Roland Cashel Volume I Part 67

"You are a little late, doctor," said she, as she led the way into the breakfast-room.

"That was in part owing to that rogue Keane, who has taken to locking the gate of the avenue, by way of seeming regular, and some one else has done the same with the wicket here. Now, as for fifty years back all the cows of the country have strayed through the one, and all the beggars through the other, I don't know what 's to come of it."

"I suppose the great house is filling?" said Mary, to withdraw him from a grumbling theme; "we heard the noise of several arrivals this morning early."

"This gentleman can inform you best upon all that," said Tiernay; "he himself is one of the company."

"But I am ignorant of everything," said Cashel; "I only arrived here a little after daybreak, and, not caring to sleep, I strolled out, when my good fortune threw me into your way."

"Your friends are likely to have fine weather, and I am glad of it,"

said Corrigan. "This country, pretty enough in sunshine, looks bleak and dreary when the sky is lowering; but I 've no doubt _you'd_ rather have

'A southerly wind and a cloudy sky,'

as the song says, than the brightest morning that ever welcomed a lark.

Are you fond of hunting?"

"I like every kind of sport where horse, or gun, or hound can enter; but I 've seen most of such pastimes in distant countries, where the game is different from here, and the character of the people just as unlike."

"'I have hunted the wild boar myself," said old Corrigan, proudly, "in the royal forests at Meudon and Fontainebleau."

"I speak of the antelope and the jaguar, the dark leopard of Guiana, or the brown bison of the Andes."

"That is indeed a manly pastime!" said Mary, enthusiastically.

"It is so," said Cashel, warmed by the encouragement of her remark, "more even for the endurance and persevering energy it demands than for its peril. The long days of toil in search of game, the nights of waking watchfulness, and then the strange characters and adventures among which you are thrown, all make up a kind of life so unlike the daily world."

"There is, as you say, something highly exciting in all that," said Corrigan; "but, to my thinking, hunting is a royal pastime, and loses half of its prestige when deprived of the pomp and circ.u.mstance of its courtly following. When I think of the old forest echoing to the tantarara of the _cor de cha.s.se_, the scarlet-clad _piqueurs_ with lance and cutla.s.s, the train of courtiers mounted on their high-mettled steeds, displaying all the address of the _salon_, and all the skill of the chase, to him who was the centre of the group,--the king himself--"

"Are you not forgetting the fairest part of the pageants papa?" broke in Mary.

"No, my dear, that group usually waited to join us as we returned. Then, when the '_Retour de la Cha.s.se_' rang out from every horn, and the whole wood re-echoed with the triumphant sounds, then might be seen the queen and her ladies advancing to meet us. I think I see her yet, the fair-haired queen, the n.o.blest and most beautiful in all that lovely circle, mounted on her spotted Arabian, who bore himself proudly beneath his precious burden. Ah! too truly did Burke say, 'the Age of Chivalry was past,' or never had such sorrows gone unavenged. Young gentleman, I know not whether you have already conceived strong opinions upon politics, and whether you incline to one or other of the great parties that divide the kingdom, but one thing I would beseech you,--be a Monarchist. There is a steadfast perseverance in clinging to the legitimate Sovereign. Like the very observance of truth itself, shake the conviction once, and there is no limit to scepticism."

"Humph!" muttered Tiernay, half aloud. "Considering how royalty treated your ancestors, your ardor in their favor might be cooled a little."

"What's Tiernay saying?" said the old man.

"Grumbling, as usual, papa," said Mary, laughing, and not willing to repeat the remark.

"Trying to give a man a bias in politics," said the doctor, sarcastically, "is absurd, except you accompany the advice with a place.

A man's political opinions are born with him, and he has as much to do with the choice of his own Christian name as whether he 'll be a Whig or a Tory."

"Never mind him, sir," said Corrigan to Cashel; "one might travesty the well-known epigram, and say of him that he never said a kind thing, nor did a rude one, in his life."

"The greater fool he, then," mattered Tiernay, "for the world likes him best who does the exact opposite; and here comes one to ill.u.s.trate my theory. There, I see him yonder; so I 'll step into the library and look over the newspaper."

"He cannot endure a very agreeable neighbor of ours,--a Mr. Linton,"

said Corrigan, as the doctor retired,--"and makes so little secret of his dislike that I am always glad when they avoid a meeting."

"Mr. Linton is certainly more generous," said Mary, "for he enjoys the doctor's eccentricity without taking offence at his rude humor."

"Good-breeding can be almost a virtue," said the old man, with a smile.

"It has this disadvantage, however," said Cashel: "it deceives men who, like myself, have little knowledge of life, to expect far more from politeness than it is ever meant to imply,--just as on the Lima sh.o.r.e, when we carried off a gold Madonna, we were never satisfied if we missed the diamond eyes of the image."

The old man and his granddaughter almost started at the strange ill.u.s.tration; but their attention was now called off by the approach of Linton, whom they met as he reached the porch.

"Come here a moment, sir," said the doctor, addressing Cashel, from the little boudoir; "here are some weapons of very old date found among the ruins beside where we stand." And Roland had just time to quit the breakfast-room before Linton entered it.

"The menagerie fills fast," said Linton, as he advanced gayly into the apartment: "some of our princ.i.p.al lions have come; more are expected; and all the small cages have got their occupants."

"I am dying of curiosity," said Mary. "Tell us everything about everybody. Who have arrived?"

"We have everything of a household save the host. He is absent; and, stranger than all, no one knows where."

"How singular!" exclaimed Corrigan.

"Is it not? He arrived this morning with the Kilgoffs, and has not since been heard of. I left his amiable guests at the breakfast-table conversing on his absence, and endeavoring to account for it under every variety of 'shocking accident' one reads of in the morning papers. The more delicately minded were even discussing, in whispers, how long it would be decent to stay in a house if the owner committed suicide."

"This is too shocking," said Mary.

"And yet there are men who do these things! Talleyrand it was, I believe, who said that the fellow who shot himself showed a great want of _savoir vivre_. Well, to come back: we have the Kilgoffs, whom I have not seen as yet; the Meeks, father and daughter; the MacFarlines; Mrs.

White and her familiar, a distinguished author; the whole Kennyf.e.c.k tribe; Frobisher; some five or six cavalry subalterns; and a large mob of strange-looking people, of both s.e.xes, making up what in racing slang is called the 'ruck' of the party."

"Will it not tax your ingenuity, Mr. Linton, to amuse, or even to preserve concord among such a heterogeneous mult.i.tude?" said Mary.

"I shall amuse them by keeping them at feud with each other, and, when they weary of that, let them have a grand attack of the whole line upon their worthy host and entertainer. Indeed, already signs of rebellious ingrat.i.tude have displayed themselves. You must know that there has been a kind of petty scandal going about respecting Lady Kilgoff and Mr.

Cashel."

"My dear sir," said Mr. Corrigan, gravely, but with much courtesy, "when my granddaughter asked you for the latest news of your gay household, she did so in all the inconsiderate ignorance her habits and age may warrant; but neither she nor I cared to hear more of your guests than they ought to have reported of them, or should be repeated to the ears of a young lady."

"I accept the rebuke with less pain," said Linton, smiling easily, "because it is, in part at least, unmerited. If you had permitted me to continue, you should have seen as much." Then, turning to Miss Leicester, he added: "You spoke of amus.e.m.e.nt, and you 'll acknowledge we are not idle. Lord Charles Frobisher is already marking out a race-course; Meek is exploring the political leaning of the borough; the Kennyf.e.c.ks are trying their voices together in every room of the house; and Lady Janet has every _ca.s.serole_ in the kitchen engaged in the preparation of various vegetable abominations which she and Sir Andrew take before breakfast; and what with the taking down and putting up of beds, the tuning of pianofortes, sol-fa-ing here, bells ringing there, cracking of tandem whips, firing off percussion-caps, screaming to grooms out of window, and slamming of doors, Babel was a scene of peaceful retirement in comparison. As this, too, is but the beginning, pray forgive me if my visits here be more frequent and enduring than ever."

"Your picture of the company is certainly not flattering," said Mary.

"Up to their merits, notwithstanding; but how could it be otherwise? To make a house pleasant, to bring agreeable people together,--to a.s.semble those particles whose aggregate solidifies into that compact ma.s.s called society,--is far harder than is generally believed; vulgar folk attempt it by getting some celebrity to visit them. But what a failure that is! One lion will no more make a party than one swallow a summer. New people, like our friend Cashel, try it by asking everybody. They hope, by firing a heavy charge, that some of the shot will hit. Another mistake! He little knows how many jealousies, rivalries, and small animosities are now at breakfast together at his house, and how ready they are, when no other game offers, to make him the object of all their apite and scandal."

"But why?" said Mary. "Is not his hospitality as princely as it is generously offered? Can they cavil with anything in either the reception itself or the manner of it?"

"As that part of the entertainment entered into _my_ functions, Miss Leicester, I should say, certainly not. The whole has been well 'got up.' I can answer for everything save Cashel himself; as Curran said, 'I can elevate all save the host.' He is irreclaimably _en arriere_,--half dandy, half Delaware, affecting the man of fashion, but, at heart, a prairie hunter."

"Hold, sir!" cried Cashel, entering suddenly, his face crimson with pa.s.sion. "By what right do you presume to speak of me in this wise?"

"Ha! ha! ha!" broke out Linton, as he fell into a chair in a burst of admirably feigned laughter. "I told you, Miss Leicester, how it would be; did I not say I should unearth the fox? Ah! Roland, confess it; you were completely taken in."

Cashel stared around for an explanation, and in the astonishment of each countenance he fancied he read a condemnation of his conduct All his impulses were quick as thought, and so he blushed deeply for his pa.s.sionate outbreak, as he said,--

"I ask pardon of you, sir, and this lady for my unseemly anger.

This gentleman certainly deserves no apology from me. Confound it, Master Tom, but a.s.suredly you don't fire blank cartridge to startle your game."