroit, ready-witted, and intelligent; a half-explanation sufficed with him on anything--a mere hint was enough to give him for an interview or a reply. He read people readily, and rarely failed to profit by the knowledge. Strange as it may seem, the great blemish of his manner--his sn.o.bbery--Walpole rather liked than disliked it. I was a sort of qualifying element that satisfied him, as though it said, 'With all that fellow's cleverness, he is not "one of us."

He might make a wittier reply, or write a smarter note; but society has its little tests--not one of which he could respond to.' And this was an inferiority Walpole loved to cherish and was pleased to think over.

Atlee felt that Walpole might, with very little exercise of courtesy, have dealt more considerately by him.

'I'm not exactly a valet,' muttered he to himself, 'to whom a man flings a waistcoat as he chucks a shilling to a porter. I am more than Mr. Walpole's equal in many things, which are not accidents of fortune.'

He knew scores of things he could do better than him; indeed, there were very few he could not.

Poor Joe was not, however, aware that it was in the 'not doing' lay Walpole's secret of superiority; that the inborn sense of abstention is the great distinguishing element of the cla.s.s Walpole belonged to; and he might hara.s.s himself for ever, and yet never guess where it was that the distinction evaded him.

Atlee's manner at dinner was unusually cold and silent. He habitually made the chief efforts of conversation, now he spoke little and seldom. When Walpole talked, it was in that careless discursive way it was his wont to discuss matters with a familiar. He often put questions, and as often went on without waiting for the answers.

As they sat over the dessert and were alone, he adverted to the other's mission, throwing out little hints, and cautions as to manner, which Atlee listened to in perfect silence, and without the slightest sign that could indicate the feeling they produced.

'You are going into a new country, Atlee,' said he at last, 'and I am sure you will not be sorry to learn something of the geography.'

'Though it may mar a little of the adventure,' said the other, smiling.

'Ah, that's exactly what I want to warn you against. With us in England, there are none of those social vicissitudes you are used to here. The game of life is played gravely, quietly, and calmly. There are no brilliant successes of bold talkers, no _coups de theatre_ of amusing _raconteurs_: no one tries to push himself into any position of eminence.'

A half-movement of impatience, as Atlee pushed his wine-gla.s.s before him, arrested the speaker.

'I perceive,' said he stiffly, 'you regard my counsels as unnecessary.'

'Not that, sir, so much as hopeless,' rejoined the other coldly.

'His Excellency will ask you, probably, some questions about this country: let me warn you not to give him Irish answers.'

'I don't think I understand you, sir.'

'I mean, don't deal in any exaggerations, avoid extravagance, and never be slapdash.'

'Oh, these are Irish, then?'

Without deigning reply to this, Walpole went on--

'Of course you have your remedy for all the evils of Ireland. I never met an Irishman who had not. But I beg you spare his lordship your theory, whatever it is, and simply answer the questions he will ask you.'