Lord Kilgobbin Part 46

The little basket-carriage in which Nina made her excursions, and which courtesy called a phaeton, would scarcely have been taken as a model at Long Acre. A ma.s.sive old wicker-cradle const.i.tuted the body, which, from a slight inequality in the wheels, had got an uncomfortable 'lurch to port,'

while the rumble was supplied by a narrow shelf, on which her foot-page sat _dos a dos_ to herself--a position not rendered more dignified by his invariable habit of playing pitch-and-toss with himself, as a means of distraction in travel.

Except Bob, the st.u.r.dy little pony in the shafts, nothing could be less schooled or disciplined than Larry himself. At sight of a party at marbles or hopscotch, he was sure to desert his post, trusting to short cuts and speed to catch up his mistress later on.

As for Bob, a tuft of clover or fresh gra.s.s on the roadside were temptations to the full as great to him, and no amount of whipping could induce him to continue his road leaving these dainties untasted. As in Mr.

Gill's time, he had carried that important personage, he had contracted the habit of stopping at every cabin by the way, giving to each halt the amount of time he believed the colloquy should have occupied, and then, without any admonition, resuming his journey. In fact, as an index to the refractory tenants on the estate, his mode of progression, with its interruptions, might have been employed, and the st.u.r.dy fashion in which he would 'draw up' at certain doors might be taken as the forerunner of an ejectment.

The blessed change by which the county saw the beast now driven by a beautiful young lady, instead of bestrode by an inimical bailiff, added to a popularity which Ireland in her poorest and darkest hour always accords to beauty; and they, indeed, who trace points of resemblance between two distant peoples, have not failed to remark that the Irish, like the Italians, invariably refer all female loveliness to that type of surpa.s.sing excellence, the Madonna.

Nina had too much of the South in her blood not to like the heartfelt, outspoken admiration which greeted her as she went; and the 'G.o.d bless you--but you are a lovely crayture!' delighted, while it amused her in the way the qualification was expressed.

It was soon after sunrise on this Friday morning that she drove down the approach, and made her way across the bog towards Cruhan. Though pretending to her uncle to be only eager to finish her sketch of Croghan Castle, her journey was really prompted by very different considerations. By d.i.c.k's telegram she learned that Walpole was to arrive that day at Kilgobbin, and as his stay could not be prolonged beyond the evening, she secretly determined she would absent herself so much as she could from home--only returning to a late dinner--and thus show her distinguished friend how cheaply she held the occasion of his visit, and what value she attached to the pleasure of seeing him at the castle.

She knew Walpole thoroughly--she understood the working of such a nature to perfection, and she could calculate to a nicety the mortification, and even anger, such a man would experience at being thus slighted. 'These men,'

thought she, 'only feel for what is done to them before the world: it is the insult that is pa.s.sed upon them in public, the _soufflet_ that is given in the street, that alone can wound them to the quick.' A woman may grow tired of their attentions, become capricious and change, she may be piqued by jealousy, or, what is worse, by indifference; but, while she makes no open manifestation of these, they can be borne: the really insupportable thing is, that a woman should be able to exhibit a man as a creature that had no possible concern or interest for her--one might come or go, or stay on, utterly unregarded or uncared for. To have played this game during the long hours of a long day was a burden she did not fancy to encounter, whereas to fill the part for the short s.p.a.ce of a dinner, and an hour or so in the drawing-room, she looked forward to rather as an exciting amus.e.m.e.nt.

'He has had a day to throw away,' said she to herself, 'and he will give it to the Greek girl. I almost hear him as he says it. How one learns to know these men in every nook and crevice of their natures, and how by never relaxing a hold on the one clue of their vanity, one can trace every emotion of their lives.'

In her old life of Rome these small jealousies, these petty pa.s.sions of spite, defiance, and wounded sensibility, filled a considerable s.p.a.ce of her existence. Her position in society, dependent as she was, exposed her to small mortifications: the cold semi-contemptuous notice of women who saw she was prettier than themselves, and the half-swaggering carelessness of the men, who felt that a bit of flirtation with the t.i.tian Girl was as irresponsible a thing as might be.

'But here,' thought she, 'I am the niece of a man of recognised station; I am treated in his family with a more than ordinary deference and respect--his very daughter would cede the place of honour to me, and my will is never questioned. It is time to teach this pretentious fine gentleman that our positions are not what they once were. If I were a man, I should never cease till I had fastened a quarrel on him; and being a woman, I could give my love to the man who would avenge me. Avenge me of what? a mere slight, a mood of impertinent forgetfulness--nothing more--as if anything could be more to a woman's heart! A downright wrong can be forgiven, an absolute injury pardoned--one is raised to self-esteem by such an act of forgiveness; but there is no elevation in submitting patiently to a slight. It is simply the confession that the liberty taken with you was justifiable--was even natural.'

These were the sum of her thoughts as she went, ever recurring to the point how Walpole would feel offended by her absence, and how such a mark of her indifference would pique his vanity, even to insult.

Then she pictured to her mind how this fine gentleman would feel the boredom of that dreary day. True, it would be but a day; but these men were not tolerant of the people who made time pa.s.s heavily with them, and they revenged their own ennui on all around them. How he would snub the old man for the son's pretensions, and sneer at the young man for his disproportioned ambition; and last of all, how he would mystify poor Kate, till she never knew whether he cared to fatten calves and turkeys, or was simply drawing her on to little details, which he was to dramatise one day in an after-dinner story.

She thought of the closed pianoforte, and her music on the top--the songs he loved best; she had actually left Mendelssohn there to be seen--a very bait to awaken his pa.s.sion. She thought she actually saw the fretful impatience with which he threw the music aside and walked to the window to hide his anger.

'This excursion of Mademoiselle Nina was then a sudden thought, you tell me; only planned last night? And is the country considered safe enough for a young lady to go off in this fashion. Is it secure--is it decent? I know he will ask, "Is it decent?" Kate will not feel--she will not see the impertinence with which he will a.s.sure her that she herself may be privileged to do these things; that her "Irishry" was itself a safeguard, but d.i.c.k will notice the sneer. Oh, if he would but resent it! How little hope there is of that. These young Irishmen get so overlaid by the English in early life, they never resist their dominance: they accept everything in a sort of natural submission. I wonder does the rebel sentiment make them any bolder?' And then she bethought her of some of those national songs Mr.

Daniel had been teaching her, and which seemed to have such an overwhelming influence over his pa.s.sionate nature. She had even seen the tears in his eyes, and twice he could not speak to her with emotion. What a triumph it would have been to have made the high-bred Mr. Walpole feel in this wise.

Possibly at the moment, the vulgar Fenian seemed the finer fellow. Scarcely had the thought struck her, than there, about fifty yards in advance, and walking at a tremendous pace, was the very man himself.

'Is not that Mr. Daniel, Larry?' asked she quickly.

But Larry had already struck off on a short cut across the bog, and was miles away.

Yes, it could be none other than Mr. Daniel. The coat thrown back, the loose-stepping stride, and the occasional flourish of the stick as he went, all proclaimed the man. The noise of the wheels on the hard road made him turn his head; and now, seeing who it was, he stood uncovered till she drove up beside him.

'Who would have thought to see you here at this hour?' said he, saluting her with deep respect.

'No one is more surprised at it than myself,' said she, laughing; 'but I have a partly-done sketch of an old castle, and I thought in this fine autumn weather I should like to throw in the colour. And besides, there are now and then with me unsocial moments when I fancy I like to be alone. Do you know what these are?'

'Do I know?--too well.'

'These motives then, not to think of others, led me to plan this excursion; and now will you be as candid, and say what is _your_ project?'

'I am bound for a little village called Cruhan: a very poor, unenticing spot; but I want to see the people there, and hear what they say of these rumours of new laws about the land.'

'And can _they_ tell you anything that would be likely to interest _you_?'

'Yes, their very mistakes would convey their hopes; and hopes have come to mean a great deal in Ireland.'

'Our roads are then the same. I am on my way to Croghan Castle.'

'Croghan is but a mile from my village of Cruhan,' said he.

'I am aware of that, and it was in your village of Cruhan, as you call it, I meant to stable my pony till I had finished my sketch; but my gentle page, Larry, I see, has deserted me; I don't know if I shall find him again.'

'Will you let me be your groom? I shall be at the village almost as soon as yourself, and I'll look after your pony.'

'Do you think you could manage to seat yourself on that shelf at the back?'

'It is a great temptation you offer me, if I were not ashamed to be a burden.'

'Not to me, certainly; and as for the pony, I scarcely think he'll mind it.'

'At all events, I shall walk the hills.'

'I believe there are none. If I remember aright, it is all through a level bog.'

'You were at tea last night when a certain telegram came?'

'To be sure I was. I was there, too, when one came for you, and saw you leave the room immediately after.'

'In evident confusion?' added he, smiling.

'Yes, I should say, in evident confusion. At least, you looked like one who had got some very unexpected tidings.'

'So it was. There is the message.' And he drew from his pocket a slip of paper, with the words,' Walpole is coming for a day. Take care to be out of the way till he is gone.'

'Which means that he is no friend of yours.'

'He is neither friend nor enemy. I never saw him; but he is the private secretary, and, I believe, the nephew of the Viceroy, and would find it very strange company to be domiciled with a rebel.'

'And you are a rebel?'

'At your service, Mademoiselle Kostalergi.'

'And a Fenian, and head-centre?'

'A Fenian and a head-centre.'

'And probably ought to be in prison?'

'I have been already, and as far as the sentence of English law goes, should be still there.'

'How delighted I am to know that. I mean, what a thrilling sensation it is to be driving along with a man so dangerous, that the whole country would be up and in pursuit of him at a mere word.'