Sir Jasper Carew Part 14

My father made no reply, and looked anything but pleased at the ready concurrence in his plan.

"We shall never understand them, nor they us," said he, peevishly, after a pause.

MacNaghten nodded an affirmative.

"The Duke, of course, then, remains here?" said Dan, after a pause.

"Of course he does not," replied my father, pettishly; "he has announced to me the urgent necessity of his return to Dublin, nor do I see that anything has since occurred to alter that contingency."

The tone in which he had spoken these words showed not only how he felt the taunt implied in Dan's remark, but how sincerely to his own conscience he acknowledged its justice. There was no doubt of it! My father's patriotism, that withstood all the blandishments of "Castle"

flattery, all the seductions of power, and all the bright visions of ambition, had given way under the impulse of a wounded self-love. That men so inferior to him should dictate and control his actions, presume to influence his whole conduct, and even exercise rule in his household, gave him deep offence, coming as it did at a moment when his spirit was chafed by disappointment; and thus, he that could neither have been bribed nor bought was entrapped by a trick and an accident.

Every one knows that there are little social panics as there are national ones,--terrors for which none can account, leading to actions for which none can give the reason; so here, all of a sudden, all the guests discovered that they had reached the limit of their stay: some had to hasten home to receive visitors, others were engaged elsewhere; there were innumerable calls of duty, and affection, and business, all uttered with the accustomed sincerity, and listened to by my father with a cold acquiescence which a.s.suredly gave no fresh obstacles to the departures.

As for my mother, her graciousness at the leave-takings only served to increase the displeasure her former indifference had created. It seemed as if her courtesy sprung out of the pleasure of being free from her guests; and as she uttered some little polite phrase in her broken language to each, the recipients looked anything but flattered at the alteration of her manner. The Viceroy alone seemed to accept these civilities literally; he vowed that he had never enjoyed three days more in his life; that Castle Carew and its hospitalities would hold the very first place in his future recollections of Ireland: these and such like, uttered with the very best of manners, and with all the influence which rank could bestow, actually delighted my mother, who was not slow to contrast the high-bred tone of the great personage with the less flattering deportment of her other guests.

It would not be a very pleasing task were we to play the eavesdropper, and, following the various carriages of the departing company, hear the comments now so freely bestowed on the host of Castle Carew. It is true some were kind-hearted enough to see all the difficulties of my father's position in the true light, and to hope that by time and a little management these might be overcome.

There were others less generous; but what they said it would be scarcely more graceful of me to repeat; enough that my mother was the especial mark of the strictures,--the censure of my father went no further than compa.s.sion! And oh, dear! when the world condescends to compa.s.sion, what execration is equal to it! How beautifully it draws up the full indictment of your failings, that it may extend its clemency to each!

How carefully does it discriminate between your depravity and your weakness, that it may not wrong you! But how cutting is the hopefulness it expresses for your future, by suggesting some utterly impossible road for your reformation!

And now they were all gone,--all except Polly f.a.gan and MacNaghten; but Dan, indeed, was part of the household, and came and went as he liked.

f.a.gan had sent his carriage to Bray to meet his daughter, as had been agreed upon; but a letter from Polly came to say that Madame Carew had pressed her with so much kindness to remain, and that she herself was so happy, that she sincerely hoped the permission might be accorded her.

The note concluded by stating that Mr. Carew would visit Dublin by the end of the week, and take that opportunity of leaving her at home.

"Oh, que nous sommes bien, ainsi!" exclaimed my mother, as the little party of four sat down to dinner; and all seemed to applaud the sentiment but my father, who seemed far more thoughtful and grave than his wont. Even this, however, threw no gloom over the rest, who were in the very happiest and best of humors. My mother was in all the ecstasy of her now joyous nature, suddenly emanc.i.p.ated from the toilsome drudgery of a duty she disliked. Polly, flattered by the tone of perfect equality extended to her, and by the unequivocal preference of my mother for her, hourly developed more and more of those graces which only needed opportunity for their growth, and displayed charms of manner and resources of mind that actually delighted her companions; while in MacNaghten's happy nature and gay-heartedness there was the only other element wanting to make the party a most pleasant one.

The arrival of the letter-bag--that little moment which in every country household forms the privileged interruption to every care and every amus.e.m.e.nt--broke suddenly in upon their carouse; and as my father unlocked the precious sack, each looked eagerly for his share of the contents.

"All for myself, I see," muttered he; "nothing but 'Walter Carew' here.

Your creditors are forgetting you, Dan,--not even a note of reminder or remonstrance. Silence, of course, means consent, Miss Polly: your father says nothing against your stay. But what is this, Josephine? This looks as if meant for you; but it has been sent over half the post-offices of the kingdom, with 'Try Compton Ba.s.set, Caresfort, and Chirck Castle,' I believe this is; there's no making out the address."

"Plain enough, I think," cried MacNaghten; "it is, 'Madame la Comtesse de Carew, a son Chateau, ou en Ville, Irlande.'"

"At all events, it is for me," said my mother, breaking the seal with impatience. Scarcely had she opened the letter when she exclaimed, "Oh, la bonne chance,--only think, Walter, here is Emile de Gabriac coming to Ireland!"

"You forget, dearest, that I have never seen him," said my father, dryly.

"Does that signify?" said she, with enthusiastic rapidity. "Is he not known over all Europe by reputation? That dear Emile, so good, so generous, so handsome, so full of accomplishments,--rides so perfectly, sings so beautifully. Ah, ma chere, c'est fait de vous," said she to Polly, "when you see him."

Polly only smiled and bowed, with an arch look of submission, while my father broke in,--

"But how comes it that so much brilliancy should waste itself on the unprofitable atmosphere of Ireland? What is bringing him here?"

My mother continued to read on, heedless of the question, not, however, without showing by her countenance the various emotions which the letter excited; for while, at times, her color came and went, and her eyes filled with tears, a smile would pa.s.s suddenly across her features, and at last a merry burst of laughter stopped her. "Shall I read it for you?"

cried she, "for it will save me a world of explanations. This is dated from our dear old country-house on the Loire, Chateau de Lesieux:--

"'April 20th.

"'Ma chere et ma belle Fifine,"--he always called me Fifine when we were children. ["Humph!" muttered my father, "read on!" and she resumed:] 'Ma belle Fifine,--

"'How the dear name recalls happy hours, gay, buoyant, and brilliant with all that could make life a paradise! when we were both so much in love with all the world, and, consequently, with each other!' Ah, oui,"

exclaimed she, in a tone so perfectly simple as to make MacNaghten burst out into a laugh, which Polly with difficulty refrained from joining.-- "'You,'" continued she, reading, "'you, ma belle, have doubtless grown wiser; but I remain the same dreamy, devoted thing you once knew me.

Well, perhaps we may soon have an opportunity to talk over all this; and so now no more of it. You may perhaps have heard--I cannot guess what news may or may not reach you in your far-away solitudes--that the Cour de Ca.s.sation has decided against me, and that, consequently, they have not only rejected my claim, but have actually questioned my right to the domain of Cha.s.se Loups and the famous jewels which my grandfather received from Isabella of Spain.

"'They say--I 'm not going to worry you with details, but they say something to this effect--that as we were engaged with Law in that great scheme of his,--the Mississippi affair they called it,--we stand responsible, in all that we possess, to the creditors or the heirs, as if we ourselves were not the greatest losers by that charlatan of the Rue Quincampoix! Perhaps you never heard of that notorious business, nor knew of a time when all Paris went mad together, and bartered everything of price and value for the worthless scrip of a mountebank's invention.

How sorry I am, dearest Fifine, to tease you with all this, but I cannot help it. They have found--that is, the lawyers--that there are two parties in existence whose claims extend to our poor old chateau by some private arrangement contracted between my grandfather and the then Duc d'Orleans. One of these is Louis's own son, now living at Venice; the other--you'll scarcely believe me--yourself! Yes, my dear cousin, you possess a part right over Cha.s.se Loups. There was a day when you might have had the whole I--not my fault that it was not so!'"

"Is this a lover's letter, or a lawyer's, Josephine?" said my father, dryly.

"Ah, you cannot understand Emile," said she, artlessly; "he is so unlike the rest of the world, poor fellow! But I 'll read on.

"'It all comes to this, Fifine: you must give me a release, so they call it, and Louis, if I can find him out, must do something of the same kind; for I am going to be married'--[she paused for a few seconds, and then read on] 'to be married to Mademoiselle de Nipernois, sister of Charles de Nipernois. When you went, remember, as a page to the Queen, you never saw ma belle Hortense, for she was educated at Bruges. Alas, oui! so is my episode to end also! Meanwhile I 'm coming to see you, to obtain your signature to these tiresome papers, and to be, for a while at least, out of the way, since I have been unlucky enough to wound Auguste Vallaume seriously, I 'm afraid,--all his own fault, however, as I will tell you at another time. Now, can you receive me,--I mean is it convenient? Will it be in any way unpleasant? Does le bon mari like or dislike us French? Will he be jealous of our cousinage?'"

"On the score of frankness, Josephine, you may tell him I have nothing to complain of," broke in my father, dryly.

"Is it not so?" rejoined my mother. "Emile is candor itself." She read: "'At all hazards, I shall try, Fifine. If he does not like me, he must banish me. The difficulty will be to know where; for I have debts on all sides, and nothing but marriage will set me right. Droll enough, that one kind of slavery is to be the refuge for another. Some of your husband's old a.s.sociates here tell me he is charming,--that he was the delight of all the society at one time. Tell me all about him. I can so readily like anything that belongs to you, I 'm prepared already to esteem him.'"

"Most flattering," murmured my father.

"'It will be too late, dear cousin, to refuse me; for when this reaches you, I shall be already on the way to your mountains.--Are they mountains, by the way?--So then make up your mind to my visit, with the best grace you can. I should fill this letter with news of all our friends and acquaintances here, but that I rely upon these very narratives to amuse you when we meet,--not that there is anything very strange or interesting to recount. People marry, and quarrel, and make love, fight, go in debt, and die, in our enlightened age, without the slightest advancement on the wisdom of our ancestors; and except that we think very highly of ourselves, and very meanly of all others, I do not see that we have made any considerable progress in our knowledge.

"'I am all eagerness to see you once again. Are you altered?--I hope and trust not. Neither fatter nor thinner, nor paler, nor more carnation, than I knew you; not graver, I could swear. No, ma chere cousine, yours was ever a nature to extract brightness from what had been gloom to others. What a happy inspiration was it of that good Monsieur Carew to relieve the darkness of his native climate by such brilliancy!

"'Still, how many sacrifices must this banishment have cost you! Do not deny it, Fifine. If you be not very much in love, this desolation must be a heavy infliction. I have just been looking at the map, and the whole island has an air of indescribable solitude and remoteness, and much further distant from realms of civilization than I fancied.

You must be my guide, Fifine; I will accept of no other to all those wonderful sea-caves and coral grottoes which I hear so much of! What excursions am I already planning! what delicious hours, floating over the blue sea, beneath those gigantic cliffs that even in a woodcut look stupendous! And so you live almost entirely upon fish! I must teach your chef some Breton devices in cookery. My old tutor, who was a cure at Scamosse, taught me to dress soles "en gratin," with two simple herbs to be found everywhere; so that, like Vincent de Paul, I shall be extending the blessings of cultivation in the realms of barbarism. I picture you strolling along the yellow beach, or standing storm-lashed on some lone rock, with your favorite pet seal at your feet.'"

"Is the gentleman an idiot, or is he only ignorant?" broke in my father.

My mother gave a glance of half-angry astonishment, and resumed: "'A thousand pardons, ma chere et bonne; but, with my habitual carelessness, I have been looking at Iceland, and not Ireland, on the map. You will laugh, I'm certain; but confess how natural was the mistake, how similar the names, how like are they, perhaps, in other respects. At all events, I cannot alter what I have written; it shall go, if only to let you have one more laugh at that silly Emile, whose blunders have so often amused you. Pray do not tell your "dear husband" of my mistake, lest his offended nationality should take umbrage; and I am resolved--yes, Fifine, I am determined on his liking me.'"

My father's face a.s.sumed an expression here that was far too much for MacNaghten's gravity; but my mother read on, unconcerned: "'And now I have but to say when I shall be with you. It may be about the 12th--not later than the 20th--of next month. I shall take no one but Francois with me; I shall not even bring the dogs, only Joca.s.se, my monkey,--for whom, by the way, I beg to bespeak a quiet room, with a south aspect.

I hope the climate will not injure him; but Dr. Reynault has given me numerous directions about his clothing, and a receipt for a white wine posset that he a.s.sures me will be very bracing to his nervous system.

You have no idea how susceptible he has grown latterly about noise and tumult. The canaille have taken to parade the streets, singing and shouting their odious songs, and Joca.s.se has suffered much from the disturbance. I mentioned the fact to M. Mirabeau, whom I met at your aunt's the other night, and he remarked gravely, "It's a bad time for monkeys just now,--'singerie' has had its day." The expression struck me as a very hollow, if not a very heartless,' one; but I may say, en pa.s.sant, that this same M. Mirabeau, whom it is the fashion to think clever and agreeable, is only abrupt and rude, with courage to say the coa.r.s.e things that good-breeding retreats from! I am glad to find how thoroughly the Court dislikes him. They say that he has had the effrontery to tell the King the most disagreeable stories about popular discontent, distress, and so forth. I need scarcely say that he met the dignified rebuke such underbred observations merited.

"'And now, Fifine, to say adieu until it be my happiness once again to embrace you and that dear Carew, who must have more good qualities than I have known centred in one individual, to deserve you. Think of me, dearest cousin, and do not forget Joca.s.se.'"

"The a.s.sociation will aid you much," said my father, dryly.

"'Let him have a cheerful room, and put me anywhere, so that I have a place in your heart. Your dearly attached cousin,

"'Emile de Gabriac.'"

"Is that all?" asked my father, as she concluded.

"A few words on the turn-down: 'Hortense has just sent me her picture.

She is blond, but her eyes want color; the hair, too, is sandy, and not silky; the mouth--But why do I go on?--it is not Fifine's.'"