The Absentee (29 page)

'By St. Patrick! the spirit of a prince, and an Irish prince, spoke
there,' cried Sir Terence; 'and if I'd fifty hearts, you'd have all in
your hand this minute, at your service, and warm. Blindfold you! after
that, the man that would attempt it DESARVES to be shot; and I'd have no
sincerer pleasure in life than shooting him this moment, was he my best
friend. But it's not Clonbrony, or your father, my lord, would act that
way, no more than Sir Terence O'Fay—there's the schedule of the debts,'
drawing a paper from his bosom; 'and I'll swear to the lot, and not a
man on earth could do that but myself.'

Lord Colambre opened the paper. His father turned aside, covering his
face with both his hands.

'Tut, man,' said Sir Terence; 'I know him now better than you; he will
stand, you'll find, the shock of that regiment of figures—he is steel
to the backbone, and proof spirit.'

'I thank you, my dear father,' said Lord Colambre, 'for trusting me thus
at once with a view of the truth. At first sight it is, I acknowledge,
worse than I expected; but I make no doubt that, when you allow me to
examine Mr. Garraghty's accounts and Mr. Mordicai's claims, we shall
be able to reduce this alarming total considerably, my dear father. You
think we learn nothing but Latin and Greek at Cambridge; but you are
mistaken.'

'The devil a pound, nor a penny,' said Sir Terence; 'for you have to
deal with a Jew and old Nick; and I'm not a match for them. I don't know
who is; and I have no hope of getting any abatement. I've looked over
the accounts till I'm sick.'

'Nevertheless, you will observe that fifteen hundred guineas have been
saved to my father, at one stroke, by his not signing those leases.'

'Saved to you, my lord; not your father, if you plase,' said Sir
Terence. 'For now I'm upon the square with you, I must be straight as an
arrow, and deal with you as the son and friend of my friend; before,
I was considering you only as the son and heir, which is quite another
thing, you know; accordingly, acting for your father here, I was making
the best bargain against you I could; honestly, now, I tell you. I knew
the value of the lands well enough; we were as sharp as Garraghty, and
he knew it; we were to have had THE DIFFERENCE from him, partly in cash
and partly in balance of accounts—you comprehend—and you only would
have been the loser, and never would have known it, maybe, till after we
all were dead and buried; and then you might have set aside Garraghty's
lease easy, and no harm done to any but a rogue that DESARVED it; and,
in the meantime, an accommodation to my honest friend, my lord, your
father, here. But, as fate would have it, you upset all by your progress
INCOGNITO through them estates. Well, it's best as it is, and I am
better pleased to be as we are, trusting all to a generous son's own
heart. Now put the poor father out of pain, and tell us what you'll do,
my dear.'

'In one word, then,' said Lord Colambre, 'I will, upon two conditions,
either join my father in levying fines to enable him to sell or mortgage
whatever portion of his estate is necessary for the payment of these
debts; or I will, in whatever other mode he can point out, as more
agreeable or more advantageous to him, join in giving security to his
creditors.'

'Dear, noble fellow!' cried Sir Terence; 'none but an Irishman could do
it.'

Lord Clonbrony, melted to tears, could not articulate, but held his arms
open to embrace his son.

'But you have not heard my conditions yet,' said Lord Colambre.

'Oh, confound the conditions!' cried Sir Terence.

'What conditions could he ask that I could refuse at this minute?' said
Lord Clonbrony.

'Nor I—was it my heart's blood, and were I to be hanged for it,' cried
Sir Terence. 'And what are the conditions?'

'That Mr. Garraghty shall be dismissed from the agency.'

'And welcome, and glad to get rid of him—the rogue, the tyrant,' said
Lord Clonbrony; 'and, to be beforehand with you in your next wish, put
Mr. Burke into his place.'

'I'll write the letter for you to sign, my lord, this minute,' cried
Terry, 'with all the pleasure in life. No; it's my Lord Colambre should
do that in all justice.'

'But what's your next condition? I hope it's no worse,' said Lord
Clonbrony.

'That you and my mother should cease to be absentees.'

'Oh murder!' said Sir Terence; 'maybe that's not so easy; for there are
two words to that bargain.'

Lord Clonbrony declared that, for his own part, he was ready to return
to Ireland next morning, and to promise to reside on his estate all the
rest of his days; that there was nothing he desired more, provided Lady
Clonbrony would consent to it; but that he could not promise for her;
that she was as obstinate as a mule on that point; that he had often
tried, but that there was no moving her; and that, in short, he could
not promise on her part.

But it was on this condition, Lord Colambre said, he must insist.
Without this condition was granted, he would not engage to do anything.

'Well, we must only see how it will be when she comes to town; she will
come up from Buxton the day you're of age to sign some papers,' said
Lord Clonbrony; 'but,' added he, with a very dejected look and voice,
'if all's to depend on my Lady Clonbrony's consenting to return to
Ireland, I'm as far from all hope of being at ease as ever.'

'Upon my conscience, we're all at sea again,' said Sir Terence.

Lord Colambre was silent: but in his silence there was such an air
of firmness, that both Lord Clonbrony and Sir Terence were convinced
entreaties would on this point be fruitless—Lord Clonbrony sighed
deeply.

'But when it's ruin or safety, and her husband and all belonging to her
at stake, the woman can't persist in being a mule,' said Sir Terence.

'Of whom are you talking?' said Lord Colambre.

'Of whom? Oh, I beg your lordship's pardon—I thought I was talking
to my lord; but, in other words, as you are her son, I'm persuaded her
ladyship, your mother, will prove herself a reasonable woman—when she
sees she can't help it. So, my Lord Clonbrony, cheer up; a great deal
may be done by the fear of Mordicai, and an execution, especially now
the prior creditor. Since there's no reserve between you and I now,
my Lord Colambre,' said Sir Terence, 'I must tell you all, and how we
shambled on those months while you were in Ireland. First, Mordicai went
to law, to prove I was in a conspiracy with your father, pretending to
be prior creditor, to keep him off and out of his own; which, after a
world of swearing and law—law always takes time to do justice, that's
one comfort—the villain proved at last to be true enough, and so cast
us; and I was forced to be paid off last week. So there's no prior
creditor, or any shield of pretence that way. Then his execution was
coming down upon us, and nothing to stay it till I thought of a monthly
annuity to Mordicai, in the shape of a wager. So, the morning after he
cast us, I went to him: "Mr. Mordicai," says I, "you must be PLASED to
see a man you've beaten so handsomely; and though I'm sore, both for
myself and my friend, yet you see I can laugh still; though an execution
is no laughing matter, and I'm sinsible you've one in petto in your
sleeve for my friend Lord Clonbrony. But I'll lay you a wager of a
hundred guineas in paper that a marriage of his son with a certain
heiress, before next Lady-day, will set all to rights, and pay you with
a compliment too."'

'Good heavens, Sir Terence! surely you said no such thing?'

'I did—but what was it but a wager? which is nothing but a dream; and,
when lost, as I am as sinsible as you are that it must be, why, what
is it, after all, but a bonus, in a gentleman-like form, to Mordicai?
which, I grant you, is more than he deserves, for staying the execution
till you be of age; and even for my Lady Clonbrony's sake, though I
know she hates me like poison, rather than have her disturbed by an
execution, I'd pay the hundred guineas this minute out of my own pocket,
if I had'em in it.'

A thundering knock at the door was heard at this moment.

'Never heed it; let 'em thunder,' said Sir Terence; 'whoever it is,
they won't get in; for my lord bid them let none in for their life. It's
necessary for us to be very particular about the street-door now; and
I advise a double chain for it, and to have the footmen well tutored to
look before they run to a double rap; for a double rap might be a double
trap.'

'My lady and Miss Nugent, my lord,' said a footman, throwing open the
door.

'My mother! Miss Nugent!' cried Lord Colambre, springing eagerly
forward.

'Colambre! here!' said his mother; 'but it's all too late now, and no
matter where you are.'

Lady Clonbrony coldly suffered her son to embrace her; and he, without
considering the coldness of her manner, scarcely hearing, and not at
all understanding the words she said, fixed his eyes on his cousin, who,
with a countenance all radiant with affectionate joy, held out her hand
to him.

'Dear cousin Colambre, what an unexpected pleasure!'

He seized the hand; but, as he was going to kiss it, the recollection of
ST. OMAR crossed his mind; he checked himself, and said something
about joy and pleasure, but his countenance expressed neither; and Miss
Nugent, much surprised by the coldness of his manner, withdrew her hand,
and, turning away, left the room.

'Grace! darling!' called Lord Clonbrony, 'whither so fast, before you've
given me a word or a kiss?'

She came back, and hastily kissed her uncle, who folded her in his arms.
'Why must I let you go? And what makes you so pale, my dear child?'

'I am a little—a little tired. I will be with you again soon.' Her
uncle let her go.

'Your famous Buxton baths don't seem to have agreed with her, by all I
can see,' said Lord Clonbrony.

'My lord, the Buxton baths are no way to blame; but I know what is
to blame, and who is to blame,' said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone of
displeasure, fixing her eyes upon her son. 'Yes, you may well look
confounded, Colambre; but it is too late now—you should have known your
own mind in time. I see you have heard it, then—but I am sure I don't
know how; for it was only decided the day I left Buxton. The news could
hardly travel faster than I did. Pray, how did you hear it?'

'Hear what, ma'am?' said Lord Colambre.

'Why, that Miss Broadhurst is going to be married.'

'Oh, is that all, ma'am!' said our hero, much relieved.

'All! Now, Lord Colambre, you REELLY are too much for my patience. But
I flatter myself you will feel, when I tell you, that it is your friend,
Sir Arthur Berryl, as I always prophesied, who has carried off the prize
from you.'

'But for the fear of displeasing my dear mother, I should say, that I do
feel sincere pleasure in this marriage—I always wished it: my friend,
Sir Arthur, from the first moment, trusted me with the secret of his
attachment; he knew that he had my warm good wishes for his success;
he knew that I thought most highly of the young lady; but that I never
thought of her as a wife for myself.'

'And why did not you? that is the very thing I complain of,' said Lady
Clonbrony. 'But it is all over now. You may set your heart at ease, for
they are to be married on Thursday; and poor Mrs. Broadhurst is ready
to break her heart, for she was set upon a coronet for her daughter; and
you, ungrateful as you are, you don't know how she wished you to be the
happy man. But only conceive, after all that had passed, Miss Broadhurst
had the assurance to expect I would let my niece be her bridesmaid. Oh,
I flatly refused; that is, I told Grace it could not be; and, that
there might be no affront to Mrs. Broadhurst, who did not deserve it,
I pretended Grace had never mentioned it; but ordered my carriage,
and left Buxton directly. Grace was hurt, for she is very warm in her
friendships. I am sorry to hurt Grace. But REELLY I could not let her be
bridesmaid;—and that, if you must know, is what vexed her, and made the
tears come in her eyes, I suppose—and I'm sorry for it; but one must
keep up one's dignity a little. After all, Miss Broadhurst was only
a citizen—and REELLY now, a very odd girl; never did anything like
anybody else; settled her marriage at last in the oddest way. Grace, can
you tell the particulars? I own, I am tired of the subject, and tired of
my journey. My lord, I shall take leave to dine in my own room to-day,'
continued her ladyship, as she quitted the room.

'I hope her ladyship did not notice me,' said Sir Terence O'Fay, coming
from behind a window-curtain.

'Why, Terry, what did you hide for?' said Lord Clonbrony.

'Hide! I didn't hide, nor wouldn't from any man living, let alone any
woman.
(Leaving any woman out of the question.)
Hide! no; but I just
stood looking out of the window, behind this curtain, that my poor Lady
Clonbrony might not be discomfited and shocked by the sight of one
whom she can't abide, the very minute she come home. Oh, I've some
consideration—it would have put her out of humour worse with both of
you too; and for that there's no need, as far as I see. So I'll take
myself off to my coffee-house to dine, and maybe you may get her down
and into spirits again. But, for your lives, don't touch upon Ireland
the night, nor till she has fairly got the better of the marriage.
APROPOS—there's my wager to Mordicai gone at a slap. It's I that ought
to be scolding you, my Lord Colambre; but I trust you will do as well
yet, not in point of purse, maybe. But I'm not one of those that think
that money's everything—though, I grant you, in this world, there's
nothing to be had without it—love excepted—which most people don't
believe in—but not I—in particular cases. So I leave you, with my
blessing, and I've a notion, at this time, that is better than my
company—your most devoted—'

The good-natured Sir Terence would not be persuaded by Lord Clonbrony
to stay. Nodding at Lord Colambre as he went out of the room, he said,
'I've an eye, in going, to your heart's ease too. When I played myself,
I never liked standers-by.'