CHAPTER XVII. BAGENAL DALY'S JOURNEY TO DUBLIN
It is not our desire to practise any mystery with our reader, nor wouldthe present occasion warrant such. Mr. Daly's hurried departure forDublin was caused by the receipt of tidings which had that morningreached him, conveying the startling intelligence that his friend theKnight had accepted terms from the Government, and pledged himself tosupport their favored measure.
It was a time when men were accustomed to witness the most flagrantbreaches of honor and good faith. No station was too high to be abovethe reach of this reproach, no position too humble not to make itspossessor a mark for corruption. It was an epidemic of dishonesty, andpeople ceased to wonder as they heard of each new victim to the malady.
Bagenal Daly well knew that no man could be more exempt from animputation of this nature than the Knight of Gwynne: every act of hislife, every sentiment he professed, every trait of his character, flatlycontradicted the supposition. But he also knew that though Darcy wasunassailable by all the temptations of bribery, come in what shapethey might, that his frank and generous spirit would expose him to thestratagems and devices of a wily and insidious party, and that if, byany accident, an expression should fall from him in all the freedom ofconvivial enjoyment that could be tortured into even the resemblanceof a pledge, he well knew that his friend would deem any sacrifice ofpersonal feeling light in the balance, rather than not adhere to it.
Resolved not to lose a moment, he despatched Sandy to order horses alongthe line, and having passed the remainder of the day in the preparationsfor his departure, he left the abbey before midnight. A less determinedtraveller might have hesitated on setting out on such a night: the longmenacing storm had at length burst forth, and the air resounded with achaos of noise, amid which the roaring breakers and the crash of fallingtrees were uppermost; with difficulty the horses were enabled to keeptheir feet, as the sea washed heavily over the wall and deluged theroad, while at intervals the fallen timber obstructed the way anddelayed his progress. Difficulty was, however, the most enjoyablestimulant to Daly's nature; he loved an obstacle as other men enjoy apleasure, and, as he grew older, so far from yielding to the indolenceof years, his hardy spirit seemed to revel in the thought that amiddangers and perils his whole life had been passed, yet never had hesuffered himself to be a beaten enemy.
The whole of that night, and all the following day, the violence of thestorm was unabated; uprooted trees and wrecked villages met his eye ashe passed, while, in the larger towns, the houses were strongly barredand shuttered, and scarcely one living thing to be seen throughthe streets. Nothing short of the united influence of bribery andintimidation could procure horses in such a season, and had anymessenger of less sturdy pretensions than honest Sandy been despatchedto order them, they would have been flatly refused. Bagenal Daly and hisman were, however, too well known in that part of Ireland to make such acourse advisable, and though postboys and ostlers condoled together, thesignal of Daly's appearance silenced every thought of opposition, andthe words, "I 'm ready!" were an order to dash forward none dared todisobey.
So had it continued until he reached Moate, where he found a messagefrom Sandy, informing him that no horses could be procured, and that hemust bring on those from Athlone the entire way to Kilbeggan.
"You hear me," cried Daly to the astonished postboy, who for the lasttwo miles had spared neither whip nor spur, in the glad anticipation ofa speedy shelter,--"you hear me. To Kilbeggan."
"Oh, begorra! that's impossible, yer honor. If it was the month of May,and the road was a bowling-green, the bastes couldn't do it."
"Go on!" cried Daly, shutting up the glass, and throwing himself back inthe chaise.
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But the postboy only buttoned up the collar of his coat around his face,thrust his whip into his boot, and, drawing his sleeves over his hands,sat a perfect picture of fatalism.
"I say, go on!" shouted Daly, as he lowered the front window of thechaise.
A low muttering from the driver, still impassive as before, was all thereply, and at the same instant a sharp report was heard, and a pistolbullet whizzed beside his hat.
"Will you go _now?_" cried Bagenal Daly, as he levelled another weaponon the window; but no second entreaty was necessary, and, with hisbead bent down almost to the mane, and with a mingled cry for mercyand imprecation together, he drove the spurs into his jaded beast, andwhipped with all his might through the almost deserted town. With thedespairing energy of one who felt his life was in peril, the wretchedpostboy hurried madly forward, urging the tired animals up the hills,and caring neither for rut nor hollow on his onward course, till atlength, blown and exhausted, the animals came to a dead stand, and,with heaving flanks and outstretched forelegs, refused to budge a stepfarther.
"There!" cried the postboy, as, dropping from the saddle, he fell on hisknees upon the road, "shoot, and be d------d to you; I can do no more."
The terrified expression of the fellow's face as the lamp of thechaise threw its light upon him, seemed to change the current of Daly'sthoughts, for he laughed loud and heartily as he looked upon him.
"Come, come," said he, good-humoredly, "is not that Kilbeggan where Isee the lights yonder?"
"Sorra bit of it," sighed the other, "it is only Horseleap."
"Well, push on to Horseleap; perhaps they 've horses there."
"Begorra! you might as well look for black tay in a bog-hole; 't is apoor 'shebeen' is the only thing in the village;" and, so saying, hetook the bridle on his arm, and walked along before the horses, who,with drooping heads, tottered after at a foot pace.
About half an hour of such travelling brought Daly in front of amiserable cabin, over the door of which a creaking sign proclaimedaccommodation for man and beast. To the partial truth of this statementthe bright glare of a fire that shone between the chinks of the shuttersbore witness, and, disengaging himself from the chaise, Daly knockedloudly for admission. There are few less conciliating sounds to theears of a hot-tempered man than those hesitating whispers which, whileexposed to a storm himself, he hears deliberating on the question of hisadmission. Such were the mutterings Daly now listened to, and to whichhe was about to reply by forcing his entrance, when the door was openedby a man in the dress of a peasant, who somewhat sulkily demanded whathe wanted.
"Horses, if you have them, to reach Kilbeggan," said Daly, "and if youhave not, a good fire and shelter until they can be procured;" and ashe spoke, he pushed past the man, and entered the room from which theblazing light proceeded.
With his back to the fire, and hands thrust carelessly into the pocketsof his coat, stood a man of eight-and-thirty or forty years of age;in dress, air, and appearance he might have been taken for a countryhorse-dealer; and so, indeed, his well-worn top-boots and green coat,cut in jockey fashion, seemed to bespeak him. He was rather under themiddle size, but powerfully built, his wide chest, long arms, and bowedlegs all indicating the possession of that strength which is never theaccompaniment of more perfect symmetry.
Although Daly's appearance unquestionably proclaimed his class inlife, the other exhibited no mark of deference or respect to him as heentered, but maintained his position with the same easy indifference asat first.
"You make yourself at home here, good friend, if one might judge fromthe way you knocked at the door," said he, addressing Daly with a lookwhose easy familiarity was itself an impertinence.
"I have yet to learn," said Daly, sternly, "that a gentleman mustpractise any peculiar ceremony when seeking the shelter of a 'shebeen,'not to speak of the right by which such as you address me as your goodfriend."
An insolent laugh, that Daly fancied was re-echoed by some one without,was the first reply to this speech; when, after a few minutes, the manadded, "I see you 're a stranger in these parts."
"If I had not been so, the chance is I should have taught you somewhatbetter manners before this time. Move aside, sir, and let me see thefire."
But the other never budged in the sligh
test, standing in the same easyposture as before.
Daly's dark face grew darker, and his heavy brows met in a deep frown,while, with a spring that showed no touch of time in his strong frame,he bounded forward and seized the man by the collar. Few men were Daly'sequals in point of strength; but although he with whom he now grappledmade no resistance whatever, Daly never stirred him from the spot, towhich he seemed fast and firmly rooted.
"Well, that's enough of it!" said the fellow, as with a rough jerk hefreed himself from the grasp, and sent Daly several paces back into theroom.
"Not so!" cried Daly, whose passion now boiled over, and, drawing apistol from his bosom, he levelled it at him. Quick as the motion was,the other was equally ready, for his hand now presented a similar weaponat Daly's head.
"Move aside, or--"
A coarse, insulting laugh drowned Daly's words, and he pulled thetrigger; but the pistol snapped without exploding.
"There it is, now," cried the fellow, rudely; "luck's against you, oldboy, so you 'd better keep yourself cool and easy;" and with these wordshe uncocked the weapon and replaced it in his bosom. Daly watched themoment, and with a bound placed himself beside him, when, bringinghis leg in front, he caught the man round the middle, and hurled himheadlong on the ground.
He fell as if he had been shot; but, rolling over, he leaned upon hiselbow and looked up, without the slightest sign of passion or evenexcitement on his features.
"I 'd know that trip in a thousand; begad, you 're Bagenal Daly, andnobody else!"
Although not a little surprised at the recognition, Daly suffered nosign of astonishment to escape him, but drew his chair to the fire, andstretched out his legs before the blaze. Meanwhile, the other, havingarisen, leaned over the back of a chair, and stared at him steadfastly.
"I am as glad as a hundred-pound note, now, you did n't provoke me tolay a hand on you, Mr. Daly," said he, slowly, and in a voice not devoidof a touch of feeling; "'t is n't often I bear malice, but I 'd neverforgive myself the longest day I 'd live."
Daly turned his eyes towards him, and, for some minutes, they continuedto look at each other without speaking.
"I see you don't remember me, sir," said the stranger, at length; "butI 've a better memory, and a better reason to have it besides: you savedmy life once."
"Saved your life!" repeated Daly, thoughtfully; "I 've not the slightestrecollection of ever having seen you before."
"It's all true I 'm telling, for all that," replied the other; "andalthough it happened above five-and-twenty years since, I'm not muchchanged, they tell me, in look or appearance." He paused at these words,as if to give Daly time to recognize him; but the effort seemed in vain,as, after along and patient scrutiny, Daly said, "No, I cannot rememberyou."
"Let me see, then," said the man, "if I can't refresh your memory. Wereyou in Dublin in the winter of '75?"
"Yes; I had a house in Stephen's Green--"
"And used to drive four black thoroughbreds without winkers?"
"It's clear that _you_ know me, at least," said Daly; "go on."
"Well, sir, do you remember, it was about a week before Christmas,that Captain Burke Fitzsimon was robbed of a pair of pistols in theguard-room of the Upper Castle Yard, in noonday, ay, and tied with hisown sash to the guard-bed?"
"By Jove! I do. He was regularly laughed out of the regiment."
"Faix, and many that laughed at him mightn't have behaved a deal betterthan he did," replied the other, with a dogged sternness in hismanner. He became silent after these words, and appeared deeply sunk inmeditation, when suddenly he drew two splendidly chased pistols fromhis bosom, and held them out to Daly as he said, "There they are, and asgood as they are handsome, true at thirty paces, and never fail."
Daly gazed alternately from the pistols to their owner, but neveruttered a word.
"That same day," resumed the man, "you were walking down the quay nearthe end of Watling Street, when there was a cry of 'Stop thief!--stophim!--a hundred guineas to the man that takes him!' and shortly aftera man crossed the quay, pursued closely by several people, one of them,and the foremost, being Tom Lambert, the constable, the strongest man,they said, of his day, in Ireland. The fellow that ran could beat themall, and was doing it too, when, just as he had gained Bloody Bridge,he saw a child on the pathway all covered with blood, and a bulldogstanding over him, worrying him--"
"I have it all," said Daly, interrupting him; "'tis as fresh before meas if it happened yesterday. The robber stopped to save the child, and,seizing the bulldog by the throat, hurled him over the wall into theLiffey. Lambert, as you call him, had by this time come close up, andwas within two yards of the man, when I, feeling compassion for a fellowthat could be generous at such a moment, laid my hand on the constable'sarm to stop him; he struck me; but if he did, he had his reward, forI threw him over the hip on the crown of his head, and he had a brainfever after it that almost brought him to death's door. And where wereyou all this time, and what were you doing?"
"I was down Barrack Street, across the park, and near Knockmaroon Gate,before they could find a door to stretch Tom Lambert on."
"You!" said Daly, staring at him; "why, it was Freney, they told me,performed that exploit for a wager."
"So it was, sir," said the man, standing up and crossing his arms, notwithout something of pride in his look,--"I'm Freney."
Daly arose and gazed at the man with all that curious scrutiny onebestows upon some remarkable object, measuring his strong, athleticframe with the eye of a connoisseur, and, as it were, calculating thephysical resources of so powerful a figure.
"You see, sir," said the robber, at last, "I was right when I told youthat you saved my life: there were thirteen indictments hanging over myhead that day, and if I 'd been taken they 'd have hanged me as round asa turnip."
"You owe it to yourself," said Daly; "had you not stopped for the child,it was just as likely that I 'd have tripped you up myself."
"'Tis a feeling I never could get over," said the robber; "'twas alittle boy, about the same age as that, that saved the Kells coach thenight I stopped it near Dangan. And now, sir, let me ask you what in theworld brought you into the village of Horseleap? For I am sure," addedhe with a laugh, "it was never to look after me."
"You are right there, friend; I'm on my way up to town to be present atthe debate in Parliament on the Union,--a question that has its interestfor yourself too."
"How so, sir?" said the other, curiously.
"Plainly enough, man; if they carry the Union, they'll not leave a manworth robbing in the island. You 'll have to take to an honest calling,Freney,--turn cattle-drover. By the way, they tell me you 're a goodjudge of a horse."
"Except yourself, there's not a better in the island; and if you 've noobjection, I 'll mount and keep you company as far as Maynooth, whereyou 'll easily get horses--and it will be broad daylight by thattime--to bring you into Dublin."
"I accept the offer willingly. I'll venture to say we shall not berobbed on the journey."
"Well, sir, the horses won't be here for an hour yet, and if you 'lljoin me in a bit of supper I was going to have when you came in, it willhelp to pass the time till we are ready to start."
Daly assented, not the less readily that he had not eaten anything sincemorning, and Freney left the room to hasten the preparations for themeal.
"Come, Freney," said Daly, as the other entered the room a few momentsafter, "was it the strength of conscious rectitude that made you standmy fire as you did a while ago, or did you think me so bad a marksman atfour paces?"
"Neither, sir," replied the robber, laughing; "I saw the pan of the lockhalf open as you drew it from your pocket, and I knew the priming musthave fallen out; but for that--"
"You had probably fired, yourself?"
"Just so," rejoined he, with a short nod. "I could have shot you beforeyou levelled at me. Now, sir, here's something far better than burningpowder. I am sure you are too old a traveller not to be able to eat arasher of
bacon."
"And this I take to be as free of any allegiance to the king asyourself," said Daly, as he poured out a wineglass-ful of "poteen" froma short black bottle.
"You 're right, sir," said Freney, with a laugh. "We 're both duty free.Let me help you to an egg."
"I never ate better bacon in my life," said Daly, who seemed to relishhis supper with considerable gusto.
"I'm glad you like it, sir. It is a notion of mine that Costy Moore ofKilcock cures a pig better than any man in this part of Ireland; andthough his shop is next the police-barracks, I went in there myself tobuy this."
Daly stared, with something of admiration in his look, at the man whoseepicurism was indulged at the hazard of his neck; and he pledged therobber with a motion of the head that betokened a high sense of hisdaring. "I've heard you have had some close escapes, Freney."
"I was never taken but once, sir. A woman hid my shoes when I wasasleep. I was at the foot of the Galtee mountains: the ground is hardand full of sharp shingle, and I could n't run. They brought me intoClonmel, and I was in the heaviest irons in the jail before two hourswere over. That's the strong jail, Mr. Daly; they 've the best walls andthe thickest doors there I have ever seen in any jail in Ireland. For,"added he, with a sly laugh, "I went over them all, in a friendly sort ofa way."
"A kind of professional tour, Freney?"
"Just so, sir; taking a bird's-eye view of the country from the drop,because, maybe, I would n't have time for it at another opportunity."
"You 're a hardened villain!" said Daly, looking at him with anexpression the robber felt to be a finished compliment.
"That's no lie, Mr. Daly; and if I wasn't, could I go on for twentyyears, hunted down like a wild beast, with fellows tracking me all day,and lying in watch for me all night? Where we are sitting now is theonly spot in the whole island where I can say I 'm safe. This is mybrother's cabin."
"Your brother is the same man that opened the door for me?"
Freney nodded, and went on: "He's a poor laboring man, with four acresof wet bog for a farm, and a young woman, in the ague, for a wife, andif it was n't for myself he 'd be starving; and would you believe it,now, he 'd not take to the road for one night--just one single night--tobe as rich as the Duke of Leinster; and here am I"--and, as he spoke,his chest expanded, and his dark eyes flashed wildly--"here am I, thatwould rather be on my black mare's back, with my holsters at thesaddle, watching the sounds of wheels on a lonely road, than I 'd be anygentleman in the land, barring your own self."
"And why me?" said Daly, in a voice whose melancholy cadence made itsolemn as a death-bell.
"Just because you 're the only man I ever heard tell of that was fond ofdanger for the fun of it. Did n't I see the leap you took at the BlackLough, just to show the English Lord-Lieutenant how an Irish gentlemanrides, with the rein in your mouth, and your hands behind your back?Isn't that true?"
Daly nodded, and muttered, "I have the old horse still."
"By the good day! I 'd spend a week in Newgate to see you on his back."
"Well, Freney," said Daly, who seemed not disposed to encouragea conversation so personal in its allusions, "where have you beenlately?--in the South?"
"No, sir; I spent the last fortnight watching an old fox that doubled onme at last,--old Hickman, of Loughrea, that used to be."
"Old Hickman!--what of him?" cried Daly, whose interest became at onceexcited by the mention of the name.
"I found out, sir, that he was to be down here at Kildare to receive hisrents,--for he owns a fine estate here,--and that, besides, Tom Gleeson,the great agent from Dublin, was to meet him, as some said, to pay hima large sum of money for the Knight of Gwynne,--some heavy debt, Ibelieve, owing for many a year."
"Yes, go on. What then?"
"Well. I knew the reason Hickman wanted the money here: Lord Tyrawleywas going to sell him a part of Gore's Wood, for hard cash--d 'yemind, sir, hard cash--down on the nail, for my Lord likes high play atDaly's--"
"D----n Lord Tyrawley!" said Daly, impatiently. "What of Hickman?"
"Well, d----n him too! He's a shabby negur. I stopped 'him at Ball'sBridge once, and got but three guineas and some shillings for my pains.But to come back to old Hickman: I found he had arrived at the 'BlackDog,' and that Gleeson had come the same evening, and so I disguisedmyself like an old farmer the next morning, and pretended I wantedhis advice about an asthma that I had, just to see the lie of the oldpremises, and whether he was alone, or had the two bailiffs with him,as usual. There they were, sir, sure enough, and well armed too, andfresh hasps on the door, to lock it inside, all secure as a bank. I sawthese things while the old doctor was writing the prescription, forhe tore a leaf out of his pocket-book to order me some stuff for thecough,--faith, 't is pills of another kind they 'd have given me if theyfound me out. That was all I got for my guinea in goold, not to speakof the danger;" and, so saying, he pulled a crumpled piece of paper fromhis pocket, and held it out towards Daly. "That's not it, sir; 't is theother side the writing is on."
But Daly's eyes were fixed upon the paper, which he held firmly betweenboth hands.
"Ay, I see what you are looking at," said Freney; "that was a kind ofmemorandum the old fellow made of the money Gleeson paid him the daybefore."
Daly paid no attention to the remark, but muttered half aloud thecontents of the document before him: "Check on Ball for eighteenthousand, payable at sight,--thirty-six thousand eight hundred andten pounds in notes of the Bank of England,--gold, seventeen hundredguineas."
"There was a lob," cried Freney, as he rubbed his hands together. "I wasset up for life if I got half of it! And now, Mr. Daly, just tell me onething: isn't Mr. Darcy there as bad as myself, to take all this moneyfor his vote?"
"How do you mean?" said Daly, sternly.
"I mean that a gentleman born and bred as he is, oughtn't to sell hiscountry for goold; that if a blackguard like myself takes to the road,it's all natural and reasonable, and the world's little worse off whenthey hang half a dozen of my kind; but for a real born gentleman of theold stock of the land to go and take money for his vote in Parliament!"
"And who dares to say he did so?" cried Daly, indignantly.
"Faix, that's the story up in Dublin; they say he 'd no other way ofclearing off the debts on his property. Bad cess to me if I 'd do it!Here I am, a robber and a highwayman, I don't deny it, but may I wearhemp for a handkerchief if I 'd sell my country. Bad luck to the Union,and all that votes for it," said he, as, filling a bumper of whiskey, hetossed it off to this laudable sentiment.
"If you had n't wronged my friend the Knight of Gwynne, I'm not certainthat I wouldn't have pledged your toast myself."
"If he 's a friend of yours I say nothing against him; but sure whenhe--"
"Once for all," said Daly, sternly, "this story is false;" while headded, in a low muttering to himself, "corruption must needs havespread widely when such a calumny was even ventured on.--And so, Freney,Hickman escaped you?"
"He did, sir," said Freney, sighing; "he made a lodgment in Kildare nextday, and more of the money he carried up to town, guarded all the wayby the two fellows I told you. Ah! Mr. Daly, if all the world was ascunning as old Peter, I might give up the road as a bad job. There! doyou hear that? Listen, sir."
"What is it?" said Daly, after a moment's silence.
"They're my nags, sir, coming up the road. I'd know their trot if Iheard it among a troop of dragoons. 'T is clippers they are."
As he spoke he arose from the table, and, lighting a small lantern healways carried with him, hastened to the door, where already the twohorses were standing, a bare-legged "gossoon" holding the bridles.
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"Well, Jemmy, what 's the news to-night?" said Freney.
"Nothing, sir, at all. I passed the down mail at Seery's Mill, and whenthe coachman heard the step of the horses, he laid on the wheelerswid all his might, and sat down on the footboard, and the two outsidepassengers lay flat as a pancake on the top when I pas
sed. I could n'thelp giving a screech out of me for fun, and the old guard let fly,and sent a ball through my 'caubeen;'" and as he said these words heexhibited his ragged felt hat, which, in addition to its other injuries,now displayed a round bullet-hole through either side.
"Serve you right," said Freney, harshly; "I wish he'd levelled threeinches lower. That young rascal, sir, keeps the whole road in a state ofalarm that stops all business on it." Then he added, in a whisper, "buthe never failed me in his life. I 've only to say when and where I wantthe horses, and I 'd lay my neck on it he's there."
Daly, who had been for some minutes examining the two horses by thelantern with all the skill of an adept, now turned the light full uponthe figure of the boy whose encomium was thus pronounced. The urchin,as if conscious that he was passing an inspection, set his tatteredhat jauntily on one side, and with one arm a-kimbo, and a leg advanced,stood the very perfection of ragged, self-sufficient rascality. Thoughat most not above fourteen years of age, and short in size even forthat, his features had the shrewd intelligence of manhood; a round,wide head, covered with dark red hair, projected over two eyes setwide apart, whose bad expression was ingeniously improved by a habit ofsquinting at pleasure,--a practice with which he now amused himself, asMr. Daly continued to stare at him. His nose, which a wound had partlyseparated from the forehead, was short and wide, leaving an unnaturallength to the lower part of the face, where an enormous mouth, garnishedwith large and regular teeth, was seen,--a feature that actually gave alook of ferocity even to a face so young.
"It's plain to see what destiny awaits that young scoundrel," said Daly,as he gazed almost sadly at the assemblage of bad passions so palpablydisplayed in his countenance.
"I 'd wager the young devil knows it himself, and can see the gallowseven now before him."
A wild burst of frantic laughter broke from the urchin as, in theexuberance of his merriment, he capered round Daly with gambols the moststrange and uncouth, and then, mimicking an air of self-admiration,he strutted past, while he broke into one of the slang ditties of theday:--
"With beauty and manners to plaze, I 'll seek a rich wife, and I 'll find her, And live like a Lord all my days, And sing, Tally-high-ho the Grinder!"
Freney actually screamed with laughter as he watched the mingledastonishment and horror depicted in Daly's face.
"That fellow's fate will lie heavily on your heart yet," said Daly, in avoice whose solemn tones at once arrested Freney's merriment, whilethe "gossoon," with increased animation and in a wilder strain, burstforth,--
"My Lord cheats at play like a rogue, And my Lady flings honor behind her; And why wold n't I be in vogue, And sing, Tally-high-ho the Grinder!"
"Come," said Daly, turning away, for, amid all his disgust, a sense ofthe ludicrous was stealing over him, and the temptation to laugh wasstruggling in him,--"come, let us be off; you have nothing to wait for,I suppose?"
"Nothing, sir; I'm ready this instant. Here, Jemmy, take thisportmanteau, and meet us outside of Maynooth, under the old castlewall."
"Stay," cried Daly, whose misgivings about the safe arrival of hisluggage would have made him prefer any other mode of transmission; "he'll scarcely be in time."
"Not in time! I wish I'd a bet of fifty guineas on it that he wouldnot visit every stable on the road, and know every traveller's name andbusiness, and yet be a good half hour before us. Off with you! Away!"
Diving under the two horses, the "gossoon" appeared at the other sideof the road, and then, with a wild spring in the air, and an unearthlyshout of laughter, he cleared the fence before him and disappeared,while as he went the strain of his slang song still floated in the air,and the refrain, "Tally-high-ho the Grinder," could be heard through thestillness of the night.
"Take the dark horse, sir; you 're heavier than me," said Freney, as heheld the stirrup.
"A clever hack, faith," said Daly, as he seated himself in the saddle,and gathered up the reins.
"And mounts you well," cried Freney, admiring both horse and rider oncemore by the light before he extinguished the lantern.
The storm had now considerably abated, and they rode on at a brisk pace,nor did they draw rein till the tall ruined castle of Maynooth could beseen, rearing its dark head against the murky sky.
"We part here," said Daly, who for some time had been lost in thought,"and I have nothing but thanks to offer you for this night's service,Freney; but if the time should come that I can do you a good turn--"
"I 'll never ask it, sir," said Freney, interrupting him.
"And why not? Are you too proud?"
"Not too proud to be under any obligation to you," said the robber,stopping him, "but too proud of the honor you did me this night bykeeping my company, ever to hurt your fame by letting the world know it.No, Mr. Daly, I knew your courage well; but this was the bravest thingever you did."
He sprang from his horse as he spoke, and gave a long, shrill whistle. Adeep silence followed, and he repeated the signal, and, soon after, thetramp of naked feet was heard on the road, and Jemmy advanced towardsthem at his ordinary sling trot.
"Take the trunk up to the town."
"No, no," said Daly, "I'll do that myself;" and he relieved the urchinof his burden, taking the opportunity to slip some crown-pieces into hiswilling hand while he did so.
"Good-bye, sir," said Freney, taking off his hat with courteousdeference.
"Good-bye, Freney," said Daly, as he seized the robber's hand and shookit warmly. "I 'll soon be shaking hands with twenty fellows not a whitmore honest," said Daly, as he looked after him through the gloom."Hang me if I don't think he's better company, too!" and with this veryflattering reflection on some parties unknown, he plodded along towardsthe town.
Here, again, new disappointment awaited him: a sudden summons had calledthe members of both political parties to the capital, and horses werenot to be had at any price.
"'T is the Lord's marciful providence left him only the one arm," saida waiter, as he ushered Daly into a sitting-room, and cast a glance ofmost meaning terror at the retiring figure of Sandy.
"What do you mean?" asked Daly, hastily.
"It's what he smashed the best chaise in the yard, as if it was ataycup, this morning. Mr. Tisdal ordered it to be ready at seveno'clock, to take him up to town, and, when it came to the door, upcomes that long fellow with his one arm, and says, 'This will do for mymaster,' says he, and cool and aisy he gets up into the chaise, and sitsdown, and when he was once there, by my conscience you might as well tryto drain the canal with a cullender as get him out again! We had a fightthat lasted nigh an hour, and signs on it, there's many a black eye inthe stable-yard to show for it; but he beat them all off, and kept hisground. 'Never mind,' said Mr. Tisdal, and he whispered a word to themaster; and what did they do, sir, but nailed him up fast in the chaise,and unharnessed the horses, put them to a jaunting-car, and started withMr. Tisdal before you could turn round."
"And Sandy," cried Daly, "what did he do?"
"Sandy?--av it's that you call him,--a divil a doubt but he's sandy andstony too,--he made a drive at the front panel wid one leg, and awayit went; and he smashed open the door with his fist; and put that shortstump of an arm through the wood as if it was cheese. 'T is a holyshow, the same chaise now! And when he got out, may I never spread atablecloth if you'd see a crayture in the street: they run in everydirection, as if it was the duke's bull was out of the paddock, and it'sonly a while ago he grew raysonable."
However little satisfactory the exploit was to the innkeeper and hishousehold, it seemed to sharpen Daly's enjoyment of his breakfast, andcompensate him for the delay to which he was condemned. The messengersent to seek for horses returned at last without them, and there was nowno alternative but to await, with such patience as he could muster, somechaise for town, and thus reach Dublin before nightfall.
A return chaise from Kilcock was at last secured, and Daly, with hisservant on the box, proceeded towards Dublin.
It was dark when they reached the capital, and drove with all the speedthey could accomplish to the Knight's house in Henrietta Street. Greatwas Daly's discomfort to learn that his friend Darcy had just drivenfrom the door.
"Where to?" said he, as he held his watch in his hand, as if consideringthe chances of still overtaking him.
"To a dinner-party, sir, at Lord Castlereagh's," said the servant.
"At Lord Castlereagh's!" And nothing but the presence of the manrepressed the passionate exclamation that quivered on his lip.
"Yes, sir, his Lordship and Mr. Heffernan called here--"
"Mr. Heffernan,--Mr. Con Heffernan do you mean?" interrupted he,quickly. "Ah! I have it now. And when was this visit?"
"On Monday last, sir."
"On Monday," said Daly to himself. "The very day the letter was writtento me: there's something in it, after all. Drive to Kildare Place, andas fast as you can," said he, aloud, as he sprang into the chaise.
The steps were up, the door banged to, the horses lashed into a gallop,and the next moment saw the chaise at the end of the street.
Short as the distance was,--scarcely a mile to Heffer-nan'shouse,--Daly's impatient anxiety made him think it an eternity. Hisobject was to reach the house before Heffernan started; for he judgedrightly that not only was the Secretary's dinner planned by that astutegentleman, but that its whole conduct and machinery rested on hisdexterity.
"I know the fellow well," muttered Daly,--"ay, and, by Heaven! he knows_me_. His mock candor and his counterfeit generosity have but abad chance with such men as myself; but Darcy's open, unsuspectingtemperament is the very metal he can weld and fashion to his liking."
It was in the midst of reflections like these, mingled with passionatebursts of impatience at the pace, which was, notwithstanding, a sharpgallop, that they dashed up to Heffer-nan's door. To make way for them,a chariot that stood there was obliged to move on.
"Whose carriage is this?" said Daly, as, without waiting for the stepsto be lowered, he sprang to the ground.
"Mr. Heffernan's, sir."
"He is at home, then?"
"Yes, sir; but just about to leave for a dinner-party."
"Stand by that chariot, Sandy, and take care that no one enters it tillI come back," whispered Daly in his servant's ear. And Sandy took up bispost at the door like a sentinel on duty. "Tell your master," saidDaly to the servant, who stood at the open hall-door, "that a gentlemandesires to speak with him."
"He's just going out, sir."
"Give my message," said Daly, sternly.
"With what name, sir?"
"Repeat the words as I have given them to you, and don't dictate to mehow I am to announce myself," said he, harshly, as he opened the doorand walked into the parlor.
Scarcely had he reached the fireplace when a bustle without proclaimedthat Heffernan was passing downstairs, and the confused sound of voiceswas heard as he and his servant spoke together. "Ah! very well," saidHeffernan, aloud; "you may tell the gentleman, John, that I can't seehim at present. I 've no notion of keeping dinner waiting half an hour."And so saying, he passed out to enter the carriage.
"Na, na," said Sandy, as the footman offered his arm to assist hismaster to mount the steps; "ye maun wait a wee. I trow ye hae no seen mymaster yet."
"What means this insolence? Who is this fellow?--push him aside."
"That's na sae easy to do," replied Sandy, gravely; "and though I haebut one arm, ye 'll no be proud of yer-sel 'gin you try the game."
"Who are you? By what right do you stop me here?" said Heffernan, who,contrary to his wont, was already in a passion.
"I'm Bagenal Daly's man; and there's himsel in the parlor, and he'lltell you mair, maybe."
The mention of that name seemed to act like a spell upon Heffernan, and,without waiting for another word, he turned back hastily, and re-enteredthe house. He stopped as he laid his hand on the handle of the door, andhis face, when the light fell on it, was pale as death; and although noother sign of agitation was perceptible, the expression of his featureswas very different from ordinary. The pause, brief as it was, seemedsufficient to rally him, for, opening the door with an appearanceof haste, he advanced towards Daly, and, with an outstretched hand,exclaimed,--
"My dear Mr. Daly, I little knew who it was I declined to see. They gaveme no name, and I was just stepping into my carriage when your servanttold me you were here. I need not tell you that I would not deny myselfto _you_."
"I believe not, sir," said Daly, with a strong emphasis on the words. "Ihave come a long journey to see and speak with you."
"May I ask it, as a great favor, that you will let our interview be forto-morrow morning? You may name your hour, or as many of them as youlike--or will you dine with me?"
"We 'll dine together to-day, sir," said Daly.
"That's impossible," said Heffernan, with a smile which all his tactcould not make an easy one. "I have been engaged for four days toLord Castlereagh,--a party which I had some share in assemblingtogether,--and, indeed, already I am five-and-twenty minutes late."
"I regret deeply, sir," said Daly, as, crossing his hands behind hisback, he slowly walked up and down the room,--"I regret deeply thatI must deprive the noble Secretary's dinner-party of so very gifted aguest. I know something of Mr. Heffernan's entertaining powers, and Ihave heard even more of them; but for all that, I must be unrelenting,and--"
"The thing is really impossible."
"You will dine with me to-day," was the cool answer of Daly, as, fixinghis eyes steadily on him, he uttered the words in a low, determinedtone.
"Once for all, sir--" said Heffernan, as he moved towards the door.
"Once for all," repeated Daly, "I will have my way. This is no piece ofcaprice,--no sudden outbreak of that eccentricity which you and othersaffect to fasten on me. No, Mr. Heffernan; I have come a hundred andfifty miles with an object, and not all the wily dexterity of even youshall balk me. To be plain, sir, there are reports current in the clubsand society generally that you have been the means of securing theKnight of Gwynne to the side of Government. I know--ay, and youknow--how many of these rumors originate on the shallow foundation ofmen being seen together in public, and cultivating an intimacy on purelysocial grounds. Now, Mr. Heffernan, Darcy's opinions, it is well known,are not those of the Ministry, and the only result of such calumnieswill be that he, the head of a family, and a country gentleman of thehighest rank, will be drawn into a dangerous altercation with some ofthose lounging puppies that circulate such slanders. I am his friend,and, as it happens, with no such ties to life and station as hepossesses. I will, if possible, place myself in a similar position, and,to do so, I know no readier road than by keeping your company. I willgive the gentlemen every pretext to talk of me as they have done of him;and if I hear a mutter, or if I see a signal that the most suspiciousnature can torture into an affront, I will teach the parties thatif they let their tongues run glibly, they at least shall keep theirhair-triggers in order. Now, sir, you 'll not only dine with me to-day,but you 'll do so in the large room of the Club. I 've given you myreasons, and I tell you flatly that I will hear nothing in opposition tothem; for I am quite ready to open the ball with Mr. Con Heffernan."
Heffernan's courage had been proved on more than one occasion; but,somehow, he had his own reasons, it would seem, for declining the gageof battle here. That they were valid ones would appear from the evidentstruggle compliance cost him, as, with a quivering lip and whisper, hesaid:
"There may be much force in what you say, Mr. Daly,--your motives,at least, are unquestionable. I will offer, therefore, no furtheropposition." So saying, he opened the door to permit Daly to pass out."To the Club," said he to the footman, as they both seated themselves inthe chariot.
"The Club, sir!" repeated the astonished servant.
"Yes, to Daly's Club," said Bagenal himself. And they drove off.
The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1 (of 2) Page 19