Tales and Novels Volume VI Part 8

"Don't despair," said Miss Nugent, as she followed to obey her aunt's summons. "Don't despair; don't attempt to speak to her again till to-morrow morning. Her head is now full of Lady St. James's party.

When it is emptied of that, you will have a better chance. Never despair."

"Never, while you encourage me to hope--that any good can be done."

Lady Clonbrony was particularly glad that she had carried her point about this party at Lady St. James's; because, from the first private intimation that the d.u.c.h.ess of Torcaster was to be there, her ladys.h.i.+p flattered herself that the long-desired introduction might then be accomplished. But of this hope Lady St. James had likewise received intimation from the double-dealing Miss Pratt; and a warning note was despatched to the d.u.c.h.ess to let her grace know that circ.u.mstances had occurred which had rendered it impossible not to _ask the Clonbronies_. An excuse, of course, for not going to this party, was sent by the d.u.c.h.ess--her grace did not like large parties--she would have the pleasure of accepting Lady St. James's invitation for her select party on Wednesday, the 10th. Into these select parties Lady Clonbrony had never been admitted. In return for great entertainments she was invited to great entertainments, to large parties; but further she could never penetrate.

At Lady St. James's, and with her set, Lady Clonbrony suffered a different kind of mortification from that which Lady Langdale and Mrs.

Dareville made her endure. She was safe from the witty raillery, the sly inuendo, the insolent mimicry; but she was kept at a cold, impa.s.sable distance, by ceremony--"So far shalt thou go, and no further," was expressed in every look, in every word, and in a thousand different ways.

By the most punctilious respect and nice regard to precedency, even by words of courtesy--"Your ladys.h.i.+p does me honour," &c.--Lady St.

James contrived to mortify and to mark the difference between those with whom she was, and with whom she was not, upon terms of intimacy and equality. Thus the ancient grandees of Spain drew a line of demarcation between themselves and the newly created n.o.bility.

Whenever or wherever they met, they treated the new n.o.bles with the utmost respect, never addressed them but with all their t.i.tles, with low bows, and with all the appearance of being, with the most perfect consideration, anything but their equals; whilst towards one another the grandees laid aside their state, and omitting their t.i.tles, it was "Alcala--Medina Sidonia--Infantado," and a freedom and familiarity which marked equality. Entrenched in etiquette in this manner, and mocked with marks of respect, it was impossible either to intrude or to complain of being excluded.

At supper at Lady St. James's, Lady Clonbrony's present was p.r.o.nounced by some gentlemen to be remarkably high flavoured. This observation turned the conversation to Irish commodities and Ireland. Lady Clonbrony, possessed by the idea that it was disadvantageous to appear as an Irishwoman or as a favourer of Ireland, began to be embarra.s.sed by Lady St. James's repeated thanks. Had it been in her power to offer any thing else with propriety, she would not have thought of sending her ladys.h.i.+p any thing from Ireland. Vexed by the questions that were asked her about her _country_, Lady Clonbrony, as usual, denied it to be her country, and went on to depreciate and abuse every thing Irish; to declare that there was no possibility of living in Ireland; and that, for her own part, she was resolved never to return thither. Lady St. James, preserving perfect silence, let her go on. Lady Clonbrony imagining that this silence arose from coincidence of opinion, proceeded with all the eloquence she possessed, which was very little, repeating the same exclamations, and reiterating her vow of perpetual expatriation; till at last an elderly lady, who was a stranger to her, and whom she had till this moment scarcely noticed, took up the defence of Ireland with much warmth and energy: the eloquence with which she spoke, and the respect with which she was heard, astonished Lady Clonbrony.

"Who is she?" whispered her ladys.h.i.+p.

"Does not your ladys.h.i.+p know Lady Oranmore--the Irish Lady Oranmore?"

"Lord bless me!--what have I said!--what have I done!--Oh! why did you not give me a hint, Lady St. James?"

"I was not aware that your ladys.h.i.+p was not acquainted with Lady Oranmore," replied Lady St. James, unmoved by her distress.

Every body sympathized with Lady Oranmore, and admired the honest zeal with which she abided by her country, and defended it against unjust aspersions and affected execrations. Every one present enjoyed Lady Clonbrony's confusion, except Miss Nugent, who sat with her eyes bowed down by penetrative shame during the whole of this scene: she was glad that Lord Colambre was not witness to it; and comforted herself with the hope that, upon the whole, Lady Clonbrony would be benefited by the pain she had felt. This instance might convince her that it was not necessary to deny her country to be received in any company in England; and that those who have the courage and steadiness to be themselves, and to support what they feel and believe to be the truth, must command respect. Miss Nugent hoped that in consequence of this conviction Lady Clonbrony would lay aside the little affectations by which her manners were painfully constrained and ridiculous; and, above all, she hoped that what Lady Oranmore had said of Ireland might dispose her aunt to listen with patience to all Lord Colambre might urge in favour of returning to her home. But Miss Nugent hoped in vain. Lady Clonbrony never in her life generalized any observations, or drew any but a partial conclusion from the most striking facts.

"Lord! my dear Grace!" said she, as soon as they were seated in their carriage, "what a sc.r.a.pe I got into to-night at supper, and what disgrace I came to!--and all this because I did not know Lady Oranmore. Now you see the inconceivable disadvantage of not knowing every body--every body of a certain rank, of course, I mean."

Miss Nugent endeavoured to slide in her own moral on the occasion, but it would not do.

"Yes, my dear, Lady Oranmore may talk in that kind of style of Ireland, because, on the other hand, she is so highly connected in England; and, besides, she is an old lady, and may take liberties; in short, she is Lady Oranmore, and that's enough."

The next morning, when they all met at breakfast, Lady Clonbrony complained bitterly of her increased rheumatism, of the disagreeable, stupid party they had had the preceding night, and of the necessity of going to another formal party to-morrow night, and the next, and the next night, and, in the true fine lady style, deplored her situation, and the impossibility of avoiding those things,

"Which felt they curse, yet covet still to feel."

Miss Nugent determined to retire as soon as she could from the breakfast-room, to leave Lord Colambre an opportunity of talking over his family affairs at full liberty. She knew by the seriousness of his countenance that his mind was intent upon doing so, and she hoped that his influence with his father and mother would not be exerted in vain. But just as she was rising from the breakfast-table, in came Sir Terence O'Fay, and seating himself quite at his ease, in spite of Lady Clonbrony's repulsive looks, his awe of Lord Colambre having now worn off, "I'm tired," said he, "and have a right to be tired; for it's no small walk I've taken for the good of this n.o.ble family this morning.

And, Miss Nugent, before I say more, I'll take a cup of _ta_ from you, if you please."

Lady Clonbrony rose, with great stateliness, and walked to the farthest end of the room, where she established herself at her writing-table, and began to write notes.

Sir Terence wiped his forehead deliberately.--"Then I've had a fine run--Miss Nugent, I believe you never saw me run; but I can run, I promise you, when it's to serve a friend--And my lord (turning to Lord Clonbrony), what do you think I run for this morning--to buy a bargain--and of what?--a bargain of a bad debt--a debt of yours, which I bargained for, and up just in time--and Mordicai's ready to hang himself this minute--For what do you think that rascal was bringing upon you--but an execution?--he was."

"An execution!" repeated every body present, except Lord Colambre.

"And how has this been prevented, sir?" said Lord Colambre.

"Oh! let me alone for that," said Sir Terence. "I got a hint from my little friend, Paddy Brady, who would not be paid for it either, though he's as poor as a rat. Well! as soon as I got the hint, I dropped the thing I had in my hand, which was the Dublin Evening, and ran for the bare life--for there wasn't a coach--in my slippers, as I was, to get into the prior creditor's shoes, who is the little solicitor that lives in Crutched Friars, which Mordicai never dreamt of, luckily; so he was very genteel, though he was taken on a sudden, and from his breakfast, which an Englishman don't like particularly--I popped him a douceur of a draft, at thirty-one days, on Garraghty, the agent; of which he must get notice; but I won't descant on the law before the ladies--he handed me over his debt and execution, and he made me prior creditor in a trice. Then I took coach in state, the first I met, and away with me to Long Acre--saw Mordicai. 'Sir,' says I, 'I hear you're meditating an execution on a friend of mine.'--'Am I?' said the rascal; 'who told you so?'--'No matter,' said I; 'but I just called in to let you know there's no use in life of your execution; for there's a prior creditor with his execution to be satisfied first.' So he made a great many black faces, and said a great deal, which I never listened to, but came off here clean to tell you all the story."

"Not one word of which do I understand," said Lady Clonbrony.

"Then, my dear, you are very ungrateful," said Lord Clonbrony.

Lord Colambre said nothing, for he wished to learn more of Sir Terence O'Fay's character, of the state of his father's affairs, and of the family methods of proceeding in matters of business.

"Faith! Terry, I know I'm very thankful to you--But an execution's an ugly thing,--and I hope there's no danger."

"Never fear!" said Sir Terence: "hav'n't I been at my wits' ends for myself or my friends ever since I come to man's estate--to years of discretion, I should say, for the deuce a foot of estate have I! But use has sharpened my wits pretty well for your service; so never be in dread, my good lord; for look ye!" cried the reckless knight, sticking his arms akimbo, "look ye here! in Sir Terence O'Fay stands a host that desires no better than to encounter, single-witted, all the duns in the united kingdoms, Mordicai the Jew inclusive."

"Ah! that's the devil, that Mordicai," said Lord Clonbrony; "that's the only man on earth I dread."

"Why, he is only a coachmaker, is not he?" said Lady Clonbrony: "I can't think how you can talk, my lord, of dreading such a low man.

Tell him, if he's troublesome, we won't bespeak any more carriages; and, I'm sure, I wish you would not be so silly, my lord, to employ him any more, when you know he disappointed me the last birthday about the landau, which I have not got yet."

"Nonsense, my dear," said Lord Clonbrony; "you don't know what you are talking of--Terry, I say, even a friendly execution is an ugly thing."

"Phoo! phoo!--an ugly thing!--So is a fit of the gout--but one's all the better for it after. 'Tis just a renewal of life, my, lord, for which one must pay a bit of a fine, you know. Take patience, and leave me to manage all properly--you know I'm used to these things: only you recollect, if you please, how I managed my friend Lord----it's bad to be mentioning names--but Lord _Every-body-knows-who_--didn't I bring him through cleverly, when there was that rascally attempt to seize the family plate? I had notice, and what did I do, but broke open a part.i.tion between that lord's house and my lodgings, which I had taken next door; and so, when the sheriffs officers were searching below on the ground floor, I just shoved the plate easy through to my bedchamber at a moment's warning, and then bid the gentlemen walk in, for they couldn't set a foot in my paradise, the devils!--So they stood looking at it through the wall, and cursing me, and I holding both my sides with laughter at their fallen faces."

Sir Terence and Lord Clonbrony laughed in concert.

"This is a good story," said Miss Nugent, smiling; "but surely, Sir Terence, such things are never done in real life?"

"Done! ay, are they; and I could tell you a hundred better strokes, my dear Miss Nugent."

"Grace!" cried Lady Clonbrony, "do pray have the goodness to seal and send these notes; for really," whispered she, as her niece came to the table, "I _cawnt stee_, I _cawnt_ bear that man's _vice_, his accent grows horrider and horrider!"

Her ladys.h.i.+p rose, and left the room.

"Why, then," continued Sir Terence, following Miss Nugent to the table, where she was sealing letters--"I must tell you how I _sa_rved that same man on another occasion, and got the victory, too."

No general officer could talk of his victories, or fight his battles o'er again, with more complacency than Sir Terence O'Fay recounted his _civil_ exploits.

"Now I'll tell you, Miss Nugent. There was a footman in the family, not an Irishman, but one of your powdered English scoundrels that ladies are so fond of having hanging to the backs of their carriages; one Fleming he was, that turned spy, and traitor, and informer, went privately and gave notice to the creditors where the plate was hid in the thickness of the chimney; but if he did, what happened? Why, I had my counter-spy, an honest little Irish boy, in the creditor's shop, that I had secured with a little douceur of usquebaugh; and he outwitted, as was natural, the English lying valet, and gave us notice, just in the nick, and I got ready for their reception; and, Miss Nugent, I only wish you'd seen the excellent sport we had, letting them follow the scent they got; and when they were sure of their game, what did they find?--Ha! ha! ha!--dragged out, after a world of labour, a heavy box of--a load of brick-bats; not an item of my friend's plate, that was all snug in the coal-hole, where them dunces never thought of looking for it--Ha! ha! ha!"

"But come, Terry," cried Lord Clonbrony, "I'll pull down your pride.--How finely, another time, your job of the false ceiling answered in the hall. I've heard that story, and have been told how the sheriff's fellow thrust his bayonet up through your false plaster, and down came tumbling the family plate--hey! Terry?--That hit cost your friend, Lord Every-body-knows-who, more than your head's worth, Terry."

"I ask your pardon, my lord, it never cost him a farthing."

"When he paid 7000_l._ for the plate, to redeem it?"

"Well! and did not I make up for that at the races of ----? The creditors learned that my lord's horse, Naboclish, was to run at ---- races; and, as the sheriff's officer knew he dare not touch him on the race-ground, what does he do, but he comes down early in the morning on the mail-coach, and walks straight down to the livery stables.

He had an exact description of the stables, and the stall, and the horse's body clothes.

"I was there, seeing the horse taken care of; and, knowing the cut of the fellow's jib, what does I do, but whips the body clothes off Naboclish, and claps them upon a garrone, that the priest would not ride.

"In comes the bailiff--'Good morrow to you, sir,' says I, leading out of the stable my lord's horse, with an _ould_ saddle and bridle on.

"'Tim Neal,' says I to the groom, who was rubbing down the garrone's heels, 'mind your hits to-day, and _wee'l_ wet the plate to-night."

"'Not so fast, neither,' says the bailiff--'here's my writ for seizing the horse.'