The Knight Of Gwynne Volume I Part 12

"Every acre, with the demesne, house, plate, pictures, carriages, wine,--begad! I 'm not sure if the livery servants are not included,--against fifty thousand pounds. You know Drogheda has lent him a very large sum on a mortgage of that property already, and this will make the thing about double or quits."

"Well, Heffernan," cried the Knight, "are you making your book there?

When you've quite finished, let me have a pinch of that excellent snuff of yours."

"Why not try mine?" said Lord Drogheda, pus.h.i.+ng a magnificently jewelled box, containing a miniature, across the table.

"'T would be a bad augury, my Lord," said Darcy, laughing. "If I remember aright, you won this handsome box from the Duke de Richelieu."

"Ah! you know that story, then?"

"I was present at the time, and remember the circ.u.mstance perfectly. The King was leaning over the Duke's chair, watching the game--"

"Quite true. The Duke affected not to know that his Majesty was there, and when he placed the box on the table, cried, 'A thousand louis against the portrait of the King!' There was no declining such a wager at such a moment, although, intrinsically, the box was not worth half the sum. I accepted, and won it."

"And the Duke then offered to give you twice the money for it back again?"

"He did so, and I refused. I shall not readily forget the sweet, sad smile of the King as he tapped the wily courtier on the shoulder, and said, 'Ah! Monsieur le Duc, do you only value your King when you've lost him?' They were prophetic words! Well, well! we 've got upon a sorrowful theme; let's change it."

"Here are the cards, at last," said the Knight, taking a sealed packet from the waiter's hand, and breaking it open on the table. "Now, Heffernan, order me a gla.s.s of claret negus, and take care that no one comes to worry us with news of the House."

"It's a sugar bill, or a new clause in the Corporation Act, or something of that kind, they 're working at," said Lord Drogheda, negligently.

"No, my Lord," interposed Heffernan, slyly, "it's a bill to permit your Lords.h.i.+p's nephew to hold the living of Ardragh with his deanery."

"All right and proper," said his Lords.h.i.+p, endeavoring to hide a rising flush on his cheek by an opportune laugh. "Tom is a capital fellow, and a good parson too."

"And ought never to omit the prayer for the Parliament!" muttered Heffernan, loud enough to be heard by the bystanders, who relished the allusion heartily.

"The deal is with you, Knight," said Lord Drogheda, pus.h.i.+ng the cards across the table.

The moment afterwards, a pin could not have fallen unheard in that crowded a.s.sembly. Even they who were not themselves bettors felt the deepest interest in the game where the stake was so great, and all who could set value on skill and address were curious to watch the progress of the contest. Not a word was spoken on either side as the cards fell upon the table, and although many of the bystanders displayed looks of more eager anxiety, the players showed by their intentness how strenuously each struggled for the victory.

After the lapse of about half an hour, a low, murmuring noise spread through the room, and the news was circulated that the first game was over, and the Knight was the winner. The players, however, were silent as before, and the deal went over without a word.

"One moment, my Lord," said Darcy, as he gently interposed his hand to prevent Lord Drogheda taking up his cards,--"a single moment. You will call me faint-hearted for it, but I do not care. I beseech you, let the party cease here. It is a great favor; but as I could not ask it if I had lost the game, give me, I pray, so much of advantage for my good luck."

"You forget, Knight, that I, as a loser, could not accede to your proposal; what would be said of any man who, with such a stake at issue, accepted an offer like this?"

"My dear Lord, don't you think that you and I might afford to have our actions canva.s.sed, and yet be very little afraid of criticism?" said Darcy, proudly.

"No, no, my dear Darcy, I really could not do this; besides, you must concede something to mortified vanity. Now, I am anxious to have my revenge."

"Be it so, my Lord," said the Knight, with a sigh, and the game began.

The looks and glances which were interchanged by those about during this brief colloquy showed how little sympathy there was felt with the generosity of either side. The bettors had set their hearts on gain, and cared little for the feelings of the players.

"You see he was right," whispered the red-whiskered squire to his neighbor; "my Lord has won the game in one hand." And so it was; in less than five minutes the party was over.

"Now for the conqueror," cried the Knight of Gwynne, who, somewhat nettled at a success which seemed to lessen the generous character of his own proposal, dealt the cards hastily, as if anxious to conclude.

"Now, Darcy, we have a better opportunity," said Lord Drogheda, smiling; "what say you to draw stakes as we stand?"

"Willingly, most willingly, my Lord. If a bad cause saps courage, I have reason to be low at heart. This foolish wager has cost me the loss of three nights' sleep, and if you are content--"

"But are these gentlemen here satisfied?" said Lord Drogheda; and an almost universal cry of "No" was the reply.

"Then if we are to play for the bystanders, my Lord, let us not delay them," said the Knight, as he took up his cards and began to arrange them.

"Darcy has it, by Jove!--the game is his," was muttered from one to another in the crowd behind his chair, and the report, gaining currency, was soon circulated in the larger room without.

"Have you anything heavy on it, Con?" said a fas.h.i.+onably dressed man to Heffernan, who endeavored to force his way through the crowd to where the Knight sat.

"Look at Heffernan!" said another. "They say he never bets; but mark the excitement of his face now!"

"What is it, Heffernan?" said the Knight, as the other leaned over his chair and tried to whisper something in his ear. "Is that a queen, my Lord? In that case I believe the game is mine.--What is it, Heffernan?"

and he bent his ear to listen; then, suddenly das.h.i.+ng the cards upon the table, cried out, "Great Heaven! is this true?--the young fellow I met at Kilbeggan?"

"The same," whispered Heffernan, rapidly; "a brother officer of your son Lionel's--a cousin of Lord Castle-reagh's--a fine, das.h.i.+ng fellow, too."

"Where is he wounded?" asked Darcy, eagerly.

"Finish your game--I must tell you all about it," said Heffernan, folding up a letter which he had taken from his pocket a few minutes before.

"Your pardon, my Lord," said Darcy, with a look full of agitation; "I have just heard very bad news.--I play the knave." A murmur ran through the crowd behind him.

"You meant the king, I know, Knight," said Lord Drogheda, restoring the card to his hand as he spoke, but a loud expression of dissatisfaction arose from those at his side.

"You are right, my Lord, I did intend the king," said the Knight; "but these gentlemen insist upon the knave, and, if you 'll permit me, I 'll play it."

The whole fortune of the game hung upon the card, and, after a brief struggle, the Knight was beaten.

"Even so, my Lord," said the Knight, smiling calmly, "you have beaten me against luck; Fortune will not do everything. The Roman satirist goes even further, and says she can do nothing." He rose as he said these words, and looked around for Heffernan.

"If you want Con Heffernan, Knight," said one of the party, "I think he has gone down to the House."

"The very man," said Darcy. "Good-night, my Lord,--good-night, gentlemen all."

"I did not believe that anything could shake Darcy's nerve, but he certainly played that game ill," said a bystander.

"Heffernan could tell us more about it," said another; "rely on it, Master Con and the devil knew why that knave was played."

CHAPTER X. AN INTRIGUE DETECTED

Of all the evil influences which swayed the destinies of Ireland in latter days, none can compare, in extent of importance, with the fatal taste for prodigality that characterized the habits of the gentry.

Reckless, wasteful extravagance, in every detail of life, suggested modes of acting and thinking at variance with all individual and, consequently, all national prosperity. Hospitality was pushed to profusion, liberality became a spendthrift habit. The good and the bad qualities of the Irish temperament alike contributed to this pa.s.sion; there was the wish to please, the desire to receive courteously, and entertain with splendor within doors, and to appear with proportionate magnificence without.