The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain Part 39

"My Lord Cullamore.--It is now nine months and upwards since I addressed a letter to your son; and I wrote to him in reference to you, because it had been for many years my intention never to have renewed or held any communication whatsoever with you. It was on this account, therefore, that I opened, or endeavored to open, a correspondence with him rather than with his father. In this I have been disappointed, and my object, which was not an unfriendly one, frustrated. I do not regret, however, that I have been treated with contempt. The fact cancelled the foolish indulgence with which an exhibition of common courtesy and politeness, if not a better feeling, on the part of your son, might have induced me to treat both you and him. As matters now stand between us, indulgence is out of the question; so is compromise. I shall now lose little time in urging claims which you will not be able to withstand. Whether you suspect the nature of these claims or not is more than I know. Be that, however, as it may, I can a.s.sure you that I had resolved not to disturb your last days by prosecuting them during your lifetime. That resolution I have now rescinded, and all that remains for me to say is; that as little time as possible shall be lost in enforcing the claims I allude to, in justice to my family.

"I am, my Lord Cullamore,

"Your obedient servant,

"RICHARD STAPLETON."

This strange and startling communication caused the good old man much uneasiness, even although its object and purpose were altogether beyond his comprehension. The only solution that occurred to him of the mystery which ran through it, was that it must have been written under some misconception or delusion for which he could not account. Another key to the difficulty--one equally replete with distress and alarm--was that his brother's reason had probably become unsettled, and that the communication in question was merely the emanation of mental alienation.

And, indeed, on this point only could he account for the miscarriage of the letter to his son, which probably had never been written at all and existed only in the disturbed imagination of his unfortunate brother.

At all events, the contents of this doc.u.ment, like those mysterious presentiments of evil which sometimes are said to precede calamity, hung like a weight upon his mind, view them as he might. He became nervous, depressed, and gloomy, pleaded illness as an apology for not dining abroad; remained alone and at home during the whole evening, but arose the next morning in better spirits, and when our friend Tom Norton presented himself, he had regained sufficient equanimity and composure to pay proper attention to that faithful and friendly gentleman.

Now Tom, who resolved to make an impression, as it is termed, was dressed in the newest and most fas.h.i.+onable morning visit costume, drove up to the hall-door at that kind of breakneck pace with which your celebrated whips delight to astonish the mult.i.tude, and throwing the reins to a servant, desired, if he knew how to pace the horse up and down, to do so; otherwise to remember that he had a neck.

The servant in question, a stout, compact fellow, with a rich Milesian face and a mellow brogue, looked at him with a steady but smiling eye.

"Have a neck, is it?" he exclaimed; "by my sowl, an' it's sometimes an inconvenience to have that same. My own opinion is, sir, that the neck now is jist one of the tenderest joints in the body."

Norton looked at him for a moment with an offended and haughty stare.

"If you are incapable of driving the landau, sir," he replied, "call some one who can; and don't be impertinent."

"Incapable," replied the other, with a cool but humorous kind of gravity; "troth, then it's disgrace I'd bring on my taicher if I couldn't sit a saddle an' handle a whip with the best o' them. And wid regard to the neck, sir, many a man has escaped a worse fall than one from the box or the saddle."

Norton drew himself up with a highly indignant scowl, and turning his frown once more upon this most impertinent menial, encountered a look of such comic familiarity, easy a.s.surance, and droll indifference, as it would not be easy to match. The beau started, stared, again pulled himself to a still greater height--as if by the dignity of the att.i.tude to set the other at fault--frowned more awfully, then looked bl.u.s.ter, and once more surveyed the broad, knowing face and significant laughing eyes that were fixed upon him--set, as they were, in the centre of a broad grin--after which he pulled up his collar with an air--taking two or three strides up and down with what he intended as aristocratic dignity--

"Hem! ahem! What do you mean, sir?"

To this, for a time, there was no reply; but there, instead, were the laughing fascinators at work, fixed not only upon him, but in him, piercing him through; the knowing grin still increasing and gathering force of expression by his own confusion.

"Curse me, sir, I don't understand this insolence. What do you mean? Do you know who it is you treat in this manner?"

Again he stretched himself, pulled up his collar as before, displaying a rich diamond ring, then taking out a valuable gold watch, glanced at the time, and putting it in his fob, looked enormously big and haughty, exclaiming again, with a frown that was intended to be a stunner--after again pacing up and down with the genuine tone and carriage of true n.o.bility--

"I say, sir, do you know the gentleman whom you are treating with such impertinence? Perhaps you mistake me, on account of a supposed resemblance, for some former acquaintance of yours. If, so, correct yourself; I have never seen you till this moment."

There, however, was the grin, and there were the eyes as before, to which we must add a small bit of pantomime on the part of Morty O'Flaherty, for such was the servant's name, which bit of pantomime consisted in his (Morty's) laying his forefinger very knowingly alongside his nose, exclaiming, in a cautious and friendly voice however,

"Barney, achora, don't be alarmed; there's no harm done yet. You're safe if you behave yourself."

"What!" said Norton. "By the bones of St. Patrick but you are Morty O'Flaherty! Confound it, my dear Morty, why didn't you make yourself known at once? it would have relieved both of us."

"One of us, you mane," replied Morty, with a wink.

"Upon my soul I am glad to free you, Morty. And how are you, man alive?

In a snug berth here, I see, with the father of my friend, Lord Dunroe."

"Ha!" exclaimed Morty, shrewdly; "is that it? Your friend; Oh, I see.

Nate as ever, like a clane sixpence. Well, Barney, the world will have its way."

"Ay, Morty, and we must comply with it. Some it brings up, and others it brings down."

"Whisht, now, Barney," said Morty; "let by-gones be by-gones. That it didn't bring you up, be thankful to a gracious Providence and a light pair o' heels; that's all. And what are you now?"

"No longer Barney Bryan, at any rate," replied the other. "My name, at present, is Norton."

"At present! Upon my sowl, Barney, so far as names goes, you're a walkin' catalogue."

"Thomas Norton, Esquire; residing with that distinguished young n.o.bleman, Lord Dunroe, as his bosom friend and inseparable companion."

"Hem! I see," said Morty, with a shrug, which he meant as one of compa.s.sion for the aforesaid Lord Dunroe; "son to my masther. Well, G.o.d pity him, Barney, is the worst I wish him. You will take care of him; you'll tache him a thing or two--and that's enough. But, Barney--"

"Curse Barney--Mr. Norton's the word."

"Well, Mr. Norton--ah, Mr. Norton, there's one person you'll not neglect."

"Who is that, Morty?"

"Faith, your mother's son, achora. However, you know the proverb--'A burnt child dreads the fire.' You have a neck still, Barney--beg pardon, Mr. Norton--don't forget that fact."

"And I'll take care of the said neck, believe me, Morty; I shall keep it safe, never fear."

"Take care you don't keep it a little too safe. A word to the wise is enough, Bar--Mr. Norton."

"It is, Morty; and I trust you will remember that that is to be a regulation between us. 'A close mouth is the sign of a wise head,' too; and there's a comrade for your proverb--but we are talking too long.

Listen; keep my secret, and I will make it worth your while to do so.

You may ruin me, without serving yourself; but as a proof that you will find me your friend, I will slip you five guineas, as a recompense, you know, for taking care of the landau and horses. In short, if we work into each other's hands it will be the better for us both."

"I'll keep your' saicret," replied honest Morty, "so long, Barney--hem!

Mr. Norton--as you keep yourself honest; but I'll dirty my hands wid none o' your money. If I was willin' to betray you, it's not a bribe would prevent me."

Mr. Norton, in a few moments, was ushered into the presence of Lord Cullamore.

On entering the apartment, the old n.o.bleman, with easy and native courtesy, rose up, and received him with every mark of attention and respect.

"I am happy, Mr. Norton," he proceeded, "to have it in my power to thank you for the friends.h.i.+p and kindness which my son, Lord Dunroe, has been so fortunate as to receive at your hands. He speaks of you with such warmth, and in terms of such high esteem, that I felt naturally anxious to make your acquaintance, as his friend. Pray be seated."

Norton, who was a quick and ready fellow, in more senses than one, bowed lowly, and with every mark of the deepest respect; but, at the same time, he certainly started upon a high and a rather hazardous theory--to wit, that of a man of consequence, who wished to be considered with respect to Dunroe rather as a patron than a dependent.

The fellow, we should have stated to the reader, was originally from Kerry, though he adopted Connaught, and consequently had a tolerable acquaintance with Latin and Greek--an acquisition which often stood him in stead through life; joined to which was an a.s.surance that nothing short of a scrutiny such as Morty O'Maherty's could conquer.

"I a.s.sure you, my lord," he replied, "you quite overrate any trifling services I may have rendered to my friend Dunroe. Upon my soul and honor you do. I have done nothing for him--that is, nothing to speak of. But the truth is, I took a fancy to Dunroe; and I do a.s.sure you again, Lord Cullamore, that when I do take a fancy to any person--a rare case with me, I grant--I would go any possible lengths to serve him. Every man has his whim, my lord, and that is mine. I hope your lords.h.i.+p had a pleasant trip across Channel?"

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Norton; but I have been for some time past in delicate health, and am not now so capable of bearing the trip as formerly. Still I feel no reason to complain, although far from strong.

Dunroe, I perceive, is reduced considerably by his wound and the consequent confinement."

"Oh, naturally, of course, my lord; but a few days now will set him upon his legs."