The Absentee (31 page)

'There! did not I tell you how it would be?' cried Lord Clonbrony.

'My mother has not heard me, yet,' said Lord Colambre, laying his hand
upon his mother's arm, as she attempted to pass; 'hear me, madam, for
your own sake. You do not know what will happen, this very day—this
very hour, perhaps—if you do not listen to me.'

'And what will happen?' said Lady Clonbrony, stopping short.

'Ay, indeed; she little knows,' said Lord Clonbrony, 'what's hanging
over her head.'

'Hanging over my head?' said Lady Clonbrony, looking up; 'nonsense!
what?'

An execution, madam!' said Lord Colambre.

'Gracious me! an execution!' said Lady Clonbrony, sitting down again;
'but I heard you talk of an execution months ago, my lord, before my son
went to Ireland, and it blew over I heard no more of it.'

'If won't blow over now,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'you'll hear more of it
now. Sir Terence O'Fay it was, you may remember, that settled it then.'

'Well, and can't he settle it now? Send for him, since he understands
these cases; and I will ask him to dinner myself, for your sake, and be
very civil to him, my lord.'

'All your civility, either for my sake or your own, will not signify a
straw, my dear, in this case—anything that poor Terry could do, he'd
do, and welcome, without it; but he can do nothing.'

'Nothing!—that's very extraordinary. But I'm clear no one dare to
bring a real execution against us in earnest; and you are only trying to
frighten me to your purpose, like a child; but it shan't do.'

'Very well, my dear; you'll see—too late.'

A knock at the house door.

'Who is it?—What is it?' cried Lord Clonbrony, growing very pale.

Lord Colambre changed colour too, and ran downstairs. 'Don't let 'em
let anybody in, for your life, Colambre; under any pretence,' cried
Lord Clonbrony, calling from the head of the stairs; then running to the
window, 'By all that's good, it's Mordicai himself! and the people with
him.'

'Lean your head on me, my dear aunt,' said Miss Nugent. Lady Clonbrony
leant back, trembling, and ready to faint.

'But he's walking off now; the rascal could not get in—safe for the
present!' cried Lord Clonbrony, rubbing his hands, and repeating, 'safe
for the present!'

'Safe for the present!' repeated Lord Colambre, coming again into the
room. 'Safe for the present hour.'

'He could not get in, I suppose—oh, I warned all the servants well,'
said Lord Clonbrony,'and so did Terry. Ay, there's the rascal, Mordicai,
walking off, at the end of the street; I know his walk a mile off. Gad!
I can breathe again. I am glad he's gone. But he will come back and
always lie in wait, and some time or other, when we're off our guard
(unawares), he'll slide in.'

Slide in! Oh, horrid!' cried Lady Clonbrony, sitting up, and wiping away
the water which Miss Nugent had sprinkled on her face.

'Were you much alarmed?' said Lord Colambre, with a voice of tenderness,
looking at his mother first, but his eyes fixing on Miss Nugent.

'Shockingly!' said Lady Clonbrony; 'I never thought it would REELLY come
to this.'

'It will really come to much more, my dear,' said Lord Clonbrony, 'that
you may depend upon, unless you prevent it.'

'Lord! what can I do?—I know nothing of business; how should I, Lord
Clonbrony; but I know there's Colambre—I was always told that when he
was of age everything should be settled; and why can't he settle it when
he's upon the spot?'

'And upon one condition, I will,' cried Lord Colambre; 'at what loss to
myself, my dear mother, I need not mention.'

'Then I will mention it,' cried Lord Clonbrony; 'at the loss it will be
of nearly half the estate he would have had, if we had not spent it.'

'Loss! Oh, I am excessively sorry my son's to be at such a loss—it must
not be.'

'It cannot be otherwise,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'nor it can't be this
way either, my Lady Clonbrony, unless you comply with his condition, and
consent to return to Ireland.'

'I cannot—I will not,' replied Lady Clonbrony. 'Is this your condition,
Colambre?—I take it exceedingly ill of you. I think it very unkind,
and unhandsome, and ungenerous, and undutiful of you, Colambre; you, my
son!' She poured forth a torrent of reproaches; then came to entreaties
and tears. But our hero, prepared for this, had steeled his mind; and he
stood resolved not to indulge his own feelings, or to yield to caprice
or persuasion, but to do that which he knew was best for the happiness
of hundreds of tenants who depended upon them—best for both his father
and his mother's ultimate happiness and respectability.

'It's all in vain,' cried Lord Clonbrony; 'I have no resource but one,
and I must condescend now to go to him this minute, for Mordicai will be
back and seize all—I must sign and leave all to Garraghty.'

'Well, sign, sign, my lord, and settle with Garraghty.—Colambre, I've
heard all the complaints you brought over against that man. My lord
spent half the night telling them to me; but all agents are bad, I
suppose; at any rate I can't help it—sign, sign, my lord; he has
money—yes, do; go and settle with him, my lord.'

Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent, at one and the same moment, stopped
Lord Clonbrony as he was quitting the room, and then approached Lady
Clonbrony with supplicating looks; but she turned her head to the other
side, and, as if putting away their entreaties, made a repelling
motion with both her hands, and exclaimed, 'No, Grace Nugent!-no,
Colambre—no—no, Colambre! I'll never hear of leaving Lon'on—there's
no living out of Lon'on—I can't, I won't live out of Lon'on, I say.'

Her son saw that the LONDONOMANIA was now stronger than ever upon her,
but resolved to make one desperate appeal to her natural feelings,
which, though smothered, he could not believe were wholly extinguished;
he caught her repelling hands, and pressing them with respectful
tenderness to his lips—

'Oh, my dear mother, you once loved your son,' said he; 'loved him
better than anything in this world; if one spark of affection for him
remains, hear him now, and forgive him, if he pass the bounds—bounds
he never passed before of filial duty. Mother, in compliance with your
wishes my father left Ireland—left his home, his duties, his friends,
his natural connexions, and for many years he has lived in England, and
you have spent many seasons in London.'

'Yes, in the very best company—in the very first circles,' said Lady
Clonbrony; 'cold as the high-bred English are said to be in general to
strangers.'

'Yes,' replied Lord Colambre; 'the very best company (if you mean the
most fashionable) have accepted of our entertainments. We have forced
our way into their frozen circles; we have been permitted to breathe in
these elevated regions of fashion; we have it to say, that the duke of
this, and my lady that, are of our acquaintance. We may say more; we
may boast that we have vied with those whom we could never equal. And at
what expense have we done all this? For a single season, the last winter
(I will go no farther), at the expense of a great part of your timber,
the growth of a century—swallowed in the entertainments of one winter
in London! Our hills to be bare for another half century to come! But
let the trees go; I think more of your tenants—of those left under the
tyranny of a bad agent, at the expense of every comfort, every hope they
enjoyed!—tenants, who were thriving and prosperous; who used to smile
upon you, and to bless you both! In one cottage, I have seen—'

Here Lord Clonbrony, unable to restrain his emotion, hurried out of the
room.

'Then I am sure it is not my fault,' said Lady Clonbrony; 'for I brought
my lord a large fortune; and I am confident I have not, after all, spent
more any season, in the best company, than he has among a set of low
people, in his muddling, discreditable way.'

'And how has he been reduced to this?' said Lord Colambre. 'Did he
not formerly live with gentlemen, his equals, in his own country; his
contemporaries? Men of the first station and character, whom I met in
Dublin, spoke of him in a manner that gratified the heart of his son;
he was respectable and respected at his own home; but when he was forced
away from that home, deprived of his objects, his occupations induced
him to live in London, or at watering-places, where he could find no
employments that were suitable to him—set down, late in life, in the
midst of strangers, to him cold and reserved—himself too proud to bend
to those who disdained him as an Irishman—is he not more to be pitied
than blamed for—yes, I, his son, must say the word—the degradation
which has ensued? And do not the feelings, which have this moment forced
him to leave the room, show that he is capable?—Oh, mother!' cried Lord
Colambre, throwing himself at Lady Clonbrony's feet, 'restore my father
to himself! Should such feelings be wasted?—No; give them again to
expand in benevolent, in kind, useful actions; give him again to
his tenantry, his duties, his country, his home; return to that home
yourself, dear mother! leave all the nonsense of high life—scorn the
impertinence of these dictators of fashion, by whom, in return for all
the pains we take to imitate, to court them—in return for the sacrifice
of health, fortune, peace of mind, they bestow sarcasm, contempt,
ridicule, and mimickry!'

'Oh, Colambre! Colambre! mimickry—I'll never believe it.'

'Believe me—believe me, mother; for I speak of what I know. Scorn
them—quit them! Return to an unsophisticated people—to poor, but
grateful hearts, still warm with the remembrance of your kindness, still
blessing you for favours long since conferred, ever praying to see you
once more. Believe me, for I speak of what I know—your son has heard
these prayers, has felt these blessings. Here! at my heart felt, and
still feel them, when I was not known to be your son, in the cottage of
the widow O'Neill.'

'Oh, did you see the widow O'Neill? and does she remember me?' said Lady
Clonbrony.

'Remember you! and you, Miss Nugent! I have slept in the bed—I would
tell you more, but I cannot.'

'Well! I never should have thought they would have remembered me so
long!—poor people!' said Lady Clonbrony. 'I thought all in Ireland must
have forgotten me, it is now so long since I was at home.'

'You are not forgotten in Ireland by any rank, I can answer for that.
Return home, my dearest mother—let me see you once more among your
natural friends, beloved, respected, happy!'

'Oh, return! let us return home!' cried Miss Nugent, with a voice of
great emotion. 'Return, let us return home! My beloved aunt, speak to
us! say that you grant our request!'

She kneeled beside Lord Colambre, as she spoke.

'Is it possible to resist that voice—that look?' thought Lord Colambre.

'If anybody knew,' said Lady Clonbrony, 'if anybody could conceive, how
I detest the sight, the thoughts of that old yellow damask furniture, in
the drawing-room at Clonbrony Castle—'

'Good heavens!' cried Lord Colambre, starting up, and looking at his
mother in stupefied astonishment; 'is THAT what you are thinking of,
ma'am?'

'The yellow damask furniture!' said her niece, smiling. Oh, if that's
all, that shall never offend your eyes again. Aunt, my painted velvet
chairs are finished; and trust the furnishing that room to me. The
legacy lately left me cannot be better applied you shall see how
beautifully it will be furnished.'

'Oh, if I had money, I should like to do it myself; but it would take an
immensity to new furnish Clonbrony Castle properly.'

'The furniture in this house,' said Miss Nugent, looking round.

'Would do a great deal towards it, I declare,' cried Lady Clonbrony;
'that never struck me before, Grace, I protest—and what would not suit
one might sell or exchange here—and it would be a great amusement to
me—and I should like to set the fashion of something better in that
country. And I declare, now, I should like to see those poor people,
and that widow O'Neill. I do assure you, I think I was happier at home;
only, that one gets, I don't know how, a notion, one's nobody out of
Lon'on. But, after all, there's many drawbacks in Lon'on—and many
people are very impertinent, I'll allow—and if there's a woman in the
world I hate, it is Mrs. Dareville—and, if I was leaving Lon'on, I
should not regret Lady Langdale neither—and Lady St. James is as cold
as a stone. Colambre may well say FROZEN CIRCLES—these sort of people
are really very cold, and have, I do believe, no hearts. I don't verily
think there is one of them would regret me more—Hey! let me
see, Dublin—the winter Merrion Square—new furnished—and the
summer—Clonbrony Castle!'

Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent waited in silence till her mind should
have worked itself clear. One great obstacle had been removed; and now
that the yellow damask had been taken out of her imagination, they no
longer despaired. Lord Clonbrony put his head into the room.

'What hopes?—any? if not, let me go.'

He saw the doubting expression of Lady Clonbrony's countenance—hope in
the face of his son and niece.

'My dear, dear Lady Clonbrony, make us all happy by one word,' said he,
kissing her.

'You never kissed me so since we left Ireland before,' said Lady
Clonbrony. 'Well, since it must be so, let us go,' said she.

'Did I ever see such joy!' said Lord Clonbrony, clasping his hands; 'I
never expected such joy in my life!—I must go and tell poor Terry!' and
off he ran.

'And now, since we are to go,' said Lady Clonbrony, 'pray let us
go immediately, before the thing gets wind, else I shall have Mrs.
Dareville, and Lady Langdale, and Lady St. James, and all the world,
coming to condole with me, just to satisfy their own curiosity; and then
Miss Pratt, who hears everything that everybody says, and more than they
say, will come and tell me how it is reported everywhere that we are
ruined. 'Oh! I never could bear to stay and hear all this.
I'll tell you what I'll do—you are to be of age the day after
to-morrow, Colambre—very well, there are some papers for me to sign—I
must stay to put my name to them, and that done, that minute I'll leave
you and Lord Clonbrony to settle all the rest; and I'll get into my
carriage with Grace, and go down to Buxton again; where you can come for
me, and take me up, when you're all ready to go to Ireland—and we shall
be so far on our way. Colambre, what do you say to this?'