The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 61

"A lie, Norton," replied his lordship--"a lie, as usual. You hope no such thing. The agency which is to follow on the respectable old peer's demise bars that--eh?"

"I give you my honor, my lord, you do me injustice. I am in no hurry with him on that account; it would be unfeeling,and selfish."

"Now, Tom," replied the other, in that kind of contemptuous familiarity which slavish minions or adroit knaves like Norton must always put up with from such men, "now, Tom, my good fellow, you know the case is this--you get the agency to the Cullamore property the moment my right honorable dad makes his exit. If he should delay that exit for seven years to come, then you will be exactly seven years short of the period in which you will fleece me and my tenants, and put the wool on yourself."

"Only your tenants, my lord, if you please. I may shear them, a little, I trust; but you can't suppose me capable of shearing--"

"My lordship. No, no, you are too honest; only you will allow me to insinuate, in the meantime, that I believe you have fleeced me to some purpose already. I do not allude to your gambling debts, which, with my own, I have been obliged to pay; but to other opportunities which have come in your way. It doesn't matter, however; you are a pleasant and a useful fellow, and I believe that although you clip me yourself a little, you would permit no one else to do so. And, by the way, talking of the respectable old peer, he is anything but a friend of yours, and urged me strongly to send you to the devil, as a cheat and impostor."

"How is that, my lord?" asked Norton, with an interest which he could scarcely disguise.

"Why, he mentioned something of a conversation you had, in which you told him, you impudent dog--and coolly to his face, too--that you patronized his son while in France, and introduced him to several distinguished French n.o.blemen, not one of whom, he had reason to believe, ever existed except in your own fertile and lying imagination."

"And was that all?" asked Norton, who I began to entertain apprehensions of Morty O'Flaherty; "did he mention nothing else?"

"No," replied Dunroe; "and you scoundrel, was not that a d--d deal too much?"

Norton, now feeling that he was safe from Morty, laughed very heartily, and replied,

"It's a fact, sure enough; but then, wasn't it on your lordship's account I bounced? The lie, in point of fact, if it can be called one, was, therefore, more your lordship's lie than mine."

"How do you mean by 'if it can be called one'?"

"Why, if I did not introduce you to real n.o.blemen, I did to some spurious specimens, gentlemen who taught you all the arts and etiquette of the gaming-table, of which, you know very well, my lord, you were then so shamefully ignorant, as to be quite unfit for the society of gentlemen, especially on the continent."

"Yes, Tom, and the state of my property now tells me at what cost you taught me. You see these tenants say they have not money, plead hard times, failure of crops, and depreciation of property."

"Ay, and so they will plead, until I take them in hand."

"And, upon my soul, I don't care how soon that may be."

"Monster of disobedience," said Norton, ironically, "is it thus you speak of a beloved parent, and that parent a respectable old peer? In other words, you wish him in kingdom come. Repent, my lord--retract those words, or dread 'the raven of the valley'."

"Faith, Tom, there's no use in concealing it. It's not that I wish him gone; but that I long as much to touch the property at large, as you the agency. It's a devilish tough affair, this illness of his."

"Patience, my lord, and filial affection."

"I wish he would either live or die; for, in the first case, I could marry this brave and wealthy wench of the baronet's, which I can't do now, and he in such a state of health. If I could once touch the Gourlay cash, I were satisfied. The Gourlay estates will come to me, too, because there is no heir, and they go with this wench, who is a brave wench, for that reason."

"So she has consented to have you at last?"

"Do you think, Tom, she ever had any serious intention of declining the coronet? No, no; she wouldn't be her father's daughter if she had."

"Yes; but your lordship suspected that the fellow who shot you had made an impression in that quarter."

"I did for a time--that is, I was fool enough to think so; she is, however, a true woman, and only played him off against me."

"But why does she refuse to see you?"

"She hasn't refused, man; her health, they tell me, is not good of late; of course, she is only waiting to gain strength for the interview, that is all. Ah, Tom, my dear fellow, I understand women a devilish deal better than you do."

"So you ought; you have had greater experience, and paid more for it.

What will you do with the fair blonde, though. I suppose the matrimonial compact will send her adrift."

"Suppose no such thing, then. I had her before matrimony, and I will have her after it. No, Tom, I am not ungrateful; fore or aft, she shall be retained. She shall never say that I acted unhandsomely by her, especially as she has become a good girl and repented. I know I did her injustice about the player-man. On that point she has thoroughly satisfied me, and I was wrong."

Norton gave him a peculiar look, one of those looks which an adept in the ways of life, in its crooked paths and unprincipled impostures, not unfrequently bestows upon the poor aristocratic dolt whom he is plundering to his face. The look we speak of might be mistaken for surprise--it might be mistaken for pity--but it was meant for contempt.

"Of course," said he, "you are too well versed in the ways of the world, my lord, and especially in those of the fair s.e.x, to be imposed upon. If ever I met an individual who can read a man's thoughts by looking into his face, your lordship is the man. By the way, when did you see your father-in-law that is to be?"

"A couple of days ago. He, too, has been ill, and looks somewhat shaken.

It is true, I don't like the man, and I believe n.o.body does; but I like very well to hear him talk of deeds, settlements, and marriage articles.

He begged of me, however, not to insist on seeing his daughter until she is fully recovered, which he expects will be very soon; and the moment she is prepared for an interview, he is to let me know. But, harkee, Tom, what can the old earl want with me this morning, think you?"

"I cannot even guess," replied the other, "unless it be to prepare you for--"

"For what?"

"Why, it is said that the fair lady with whom you are about to commit the crime of matrimony is virtuous and religious, as well as beautiful and so forth; and, in that case, perhaps he is about to prepare you for the expected conference. I cannot guess anything else, unless, perhaps, it may be the avarice of age about to rebuke the profusion and generosity of youth. In that case, my lord, keep your temper, and don't compromise your friends."

"Never fear, Tom; I have already fought more battles on your account than you could dream of. Perhaps, after all, it is nothing. Of late he has sent for me occasionally, as if to speak upon some matter of importance, when, after chatting upon the news of the day or lecturing me for supporting an impostor--meaning you--he has said he would defer the subject on which he wished to speak, until another opportunity.

Whatever it is, he seems afraid of it, or perhaps the respectable old peer is doting."

"I dare say, my lord, it is very natural he should at these years; but if he," proceeded Norton, laughing, "is doting now, what will you be at his years? Here, however, is his confidential man, Morty O'Flaherty."

O'Flaherty now entered, and after making a bow that still smacked strongly of Tipperary, delivered his message.

"My masther, Lord Cullamore, wishes to see you, my lord. He has come down stairs, and is facing the sun, the Lord be praised, in the back drawin'-room."

"Go, my lord," said Norton; "perhaps he wishes you to make a third luminary. Go and help him to face the sun."

"Be my sowl, Mr. Norton, if I'm not much mistaken, it's the father he'll have to face. I may as well give you the hard word, my lord--troth, I think you had better be on your edge; he's as dark as midnight, although the sun is in his face."

His lordship went out, after having given two or three yawns, stretched himself, and shrugged his shoulders, like a man who was about to enter upon some unpleasant business with manifest reluctance.

"Ah," exclaimed Morty, looking after him, "there goes a cute boy--at last, G.o.d forgive him, he's of that opinion himself. What a pity there's not more o' the family; they'd ornament the counthry."

"Say, rather, Morty, that there's one too many."

"Faith, and I'm sure, Barney, you oughtn't to think so. Beg pardon--Mr.

Norton."

"Morty, curse you, will you be cautious? But why should I not think so?"

"For sound raisons, that no man knows better than yourself."

"I'm not the only person that thinks there's one too many of the family, Morty. In that opinion I am ably supported by his lordship, just gone out there."

"Where! Ay, I see whereabouts you are now. One too many--faith, so the blessed pair of you think, no doubt."