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

by Charles James Lever

  CHAPTER XXIV. THE DOCTOR'S LAST DEVICE.

  "Tell Mister Bob--Mr. O'Reilly I mean--to come to me," were the firstwords of old Dr. Hickman, as he awoke on the following morning.

  "Well, sir, how have you slept?" said his son, approaching the bedside,and taking a chair; "have you rested well?"

  "Middling,-only middling, Bob. The place is like a vault, and the ratshave it all their own way. They were capering about the whole night, andmade such a noise trying to steal off with one of my shoes." "Did theyventure that far?"

  "Ay, did they! but I couldn't let it go with them. I know you 're ina hurry to stand in them yourself, Bob, and leave me and the rats tosettle it between us--ay!" "Really, sir, these are jests---"

  "Too like earnest to be funny, Bob; so I feel them myself. Ugh! ugh!The damp of this place is freezing the very heart's blood of me. Howis Nalty this morning?" "Like a fellow taken off a wreck, sir, after aweek's starvation. He is sitting at the fire there, with two blanketsround him, and vows to heaven, every five minutes, that if he was onceback in Old Dominick Street, a thousand guineas would n't tempt him tosuch another expedition."

  The old doctor laughed till it made him cough, and when the fit wasover, laughed again, wiping his weeping eyes, and chuckling in the mostunearthly glee at the lawyer's discomfiture.

  "Wrapped up in blankets, eh, Bob?" said he, that he might hear furtherof his fellow-traveller's misery.

  O'Reilly saw that he had touched the right key, and expatiated for someminutes upon Nalty's sufferings, throwing out, from time to time, adroithints that only certain strong and hale constitutions could endureprivations like these. "Now, you, sir," continued he, "you look as muchyourself as ever; in fact, I half doubt how you are to play the sickman, with all these signs of rude health about you."

  "Leave that to me, Bob; I think I've seen enough of them things to knowthem now. When I 've carried my point, and all's safe and secure, you'll see me like the pope we read of, that looked all but dead till theyelected him, and then stood up stout and hearty five minutes after,--we'll have a miracle of this kind in our own family."

  "I suspect, sir, we shall have difficulty in obtaining an interview,"said O'Reilly.

  "No!" rejoined the old man, with a scarcely perceptible twinkle of hisfishy eyes.

  "Nalty 's of my opinion, and thinks that Lady Eleanor will positivelydecline it."

  "No," echoed he once more.

  "And that, without any suspicion of our plan, she will yet refuse toreceive you."

  "I 'm not going to ask her, Bob," croaked the old doctor, with a speciesof chuckling crow in his voice.

  "Then you have abandoned your intention," exclaimed O'Reilly, in dismay,"and the whole journey has been incurred for nothing."

  "No!" said the doctor, whose grim old features were lit up with a mostspiteful sense of his superior cunning.

  "Then I don't understand you,--that's clear," exclaimed O'Reilly,testily. "You say that you do not intend to call upon her--"

  "Because she's coming here to see me," cried the old man, in a screamof triumph; "read that, it's an answer to a note I sent off at eighto'clock. Joe waited and brought back this reply." As he spoke, he drewfrom beneath his pillow a small note, and handed it to his son. O'Reillyopened it with impatience, and read:--

  "Lady Eleanor Darcy begs to acknowledge the receipt of Dr. Hickman'snote, and, while greatly indisposed to accept of an interview whichmust be so painful to both parties without any reasonable prospect ofrendering service to either, feels reluctant to refuse a request madeunder circumstances so trying. She will therefore comply with Dr.Hickman's entreaty, and, to spare him the necessity of venturing abroadin this severe weather, will call upon him at twelve o'clock, should shenot learn in the meanwhile that the hour is inconvenient."

  "Lady Eleanor Darcy come out to call upon you, sir!" said O'Reilly, withan amazement in part simulated to flatter the old man's skill, but farmore really experienced. "This is indeed success."

  "Ay, you may well say so," chimed in the old man; "for besides thatI always look ten years older when I 'm in bed and unshaved, with mynightcap a little off,--this way,--the very sight of these miserablewalls, green with damp and mould, this broken window, and thepoverty-struck furniture, will all help, and I can get up a cough, if Ionly draw a long breath."

  "I vow, sir, you beat us all; we are mere children compared to you. Thisis a master-stroke of policy."

  "What will Nalty say now--eh, Bob?"

  "Say, sir? What can any one say, but that the move showed a master'shand, as much above our skill to accomplish as it was beyond our wit toconceive? I should like greatly to hear how you intend to play the gameout," said O'Reilly, throwing a most flattering expression of mingledcuriosity and astonishment into his features.

  "Wait till I see what trumps the adversary has in hand, Bob; time enoughto determine the lead when the cards are dealt."

  "I suppose I must keep out of sight, and perhaps Nalty also."

  "Nalty ought to be in the house if we want him; as my medical friend,he could assist to draw any little memorandum we might determine upon;a mere note, Bob, between friends, not requiring the interferenceof lawyers, eh?" There was something fiendish in the low laugh whichaccompanied these words. "What brings that fellow into the room sooften, putting turf on, and looking if the windows are fast? I don'tlike him, Bob." This was said in reference to a little chubby man, ina waiter's jacket, who really had taken every imaginable professionalprivilege to obtrude his presence.

  "There, there, that will do," said O'Reilly, harshly; "you needn't cometill we ring the bell."

  "Leave the turf-basket where it is. Don't you think we can mind the firefor ourselves?"

  "Let Joe wait, that will be better, sir," whispered O'Reilly; "we cannotbe too cautious here." And with a motion of the hand he dismissed thewaiter, who, true to his order, seemed never to hear "an aside."

  "Leave me by myself, Bob, for half an hour; I 'd like to collect mythoughts,--to settle and think over this meeting. It's past eleven now,and she said twelve o'clock in the note."

  "Well, I 'll take a stroll over the hills, and be back for dinner aboutthree; you'll be up by that time."

  "That will I, and very hungry too," muttered the old man. "This dyingscene has cost me the loss of my breakfast; and, faith, I 'm so weakand low, my head is quite dizzy. There 's an old saying, Mocking iscatching; and sure enough there may be some truth in it too."

  O'Reilly affected not to hear the remark, and moved towards the door,when he turned about and said,--

  "I should say, sir, that the wisest course would be to avoid anythinglike coercion, or the slightest approach to it. The more the appeal ismade to her feelings of compassion and pity--"

  "For great age and bodily infirmity," croaked the old man, while thefilmy orbs shot forth a flash of malicious intelligence.

  "Just so, sir. To others' eyes you do indeed seem weak and bowed downwith years. It is only they who have opportunity to recognize theclearness of your intellect and the correctness of your judgment can seehow little inroad time has made."

  "Ay, but it has, though," interposed the old man, irritably. "My handshakes more than it used to do; there 's many an operation I 'd not beable for as I once was."

  "Well, well, sir," said his son, who found it difficult to repress theannoyance he suffered from his continual reference to the old craft;"remember that you are not called upon now to perform these things."

  "Sorry I am it is so," rejoined the other. "I gave up seven hundred ayear when I left Loughrea to turn gentleman with you at Gwynne Abbey;and faith, the new trade isn't so profitable as the old one! So it is,"muttered he to himself; "and now there 's a set of young chaps come intothe town, with their medical halls, and great bottles of pink and bluewater in the windows! What chance would I have to go back again?"

  O'Reilly heard these half-uttered regrets in silence; he well knewthat the safest course was to let the feeble brain exhaust its scantymemories without impedim
ent. At length, when the old doctor seemed tohave wearied of the theme, he said,--

  "If she make allusion to the Dalys, sir, take care not to confess ourmistake about that cabin they called 'The Corvy,' and which you rememberwe discovered that Daly had settled upon his servant. Let Lady Eleanorsuppose that we withdrew proceedings out of respect to her."

  "I know, I know," said the old man, querulously, for his vanity waswounded by these reiterated instructions.

  "It is possible, too, sir, she 'd stand upon the question of rank; ifso, say that Heffernan--no, say that Lord Castlereagh will advise theking to confer the baronetcy on the marriage--don't forget that, sir--onthe marriage."

  "Indeed, then, I'll say nothing about it," said he, with an energyalmost startling. "It's that weary baronetcy cost me the loan toHeffernan on his own bare bond; I 'm well sick of it! Seven thousandpounds at five and a half per cent, and no security!"

  "I only thought, sir, it might be introduced incidentally," saidO'Reilly, endeavoring to calm down this unexpected burst of irritation.

  "I tell you I won't. If I'm bothered anymore about that same baronetcy,I 'll make a clause in my will against my heir accepting it How bad youare for the coronet with the two balls; faix, I remember when the familyarms had three of them; ay, and we sported them over the door, too. Eh,Bob, shall I tell her that?"

  "I don't suppose it would serve our cause much, sir," said O'Reilly,repressing with difficulty his swelling anger. Then, after a moment, headded, "I could never think of obtruding any advice of mine, sir, butthat I half feared you might, in the course of the interview, forgetmany minor circumstances, not to speak of the danger that your naturalkindliness might expose you to in any compact with a very artful womanof the world."

  "Don't be afraid of that anyhow, Bob," said he, with a most hideousgrin. "I keep a watchful eye over my natural kindliness, and, to saytruth, it has done me mighty little mischief up to this. There, now,leave me quiet and to myself."

  When the old man was left alone, his head fell slightly forward, and hishands, clasped together, rested on his breast. His eyes, half closed anddowncast, and his scarcely heaving chest, seemed barely to denote life,or at most that species of life in which the senses are steeped inapathy. The grim, hard features, stiffened by years and a stern nature,never moved; the thin, close-drawn lips never once opened; and to anyobserver the figure might have seemed a lifeless counterfeit of old age.And yet within that brain, fast yielding to time and infirmity, wherereason came and went like the flame of some flickering taper, and wherememory brought up objects of dreamy fancy as often as bygone events,even there plot and intrigue held their ground, and all the machinery ofdeception was at work, suggesting, contriving, and devising wiles thatin their complexity were too puzzling for the faculties that originatedthem. Is there a Nemesis in this, and do the passions by which we haveswayed and controlled others rise up before us in our weak hours, andbecome the tyrants of our terror-stricken hearts?

  It is not our task, were it even in our power, to trace the strangecommingled web of reality and fiction that composed the old man'sthoughts. At one time he believed he was supplicating the Knightto accord him some slight favor, as he had done more than oncesuccessfully. Then he suddenly remembered their relative stations, sostrangely reversed; the colossal fortune he had himself accumulated; thehopes and ambitions of his son and grandson, whose only impediments torank and favor lay in himself, the humble origin of all this wealth. Howstrange and novel did the conviction strike him that all the benefit ofhis vast riches lay in the pleasure of their accumulation, that for himfortune had no seductions to offer! Rank, power, munificence, what werethey? He never cared for them.

  No; it was the game he loved even more than the stake, that tortuouscourse of policy by which he had outwitted this man and doubled on that.The schemes skilfully conducted, the plots artfully accomplished,--thesehe loved to think over; and while he grieved to reflect upon thereckless waste he witnessed in the household of his sou, he felt asecret thrill of delight that he, and he alone, was capable of thoserare devices and bold expedients by which such a fortune couldbe amassed. Once and only once did any expression of his featuressympathize with these ponderings; and then a low, harsh laugh brokesuddenly from him, so fleeting that it failed to arouse even himself. Itcame from the thought that if after his death his son or grandson wouldendeavor to forget his memory, and have it forgotten by others, thatevery effort of display, every new evidence of their gorgeous wealth,would as certainly evoke the criticism of the envious world, who, inspite of them, would bring up the "old doctor" once more, and, by thenarrative of his life, humble them to the dust.

  This desire to bring down to a level with himself those around him hadbeen the passion of his existence. For this he had toiled and labored,and struggled through imaginary poverty when possessed of wealth; hadendured scoffs and taunts,--had borne everything,--and to this desirecould be traced his whole feeling towards the Darcys. It was nohappiness to him to be the owner of their princely estate if he didnot revel in the reflection that they were in poverty. And this enviousfeeling he extended to his very son. If now and then a vague thoughtof the object of his present journey crossed his mind, it was speedilyforgotten in the all-absorbing delight of seeing the proud LadyEleanor humbled before him, and the inevitable affliction the Knightwould experience when he learned the success of this last device. Thatit would succeed he had little doubt; he had come too well prepared witharguments to dread failure. Nay, he thought, he believed he could compelcompliance if such were to be needed.

  It was in the very midst of these strangely confused musings that thedoctor's servant announced to him the arrival of Lady Eleanor Darey.The old man looked around him on the miserable furniture, the damp,discolored walls, the patched and mended window-panes, and for a momenthe could not imagine where he was; the repetition of the servant'sannouncement, however, cleared away the cloud from his faculties, andwith a slight gesture of his hand he made a sign that she should beadmitted. A momentary pause ensued, and he could hear his servantexpressing a hope that her Ladyship might not catch cold, as thesnow-drift was falling heavily, and the storm very severe. A delay of afew minutes was caused to remove her wet cloak. What a whole story didthese two or three seconds reveal to old Hickman as he thought of thatLady Eleanor Darey of whose fastidious elegance the whole "West" wasfull, whose expensive habits and luxurious tastes had invested her withsomething like an Oriental reputation for magnificence,--of her comingon foot and alone, through storm and snow, to wait upon him!

  He listened eagerly; her footstep was on the stairs, and he heard a lowsigh she gave, as, reaching the landing-place, she stood for a moment torecover breath.

  "Say Lady Eleanor Darey," said she, unaware that her coming had beenalready telegraphed to the sick man's chamber.

  A faint complaining cry issued from the room as she spoke, and LadyEleanor said: "Stay! Perhaps Dr. Hickman is too ill; if so, at anothertime. I 'll come this evening or to-morrow."

  "My master is most impatient to see your Ladyship," said the man. "Hehas talked of nothing else all the morning, and is always asking if itis nigh twelve o'clock."

  Lady Eleanor nodded as if to concede her permission, and the servantentered the half-darkened room. A weak, murmuring sound of voicesfollowed; and the servant returned, saying, in a cautious whisper, "Heis awake, my Lady, and wishes to see your Ladyship now."

  Lady Eleanor's heart beat loudly and painfully; many a sharp pang shotthrough it, as, with a strong effort to seem calm, she entered.