Tony Butler Part 14

"Let us come back to your Prince or Count," said Mark, "whichever he is.

Why not ask him down here?"

"Yes; we have room," said Lady Lyle; "the M'Clintocks left this morning."

"By all means, invite him," broke in Mrs. Trafford; "that is, if he be what we conjecture the dear friend of Mr. Maitland might and should be."

"I am afraid to speak of him," said Maitland; "one disserves a friend by any over-praise; but at Naples, and in his own set, he is thought charming."

"I like Italians myself," said Colonel Hoyle. "I had a fellow I picked up at Malta,--a certain Geronimo. I 'm not sure he was not a Maltese; but such a salad as he could make! There was everything you could think of in it,--tomato, eggs, sardines, radishes, beetroot, cuc.u.mber."

"Every Italian is a bit of a cook," said Maitland, relieving adroitly the company from the tiresome detail of the Colonel. "I 'll back my friend Caffarelli for a dish of macaroni against all professional artists."

While the Colonel and his wife got into a hot dispute whether there was or was not a slight flavor of parmesan in the salad, the others gathered around Maitland to hear more of his friend. Indeed, it was something new to hear of an Italian of cla.s.s and condition. They only knew the nation as tenors or modellers or language masters. Their compound idea of Italian was a thing of dark skin and dark eyes; very careless in dress, very submissive in aspect, with a sort of subdued fire, however, in look, that seemed to say how much energy was only sleeping there! and when Maitland sketched the domestic ties of a rich magnate of the land, living a life of luxurious indolence, in a sort of childlike simplicity as to what engaged other men in other countries, without a thought for questions of politics, religion, or literature, living for mere life's sake, he interested them much.

"I shall be delighted to ask him here," said he, at last; "only let me warn you against disappointment. He'll not be witty like a Frenchman, nor profound like a German, nor energetic like an Englishman; he 'll neither want to gain knowledge nor impart it. He'll only ask to be permitted to enjoy the pleasures of a very charming society without any demand being made upon him to contribute anything; to make him fancy, in short, that he knew you all years and years ago, and has just come back out of cloud-land to renew the intimacy. Will you have him after this?"

"By all means," was the reply. "Go and write your letter to him."

Maitland went to his room, and soon wrote the following:--

"Caro Carlo mio,--Who'd have thought of seeing you in Ireland? but I have scarce courage to ask you how and why you came here, lest you retort the question upon myself. For the moment, however, I am comfortably established in a goodish sort of country-house, with some pretty women, and, thank Heaven, no young men save one son of the family, whom I have made sufficiently afraid of me to repress all familiarities. They beg me to ask you here, and I see nothing against it. We eat and drink very well. The place is healthy, and though the climate is detestable, it braces and gives appet.i.te. We shall have, at all events, ample time to talk over much that interests us both, and so I say, Come!

"The road is by Belfast, and thence to Coleraine, where we shall take care to meet you. I ought to add that your host's name is Sir Arthur Lyle, an Anglo-Indian, but who, thank your stars for it! being a civilian, has neither shot tigers nor stuck pigs. It will also be a relief to you to learn that there's no sport of any kind in the neighborhood, and there cannot be the shade of a pretext for making you mount a horse or carry a gun, nor can any insidious tormentor persecute you with objects of interest or antiquity; and so, once again, Come--and believe me, ever your most cordial friend,

"N. Maitland.

"There is no reason why you should not be here by Sat.u.r.day, so that, if nothing contrary is declared, I shall look out for you by that day; but write at all events."

CHAPTER X. A BLUNDER

Sir Arthur Lyle was a county dignity, and somewhat fond of showing it. It is true he could not compete with the old blood of the land, or contest place with an O'Neil or an O'Hara; but his wealth gave him a special power, and it was a power that all could appreciate. There was no mistake about one who could head a subscription by a hundred pounds, or write himself patron of a school or a hospital with a thousand! And then his house was more splendid, his servants more numerous, their liveries finer, his horses better, than his neighbors; and he was not above making these advantages apparent. Perhaps his Indian experiences may have influenced his leanings, and taught him to place a higher value on show and all the details of external greatness. On everything that savored of a public occasion, he came with all the pomp and parade of a sovereign. A meeting of poor-law guardians, a committee of the county infirmary, a board of railway directors, were all events to be signalized by his splendid appearance.

His coach and four, and his outriders--for he had outriders--were admirable in all their appointments. Royalty could not have swung upon more perfectly balanced nor easier springs, nor could a royal team have beat the earth with a grander action or more measured rhythm. The harness--bating the excess of splendor--was perfect. It was ma.s.sive and well-fitting. As for the servants, a master of the horse could not have detected an inaccurate fold in their cravats, nor a crease in their silk stockings. Let the world be as critical or slighting as it may, these things are successes. They are trifles only to him who has not attempted them. Neither is it true to say that money can command them; for there is much in them that mere money cannot do. There is a keeping in all details,--a certain "tone" throughout, and, above all, a discipline the least flaw in which would convert a solemn display into a mockery.

Neighbors might criticise the propriety or canva.s.s the taste of so much ostentation, but none, not the most sarcastic or scrutinizing, could say one word against the display itself; and so, when on a certain forenoon the dense crowd of the market-place scattered and fled right and left to make way for the prancing leaders of that haughty equipage, the sense of admiration overcame even the unpleasant feeling of inferiority, and that flunkeyism that has its hold on humanity felt a sort of honor in being hunted away by such magnificence.

Through the large square--or Diamond, as the Northerns love to call it--of the town they came, upsetting apple-stalls and crockery-booths, and frightening old peasant women, who, with a goose under one arm and a hank of yarn under the other, were bent on enterprises of barter and commerce. Sir Arthur drove up to the bank, of which he was the governor, and on whose steps, to receive him, now stood the other members of the board. With his ma.s.sive gold watch in hand, he announced that the fourteen miles had been done in an hour and sixteen minutes, and pointed to the glossy team, whose swollen veins stood out like whipcord, to prove that there was no distress to the cattle. The board chorused a.s.sent, and one--doubtless an ambitious man--actually pa.s.sed his hand down the back sinews of a wheeler, and said, "Cool as spring-water, I pledge my honor." Sir Arthur smiled benignly, looked up at the sky, gave an approving look at the sun as though to say, "Not bad for Ireland,"

and entered the bank.

It was about five o'clock in the same evening when the great man again appeared at the same place; he was flushed and weary-looking. Some rebellious spirits--is not the world full of them?--had dared to oppose one of his ordinances. They had ventured to question some subsidy that he would accord or refuse to some local line of railroad. The opposition had deeply offended him; and though he had crushed it, it had wounded him. He was himself the bank!--its high repute, its great credit, its large connection, were all of his making; and that same Mr. M'Candlish who had dared to oppose him was a creature of his own,--that is, he had made him a t.i.the-valuator, or a road-inspector, or a stamp distributor, or a something or other of the hundred petty places which he distributed just as the monks of old gave alms at the gates of their convents.

Sir Arthur whispered a word to Mr. Boyd, the secretary, as he pa.s.sed downstairs. "How does M'Candlish stand with the bank? He has had advances lately; send me a note of them." And thus, bent on reprisals, he stood waiting for that gorgeous equipage which was now standing fully ready in the inn yard, while the coachman was discussing a chop and a pot of porter. "Why is not he ready?" asked Sir Arthur, impatiently.

"He was getting a nail in Blenheim's off foreshoe, sir," was the ready reply; and as Blenheim was a blood bay sixteen-three, and worth two hundred and fifty pounds, there was no more to be said; and so Sir Arthur saw the rest of the board depart on jaunting-cars, gigs, or dog-carts, as it might be,--humble men with humble conveyances, that could take them to their homes without the delays that wait upon greatness.

"Anything new stirring, Boyd?" asked Sir Arthur, trying not to show that he was waiting for the pleasure of his coachman.

"No, sir; all dull as ditch-water."

"We want rain, I fancy,--don't we?"

"We 'd not be worse for a little, sir. The after-gra.s.s, at least, would benefit by it."

"Why don't you pave this town better, Boyd? I 'm certain it was these rascally stones twisted Blenheim's shoe."

"Our corporation will do nothing, sir,--nothing," said the other, in a whisper.

"Who is that fellow with the large whiskers, yonder,--on the steps of the hotel? He looks as if he owned the town."

"A foreigner, Sir Arthur; a Frenchman or a German, I believe. He came over this morning to ask if we knew the address of Mr. Norman Maitland."

"Count Caffarelli," muttered Sir Arthur to himself; "what a chance that I should see him! How did he come?"

"Posted, sir; slept at Cookstown last night, and came here to breakfast."

Though the figure of the ill.u.s.trious stranger was very far from what Sir Arthur was led to expect, he knew that personal appearance was not so distinctive abroad as in England, and so he began to con over to himself what words of French he could muster, to make his advances. Now, had it been Hindostanee that was required, Sir Arthur would have opened his negotiations with all the florid elegance that could be wished; but French was a tongue in which he had never been a proficient, and, in his ordinary life, had little need of. He thought, however, that his magnificent carriage and splendid horses would help him out of the blunders of declensions and genders, and that what he wanted in grammar he could make up in greatness. "Follow me to M'Grotty's," said he to his coachman, and took the way across the square.

Major M'Caskey--for it was no other than that distinguished gentleman--was standing with both hands in the pockets of a very short shooting-jacket, and a clay pipe in his mouth, as Sir Arthur, courteously uncovering, bowed his way up the steps, saying something in which _l'honneur, la felicite, and infiniment flatte_, floated amidst a number of less intelligibly rendered syllables, ended the whole with "_Ami de mon ami_, M. Norman Maitland."

Major M'Caskey raised his hat straight above his head and replaced it, listening calmly to the embarra.s.sed attempts of the other, and then coldly replied in French, "I have the honor to be the friend of M.

Maitland,--how and when can I see him?"

"If you will condescend to be my guest, and allow me to offer you a seat with me to Lyle Abbey, you will see your friend." And, as Sir Arthur spoke, he pointed to his carriage.

"Ah, and this is yours? _Pardie!_ it's remarkably well done. I accept at once. Fetch down my portmanteau and the pistol-case," said he to a small, ill-looking boy in a shabby green livery, and to whom he spoke in a whisper; while, turning to Sir Arthur, he resumed his French.

"This I call a real piece of good-fortune,--I was just saying to myself, 'Here I am; and though he says, Come! how are we to meet?'"

"But you knew, Count, that we were expecting you."

"Nothing of the kind. All I knew was his message, 'Come here.' I had no antic.i.p.ation of such pleasant quarters as you promise me."

Seated in the post of honor on the right of Sir Arthur, the Major, by way of completing the measure of his enjoyments, asked leave to smoke.

The permission was courteously accorded, and away they rolled over the smooth highway to the pleasant measure of that stirring music,--the trot of four spanking horses.

Two--three--four efforts did Sir Arthur make at conversation, but they all ended in sad failure. He wanted to say something about the crops, but he did not remember the French for "oats;" he wished to speak of the road, but he knew not the phrase for "grand jury;" he desired to make some apology for a backward season, but he might as well have attempted to write a Greek ode; and so he sat and smiled and waved his hand, pointing out objects of interest, and interjectionally jerking out, "Bons--braves--tres braves--but poor--pauvres--tres pauvres--light soil--legere, you understand," and with a vigorous "hem" satisfied himself that he had said something intelligible. After this no more attempts at conversation were made; for the Major had quietly set his companion down for an intense bore, and fell back upon his tobacco for solace.

"La!" cried the Baronet, after a long silence--and he pointed with his finger to a tall tower, over which a large flag was waving, about half a mile away,--"La! Notre chateau--Lyle Abbey--moi;" and he tapped his breast to indicate the personal interest that attached to the spot.

"Je vous en fais mes compliments," cried M'Caskey, who chuckled at the idea of such quarters, and very eloquently went on to express the infinite delight it gave him to cultivate relations with a family at once so amiable and so distinguished. The happy hazard which brought him was in reality another tie that bound him to the friendship of that "cher Maitland." Delivered of this, the Major emptied his pipe, replaced it in its case, and then, taking off his hat, ran his hands through his hair, arranged his shirt-collar, and made two or three other efforts at an improvised toilet.

"We are late--_en r.e.t.a.r.d_--I think," said Sir Arthur, as they drew up at the door, where two sprucely dressed servants stood to receive them. "We dine--at eight--eight," said he, pointing to that figure on his watch.

"You 'll have only time to dress,--dress;" and he touched the lappet of his coat, for he was fairly driven to pantomime to express himself.

"Hailes," cried he to a servant in discreet black, "show the Count to his room, and attend to him; his own man has not come on, it seems," and then, with many bows and smiles and courteous gestures, consigned his distinguished guest to the care of Mr. Hailes, and walked hurriedly upstairs to his own room.

"Such a day as I have had," cried he, as he entered the dressing-room, where Lady Lyle was seated with a French novel. "Those fellows at the bank, led on by that creature M'Candlish, had the insolence to move an amendment to that motion of mine about the drainage loan. I almost thought they'd have given me a fit of apoplexy; but I crushed them: and I told Boyd, 'If I see any more of this, I don't care from what quarter it comes,--if these insolences be repeated,--I' ll resign the direction.