Lord Kilgobbin Part 74

'In a convent or a monastery, they say. She has turned abbess or monk; but, upon my conscience, from the little I've seen of her, if a strong will and a plucky heart be the qualifications, she might be the Pope!'

'And are the young man's injuries serious? Is he badly hurt? for they would not let me see him at the gaol.'

'Serious, I believe they are. He is cut cruelly about the face and head, and his body bruised all over. The finest peasantry have a taste for kicking with strong brogues on them, Mr. Kearney, that cannot be equalled.'

'I wish with all my heart they'd kick the English out of Ireland!' cried Kearney, with a savage energy.

''Faith! if they go on governing us in the present fashion, I do not say I'll make any great objection. Eh, Adams?'

'Maybe so!' was the slow and very guttural reply, as the fat man crossed his hands on his waistcoat.

'I'm sick of them all, Whigs and Tories,' said Kearney.

Is not every Irish gentleman sick of them, Mr. Kearney? Ain't you sick of being cheated and cajoled, and ain't _we_ sick of being cheated and insulted? They seek to conciliate _you_ by outraging _us_. Don't you think we could settle our own differences better amongst ourselves? It was Philpot Curran said of the fleas in Manchester, that if they'd all pulled together, they'd have pulled him out of bed. Now, Mr. Kearney, what if we all took to "pulling together?"'

'We cannot get rid of the notion that we'd be out-jockeyed,' said Kearney slowly.

'We _know_,' cried the other, 'that we should be out-numbered, and that is worse. Eh, Adams?'

'Ay!' sighed Adams, who did not desire to be appealed to by either side.

'Now we're alone here, and no eavesdropper near us, tell me fairly, Kearney, are you better because we are brought down in the world? Are you richer--are you greater--are you happier?'

'I believe we are, Mr. Flood, and I'll tell you why I say so.'

I'll be shot if I hear you, that's all. Fill your gla.s.s. That's old port that John Beresford tasted in the Custom-House Docks seventy-odd years ago, and you are the only Whig living that ever drank a drop of it!'

'I am proud to be the first exception, and I go so far as to believe--I shall not be the last!'

'I'll send a few bottles over to that boy in the infirmary. It cannot but be good for him,' said Flood.

'Take care, for Heaven's sake, if he be threatened with inflammation. Do nothing without the doctor's leave.'

'I wonder why the people who are so afraid of inflammation, are so fond of rebellion,' said he sarcastically.

'Perhaps I could tell you that, too--'

'No, do not--do not, I beseech you; reading the Whig Ministers' speeches has given me such a disgust to all explanations, I'd rather concede anything than hear how it could be defended! Apparently Mr. Disraeli is of my mind also, for he won't support Paul Hartigan's motion.'

'What was Hartigan's motion?'

'For the papers, or the correspondence, or whatever they called it, that pa.s.sed between Danesbury and Dan Donogan.'

'But there was none.'

'Is that all you know of it? They were as thick as two thieves. It was "Dear Dane" and "Dear Dan" between them. "Stop the shooting. We want a light calendar at the summer a.s.sizes," says one. "You shall have forty thousand pounds yearly for a Catholic college, if the House will let us."

"Thank you for nothing for the Catholic college," says Dan. "We want our own Parliament and our own militia; free pardon for political offences."

What would you say to a bill to make landlord-shooting manslaughter, Mr.

Kearney?'

'Justifiable homicide, Mr. Bright called it years ago, but the judges didn't see it.'

'This Danesbury "muddle," for that is the name they give it, will be hushed up, for he has got some Tory connections, and the lords are never hard on one of their "order," so I hear. Hartigan is to be let have his talk out in the House, and as he is said to be violent and indiscreet, the Prime Minister will only reply to the violence and the indiscretion, and he will conclude by saying that the n.o.ble Viceroy has begged Her Majesty to release him of the charge of the Irish Government; and though the Cabinet have urgently entreated him to remain and carry out the wise policy of conciliation so happily begun in Ireland, he is rooted in his resolve, and he will not stay; and there will be cheers; and when he adds that Mr. Cecil Walpole, having shown his great talents for intrigue, will be sent back to the fitting sphere--his old profession of diplomacy--there will be laughter; for as the Minister seldom jokes, the House will imagine this to be a slip, and then, with every one in good humour--but Paul Hartigan, who will have to withdraw his motion--the right honourable gentleman will sit down, well pleased at his afternoon's work.'

Kearney could not but laugh at the sketch of a debate given with all the mimicry of tone and mock solemnity of an old debater, and the two men now became, by the bond of their geniality, like old acquaintances.

'Ah, Mr. Kearney, I won't say we'd do it better on College Green, but we'd do it more kindly, more courteously, and, above all, we'd be less hypocritical in our inquiries. I believe we try to cheat the devil in Ireland just as much as our neighbours. But we don't pretend that we are arch-bishops all the time we're doing it. There's where we differ from the English.'

'And who is to govern us,' cried Kearney,' if we have no Lord-Lieutenant?'

'The Privy Council, the Lords Justices, or maybe the Board of Works, who knows? When you are going over to Holyhead in the packet, do you ever ask if the man at the wheel is decent, or a born idiot, and liable to fits? Not a bit of it. You know that there are other people to look to this, and you trust, besides, that they'll land you all safe.'

'That's true,' said Kearney, and he drained his gla.s.s; 'and now tell me one thing more. How will it go with young O'Shea about this scrimmage, will it be serious?'

'Curtis, the chief constable, says it will be an ugly affair enough.

They'll swear hard, and they'll try to make out a t.i.tle to the land through the action of trespa.s.s; and if, as I hear, the young fellow is a scamp and a bad lot--'

'Neither one nor the other,' broke in Kearney; 'as fine a boy and as thorough a gentleman as there is in Ireland.'

'And a bit of a Fenian, too,' slowly interposed Flood.

'Not that I know; I'm not sure that he follows the distinctions of party here; he is little acquainted with Ireland.'

'Ho, ho! a Yankee sympathiser?'

'Not even that; an Austrian soldier, a young lieutenant of lancers over here for his leave.'

'And why couldn't he shoot, or course, or kiss the girls, or play at football, and not be burning his fingers with the new land-laws? There's plenty of ways to amuse yourself in Ireland, without throwing a man out of window; eh, Adams?'

And Adams bowed his a.s.sent, but did not utter a word.

'You are not going to open more wine?' remonstrated Kearney eagerly.

'It's done. Smell that, Mr. Kearney,' cried Flood, as he held out a fresh-drawn cork at the end of the screw. 'Talk to me of clove-pinks and violets and carnations after that? I don't know whether you have any prayers in your church against being led into temptation.'

'Haven't we!' sighed the other.

'Then all I say is, Heaven help the people at Oporto; they'll have more to answer for even than most men.'

It was nigh dawn when they parted, Kearney muttering to himself as he sauntered back to the inn, 'If port like that is the drink of the Tories, they must be good fellows with all their prejudices.'

'I'll be shot if I don't like that rebel,' said Flood as he went to bed.

CHAPTER LVI

BEFORE THE DOOR