The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 2 (of 2)

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XIII. AN UNCEREMONIOUS VISIT

  As winter drew near, with its dark and leaden skies, and days and nightsof storm and hurricane, so did the worldly prospect of Lady Eleanor andher daughter grow hourly more gloomy. Bicknell's letters detailed newdifficulties and embarrassments on every hand. Sums of money supposed tohave been long since paid and acknowledged by Gleeson, were now demandedwith all the accruing interest; rights hitherto unquestioned were nowthreatened with dispute, as Hickman O'Reilly's success emboldened othersto try their fortune. Of the little property that still remained tothem, the rents were withheld until their claim to them should be oncemore established by law. Disaster followed disaster, till at length thelast drop filled up the measure of their misery, as they learned thatthe Knight's personal liberty was at stake, and more than one writ wasissued for his arrest.

  The same post that brought this dreadful intelligence brought also a fewlines from Darcy, the first that had reached them since his departure.

  His note was dated from the "'Hermione' frigate, off the Needles," andcontained little more than an affectionate farewell. He wrote in health,and apparently in spirits, full of the assurance of a speedy and happymeeting; nor was there any allusion to their embarrassments, save inthe vague mention of a letter he had written to Bicknell, and who wouldhimself write to Lady Eleanor.

  "It is not, dearest Eleanor," wrote he, "the time we would have selectedfor a separation, when troubles thicken around us; yet who knows if theincident may not fall happily, and turn our thoughts from the loss offortune to the many blessings we enjoy in mutual affection and in ourchildren's love, all to thicken around us at our meeting? I confess,too, I have a pride in being thought worthy to serve my country still,not in the tiresome monotony of a depot, but in the field,--among theyoung, the gallant, and the brave! Is it not enough to take off halfthis load of years, and make me fancy myself the gay colonel you mayremember cantering beside your carriage in the Park--I shame to say howlong ago! I wonder what the French will think of us, for nearly everyofficer in command might be superannuated, and Abercrombie is asvenerable in white hairs as myself! There are, however, plenty of youngand dashing fellows to replace us, and the spirit of the whole army isadmirable.

  "Whither we are destined, what will be our collective force, and whatthe nature of the expedition, are profound secrets, with which even thegenerals of brigades are not intrusted; so that all I can tell you is,that some seven hundred and fifty of us are now sailing southward, undera steady breeze from the north-northwest; that the land is each momentgrowing fainter to my eyes, while the pilot is eagerly pressing me toconclude this last expression of my love to yourself and dearest Helen.Adieu.

  "Ever yours,

  "Maurice Darcy."

  As with eyes half dimmed by tears Lady Eleanor read these lines, shecould not help muttering a thanksgiving that her husband was at leastbeyond the risk of that danger of which Bicknell spoke,--an indignity,she feared, he never could have survived.

  "And better still," cried Helen, "if a season of struggle and privationawaits us, that we should bear it alone,' and not before _his_ eyes, forwhom such a prospect would be torture. Now let us see how to meet theevil." So saying, she once more opened Bicknell's letter, and began toperuse it carefully; while Lady Eleanor sat, pale and in silence, noreven by a gesture showing any consciousness of the scene.

  "What miserable trifling do all these legal subtleties seem!" said theyoung girl, after she had read for some time; "how trying to patienceto canvass the petty details by which a clear and honest cause mustbe asserted! Here are fees to counsel, briefs, statements, learnedopinions, and wise consultations multiplied to show that we are therightful owners of what our ancestors have held for centuries,while every step of usurpation by these Hickmans would appear almostunassailable. With what intensity of purpose, too, does that familypersecute us! All these actions are instituted by them; these bonds areall in their hands. What means this hate?"

  Lady Eleanor looked up; and as her eyes met Helen's, a faint flushcolored her cheek, for she thought of her interview with the old doctor,and that proposal by which their conflicting interests were to besatisfied.

  "We surely never injured them," resumed the young girl, eagerly; "theywere always well and hospitably received by us. Lionel even likedBeecham, when they were boys together,-a mild and quiet youth he was."

  "So I thought him, too," said Lady Eleanor, stealing a cautious glanceat her daughter. "We saw them," continued she, more boldly, "undercircumstances of no common difficulty,--struggling under theembarrassment of a false social position, with such a grandfather!"

  "And such a father! Nay, mamma, of the two you must confess the doctorwas our favorite. The old man's selfishness was not half so vulgar ashis son's ambition."

  "And yet, Helen," said Lady Eleanor, calmly, "such are the essentialtransitions by which families are formed; wealthy in one generation,aspiring in the next, recognized gentry--mayhap titled--in the third.It is but rarely that the whole series unfolds itself before our eyes atonce, as in the present instance, and consequently it is but rarely thatwe detect so palpably all its incongruities and absurdities. A fewyears more," added she, with a deep sigh, "and these O'Reillys will beregarded as the rightful owners of Gwynne Abbey by centuries of descent;and if an antiquary detect the old leopards of the Darcys frowning fromsome sculptured keystone, it will be to weave an ingenious theory ofintermarriage between the houses."

  "An indignity they might well have spared us," said Helen, proudly.

  "Such are the world's changes," continued Lady Eleanor, pursuing herown train of thought. "How very few remember the origin of our proudesthouses, and how little does it matter whether the foundations have beenlaid by the rude courage of some lawless baron of the tenth century, orthe crafty shrewdness of some Hickman O'Reilly of the nineteenth!"

  If there was a tone of bitter mockery in Lady Eleanor's words, there wasalso a secret meaning which, even to her own heart, she would nothave ventured to avow. By one of those strange and most inexplicablemysteries of our nature, she was endeavoring to elicit from her daughtersome expression of dissent to her own recorded opinion of the O'Reillysand seeking for some chance word which might show that Helen regardedan alliance with that family with more tolerant feelings than she didherself.

  Her intentions on this head were uot destined to be successful. Helen'sprejudices on the score of birth and station were rather strengthenedthan shaken by the changes of fortune; she cherished the prestige oftheir good blood as a source of proud consolation that no adversitycould detract from. Before, however, she could reply, the tramp of ahorse's feet--a most unusual sound--was heard on the gravel without; andimmediately after the heavy foot of some one, as if feeling his way inthe dark towards the door. Without actual fear, but not without intenseanxiety, both mother and daughter heard the heavy knocking of a loadedhorsewhip on the door; nor was it until old Tate had twice repeated hisquestion that a sign replied he might open the door.

  "Look to the pony there!" cried a voice, as the old man peered out intothe dark night. And before he could reply or resist, the speaker pushedpast him and entered the room. "I crave your pardon, my Lady Eleanor,"said she,--for it was Miss Daly, who, drenched with rain and allsplashed with mud, now stood before them,--"I crave your pardon for thisvisit of so scant ceremony. Has the Knight returned yet?"

  The strong resemblance to her brother Bagenal, increased by her gestureand the tones of her voice, at once proclaimed to Lady Eleanor who hervisitor was; and as she rose graciously to receive her, she replied that"the Knight, so far from having returned, had already sailed with theexpedition under General Abercrombie."

  Miss Daly listened with breathless eagerness to the words, and as theyconcluded, she exclaimed aloud, "Thank God!" and threw herself intoa chair. A pause, which, if brief, was not devoid of embarrassment,followed; and while Lady Eleanor was about to break it, Miss Daly againspoke, but with a voice and manner very different from before: "You willpardon
, I am certain, the rudeness of my intrusion, Lady Eleanor, andyou, too, Miss Darcy, when I tell you that my heart was too full ofanxiety to leave any room for courtesy. It was only this afternoon thatan accident informed me that a person had arrived in this neighborhoodwith a writ to arrest the Knight of Gwynne. I was five-and-twentymiles from this when I heard the news, and although I commissioned myinformant to hasten thither with the tidings, I grew too full of dread,and had too many fears of a mischance, to await the result, so that Iresolved to come myself."

  "How full of kindness!" exclaimed Lady Eleanor, while Helen took MissDaly's hand and pressed it to her lips. "Let our benefactress not suffertoo much in our cause. Helen, dearest, assist Miss Daly to a change ofdress. You are actually wet through."

  "Nay, nay, Lady Eleanor, you must not teach me fastidiousness. It hasbeen my custom for many a year not to care for weather, and in the kindof life I lead such training is indispensable." Miss Daly removed herhat as she spoke, and, pushing back her dripping hair, seemed reallyinsensible to the discomforts which caused her hosts so much uneasiness.

  "I see clearly," resumed she, laughing, "I was right in notmaking myself known to you before; for though you may forgive theeccentricities that come under the mask of good intentions, you 'dnever pardon the thousand offences against good breeding and the world'sprescription which spring from the wayward fancies of an old maid whohas lived so much beyond the pale of affection she has forgotten all thearts that win it."

  "If you are unjust to yourself, Miss Daly, pray be not so to us; northink that we can be insensible to friendship like yours."

  "Oh, as for this trifling service, you esteem it far too highly;besides, when you hear the story, you'll see how much more you have tothank your own hospitality than my promptitude."

  "This is, indeed, puzzling me," exclaimed Lady Eleanor.

  "Do you remember having met and received at your house a certain Mr.Dempsey?"

  "Certainly, he dined with us on one occasion, and paid us some three orfour visits. A tiresome little vulgar man, with a most intense curiositydevouring him to know everything of everybody."

  "To this gift, or infirmity, whichever it be, we are now indebted. Sincethe breaking-up of the boarding-house at Port Ballintray, which thisyear was somewhat earlier than usual,"--here Miss Daly smiled slightly,as though there lay more in the words than they seemed to imply,--"Mr.Dempsey betook himself to a little village near Glenarm, where I havebeen staying, and where the chief recommendation as a residence laypossibly in the fact that the weekly mail-car to Derry changed horsesthere. Hence an opportunity of communing with the world he valued atits just price. It so chanced that the only traveller who came for threeweeks, arrived the night before last, drenched to the skin, and so illfrom cold, hunger, and exhaustion that, unable to prosecute his journeyfarther, he was carried from the car to his bed. Mr. Dempsey, whoseheart is really as kind as inquisitive, at once tendered his services tothe stranger, who after some brief intercourse commissioned him to openhis portmanteau, and taking out writing-materials, to inform his friendsin Dublin of his sudden indisposition, and his fears that his illnessmight delay, or perhaps render totally abortive, his mission to thenorth. Here was a most provoking mystery for Mr. Dempsey. The veryallusion to a matter of importance, in this dubious half-light, wassomething more than human nature should be tried with; and if thepatient burned with the fever of the body, Mr. Dempsey suffered underthe less tolerable agony of mental torment,--imagining everypossible contingency that should bring a stranger down into a lonelyneighborhood, and canvassing every imaginable inducement, from seductionto highway robbery. Whether the sick man's sleep was merely the heavydebt of exhausted nature, or whether Mr. Dempsey aided his repose byadding a few drops to the laudanum prescribed by the doctor, true it is,he lay in a deep slumber, and never awoke till late the followingday; meanwhile Mr. Dempsey recompensed his Samaritanism by a carefulinspection of the stranger's trunk and its contents, and, in particular,made a patient examination of two parchment documents, which,fortunately for his curiosity, were not sealed, but simply tied with redtape.

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  Great was his surprise to discover that one of these was a writ toarrest a certain Paul Dempsey, and the other directed against theresident of 'The Corvy,' whom he now, for the first time, learned wasthe Knight of Gwynne.

  "Self-interest, the very instinct of safety itself, weighed less withhim than his old passion for gossip; and no sooner had he learned theimportant fact of who his neighbor was, than he set off straight tocommunicate the news to me. I must do him the justice to say, that whenI proposed his hastening off to you with the tidings, the little manacceded with the utmost promptitude; but as his journey was to beperformed on foot, and by certain mountain paths not always easilydiscovered in our misty climate, it is probable he could not reach thisfor some hours."

  When Miss Daly concluded, Lady Eleanor and her daughter renewed theirgrateful acknowledgments for her thoughtful kindness. "These are sadthemes by which to open our acquaintance," said Lady Eleanor; "but itis among the prerogatives of friendship to share the pressure ofmisfortune, and Mr. Daly's sister can be no stranger to ours."

  "Nor how undeserved they were," added Miss Daly, gravely.

  "Nay, which of us can dare say so much?" interrupted Lady Eleanor; "wemay well have forgotten ourselves in that long career of prosperitywe enjoyed,--for ours was, indeed, a happy lot! I need not speak ofmy husband to one who knew him once so well. Generous, frank, andnoble-hearted as he always was,-his only failing the excessiveconfidence that would go on believing in the honesty of others, from theprompting of a spirit that stooped to nothing low or unworthy,--he neverknew suspicion." "True," echoed Miss Daly, "he never did suspect!" Therewas such a plaintive sadness in her voice that it drew Helen's eyestowards her; nor could all her efforts conceal a tear that trickledalong her cheek.

  "And to what an alternative are we now reduced!" continued Lady Eleanor,who, with all the selfishness of sorrow, loved to linger on the painfultheme,--"to rejoice at separation, and to feel relieved in thinking thathe is gone to peril life itself rather than endure the lingering deathof a broken heart!"

  "Yes, young lady," said Miss Daly, turning towards Helen, "such arethe recompenses of the most endearing affection, such the penalties ofloving. Would you not almost say, 'It were better to be such as I am,unloved, uncared for, without one to share a joy or grief with?' I halfthink so myself," added she, suddenly rising from her chair. "I canalmost persuade myself that this load of life is easier borne when allits pressure is one's own."

  "You are not about to leave us?" said Lady Eleanor, taking her handaffectionately.

  "Yes," replied she, smiling sadly, "when my heart has disburdened itselfof an immediate care, I become but sorry company, and sometimes thinkaloud. How fortunate I have no secrets!--Bring my pony to the door,"said she, as Tate answered the summons of the bell.

  "But wait at least for daylight," said Helen, eagerly; "the storm isincreasing, and the night is dark and starless. Remember what a road you've come."

  "I often ride at this hour and with no better weather," said she,adjusting the folds of her habit; "and as to the road, Puck knows it toowell to wander from the track, daylight or dark."

  "For our sakes, I entreat you not to venture till morning," cried LadyEleanor.

  "I could not if I would," said Miss Daly, steadily. "By to-morrow, atnoon, I have an engagement at some distance hence, and much to arrangein the mean time. Pray do not ask me again. I cannot bear to refuseyou, even in such a trifle; and as to me or my safety, waste not anotherthought about it. They who have so little to live for are wondroussecure from accident."

  "When shall we see you? Soon, I hope and trust!" exclaimed both motherand daughter together.

  Miss Daly shook her head; then added hastily, "I never promise anything.I was a great castle-builder once, but time has cured me of the habit,and I do not like, even by a pledge, to forestall the morrow. Farewell,Lady Eleanor. It is better to se
e but little of me, and think thebetter, than grow weary of my waywardness on nearer acquaintance. Adieu,Miss Darcy; I am glad to have seen you; don't forget me." So saying, shepressed Helen's hands to her lips; but ere she let them drop, shesqueezed a letter into her grasp; the moment after, she was gone.

  "Oh, then, I remember her the beauty wonst!" said Tate, as he closed thedoor, after peering out for some seconds into the dark night: "andproud she was too,--riding a white Arabian, with two servants inscarlet liveries after her! The world has quare changes; but hers is thegreatest ever I knew!"