Tales and Novels Volume VI Part 16

"It will be, when it is finished," said the count. "I am afraid,"

added he, smiling, "I live like many other Irish gentlemen, who never are, but always to be, blessed with a good house. I began on too large a scale, and can never hope to live to finish it."

"'Pon honour! here's a good thing, which I hope we shall live to finish," said Heathc.o.c.k, sitting down before the collation; and heartily did he eat of eel-pie, and of Irish ortolans [1], which, as Lady Dashfort observed, "afforded him indemnity for the past, and security for the future."

[Footnote 1: As it may be satisfactory to a large portion of the public, and to all men of taste, the editor subjoins the following account of the Irish ortolan, which will convince the world that this bird is not in the cla.s.s of fabulous animals:

"There is a small bird, which is said to be peculiar to the Blasquet Islands, called by the Irish, Gourder, the English name of which I am at a loss for, nor do I find it mentioned by naturalists. It is somewhat larger than a sparrow; the feathers of the back are dark, and those of the belly are white; the bill is straight, short, and thick; and it is web-footed: they are almost one lump of fat; when roasted, of a most delicious taste, and are reckoned to exceed an ortolan; for which reason the gentry hereabouts call them the _Irish Ortolan_.

These birds are worthy of being transmitted a great way to market; for ortolans, it is well known, are brought from France to supply the markets of London."--See Smith's Account of the County of Kerry, p.

186.]

"Eh! re'lly now! your Irish ortolans are famous good eating," said Heathc.o.c.k.

"Worth being quartered in Ireland, faith! to taste 'em," said Benson.

The count recommended to Lady Dashfort some of "that delicate sweetmeat, the Irish plum."

"Bless me, sir,--count!" cried Williamson, "it's by far the best thing of the kind I ever tasted in all my life: where could you get this?"

"In Dublin, at my dear Mrs. G.o.dey's; where _only_, in his majesty's dominions, it is to be had," said the count.

The whole vanished in a few seconds.

"'Pon honour! I do believe this is the thing the queen's so fond of,"

said Heathc.o.c.k.

Then heartily did he drink of the count's excellent Hungarian wines; and, by the common bond of sympathy between those who have no other tastes but eating and drinking, the colonel, the major, and the captain, were now all the best companions possible for one another.

Whilst "they prolonged the rich repast," Lady Dashfort and Lord Colambre went to the window to admire the prospect: Lady Dashfort asked the count the name of some distant hill.

"Ah!" said the count, "that hill was once covered with fine wood; but it was all cut down two years ago."

"Who could have been so cruel?" said her ladyship.

"I forget the present proprietor's name," said the count; "but he is one of those who, according to _the clause of distress_ in their leases, _lead, drive, and carry away_, but never _enter_ their lands; one of those enemies to Ireland--those cruel absentees!"

Lady Dashfort looked through her gla.s.s at the mountain:--Lord Colambre sighed, and, endeavouring to pa.s.s it off with a smile, said frankly to the count, "You are not aware, I am sure, count, that you are speaking to the son of an Irish absentee family. Nay, do not be shocked, my dear sir; I tell you only because I thought it fair to do so: but let me a.s.sure you, that nothing you could say on that subject could hurt me personally, because I feel that I am not, that I never can be, an enemy to Ireland. An absentee, voluntarily, I never yet have been; and as to the future, I declare--"

"I declare you know nothing of the future," interrupted Lady Dashfort, in a half peremptory, half playful tone--"you know nothing: make no rash vows, and you will break none."

The undaunted a.s.surance of Lady Dashfort's genius for intrigue gave her an air of frank imprudence, which prevented Lord Colambre from suspecting that more was meant than met the ear. The count and he took leave of one another with mutual regard; and Lady Dashfort rejoiced to have got our hero out of Halloran Castle.

CHAPTER IX.

Lord Colambre had waited with great impatience for an answer to the letter of inquiry which he had written about Miss Nugent's mother. A letter from Lady Clonbrony arrived: he opened it with the greatest eagerness--pa.s.sed over "Rheumatism--warm weather--warm bath--Buxton b.a.l.l.s--Miss Broadhurst--your _friend_, Sir Arthur Berryl, very a.s.siduous!" The name of Grace Nugent he found at last, and read as follows:--

"Her mother's maiden name was _St. Omar_; and there was a _faux pas_, certainly. She was, I am told, (for it was before my time,) educated at a convent abroad; and there was an affair with a Captain Reynolds, a young officer, which her friends were obliged to hush up. She brought an infant to England with her, and took the name of Reynolds--but none of that family would acknowledge her: and she lived in great obscurity, till your Uncle Nugent saw, fell in love with her, and (knowing her whole history) married her. He adopted the child, gave her his name, and, after some years, the whole story was forgotten. Nothing could be more disadvantageous to Grace than to have it revived: this is the reason we kept it secret."

Lord Colambre tore the letter to bits.

From the perturbation which Lady Dashfort saw in his countenance, she guessed the nature of the letter which he had been reading, and for the arrival of which he had been so impatient.

"It has worked!" said she to herself. "_Pour le coup Philippe je te tiens_!"

Lord Colambre appeared this day more sensible than he had ever yet seemed to the charms of the fair Isabel.

"Many a tennis-ball, and many a heart, is caught at the rebound," said Lady Dashfort. "Isabel! now is your time!"

And so it was--or so, perhaps, it would have been, but for a circ.u.mstance which her ladyship, with all her genius for intrigue, had never taken into her consideration. Count O'Halloran came to return the visit which had been paid to him; and, in the course of conversation, he spoke of the officers who had been introduced to him, and told Lady Dashfort that he had heard a report which shocked him much--he hoped it could not be true--that one of these officers had introduced his mistress as his wife to Lady Oranmore, who lived in the neighbourhood. This officer, it was said, had let Lady Oranmore send her carriage for this woman; and that she had dined at Oranmore with her ladyship and her daughters. "But I cannot believe it! I cannot believe it to be possible, that any gentleman, that any _officer_ could do such a thing!" said the count.

"And is this all?" exclaimed Lady Dashfort. "Is this all the terrible affair, my good count, which has brought your face to this prodigious length?"

The count looked at Lady Dashfort with astonishment.

"Such a look of virtuous indignation," continued she, "did I never behold on or off the stage. Forgive me for laughing, count; but, believe me, comedy goes through the world better than tragedy, and, take it all in all, does rather less mischief. As to the thing in question, I know nothing about it; I dare say it is not true: but, now, suppose it were--it is only a silly _quiz_ of a raw young officer upon a prudish old dowager. I know nothing about it, for my part: but, after all, what irreparable mischief has been done? Laugh at the thing, and then it is a jest--a bad one, perhaps, but still only a jest--and there's an end of it: but take it seriously, and there is no knowing where it might end--in this poor man's being broke, and in half a dozen duels, may be."

"Of that, madam," said the count, "Lady Oranmore's prudence and presence of mind have prevented all danger. Her ladyship _would_ not understand the insult. She said, or she acted as if she said, '_Je ne veux rien voir, rien ecouter, rien savoir._' Lady Oranmore is one of the most respectable--"

"Count, I beg your pardon!" interrupted Lady Dashfort; "but I must tell you, that your favourite, Lady Oranmore, has behaved very ill to me; purposely omitted to invite Isabel to her ball; offended and insulted me:--her praises, therefore, cannot be the most agreeable subject of conversation you can choose for my amus.e.m.e.nt; and as to the rest, you, who have such variety and so much politeness, will, I am sure, have the goodness to indulge my caprice in this instance."

"I shall obey your ladyship, and be silent, whatever pleasure it might give me to speak on that subject," said the count; "and I trust Lady Dashfort will reward me by the a.s.surance, that, however playfully she may have just now spoken, she seriously disapproves, and is shocked."

"Oh, shocked! shocked to death! if that will satisfy you, my dear count."

The count, obviously, was not satisfied: he had civil, as well as military courage, and his sense of right and wrong could stand against the raillery and ridicule of a fine lady.

The conversation ended: Lady Dashfort thought it would have no farther consequences; and she did not regret the loss of a man like Count O'Halloran, who lived retired in his castle, and who could not have any influence upon the opinion of the fashionable world. However, upon turning from the count to Lord Colambre, who she thought had been occupied with Lady Isabel, and to whom she imagined all this dispute was uninteresting, she perceived, by his countenance, that she had made a great mistake. Still she trusted that her power over Lord Colambre was sufficient easily to efface whatever unfavourable impression this conversation had made upon his mind. He had no personal interest in the affair; and she had generally found that people are easily satisfied about any wrong or insult, public or private, in which they have no immediate concern. But all the charms of her conversation were now tried in vain to reclaim him from the reverie into which he had fallen.

His friend Sir James Brooke's parting advice occurred to our hero: his eyes began to open to Lady Dashfort's character; and he was, from this moment, freed from her power. Lady Isabel, however, had taken no part in all this--she was blameless; and, independently of her mother, and in pretended opposition of sentiment, she might have continued to retain the influence she had gained over Lord Colambre, but that a slight accident revealed to him _her_ real disposition.

It happened, on the evening of this day, that Lady Isabel came into the library with one of the young ladies of the house, talking very eagerly, without perceiving Lord Colambre, who was sitting in one of the recesses reading.

"My dear creature, you are quite mistaken," said Lady Isabel, "he was never a favourite of mine; I always detested him; I only flirted with him to plague his wife. Oh, that wife! my dear Elizabeth, I do hate,"

cried she, clasping her hands, and expressing hatred with all her soul, and with all her strength. "I detest that Lady de Cressy to such a degree, that, to purchase the pleasure of making her feel the pangs of jealousy for one hour, look, I would this moment lay down this finger and let it be cut off."

The face, the whole figure of Lady Isabel, at this moment, appeared to Lord Colambre suddenly metamorphosed; instead of the soft, gentle, amiable female, all sweet charity and tender sympathy, formed to love and to be loved, he beheld one possessed and convulsed by an evil spirit--her beauty, if beauty it could be called, the beauty of a fiend. Some e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n, which he unconsciously uttered, made Lady Isabel start. She saw him--saw the expression of his countenance, and knew that all was over.

Lord Colambre, to the utter astonishment and disappointment of Lady Dashfort, and to the still greater mortification of Lady Isabel, announced this night that it was necessary he should immediately pursue his tour in Ireland. We pa.s.s over all the castles in the air which the young ladies of the family had built, and which now fell to the ground. We pa.s.s all the civil speeches of Lord and Lady Killpatrick; all the vehement remonstrances of Lady Dashfort; and the vain sighs of Lady Isabel. To the last moment Lady Dashfort said, "He will not go."

But he went; and, when he was gone, Lady Dashfort exclaimed, "That man has escaped from me." After a pause, turning to her daughter, she, in the most taunting and contemptuous terms, reproached her as the cause of this failure, concluding by a declaration, that she must in future manage her own affairs, and had best settle her mind to marry Heathc.o.c.k, since every one else was too wise to think of her.

Lady Isabel of course retorted. But we leave this amiable mother and daughter to recriminate in appropriate terms, and we follow our hero, rejoiced that he has been disentangled from their snares. Those who have never been in similar peril will wonder much that he did not escape sooner; those who have ever been in like danger will wonder more that he escaped at all. They who are best acquainted with the heart or imagination of man will be most ready to acknowledge that the combined charms of wit, beauty, and flattery, may, for a time, suspend the action of right reason in the mind of the greatest philosopher, or operate against the resolutions of the greatest of heroes.

Lord Colambre pursued his way to Halloran Castle, desirous, before he quitted this part of the country, to take leave of the count, who had shown him much civility, and for whose honourable conduct and generous character he had conceived a high esteem, which no little peculiarities of antiquated dress or manner could diminish. Indeed, the old-fashioned politeness of what was formerly called a well-bred gentleman pleased him better than the indolent or insolent selfishness of modern men of the ton. Perhaps, notwithstanding our hero's determination to turn his mind from every thing connected with the idea of Miss Nugent, some latent curiosity about the burial-place of the Nugents might have operated to make him call upon the count.

In this hope he was disappointed; for a cross miller, to whom the abbey-ground was let, on which the burial-place was found, had taken it into his head to refuse admittance, and none could enter his ground.