The O'Donoghue Part 45

"Even I, to follow a theme as dispiriting, even I, grow weary of pleasure, and tired of gaiety. The busy world of enjoyment leaves not a moment free for happiness, and already I am longing to be back in the still valley of Glenflesk. It is not that Dublin is not very brilliant, or that society has less of agreeability than I expected--both have exceeded my antic.i.p.ations; nor is it, that I have not been what we should call in France 'successful' in my 'debut'--far from that, I am the fashion, or, rather, half the fashion--Sybella dividing public favour with me;--but, somehow, n.o.body contradicts me here--no one has courage to tell me I'm wrong--no one will venture to say, what you have often said, and even oftener looked, that 'I talked of what I knew nothing;' and, in fact, my dear uncle, every one is so very much in love with me, that I am beginning to detest them, and would give the world to be once more at home, before I extend the hatred to myself, which I must inevitably end by doing, if n.o.body antic.i.p.ates me in the sentiment.

"You told me I should prove faithless to you. Well, I have refused heaven knows how many 'brilliant offers,' for such even the proposers called them. Generals of fourscore, guardsmen of twenty, dignitaries in the church, sergeants learned in the law, country gentlemen in hordes, two baronets, and one luckless viscount, have asked for the valueless hand that writes these lines; and yet--and yet, my dear chevalier, I shall still write myself at the bottom of this page, Kate O'Donoghue. I have no doubt you are very vain of my constancy, and will be so when you read this; and it is right you should be, for, I promise you, in my 'robe, couleur de cerise,' looped with white roses, and my 'chapeau de paysanne,' I am a very pretty person indeed--at least, it seems a point the twelve judges agree upon, and the Master of the Rolls tells me, 'that with such long eye- lashes I might lift my eyes very high indeed.'

"And now, my dear, kind uncle, divide your sorrow between your niece who is dying of vanity, and your nephew who is sick of grief--continue your affection to both--and believe me, in all sincerity of heart, your own fond and faithful,

"Kate O'Donoghue."

"I have met Hems worth, and, strange to say, found him both pleasant and agreeable."

Such were the concluding lines of an epistle, in which few, who did not possess Sir Arches acuteness, could successfully trace any thing of the real character of the writer.

CHAPTER x.x.x. OLD CHARACTERS WITH NEW FACES.

At the time we speak of, Clontarf was the fashionable watering-place of the inhabitants of Dublin; and although it boasted of little other accommodation than a number of small thatched cabins could afford, and from which the fishermen removed to give place to their more opulent guests, yet, thither the great and the wealthy of the capital resorted in summer, to taste the pleasures of a sea side, and that not inferior one, the change of life and habit, entailed by altered circ.u.mstances and more restricted spheres of enjoyment.

If, with all the aid of sunshine and blue water, waving foliage and golden beach, this place had an aspect of modest poverty in its whitened walls and net-covered gardens in summer, in winter its dreariness and desolation were great indeed. The sea swept in long waves the narrow road, even to the doors of the cabins, the muddy foam settling on the window sills, and even drifting to the very roofs; the thatch was fastened down with strong ropes, a.s.sisted by oars and spars, to resist the wild gale that generally blew from the south-east. The trim cottages of summer were now nothing but the miserable hovels of the poor, their gardens waste, their gay aspect departed; even the stirring signs of life seemed vanished; few, if any, of the inhabitants stirred abroad, and save some m.u.f.fled figure that moved past, screening his face from the beating storm, all was silent and motionless. The little inn, which in the summer time was thronged from morning till night, and from whose open windows the merry laugh and the jocund sound of happy voices poured, was now fast shuttered up, and all the precautions of a voyage were taken against the dreaded winter; even to the sign of a gigantic crab, rudely carved in wood and painted red, every thing was removed, and a single melancholy dip candle burned in the bar, as if keeping watch over the sleeping revelry of the place.

If such were the gloomy features without, within doors matters wore a more thriving aspect. In a little parlour behind the bar a brisk fire was burning, before which stood a table neatly prepared for supper; the covers were laid for two, but the provision of wine displayed seemed suited to a larger number. The flashy-looking prints upon the walls shone brightly in the ruddy blaze; the bra.s.s fender and the gla.s.ses sparkled in its clear light, and even to the small, keen eyes of Billy Corcoran, the host, who kept eternally running in and out, to see all right, every thing presented a very cheering contrast to the bleak desolation of the night without.

It was evident that Mr. Corcoran's guests were behind time; his impatience was not to be mistaken. He walked from the kitchen to the parlour and back again without ceasing, now, adding a turf to the fire, now, removing the roasting chickens a little farther from the blaze, and anon, bending his ear to listen if perchance he could catch the sound of approaching wheels. He had sat down on every chair of the parlour, he had taken a half gla.s.s out of each decanter on the table, he had sharpened every knife in turn, and in fact resorted to every device to cheat time, when suddenly the sound of a carriage was heard on the road, and the next moment he unbarred the door and admitted two persons, whose dripping hats and soaked great coats bore evidence to the downpour without.

"Well, Billy," said the first who entered, "this rain will beat down the wind at last, and we shall be able to get some fish in the market."

"Sorra bit, sir," said Billy, as he a.s.sisted the speaker to remove his wet garments, leaving the other stranger to his own devices. "The wind is coming more round to the east, and I know from the noise on the Bull we'll have plenty of it. I was afeard something happened you, sir; you're an hour behind the time you said yourself."

"Very true--so I am. I was detained at a dinner party, and my friend here also kept me waiting a few minutes for him."

"It was not my fault," interposed the other; "I was ready when----"

"Never mind--it was of no consequence whatever; the only misfortune was, we could find no coach, and were forced to put up with a car, and got wet for our pains; but the supper, Bill--the supper."

"Is smoking hot on the table," was the reply; and as he opened the door into the parlour, the fact declared itself to their senses.

The strangers were soon seated at the meal, and like men who could relish its enjoyment not the less for the merit of what they had quitted without doors. It is not necessary to consume much time in presenting them to our readers; they are both already known to him. One was Mr. Hemsworth; the other no less a person than Lanty Lawler, the horse-dealer. One only remark is necessary. Familiar as these characters already are, they here appeared in aspect somewhat different from what they have hitherto exhibited. Hemsworth, no longer the a.s.sociate of fashionable company, had exchanged his silken deferential manner for an air of easy confidence that seemed to fit him even better; Lanty, on the other hand, had lost all his habitual self-possession, looked abashed and sheepish, and seemed for all the world, as though he were in the hands of one, who could dispose of his destiny as he willed it. All the got up readiness of his wit, all his acquired frankness were now gone, and in their place a timid hesitating manner that bespoke the most abject fear and terror; it was evident, too, that he struggled hard to conceal these signs of trepidation. He ate voraciously of all before him, and endeavoured by the pre-occupation of the table to cover his real sentiments at the moment; he drank, too, freely, filling a large goblet to the brim with sherry several times during the meal; nor was this unnoticed by Hemsworth, who at last interposed in a calm, but commanding tone, as he laid his hand on the decanter--

"A pipe of it, if you please, Lanty; you may have a whole bank of the Guadalquiver for your own drinking at another time; but now, if you please, let us have calm heads and cool judgments. It is some time since we met, and it may be longer ere we have another opportunity like the present."

"Very true, sir," said Lanty, submissively, as he pushed his untasted gla.s.s before him. "It was the wetting I was afeard of; my clothes were soaked through."

Hemsworth paid no attention to the excuse, but sat for some minutes deeply sunk in his reflections; then lifting his head suddenly, he said--

"And so these papers have never been found?"

"Never, sir. I did my best to get them. I spent days at the place, and had others looking besides. I said I'd give five guineas--and you know what a reward that is down there--to the man who would bring them to me; but from that hour to this, I never set eyes on them."

"While he was speaking these words, Hemsworth's eyes never turned from him. They were fixed on him, not with any expression of severity or harshness, neither did the glance indicate suspicion. It was a steady, pa.s.sionless stare, rather like one seeking an explanation, than prejudging a motive.

"You were quite certain that they were the papers we wanted?"

"Sure I opened them--sure I read the writing myself, when I took them out of the old man's desk."

"They had better have remained there," said Hemsworth to himself, but loud enough for the other to hear; then rallying quickly, he added, "no matter, however, we have evidence enough of another kind. Where are the letters Mark wrote to the Delegates."

"I think Mr. Morrissy has most of them, sir," said Lanty, hesitatingly; "he is the man that keeps all the writings."

"So he may he, Lanty; but you have some of them yourself: three or four are as good as thirty or forty, and you have as many as that--aye, and here in your pocket, too, this minute. Come, my worthy friend, you may cheat me in horse flesh, whenever I'm fool enough to deal with you; but at this game I'm your master. Let me see these letters."

"How would I have them, Captain, at all," said Lanty, imploringly; "sure you know as well as me, that I'm not in the scheme at all."

"Save so far as having a contract to mount five hundred men of the French on their landing in Ireland, the money for which you have partly received, and for which I hold the check, countersigned by yourself, Master Lanty. Very pretty evidence in a Court of justice--more than enough to hang you, that's all."

"There's many a one sould a horse, and didn't know what use he was for,"

replied Lanty, half rudely.

"Very true; but a contract that stipulates for strong cattle, able to carry twelve stone men with full cavalry equipments, does not read like an engagement to furnish plough horses." Then altering his tone, he added, "No more of this, sir, I can't afford time for such fencing. Show me these letters--show me, that you have done something to earn your own indemnity, or by G--d, I'll let them hang you, as I'd see them hang a dog."

Lanty became lividly pale, as Hemsworth was speaking; a slight convulsive tremor shook his lip for a moment, and he seemed struggling to repress a burst of pa.s.sion, as he held the chair with either hand; but he uttered not a word. Hemsworth leisurely drew forth his watch, and placed it on the table before him, saying--

"It wants eleven minutes of one o'clock; I'll give you to that hour to make up your mind, whether you prefer five hundred pounds in your hand, or take your place in the dock with the rest of them; for, mark me, whether we have your evidence or not, they are equally in our hands.

It is only an economy of testimony I'm studying here, and I reserve my other blackguards for occasions of more moment."

The taunt would appear an ill-timed one at such a minute; but Hemsworth knew well the temperament of him he addressed, and did not utter a syllable at random. Lanty still preserved silence, and looked as though doggedly determined to let the minutes elapse without speaking; his head slightly sunk on his chest, his eyes bent downwards, he sat perfectly motionless. Hemsworth meanwhile refilled his gla.s.s, crossed his arms before him, and seemed awaiting, without impatience, the result of the other's deliberation. At length the hand approached the figure; it wanted but about half a minute of the time, and Hems-worth, taking up the watch from the table, held it before Lanty's eyes, as he said--

"Time is nearly up, Master Lawler; do you refuse?"

"I only ask one condition," said Lanty, in a faint whisper.

"You shall make no bargains: the letters, or------. It is too late now;"

and with these words he replaced his watch in his pocket, and rose from the table.

Lanty never moved a muscle, while Hemsworth approached the fireplace, and rang the bell. In doing so, he turned his back to the horse-dealer, but commanded a view of him through means of the little gla.s.s above the chimney. He stood thus for a few seconds, when Lanty--in whose flashing eyes, and darkened colour, inward rage was depicted--suddenly thrust his arm into the breast of his coat. Hems-worth turned round at once, and seizing the arm in his powerful grasp, said in a cool, determined voice--

"No, no, Lanty; I'm armed, too.

"It was the pocket-book I was feeling for, sir," said Lanty, with a sickly effort at a smile, while he drew forth a black leather case, and handed it towards Hemsworth. "They are all there--seventeen letters--besides two French commissions, signed by young Mark, and a receipt for four hundred pounds in French gold."

"You must find it hard to get bullets for those pistols I gave you, Lanty," said Hemsworth, in a tranquil voice. "I forgot to let you have the bullet-mould with them. Remind me of it to-morrow or next day."

Lanty muttered a faint "I will," but looked the very picture of abject misery as he spoke.

"Let me see them, Lanty," said Hemsworth, in a manner, as calm and unconcerned as could be. "If I don't mistake, they are nearly a quarter of an inch in the bore."

"About that same, sir," replied Lawler, while he drew forth the two pistols from the same breast-pocket he had taken the letters.