CHAPTER XXV. A COMPROMISE
There are many who think that our law of primogeniture is a sad hardenerof the heart,--estranging the father from the son, widening pettymisunderstandings to the breadth of grievances, engendering suspicionswhere there should be trustfulness, and opening two roads in life tothose who should rightfully have trod one path together. If one half ofthis be the price we pay for our "great houses," the bargain is a badone! But even taking a wide margin for exaggeration,--allowing muchfor the prejudices of those who assail this institution,--there is thatwhich revolts against one's better nature, in the ever-present questionof money, between the father and his heir. The very fact that separaterights suggest separate interests is a source of discord; while theinevitable law of succession is a stern defiance to that sense ofprotection on one side, and dependence on the other, that should marktheir relations to each other.
Captain Martin was not devoid of affection for his family. He had, itis true, been very little at home, but he did not dislike it, beyondthe "boredom" of a rather monotonous kind of life. He was naturally ofa plastic temperament, however, and he lived amongst a set whosegood pleasure it is to criticise all who belong to them with the veryfrankest of candor. One told how his governor, though rolling in wealth,kept him on a most beggarly allowance, illustrating, with many anamusing story, traits of avarice that set the table in a roar. Anotherexhibited his as such a reckless spendthrift that the family estatewould never cover the debts. There was a species of rivalry on seeingwho should lay most open to public view details and incidents purelybelonging to a family. It was even a principle of this new schoolto discuss, and suffer others to discuss before them, the class andcondition of life of their parents in a tone of mockery and derision,whenever the occasion might admit it; and the son of the manufactureror the trader listened to allusions to his birth and parentage, and evenjested upon them himself, in a spirit more flattering to his philosophythan to his pride.
Martin had lived amidst all this for years. He had been oftencomplimented upon the "jolly good thing he was to have one of thesedays;" he had been bantered out of many a wise and prudent economy, bybeing reminded of that "deuced fine property nobody could keep him outof." "What can it signify to _you_ old fellow, a few hundreds more orless. You must have fifteen thousand a year yet. The governor can't liveforever, I take it." Others, too, as self-invited guests, speculated onall the pleasures of a visit to Cro' Martin; and if at first the youngman heard such projects with shame and repugnance, he learned at last tolisten to them with indifference, perhaps with something less!
Was it some self-accusing on this score that now overwhelmed him as hesat alone in his room, trying to think, endeavoring to arouse himself toaction, but so overcome that he sat there only half conscious, andbut dimly discerning the course of events about him? At such momentsexternal objects mingle their influences with our thoughts, and thesound of voices, the tread of footsteps, the mere shutting of a door,seem to blend themselves with our reveries, and give somewhat of realityto our dreamy fancies. A large clock upon the mantelpiece had thus fixedhis attention, and he watched the minute-hand as though its course wasmeting out the last moments of existence. "Ere it reach that hour,"thought he, fixing his gaze upon the dial, "what a change may have comeover all my fortunes!" Years--long years--seemed to pass over as hewaited thus; scenes of childhood, of infancy itself, mingled with thegay dissipations of his after-life; school days and nights at mess,wild orgies of the play-table and sad wakings on the morrow, all movedthrough his distracted brain, till at length it was only by an effortthat he could shake off these flitting fancies and remember where hewas.
He at once bethought him that there was much to be done. He had givenMassingbred's letter to his mother, entreating a prompt answer, buttwo hours had now elapsed and she had not sent her reply. There was astruggle between his better nature and his selfishness whether to seekher. The thought of that sick-room, dark and silent, appalled him. "Isit at such a time I dare ask her to address her mind to this? and yethours are now stealing over which may decide my whole fate in life."While he thus hesitated, Lady Dorothea entered the room. Nights ofanxiety and watching, the workings of a spirit that fought inch byinch with fortune, were deeply marked upon her features. Wearinessand fatigue had not brought depression on her, but rather imparted afeverish lustre to her eyes, and an expression of haughty energy to herface.
"Am I to take this for true," said she, as, seating herself in frontof him, she held out Massingbred's letter,--"I mean, of course, whatrelates to yourself?"
He nodded sorrowfully, but did not speak.
"All literally the fact?" said she, speaking slowly, and dwelling onevery word. "You have actually sold the reversion of the estate?"
"And am beggared!" said he, sternly.
Lady Dorothea tried to speak. She coughed, cleared her throat, madeanother effort, but without succeeding; and then, in a slightly brokenvoice, said, "Fetch me a glass of water. No, sit down; I don't want it."The blood again mounted to her pale cheeks, and she was herself again.
"These are hard terms of Scanlan's," said she, in a dry, stern tone. "Hehas waited, too, till we have little choice remaining. Your father isworse."
"Worse than when I saw him this morning?"
"Weaker, and less able to bear treatment. He is irritable, too, at thatgirl's absence. He asks for her constantly, and confuses her in his mindwith Mary."
"And what does Schubart think?"
"I'll tell you what he _says_," replied she, with a marked emphasis onthe last word. "He says the case is hopeless; he has seen such lingerfor weeks, but even a day--a day--" She tried to go on; but her voicefaltered, her lip trembled, and she was silent.
"I had begun to believe it so," muttered Martin, gloomily. "He scarcelyrecognized me yesterday."
"He is perfectly collected and sensible now," said Lady Dorothea, in herformer calm tone. "He spoke of business matters clearly and well, andwished to see Scanlan."
"Which I trust you did not permit?" asked Martin, hurriedly.
"I told him he should see him this evening, but there is no necessityfor it. Scanlan may have left this before evening."
"You suspect that Scanlan would say something,--would mention to himsomething of this affair?"
"Discretion is not the quality of the low-born and the vulgar,"said she, haughtily; "self-importance alone would render him unsafe.Besides,"--and this she said rapidly,--"there is nothing to detain theman here, when he knows that we accept his conditions."
"And are we to accept them?" said Martin, anxiously.
"Dare we refuse them? What is the alternative? I suppose what you havedone with your Jew friend has been executed legally--formally?"
"Trust _him_ for that; he has left no flaw there!" said Martin,bitterly.
"I was certain of it," said she, with a scarcely perceptible sneer."Everything, therefore, has been effected according to law?"
"Yes, I believe so," replied he, doggedly.
"Then really there is nothing left to us but Scanlan. He objects toRepton; so do I. I always deemed him obtrusive and familiar. In themanagement of an Irish estate such qualities may be reckoned essential.I know what we should think of them in England, and I know where weshould place their possessor."
"I believe the main question that presses now is, are we to have anestate at all?" said the Captain, bitterly.
"Yes, sir, you have really brought it to that," rejoined she, with equalasperity.
"Do you consent to his having the agency?" asked Martin, with an immenseeffort to suppress passion.
"Yes."
"And you agree, also, to his proposal for Mary?"
"It is matter of complete indifference to me who Miss Martin marries, ifshe only continue to reside where she does at present. I 'm certain she'd not consult _me_ on the subject; I'm sure I'd never control _her_. Itis a _mesalliance_, to be sure; but it would be equally so, if she,with her rustic habits and uneducated mind, were to marry what would becalled her e
qual. In the present case, she 'll be a little better thanher station; in the other, she 'd be vastly beneath it!"
"Poor Molly!" said he, half aloud; and, for the first time, there was atouch of his father's tone and manner in the words.
Lady Dorothea looked at him, and with a slight shrug of the shouldersseemed to sneer at his low-priced compassion.
"Scoff away!" said he, sternly; "but if I thought that any consent wegave to this scheme could take the shape of a coercion, I 'd send theestate to the--"
"You have, sir; you have done all that already," broke in Lady Dorothea."When the troubled breathing that we hear from yonder room ceases, thereis no longer a Martin of Cro' Martin!"
"Then what are we losing time for?" cried he, eagerly. "Are momentsso precious to be spent in attack and recrimination? There's Scanlansitting on a bench before the door. Call him up--tell him you accepthis terms--let him start for London, post haste. With every speed he canmaster he 'll not be a minute too soon. Shall I call him? Shall I beckonto him?"
"Send a servant for him," said Lady Dorothea, calmly, while she foldedup the letter, and laid it on the table at her side.
Martin rang the bell and gave the order, and then, assuming an air ofcomposure he was very far from feeling, sat silently awaiting Scanlan'sentrance. That gentleman did not long detain them. He had been sitting,watch in hand, for above an hour, looking occasionally up at thewindows, and wondering why he had not been summoned. It was, then, withan almost abrupt haste that he at last presented himself.
"Read over that letter, sir," said Lady Dorothea, "and please to informme if it rightly conveys your propositions."
Scanlan perused Massingbred's letter carefully, and folding it up,returned it. "Yes, my Lady," said he, "I think it embraces the chiefpoints. Of course there is nothing specified as to the mode of carryingthem out,--I mean, as to the security I should naturally look for. Ibelieve your Ladyship does not comprehend me?"
"Not in the least, sir."
"Well, if I must speak plainer, I want to be sure that your concurrenceis no mere barren concession, my Lady; that, in admitting mypretensions, your Ladyship favors them. This is, of course," said he, ina tone of deference, "if your Ladyship condescends to accept the termsat all; for, as yet, you have not said so."
"If I had not been so minded, sir, this interview would not have takenplace."
"Well, indeed, I thought as much myself," said he; "and so I at onceentered upon what one might call the working details of the measure."
"How long will it take you to reach London, sir?" asked she, coldly.
"Four days, my Lady, travelling night and day."
"How soon after your arrival there can you make such arrangements aswill put this affair out of all danger, using every endeavor in yourpower?"
"I hope I could answer for that within a week,--maybe, less."
"You'll have to effect it in half that time, sir," said she, solemnly.
"Well, I don't despair of that same, if I have only your Ladyship'spromise to all that is set down there. I 'll neither eat nor sleep tillthe matter is in good train."
"I repeat, sir, that if this settlement be not accomplished in less thana week from the present moment, it may prove utterly valueless."
"I can only say I'll do my best, my Lady. I'd be on the road thisminute, if your Ladyship would dismiss me."
"Very well, sir,--you are free. I pledge myself to the full conditionsof this letter. Captain Martin binds himself equally to observe them."
"I 'd like it in writing under your Ladyship's hand," said Scanlan, ina half whisper, as though afraid to speak such doubts aloud. "It isnot that I have the least suspicion or misgiving in life about yourLadyship's word,--I'd take it for a million of money,--but when I cometo make my proposals in person to Miss Mary--"
"There, sir, that will do!" said she, with a disdainful look, as if torepress an explanation so disagreeable. "You need not enter further uponthe question. If you address me by letter, I will reply to it."
"There it is, my Lady," said he, producing a sealed epistle, and placingit on the table before her. "I had it ready, just not to be losing time.My London address is inside; and if you'll write to me by to-morrow'spost,--or the day after," added he, remarking a movement of impatiencein her face--"You shall have your bond, sir,--you shall have your bond,"broke she in, haughtily.
"That ought to be enough, I think," said the Captain, with a degree ofirritation that bespoke a long internal conflict.
"I want nothing beyond what I shall earn, Captain Martin," said Scanlan,as a flash of angry meaning covered his features.
"And we have agreed to the terms, Mr. Scanlan," said her Ladyship, witha great effort to conciliate. "It only remains for us to say, a goodjourney, and every success attend you."
"Thank you, my Lady; I'm your most obedient. Captain, I wish yougood-bye, and hope soon to send you happy tidings. I trust, if Mr.Martin asks after me, that you 'll give him my respectful duty; andif--"
"We'll forget nothing, sir," said Lady Dorothea, rising; and Scanlan,after a moment's hesitation as to whether he should venture to offerhis hand,--a measure for which, happily, he could not muster thecourage,--bowed himself out of the room, and closed the door.
"Not a very cordial leave-taking for one that's to be her nephew,"muttered he, with a bitter laugh, as he descended the stairs. "And,indeed, my first cousin, the Captain, is n't the model of familyaffection. Never mind, Maurice, your day is coming!" And with thisassuring reflection he issued forth to give orders for his journey.
A weary sigh--the outpouring of an oppressed and jaded spirit--brokefrom Lady Dorothea as the door closed after him. "Insufferablecreature!" muttered she to herself? and then, turning to the Captain,said aloud, "Is that man capable of playing us false?--or, rather, hashe the power of doing so?"
"It is just what I have been turning over in my own mind," replied he."I don't quite trust him; and, in fact, I'd follow him over to London,if I were free at this moment."
"Perhaps you ought to do so; it might be the wisest course," said she,hesitatingly.
"Do you think I could leave this with safety?" asked he. But she didnot seem to have heard the question. He repeated it, and she was stillsilent. "If the doctors could be relied on, they should be able to tellus."
"To tell us what?" asked she, abruptly, almost sternly.
"I meant that they'd know--that they'd perhaps be in a position tojudge--that they at least could warn us--" Here he stopped, confused andembarrassed, and quite unable to continue. That sense of embarrassment,however, came less of his own reflections than of the cold, steady, andsearching look which his mother never ceased to bend on him. It was agaze that seemed to imply, "Say on, and let me hear how destitute ofall feeling you will avow yourself." It was, indeed, the meaning of herstare, and so he felt it, as the color came and went in his cheek, and asense of faintish sickness crept over him.
"The post has arrived, my Lady, and I have left your Ladyship's letterson the dressing-table," said a servant. And Lady Dorothea, who had beenimpatiently awaiting the mall, hastened at once to her room.
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