The Absentee

by Maria Edgeworth

  'No, sir, you are not an insulated being,' said Lord Colambre 'you have a near relation, who will, who must be dear to you; who will make you amends for all you have lost, all you have suffered—who will bring peace and joy to your heart. You have a grand-daughter.'

  'No, sir; I have no grand-daughter,' said old Reynolds, his face and whole form becoming rigid with the expression of obstinacy. 'Rather have no descendant than be forced to acknowledge an illegitimate child.'

  'My lord, I entreat as a friend—I command you to be patient,' said the count, who saw Lord Colambre's indignation suddenly rise.

  'So, then, this is the purpose of your visit,' continued old Reynolds; 'and you come from my enemies, from the St. Omars, and you are in a league with them,' continued old Reynolds; 'and all this time it is of my eldest son you have been talking.'

  'Yes, sir,' replied the count; 'of Captain Reynolds, who fell in battle, in the Austrian service, about nineteen years ago—a more gallant and amiable youth never lived.'

  Pleasure revived through the dull look of obstinacy in the father's eyes.

  'He was, as you say, sir, a gallant, an amiable youth, once and he was my pride, and I loved him, too, once but did not you know I had another?'

  'No, sir, we did not—we are, you may perceive, totally ignorant of your family and of your affairs we have no connexion whatever or knowledge of any of the St. Omars.'

  'I detest the sound of the name,' cried Lord Colambre.

  'Oh, good! good!—Well! well! I beg your pardon, gentlemen, a thousand times—I am a hasty, very hasty old man; but I have been harassed, persecuted, hunted by wretches, who got a scent of my gold; often in my rage I longed to throw my treasure-bags to my pursuers, and bid them leave me to die in peace. You have feelings, I see, both of you, gentlemen; excuse me, and bear with my temper.'

  'Bear with you! Much enforced, the best tempers will emit a hasty spark,' said the count, looking at Lord Colambre, who was now cool again; and who, with a countenance full of compassion, sat with his eyes fixed upon the poor—no, not the poor, but the unhappy old man.

  'Yes, I had another son,' continued Mr. Reynolds, 'and on him all my affections concentrated when I lost my eldest, and for him I desired to preserve the estate which his mother brought into my family. Since you know nothing of my affairs, let me explain to you; that estate was so settled, that it would have gone to the child, even the daughter of my eldest son, if there had been a legitimate child. But I knew there was no marriage, and I held out firm to my opinion. "If there was a marriage," said I, "show me the marriage certificate, and I will acknowledge the marriage, and acknowledge the child;" but they could not, and I knew they could not; and I kept the estate for my darling boy,' cried the old gentleman, with the exultation of successful positiveness again appearing strong in his physiognomy; but suddenly changing and relaxing, his countenance fell, and he added, 'But now I have no darling boy. What use all!—all must go to the heir-at-law, or I must will it to a stranger—a lady of quality, who has just found out she is my relation—God knows how—I'm no genealogist—and sends me Irish cheese and Iceland moss, for my breakfast, and her waiting-gentlewoman to namby-pamby me. Oh, I'm sick of it all—see through it—wish I was blind—wish I had a hiding-place, where flatterers could not find me—pursued, chased—must change my lodgings again to-morrow—will, will—I beg your pardon, gentlemen, again; you were going to tell me, sir, something more of my eldest son; and how I was led away from the subject, I don't know; but I meant only to have assured you that his memory was dear to me, till I was so tormented about that unfortunate affair of his pretended marriage, that at length I hated to hear him named; but the heir-at-law, at last, will triumph over me.'

  'No, my good sir, not if you triumph over yourself, and do justice,' cried Lord Colambre; 'if you listen to the truth, which my friend will tell you, and if you will read and believe the confirmation of it, under your son's own hand, in this packet.'

  'His own hand indeed! His seal unbroken. But how—when where—why was it kept so long, and how came it into your hands?'

  Count O'Halloran told Mr. Reynolds that the packet had been given to him by Captain Reynolds on his deathbed; related the dying acknowledgment which Captain Reynolds had made of his marriage; and gave an account of the delivery of the packet to the ambassador, who had promised to transmit it faithfully. Lord Colambre told the manner in which it had been mislaid, and at last recovered from among the deceased ambassador's papers. The father still gazed at the direction, and re-examined the seals.

  'My son's handwriting—my son's seals! But where is the certificate of the marriage?' repeated he; 'if it is withinside of this packet, I have done great IN—but I am convinced it never was a marriage. 'Yet I wish now it could be proved—only, in that case, I have for years done great—'

  'Won't you open the packet, sir?' said Lord Colambre. Mr. Reynolds looked up at him with a look that said, 'I don't clearly know what interest you have in all this.' But, unable to speak, and his hands trembling so that he could scarcely break the seals, he tore off the cover, laid the papers before him, sat down, and took breath. Lord Colambre, however impatient, had now too much humanity to hurry the old gentleman; he only ran for the spectacles, which he espied on the chimney-piece, rubbed them bright, and held them ready. Mr. Reynolds stretched his hand out for them, put them on, and the first paper he opened was the certificate of the marriage; he read it aloud, and, putting it down, said—

  'Now I acknowledge the marriage. I always said, if there is a marriage there must be a certificate. And you see now there is a certificate I acknowledge the marriage.'

  'And now,' cried Lord Colambre, 'I am happy, positively happy. Acknowledge your grand-daughter, sir—acknowledge Miss Nugent.'

  'Acknowledge who, sir?'

  'Acknowledge Miss Reynolds—your grand-daughter; I ask no more—do what you will with your fortune.'

  'Oh, now I understand—I begin to understand this young gentleman is in love—but where is my grand-daughter?—how shall I know she is my grand-daughter? I have not heard of her since she was an infant—I forgot her existence—I have done her great injustice.'

  'She knows nothing of it, sir,' said Lord Colambre, who now entered into a full explanation of Miss Nugent's history, and of her connexion with his family, and of his own attachment to her; concluding the whole by assuring Mr. Reynolds that his grand-daughter had every virtue under heaven. 'And as to your fortune, sir, I know that she will, as I do, say—'

  'No matter what she will say,' interrupted old Reynolds; 'where is she? When I see her, I shall hear what she says. Tell me where she is let me see her. I long to see whether there is any likeness to her poor father. Where is she? Let me see her immediately.'

  'She is one hundred and sixty miles off, sir, at Buxton.'

  'Well, my lord, and what is a hundred and sixty miles? I suppose you think I can't stir from my chair, but you are mistaken. I think nothing of a journey of a hundred and sixty miles—I'm ready to set off to-morrow—this instant.'

  Lord Colambre said, that he was sure Miss Reynolds would obey her grandfather's slightest summons, as it was her duty to do, and would be with him as soon as possible, if this would be more agreeable to him. 'I will write to her instantly,' said his lordship, 'if you will commission me.'

  'No, my lord, I do not commission—I will go—I think nothing, I say, of a journey of a hundred and sixty miles—I'll go—and set out to-morrow morning.'

  Lord Colambre and the count, perfectly satisfied with the result of their visit, now thought it best to leave old Reynolds at liberty to rest himself, after so many strong and varied feelings. They paid their parting compliments, settled the time for the next day's journey, and were just going to quit the room when Lord Colambre heard in the passage a well-known voice the voice of Mrs. Petito.

  'Oh no, my compliments, and my Lady Dashfort's best compliments, and I will call again.'

  'No, no,' cried old Reynolds, pulling his bell; 'I'll have
no calling again—I'll be hanged if I do! Let her in now, and I'll see her—Jack! let in that woman now or never.'

  'The lady's gone, sir, out of the street door.'

  'After her, then—now or never, tell her.'

  'Sir, she was in a hackney coach.'

  Old Reynolds jumped up, and went to the window himself, and, seeing the hackney coachman just turning beckoned at the window, and Mrs. Petito was set down again, and ushered in by Jack, who announced her as—

  'The lady, sir.' The only lady he had seen in that house.

  'My dear Mr. Reynolds, I'm so obliged to you for letting me in,' cried Mrs. Petito, adjusting her shawl in the passage, and speaking in a voice and manner well mimicked after her betters. 'You are so very good and kind, and I am so much obliged to you.'

  'You are not obliged to me, and I am neither good nor kind,' said old Reynolds.

  'You strange man,' said Mrs. Petito, advancing graceful in shawl drapery; but she stopped short. 'My Lord Colambre and Count O'Halloran, as I hope to be saved!'

  'I did not know Mrs. Petito was an acquaintance of yours, gentlemen,' said Mr. Reynolds, smiling shrewdly.

  Count O'Halloran was too polite to deny his acquaintance with a lady who challenged it by thus naming him; but he had not the slightest recollection of her, though it seems he had met her on the stairs when he visited Lady Dashfort at Killpatrickstown. Lord Colambre was 'indeed UNDENIABLY AN OLD AQUAINTANCE:' and as soon as she had recovered from her first natural start and vulgar exclamation, she with very easy familiarity hoped 'My Lady Clonbrony, and my lord, and Miss Nugent, and all her friends in the family, were well;' and said, 'she did not know whether she was to congratulate his lordship or not upon Miss Broadhurst, my Lady Berryl's marriage, but she should soon have to hope for his lordship's congratulations for another marriage in HER present family—lady Isabel to Colonel Heathcock, who has come in for a large portion, and they are buying the wedding clothes—sights of clothes—and the di'monds, this day; and Lady Dashfort and my Lady Isabel sent me especially, sir, to you, Mr. Reynolds, and to tell you, sir, before anybody else; and to hope the cheese COME safe up again at last; and to ask whether the Iceland moss agrees with your chocolate, and is palatable; it's the most DILUENT thing upon the universal earth, and the most TONIC and fashionable—the DUTCHES of Torcaster takes it always for breakfast, and Lady St. James' too is quite a convert, and I hear the Duke of V—takes it too.'

  'And the devil may take it too, for anything that I care,' said old Reynolds.

  'Oh, my dear, dear sir! you are so refractory a patient.'

  'I am no patient at all, ma'am, and have no patience either; I am as well as you are, or my Lady Dashfort either, and hope, God willing, long to continue so.'

  Mrs. Petito smiled aside at Lord Colambre, to mark her perception of the man's strangeness. Then, in a cajoling voice, addressing herself to the old gentleman—

  'Long, long, I hope, to continue so, if Heaven grants my daily and nightly prayers, and my Lady Dashfort's also. So, Mr. Reynolds, if the ladies' prayers are of any avail, you ought to be purely, and I suppose ladies' prayers have the precedency in efficacy. But it was not of prayers and deathbed affairs I came commissioned to treat—not of burials, which Heaven above forbid, but of weddings my diplomacy was to speak; and to premise my Lady Dashfort would have come herself in her carriage, but is hurried out of her senses, and my Lady Isabel could not in proper modesty; so they sent me as their DOUBLE to hope you, my dear Mr. Reynolds, who is one of the family relations, will honour the wedding with your presence.'

  'It would be no honour, and they know that as well as I do,' said the intractable Mr. Reynolds. 'It will be no advantage, either; but that they do not know as well as I do. Mrs. Petito, to save you and your lady all trouble about me in future, please to let my Lady Dashfort know that I have just received and read the certificate of my son Captain Reynolds's marriage with Miss St. Omar. I have acknowledged the marriage. Better late than never; and to-morrow morning, God willing, shall set out with this young nobleman for Buxton, where I hope to see, and intend publicly to acknowledge, my grand-daughter—provided she will acknowledge me.'

  'CRIMINI!' exclaimed Mrs. Petito, 'what new turns are here! Well, sir, I shall tell my lady of the METAMORPHOSES that have taken place, though by what magic (as I have not the honour to deal in the black art) I can't guess. But, since it seems annoying and inopportune, I shall take my FINALE, and shall thus have a verbal P.P.C.—as you are leaving town, it seems, for Buxton so early in the morning. My Lord Colambre, if I see rightly into a millstone, as I hope and believe I do on the present occasion, I have to congratulate your lordship (haven't I?) upon something like a succession, or a windfall, in this DENEWMENT. And I beg you'll make my humble respects acceptable to the ci-devant Miss Grace Nugent that was; and I won't DERROGATE her by any other name in the interregnum, as I am persuaded it will only be a temporary name, scarce worth assuming, except for the honour of the public adoption; and that will, I'm confident, be soon exchanged for a viscount's title, or I have no sagacity nor sympathy. I hope I don't (pray don't let me) put you to the blush, my lord.'

  Lord Colambre would not have let her, if he could have helped it.

  'Count O'Halloran, your most obedient! I had the honour of meeting you at Killpatrickstown,' said Mrs. Petito, backing to the door, and twitching her shawl. She stumbled, nearly fell down, over the large dog—caught by the door, and recovered herself. Hannibal rose and shook his ears. 'Poor fellow! you are of my acquaintance too.' She would have stroked his head; but Hannibal walked off indignant, and so did she.

  Thus ended certain hopes; for Mrs. Petito had conceived that her DIPLOMACY might be turned to account; that in her character of an ambassadress, as Lady Dashfort's double, by the aid of Iceland moss in chocolate, flattery properly administered; that, by bearing with all her DEAR Mr. Reynolds's ODDNESSES and ROUGHNESES, she might in time—that is to say, before he made a new will become his dear Mrs. Petito; or (for stranger things have happened and do happen every day) his dear Mrs. Reynolds! Mrs. Petito, however, was good at a retreat; and she flattered herself that at least nothing of this underplot had appeared; and at all events she secured by her services in this embassy, the long-looked-for object of her ambition, Lady Dashfort's scarlet velvet gown—'not yet a thread the worse for the wear!' One cordial look at this comforted her for the loss of her expected OCTOGENAIRE; and she proceeded to discomfit her lady, by repeating the message with which strange old Mr. Reynolds had charged her. So ended all Lady Dashfort's hopes of his fortune.

  Since the death of his youngest son, she had been indefatigable in her attentions, and sanguine in her hopes; the disappointment affected both her interest and her pride, as an INTRIGANTE. It was necessary, however, to keep her feelings to herself; for if Heathcock should hear anything of the matter before the articles were signed, he might 'be off!'—so she put him and Lady Isabel into her coach directly—drove to Gray's, to make sure at all events of the jewels.

  In the meantime Count O'Halloran and Lord Colambre, delighted with the result of their visit, took leave of Mr. Reynolds, after having arranged the journey, and appointed the hour for setting off the next day. Lord Colambre proposed to call upon Mr. Reynolds in the evening, and introduce his father, Lord Clonbrony; but Mr. Reynolds said—

  'No, no! I'm not ceremonious. I have given you proofs enough of that, I think, in the short time we've been already acquainted. Time enough to introduce your father to me when we are in a carriage, going our journey; then we can talk, and get acquainted; but merely to come this evening in a hurry, and say, "Lord Clonbrony, Mr. Reynolds;—Mr. Reynolds, Lord Clonbrony," and then bob our two heads at one another, and scrape one foot back, and away!—where's the use of that nonsense at my time of life, or at any time of life? No, no! we have enough to do without that, I daresay.—Good morning to you, Count O'Halloran! I thank you heartily. From the first moment I saw you, I liked you; lucky too that you brought your dog with you! 'Twas Hanni
bal made me first let you in; I saw him over the top of the blind.—Hannibal, my good fellow! I'm more obliged to you than you can guess.'

  'So are we all,' said Lord Colambre.

  Hannibal was well patted, and then they parted. In returning home they met Sir James Brooke.

  'I told you,' said Sir James, 'I should be in London almost as soon as you. Have you found old Reynolds!'

  'Just come from him.'

  'How does your business prosper! I hope as well as mine.'

  A history of all that had passed up to the present moment was given, and hearty congratulations received.

  'Where are you going now, Sir James?—cannot you come with us?' said Lord Colambre and the count.

  'Impossible,' replied Sir James;—'but, perhaps, you can come with me—I'm going to Gray's, to give some old family diamonds, either to be new set or exchanged. Count O'Halloran, I know you are a judge of these things; pray, come and give me your opinion.'

  'Better consult your bride elect!' said the count.

  'No; she knows little of the matter—and cares less,' replied Sir James.

  'Not so this bride elect, or I mistake her much,' said the count, as they passed by the window and saw Lady Isabel, who, with Lady Dashfort, had been holding consultation deep with the jeweller; and Heathcock, playing PERSONNAGE MUET.

  Lady Dashfort, who had always, as old Reynolds expressed it, 'her head upon her shoulders'—presence of mind where her interests were concerned—ran to the door before the count and Lord Colambre could enter, giving a hand to each—as if they had all parted the best friends in the world.

  'How do? how do?—Give you joy! give me joy! and all that. But mind! not a word,' said she, laying her finger upon her lips—'not a word before Heathcock of old Reynolds, or of the best part of the old fool,—his fortune!'