Sir Jasper Carew Part 2

"There he goes,--there he goes!" muttered old French, with a sly wink at the others.

"Ireland wasn't herself without you, my boy," continued MacNaghten.

"We were obliged to put up with Tom Burke's harriers and old French's claret; and the one has no more scent than the other has bouquet."

French's face at this moment elicited such a roar of laughter as drowned the remainder of the speech.

"'T was little time you had either to run with the one or drink the other, Dan," said he; "for you were snug in Kilmainham the whole of the winter."

"_Otium c.u.m dignitate_," said Dan. "I spent my evenings in drawing up a bill for the better recovery of small debts."

"How so, Dan?"

"Lending enough more, to bring the debtor into the superior courts,--trying him for murder instead of manslaughter."

"Faith, you'd do either if you were put to it," said French, who merely heard the words, without understanding the context.

Dan MacNaghten was now included in my father's invitation to Castle Carew; and, after a few other allusions to past events and absent friends, they all took their leave, and my father hastened to join his bride.

"You thought them very noisy, my dear," said my father, in reply to a remark of hers. "They, I have no doubt, were perfectly astonished at their excessive quietness,--an air of decorum only a.s.sumed because they heard you were in the next room."

"They were not afraid of me, I trust," said she, smiling. "Not exactly afraid," said my father, with a very peculiar smile.

CHAPTER III. A FATHER AND DAUGHTER

The celebrated money-lender and bill-discounter of Dublin in the times we speak of, was a certain Mr. f.a.gan, popularly called "The Grinder,"

from certain peculiarities in his dealings with those who stood in need of his aid. He had been, and indeed so had his father before him, a fruit-seller, in a quarter of the city called Mary's Abbey,--a trade which he still affected to carry on, although it was well known that the little transactions of the front shop bore no imaginable proportion to the important events which were conducted in the small and gloomy back-parlor behind it.

It was a period of unbounded extravagance. Few even of the wealthiest lived within their incomes. Many maintained a style and pretension far beyond their fortunes, the first seeds of that crop of ruin whose harvest we are now witnessing. By large advances on mortgage, and great loans at moments of extreme pressure, the Grinder had ama.s.sed an immense fortune, at the same time that he possessed a very considerable influence in many counties, in whose elections he took a deep although secret interest.

If money-getting and money-h.o.a.rding was the great pa.s.sion of his existence, it was in reality so in furtherance of two objects, on which he seemed to have set his whole heart. One of these was the emanc.i.p.ation of the Catholics; the other, the elevation of his only child, a daughter, to rank and station, by means of a high marriage.

On these two themes his every thought was fixed; and however closely the miser's nature had twined itself around his own, all the thirst for gain, all the greed of usury, gave way before these master-pa.s.sions.

So much was he under their guidance that no prospect of advantage ever withdrew him from their prosecution; and he who looked for the Grinder's aid, must at least have appeared to him as likely to contribute towards one or other of these objects.

Strange as it may seem to our modern notions, the political ambition seemed easier of success than the social. With all their moneyed embarra.s.sments, the higher cla.s.ses of Ireland refused to stoop to an alliance with the families of the rich plebeians, and were much more ready to tamper with their conscience on questions of state, than to abate a particle of their pride on a matter of family connection. In this way, Mr. f.a.gan could command many votes in the House from those who would have indignantly refused his invitation to a dinner.

In pursuit of this plan, he had given his daughter the best education that money could command. She had masters in every modern language, and in every fashionable accomplishment. She was naturally clever and quick of apprehension, and possessed considerable advantages in person and deportment. Perhaps an overweening sense of her own importance, in comparison with those about her, imparted a degree of a.s.sumption to her manner, or perhaps this was instilled into her as a suitable lesson for some future position; but so was it, that much of the gracefulness of her youth was impaired by this fault, which gradually settled down into an almost stern and defiant hardiness of deportment,--a quality little likely to be popular in high society.

A false position invariably engenders a false manner, and hers was eminently so. Immeasurably above those with whom she a.s.sociated, she saw a great gulf between her and that set with whose habits and instincts she had been trained to a.s.similate. To condescend to intimacy with her father's guests, was to undo all the teachings of her life; and yet how barren seemed every hope of ascending to anything higher! No young proprietor had attained his majority for some years back, without being canva.s.sed by the Grinder as a possible match for his daughter. He well knew the pecuniary circ.u.mstances of them all. To some he had lent largely; and yet somehow, although his emissaries were active in spreading the intelligence that Bob f.a.gan's daughter would have upwards of three hundred thousand pounds.

It seemed a point of honor amongst this cla.s.s that none should descend to such a union, nor stoop to an alliance with the usurer. If, in the wild orgies of after-dinner in the mad debauchery of the mess-table, some reckless spendthrift would talk of marrying Polly f.a.gan, a burst of mockery and laughter was certain to hail the proposition. In fact, any alternative of doubtful honesty, any stratagem to defeat a creditor, seemed a more honorable course than such a project.

There were kind friends--mayhap amongst them were some disappointed suitors--ready to tell Polly how she was regarded by this set; and this consciousness on her part did not a.s.suredly add to the softness of a manner that each day was rendering her more cold and severe; and, from despising those of her own rank, she now grew to hate that above her.

It so chanced that my father was one of those on whom f.a.gan had long speculated for a son-in-law. There was something in the careless ease of his character that suggested the hope that he might not be very difficult of persuasion; and, as his habits of expense required large and prompt supplies, the Grinder made these advances with a degree of liberality that could not fail to be flattering to a young heir.

On more than one occasion, the money was paid down before the lawyers had completed the doc.u.ments; and this confidence in my father's honor had greatly predisposed him in f.a.gan's favor. The presumptuous idea of an alliance with him would have, of course, routed such impressions, but this never occurred to my father. It is very doubtful that he could have brought himself to believe the thing possible. So secret had been my father's marriage that none, even of his most intimate friends, knew of it till within a short time before he arrived in Ireland. The great outlay at Castle Carew of course attracted its share of gossip, but all seemed to think that these were the preparations for an event not yet decided on. This also was f.a.gan's reading of it; and he watched with anxious intensity every step and detail of that costly expenditure in which his now last hope was centred.

"He must come to me for all this; I alone can be the paymaster here,"

was his constant reflection, as he surveyed plans which required a princely fortune to execute, and which no private income could possibly have supported by a suitable style of living. "A hundred thousand pounds will pay for all," was the consolatory thought with which he solaced himself for this extravagance.

The frequent calls for money, the astounding sums demanded from time to time, did indeed alarm f.a.gan. The golden limit of a hundred thousand had long been pa.s.sed, and yet came no sign of retrenchment; on the contrary, the plans for the completion of the Castle were on a scale of even greater magnificence.

It was to a.s.sure himself as to the truth of these miraculous narratives, to see with his own eyes the splendors of which he had heard so much, that f.a.gan once undertook a journey down to Castle Carew. For reasons the motives of which may be as well guessed as described, he was accompanied by his daughter. Seeming to be engaged on a little tour of the county, they arrived at the village inn at nightfall, and the following morning readily obtained the permission to visit the grounds and the mansion.

Perhaps there is no higher appreciation of landscape beauty than that of him who emerges from the dark and narrow street of some busy city,--from its noise, and smoke, and din,--from its vexatious cares and hara.s.sing duties, and strolls out, of a bright spring morning, through the gra.s.sy fields and leafy lanes of a rural country; there is a repose, a sense of tranquil calm in the scene, so refreshing to those whose habitual rest comes of weariness and exhaustion. No need is there of the painter's eye nor the poet's fancy to enjoy to the utmost that rich combination of sky, and wood, and gla.s.sy lake.

There may be nothing of artistic excellence in the appreciation, but the sense of pleasure, of happiness even, is to the full as great.

It was in such a mood that f.a.gan found himself that morning slowly stealing along a woodland-path, his daughter at his side; halting wherever a chance opening afforded a view of the landscape, they walked leisurely on, each, as it were, respecting the other's silence. Not that their secret thoughts were indeed alike,--far from it! The daughter had marked the tranquil look, the unembarra.s.sed expression of those features so habitually agitated and careworn: she saw the sense of relief even one day, one single day of rest, had brought with it. Why should it not be always thus? thought she. He needs no longer to toil and strive.

His might be a life of quietude and peace. Our fortune is far above our wants, beyond even our wishes. We might at last make friendships, real friendships, amongst those who would look on us as equals and neighbors, not as usurers and oppressors.

While such was pa.s.sing in the daughter's mind, the father's thoughts ran thus: Can she see these old woods, these waving lawns, these battlemented towers, topping the great oaks of centuries, and yet not wish to be their mistress? Does no ambition stir her heart to think, These might be mine? He scanned her features closely, but in her drooping eyelids and pensive look he could read no signs of the spirit he sought for.

"Polly," said he, at length, "this is finer, far finer than I expected; the timber is better grown, the demesne itself more s.p.a.cious. I hardly looked for such a princely place."

"It is very beautiful," said she, pensively.

"A proud thing to be the owner of, Polly,--a proud thing! This is not the home of some wealthy citizen; these trees are like blazons of n.o.bility, girl."

"One might be very happy here, father," said she, in the same low voice.

"The very thought of my own mind, Polly," cried he, eagerly. "The highest in the land could ask for nothing better. The estate has been in his family for four or five generations. The owner of such a place has but to choose what he would become. If he be talented, and with capacity for public life, think of him in Parliament, taking up some great question, a.s.sailing some time-worn abuse,--some remnant of that barbarous code that once enslaved us,--and standing forward as the leader of an Irish party. How gracefully patriotism would sit on one who could call this his own! Not the sham patriotism of your envious plebeian, nor the mock independence of the needy lawyer, but the st.u.r.dy determination to make his country second to none. There 's the Castle itself," cried he, suddenly, as they emerged into an open s.p.a.ce in front of the building; and, amazed at the s.p.a.cious and splendid edifice before them, they both stood several minutes in silent admiration.

"I scarcely thought any Irish gentleman had a fortune to suit this,"

said she, at length.

"You are right, Polly; nor has Carew himself. The debts he will have incurred to build that Castle will hamper his estate, and cripple him and those that are to come after him. Nothing short of a large sum of ready money, enough to clear off every mortgage and inc.u.mbrance at once, could enable this young fellow to save them. Even then, his style should not be the spendthrift waste they say he is fond of. A princely household he might have, n.o.bly maintained, and perfect in all its details, but with good management, girl. You must remember that, Polly."

She started at this direct appeal to herself; and, as her cheeks grew crimson with conscious shame, she turned away to avoid his glance,--not that the precaution was needed, for he was far too much immersed in his own thoughts to observa her. Polly had on more than one occasion seen through the ambitious schemes of her father. She had detected many a deep-laid plot he had devised to secure for her that eminence and station he longed for. Deep and painful were the wounds of her offended pride at the slights, the insults of these defeated plans. Resentments that were to last her lifetime had grown of them, and in her heart a secret grudge towards that cla.s.s from which they sprung. Over and over had she endeavored to summon up courage to tell him that, to her, these schemes were become hateful; that all dignity, all self-respect, were sacrificed in this unworthy struggle. At last came the moment of hardihood; and in a few words, at first broken and indistinct, but more a.s.sured and distinct as she went on, she said that she, at least, could never partake in his ambitious views.

"I have seen you yourself, father, after a meeting with one of these--these high and t.i.tled personages, come home pale, careworn, and ill. The contumely of their manner had so offended you that you sat down to your meal without appet.i.te. You could not speak to me; or, in a few words you dropped, I could read the bitter chagrin that was corroding your heart. You owned to me, that in the very moment of receiving favors from you, they never forgot the wide difference of rank that separated you,--nay more, that they accepted your services as a rightful homage to their high estate, and made you feel a kind of serfdom in your very generosity."

"Why all this? To what end do you tell me these things, girl?" cried he, angrily, while his cheek trembled with pa.s.sion.

"Because if I conceal them longer,--if I do not speak them,--they will break my heart," said she, in an accent of deepest emotion; "because the grief they give me has worn me to very wretchedness. Is it not clear to you, father, that they wish none of us,--that our blood is not their blood, nor our traditions their traditions?"

"Hold--stop--be silent, I say, or you will drive me distracted," said he, grasping her wrist in a paroxysm of rage.

"I will speak out," said she, resolutely. "The courage I now feel may, perhaps, never return to me. There is nothing humiliating in our position, save what we owe to ourselves; there is no meanness in our rank in life, save when we are ashamed of it! Our efforts to be what we were not born to be, what we ought not to be, what we cannot be,--these may, indeed, make us despicable and ridiculous, for there are things in this world, father, that not even gold can buy."

"By Heaven, that is not true!" said he, fiercely. "There never yet was that in rank, honor, and distinction that was not ticketed with its own price! Our haughtiest n.o.bility--the proudest duke in the land--knows well what his alliance with a plebeian order has done for him. Look about you, girl. Who are these marchionesses, these countesses, who sweep past us in their pride? The daughters of men of my own station,--the wealthy traders of the country--"

"And what is their position, father? A living lie. What is their haughty carriage? The a.s.sumption of a state they were not born to,--the insolent pretension to despise all amidst which they pa.s.sed their youth, their earliest friendships, their purest, best days. Let them, on the other hand, cling to these; let them love what has grown into their natures from infancy,--the home, the companions of their happy childhood,--and see how the world will scoff at their vulgarity, their innate degeneracy, their low-born habits: vulgar if generous, vulgar when saving; their costly tastes a reproach, their parsimony a sneer."

There was a pa.s.sionate energy in her tone and manner, which, heightening the expression of her handsome features, made her actually beautiful; and her father half forgot the opposition to his opinions, in his admiration of her. As he still gazed at her, the sharp sound of a horse's canter was heard behind them; and, on turning round, they saw advancing towards them a young man, mounted on a blood horse, which he rode with all the careless ease of one accustomed to the saddle; his feet dangling loosely out of the stirrups, and one hand thurst into the pocket of his shooting-jacket.