yi&'^r iLj'jZZ. "mjmMl mm WE0MMM MB mm %xs§g Cornell University Library PR 4884.D3 1859 Davenport Dunn, a man of our day 3 1924 013 516 269 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924013516269 ^i^T ¥\iojini^ri^cf, id u jr n (_? -v DAVENPORT DUNN A MAN OF OTJE DAY CHARLES LEYER, WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY "PHIZ." LONDON : CHAPMAN. AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. MDCOCLIX. THE MOST NOBLE THE MARQUESS OF NORMANBY, KG. &c. &c. &c. &c. My deae Loed Noemanby, If the kind interest with which you followed this story, while I was writing it, might naturally suggest my desire to dedicate it to your name, I am equally prompted by another motive — my wish to record all the pride I feel in the honour of your friendship and the confidence of your intimacy ; nor is this feeling lessened as I re- member that I am about to leave the neighbourhood in which I have so long enjoyed the charm of your acquaintance. Believe me, my dear Lord, that in my removal I recognise no greater deprivation to myself than the loss of that intercourse ; and with this assurance I beg to remain, Yery sincerely and faithfully yours, CHAELES LEVEE. Casa Capponi, Florence, March 10, 1859. CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE L— Hydropathic Acquaintances . . . . . 1 II. — How two "Fine Ladies" pass the Morning . . . 11 HE.— A Father and a Daughter . . . . .22 TV— One who would be a " Sharp Fellow" . . . 33 V.— The World's Changes . . . . . .42 VI. — Sybella Kellett . . . . . . . 52 VEI. — An Arrival at Midnight . . . . . .58 VHL— Mr. Dunn .... . . 65 IX.— A Day on the Lake or Como . ... 74 X.— A " Small Dinner" . . . . . . . 82 XI. — "A Consultation" . . . . . . .92 XII.— Annesley Beecher's "Pal" . . . . . . 97 Xin.— A Message prom Jack .... . 109 XIV".— A Dinner at Paul Kellett's . ... 117 XV.— A Home Scene ... ... 129 XVI.— Davis versus Dunn ... ... 137 XVII.— The "Pensionnat Godarde" ..... 142 XVni.— Some Doings op Mr. Driscoll . . . . . 148 XIX.— Driscoll in Conference ... • . 157 XX.— An Evening with Grog Davis . . • . 161 VI CONTENTS. CHAP. PAGE XXI— "ADaekDay" 172 XXII— Aftee a Dinner Party . . . • • 184 XXIII.— A Bkeakeast-table ...... 193 XXIV.— The Cottage 201 XXV.-A Churchyard 208 XXYL— The Ostend Packet 213 XXVII.— A Visit op Condolence . • . ■ -225 XXVHL— The Hermitage at Glengarift ... -230 XXIX.— A Morning at Ostend . . • • • -238 XXX.-THE Opera -243 XXXI— Explanations .... • 257 XXXn.— The Coupis on the Rail 262 XXXIII— The "Pour Nations" at Aix 267 XXXrV.— Aix-la-Chapelle, . ..... 274 XXXV.— A Poreign Count 282 XXXVI.— A Country Visit 289 XXXVIL— "A Man in Request" 299 XXXVin. — Mr. Davenport Dunn in more Moods than One . . 307 XXXIX.— "A Letter to Jack" 318 XL.— Schemes and Projects ..... 321 XLL— "A Country Walk" 326 XLIL— " The Germ op a Bold Stroke" 334 XLm.— The Garden 341 XLIV.— The Telegraphic Despatch. . . . . 347 XLV— "The Run por Gold" ... . 353 XLVL— A Note prom Davis 366 XLVII. — Lazarus Stein, Geldwechsler .... 373 XLVIIL— A Village near the Rhine . . . 385 XLLX.— Imminent Tidings - . . . . .396 L. — A Discursive Conversation . . . . . 404 LI.— A Pamily Meeting ...... 410 Lll.— A Saunter by Moonlight .... . 417 LILL— A Ride to Neuweid . . . . . .439 CONTENTS. Vll CHAP. PAGE LIV.— How Grog Davis discoursed, and Annesley Beeoher LISTENED . 436 LV. — Reflections op Annesley Beecher . . . 449 LVI. — A Dark Confidence ... . . . . 457 LVIL— Some Days at Glengarife . . . . 466 LVTLL— A Bridle-path . . . . . . .481 LEX— The Discovery 492 IX. — The Double Blunder ...... 502 LXI. — Downing-street . . . . . . 513 LXLT. — The Cottage near Snowdon ..... 526 LXIII.— A Supper 532 LXTV— A Shock . . . . . . , .541 LXV.— A Master and Man . . . . . . 545 LXVL— Annesley Beecher in a New Part .... 554 LXVII.— A Dead Heat . . . . . . . 563 LXVEH.— Stunning Tidings . . . . . .577 LXIX.— Unpleasant Explanations . . . . . 587 LXX.— OVERREACHINGS . .... 596 LXXL— At Eome . . . . . . . . 609 LXXIL— The Two Viscountesses . 622 LXXIIL— Mas. Seacole's ... . . 636 LXXIV.— The Convent of St. George ..... 641 LXXV.— Showing " how "Wounds are Healed" . . . 649 LXXVL— " Grog" in Council 660 LXXVIL— The Train 672 LXXVIIL-The Trial . .... 681 LXXIX.— :The End of all Things . . . 689 LIST OF PLATES. Frontispiece — Vignette Title. page Hydropathic Patients 5 Mr. Spicer and two "Fine Ladies" 16 Mr. Beecher 34 Votaries op Hydropathy 59 "The Rehearsal" 78 "The Faint" 89 A Friend op Jack's 112 The Pony Eace 125 Going Home, '. 130 The Princess 144 Grog Davis practising the Mississippi Dodge 161 Conway on Escort Duty 182 A Breakfast-table 194 Paul Kellett's Warning 205 The "Princess" at the Opera 251 The Duel 255 The Count 280 Klepper 286 The Task 303 Calypso's Grotto 316 Lord Glengaripp Building a pew Castles 331 The Despatch 345 Dunn Addressing the Mob 362 Lazarus Stein 381 The Eev. Paul poraging 387 The Eev. Paul returning with Despatches 398 A Saunter by Moonlight 418 A Bottle op Marcobrunner and a Bottle op Smoke ~ 434 MissBella's Court 472 Catching a Colonel 475 Mr. Hankes thinks he had better turn back 487 Mr. Hankes in a Fix 493 The Strange Visitor 529 My Lord 538 The Stepping-stones * 562 The Game at Piquet : 564 A New Name 581 Travellers' Dust 605 The Two Viscountesses 630 Charley the Smasher , 639 Holy Paul in a Fix 653 The Vision 655 DAVENPORT DUNN A MAN OF OTTK DAT. CHAPTEE I. HYDROPATHIC ACQUAINTANCES. "We are at Como, on the lake — that spot so beloved of opera dancers — the day-dream of prima donnas — the Elysium of retired barytones ! And with what reason should this he the Paradise of all who have lived and sighed, and warbled and pirouetted, within the charmed circle of the footlights ? The crystal waters mirroring every cliff and crag with intense distinctness ; the vegetation varie- gated to the very verge of extravagance ; orange-trees overloaded with fruit; arbutus only too much bespangled with red berries; villas, more coquettish than ever scene-painter conceived, with vistas of rooms within, all redolent of luxury ; terraces, and statues, and vases, and fountains, and marble balconies, steeped in a thousand balmy odours, make up a picture which well may fascinate those whose ideal of beauty is formed of such gorgeous groupings. There is something of unreality in the brilliant colouring and variety of the scene suggesting the notion, that at any moment the tenor may emerge, velvet mantle and all, from the copse before you ; or a prima donna, in all the disheVelment of her back hair, rush madly to your feet. There is not a portal from which an angry father may not issue ; not a shady walk that might not be trod by an incensed basso ! The rustic bridges seem made for the tiny feet of short-petticoated damsels, daintily tripping, with white-napkin covered baskets, to soft music ; and every bench appears but waiting for that wearied old pea- sant, in blue stockings, a staff, and a leather belt, that has vented his B DATENrOBT DUNN. tiresomeness in the same spot for the last half century. "Who wonders, if the distracted Princess of " the scene " should love a picture that recals the most enthusiastic triumphs of her success ? "Why should not the retired " Peri" like to wander at will through a more en- chanting garden than ever she pirouetted in ? Conspicuous amongst the places where these stage-like elements abound is the Villa d'Este ; situated in a little bay, with two jutting promontories to guard it, the ground offers every possible variety of surface and elevation. From the very edge of the calm lake, terrace rises above terrace, clad with all that is rich and beautiful in vegetation; rocks, and waterfalls, and ruins, and statues abound. Everything that money could buy, and bad taste suggest, are there heaped with a profusion that is actually confounding. Every stone stair leads to some new surprise ; every table-land opens some fresh and astonishing prospect. Incongruous, inharmonious, tea-gardenish as it is, there is still a charm in the spot which no efforts of the vilest taste seem able to eradicate. The vines will cluster in grace- ful groupings ; the oranges will glow in gorgeous contrast to their dark mantle of leaves ; water will leap with its own spontaneous gladness, and fall in diamond showers over a grassy carpet no emerald ever rivalled; and, more than all, the beautiful lake itself will reflect the picture, -with such softened effects of light and shadow, that all the perversions of human ingenuity are totally lost in the transmission. This same Villa d'Este was once the scene of a sad drama ; but it is not to this era in its history we desire now to direct our reader's attention, but to a period much later, when no longer the home of an exiled Princess, or the retreat where shame and sorrow abandoned themselves to every excess, its changed fortune had converted it into an establishment for the water cure ! The prevailing zeal of our day is to simplify everything, even to things which will not admit of simplicity. "What with our local athenEeums, our mechanics' institutes, our lecturing lords and dis- coursing baronets, we have done a great deal. Science has been, popularised, remote geographies made familiar, complex machinery explained, mysterious inscriptions rendered intelligible. How could it be expected that in the general enthusiasm for useful knowledge medicine should escape, or that its secrets should be exempt from a scrutiny that has spared nothing ? Hence have sprung up those various sects in the curative art which, professing to treat rationally and openly what hitherto has been shrouded in mysticism and de- ception, have multiplied themselves aato grape tsures, milk cures, and DAVETTPOBT BTON. 3 water cures, and Heaven knows how many other strange devices " to cheat the ills that flesh is heir to." "We are not going to quarrel with any of these new religions ; we forgive them much for the simple service they have done, in with- drawing their followers from the confined air, the laborious life, the dreary toil, or the drearier dissipation of cities, to the fresh and invigorating breezes, the cheerful quietude, and the simple pleasures of a country existence. We care little for the regimen or the ritual, be it lentils or asses' milk, Tyrol grapes, or pure water, so that it be administered on the breezy mountain side, or in the healthful air of some lofty "Plateau," away from the cares, the ambitions, the strife, and the jar- rings of the active world, with no seductions of dissipation, neither the prolonged stimulants, nor the late hours of fashion. It was a good thought, too, to press the picturesque into the service of health, and show the world what benefits may flow, even to nerves and muscles, from elevated thoughts and refined pleasures. All this is, however, purely digressionary, since we are more concerned with the social than the medical aspects of Hydropathy, and so we come back at once to Como. The sun has just risen, on a fresh morning in autumn, over the tall mountain east of the lake, making the whole western shore, where the Villa d'Este stands, all a-glitter with his rays. Every rock, and crag, and promontory are picked out with a sharp distinctness, every window is a-blaze, and streams of light shoot into many a grove and copse, as though glad to pierce their way into cool spots where the noonday sun himself can never enter. On the opposite shore, a dim and mysterious shadow wraps every object, feint outlines of tower and palace loom through the darkness, and a strange hazy depth encloses the whole scene. Such is the stillness, however, that the opening of a easement, or the plash of a stone in the water, is heard across the lake, and voices come from the mysterious gloom with an effect almost preternaturally striking. On a terrace high up above the lake, sheltered with leafy fig-trees and prickly pears, there walks a gentleman, sniffing the morning air, and evidently bent on inhaling health at every pore. . Nothing in his appearance indicates the invalid:; every gesture, as he moves, rather displays a coaseious sense of health and vigour. Somewhat above the middle size, compactly but not heavily built, it is very difficult to guess his years ; for though his hair and the large whiskers which meet beneath his chin are perfectly white, his clear blue eyes and regular teeth show no signs of age. Singularly enough, it is his dress that gives the clue to this mystery. His tightly-fitting b2 4 DAVENPOET DUNN. frock, his bell-shaped hat, and his shapely trousers, all tell of a fashion antecedent to our loosely-hanging vestments and uncared-for gar- ments ; for the Yiscount Lackington was a lord in waiting to the " First Gentleman" in Europe at a time when Paletots were unknown, and Jim Crows had not been imagined. Early as was the hour, his dress was perfect in all its details, and the accurate folds of his immaculate cravat, and the spotless brilliancy of his boots, would have done credit to Bond-street in days when Bond-street cherished such glories. Let our modern critics sneer as they will at the dandyism of that day, the gentleman of the time was a very distinctive individual, and, in the subdued colour of his habili- ments, their studious simplicity, and, above all, their unvarying uni- formity, utterly defied all the attempts of spurious imitators. Our story opens only a few years back, and Lord Lackington was then one of the very few who perpetuated the traditions in costume of that celebrated period ; but he did so with such unerring accuracy, that men actually wondered where those marvellously shaped hats were made, or how those creaseless coats were ever fashioned. Even to the perfume of his handkerchief, the faintest and most evanescent of odours, all were mysteries that none could penetrate. As he surveyed the landscape through his double eye-glass, he smiled graciously and blandly, and gently inclined his head, as though to say, " Very prettily done, water and mountains. I'm quite satisfied with you, trees; you please me very much indeed! Trickle away little fountain — the picture is the better for it." THh Lordship had soon, however, other objects to engage his attention than the inani- mate constituents of the scene. The spot which he had selected for his point of view was usually traversed, in their morning walks, by the other residents of the " Cure," and this circumstance permitted him to receive the homage of such early risers as were fain to couple with their pursuit of health the recognition of a great man. Like poverty, hydropathy makes us acquainted with strange as- sociates. The present establishment was too recently formed to have acquired any very distinctive celebrity, but it was sufficiently crowded. There was a great number of third-rate Italians from the Lombard towns and. cities, a sprinkling of inferior French, a few English, a stray American or so, and an Irish family, on their way to Italy, sojourning here rather for economy than health, and fancying that they were acquiring habits and manners that would serve them through their winter's campaign. The first figure which emerged upon the plateau was that of a man so swathed in great-coat, cap, and worsted wrappers, that it was WW" BATENPOBT DUTTN. 5 difficult to guess what he could be. He came forward at a shambling trot, and was about to pass on without looking aside, when Lord Lackington called out, " Ah ! Spicer, have you got off that eleven pounds yet ?" " No, my Lord, but very near it. I'm seven stone ten, and at seven eight I'm all right." " Push along, then, and don't lose your training," said his Lord- ship, dismissing him with a bland wave of the hand. And the other made an attempt at a salutation, and passed on. " Madame la Marquise, your servant. Tou ascend these mountain steeps like a chamois !" This compliment was addressed to a little, very fat old lady, who came snorting along like a grampus. " Benedetto Dottbre !" cried she. " He will have it that I must go up to the stone cross yonder every morning before breakfast, and I know I shall burst a blood-vessel yet in the attempt." A chair, with a mass of horse-clothing and furs, surmounted by a little yellow wizened face, was next borne by, to which Lord Lack- ington bowed courteously, 'saying, " Tour Excellency improves at every hour." His Excellency gave a brief nod and a little faint smile, swallowed a mouthful from a silver flask presented by his servant, and dis- appeared. "Ah! the fair syren sisters! what a charming vision!" said his Lordship, as two bright-cheeked, laughing-eyed girls bounced upon the terrace in all the high-hearted enjoyment of good health and good spirits. " Molly, for shame !" cried what seemed the elder, a damsel of about nineteen, as the younger, holding out her dress with both hands, per- formed a kind of minuet curtsey to the Viscount, to which he re- sponded with a bow that might have done cre*dit to Versailles. " Perfectly done — grace and elegance itself. The foot a little — a very little more in advance." " Just because you ( want to look at it," cried she, laughing. " Molly, Molly !" exclaimed the other, rebukingly. "Let him deny it if he can, Lucy," retorted she, "But here's papa." And as she spoke, a square-built, short, florid man, fanning his bald head with a straw hat, puffed his way. forward. " My Lord, I'm your most obaydient !" said he, with a very un- mistakably Irish enunciation. " O'Beilly, I'm delighted to see you. These charming girls of 6 DAVEHPOET DTJITK. yours have just put me in good humour with the whole creation. What a lovely spot this is ; how beautiful!" Though his Lordship's arm and outstretched hand directed atten- tion to the scenery, his eyes never wandered from the pretty features of the laughing girl beside him. " It's like Banthry !" said Mr. O'Eeilly— " it's, the very ditto of Banthry." "Indeed!" exclaimed my Lord, still pursuing his scrutiny. " Only Banthry's bigger and wider. Indeed, I may say finer." " Nothing, in my estimation, can exceed this!" said his Lordship, with a distinctive smile, addressed to the young lady. " I'm glad you 'think so," said she, with a merry laugh. And then, with a pirouette, she sprang up the steep steps on the rocky path before her, and disappeared, her sister as quickly following, leaving Mr. O'Beilly alone with his Lordship. " "What heaps of money she laid out here," exclaimed O'Beilly, as he looked at the labyrinth of mad ruins,, and rustic bridges, and hang- ing gardens on every side of him. " Large sums — very large indeed !" said my Lord, whose thoughts Were evidently on some other track. " Pure waste — nothing else ; the place never eould pay. Vines and fig-trees, indeed — I'd rather see a crop of oats." "I have a weakness for the picturesque, I must own," said my Lord, as his eye still followed the retreating figures of the girls. "Well, I like a waterfall; and, indeed, I like a summer-house myself," said O'Beilly, as though confessing to a similar trait on his own part. " This is the first time you have been abroad, O'Eeilly?" said his Lordship, to turn the subject of the conversation. " Tes, my Lord, my first, and, with God's blessing, my last, too ! When I lost Mrs. O'Beilly, two years ago, of a complaint that beat all the doctors " " Ah, yes, you mentioned that to me ; very singular indeed !" " For it wasn't in the heart itself, my Lord, but in the bag that houlds it." " Oh yes, I remember the explanation perfectly ; so you thought you'd just come abroad for a little distraction." "Distraction indeed! 'tis the very word for it," broke in Mr. O'Eeilly, eagerly. " My head is bewildered between the lingo and the money, and they keep telling me, ' You'll get used to it, papa, darling— you'll be quite at home yet.' But how is that ever possible?" " Still, for your charming girls' sake," said my Lord, caressing his DAVENTOET DUNS. / ■whiskers and adjusting hia neckcloth, as if for immediate captivation — '"for their sake, O'Eeilly, you've done perfectly right !" "Well, I'm glad your Lordship says so. 'Tis nobody ought to know better !" said he, with a heavy sigh. " They really deserve every cultivation. All the advantages, that — that — that sort of thing cau bestow !i" And his Lordship smiled benignly, as though offering his own aid to the educational system. " What they said to me was this," said O'Eeilly, dropping his voice to a tone of the most confiding secrecy: "'Don't be keeping them down here in Mary's Abbey, but take them where they'll see life. You can give them forty thousand pounds between them, Tim O'Eeilly, and with that and their own good looks ' " "Beauty, O'Eeilly — downright loveliness," broke in my Lord. " Well, indeed, they axe handsome," said O'Eeilly, with an honest satisfaction, " and that's exactly why I thought the advice was good. ' Take them abroad,' they said ; ' take them into Germany and Italy — but more especially Italy' — for they say there's nothing like Italy for finishing young ladies." "That is certainly the general impression!" said his Lordship? with the barest imaginable motion of his nether lip. " And here we are, but where we're going afterwards, and what we'll do when we're there, that thief of a Courier we have may know, but I don't." "So that you gave up> business, O'Eeilly, and resigned yourself freely to a life of ease," said my Lord, with a smile that seemed to approve the project. " Tes, indeed, my Lord ; but whether it's to be a life of pleasure, I don't know. I was in the provision trade thirty-eight years, and do you know I miss the pigs greatly." " Every man has a hankering of that sort. Old cosmopolite as I am, I have every now and then my longing for that window at Brookes's, and that snug dinner-room at Boodle's." " Yes, my Lord," said O'Eeilly, who hadn't the faintest conception whether these localities were not situated in China. "Ah, Twining, never thought to see you here," called out his Lord- ship> to a singularly tall man, who came forward with such awkward contortions of legs and arms, as actually to suggest the notion that he was struggling against somebody. Mr. O'Eeilly modestly stole away while the friends were shaking hands, and we take the same oppor- tunity to present the new arrival, to our reader. Mr. Adderley Twining was a gentleman of good family and very 8 DAY.ENPOBT DUNN. large fortune, whose especial pleasure it was to pass off to the world for a gay, light-hearted, careless creature, of small means, and most- lavish liberality. To be, in fact, perpetually struggling between a most generous temperamentand a narrow purse. His cordiality was extreme, his politeness unbounded ; and as he was most profuse in his pledges for the present and his promises for the future, he attained, to a degree of popularity which to his own estimation was immense. This was, in fact, the one sole self-deception of his very crafty nature,, and the belief that he was a universal favourite was the solitary mis- take of this shrewd intelligence. Although a married man, there was so constantly some "difficulty" or other-^-these were his own words— about Lady Grace, that they seldom were seen together ; but he spoke of her when absent in terms of the most fervent affection, but whose health, or spirits, or tastes, or engagements unhappily denied her the happiness of travelling along with him. "Whenever it chanced that they were together, he scarcely mentioned her. "And what breeze of fortune has wafted you here, Twining?" said his Lordship, delighted' to chance upon a native of his own world. "Health, my Lord, — health," said he, with one of his ready laughs, as though everything he said or thought had some comic side in it that amused him, " and a touch of economy too, my Lord." " What humbug all that is, Twining. Who the deuce is. so well off as yourself?" said Lord Lackington, with all that peculiar bitterness with which an embarrassed man listens to the grumblings of a wealthy one. " Only too happy, my Lord — rejoiced if you were right. Capital" news for me, eh ? — excellent news !" And he slapped his lean legs with his long thin fingers, and laughed immoderately. " Come, come, we all know that — besides a devilish good thing of your own — you got the Wrexley estate, and old Poole's Dorsetshire property. Hang me if I ever open a newspaper without reading that you are somebody's residuary legatee." " I assure you, solemnly, my Lord, I am actually hard up, pressed for money, downright inconvenienced." And he laughed again, as though it were uncommonly droll. " Stuff— nonsense !" said my Lord, angrily, for he really was losing temper; and to change the topic he curtly asked, "And where do you mean to pass the winter ?" , " In Florence, my Lord, or Naples. We have a little den in both places." DAVENPORT DUNK. 9 The " den" in Florence was a sumptuous palace on the Amo. Its brother at Naples was a royal villa near Posilippo. " Why not Borne ? Lady Lackington and myself mean to try Eome." " Ah, all very well for you, my Lord, but for people of small for- tune " There was that in the expression of his Lordship's face that told Twining this vein might be followed too far, and so he stopped in time, and laughed away pleasantly. ' "Spicer tells me," resumed Lord Lackington, "that Florence is quite deserted ; nothing but a kind of second and third rate set of people go there. Is that so ?" " Excellent people, capital society, great fun !" said Twining, in a burst of merriment. " Spicer calls them ' Snobs,' and he ought to know." " So he ought indeed, my Lord — no one better. Admirably ob- served, and very just." "He's in training again for that race that never comes off," said his Lordship. " The first time I ever saw him — it was at Leaming- ton — and he was performing the same farce, with hot baths and blankets, and jotting down imaginary bets in a small note-book." " How good — capital ! Tour Lordship has him perfectly — you know him thoroughly — great fun ! Spicer, excellent creature !" " How those fellows live is a great mystery to me. Tou chance upon them everywhere, in Baden or Aix in summer, in Paris or Vienna during the winter. Now, if they were amusing rogues, like that fellow I met at your house in Hampshire " "Oh, Stockley, my Lord; rare fellow, quite a genius!" laughed Twining. " Just so — Stockley; one would have them just to help over the boredom of a country house ; but this creature Spicer is as devoid of amusing gifts, as tiresome, and as worn out, as if he owned ten thou- sand a year." " How good, by Jove !" cried Twining, in ecstasy. And he slapped his gaunt limbs and threw his long arms wildly about in a transport of delight. "And who are here, Twining — any of our set ?" " Not a soul, my Lord ; the place isn't known yet, that's the reason I came here — so quiet and so cheap, make your own terms with them. Good fun — excellent !" " / came to meet a man of business," said his Lordship, with a 10 BATENPOET DUNN. strong emphasis on the pronoun. "He couldn't prolong his journey farther south, and so we agreed to rendezvous here." " I have a little affair also to transact — a mere trifle, a nothing, in fact — with a lawyer, who promises to meet me here by the end of the month, so that we have just time to take our baths, drink the waters, and all that sort of thing, while we are waiting." And he rubbed his hands, and laughed away again. " What a boon for my wife to learn that Lady Grace is here ! She was getting so hipped with the place — not so much, the place as the odious people — that I suspect she'd have left me to wait for Dunn all alone." " Dunn ! Dunn ! not Davenport Dunn ?" exclaimed Twining. " The very man — do you know him ?" " To be sure, he's the fellow I'm waiting for. Capital fun, isn't it?" And he slapped his legs again, while he repeated the name of Dunn over and over again. " I want to know something about this same Mr. Dunn," said Lord Lackmgton, confidentially. " So do I ; like it of all things," cried Twining. " Clever fellow — wonderful fellow — up to everything — acquainted with everybody. Great fun!" " He occupies a very distinguished position in Ireland, I fancy," said his Lordship, with such a marked stress on the locality as to show that such did not constitute an imperial reputation. " Tes, yes, man of the day there ; do what he likes ; very popular —immensely popular!" said Twining, as he laughed on. " So that you know no more of him than his public repute — no more than I know myself," said his Lordship. " JSot so much as your Lordship, I'm certain," said Twining, as though it would have been unbecoming in him to do so ; "in fact, my business transactions are such mere nothings, that it's quite a kindness on his part to undertake them — trifles, no more !" And Twining almost hugged himself in the ecstasy which his last words suggested. "Mine," said Lord Lackington, haughtily, "are of consequence enough to fetch him hither — a good thousand miles away from England ; but he is pretty certain of its being well worth his while to come." " Quite convinced of that — could swear it," said Twining, eagerly. "Here are a mob of insufferable bores," said his Lordship, testily, DAYEOTOET DUSTS. H as a number of people were heard approaching, for somehow — it is not easy to say exactly why — he had got into a train of thought that seemed to worry him, and was not disposed to meet strangers;, and so, with a brief gesture of good-by to Twining, he turned into a path and disappeared. Twining looked after him for a second or two, and then slapping his legs, he muttered, pleasantly, "What fun!" and took the road towards the house. CHAPTEE H. HOW TWO "TINE LADIES" PASS THE MORNING. In a room of moderate size, whose furniture was partly composed of bygone finery and some articles of modern comfort — a kind of compromise between a Eoyal residence and a Hydropathic establish- ment — sat two ladies at an open window, which looked out upon a small terrace above the lake. The view before them could scarcely have been surpassed in Europe. Enclosed, as in a frame, between the snow-clad Alps and the wooded mountains of the Brianza, lay the lake, its shores one succession of beautiful villasj whose gardens descended to the very water. Although the sun was high, the great mountains threw the shadows half way across the lake ; and in the dim depth of shade, tower and crag, battlement and precipice, were strangely intermixed, giving to the picture a mysterious grandeur that contrasted strongly with the bright reality of the opposite shore, where fruit and flowers, gay tapestries from casements, and floating banners, added colour to the scene. Large white-sailed boats stole peacefully along, loaded, half-mast high, with water-melons and garden stores ; the golden produce glit- tering in the sun, and glowing in the scarcely rippled water beneath them, while the low chant of the boatmen floated softly and lazily through the air — meet sounds in a scene where all seemed steeped in a voluptuous repose. The two ladies whom we have mentioned were not impassioned spectators of the scene. Whenever their eves ranged over it, no new brilliancy awoke in them, no higher colour tinged their cheek. One was somewhat advanced in life, but with many traces of beauty, and an air which denoted a lifelong habit of homage and deference. 12 , DAVENPOET VVNX. There was that in her easy, lounging attitude, and the splendour of her dress, which seemed to intimate that Lady Lackington would still be graceful, and even extravagant, though there were none to admire the grace or be dazzled by the costliness. Her companion, though several years younger, looked, from the effects of delicate health and a suffering disposition, almost of her own age. She, too, was hand- some ; but it was a beauty which so much depended on tint and colour, that her days of indisposition left her almost bereft of good, looks. All about her, her low, soft voice, her heavily raised eyelids, Ler fair and blue-veined hands, the very carriage of her head, pensively thrown forwards, were so many protestations of one who asked for sympathy and compassion ; and who, whether with reason or with- out, firmly believed herself the most unhappy creature in existence. If there was no great similarity of disposition to unite them, there was a bond fully as strong. They were both English of the same order, both born and bred up in a ritual that dictates its own notions of good or bad, of right and wrong, of well-bred and vulgar, of riches and poverty. Given any person in society, or any one event of their lives, and these two ladies' opinion upon either would have been certain to harmonise and agree. The world for them had but one aspect ; for the simple reason, that they had always seen it from the one same point of view. They had not often met ; they had seen very little of each other for years ; but the freemasonry of class supplied all the place of affection, and they were as fond and as confiding as though they were sisters. " I must say," said the Viscountess, in a tone full of reprobation, " that is shocking— actually shameful ; and, in your place, I'd not endure it !" " I have become so habituated to sorrow," sighed Lady Grace " That you will sink under it at last, my dear, if this man's cruelties be not put an end to. Tou really must allow me to speak to Lackington." " It wouldn't be of the slightest service, I assure you. In the first place, he is so plausible, he'd persuade any one that there was nothing to complain of, that he lived up to his fortune, that his means were actually crippled ; and secondly, he'd give such pledges for the future, such promises, that it would be downright rudeness to throw a doubt on their sincerity." " "Why did you marry him, my dear ?" said Lady Lackington, with a little sigh. " I married him to vex Eidout ; we had a quarrel at that fete at Chiswick, you remember, Tollertin's fete. Eidout was poor, and felt DAVENPORT DUNN. 13 his poverty. I don't believe I treated his scruples quite fairly. I know I owned to him that I had no contempt for riches — that I thought Belgrave-square, and the Opera, and Diamonds, and a smart Equipage, all very commendable things : and Jack said, ' Then, there's your man. Twining has twenty thousand a year.' ' But, he has not asked me,' said I, laughing. Bidout turned away without a word. Half an hour later, Mr. Adderley Twining formally proposed for my hand, and was accepted." " And Jack Bidout is now the Marquis of Allerton," said Lady Lackington. " I know it !" said the other, bitterly. " "With nigh forty thousand a year." " I know it!" cried she, again. " And the handsomest house and the finest park in England." The other burst into tears, and hid her face between her hands. " There's a fate in these things, my dear," said Lady Lackington, with a slight paleness creeping over her cheek. " That's all we can say about them." " What have you done with that sweet place in Hampshire ?" " Dingley ? It is let to Lord Mauley." " And you had a house in St. James's-square." " It is Burridge's Hotel, now." Lady Lackington fanned her swarthy face for some seconds, and then said, " And how did you come here ?" " We saw — that is, Twining saw — an advertisement of this new establishment in the Galignani. We had just arrived at Liege, when he discovered a vetturino returning to Milan with an empty carriage ; he accordingly bargained with him to take us on here — I forget for what sum — so that we left our own carriage, and half my luggage, at the Pavilion Hotel, and set off on our three weeks' journey. We have been three weeks all but two days on the road ! My maid of course refused to travel in this fashion, and went back to Paris. Courcel, his own man, rebelled too, which Twining, I mnst say, seemed over- joyed at, and gave him such a character for honesty in consequence, as he never could have hoped for ; and so we came on, with George the footman, and a Belgian creature I picked up at the hotel, who, except to tear out my hair when she brushes it, and bruise me when- ever she hooks a dreBS, has really no other gift under heaven." " And you actually came all this way by vetturino ?" Lady Grace nodded a sad assent, and sighed deeply. " What does he mean by it, my dear? The man must have some deep, insidious design in all this ; — don't you think so ?" 14 PATENPOET DVSN. "I think so myself, sometimes," replied she, sorrowfully- And now their eyes met, and they remained looking steadily at each other for some seconds. Whatever Lady Grace's secret thoughts, or whatever the dark piercing orbs of her companion served to intimate, true is it that she blushed till her cheek became crimson ; and as she arose, and walked out upon the terrace, her neck was a-flame with the emotion. " He never married ?" said Lady Lackington. "No!" said Lady Grace, without turning her head. And there was a silence on both sides. Oh dear ! how much of the real story of our lives passes without expression — how much of the secret mechanism of our hearts moves without a sound in the machinery ! " Poor fellow !" said Lady Lackington, at last, " his lot is just as sad as your own. I mean," added she, " that he feels it so." There was no answer, and she resumed. " Not but men generally treat these things lightly enough. They have their clubs, and their Houses of Parliament, and their shooting. Are you ill, dearest ?" cried she, as Lady Grace tottered feebly back and sank into a chair. " No," said she, in a faint voice, " I'm only tired !" And there was an inexpressible melancholy in the tone as she spoke it " And I'm tired too !" said Lady Lackington, drearily. " There is a tyranny in the routine of these places quite insupportable — the hours, the discipline, the diet, and, worse than all, the dreadful people one meets with." Though Lady Grace did not seem very attentive, this was a theme the speaker loved to improve, and so she proceeded to discuss the house and its inhabitants in all freedom. French, Eussians, and Italians — all were passed in review, and very smartly criticised, till she arrived at " those atrocious O'Eeillys, that my Lord will persist in threatening to present to me. Now one knows horrid people when they are very rich, or very well versed in some speculation or other — mines, or railroads, or the like — and when their advice is so much actual money in your pocket — just, for in- stance, as my Lord knows that Mr. Davenport Dunn " " Oh ! he's a great ally of Mr. Twining ; at least, I have heard his name a hundred times in connexion with business matters." " You never saw him ?" "No." " Nor I, but once ; but I confess to have some curiosity to know him. They tell me he can do anything he pleases with each House of Par- liament, and has no inconsiderable influence in a sphere yet higher. It is quite certain that the old Duke of "Wycombe's affairs were all BAVENPOBT BUNT*. 15 set to rights by his agency, and lady Muddleton's divorce bill was passed by bis means." The word " divorce" seemed to rally Lady Grace from her fit of musing, and she said, " Is that certain ?" " Julia herself says so, that's all. He got a bill, or an act, «r a clause, or whatever you call it, inserted, by -which she succeeded in her suit, and she is now as free — as free " " As I am not !" broke in Lady Grace, with a sad effort at a smile. " To be sure, there is a little scandal in the matter, too. They say that old Lord Brookdale was very ' soft' himself in that quarter." " The Chancellor !" exclaimed Lady Grace. " And why not, dear ? Tou remember the old refrain, ' No age, no station' — what is it? — and the next line goes — ' To sovereign beauty mankind bends the knee.' Julia is rather proud of the triumph her- self; she says it is like a victory in China, where the danger is very little and the spoils considerable !" a Mr. Spieer, my Lady," said a servant, entering, "wishes to know if your Ladyship will receive him." " Not this morning ; say I'm engaged at present. Tell him But perhaps you have no objection — shall we have him in ?" " Just as you please. I don't know him." Lady Lackington whispered a word or two, and then added aloud, " And one always finds them ' useful,' my dear'!" Mr. Spieer, when denuded of top-coat, cap, and woollen wrapper, as we saw him last, was a slightly made man, middle->sized, and middle- aged, with an air sufficiently gentlemanlike to pass muster in any Ordinary assemblage. To borrow an illustration from the pursuits he was versed in, he bore the same relation to a man of fashion that a " weed" does to a " winner of the Derby" — that is to say, to an un- educated eye, there would have seemed some resemblance ; and just as the " weed " counterfeits the racer in a certain loose awkwardness of stride and an ungainly show of power, so did he appear to have cer- tain characteristics of a class that he merely mixed with on sufferance, and imitated in some easy " externals." The language of any profes- sion is, however, a great leveller ; and whether the cant be of the "House," "Westminster Hall, the College of Physicians, the Mess Table, or the " Turf," it is exceedingly difficult at first blush to dis- tinguish the real practitioner from the mere pretender. Now, Spieer was what is called a Gentleman Eider, and he had all the slang of his craft, which is, more or less, the slang of men who move ia a very different sphere. 16 DATENPOET DUNN. As great landed proprietors of ambitious tendencies will bestow a qualification to sit in Parliament upon some man of towering abilities and small fortune, so did certain celebrities of tlie Turf confer a similar social qualification on Spicer ; and by enabling him to " asso- ciate with.the, world'," empower themselves to utilise his talents and make use of his capabilities.' , In. this great Parliament of the Meld, therefore, Spicer sat; *anJd. though. for a, very small and obscure borough; yet he had;his place, 'and was "ready when wanted." "How d'ye do, Spicer?" said' Lady Lackington, arranging the folds of _ her ,-dresS. as he, came forward, and intimating by the action that he was not to delude himself into any expectation of touching her hand. "My Lord told.me you,were;here." Spicer be-wefd," and muttered, and.looked, as though he were wait- ing -to be formally presented 'to: .the other x lady in company.; but Lady Lackington 'had : not-the;m<}st remote intention of bestowing on him such a mark of recognition, and merely answered the mute appeal of his features by a dry " Won't you sit down ?" And Mr. Spicer did sit, down, and of a verity his position denoted no excess of ease or enjoyment. Tt,was : not that" he did not attempt to appear perfectly at home, that he did. not, assume an attitude -of the very calmest self-possession, maybe; he even passed somewhat the frontier of the lackadaisical territory he assumed, for he slapped his boot with' his whip;in..a jaunty affectation of indifference. " Pray, don't do that !" said Lady Lackington ; " it worries one !" He desisted; ;and a very awkward, silence of some seconds ensued; at length she said, " There was something or other I wanted to ask you about ; you can't help me to it, can you ?" .. " I'm afraid .< not, my ; Lady. Was it anything about sporting matters ?".,,, "No, no ; but now that you remind me, all that information you gave me about Glaucus was wrongs he. came in 'a bad third.' My Lord laughed at merfor losing my money on him, and said he was the worgt horse of the lot." < . • "Very, sorry to, differ with his Lordship," said Spicer, deferentially, " but he vas.the favpurite up Jo Tuesday evening, when Scott de- clared that' he'd win with Rig .the Market. .1 then, tried to get four to one on Flycatcher, > to- square your' book, but the stable was nobbled." .. „ . " Did you ever hear such jargon, my dear ?" said Lady Lackington. " You don't understand one syllable of it, I'm certain." Spicer smirked and made a slight approach to a bow, as though even this reference to him would serve for an introduction ; but Lady - DATEKPOET DUNN. 17 Grace met the advance with a haughty stare and a look, that said, as plainly as any -words, " At your peril, Sir !" " Well, one thing is certain !" said Lady Lackington, " nothing that you predicted turned out afterwards. Glaucus was heaten, and I lost my three hundred pounds — only fancy, dearest, three hundred pounds, with which, one could do so many things! I wanted it in fifty ways, and I never contemplated leaving it with the legs at New- market." " Not the legs, I assure you, my Lady — not the legs. I made your book with Colonel Stamford and Gore Middleton " " As if I cared who won it !" said she, haughtily. " I never knew that you tempted fortune in this fashion !" said Lady Grace, languidly. " I do so very rarely, my dear. I think Mining Shares are better, or Guatemala State Bonds. I realised very handsomely indeed upon them two years ago. To be sure it was Dunn that gave me the hint : he dined with us at the Hdtel de Windsor, and I asked him to pay a small sum for me to Hore's people, and when I counted the money out to him, he said, ' Why not buy in some of those Guanaxualo shares ; they'll be up to ' — I forget what he said — ' before a month . Let Storr wait, and you'll pay him in full.' And he was quite right, as I told you. I realised about eight hundred pounds on my venture." " If Glaucus had won, my Lady " " Don't tell me what I should have gained," broke she in. " It only provokes one the more, and above all, Spicer, no more informa- tion. I detest ' information.' And now, what was it I had to say to you ; really your memery would seem to be failing you completely. What could it be ?" " It couldn't be that roan filly " " Of course it couldn't. I really must endeavour to persuade you that my thoughts occasionally stray beyond the stable. By the way, you sold those grey carriage-horses for nothing. Tou always told me they were the handsomest pair in London, and yet you say I'm exceedingly lucky to get one hundred and eighty pounds for them." " You forget, my Lady, that Bloomfield was a roarer " " Well, you really are in a tormenting mood this morning, Spicer. Just bethink you, now, if there's anything more you have to say, dis- agreeable and unpleasant, and say it at once ; you have made lady Grace quite ill " " No, only tired !" sighed her friend, with a melancholy smile. " Now I remember," cried Lady Lackington, " it was about that house at Florence. I don't think we shall pass any time there but o 18 BATBNPOET DVXX. in case we should, I should like that Zapponi palace, with the large terrace on the Arno, and there must be no one on the ground-floor, mind that ; and I'll not give more than I gave formerly — perhaps not bo much. But, above all, remember, that if we decide to go on to Home, that I'm not bound to it in the least, and he must new-carpet that large drawing-room, and I must have the little boudoir hung in blue, with muslin over it, not pink. Pink is odious, except in a dressing-room. Tou will yourself look to the stables ; they require considerable alteration, and there's something about the dining-room — what was it ? — Lord Lackington will remember it. But perhaps I have given you as many directions as your head will bear." . " I almost think so too, my Lady," muttered he, with a half-dogged look. " And be sure, Spicer, that we have that cook — Antoine — if we should want him. Don't let him take a place till we decide where we shall stop." " Tou are aware that he insists on a hundred and fifty francs a month, and his wine." " I should like to know what good you are, if I am to negotiate with these creatures myself !" said she, haughtily. "I must say, Lady Grace will suspect that I have rather overrated your little talents, Spieer." And Lady Grace gave a smile that might mean any amount of approval or depreciation required. " I shall not want that saddle now, and you must make that man take it back again." " But I fear, my Lady " " There, don't be tiresome ! "What is that odious bell ? Oh, it's the dinner of these ereatures. Tou dine at the table d'hote, I think, so pray don't let us keep you. Tou can drop in to-morrow. Let me see, about two, or half-past. Good-by — good-by." And so Mr. Spicer retired. The bow Lady Grace vouchsafed being in reality addressed rather to one of the figures on her fan than to himself. " One gets a habit of these kind of people," said Lady Lackington, as the door closed after him ; " but really it is a bad habit." " I think so too," said Lady Grace, languidly. " To be sure, there are now and then occasions when you can't employ exactly a servant. There are petty negotiations which require a certain delicacy of treatment, and there, they are useful. Besides," said she, with a half-sneering laugh, " there's a fashion in them, and, like Blenheim spaniels, every one must have one, and the smaller the better!" " Monsignore Clifford, my Lady, to know if you receive," said a servant, entering. davhtpoet DTJirar. 19 " Oh, certainly. I'm charmed, my dear Grace, to present to you the most agreeable man of all Rome. He is English, but ' went over,' as they call it, and is now high in the Pope's favour." These words, hurriedly uttered as they were, had been scarcely spoken when the visitor entered the room. He was a tall, handsome man, of about five-and-thirty, dressed in deep black, and wearing a light blue ribbon across his white neckcloth. He advanced with all the ease of good breeding, and taking Lady Lackington's hand, he kissed the tips of her fingers with the polished grace of a courtier. After a formal presentation to Lady Grace, he took a seat between the two ladies. " I am come on, for me, a sad errand, my Lady," said he, in a voice of peculiar depth and sweetness, in which the very slightest trace of a foreign accent was detectable — " it is to say good-by !" " Tou quite shock me, Monsignore. I always hoped you were here for our own time." "I believed and wished it also, my Lady; but I have received a peremptory order to return to Borne. His Holiness desires to see me at once. There is some intention, I understand, of naming me as the Nuncio at Florence. Of course this is a secret as yet." And he turned to each of the ladies in succession. " Oh, that would be charming — at least for any one happy enough to fix their residence there, and my friend Lady Grace is one of the fortunate." Monsignore bowed in gratitude to the compliment, but contrived, as he bent his head, to throw a covert glance at his future neighbour, with the result of which he did not seem displeased. " I must of course, then, send you back those interesting books, which I have only in part read ?" " By no means, my Lady ; they are yours, if you will honour me by accepting them. If the subject did not forbid the epithet, I should call them trifles." " Monsignore insists on my reading the ' Controversy,' dear Lady Grace; but how I am to continue my Btudies without his gui- dance " ""We can correspond, my Lady," quickly broke in the other. " Tou can state to me whatever doubts — difficulties, perhaps, were, the better word — occur to you ; I shall be but too happy and too proud to offer you the solution ; and if my Lady Grace Twining would, condescend to accept me in the same capacity " She bowed blandly, and he went on. " There is a little tract here, by the Cardinal Balbi^-' Flowers of c2 20 DAVENPOET DTWIT. St. Joseph' is the title. The style is simple but touching — ' the invi- tation' scarcely to be resisted." "I think you told me I should like the Cardinal personally," broke in Lady Lackington. " His Eminence is charming, my Lady — such goodness, such gen- tleness, and so much of the very highest order of conversational agreeability." " Monsignore is so polite as to promise us introductions at Eome,'' continued she, addressing Lady Grace, " and amongst those, too, who are never approached by our countrymen." "The Alterini, the Eornisari, the Balbetti," proudly repeated Monsignore. "All ultra-exclusives, you understand," whispered Lady Lacking- ton to her friend, " who wouldn't tolerate the English." " How charming !" ejaculated Lady Grace, with a languid enthu- siasm. "The Eoman nobility," continued Lady Lackington, "stands proudly forward, as the only society in Europe to which the travel- ling English cannot obtain access." " They have other prejudices, my Lady — if I may so dare to call sentiments inspired by higher influences — than those which usually sway society. These prejudices are all in favour of such as regard our Church, if not with the devotion of true followers, at least with the respect and veneration that rightfully attach to the first-born of Christianity." " Yes," said Lady Lackington, as, though not knowing very well to what, she gave her assent, and then added, "I own to you I have always experienced a sort of awe — a sense of — what shall I call it?" " Devotion, my Lady," blandly murmured Monsignore, while his ■eyes were turned on her with a paraphrase of the sentiment. " Just so. I have always felt it on entering one of your churches — the solemn stillness, the gloomy indistinctness, the softened tints, the swelling notes of the organ — you know what I mean." " And when such emotions are etherialised, when, rising above material influences, they are associated with thoughts of what is alone thought-worthy, with hopes of what alone dignifies hope, imagine, then, the blessed beatitude, the heavenly ecstasy they inspire." Monsignore had now warmed to his work, and very ingeniously sketched out the advantages of a creed that accommodated itself so beautifully to every temperament — that gave so much and yet exacted so little — that poisoned no pleasures — discouraged no indulgences — DAVENPOET BTTKN, 21 but left every enjoyment open with its price attached to' it, just as objects are ticketed in a bazaar. He had much to say, too, of its soothing consolations — its devices to alleviate sorrow and cheat affliction — while such was its sympathy for poor Buffering humanity, that even the very caprices of temper — the mere whims of fancied depression — were not deemed unworthy of its pious care. It is doubtful whether these ladies would have accorded to a divine of their own persuasion the same degree of favour and at- tention that they now bestowed on Monsignore Clifford. Perhaps his manner in discussing certain belongings of his Church was more entertaining; perhaps, too — we hint it with deference — that there was something like a forbidden pleasure in thus tres- passing into the domain of Some. His light and playful style was, however, a fascination amply sufficient to account for the interest he excited. If he dwelt but passingly on the dogmas of his Church, he was eloquently diffuse on its millinery. Copes, stoles, and vestments he revelled in ; and there was a picturesque splendour in his description of ceremonial that left the best " effects" of the opera far behind. How gloriously, too, did he expatiate on the beauty of the Madonna, the costliness of her gems, and the bril- liancy of her diadem ! How incidentally did he display a rapturous veneration for loveliness, and a very pretty taste in dress ! In a word, as they both confessed, "he was charming." There was a downy softness in his enthusiasm, a sense of repose even in his very insistance, peculiarly pleasant to those who like to have their sensations, like their perfumes, as weak and as faint as pos- sible. " There is a tact and delicacy about these men from which our people might take a lesson," said Lady Lackington, as the door closed after him. "Very true," sighed Lady Grace ; " ours are really dreadful." 22 DAVBKPOBT DOTIT. OHAPTEE HI. A FATHER AND A DAUGHTER. A deeahy evening late in October, a cold thin rain falling, and a low wailing wind sighing through the leafless branches of the trees in Merrion-square, made Dublin seem as sad-looking and deserted as need be. The principal inhabitants had not yet returned to their homes for the winter, and the houses wore that melancholy look of vacancy and desertion so strikingly depressing. One sound alone awoke the echoes in that silence : it was a loud knocking at the door of a large and pretentious mansion in the middle of the north side of the square. Two persons had been standing at the door for a con- siderable time, and by every effort of knocker and bell endeavouring to obtain admittance. One of these was a tall, erect man of about fifty, whose appearance but too plainly indicated that most painful of all struggles between poverty and a certain pretension. "White- seamed and threadbare as was his coat, he wore it buttoned to the top with a sort of military smartness, his shabby hat was set on with a kind of jaunty air, and his bushy whiskers, combed and frizzed out with care, seemed a species of protest against being thought as humble as certain details of dress might bespeak him. At his side stood a young girl, so like him that a mere glance proclaimed her to be his daughter, and although in her appearance also narrow means stood confessed, there was an unmistakable something in her calm, quiet features, and her patient expression, that declared she bore her lot with a noble and high-hearted courage. " One trial more, Bella, and I'll give it up," cried he, angrily, as, seizing the knocker, he shook the strong door with the rapping, while he jingled the bell with equal violence. " If they don't come now, it is because they've seen who it is, or maybe ■" " There, see, papa, there's a window opening above," said the girl, stepping out into the rain as she spoke. " What d'ye mean, do ye want to break in the door ?" cried a harsh voice, as the wizened, hag-like face of a very dirty old woman appeared from the third story. " I want to know if Mr. Davenport Dunn is at home," cried the man. " He is not ; he's abroad — in Prance." BATENPOBT VVKX. 23 ""When is he expected back ?" asked he again. " Maybe in a week, maybe in three weeks." " Have any letters come for Mr. Kellett ? — Captain Kellett" — said he, quickly correcting himself. "No!" And a bang of the window as the head was withdrawn finished the colloquy. " That's pretty conclusive any way, Bella," said he, with an at- tempt to laugh. " I suppose there's no use in staying here longer. Poor child," added he, as he watched her preparations against the storm, " you'll be wet to the skin ! I think we must take a car, eh, Bella ? I will take a car." And he put an emphasis on the word that sounded like a firm resolve. " No, no, papa ; neither of us ever feared rain." " And, by George ! it can't spoil our clothes, Bella," said he, laugh- ing with a degree of jocularity that sounded astonishing even to him- self, for he quickly added, " but I will have a car ; wait a moment here under the porch and I'll get one." And before she could interpose a word, he was off and away at a speed that showed the vigour of a younger man. " It won't do, Bella," he said, as he came back again ; " there's only one fellow on the stand, and he'll not go under half-a-crown. I pushed him hard for one and sixpence, - but he'd not hear of it, and so I thought — that was, I knew well — you would be angry with me." " Of course, papa ; it would be mere waste of money," said she, hastily. " An hour's walk — at most an hour and a half — and there's an end of it. And now let us set out, for it is growing late." There were few in the street as they passed along ; a stray creature or so, houseless and ragged, shuffled onward ; an odd loiterer stood for shelter in an archway, or a chanee passer-by, with ample coat and umbrella, seemed to defy the pelting storm, while cold and dripping- they plodded along in silence. " That's old Barrington's house,' Bella," said he, as they passed a large and dreary-looking mansion at the corner of the square ; " many's the pleasant evening I spent in it.'' She muttered something, but inaudibly, and they went on as before. " I wonder what's going on here to-day. It was Sir Dyke Morris used to live here when I knew it." And he stopped at an open door, where a flood of light poured forth into the street. " That's the Bishop' of Deny, Bella, that's just gone in. There's a dinner-party there to-day," whispered he, as, half reluctant to go, he still peered into the hall. 24 DAVENPOET DUNJT. She drew hitn gently forward, and he seemed to have fallen into a reverie, as he muttered at intervals, . " Great times— fine times — plenty of money — and fellows that knew how to spend it !" » Drearily plashing onward through wind and rain, their frail clothes soaked through, they seldom interchanged a word. " Lord Drogheda lived there, Bella," said he, stopping short at the door of a splendidly illuminated hotel ; " and I remember the time I was as free and welcome in it as in my own house. My head used to be full of the strange things that happened there once. Brown, and Barry Fox, and Tisdall, and the rest of ns, were wild chaps ! Faith, my darling, it wasn't for Mr. Davenport Dunn I cared in those times, or the like of him. Davenport Dunn, indeed !" " It is strange that he has not written to us," said the girl, in a low voice. " Not a bit strange ; it's small trouble he takes about us. I'll bet a five-pound note — I mean, I'll lay sixpence," said he, correcting himself with some confusion — " that since he left this he never as much as bestowed a thought on us. "When he got me that beggarly place in the Custom House, he thought he'd done with me out and out. Sixty pounds a year ! God be with the time I gave Peter Harris, the butler, just double the money !" As they talked thus they gained the outskirts of the city, and gra- dually left the lamps and the well-lighted shops behind. Their way now led along a dreary road by the sea-side, towards the little bathing village of Clontarf, beyond which, in a sequestered spot called the Green Lanes, their humble home stood. It was a long and melan- choly walk ; the sorrowful sounds of the sea beating on the shingly strand mingling with the dreary plashing of the rain, while farther out, a Continuous roar as the waves rolled over the "North Bull," added all the terrors of storm to the miseries of the night. " The winter is setting in early," said Kellett. " I think I never saw a severer night." * " A sad time for poor fellows out at sea !" said the girl, as she turned her head towards the dreary waste of cloud and water now Commingled into one. "'Tis exactly like our own life, out there," cried he; "a little glimpse of light glimmering every now and then through the gloom, but yet not enough to cheer the heart and give courage; but all black darkness on every side." " There will come a daybreak at last," said the girl, assuredly. " Faith ! I sometimes despair about it in our own case," said he, BAVENPOKT BTJNN. 25 sighing, drearily. "To think of what I was once, and what I am now! buffeted about and ill used by a set of scoundrels that I'd not have suffered to sit down in my kitchen. Keep that rag of a shawl across your chest; you'll be destroyed entirely, Bella." " We'll soon be within shelter now, and nothing the worse for this weather either of us," replied she, almost gaily. " Over and over again have you told me what severe seasons you have braved in the hunting- field ; and, after all, papa, one can surely endure as much for duty as in pursuit of pleasure — not to say that our little cottage never looks more home-like than after a night like this." "It's snug enough for a thing of the kind," murmured he, half reluctantly. " And Betty will have such a nice fire for us, and we shall be as com- fortable and as happy as though it were a fine house, and we ourselves fine folk to live in it." ' " The Kelletts of Kellett's Court, and no better blood in Ireland," said he, sternly. " It was in the same house my grandfather, Morgan Kellett, entertained the Duke of Portland, the Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland; and this day, as I stand here, there isn't a chap in the Castle-yard would touch his hat to me!" • " And what need have we of them, papa ? Will not our pride of good blood teach us other lessons than repining ? Can't we show the world that a gentleman born bears his altered fortunes with dignity ?" " Te're right, Bella ; that's the very thing they must acknowledge. There isn't a day passes that I don't make the clerks in the ' Long Boom' feel the difference between us. ' No liberties — no familiarities, my lads,' I say ; ' keep your distance. For though my coat is thread- bare, and my hat none of the best, the man inside them is Paul Kellett of Kellett's Court.' And if they ask where that is, I say, * Look at the Gazetteer' — it's mighty few of them has their names there — ' Kellett's Court, the ancient seat of the- Kellett family, was originally built by Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke.' " "Well, here we are, papa, in a more humble home ; but you'E see how cheery it will be." And so saying, she pushed open a little wicket, and, passing through a small garden, gained the door of a little one-storied cottage, almost buried in honeysuckle, " Yes, Betty, wet through !" said she, laughing, as the old woman held up her hands in horror ; " but get papa his slippers and that warm dressing-gown, and I'll be back in a minute." " Arrah! Why didn't you take a car for her?" said the old woman, with that familiarity which old and tried service warrants. " Sure the child will get her death from this !" 26 DAVENPOBT DWKK. " She wouldn't let me ; she insisted on walking on her feet." " Ayeh, ayeli!" muttered the crone, as Bhe placed his slippers on the fender, " sure ye oughtn't to mind her. She'd get a fever rather than cost you a shilling. Look at the Bhoes she's wearin'." " By the good day ! you'll drive me mad — clean mad !" cried he, savagely. " Don't you know in your heart that we haven't got it ? Devil a rap farthing ; that we're as poor as a church mouse ; that if it wasn't for this beggarly place ■" " Now, Betty," cried the girl, entering — " now for our tea, and that delicious potato-cake that I see browning there before the fire." Poorly, even meanly, dressed as she was, there was in her that gentle look, and graceful, quiet bearing, that relieved the sombre aspect of a room which spoke but too plainly of narrow fortune ; and as her father looked at her, the traces of recent displeasure passed from his face, and her eyes brightened up, while he said, "You bring a blessing with the very sound of your voice, darling." And he kissed her twice as he spoke. "It is so comfortable to be here, and so snug," said she, seating herself at his side, " and to know that to-morrow is Sunday, and that we have our holiday each of us. Come, papa, confess this little room and. its bright fire are very cheery ! And I have got a newspaper for you. I told Mrs. Hawksey there was nothing such a treat to you as a newspaper, and she gave me one." " Ah ! the Trumpet of Liberty," said he, opening it. " "We'll have it after tea, Bella. Is there anything about our own county in it — Cork, I mean ?" " I have not looked in it yet ; but we'll go through it honestly, papa, for I know how conscientious you are not to lose a paragraph." " 'Tis that same makes a man agreeable in society. Tou know everything if you read the papers : accidents and marriages, the rate of the money-market, the state of the crops, who is dining with the Queen, and who is skating on the Serpentine, who is ruined at New- market, and who drowned at sea, and then all about the playhouses, and the wonderful panoramas ; so that, let conversation turn how it will, you're ready for it, and that's the reason, Bella, you must go through every bit of it. It's like hunting, and the very field perhaps you don't try, is just the one you'd find a fox in !" " Well, you'll see. I'll beat every cover for you !" said she, laugh- ing; "and Mrs. Hawksey desires to have it back, for there is some- thing about the Alderman having said or done — I don't know what or where." "'How I hate the very name of an Alderman!" said Kellett; DATENPOET DOTS. 27 peevishly; "regular vagabonds, with gilt coaches and red cloaks, running about prating of taxes and the pipe-water I The devil a thing I feel harder to bear in my poverty than to think you're a visiting governess in an Alderman's family. Paul Kellett's daughter a visit- ing governess !" "And very proud am I to be thought equal to the charge," said she, resolutely — " not to say how grateful to you for having enabled me to undertake it." " Myself in the Customs is nothing ; that, I'd put up with. Many a reduced gentleman did the same. Sam Crozier was a marker at a billiard-table in Tralee, and Ennis Magrath was an overseer on the very road he used to drive his four-in-hand. c Many a time,' says he, 'I cursed that fresh-broken, stome, but I never thought I'd be measuring it !' 'Tis the Encumbered Court has brought us all down, Bella, and there's no disgrace in being ruined with thousands of others. Just begin with the sales of estates, and tell us who is next for sentence. God forgive me, but I feel a kind of pleasure in hear- ing that we're all swamped together." The girl smiled as though the remark were merely tittered in levity and deserved no more serious notice, but a faint sigh, which she could not repress, betrayed the sorrow with which she had heard it. She opened the paper and glanced at its contents. Tfoejr were as varied and multifarious as are usually to be found in weekly " chan- nels of information." "What struck her, however, most, was the fact that, turn where she would, the name of Davenport Dunn was ever conspicuous. Sales of property displayed him as the chief creditor or petitioner ; charities paraded him as the first among the bene- volent ; joint-stock companies exhibited him as their managing direc- tor; mines, and railroads, and telegraph companies, harbour com- mittees, and boards of all kinds, gave him the honours of large type ; while in the fashionable intelligence from abroad, his arrivals and departures- were duly chronicled, and a letter of our own corre- spondent from Venice communicated the details of a farewell dinner given him, with a " Lord" in the chair, by a number of those who had so frequently partaken of his splendid hospitalities while he resided in that city. " "Well — well — well!" said Kellett, with a pausB between each ex- clamation, " this is more than I can bear. Old Jerry Dunn's son — the brat of a boy I remember in the Charter' School ! He used to be sent at Christmas time up to Ely-place, when my father was in town, to get five shillings for a Christmas-box ; and I mind well the 28 DAVENPOBT DtTNIT. day he was asked to stay and dine with my sister Matty and myself, and he taught us a new game with six little bits of sticks, how we were to do something, I forget what ; but I know how it ended — he won every sixpence we had. Matty had half a guinea in gold and some tenpenny pieces, and I had, I think, about fifteen shillings, and sorrow a rap he left us ; and worse still, I mortgaged my school maps, and got a severe thrashing for having lost them from old White in Jervas-streetJ; and poor Matty's doll was confiscated in the same way, and carried off with a debt of tbree-and-fourpence on her head. God forgive him, but he gave us a sorrowful night, for we cried till daybreak." " And did you like him as a playfellow ?" asked she. "Now that's the strangest thing of all," said Kellett, smiling. " Neither Matty nor myself liked him ; but he got a kind of 'influence over us that was downright fascination. No matter what we thought of doing before he came, when he once set foot in the room every- thing followed his dictation. It wasn't that he was overbearing or tyrannical in the least, just as little could you say that he was in- sinuating or flattering, but somehow, by a kind of instinct, we fell into his ways, and worked out all his suggestions just as if we were mere agents of his will. Resistance or opposition we never dreamed of while he was present ; but after he was gone away, once or twice there came the thought that there was something very like slavery in all. this submission, and we began to concert how we might throw off the yoke. . " ' I won't play toll-bar any more,' said I, resolutely ; ' all my pocket-money is sure to go before it is over.' " ' And I,' said Matty, ' won't have poor " Mopsy" tried for a mur- der again ; every time she's hanged, some of the wax comes off her neck.' ""We encouraged each other vigorously in these resolves, but be- fore he was half an hour in the house ' Mopsy' had undergone the last sentence of the law, and J was insolvent." " What a clever rogue he must have been!" said Bella, laughing. " Wasn't he clever !" exclaimed Kellett. " You could not say how -7-nobody could say how— but he saw every thing the moment he came into a new place, and marked every one's face, and knew, besides, the impression he made on them, just as if he was familiar with them for years." " Did you continue to associate with him as you grew up ?" asked she. " No ; we only knew each other as children. There was a distress- DAYENPOBT DUNK. 29 ing thing — a very distressing thing — occurred one day ; I'm sure to this . very hour I think of it with sorrow and shame, for I can't believe he had any blame in it. "We were playing in a room next my father's study, and running every now and then into the study ; and there was an old-fashioned penknife — a family relic, with a long bloodstone handle — lying on the table, and when the play was over, and Davy, as we called him, had gone home, this was missing. There was a search made for it high and low, for my father set great value on it. It was his great-great-grandmother's, I believe ; at all events, no one ever set eyes on it afterwards, and nothing would persuade vaj father but that Davy stole it ! Of course he never told us that he thought so, but the servant did, and Matty and myself cried two nights and a day over dt, and got really sick. " I remember well : I was working by myself in the garden, Matty was ill and in bed, when I saw a tall old man, dressed like a country shopkeeper, shown into the back parlour, where my father was sitting. There was a bit of the window open, and I could hear that high words were passing between them, and, as I thought, my father getting the worst of it, for the old fellow kept repeating, 'You'll rue it, Mister Kellett — you'll rue it yet!' And then my father said, ' Give him a good horsewhipping, Dunn; take my advice, and you'll spare yourself some sorrow, and save him from even worse hereafter.' I'll never forget the old fellow's face as he turned to leave the room. 'Davy will live to pay you off for this,' said he; 'and ifyow're not to the fore, it will be your children, or your children's children, will have to 'quit the debt !' " We never saw Davy from that hour ; indeed, we were strictly forbidden ever to utter his name, and it was only when alone together that Matty and I would venture to talk of him, and cry over — and many a time we did — the happy days when we had him for our play- fellow. There was a species of martyrdom now, too, in his fate, that endeared him the more to our memories — every play he had invented, every spot he was fond of, every toy he liked, were hallowed to our minds like relics. At last poor Matty and I could bear it no longer, and we sat down and wrote a long letter to Davy, assuring him of our fullest confidence in his honour, and our broken-heartedness at separation from him. We inveighed stoutly against parental tyranny, and declared ourselves ready for open rebellion, if he, that was never deficient.in a device, could only point out the road. We bribed a Btable-boy, with all. our conjoined resources of pocket-money, to convey the epistle, and it came back next morning to my father, enclosed in one from Davy himself, stating that he could never coun- 30 DAVEOTOBT DUKBT. tenance acts of disobedience, or be any party to a system by which children should deceive their parents. I was sent off to a boarding- school the same week, and poor Matty committed to the charge of Miss Morse, a vinegar-faced old maid, that poisoned the eight best years of her life !" "And when did you next hear of him ?" •«■ Of Davy ? Let me see : the next time I heard of him was when he attempted to enter college as a sizer, and failed. Somebody or other mentioned it at Kellett's Court, and said that old Dunn was half out of his mind, insisting that some injustice was dealt out to his eon, and vowing he'd get the member for somewhere to bring the matter before Parliament. Davy was wiser, however ; he persuaded his father that, by agitating the question, they would only give noto- riety to what, if left alone, would speedily be forgotten ; and D a ^y was right. I don't think there's three men now in the kingdom that remember one word about the sizership, or if they do, that would be influenced by it in any dealings they might have with Mr. Davenport Dunn." " What career did he adopt after that ?" " He became a tutor, I think, in Lord GlengariiFs family. There was some scandal about him there — I forget it now — and then he went off to America, and spent some years there, and in Jamaica, where he was employed as an overseer, I think ; but I can't remember it all. My own knowledge of him next was seeing the ' name * D. Dunn, solicitor,' on a neat brass-plate in Tralee, and hearing that he was a very acute fellow in election contests, and well up to dealing with the priests." " And now he has made a large fortune ?" " I believe you well ; he's the richest man in Ireland. There's scarce a county he hasn't got property in. There's not a town, nor a borough, where he hasn't some influence, and in every class too — gentry, clergy, shopkeepers, people : he has them all with him, and nobody seems to know how he does it." " Pretty much, I suppose, as he used to manage Aunt Matty and yourself long ago," said she, laughingly. " "Well, indeed, I suppose so," said he, with a half sigh ; " and if it be, all I can say is, they'll be puzzled to find out his secret. He's the deepest fellow I ever heard or read of; for there he stands to-day, without name, family, blood, or station, higher than those that have them all — able to do more than them ; and, what's stranger still, thought more about in England than the best man amongst us." BATBNPOET BOTUST. 31 " Tou have given me quite an interest about him, papa ; tell me, what is he like ?" " He's as tall as myself, hut not so strongly built ; indeed, he's slightly round-shouldered ; he is dark in the complexion, and has the blackest hair and whiskers I ever saw, and rather good-looking than otherwise — a calm, cold, patient-looking face you'd call it ; he speaks very little, but his voice is soft,, and low, and deliberate, just like one that wouldn't throw away a word, and he never moves his hands or arms, but lets them hang down heavily at either side." " And his eyes ? Tell me of his eyes ?" " They're big, black, sleepy-looking eyes, seldom looking up, and never growing a bit brighter by anything that he says or hears about him. Indeed, any one seeing him for the first time would say, ' There's a man whose thoughts are many a mile away ; he isn't minding what's going on about him here.' But that is not the case ; there isn't a look, a stir, nor a gesture that he doesn't remark. There's not a chair drawn closer to another, not a glance inter- changed, that he hasn't noticed ; and I've heard it said, ' Many wouldn't open a letter before him, he's so sure to guess the contents, from just reading the countenance.' " " The world is always prone to exaggerate such gifts," said Bhe, calmly. " So it may be, dear, but I don't fancy it could do so here. He's one of those men that, if he had been born to high station, would be a great politician, or a great general. You see that somehow, with- out any effort on his part, things come up just as he wished them. I believe, after all," said he, with a heavy sigh, "it's just luck! "Whatever one man puts his hand to in this world goes on right and smoothly, and another has every mishap and misfortune that can be- fal him. He may strive, and toil, and fret his brains over it, but devil a good it is. If he is born to ill luck, it will stick to him !" " It's not a very cheery philosophy!" said she, gently. " I suppose not, dear ; but what is very cheery in this life, when you come to find it out ? Isn't it nothing but disappointment and vexation?" Partly to rally him out of this vein of depression, and partly from motives of curiosity, she once more adverted to Dunn, and asked how it happened that they crossed each other again in life. " He's what they call ' carrying the sale' of Kellett's Court, my dear. Tou know we're in the Encumbered Estates now ; and Dunn repre- sents Lord Lackington and others that hold the mortgages over us. 32 BAVENPOBT DUNN'. The property was up for sale in November, then in May last, and was taken down by Dunn's order. I never knew why. It was then, however, he got me this thing in the Eevenue — this beggarly place of sixty-five pounds a year ; and told me, through his man Hanks — for I never met himself about it — that he'd take care my interests were not overlooked.' After that the Courts closed, and he went abroad ; and that's all there's between us, or, indeed, likely to be between us ; for he never wrote me as much as one line since he went away, nor noticed any one of my letters, though I sent him four, or, indeed, I believe five." " "What a strange man this must be," said she, musingly. " Is it supposed that he has formed any close attachments ? Are his friends devoted to him ?" " Attachments — friendships ! faith, I'm inclined to think it's little time he'd waste on one or the other. Why, child, if what we hear be true, he goes through the work of ten men every day of his life." " Is he married ?" asked she, after a pause. " No ; there was some story about a disappointment he met early in life;. when he was at Lord Glengariflfs, I think, he fell in love with one of the daughters, or she with him — I never knew it rightly — but it ended in his being sent away ; and they say he never got over it. Just as if Davenport Dunn was a likely man either to fall in love, or cherish the memory of a first passion ! I wish you saw him, Bella," said he, laughing, " and the notion would certainly amuse you." " But still, men of his stamp have felt — ay, and" inspired — the strongest passions. I remember reading once " " Beading, my darling — reading is one thing, seeing or knowing is another. The fellows that write these things must invent what isn't likely — what is nigh impossible — or nobody would read it. What we see of a man or woman in a book is just the exact reverse of what we'll ever find in real life." The girl could easily have replied to this assertion — indeed, the answer was almost on her lips, when she restrained herself, and, hang- ing down her head, fell into a musing fit. DAVENPOBT DTON. 33 CHAPTEB IV. ONE WHO WOULD BE A "SHABP IELLOW." One of the chief, perhaps the greatest, pleasures which Kellett' s humble lot still secured him, was a long country walk of a Sunday in company with one who had been his friend in more prosperous times. A reduced gentleman like himself, Annesley Beecher could only go abroad on this one day in the week, and thus by the pressure of ad- verse fortune were they thrown more closely together. Although by no means a favourite with Bella, she was far too con- siderate for her father, and too mindful of the few enjoyments that remained to him, ever to interpose her real opinion. She therefore limited herself to silence, as old Kellett would pronounce some glow- ing eulogy of his friend, calling him "good," and "amiable," and " kind-hearted," and extolling, as little short of miraculous, "the spirits he had, considering all he went through." But he would add, "He was always the same, and that's the reason everybody liked him; everybody, that is, almost everybody!" And he would steal a sly glance at his daughter, half imploringly, as though to say, " How long are you to sit in that small minority ?" "Whether the weather would permit of Beecher's coming out to see them — whether he'd be able to " stay and take his bit of dinner with them," were subjects of as great anxiety to poor Kellett each succeeding Sunday morning as though there ever had been a solitary exception to the wished-for occurrence, and Bella would never destroy the pleasure of anticipation by the slightest hint that might impair the value he attached to the event. "There's so many trying to get him," he would say ; "they pester his life out with invitations. The Chancellor, and Lord Killybegs, and the Bishop of Drumsna, always asking him to name his day ; but he'd rather come out and take his bit of roast mutton with our- selves, and his glass of punch after it, than he'd eat venison and drink claret with the best of them. There's not a table in Dublin, from the Castle down, that wouldn't be proud of his company ; and why not?" He would pause after uttering a challenge of this sort, and then, as his daughter would show no signs of acceptance, he would mutter on, " A real gentleman born and bred, and how any- 34 DAVENPOBT BTJNIT. body can mislike him is more than I am really able to compre- hend!" These little grumblings, which never produced more than a smile from Bella, were a kind of weekly homily, which poor Kellett liked to deliver, and he felt, when he had uttered it, as one who had paid a just tribute to worth an* virtue. " There's, Beecher already, by Jove !" cried Kellett, as he sprang up from the breakfast-table to open the little wicket which the other was vainly endeavouring to unhasp. " How early he is." Let va take ther.epp ert»niby to present him to our readers —a duty the more imperative, since, to all. outward semblance at least, he would appear -little, to warrant the nattering estimate his friend so lately bestowed- upon Mjh. : About four or five-and-thirty, some- what above the, middle siae, and wife all the- air and hearing of a man of fashion, Beeches had tie, gay, .easy, light-hearted l<*ok of one with whom, the world went habitually well ; and whea it did not, more was the shame of the said world ! since a better, nobler, more generous fellow than bsHnself never existed ; and thia he> knew, however others might ' ungjraeiously hold an opposite opinion. There was not lie alighteafc detail in hiss dress that, could warrant the supposition of narrow fortune : his coat and his waigteoafc of one colour and stuff were faultless in make, the massive watch-chain that festooned across hia ehesi, ia the last mode, hia. thick walking-hoots the perfection of that eojaproioiae between strength asad elegance sa popular in our day, even to his cane, whose head was ©£ massive geld,, with hia arms embossed— all. bespoke 1 a. certain affluence and abundance, the more assured, from the absence of ostentation. His hat. was slightly, very slightly, set on one side; a piece of " tigeiasm " pardonable, perhaps, as it displayed the rich brown curls of very silky hair,, whiehhehad disposed with consummate skill before his glass ere- he issued forth.. His large, fuU blue eyes, his handsome mouth, and a certain gentleness in hia look generally, were what he himself ■would- have called the" odds in his favour ;" and very hard it would indeed have been at first sight to. form an estimate in any way unfavourable to Mm,, Beau Baeeher, as he was called once, had been deemed tha heafclookiHg fellow about town, and when he entered the Life Guards, almost twenty years before the time we now present him, had been reckoned the handsomest man and best rider in the regiment. Brother of Lord Lackington, but mot by the same mother, he had inaugurated that new school of dandyism which succeeded to the BrummelL period, and sought fame and notoriety by splendour and extravagance, rather than by the fastidious and personal elegance Wi/V ■>£%$U/ DAVENPOBT DUBS. 35 that characterised the former era. In this way Lord Lackington and his brother were constantly contrasted, and although each had their followers, it was generally admitted that they were both re* garded as admirable types of style and fashion. Boodle's would have preferred the Peer, the Guards' Club and all Tattersall's have voted for the Honourable Amnesley Beecher. Beecher started in life with all the advantages and disadvantages which attach to the position of a younger son of a noble family. On the one side he had good connexions, asure status in society, and easy admission into club life ; on the other, lay the counterbalancing fact of the very slender fortune which usually falls to the lot of the younger born. The sum, in his case, barely sufficed to carry him through his -minority, so that the day he came of age he had not a shilling in the world. Moat men open their career in life with some one ambition or otherim their hearts. Some aspire to military glory and the fame of a great general, some, yearn after political eminence, and fashion to themselves the triumphs of sioeeeasfnl statesmanship. There are lesser goals in the walks of the learned professions which have each their votaries ; and sanguine spirits there are who found, m imagination, distant colonies beyond the sea, or lead lives of ad- venture in exploring umvisited and unknown regions- Annesley Beecher had no sympathy with any of these. The one great and ab- sorbing wish of hia heart was to be a " sharp fellow ;" one who in aH. the dealings and traffic of life was sure to get the upper hand of his adversary, who, in every trial where craft was the master, and in whatever situation, wherein eunaing performed a part, was cer- tain to come out with the creditable reputation «£ being, " for a gen- tleman, the downiest cove to be met with anywhere." This unhappy bent was owing to the circumstance of hia being early thrown amongst men who, having nothing but their wits to de- pend upon, had turned these same wits to very discreditable purposes. He became,, it is needless to say, their easy dupe ; and when utterly bereft of the small patrimony which he once possessed, -was admitted as an hioimble brother of the honourable guild who had despoiled him. Men select their walk in life either from the consciousness of cer- tain qualities: likely to attain success, or by some overweening admira- tion of those already eminent in it. It was this latter decided Beecher' s taste. Never was there one who cherished such profound respect for a crafty fellow, for alL other inteEeetual superiorities he could limit his esteem : for a rogue, his veneration was unbounded. From the man that invented a bubble company, to him who could turn the king at eearte — from the gifted individual who could puff d2 36 DAVEOTOBT DtTlW. up shares to an exorbitant value, -to the no less fine intelligence that could "make everything safe on the, Derby," he venerated them all. His early experiences had been unhappy ones, and so constantly had he found himself duped and " done" on every hand, that he ended by believing that honesty was a pure myth ; the nearest approach to the quality being a certain kind of fidelity to one's " Pal," as he would have called it, and an unwillingness to put " your own friend in the hole," while there were so many others available for that plea- sant destiny. This little nickering flame of principle, this farthing candle of good feeling, was the solitary light that illuminated the gloom of his character. He had joined the regiment Kellett formerly belonged to at Malta, a few weeks before the other had sold out, and having met acciden- tally in Ireland, they had renewed the acquaintance, stimulated by that strange sympathy which attracts to each other those whose nar- row circumstances would seem, in some shape or other, the effects of a cruelty practised on them by the world. Kellett was rather flattered by the recognition of him who recalled the brighter hours of his life, while he entertained a kind of admiration for the worldly wit and cleverness of one who, in talk at least, was a match for the " shrewdest fellow going." Beecher liked the society of a man who thus looked up to him, and who could listen unweariedly to his innumerable plans for amassing wealth and fortune, all of which only needed some little preliminary aid — some miserable thousand or two to start with, to make them as " rich as Eothschild." Never was there such a Tantalus view of life as he could picture — stores of gold, mines of unbounded wealth — immense stakes to be won here, rouge et now banks to be broke there — all actually craving to be appropriated, if one only had a little of that shining metal which, like the water thrown down in a pump, is the needful preliminary to securing a supply of the fluid afterwards. The imaginative faculty plays a great part in the existence of the reduced gentleman ! Kellett actually revelled in the gorgeous visions this friend could conjure up. There was that amount of plausibility in his reasonings that satisfied scruple as to practicability, and made him regard Beecher as the most extraordinary instance of a grand financial genius lost to the world — a great Chancellor of the Exche- quer born to devise budgets in obscurity ! Bella took a very different measure of him : she read him with all a woman's nicest appreciation, and knew him thoroughly ; she saw, however, how much his society pleased her father, how their Sunday strolls together rallied him from the dreary depression the week was DAVENPOTCT DUNN. 37 sure to leave behind it, and how these harmless visions of imaginary prosperity served to cheer the. gloom of actual poverty. She, there- fore, concealed so much as she could of her own opinion, and re- ceived Beecher as cordially as she was able. "Ah, Paul, my boy, how goes it? Miss Kellett, how d'ye do ?" said Beecher, with that easy air and pleasant smile that well became him. " I thought by starting early I should just catch yon at break- fast, while I also took another hour out of my Sunday — the one day the law mercifully bestows on such poor devils as myself — ha, ha, ha !" And he laughed heartily, as though insolvency was as droll a thing as could be. "You bear up well, anyhow, Beecher," said Kellett, admiringly. " What's the odds so long as you're happy !" cried the other, gaily. " Never say die. They take it out in fifty per cent., but they can't work the oracle against our good spirits, eh, Kellett ? The mens soma in corpore — what d'yecall him, my lad? — that's the real thing." . " Indeed, I suppose it is !" said Kellett, not very clear as to what he concurred in. . " There are few fellows, let me tell you, would be as light-hearted as I am, with four writs and a judge's warrant hanging over them — eh, Miss Bella, what do you say to that ?" said Beecher. , She smiled half sadly and said nothing. " Ask John Scott — ask Bicknell Morris, or any of the " Legs" you like — if there's a man of them all ever bore up like me. ' Beecher's a bar of iron,' they'll tell you ; ' that fellow can bear any amount of hammering;' and maybe I haven't had it! And all Lackington's fault!" "That's the worst of all!" said Kellett, who had listened to the same accusation in the self-same words at least a hundred times before. ' " Lackington is the greatest fool going ! He doesn't see the ad- vantage of pushing his family influence. He might have had me in for 'Mallow.' Grog Davis said to him one day, 'Look now, my Lord, Annesley is the best horse in your stable, if you'd only stand to win on him, he is !' But Lackington, would not hear of it. He thinks me a flat ! Tou Won't believe it, but he does !" "Faith! he's wrong there," said Kellett, with all the emphasis of sincerity. " I rather suspect he is, Master Kellett. I was trained in another school — brought up amongst fellows would skin a cat, by Jove ! What I say is, let A. B. have a chance — just let him in once, and see if he won't do the thing !" i$8 BAYENPOBT BTraW. " Do you wist to be in Parliament, Mr. Beecher F' asked Bellas with a smile of half repressed drollery. • "Of course I do. First, there's the Protection — no bad thing as times go; then it would be uncommon strange if I couldn't 'tool ibe coach into the yard ' safely. They'd have to give me a devilish good thing. You'd see what a thorn I'd be in their sides. Ask Grog Davis what kind of fellow I am ; he'll tell you if I'm easily put down. But Laekington is a fool ; he can't see the road before him !" "You reekon, then, on being a debater!" said she, quietly. * A little of everything, Miss Bella," said he, laughing; "like the modern painters, not particular for a shade or two. I'd not go wasting my time with that old Tory lot — they're all worked out, aged and weighted, as John Scott would call. them — I'd go in with the young 'uns — the Manchester two-year-olds, universal — what d'ye call it ? —and vote by ballot. They're the fellows have ' the tin,' by Jove! they have." "Then I scarcely see how Lord Laekington would advance his family influence by promoting your views," said she again. " To be sure he would. It would be the safest hedge in the world for him. He'd square his book by it, and stand to win, no matter what horse came in. Besides, why should they buy me, if I wasn't against them ? You don't nobble the horse in your own stable— eh, Kellett, old boy ?" " You're a wonderful fellow, Beecher !" said KelleW, in a most honest admiration of his friend. " If they'd only give me a chance, Paul — just one chance !" It was not very easy to see what blot in the game of life he pur- posed to himself to " hit" when he used this expression, "if they only give me a chance ;" vague and indistinct as it was, still for many a year had it served him as a beacon of hope. A shadow vision of cre- ditors " done," horses "nobbled," awkward testimonies " squared," a millenary period of bills easily discounted, with an indidgent Angel presiding over the Bankrupt Court, — these and like blessings doubt- less all flitted before him as the fruits of that same " chance " which destiny held yet in store for him. Hope is a generous fairy ; she deigns to sit beside the humblest firesides — she will linger even in the damp cell of the prison, or rest her wings on the wave-tossed raft of the ship wrecked, and in such mission is she thrice blessed! But by what strange caprice does she visit the hearts of men like this ? Perhaps it is that the very spirit of her ministering is to despair of nothing. "We are by no means sure that our reader will take the same plea- DAYENPOBT DUK3ST. 89 sure that Kellett did in Beecher's society, and therefore we shall spare him the narrative of their walk. They strolled along for hours, now, by the shingly shore, on which the waves swept smoothly, now, inland, through leafy lanes and narrow roads, freckled with patchy sunlight. The day was calm and still — one of those solemn autumnal days which lend to scenery a something of sadness in their unvarying quiet. Although so near a great city, the roads were little travelled, and they sauntered for hours scarcely meeting any one. Wherever the smoke rose above the tall beech-trees, wherever the ornamented porch of some lone cottage peeped through the copse, or the handsome entrance^gate proclaimed the well-to-do owner of some luxurious abode, Kellett would stop to tell who it was lived there — the wealthy merchant, the affluent banker, the alderman or city dignitary, who had amassed his fortune by this or that pursuit. Through all his stories there ran the vein of depreciation, which the once landed proprietor cherished towards the men who were the "£rst of their name." He was sure to remember some trait of their humble beginnings in life ; how this one had come up barefooted to Dublin fifty years before ; how that, had held horses in the street for hire. It was strange, but scarcely one escaped some commentary of this kind ; not) that there was a spark of ill nature in the man, but that he experienced a species of self-consolation in thinking that in all his narrow fortune he had claims of kindred and connexion which none of them could compete with. Beecher's thoughts took, mean- while, a different course ; whenever not awakened to interest by some trait of their sharpness or cunning, to which he listened with avidity, he revelled in the idea of their wealth, as a thing of which they might be despoiled : " Wouldn't that fellow take shares in some impossible speculation? — Couldn't the other be induced to buy some thousand pounds' worth of valueless scrip ? — Would this one kindly permit himself to 'be cleared out' at hazard? — Might that one be persuaded to lose a round sum at ecarie ?" And thus did they view life, with widely different sympathies, it is true, but yet in a spirit that made them companionable to each other. One "grew his facts," like Taw material which the other manufac- tured into those curious wares by which he amused his fancy. Poverty is a stronger bond than many believe it ; when men begin to confess it to each other, they take something very iike an oath of fidelity. " By the way," said Beecher, as he bade his iriend good might, " you told me you knew Dunn — Davenport BunaF* " To be sure I do ; know him well." " Couldn't you introduce me to him ; that's a fellow might be able 40 DAVENPOBT DUNN'. to assist me ? I'm certain he could give me' a chance ; eh, Kel- lett?" " Well ; I expect him back in Ireland every day. I was asking after him no later than yesterday; but he's still away." " "When he comes back, however, you can mention me, of course ; he'll know who I am." " I'll do it with pleasure. Good night, Beecher — good night ; and I hope" — this was soliloquy as he turned back towards the door — " I hope Dunn will do more for you than he ever has for me ! or, faith, it's not worth while to make the acquaintance." Bella retired to her room early, and JCellett sat moodily alone by his fire. Like a great many other " embarrassed gentlemen," he was dragging on life amidst all the expedients of loans, bonds, and mort- gages, when the bill for sale of "the encumbered estates became the law of the land. "What with the legal difficulties of dispossessing him, what with the changeful fortunes of a good harvest, or money a little more plentiful in the market, he might have gone on to the last in this fashion, and ended his days where he began them, in the old house of his fathers, when suddenly this new and unexpected stroke of legislation cut short all his resources at once, and left him actually a beggar on the world. The panic created at the first moment by a law that seemed little short of confiscation ; the large amount of landed property thus sud- denly thrown into the market ; the.prejudice against Irish investment, so strongly entertained by the moneyed classes in England, all tended vastly to depreciate the value of those estates which came first for sale ; and many were sold at prices scarcely exceeding four or five years of their rental. An accidental disturbance in the neighbour- hood, some petty outrage in the locality, was enough to depreciate the value; and purchasers actually fancied themselves engaged in speculations so hazardous that nothing short of the most tempting advantages would requite them for their risk. One of the very first estates for sale was Kellett's Court. The charges on the property were immense, the accumulated debts of three generations of spendthrifts ; the first charge, however, was but comparatively small, and yet even this was not covered by the pro- ceeds of the sale. A house that had cost nearly forty thousand pounds, standing on its own demesne, surrounded by an estate yield- ing upwards of three thousand a year, was knocked down for fifteen thousand four hundred pounds. Kellett was advised to appeal against this sale on various grounds : he was in possession of an pffer of more than double for the same BAVEKPOET DUNN. 41 property in times less prosperous ; he could show a variety of grounds — surprise and others — to invalidate the ruinous contract; and it was then that he once again, after a whole life, found himself in contact with Davenport Dunn, the attorney for many parties whose interests were compromised in the sale. By no possible accident could the property be sold at such a price as would leave any surplus to himself; but he hoped, indeed be was told, that he would be favourably considered by those whose interest he was defending; and this last throw for fortune was now the subject of his dreary thoughts. There was, too, another anxiety, and a nearer one, pressing on his heart. Kellett had a son, a fine, frank, open-hearted young fellow, who had grown up to manhood, little dreaming that he would ever be called on to labour for his own support. The idle, lounging habits of a country life had indisposed him to all study, so that even his effort to enter college was met by a. failure, and he was turned back On the very threshold of the University. Jack Kellett went home, vowing he'd never more trouble his head about Homer and Lucian, and he kept his word ; he took to his gun and his pointers with re- newed vigour, waiting until such time as he might obtain his gazette to a regiment on service. His father had succeeded in securing a promise of such an appointment, but, unhappily, the reply only arrived on the very week that Kellett's Court was sold, and an order for the Horse Guards to lodge the purchase-money of his commission came at the very hour when they were irretrievably ruined. Jack disappeared the next morning, and the day following brought a letter, stating that he had enlisted in the " Rifles," and was off to the Crimea. Old Kellett concealed the sorrow that smote him for the loss of his boy, by affecting indignation at being thus deserted. So artfully did he dress up this self-deception, that Bella was left in doubt as to whether or not some terrible scene had not occurred between the father and son before he left the house. In a tone that she never ventured to dispute, he forbade her to allude to Jack before him, and thus did he treasure up this grief for himself alone and his own lonely hours, cheating his sorrow by the ingenious devices of that constraint he was thus obliged to practise on himself. Like a vast number of men with whom the world has gone hardly, he liked to brood over his misfortunes, and magnify them to himself. In this way he opened a little bank of compassion, that answered every draft he drew on it. Over and over to himself — like a* miser revelling over his hoarded wealth-^did he count all the hardships of his destiny. He loved thus to hug his misery in solitude, while he 42 BATENPOET OTKIT. whispered to his heart, " Tou are a courageous fellow, Paxil Kellett ; there are not many who could carry your cheerful face, or walk with a head as high aB you do to-day. The man that owned Kellett's Gourt, and was one of the first in his county, living in a poor cot- tage, with sixty pounds a year ! — that's the test of what stuff a man's made of. Show me another man in Ireland could do it ! Show me one that could meet the world as uncomplainingly, and all the while never cease to he what he was born — a gentleman." This was the philosophy he practised ; this the lesson he taught ; this the paean be chanted to his own heart. The various extremities to which he might — being anything other than what he was — have been tempted, the excesses he might have fallen into, the low associates he might have kept, the base habits he might have contracted, all the possible and impossible contingencies that might have befallen him, and all his difficulties therein, formed a little ^fiction world that he gloried to lose himself in contemplating. It is not often that selfishness can take a form so blameless ; nor is it always that self-deception can be bo harmless. In this indul- gence we now leave him. CHAPTEE V. THE "WORLD'S CHANGES. While Mr. Davenport Dunn'B residence was in Merrion-square, his house of business was in Henrietta-street, one of those roomy old mansions which, before the days of the Union, lodged the aris- tocracy of Ireland, but which have now fallen into utter neglect and decay. Tar more spacious in extent, amd more ornate in decoration than anything modern Dublin can boast, they remain, in their massive doors of dark mahogany, their richly stuccoed ceilings, and their handsome marble chimney-pieces, the last witnesses of a period when Dublin was a real metropolis. Trom the spacious dinner-room below to the attics above, all this vast edifice was now converted into offices, and members of Mr. Dunn's staff were located even in the building at the rear, where the stables once had stood. Nothing can so briefly convey the varied occupations of his life, as a glance at some of the inscriptions which figured on the different doors: " Inland Navigation Office," " Grand DAVETTPOBT DTJMT. 43 Munster Junction Drainage," " Compressed Fuel Company," "Ee- claimed Lands," " Encumbered Estates," " Coast Fishery," "-Cop-r per and Cobalt. Mining Association," " Eefuge Harbour Company," " Slate and Marble Quarries," " Tyrawley and Erris Bank of De- posit," " Silver and Lead Mines." These [were but a few of the innumerable "associations," "companies," and " industrial specula- tions" which denoted the cares and employments of that busy head. Indeed, the altered fortunes of that great mansion itself presented no bad type of the changed destinies of the land. Here, once, was the abode of only too splendid hospitality, of all that refined courtesy and polished manners could contribute to make society as fascinating as it was brilliant. , Here were wit and beauty, and a high, chivalrous tone of manners, blended, it is true, with wildest extravagance and a general levity of thought, that imparted to intercourse the glow- ing tints of an orgie, and in their stead were now the active signs of industry, all the means by which wealth is amassed and great for- tunes acquired ; every resource of the country explored, every natural advantage consulted and developed — the mountains, the valleys, the rivers, the sea-coasts, the vast tracts of .bog and moss, the various mines and quarries, the products once deemed valueless, the districts formerly abandoned as irreclaimable, all brought out into strong light, and all investigated in a spirit which hitherto had been un- known to Ireland. "What a change was here, and what necessities must have been the fate of those who had so altered all their habits and mddes of thought as to conform to a system so widely different from all they had hitherto followed. It was like re-colomisiDg an empire, so subversive were all the innovations of -what had preceded them. " Eh, Barton, we used to trip up these stairs more flippantly once on a time," said a very handsome old man, whose well-powdered hair and queue were rather novelties in modern appearance, to a feeble figure who, assisted by his servant, was slowly toiling his way up- wards. " How d'ye do, Giengariff," said the other, with a weak smile. "So we used; and they were better days in every sense of the word." " Not a doubt of it," said the other. " Is that your destination ?" And he pointed to a door inscribed with the title "Encumbered " Ay !" said Barton, sighing. " It's mine, too, I'm sorry to say," cried Lord Giengariff $ " as I suppose ere long it will be that of every country gentleman, in the land!" 44 DATETTPOET DtfHN. "We might have known it must come to this!" muttered the other, in a weak'voice. " I don't think so," broke in his Lordship, quickly. " I see no oc- casion at all for what amounts to an act of confiscation ; why not give us time to settle with our creditors ? "Why not leave us to deal with our encumbrances in our own way ? The whole thing is a regu- lar political swindle, Barton ; they wanted a new gentry that could be more easily managed than the old fellows, who had no station, no rank, but right ready to buy both one and the other by support- ing " " Can I be of any service to your Lordship ?" interrupted a very over-dressed and much-gold-chained man, of about forty, with a great development of chest, set off to advantage by a very pretentious waistcoat. "Ah, Hankes ! is Dunn come back yet ?" asked Lord G-lengariff. "No, my Lord; we expect him on Saturday. The telegraph is dated St. Cloud, where he is stopping with the Emperor." Glengariff gave Barton a slight pinch in the arm, and a look of in- tense meaning at the words. " Nothing has been done in that matter of mine ?" said Barton, feebly. " Jonas Barton is the name," added he, colouring at the ne- cessity of announcing himself. " Jonas Barton, of Curryglass House ?" "Tea, that's it." " Sold yesterday under the Court, sir — for, let me see " And he opened a small memorandum-book. " Griffith's valuation," mut- tered he between his teeth, "was rather better than the Commis- sioner's — yes, sir, they got a bargain of that property yesterday ; it went for twenty- two thousand six hundred " " Great God, sir ! the whole estate ?" " The whole estate ; there is a tithe-rent charge " "There, there, don't you see he does not hear you," said Lord Glengariff, angrily. ".Have you no room where he can sit down for half an hour or so." And so saying, he assisted the servant to carry the now lifeless form into a small chamber beside them. The sick man rallied soon, and as quickly remembered where he was. " This is bad news, Glengariff," said he, with a sickly effort at a smile. " Have you heard who was the buyer ?" " No, no ; what does it matter. Take my arm and get out of this place. Where are you stopping in town ? Can I set you down ?" said the other, in hurry and confusion. " I'm with my son-in-law at Ely-place ; he is to call for me here, DAYENPOBT DTOTT. 45 so you can leave rue, my dear friend, for I see you are impatient to get away." Lord Glengariff pressed his hand cordially, and descended the stairs far more rapidly than he had mounted them. " Lord Glengariff — one word, my. Lord," cried Mr. Hankes, has- tening after him, and just catching him at the door. " Not now, sir — not now," said Lord Glengariff. " I beg a thousand pardons, my Lord, but Mr. Dunn writes me peremptorily to say that it cannot be effected— — " " Not raise the money, did you say ?" asked he, growing suddenly pale. " Not in the manner he proposed, my Lord. If you will allow me to explain " " Come over to my hotel. I am at Bilton's !" said Lord Glen- gariff. " Call on me there in an hour !" And so saying, he got into his carriage and drove off. In the large drawing-room of the hotel sat a lady working, and occasionally reading a book which lay open before her. She was tall and thin, finely featured, and though now entered upon that period of life when every line and every tint confess the ravage of time, was still handsome. This was Lady Augusta Arden, Lord Glen- gariff's only unmarried daughter, the very type of her father in tem- perament as well as appearance. "By George! it is confiscation. It is the inauguration of that Communism the Trench speak of," cried Lord Glengariff, as he entered the room. " There's poor Barton, of Curryglass, one of the oldest names in his county, sold out, and for, nothing — absolutely nothing. No man shall persuade me that this is just or equitable ; no man shall tell me that the Legislature shall step in and decide at any moment how I am to deal with my creditors." " I never heard of that Burton." " I said Barton — not Burton ; a man whose estate used to be called five thousand a year," said, he, angrily. "There he is now, turned out on the world. I verily believe he hasn't a guinea left ! And what is all this for? To raise up in the country a set of spurious gentry — fellows that were never heard of, whose names are only known over shopboards — as if the people should be better treated or more kindly dealt with by them than by us, their natural protectors ! By George ! if Ireland should swarm with Davenport Dunns, I'd call it a sorry exchange for the good blood she had lost in exterminating her old gentry." " Has he come back ?" asked Lady Augusta, as she bent her head 43 bavenpobt duns. more deeply over her work, and her cheeks grew a shade more red. "No. He's dining with royalties, and driving about in princely carriages on the Continent. Seeing what the pleasures of his inti- macy hawe cost us here at home, I'd say that these great personages ought to look sharp, or, by George i he'll sell them out, as he has done us." He laughed a bitter laugh at his jest, but his daughter did not join in the emotion. " I scarcely think it fair," said she, at length, " to connect Mr. Dunn with a legislation which he is only called upon to exe- cute." " With all my heart. Acqtrikhim as much as you will, but, for my part, I feel very little tenderness for the hand that accomplishes the last functions of the law against me. These fellows have displayed a zeal and an alacrity in their work that shows how they relish the sport. After all," said he, after a pause, " this Dunn is neither better nor worse than the rest of them, and in one respect he has the ad- vantage over them — he has not forgotten himself quite so much as the others. To be sore, we knew him in his very humblest fortunes, Augusta ; he was meek enough then." She stooped to pick up her work, which had fallen, and her neck and face were crimson as she resumed it. " "Wonderful little anticipation had he then of the man he was to become one of these days. Do you know, Augusta, that they say he is actually worth two millions ? — two millions !" She never spoke; and after an interval Lord G-lengariff buret out into a strange laugh. "You'd scarcely guess what I was laughing at, Augusta. I was just remembering the wretched hole he used to sleep in. It was a downright shame to put hint there over the stable, but the cottage was under repair at the time, and there was no help for it. 'I can accom- modate myself anywhere, my Lord,' he said. Egady he has contrived to fulfil the prediction in a very different sense. Just fancy — two millions sterling !" It was precisely what Lady Augusta, was doing at the moment, though, perhaps, not quite in the spirit his Lordship suspected. " Suppose even one half of it be true, with a million of money at command, what can't a man have nftw-a-days ?" And so they both fell a- thinking of all that same great amount of riches could buy — what of power, respect, rank, flattery, political influence, fine acquaintance, fine diamonds, and fine dinners. " If he play his cards well, he might be a Peer," thought my Lord. BAVENBOBT DTOm. 47 "If he be as ambitious aaheoughtto be, lie might aspire to a Peer's daughter," was the lady's reflection. " He has failed in my negotiation, however," said Lord GHengariff, peevishly ; " at least, Hankes just told me that it can't be done. I de- test that fellow Hankes. It shows great want of tact in Dunn having such a man in hisi employment — a vulgar, self-sufficient, over-dressed fellow, who can't help being familiar out of his own self-satisfaction. 2Jow Dunn himself knows his place. Don't you think so ?" She muttered something not very intelligible, but which sounded like concurrence'. " Tes^" he resumed, " Dunn does not forget himself — at least with me." And to judge from the carriage of his head as he spoke, and the air with which he carried the pinch of snuff to his nose, he had not yet despaired of seeing the world come back to the traditions which once had made it worth living in. " I am willing to give him every credit for his propriety of conduct, Augusta," added he, in a still more lofty tone; "for we live in times when really wealth and worldly prosperity have more than their right- ful supremacy, and such men as Dunn are made the marks of an adulation that is actually an outrage — an outrage upon tis .'" And the last little monosyllable was uttered with an emphasis of intense significance. Just as his Lordship had rounded his peroration, the servant pre- sented him with a small three»cornered note. He opened it, and read: " Mt Lobit, — I think the bearer of thisi, T. Driscoll, might possibly do what you wish for; and I send him, since I am sure that a personal interview with your Lordship would be more efficacious than any negotiation " By your Lordship's most obedient to command, " Simpson Hurras." "la the person who brought this below?" asked Lord Glengariff. " Yes,, my Lord ; ha is waiting fox the answer." " Show him into my dressing-room." Mr. Terence Driseoll was accordingly introduced into that sanctum ; and while he employs his few spare moments in curious and critical examination of the various gold and silver objects which contribute to his Lordship's toilet, and wonderingly snuffs at essences and odours of whose existence he had never dreamed, let us take the opportunity of a little examination of himself. He was a short, fat old man, with 48 BAVENPOET DUNN. a very round red face, whose jovial expression was rather heightened than marred by a tremendous squint ; for the eyes kept in incessant play and'|novemeht, which intimated a restless drollery that his full, cap'fclbus mouth well responded to. In' dress and general appearance, be^beibnged to the class of the comfortable farmer, and his massive silver watch-chain and huge seal displayed a consciousness of his well-to-do condition in life. " Are ybu Mr. Driscoll?" said Lord Glengariff, as he looked at the letter to prompt him to the name. " Pray, take a seat !" "Yes, my Lord, I'm that poor creature Terry Driscoll; the neighbours call me Tearin' Terry, but that's all past and gone, Heaven be praised ! It was a fever I had, my Lord, and my rayson wandered, and I did many a thing that desthroyed me entirely ; I tore up' the lease of my house, I tore up Peter Driscoll' s, my uncle's, will ; ay, and worse than all, I tore up all my front teeth !" And, in evidence of this feat of dentistry, Mr. Driscoll gave a grin that exposed his bare gums to view. " Good Heavens, how shocking!" exclaimed Lord Glengariff, though not impossibly the expression was extorted by the sight rather than the history of the calamity. "Shockin' indeed, my Lord — that's the name for it!" said Terry, sighing ; " but ye see I wasn't compos when I did it. I thought they were a set of blackguards that I couldn't root out of the land — squatters that wouldn't pay sixpence, nor do a day's work. That was the delusion that was upon me !" " I hold here a letter from Mr. Hankes," said his Lordship, pom- pously, and in a tone that was meant to' recal Mr. Driscoll from the personal narrative he had entered upon with such evident self-satis- faction. " He mentions you as one likely — that is to say — one in a position — a person, in fact " " Tes, my Lord, yes," interrupted Terry, with a grin of unbounded acquiescence. "And adds," continued his Lordship, "your desire to communi- cate personally with myself." The words were very few and not very remarkable, and yetLord Glengariff contrived to throw into them an amount of significance really great. They seemed to say, " Bethink thee well, Terry Driscoll, of the good fortune that this day has befallen thee. Thy boldness has been crowned with success, and there thou sittest'now, being the poor worm that thou art, in converse with one who wears a coronet." And so, indeed, in all abject humility, did Mr. Driscoll appear to feel the situation. He drew his feet closer together, and stole his DATENPOBT DTJN1T. 49 hands up the wide sleeves of his coat, as though endeavouring to diminish, as far as might be, his corporeal presence. His Lordship saw that enough had heen done for subjection, and blandly added, "And I could have no objection to the interview; none whatever." " It's too good you are, my Lord, too good and too gracious to the like of me," said Terry, barely raising his eyes to throw a glance of mingled shame and drollery on his Lordship ; " but I come by rayson of what Mr. Hankes tould me, that it was a trifle of a loan — a small matter of money your Lordship was wantin', just at this moment." " I prefer doing these kind of things through my solicitors. I know nothing of business, Sir — absolutely nothing," said his Lordship, haughtily. "The present case, however, might form an exception. The sum I require is, as you justly remark, a mere trifle, and the occasion is not worthy of legal interference." " Tes, my Lord," chimed in Driscoll, who had a most provoking habit of employing the affirmative in all situations. " I suppose he mentioned to you the amount ?" asked his Lordship, quickly. " No, indeed, my Lord ; all he said was, ' Terry,' says he, ' go over to Bilton's Hotel with this note, and ask for Lord Glengariff. He wants a little ready cash,' says he, ' and I tould him you're a likely man to get it for him. It's too small a matter for us here,' says he, ' to be bothered about.' " " He hadn't the insolence to make use of these words towards me .'" said Lord Glengariff, growing almost purple with passion. "Faix, I'm afeard he had, my Lord," said Terry, looking down; " but I'm sure he never meant any harm in it ; 'twas only as much as to say, 'There, Terry, there's something for you; you're a poor strugglin' man, and are well plazed to turn a penny in a small way. If you can accommodate my Lord there,' says he, ' he'll not forget it to you.' " The conclusion of this speech was far more satisfactory to his Lord- ship than its commencement seemed to promise; and Lord Glen- gariff smiled half graciously as he said, " I'm not in the habit of neglecting those who serve me." " Tes, my Lord," said Driscoll again. " I may safely say, that any influence I possess has always been exercised in favour of those who have been, so to say, supporters of my family." Had his Lordship uttered a sentiment of the most exalted and self- 5Q. DAVENPOttT DUNN. denying import, he could not have assumed a prouder air than when he had finished these words. "And now, Mr. Driscoll, to business. I want five thousand pounds — >— " ■ A long, low whistle from Terry, as he threw up both his hands in the air, abruptly stopped his Lordship. , " What do you' mean ; does the sum appear so tremendous, Sir ?" " Five thousand ! "Where would I get it ? Mve thousand pounds ! By the mortial man ! your Lordship might as well ax me for five, millions. I thought it was a hundred ; or, maybe, a hundred and fifty ; or, at the outside, two hundred pounds, just to take you over to London for what they call the say son, or to cut a figure at Paris; but, five thousand ! By my conscience, that's the price of an estate now-a-days !" "It is upon estated property I intend to raise this loan, Sir," said his Lordship, angrily. " Not Cushnacreena, my Lord ?" asked Terry, eagerly. ■ " No, Sir ; that is secured by settlement." "Nor'Ballyrennin?" " ~No ; the townland of Ballyrennin is, in a manner, tied up." " Tory's Mill, maybe ?" inquired Terry, with more eagerness. ""Well, Sir," said^lis Lordship, drawing- himself up, "I must really make you my compliments upon the very accurate knowledge you appear to possess about my estate. Since what period, may I venture to ask, have you conceived this warm interest in my behalf ?" "The way of it was this, my Lord," said DriscolL drawing his chair closer, and dropping his voice to a low, confidential tone. " After I had the fever — the fever and ague I tould you about — I got up out of bed the poor crayture you see me, not able to think of any- thing, or do a hand's turn for myself, but just a burden on my friends or anybody that would keep me. "Well, I tried all manner of ways to make myself useful, and I used to go errands here and there over the country for any one that wanted to know what land was to be sold, where there was a lot of good sheep, who had a drove of bullocks or a fancy bull ; and, just getting into the habit of it, I larned a trifle of what was doing in the three counties, so that the people called me ' Terry's Almanack' — that's the name they gave me, better than Tearin' Terry, anyhow ! At all events, I got a taste for finding out the sacrets of all the great families ; and to be sure, if I only had the memory, I'd know a great deal, but my head is like a cullender, and everything runs out as fast as you put it in. That's how it is, my Lord, and no lie in it." And Terry wiped his fore- JD-kVESTPOKT DT7MT. 51 bead and heaved a heavy sigh, like a man who had just accomplished a very arduous task. " So, then,' I begin to understand how Hankes sent yom oyer here to me," said his Lordship. " Tea, my Lord," muttered Terry, with a bow. " I had been under the impression — the erroneous impression — that you were yourself prepared to advance this small sum." " Me ! Terry Driscoll lend five thousand pounds ! Arrah, look at me, my Lord — just take a glance at me, and you'll see how likely it is I'd have as many shillings ! 'Twas only "by rayson of being always about — on the tramp, as they call it — that Mr. Hankes thought I could be of use to your Lordship. * Go over,' says he, ' and just tell him who and what you are.' There it is now !" • Lord G-lengariff made no reply, but slowly walked the room in deep meditation ; a passing feeling of pity for the poor fellow before him had overcome any irritation his own disappointment had occa- sioned, and for the moment the bent of his mind was compassionate. " Well, Driscoll," said he, at length, "I don't exactly see how yon can serve me in this matter." " Yes, my Lord," said Terry, with a pleasant leer of his restless eyes. " I say 1 don't perceive that you can contribute in any way to the object I have in view," said his Lordship, half peevish at being, as he thought, misapprehended. " Hankes ought to have known as much himself." " Yes, my Lord," chimed in Terry. " And you may tell him so from me. He is totally unfitted for his situation, and I am only surprised that Dunn, shrewd fellow that he is, should have ever placed a man of this stamp in a position of such trust. The first requisite in such a man is to understand the de- ference he owes to us." There was an emphasis on the last monosyllable that pretty clearly announced how little share Terry Driscoll enjoyed in this co- partnery. " That because I have a momentary occasion for a small sum of ready money, he should send over to confer with me a half-witted— -I mean a man only half recovered from a fever — a poor fellow still suf- fering from " " Yes, my Lord," interposed Terry, as he laid his hand on Ins fore- head in token of the seat of his calamity. " It is too gross— it is outrageous — but Dunn shall hear of it — l2 52 DAVESPOET DVTSTS. Dunn shall deal with this fellow when he comes back. I'm sorry for you, Driscoll — very sorry indeed; it is a sad bereavement, and though. you are not exactly a case for an asylum — perhaps, indeed, you might have objections to an asylum " " Yes, my Lord." " "Well, in that case, private friends are, I opine — private friends — and the kind sympathies of those who have known you — eh, don't you think so ?" " Yes, my Lord." " That is the sensible view to take of it. I am glad you see it in this way. Jt shows that you really exercise a correct judgment — a very wise discretion in your' case — and for a man in yowr situation — your painful situation — you see things in their, true light." "Yes, my Lord." And this time the eyes rolled with a most pecu- liar expression. " If you should relapse, however — if, say, former symptoms were to threaten again — remember that I am on the committee, or a governor, or something or other of one of these institutions, and I might be of use to you. Eemember that, Driscoll." And with a waveaf his hand his Lordship dismissed Terry, who, after a series of respectful obeisances, gained the door and disappeared. CHAPTEE 71. SYBELLA KELLETT. When change of fortune had reduced the Kelletts so low that Sybella was driven to become a daily governess, her hard fate had exacted from her about the very heaviest of all sacrifices. It was not, indeed,' the life of unceasing toil — dreary and monotonous as such toil is, — it was not the humility of a station for which the world affords not one solitary protection, — these were not what she dreaded : as little was it the jarring sense of dependence daily and hourly im- posed. No, she had courage and a high determination to confront each and all of these. The great source of her suffering was in the •loss of that calm and unbroken quiet to which the retired habits of a remote country-house had so long accustomed her. With scarcely any- thing which could be called a society near them, so reduced in means as to be unable to receive visitors at home, Kellett's Court had been DAVENPOBT DUNN. 53 for' many years a "lonely house. The days succeeded each other with such similarity that time was unfelt, seasons came and went, and years rolled on unconsciously. No sights nor sounds of the great world without invaded these retired precincts. Of the mighty events which convulsed the politics of states — of the great issues that engaged men's minds throughout Europe 1 — they heard absolutely nothing. The passing story of some little incident of cottier life represented to them all that they had of news; and thus- time glided noiselessly along, till they came to feel a sense of happiness in that same unbroken round of life. They who have experienced the measured tread of a conventual existence — where the same incidents daily recur at the same periods —where no events from without obtrude — where the passions and the ambitions and cares of mankind have so little of reality to the mind that they fail to impress with any meaning — are well aware that in the peaceful calm of spirit thus acquired there is a sense of happiness, which is not the less real that it wears the semblance of seriousness, almost of sadness. In all that pertained to a sombre monotony, Kellett's Court was a convent. The tall mountains to the back, the deep woods to the front, seemed barriers against the world without; and there was a silence and a stillness about the spot as though it were some lone island in a vast sea, where no voyagers ever touched, no traveller ever landed. This same isolation, strong in its own sense of security, was the charm of the place, investing it with a kind of romance, and im- parting to Sybella's own life a something of storied interest. The very few books the house contained she had read and re-read till she knew them almost by heart. They were lives of voyagers— hardy men of enterprise and daring, who had pushed their fortunes in far-away lands — or else sketches of life and adventure in distant countries. The annals of these sea-rovers were full of all the fascination of which gorgeous scenery and stirring incident form the charm. There' were lands such as no painter's genius ever fancied, verdure and flowers of more than fairy brilliancy, gold and gems of splendour that rivalled Aladdin's cave, strange customs and curious observances mingled with deeds of wildest daring, making up a succession of pictures wherein the mind^ajlternated between the voluptuous repose of tropical enjoyment and the hair-breadth 'scapes of buccaneering existence. The great men whose genius planned, and whose courage achieved, these enterprises, formed for her a sort of hero worship. Their rough virtues — their splendid hospitality — their lion-hearted defiance of danger — were strong appeals to her sympathy, while in 54 DAVEOTOET DUNS'. their devoted loyalty she found a speeies of chivalry that elevated them in her esteem. "Woman-like, too; she inclined to make success the true test of greatness, and glorified to herself those bold spirits who never halted nor turned aside when on their road to victory. The splendid self-dependence of such men as Drake and Dampier struct her as the noblest attribute of mankind ; that resolute trust in their own stout hearts imparted to them a degree of interest almost devo- tional ; and over and over did she bethink her what a glorious destiny it would have been to have had a life associated and bound up with some such man as one of these. The very contest and controversy his aetions would have evoked, heightened the illusion, and there savoured of heroism in sharing a fame that flung down its proud defiance to the world. Estrangement from the world often imparts to the stories of the past, or even to the characters of fiction, a degree of interest which, by those engaged in the actual work of life, is only accorded to their friends or relatives ; and thus, to this young girl in her isolation, such, names as Baleigh and Cavendish — such characters as Cromwell, Lorenzo de Medici, and Napoleon — stood forth before her in all the attributes of well-known individuals. To have so far soared above the ordinary accidents of life as to live in an atmosphere above all other men — to have seen the world and its ways from an eminence that gave wider scope to vision and more play to speculation — to have meditated over the destinies of mankind from the height of a station that gave control over their aetions — seemed so glorious a privilege, that the blemishes- and even the crimes of men so gifted were merged in the greatness of the mighty task they had imposed upon them- selves ; and thus was it that she claimed for these an exemption from the judgments that had visited less distinguished wrong-doers most heavily. " How can I, er such as I am, pronounce upon one like this man ? — what knowledge have I of the conflict waged within his deep intelligence? — how can I fathom the ocean of his thoughts, or even guess at the difficulties that have opposed, the doubts that have beset him ? I can but vaguely fashion to myself the end and object of his journey ; how then shall I criticise the road by which he travels, the halts he makes, the devious turnings and windings he seems to fall into ?" In sueh plausibilities she merged every scruple as to those she had deified to her own mind. " Their ways are not our ways," 1 Said she ; " their natures are as little our natures." • ;lProm all the dream-land of these speculations was she suddenly and rudely brought to face the battle of life itself, an humble soldier in the ranks. No. longer to dwell in seeret converse with the mighty ■DATBNPOET DUNN. 55 spirits who had swayed their fellow-men, she was now to enter upon that path of daily drudgery whose direst infliction was the contact with that work-o'-day world wherewith she had few sympathies. Mrs. Hawkshaw had read her advertisement in a morning paper, and sent for her to call upon her. Now Mrs. Hawkshaw was an al- derman's lady, who lived in a fine house, and had fine clothes, and fine servants, and fine plate, and everything, in short, fine about her but a fine husband, for he was a rough, homespun, good-natured sort of man, who eared little for anything save a stocking-factory he owned at Balbriggan, and the stormy incidents that usually shook the " livery" he belonged to. There were six little Hawkshaws to be governed, and geographies, and catechised, and civilised in all the various forms by which un- taught humanity is prepared for the fature work of life ; there were rudiments of variously-coloured knowledge to be imparted, habits in- stilled, and tempers controlled, by one who, though she brought to her task the most sincere desire to succeed, was yet deep in a world of her own thoughts, — far lost in the mazy intricacies of her own fancies'. That poor Miss Kellett, therefore, should pass for a very simple- minded, good creature, quite unfit for her occupation, was natural enough ; and that Mrs. Hawkshaw should " take her into training" was almost an equally natural consequence. " She seems to be always like one in a dream, my dear," saicf Mrs. Hawkshaw to her husband. " The children do exactly as they please ; they play all false, and she never corrects them ; they draw land- scapes in their eopy-books, and she- says, ' Very nicely done, dar- lings.' " " Her misfortunes are preying upon her, perhaps." " Misfortunes \ why, they have been in poverty this many a year. My brother Terry tells me that the Kelletts hadn't above two hundred a year, and that latterly they lost even this." ""Well, it is a come-down in the world, anyhow," said Hawkshaw, sighing, " and I must say she bears it well." " If she only feels it as little as she appears to do everything else", the sacrifice doesn't cost her much," said the lady, tartly. "I told her she was to come here last Sunday and take ehargeof the children ; she never came ; and when I questioned her as to the reason, she only smiled and said, ' She never thought of it ; in fact, she was too happy to be alone on that day to think of anything.' And here she comes now, nearly an hour late." And, as she spoke, a weary step ascended ■the steps' to the door, and an uncertain, faltering hand raised the -fcnocken '.) 56 DAVENPOBT DUNN. " It is nigh eleven o'clock, Miss Kellett," said Mrs. Hawkshaw, as she met her on the stairs. " Indeed — I am so sorry — I must have forgotten — I don't think I knew the hour," said the other, stammeringly. " Tour hour is ten, Miss Kellett." " I think so." "How is your father, Miss Kellett?" asked the Alderman, abruptly, and not sorry to interpose at the juncture. " He is well, Sir, and seems very happy," said she, gratefully, while her eyes lighted up with pleasure. "Give him my regards," said Hawkshaw, good-naturedly, and passed down the stairs ; while his wife coldly added, " The children are waiting for you," and disappeared. With what determined energy, did she address herself now to her task — how resolutely, devote her whole mind to her duty. She read, and heard, and corrected, and amended with all the intense anxiety of one eager to discharge her trust honestly and well- She did her very utmost to bring her faculties to bear upon every detail of her task, and it was only when one of the girls asked who was he whose name she had been writing over and over again in her copy- book, that she forgot her self-imposed restraint, and in a fervour of delight at the question, replied, " I'll tell you, Mary, who Savonarola was." In all the vigour of true narrative power, the especial gift of those minds where the play of fancy is only the adornment of the reasoning faculty, she gave a rapid sketch of tbe prophet priest, his zeal, his courage, and his martyrdom ; with that captivating fascination which is the first-born of true enthusiasm, she awakened their interest so deeply, that they listened to all she said as to a romance, whose hero had won their sympathies, and even dimly followed her, as she told them that such men as this stood out from time to time in the world's history like great beacons blazing on a rocky eminence, to guide and warn their fellow-men. That, in their own age, characters of this stamp were either undervalued or actually depreciated and condemned, was but the common lot of humanity ; their own great destinies raised them very often above the sympathies of ordinary life, and men caught eagerly at the blemishes of those so vastly greater than them- selves — hence all the disesteem they met with from contemporaries. " And are there none like this now, Miss Bella ?" asked one of the girls ; " or is it that in our country such are not to be met with ?" " They are of every land, and of every age, ay, and of every station ! Country, time, birth, have no prerogative. At one moment the great DAVENPOBT DTJ1W. 57 light of the earth has been the noblest born in his nation, at another, a peasant — miles apart in all the accidents of fortune, brothers by the stamp -which makes genius a tie of family. To-morrow you shall hear of one, the noblest-hearted man in all England, and yet whose daily toil was the vulgar life of an exciseman. This great man's nature is known to us, teaching men a higher lesson than all that his genius has bequeathed us." In the -willingness with which they listened to her, Bella found fresh support for her enthusiasm. If, therefore, there was this solace to the irksome nature of her task, it rendered that task itself more and more wearisome and distasteful. Her round of duty led her amongst many who did not care for these things ; some heard them with apathy, others with even mockery. How often does it happen in life that feelings, which if freely expanded had spread themselves broadly over the objects of the world, become by repression compressed into prin- ciples ! This was the case with her ; the more opposition thwarted, the more resolutely was she bent on carrying out her notions. All her reading tended to this direction, all her speculation, all her thought. " There must be men amongst us even now," said she, " to whom this great prerogative of guidance is given ; superior minds who feel the greatness of their mission, and perhaps know how necessary it is to veil their very ascendancy, that they may exercise it more safely and more widely. What concession may they not be making to vulgar prejudice ? what submission to this or that ordinance of society ? how many a devious path must they tread to reach that goal that the world will not let them strive for more directly ? and, worse than all, through what a sea of misrepresentation, and even calumny, must they wade ? how must they endure the odious imputations of selfishness, of pride, of hard-heart edness, nay, perhaps, of even crime ? — and all this, without the recognition of as much as one who knows their pur- pose and acknowledges their desert. 58 DAVEBTOET DVUK. CHAPTEE Vn. AN AKBIVAL AT MIDNIGHT. Night bad just closed in. over the Lake of Como, and, if the character of the scene in daylight had been such as to suggest ideas of dramatic effect, still more was this the case as darkness wrapped the whole landscape, leaving the great Alps barely traceable against the starry sky, while faintly glimmering lights dotted the dark shores from villa and palace, and soft sounds of music floated lazily on the night air, only broken by the plashing stroke of some gondolier as he stole across the lake. The Villa d'Este was a-glitter with light. The great saloon which opened on the water blazed with lamps ; the terraces were illumi- nated with many-coloured lanterns ; solitary candles glimmered from the windows of many a lonely chamber ; and even through the dark copses and leafy parterres some lamp twinkled, to show the path to those who preferred the scented night air to the crowded and bril- liant assemblage within doors. The votaries of hydropathy are rarely victims of grave malady. They are generally either the ex- hausted sons and daughters of fashionable dissipation, the worn-out denizens of great cities^ or the tired slaves of exciting professions — the men of Politics, of Literature;, or of Law. To such as these, a life of easy indolence, the absence of all constraint, the freedom which comes of mixing with a society where not one face is known to them, are the chief charms, and, with that, the privilege of condescending to amusements and intimacies of which, in their more regular eourse of life, they had not even stooped to partake. To English people this latter element was no inconsiderable feature of pleasure. Strictly defined as all the ranks of society are in their own country — marshalled in classes so rigidly that none may move out of the place to which birth has assigned him — they feel a certain expansion in this novel liberty, perhaps the one sole new sensation of which their natures are susceptible. It was in the enjoyment of this freedom that a considerable party were now assembled in the great saloons of the villa. There were Eussians and Austrians of high rank, conspicuous for their quiet and stately courtesy ; a noisy Frenchman or two; a few pale, thoughtful-looking Italians, men whose noble foreheads seem DATENPOBT BXTHN. 5j) to promise so much, but whose actual lives appear to evidence so little ; a crowd of Americans, as distinctive and as marked as though theirs had been a nationality stamped with centuries of transmission ; and, lastly, there were the English, "already presented to our reader in an early chapter^ Lady Lackington and her friend lady Grace — having, in a capriee'of a moment, descended to' see "what the whole thing was like." '' "JSTo presentations, my Lord, none whatever," said Lady Lacking- ton, as she arranged the folds of her dress, on assuming a very dis- tinguished position in the room. "We have only, come for a few minutes, and don't mean to make acquaintances." "Who is the little p»le : woman, with the turquoise ornaments ?" asked Lady. Grace. ' ■■■> ■ ■> "The ErineessLabanoff," said Ms Lordship, blandly bowing, " Not she who was siispeeted of having poisoned " . "The same." " I should like to know her. And the man — who is that tal, dark man, with the hi£h. forehead P'* " Glumthal, the great Frankfort millionnaire.* 1 " Oh, present him, by all means. Let us have him' htere," said Lady Lackington, eagerly. " What does that little man mean by smirking in that fashiomi — who is he?" asked she, as Mr. O'Beilly passed and repassed before her, making some horrible grimaces, that he intended to have represented as 'fascinations. " On no account, my Lord," said Lady. Laokingtota, asi though replying to a look of entreaty from his Lordship.: ; - " But you'd really be amused," said he, smiling. " It' is about the best bit of low comed y » " ' ' ' r ■ "" " I detest low comedy." ... " The father of your fair friends, is it not ?" asked Lady Grace, languidly. ■...-• "Yes. Twining aidmires them lastly," said his Lordship, half maliciously. If I might venture " ' * Oh dear no; mot. to me" said Lady Grace, shuddering. " I have little tolerance for what are called characters. You may present your Hebrew friend, if you like." i ' lK He's going to dance with, the Princess ; and -there goes Twining, with one of my beauties^ I declare" said Lord Laekingtonv "I say, Spicer, what is that dark lot, near the door ?" .-• '/ " American trotters,; my Locd ; just come over." " You know them, don't you P" />i!" I met them yesterday, at dinner, and shal be fleKghted to intro- 60 DAVENPOBT DUNN. duce your Lordship. Indeed, they asked me if you were not thei Lord that was so intimate with the Prince of "Wales." " How stupid ! They might have known, even without the aid of a Peerage, that I was a schoolboy when the Prince was a grown man. The tall girl is good-looking — what's her name ?" " She's the daughter of the Honourable Leonidas Shinbone, that's all I know — rather a belle at Saratoga, I fancy." " Very dreadful !" sighed Lady Grace, fanning herself; " they do make such a mess of what might be very pretty toilette. Toir couldn't tell her, perhaps, that her front hair is dressed for the back of the head." " No, Sir ; I never play aj cards," said Lord Lackington, stiffly, as an American gentleman offered him a pack to draw from. " Only a little bluff or a small party of poker," said the stranger, " for quarter dollars; or milder if you like it." A cold bow of refusal was the reply. " I told you he was the Lord," said a friend in a drawling accent. " He looks as if he'd ' mow us all down like grass.' " Doctor Lanfranchi, the director of the establishment, here inter- posed, and, by a few words, induced the Americans to retire and leave the others unmolested. ' " Thank you, Doctor," said Lady Lackington, in acknowledgment ; " your tact is always considerate — always prompt." " These things never happen in the season, my Lady," said he, with a very slight foreign accentuation of the words. " It is only at times like this that people — very excellent and amiable people, doubt- " Oh, to be sure they are," interrupted she, impatiently ; " but let us speak of something else. Is that your clairvoyante Princess yonder ?" " Tes, my Lady ; she has just revealed to us what was doing at the Crimea. She says that two of the English advanced batteries have slackened their fire for want of ammunition, and that a deserter was telling Todleben of the reason at the moment. She is en rapport with her sister, who is now at Sebastopol." " And are we to be supposed to credit this ?" asked my Lord. " I can only aver that I believe it, my Lord," said Lanfranchi, whose massive head and intensely acute features denoted very little intellectual weakness. " I wish you'd ask her why are we lingering so long in this dreary place ?" sighed Lady Lackington, peevishly. - " She answered that question yesterday, my Lady," replied he, quietly. DAVENPOBT DUNN. 61 " How was that ? "Who asked her ? What did she say ?" "It was the Baron von Glumthal asked: and her answer was, 'Expecting a disappointment.' " " Very gratifying intelligence, I must say. Did you hear that, my Lord?" " Yes, I heard it, and I have placed it in my mind in the same category as her Crimean news." " Can she inform us when we are to get away?" asked her Lady- ship. " She mentioned to-morrow evening as the time, my Lady," said the Doctor, calmly. A faint laugh of derisive meaning was Lady Lackington's only reply ; and the Doctor gravely remarked, " There is more in these things than we like to credit ; perhaps our very sense of inferiority in presence of sucb/prediction is a bar to our belief. "We do not will- ingly lend ourselves to a theory which at once excludes us from the elect of prophecy." "Could she tell us who'll win the Derby?" said Spicer, joining the colloquy. But a glance from her Ladyship at once recalled him from the indiscreet familiarity. "Do you think she could pronounce whose is the arrival that makes such a clatter outside?" said Lord Lackington, as a tremen- dous chorus of whip-cracking announced the advent of something very important ; and the Doctor hurried off to receive the visitor. Already a large travelling carriage, drawn by eight horses, and fol- lowed by a "fourgon" with four, had drawn up before the great entrance, and a courier, gold-banded and whiskered, and carrying a most imposingly swollen money-bag, was ringing stoutly for admit- tance. When Doctor Lanfranchi had exchanged a few words with the courier, he approached the window of the carriage, and bowing courteously, proceeded to welcome the traveller. " Tour apartments have been ready since the sixteenth, Sir ; and we hoped each day to have seen you arrive." '• Have your visitors all gone ?" asked the stranger, in a low, quiet tone. • "No, Sir; the fine weather has induced many to prolong their stay. We have the Princess Labanoff, Lord Lackington, the Countess Grembinski, the Duke of Terra di Monte, the Lady Grace " The traveller, however, paid little attention to the catalogue, but with-the aid of the courier on one side and his valet on the other, slowly descended from the carriage. If he availed himself of their assistance, there was little in his appearance that seemed to warrant 62; DAVESPOHT BUSS. its necessity* He was a large, powerfully-buut man, something be- yond the prime of life,, but whose build announced considerable •vigour. Slightly stooped in the shoulders, the defect seemed to add to the fixity of his look, for the head was thus thrown more forward, and the expression of the deep-set eyes, overshadowed by shaggy giey eyebrows, rendered more piercing and direct. His features were massive and regular— their character that of solemnity and gravity ; and as he removed his cap, he displayed a high, bold forehead, with what phrenologists would have called an extravagant development of the organs of locality. Indeed, these overhanging masses almost im- parted an air of retreating to a head that was singularly straight. " A number of letters have arrived for ydu, and you will find them in your room, Sir," continued Laufronchi, as he escorted him towards the stairs. A quiet bow acknowledged this speech, and the Doctor went on.: "I was charged with a message from Lord Lackington, too, who desired me to say, ' That he hoped to see you as soon as possible after your arrival.' May I inform him when you could receive him ?" . " Not to-night'; some time to-morrow about twelve o'clock, or half- past, if that will suit him," said the stranger, coldly. " Is Baron Grlumthal here ? "Well, tell him to come up to me, and let them send me some tea." " May I mention your arrival to his Lordship, for I know his great anxiety ?" " Just as you please," said the other, in the same quiet tone ; while he bowed in a fashion to dismiss his visitor. Having glanced casually at the addresses of a number of letters, he only opened one or two, and looked cursorily over their contents, and then opening a window which looked over the lake, he placed a chair on the balcony and sat down, as if to rest and reflect in the fresh and still night air. It was a calm and quiet atmosphere — not a leaf Btirred, not a ripple moved the glassy surface of the lake — so that as he sat he could overhear Doctor Lanfranchi's voice beneath an- nouncing his arrival to Lord Lackington. " If he can receive Glumthal, why can't he see me ?" asked the Viscount, testily. " Tou must go back and tell him that I desire par- ticularly to meet him this evening." " If you wish, my Lord " " I do, Sir," repeated he, more peremptorily. " Lady Lackington and myself have been sojourning here the last three weeks awaiting this arrival, and I am at a loss to see why our patience is to be pushed further. ' Pray take him my message, therefore." The Doctor, without speaking, left the room at once. DAVHOTOKT DUNN. 63 Lanfranchi was some minutes la the apartment before he dis- covered where the ' stiranger"was sitting, and then approaching him. softly, he communicated his Lordship's request. ' " I am afraid you must allow me to take my own way. I have contracted an .unfortunate habit in that respect," said the stranger, with a quiet smile. " Give my compliments to his Lordship, and say, that at twelve to-morrow I am at his orders ; and tell Baron Grlumthal that I expect him now." Lanfranchi withdrew ; and having whispered the message to the: Baron, proceeded -to make his communication to the Viscount. " Very well, Sir," said Lord Lackington, haughtily interrupting ; " something like an apology. Men of this sort have a business-like standard even ibr their politeness, and there is no necessity for me to teach them something better;" and then, turning to Twining, he added, "That was Dunn's arrival we heard a while ago." " Oh, indeed ! Very glad — quite rejoiced on your account more than my own. Dunn — Dunn; remarkable man — very," said Twining, hurriedly. " Thank Heaven ! we may be able to get away from this place to- morrow or next day," said Lord Lackington, sighing drearily. "Yes, of course; very slow for your Lordship — no society — nothing to do." " And the weather beginning to break ?" said Lord Lackington, peevishly. " Just so, as your Lordship most justly observes — the weather be- ginning to break." " Look at that troop of horses," said the Viscount, as the postilions passed beneath the window in a long file with the cattle juBt released from the travelling carriages. "There goes ten — no, but twelve, posters. He travels right royally — doesn't he ?" "Very handsomely, indeed; quite a pleasure to see it," said Twining, gleefully. " These fellows have little taet, with all their worldly shrewdness, or they'd not make such ostentatious display of their wealth." " Quite true, my Lord. It is indiscreet of them." " It is so like saying, ' This is our day !' " said the Viscount. " So it is, my Lord ; and a very pleasant day they have of it, I must say ; clever men — shrewd men — know the world thoroughly." " I'm not so very sure of that, Twining," said his Lordship, smiling half superciliously. " If they really had all the worldly knowledge you attribute to them, they'd scarcely venture to shock the feelings of society by assumptions of this sort. They would have more patience, Twining — more patience." 64 BATESPOET DUNN. " So they would, my Lord. Capital thing— excellent thing, pa- tience ; always rewarded in the end — great fun." And he rubbed his hands and laughed away pleasantly. " And they'll defeat themselves, that's what will come of it,. Sir," said Lord Lsfckington, not heeding the other's remark. " I quite agree with your Lordship," chimed in Twining. " And shall I tell you why they'll defeat themselves, Sir ?" " Like it of all things ; take it as a great favour on your Lord- ship's part." "For this reason, Twining, that they have no 'prestige' — no, Twining, they have no prestige. Now, Sir, wealth unassociated with prestige is just like — what shall I say ? — it is, as it were, a sort of local rank — a kind of thing like being Brigadier in the Bombay Army, but only a Lieutenant when you're at home ; so long, there- fore, as these fellows are rich, they have their influence. Let them suffer a reverse of fortune, however, and where will they be, Sir ?" " Can't possibly say ; but quite certain your Lordship knows-^-per- fectly sure of it," rattled out Twining. " I do, Sir. It is a subject on which I have bestowed considerable thought. I may go further and say, one which I have reduced to a sort of theory. These men are signs of the times— emblems of our era ; just like the Cholera, the Electric Telegraph, or the Gold Fields of Australia. We must not accept them as normal, do you perceive ; they are the abnormal incidents of our age." " Quite true; most just; very like the Electric Telegraph!" mut- tered Twining. " And by that very condition, only exercising a passing influence on our society, Sir," said his Lordship, pursuing his own train of thought. " Perfectly correct ; rapid as lightning." "And when they do pass away, Sir," continued the Viscount, " thev leave no trace of their existence behind them. The bubble burst, the surface of the stream remains without a ripple. I myself may live to see — you in all probability will live to see." " Tour Lordship far more likely — sincerely trust as much," said Twining, bowing. " "Well, Sir, it matters little which of us is to witness the ex- tinction of this Plutocracy." And as his Lordship enunciated this last word, he walked off like one who had totally exhausted his sub- ject. DAVENPOET DTJNH. 65 CHAPTER VIII. US. DDSH. Me. Davenpoet Dunn sat at breakfast in his spacious chamber overlooking the Lake of Como. In addition to the material appli- ances of that meal, the table was covered with newly-arrived letters, and newspapers, maps, surveys, railroad sections, and Parliamentary blue-bookB littered about, along with chalk drawings, oil minia- tures, some carvings in box and ivory, and a few bronzes of rare beauty and design. Occasionally skimming over the newspapers — now sipping his tea — or now examining some object of art through a magnifier — he dallied over his meal like one who felt the time thus passed a respite from the task of the day. At last he walked out, and, leaning over the balcony, gazed at the glorious landscape at his feet. It was early morning, and the great masses of misty clouds were slowly beginning to move up the Alps, disclosing as they went spots of bright green verdure, dark-sided ravines and cataracts, amid patches of pine forest, or dreary tracts of snow still lying deep in the mountain clefts. Beautiful as was the picture of the lake itself, and the wooded promontories along it, his eyes never turned from the rugged grandeur of the Alpine range, which he continued to gaze, at for a long time. So absorbed was he in his contemplation, that he never noticed the approach of another, and Baron G-lumthal was already leaning over the balustrade beside him ere he had perceived him. " "Well, is it more assuring now that you have looked at it ?" asked the Grerman, in English, of which there was the very slightest trace of a foreign accent. " I see nothing to deter one from the project," said Dunn, slowly. " These questions resolve themselves purely into two conditions — time and money. The Grand Army was only a corporal's- guard, multiplied by hundreds of thousands." " But the difficulties " " Difficulties !" broke in Dunn ; " thank Heaven for them, Baron, or you and I would be no better off in this world than the herd about us. Strong heads and stout hearts are the breaching artillery of man- kind — you can find rank and file any day." " When I said difficulties, I might have used a stronger word." i 1 66 DATENPOET DTTN3ST. " And yet," said Dunn, smiling, " I'd rather contract to turn the Alps yonder, than to drive a new idea into the heads of a people. See here, now," said he, entering the room, and returning with a large plan in his hand, " this is Chiavenna. "Well, the levels show that a line drawn from this spot comes out below Andeer, at a place called MUhlen — the distance something less than twenty-two miles. By Brumall's contract, you will perceive that if he don't meet with water " " But in that lies the whole question," broke in the other. " I know it, and I am not going to blink it. I mean to take the alternatives in turn." " Shall I spare you a deal of trouble, Dunn ?" said the German, laying his hand on his arm. " Our house has decided against the enterprise. I have no need to explain the reasons." "And can you be swayed by such counsels ?" cried Dunn, eagerly. " Is it possible that you will suffer yourselves to be made the dupes of a Bussian intrigue ?" " Say, rather, the agents of a great policy," said Glumthal, " and you will be nearer the mark. My dear friend," added he, in a lower and more confidential tone, " have I to tell you that your whole late policy in England is a mistake — your Crimean war a mistake — your Erench alliance a mistake — and your present attempt at a re- conciliation with Austria the greatest mistake of all ?" " Tou would find it a hard task to make the nation believe this," said Dunn, smiling. " So I might ; but not to convince your statesmen of it. They see it already. They perceive even now some of the perils of the course they have adopted." " The old story. I've heard it at least a hundred times," broke in Dunn. " "We have been overturning the breakwaters that the ocean may swamp us. But I tell you, Baron, that the more democratic we grow in England, the safer we become. ¥e don't want these alliances we fancied ourselves once in need of. That family compact redounded but little to our advantage." " So it might. But there is another compact now forming, which bodes even less favourably to you. The Church, by her Concordat, is replacing the old Holy Alliance. You'll need the aid of the only power that cannot be drawn into this league — I mean the only great power — Russia." "If you wait till we are so minded, Baron," said Dunn, laughing, " you have plenty of time to help me wiMfckmnel here." And he pointed to his plans. ^^ DAVENPOBT DUNN. 67 " And where will the world be — I mean your world and mine — before the pick of the workman reaches so far ?" — and he placed his finger on the Splugen Alps — " answer me that. "What will be the Government of France — I don't ask who ? Where will Naples be ? "What king will be convoking the Hungarian Diet ? "Who will be the Russian viceroy on the Danube ?" " Far more to the purpose were it if I could tell you how would the Three per Cents, stand," broke in Dunn. "I'm coming to that," said the other, dryly. "No, no," said he, after a pause ; " let us see this unhappy war finished — let us wait till we know who are to be partners in the great game of European politics. Lanfranchi tells me that the French and Russians who meet here come together on the best of terms ; that intimacies, and even friendships, spring up rapidly between them. This fact, if repeated in Downing-street, might be heard with some misgiving." Though Dunn affected indifference to this remark, he winced, and walked to the window to hide his irritation. Immediately beneath where he stood, a trellised vine-walk led down to the lake, where the boats were usually in waiting ; and from this alley now a number of voices could be heard, although the speakers were entirely hidden by the foliage. The gay and laughing tones indicated a pleasure-party ; and such it was, bent on a pic-nic to Bellaggio. Some were loud in praises of the morning, and the splendid promise of the day ; others discussed how many boats they should want, and how the party was to be divided. " The Americans with the Russians," said Twining, slapping his legs and laughing ; " great friends — capital allies — what fun ! Our- selves and the O'Reillys. — Spicer, look out, and see if they are coming." " And do you mean to say you'll not come ?" whispered a very soft voice, after the crowd had passed on. " Charmante Molly!" said Lord Lackington, in his most dulcet of accents, " I am quite heart-broken at the disappointment ; but when I tell you that this man has come some hundreds of miles to meet me here— that the matter is one of deepest importance " " And who is he ? Could you make him come too ?" " Impossible, ma belle. He is quite unsuited to this kind of thing —a mere creature of parchments. The very sight of him would only suggest thoughts of foreclosing mortgages and renewal fines." " How I hate him !" " Do, dearest — hate him to your heart's content — and for nothing more than the happiness of which he robs me." r2 68 DAVENPORT DUNN. " "Well, I'm sure, I did think " And she stopped, and seemed confused. " And what, pray, was it that you did think ?" said his Lordship, most winningly. "I thought two things, then, if you must know," said she, archly. " First, that a great personage like your Lordship would make a very small one like this Mr. Dunn understand it was his duty to await your convenience ; and my second thought was But perhaps you don't care to hear it ?" " Of all things. Pray go on." " "Well, then, my second was, that if I asked you to come, you'd not refuse me." " What an inexorable charmer it is !" cried he, in stage fashion. " Do you fancy you could ever forgive yourself, if, yielding to this temptation, I were really to miss this man ?" " Tou told me yourself, only yesterday," said she, " ce que femme veut Besides, you'll have him all day to-morrow, and the next, and—" " Well, so be it. See how I hug my chains," said he, drawing her arm within his, and moving on towards the boat. " Were you to be of that party, Baron ?" asked Dunn, pointing to the crowd beside the lake. " So I was. The Princess engaged me last night ; they are going to the Plinniana and Bellaggio. Why not join us ?" " Oh, I have a score of letters to write, and double as many to read. In fact, I have kept all my work for a quiet day in this nice tranquil spot. I wish I could take a week here." " And why not do it ? Haven't you yet learned that it is the world's duty to wait on us ? Por my own part, I have always found that one emerges from these secluded places with renewed energy and awakened vigour. I heard Stadeon once say that when anything puzzled him, he went to pass a day at Maria Zell, and he never came away without hitting on the solution. They are beckoning to me, so good-by !" " Anything puzzled him !" muttered Dunn, repeating the words of the other's story. " If he but knew that what puzzles me at this moment is myself!" The very nature of the correspondence that then littered his table might well warrant what he felt. Who, and what was he, to whom great ministers wrote confidentially, and secretaries of state began, " My dear Dunn ?" How had he risen to this eminence ? What were the gifts by which he held, and was to maintain it ? Most men who DAVE1TP0BT DUNN. 69 have attained to high station from small beginnings, have so con- formed to the exigencies of each new change in life as to carry but little of what they started with to their position of eminence ; gradually assimilating to the circumstances around them as they went, they flung the past behind them, only occupied with those qualities which should fit them for the future. Not so Davenport Dunn ; he was ever present to his own eyes as the son of the very humblest pa- rentage — the poor boy educated by charity, struggling drearily through years of poverty — the youth discouraged and slighted — the man repulsed and rejected. Certain incidents of his life never left him ; there they were, as if photographed on his heart ; and at will he could behold himself, as he was turned away ignominiously from Kellett's house ; or a morning scarce less sad, as he learned his rejection for the sizership ; or the day still more bitter that Lord Glengariff put him out of doors, with words of insult and shame. Like avenging spirits, these memories travelled with him wherever he journeyed. They sat beside him as he dined at great men's tables ; they loitered with him in his lonely walks, and whispered into his ear in the dark hours of the night. No high-hearted hope, no elevating self-reliance, had sustained him through these youthful reverses ; each new failure, on the contrary, seemed to have impressed him more and more strongly with the conviction that the gifts which win success in life had not been vouchsafed him ; that his abilities were of that humble order which never elevate their possessor above mere mediocrity ; that if he meant to strive for the great prizes of life, it must be less by addressing himself to great intellectual efforts than by a patient study of men themselves — of their frailties, their weaknesses, and their follies. "Whatever he had seen of the world had shown him how invariably the greatest minds were alloyed with some deteriorating influence, and that passions of one kind or other, ambitions more or less worthy, even the subtlety of flattery, swayed those whose intellects soared loftily among their fellows. " I cannot share in the tilt with these," said he. " Mine are no gifts of elo- quence or imaginative power; I am not versed in the mysteries of science, nor deep-read in the intricacies of law. Let me, however, see if I cannot, by dexterity, accomplish what is denied to my strength. Every man, whatever his station, covets wealth. The noblest and the meanest, the man dignified by exalted aspirations, the true creature of selfish enjoyments, are all alike enlisted in the pursuit. Let me consider how this common tendency may be best turned to account. To enrich others, it is not necessary that I should be wealthy myself. The geographer may safely dictate the route by 70 DAVENPOET DUNN. which the explorer is to journey through a desert he has never travelled himself. The great problems of finance can he worked by sugges- tions in a garret, though their application may demand millions." Starting thus from an humble attorney in a country town, he gra- dually grew to be known as a most capable adviser in all monetary matters: rich men consulted him about profitable investments and safe employment of their capital ; embarrassed men confided to him their difficulties, and sought his aid to meet them ; speculators asked his advice as to this or that venture ; and even those who gambled on the eventful fortunes of a ministry were fain to be guided by his wise predictions. "Dunn has got me the money on reasonable terms" — "Dunn has managed to let me have five per cent." — "Dunn assures me I may risk this" — " Dunn tells me that they'll carry the bill next session," — such and such things were the phrases one heard at every turn, till his opinion became a power in the land, and he grew to feel it so. This first step led to another and a higher one. Through the moneyed circumstances of men he came to learn their moral natures : against what temptations this one was proof; to what that other would yield ; what were the goals for which each were striving ; what the secret doubts and misgivings that beset them. What the doctor was to the world of sickness and infirmity did he become to the world of human passion and desire. Men came to him with the same un- reserve — they stripped before him and laid bare the foul spots of their heart's disease, as though it were but repeating the story to them- selves. Terrible and harrowing as are the tales which reach the physician's ears, the stories revealed to his were more terrible and harrowing still. They came to him with narratives of reckless waste and ruin ; with histories of debt that dated a century back ; with worse, far worse — with tales of forgery and fraud. Crimes for which the law would have exacted its last expiation were whispered to him in that dreary confessional — his private office — and the evidences of guilt placed in his hands that he might read and reflect over them. And as the doctor moves through life with the sad knowledge of all the secret suffering around him — how little that "flush" indicates of health, how faintly beats the heart that seems to swell with hap- piness — so did this man walk a world that was a mere hospital ward of moral rottenness. Why should the priest and the physician be the only men to trade upon the infirmities of human nature ? Why should they be the sole depositaries of those mysteries by which men's actions can be swayed and moulded ? By what temptations are men so assailable as those that touch their material fortunes, and DAVJSNrOBT DTJMT. 71 why not make this moral country an especial study ? Such were his theory and his practice. There is often a remarkable fitness — may we call it a " pre-esta- blished harmony?" — between men and the circumstances of their age, and this has led to the opinion that it is by the events them- selves the agents are developed; we incline to think differently, as the appearance of both together is rather in obedience to some over- ruling edict of Providence which has alike provided the work and the workmen. It would be a shallow reading of history to imagine Cromwell the child of the Eevolution, or Napoleon as the accident of the battle of the sections. Davenport Dunn sprang into eminence when, by the action of the Encumbered Estates Court, a great change was operated in the con- dition of Ireland. To grasp at once the immense consequences of a tremendous social revolution — to foresee even some of the results of this sweeping confiscation — required no common knowledge of the country, and no small insight into its habits. The old feudalism that had linked the fate of a starving people with the fortunes of a ruined gentry was to be extinguished at once, and a great experiment tried. "Was Ireland to be more governable in prosperity than in adversity ? This was a problem which really might not seem to challenge much doubt, and yet was it by no means devoid of difficulty to those minds who had long based their ideas of ruling that land on the principles of fomenting its dissensions and separating its people. Davenport Dunn saw the hesitation of the moment, and offered himself at once to solve the difficulty. The transfer of property might be conducted in such a way as to favour the views of a particular party in the state : the new proprietary might be selected, and the aim of a government consulted in the establishment of this new squirearchy. He thought so at least, and, what is more, he persuaded a chief secretary to be- lieve him. Nothing reads more simply than the sale of an encumbered estate: " In the matter of Sir Eoger O'Moore, Bart., Brian O'Moore, and Margaret Halliday, owners, and Paul Maybey, petitioner, the Com- missioners will, on Friday next, at the hour of noon," — and so on ; and then come the descriptive particulars of Carrickross, Dummay- magan, and Lantygoree, with Griffith's valuation and the ordnance survey, concluding with a recital of all the penalties, reservations, covenants, clauses, <&c, with the modest mention of twenty odd pounds some shillings tithe-rent charge, for a finish. To dispossess of this a man that never really owned it for the last forty years, and invest it in another, who never saw it, was the easy operation of the auctioneer's 72 DAVEUPOET DTON. hammer, and with a chief commissioner to ratify the sale, few things seem easier than the whole process. Still there are certain aspects in the transaction which suggest reflection. What were the ties, what the relations, between the original owner and .the tenantry who held under him ? "What kind of social system had bound them — what were the mutual services they rendered each other ? For the reverence and respect tendered on one side, and for the thousand little charities and kindnesses bestowed on the other, what was to be the compen- sation ? How was that guidance and direction, more or less inherent in those who are the heads of a neighbourhood, to be replaced? "Was it quite certain that the incoming proprietor would care to study the habits, the tastes, and the tempers of the peasantry on his estate, learn their ways, or understand -their difficulties ? And, lastly, what new political complexion would the country wear ? Would it become more Conservative or more Whig, more Democratic or more Saxon ? Davenport Dunn's opinion was, that the case was precisely that of a new colony, where the first settlers, too busy about their material interests to care for mere speculative questions, would attach them- selves heartily to any existing government, giving their adhesion to whatever afforded protection to their property and safety to their lives. " Take this new colony," said he, " into your especial care, and their sons and grandsons will be yours afterwards. A new regiment is being raised — write your own legends on their colours, and they are your own." He sketched out a system by which this new squirearchy was to be dealt with — how courted, flattered, and rewarded. He showed how, in attaching them to the state, the government of , the country might be rendered more easy, and the dreaded influence of the priest be antagonised most effectually ; and, . finally, demon- strated that Ireland, which had been the stereotyped difficulty of every administration, might now be turned into a stronghold against opposition. To replace the great proprietary whose estates were now in the market by a new constituency in accordance with his views, was therefore his general scheme, and he addressed himself to this task with all his peculiar energy. He organised the registry of all the en- cumbered estates of Ireland, with every detail which could illustrate the various advantages ; he established an immense correspondence with English capitalists eager for new investments ; he possessed himself of intimate knowledge of all the variations and fluctuations which attend the money market at certain periods, so that he knew the most favourable moments to suggest speculation ; and, lastly, he had craft enough to carry his system into operation without any suspicion BATENPOET DUNN. 73 being attached to it ; and was able to say to a Viceroy, " Look and judge for yourself, my Lord, whose influence is now paramount in Ireland." Truly, it was not easy for a government to ignore him — his name turned up at every moment. Prom the stirring incident of a great county election to the small contest for a poor-law guardianship, he figured everywhere, until every question of policy became coupled with the inevitable demand, " "What does Dunn think of it ?" Like all men of strong ambition, he encouraged few or no intimacies ; he had actually no friendships. He wanted no counsels — nor would he have stooped to have laid a case for advice before any one. Partly in consequence of this he was spoken of generally in terms of depre- ciation and discredit. Some called him lucky — a happy phrase that adapts itself to any fancy ; some said he was a common-place, vulgar fellow, with certain business aptitudes, but quite incapable of any wide or extended views ; some again went further, and said he was the mere tool of certain clever heads that did not care to figure in the foreground ; and not a few wondered that " a man of this kind " should have ever attained to any eminence or station in the land. " You'll see how his Excellency will turn him to account ; he knows how to deal with fellows of this stamp," said a Private Secretary in the Castle. " I have no doubt, sir, Mr. Davenport Dunn would agree with you," said the Attorney- General, with a sneer ; " but the opinion would be bad in law !" "He's not very much of a churchman, I suspect," whispered a Bishop ; " but we find him occasionally useful." " He serves our purpose !" pompously spoke a Country Gentleman, who really, in the sentiment, represented a class. Such was the man who now sat alone, communing with himself, in his room at the Villa d'Este. Let us believe that he had enough to. think of. 74 DAYEUPOBT DTTOT. CHAPTEE IX. A DAT ON THE LAKE OF COMO. "We fully sympathise ■with Lord Lackington, who preferred the pic-nic and the society of Miss Molly O'Eeilly to the cares of busi- ness and an interview with Davenport Dunn. The Lake of Como, on a fine day of summer or early autumn, and with a heart mode- rately free from the anxieties and sorrows of life, is a very enjoyable locality, and essentially so to a man of the world like the noble Viscount, who liked to have the more romantic features of the scene blended with associations of ease and pleasure, and be able to turn from the contemplation of Alpine ruggedness to the sight of some ter- raced garden, glowing in the luxuriance of its vegetation. Never, perhaps, was there ever a spot so calculated to appeal successfully to the feelings of men of his stamp. There was mountain grandeur and desolation — snow-peak and precipice ; but all in the back distance, not near enough to suggest even the fear of cold, or the disagreeable idea of a sledge journey. There were innumerable villas of every style and class : some, spacious and splendid enough for royal resi- dences ; others, coquettish little chalets, where lovers might pass the honeymoon. There were tasteful pavilions over the very lake — snug spots where solitude might love to ponder, a student read, or an idler enjoy his cigar, in the most enviable of scenes. Trellised vine-walks zigzagged up the hills to some picturesque shrine whose modest little spire rose above the olive-trees, or some rude steps in the rock led down to a little nook, whose white sands glistened beneath the crystal waters —such a bath as no Sybarite, in all his most glowing fancy, ever ima- gined. And amid all, and through all, there was that air of wealth — that assurance of affluence and abundance — which comes so home to the hearts of men whose sense of enjoyment can only be gratified where there is to be no sacrifice to their love of ease. In the noble Vis- count's estimation, the place was perfect. It was even associated with the solitary bit of romance of his whole life. It was here that he passed the first few weeks after his wedding ; and though he had preserved very little of those feelings which imparted happiness to that period, though her Ladyship did not recal to his mind the attrac- tions which once had fascinated him — new glazed and new lacquered over and over again as was the vase—" the scent of the roses had DAVENPOBT DUNN. 75. clung to it still." The distance that lends enchantment to the mate- rial, has also its influence on. the moral, picture. Memory softens and subdues many a harsh tint, mellows many an incongruity, and blends into a pleasant harmony many things which, in their proximity, were the reverse of agreeable. Not that we would be understood to say that Lord Lackington's honeymoon was not lite yours, an elysium of happiness and bliss ; we would simply imply that, in recalling it, he only remembered the rose-tints, and never brought up one of the shadows. He had, in his own fashion, poetised that little episode of his life, when, dressed in a fancy and becoming costume, he played Gondolier to his young bride, scaled the mountain to fetch her Alp- roses, and read aloud " Childe Harold," as he interpolated Harrow recollections of its author. Not one of these did he now remember— he'd as soon have dreamed of being marker at a billiard-table, as of play- ing the Barcarole ; and as to mountain excursions, he'd not have bar- gained for any success that required the exertion of a steep Btaircase. " There's a little villa in a bay, somewhere hereabouts," said he, as the boat glided smoothly along ; " I should like much to show it to you." This was addressed to Molly O'Eeilly, who sat beside him. "Do you happen to know La Pace?" asked he of one of the boat- men. " To be sure I do, Bccellenza. Who doesn't ? My own father was barcarole there to a great milordo, I can't say how many years back. Ah," added he, laughing, " what stories he used to have of that same milordo, who was always dressing himself up to be a gondolier or a chamois hunter." " "We haven't asked for your father's memoirs, my good fellow ; we only wanted you to show us where La Pace lies," said the Viscount, testily. " There it is, then, Eccellenza," said the man, as they rounded a little promontory of rock, and came in full view of a small cove, in the centre of which stood the villa. Untenanted and neglected as it was, there was yet about it that glorious luxuriance of vegetation — that rare growth of vines and olive, and oleander and cactus, which seems to more than compensate all the care and supervision of men. The overloaded orange-trees dipped their weary branches in the lake, where the golden balls rose and fell as the water surged about them. The tangled vines sprawled over the ground, staining the deep grass with their purple blood. Olive berries lay deep around, and a thousand perfumes loaded the air as the faint breeze stirred it. " Let me show you a true Italian villa," said the Viscount, as the 76 DATENPOET DVHTS. boat glided up to the steps cut in the marble rock. " I once passed a few weeks here ; a caprice seized me to know what kind of life it would be to loiter amidst olive groves, and have no other company than the cicala and the green lizard. " Faith, my Lord," said O'Eeilly, "if you could live upon figs and lemons you'd have nothing to complain of, but I'm thinking you found it lonely." " I scarcely remember, but my impression is, I liked it," said he, with a slight hesitation. " I used to lie under that great cedar, yonder, and read Petrarch." " Capital fun — excellent — live here for two hundred a year, or even less — plenty of fish in the lake — keep the servants on water melons," said Twining, slapping his legs, as he made this domestic calculation to himself. "With people one liked about one," said Miss O'Eeilly, "I don't see why this shouldn't be a delicious spot." " There's not a hundred yards of background. You couldn't give a horse walking exercise here, if your life was on it," said Spicer, con- temptuously. "Splendid grapes, wonderful oranges, finest melons I ever saw, all going to waste, too," said Twining, laughing, as if such utter neglect was a very droll thing. " Get this place a bargain — might have it for a mere nothing." " So you might, O'Eeilly," said the Viscount ; " it is one of those deserted spots that are picked up for a tenth of their value ; buy it, fit it up handsomely, and we'll come and spend the autumn with you, won't we, Twining ?" " Upon my life we will, I'll swear it ; be here 1st September to the day, and stay till as long as you please. Great fun." " Delicious spot to come and repose in from the cares and worries of life," said Lord Lackington, as he stretched upon a bench and began peeling an orange. " I'd get the blue devils in a week — I'd be found hanging some fine morning " "For, shame, papa," broke in Molly. "My Lord says he'd come on a visit to us, and you know we'd only be here in the autumn." " Just so — come here for the wine season — get in your olives and look after your oil — great fun," chimed in Twining, merrily. " I declare I'd like it of all things, would not you ?" said the elder girl to Spicer, who had now begun to reflect that there was a kind of straw-yard season for men as well as for hunters — when the great ob- DAVETTPOBT ETON. 77 ject was to live cheap and husband your resources ; and as he ruminated over the lazy quietness of an existence that would cost nothing — when even his Bell's Life should be inserted amongst the family extraordinaries — he vouchsafed to approve the scheme, and in his mumbling tone, in imitation of Heaven knows what celebrated sport- ing character, he grumbled out, " Make the governor go in for it, by all means !" Twining had entered into the project most eagerly. One of the most marked traits of his singular mind was not merely to enjoy his ' own pre-eminence in wealth over so many others, but to chuckle over all the possible mistakes which he had escaped and they had fallen into. To know that there was a speculation whose temptation he had resisted and which had engulphed all who engaged in it — -to see the bank fail whose directorship he had refused — or the railroad smash whose preference shares he had rejected, — this was an intense delight to him, and on such occasions was it that he slapped his lean legs most enthusiastically, and exclaimed, " What fun !" with the true zest of enjoyment. To plant a man of O'Eeilly's stamp in such a soil seemed, therefore, about the best practical joke he had ever heard of, and so he walked him over the villa, discoursing eloquently on all the advantages of the project — the great social position it would confer — the place he would occupy in the country — the soundness of the investment — the certainty of securing great matches for the girls. " What a view that window opened of the Splugen Alps !— what a delicious spot, this little room, to sip one's claret of an autumn evening ! Think of the dessert growing almost into the very dining-room, and your trout leaping within a yard of the breakfast-table ! Austrians charmed to have you — make you a Count — a Hof something or other, at once — give you a cross — great fun, eh ? — Graf O'Eeilly — sound admirably — do it by all means." *While Twining's attack was being conducted in this fashion, Lord Lackington was not less industriously pursuing his plan of campaign elsewhere. He bad sauntered with Molly into the garden and a little pavilion at the end of it, where the lake was seen in one of its most picturesque aspects. It was a well-known spot to him ; he had passed many an evening on that low window-seat, half-dreamingly forgetting himself in the peaceful scene — half consciously recalling pleasant nights at Brookes's, and gay dinners at Carlton House. Here was it that he first grew hipped with matrimony, and so sated with its hap- piness, that he actually began to long for any little disaster that might dash the smooth monotony of his life; and yet now, by one of 78 DAVENPOBT DUNN. those strange tricks memory plays us, he fancied that the moments he had once passed here had never been equalled in all his after life. " I'm certain, though you won't confess," said she, after one of his most eloquent bursts of remembered enjoyment — " I'm certain you were very much in love, those days." " An ideal passion, perhaps, a poetised vision of that bright creature who should, one day or other, sway this poor heart," and he flattened the creases of his spotless white waistcoat ; " but if you mean that I " knew of any, had ever seen any, until now, this very moment " " Stop ! remember your promise," said she, laughing. " But, charmante Molly, I'm only mortal," said he, with an air of such superb humility, that made her at once remember it was a peer who said it. • ,•■■'■■ " Mortals must keep their word," said she, pertly. " The condition on which I consented, to accept your companionship , was 'Bat I needn't remind you." " No, do not, dear, Molly, for I shall be delighted to forget it. Tou are aware that no law ever obliged a man to do what was impossible ; and that to exact any pledge from him to such an end is in itself an illegality. Tou little suspected, therefore, that it was you, not I, was the delinquent.' ' "All I know is, that you assured me you'd not — you'd not talk nonsense," said she, blushing deeply, half angry, half ashamed. "Oh! never guessed you were here," broke in Twining, as he peeped through the window. ' " Sweet spot-^so quiet and secluded— capital fun !" " There is such a view from this, papa," said Molly, in some con- fusion at Twinihg's bantering look ; " come round and see it." "I have. just been telling this dear girl of yours, O'Keilly, that you ought to make this place your own," said Lord Lackingfcon. " Don't fancy you'd be out of the world here. Why there's the Villa d'Bste, a European celebrity at once — it will be thronged next year to suffocation. The OaUgnam, I see, has already mentioned myself and Lady Lackington as among the visitors. These things have their effect. The press in our day is an estate." " Indeed, I'm sure of it. There was a cousin of my wife's drew his two hundred a year out of the Tyrawley Express — a daily little paper that maybe your Lordship never seen." " "When I said an estate, sir, I rather alluded to a recognised con- dition of power and influence than to mere wealth. Not, I will add, that I am one of those who approve of this consummation ; nor can I see how men of my order can ever so regard it." I s w ^ s;c BAVETJPOBT DUNN. 79 ""Well," said O'Eeilly, sighing, as though the confession cost something, "there's nothing equal to a newspaper. I'm reading Saunders this eight-and-forty years, and I own to you I never found one I liked so much. For you see, my Lord, it's the same with a paper as with your house — you ought to know where to lay your hand on what you want. Now, you might as well put me in Buck- ingham Palace, and tell me to find my bedroom, as give me the Times and bid me discover the Viceregal Court. If they mention it at all, it's among the accidents and offences." " Castle festivities — Patrick's Hall — great fun !" said Twining, laughing pleasantly, for he cherished some merry recollections of these hospitalities. " Have you But of course you were too young for presenta- tion," said his Lordship to Molly. " We weren't out ; but, in any case, I'm sure we'd not have been there," said Molly. " The pleasure of that presentation may perhaps be reserved for me, who knows ?" said the "Viscount, graciously. " If our people come in, it is the post they'd offer me." " Lord-Lieutenant !" said Molly, opening her eyes to the fullest. " Even so, ma belle. Shall we rehearse the ceremony of presen- tation? Twining, do you perform the Chamberlain. Stand aside O'Eeilly — be a gentleman at large, or an Ulster King-at-Arms. Now for it." And so saying, he drew himself proudly up to an attitude of considerable dignity, while Twining, muttering to himself, " "What fun !" announced aloud, "Miss Molly O'Eeilly, your Excellency ;" at which, and before she was aware, his Excellency stepped one step in advance and saluted her on either cheek with & cordiality that covered her with blushes. " That's not it, at alL I'm certain," said she, half angrily. " On my life, it's the exact ceremony, and no more," said the Viscount. Then resuming the performance, he added, " Take care, Twining, that she is put on your list for the balls. O'Eeilly, your niece is charming." " My niece — sure she's—" " Tou forget, my worthy friend, that we are enacting Viceroy, and cannot charge our memory with the ties of kindred." Spicer now came up to say that a thunderstorm was threatening, and that the wisest course would probably be to land the luncheon and remain where they were till the hurricane should pass over. The proposition was at once approved of, and the party were soon busily occupying themselves in the cares for the entertainment ; all agreeing 80 BATENPOET DUNK. that they felt no regret at being separated from the other boat, which had proceeded up the lake ; in fact, as Mr. O'Eeilly said, " they were snugger as they were, without the Eoosians," — a sentiment in various ways acknowledged by the rest. Strange freemasonry is there in conviviality : the little prepara- tions for this pic-nic dinner disseminated amidst them all the fel- lowship of old acquaintance, and, as they assisted and aided each other, a degree of kindliness grew up that bound them together like a family. Each vied with each in displaying his power of usefulness and agreeability ; even the noble Viscount, who actu- ally did nothing whatever, so simulated occupation and activity, that he was regarded by all as the very life and soul of the party. And yet we are unjust in saying he did nothing, for he it was, who by the happy charm of his manner, the ready tact of a consum- mate man of the world, imparted to the meeting its great success. Unused to the agreeable qualities of such men, O'Eeilly felt all the astonishment that great conversational gifts inspire, and sat amazed and delighted at the stores of pleasant stories, witty remarks, and acute observations poured out before him. He knew nothing of the skill by which these abilities were guided, nor how, like cunning shopkeepers dressing their wares to most ad- vantage, such men exhibit their qualities with all the artifice of display. He never suspected the subtle flattery by which he was led to fancy himself the intimate of men whose names were freely talked of before him, till at length the atmosphere of the great world was to him like the air he had breathed from childhood. • " How the Prince would have relished O'Eeilly," said the Viscount to Twining, in a whisper easily overheard. " That racy humour, that strong native common sense, that vigorous disregard of petty obstacles wherever he is bent on following out a path — his Eoyal Highness would have appreciated all these." " "Unquestionably — been charmed with them — thought him most agreeable — great fun." " Tou remind me of O'Kelly — Colonel O'Kelly — O'Eeilly ; strange enough, too, each of you should be of that same old Celtic blood. But perhaps it is just that very element that gives you the peculiar social fascination I was alluding to. Tou are not old enough, Twining, to remember that small house with the bay-windows opening on the Birdcage-walk ; it was like a country parsonage dropped down in the midst of London, with honeysuckles over the porch, and peacocks on the lawn in front of it. O'Kelly and Payne lived there together — the two pleasantest bachelors that ever joined in partnership. The Prince dined with them by agreement every DAVE1TP0ET DTOIT. 81 Friday. The charm of the thing -was no state, no parade whatever. It was just as if O'Beilly here were to take this villa, and say, ' Now, Lackington, I am rich enough to enjoy myself, I don't want the worry and fatigue of hunting out the pleasant people of the world ; but you know them all, you understand them — their ways, their wants, and their requirements — just tell me frankly, couldn't we manage to make this their rallying spot throughout Europe ? Settled down here in the midst of the most lovely scenery in the world, with a good cook and a good cellar, might not this place become a perfect Paradise?'" " If I only knew that your Lordship, just yourself alone, and of course the present company,'' added O'Beilly, with a bow round the table, " would vouchsafe me the honour of a visit, I'd be proud to be the owner of this place to-morrow. Indeed, I don't see why we wouldn't be as well here as trapesing over the world in dust and heat. If, then, the girls see no objection " " I should like it of all things, papa," broke in Miss O'Beilly. " I am charmed with the very thought of it," cried Molly. " Capital thought — romantic notion — save any amount of money, and no taxes," muttered Twining. " There is no approach by land whatever," said Spicer, who fore- saw that all his horse capabilities would receive no development here. " All the better," broke in Twining ; " no interlopers — no fellows cantering down to luncheon, or driving over to dine — must come by boat, and be seen an hour beforehand." " If I know anything of my friend here," said the Viscount, " his taste will rather lie in the fashion of a warm welcome than a polite denial to a visitor. You must talk to Lanfranchi about the place to- morrow, O'Beilly. He's a shrewd fellow, and knows how to go about these things. " Faith, my Lord, I see everything in sunshine so long as I sit in such company. It's the very genial kind of thing I like. A few friends — if I'm not taking too great a liberty " " No ; by no means, O'Beilly. The esteem I feel for you, and that Twining feels for you"— here his Lordship looked over at Spicer and slightly nodded, as though to say, "There is another there who re- quires no formal mention in the deed"—" are not passing sentiments, and we sincerely desire they may be accepted as true friendship." "To be sure— unquestionably— great regard— unbounded admira- tion — what fun !" muttered Twining, half aloud. The evening wore along in pleasant projects for the future. Spicer had undertaken to provide workmen and artificers of various kinds to 82 DAVENPOET Draw. repair and decorate the villa and its grounds. He knew of such a gardener, too ; and he thought, by a little bribery and a trip down to Naples, he might seduce the Prince of Syracuse's cook — a Sicilian, worth all the Frenchmen in the world for an ultramontane " cuisine." In fact, ere the bright moonlight on the lake reminded them of their journey homeward, they had arranged a plan of existence for the O'Eeillys almost Elysian in its enjoyments. Pew things develop more imaginative powers than the description of a mode of life wherein " money is no object," and wishing and having are convertible terms. Let a number of people — the least gifted though they be with the graces of fancy — so picture forth such an existence, and see how, by the mere multiplication of various tastes, they will end by creating a most voluptuous and splendid tableau. O'Reilly's counsellors were rather adepts in their way, and certainly they did not forget one single ingredient of pleasure ; till, when the boat glided into the little bay of the D'Este, such a story of a life was sketched out as nothing out of fairy-land could rival. " I'll have it, my Lord; the place is as good as mine this minute," said O'Reilly, as he stepped on shore; and as he spoke his heart thrilled with the concentrated delights of a whole life of happiness. CHAPTER X. A " SMALL DINNBE." Lady Lackington and Lady Grace Twining passed the morning together. Their husbands' departure on the pic-nic excursion offered them a suitable subject to discuss those gentlemen, and they improved the occasion to some purpose. The Yiscountess did not, indeed, lean very heavily on her lord's failings ; they were, as she described them, the harmless follies of certain middle-aged gentlemen, who, despite time and years, would still be charming and fascinating. " He likes those little easy conquests he is so sure of amongst vulgar people," said she. " He affects only to be amused by them, but he actually likes them ; and then, as he never indulges in this sort of thing except in out-of-the way places, why there's no great harm in it." Lady Grace agreed with her, and sighed. She sighed, because she thought of her own burden, and how far more heavily it pressed. DAVENPOET BTTIW. 83 Twining* s were no little foibles — no small weaknesses; none of his faults had their root in any easy self-deceptions. Everything he did, or said, or thought, was maturely weighed and considered ; his. gay, laughing manner — his easy, light-hearted gesticulation — his ready concurrence in the humour about him, were small coin that he scat- tered freely while he pondered over heavy investments. Prom long experience of his crafty, double-dealing nature, coupled with something very near aversion to him, Lady Grace hsfd grown to believe that in all he said or did some unseen motive lay, and she brought herself to believe that even his avaricious and miserly habits were practised still less for the sake of saving than for some ulterior and secret end. Of the wretched life they led she drew a dreary picture : a mock splendour for the world — a real misery at home; all the outward semblance of costly living — all the internal consciousness of meanness and privation. He furnished houses with magnificence that he might let them ; he set up splendid equipages, that, when seen, they should be sold. " My very emeralds," said she, " were admired and bought by the Duchess of Windermere. It is very difficult to say that there is anything out of which he cannot extract a profit. If my ponies were praised in the Park, I knew it was only the prelude to their being at Tattersall's in the morning ; even the camelia which I wore in my hair was turned to advantage, for it sold the conservatory that raised it. And yet they tell me that if — they say that — I mean — I am told that the law would not construe these as cruelty, but simply a very ordinary exercise of marital authority, something unpleasant, perhaps, but not enough to warrant complaint, still less resistance." " But they are cruelties," broke in Lady Lackington ; " men in Mr. Twining's rank of life do not beat their wives " " No, they only break their hearts," sighed Lady Grace ; " and this, I believe, is perfectly legal." " They were doing, or going to do, something about that t'other day in the Lords. That dear old man, Lord Cloudeslie, had a bill, or an amendment to somebody's bill, by which — I'm not sure I'm quite correct about it — but I believe it gave the wife power to take her settlement. No, that is not it : she was to be able, after five years of great cruelty I'm afraid I have no clear recollection of its provisions, but I know the odious Chancellor said it would effectually make women independent of men." " Of course it never will become law, then," sighed Lady Grace again. " Who knows, dear ? They are always passing something or other a2 84 DAVENPOBT DTTNN. they're sorry for afterwards in either House. Shall I tell you who'd know all about it ? — that Mr. Davenport Dunn. He is just the kind of person to understand these things." " Indeed !" exclaimed Lady Grace, with more animation in her manner. " Let us ask him to dinner," said Lady Lackington ; " I know him sufficiently to do so — that is, I have met him once. He'll be charmed, of course ; and if there is anything very good and very safe to be •done on the Bourse, he'll certainly tell us." " I don't care for the Bourse. Indeed, I have nothing to specu- late with." " That is the best reason in the world, my dear, to make a venture ; at least, so my brother-in-law, Annesley, says. Tou are certain to come out a winner ; and in my own brief experiences, I never gave anything — I only said, ' Tes, I'll have the shares.' They were at fifty- eight and three-quarters, they said, and sure to be at sixty-four or five ; and they actually did rise to seventy, and then we sold — that is, Dunn did — and remitted me twelve hundred and fifty-three pounds odd." " I wish he could be equally fortunate with me. I don't mean as regards money," said Lady Grace ; and her cheek became crimson as " I have always said there's a fate in these things ; and who knows if his being here just at this moment is not a piece of destiny." " It might be so," said the other, sadly. " There," said Lady Lackington, as she rapidly wrote a few lines on a piece of note paper, " that ought to do : " ' Dear Mb. Dunn, — If you will accept of an early dinner, with Lady Grace Twining and myself for the company, to-day, you will much oblige " ' Tours truly, " ' Geobqiana Lackington.' To another kind of man I'd have said something about two ' pauvres femmes delaiss^es,' but he'd have been frightened, and probably not come." " Probably," said Lady Grace, with a sigh. " Now, let us try the success of this." And she rang a bell, and de- spatched the note. Lady Lackington had scarcely time to deliver a short essay on the class and order of men to which Mr. Davenport Dunn pertained, when the servant returned with the answer. It was a very formal DATENPOET DUNN. 85 acceptance of the invitation: "Mr. Davenport Dunn presented his compliments," — and so on. " Of course, he comes," said she, throwing the note away. " Do you know, my dear, I half suspect we have been indiscreet ; for now that we have caught our elephant, what shall we do with him ?" " I cannot give you one solitary suggestion." " These people are not our people, nor are their gods our gods," said Lady Lackington. " If we all offer up worship at the same temple, the Bourse," said Lady Grace, something sadly, "we can scarcely dispute about a creed." " That is only true in a certain sense," replied the other. " Money is a necessity to all— the means of obtaining it may, therefore, be common to many. It is in the employment of wealth, in the tasteful expenditure of riches, that we distinguish ourselves from these people. You have only to see the houses they keep, their plate, their liveries, their equipages, and you perceive at once that whenever they rise above some grovelling imitation they commit the most absurd blunders against all taste and propriety. I wish we had Spicer here to see about this dinner, it is one of the very few things he understands : but I suppose we must leave it to the cook himself, and we have the comfort of knowing that the criticism on his efforts will not be of a very high order." " We dine at four, I believe," said Lady Grace, -in her habitual tone of sorrow, as she swept from the room with that gesture of pro- found woe that would have graced a queen in tragedy. Let us turn for a moment to Mr. Davenport Dunn. Lady Lack- ington's invitation had not produced in him either those overwhelm- ing sensations of astonishment, or those excessive emotions of delight, which she had so sanguinely calculated on. There was a time that a viscountess asking him thus to dinner had been an event, the very fact being one requiring some effort on his part to believe; but these days were long past. Mr. Dunn had not only dined with great people since that, but had himself been their host and entertainer. Noble lords and baronets had sipped his claret, right honourables praised his sherry, and high dignitaries condescended to inquire where he got "that exquisite port." The tremulous, fainthearted, doubting spirit — the suspectful, self-distrusting, humble man, had gone, and in his place there was a bold, resolute nature, confident and able, daily test- ing his strength against some other in the ring, and as often issuing from the contest, satisfied that he had little to fear from any anta- gonist. He was clever enough to see that the great objects in life 86 DAVEITPOKT DTOir. are aecomplislied less by dexterity and address than by a strong, un- deviating purpose. The failure of many a gifted man, and the high success of many a common-place one, had not been without its lesson for him ; and it was in the firm resolve to rise a winner that he sat down to the game of life. Lady Lackington's invitation was, therefore, neither a cause of pleasure nor astonishment. He remembered having met her some- where, some time, and he approached the renewed acquaintance with- out any one of the sentiments her Ladyship had so confidently predicted. Indeed, so little of that flurry of anticipation did he experience, that he had to be reminded her Ladyship was waiting dinner for him, before he could remember the pleasure that was be- fore him. It may be a very ungallant confession for this true history to make, but we cannot blink saying that Lady Lackington and Lady Grace both evidenced by their toilette that they were not indifferent to the impression they were to produce upon their guest. The Viscountess was dressed in the perfection of that French taste whose chief characteristic is freshness and elegance. She was light, gauzy, and floating — a sweeping something of Valenciennes and white muslin — but yet human withal, and very graceful. Her friend, in deep black, with a rich lace veil fastened on her head behind, and draped artistically over one shoulder, was a charming personification of affliction not beyond consolation. When they met, it was with an exchange of looks that said, "This ought to do." Lady Lackington debated with herself what precise manner of reception she would award to Mr. Dunn — whether to impose by the haughty condescension of a fine lady, or fascinate by the graceful charm of an agreeable one. She was "equal to either fortune," and could calculate on success, whichever road she adopted. "While she thus hesitated, he entered. If his approach had little or nothing of the man of fashion about it, it was still a manner wherein there was little to criticise. It was not bold nor timid, and, without anything like over confidence, there was yet an air of self-reliance that was not without dignity. At dinner the conversation ranged over the usual topics of foreign travel, foreign habits, collections, and galleries. Of pictures and statues he had seen much, and evidently with profit and advantage ; of people and society he knew next to nothing, and her Ladyship quickly detected this deficiency, and fell back upon it as her strong- hold. DAVENPOET DUNST. 87 " When hard-worked men like myself take a holiday," said Dunn, " they are but too glad to escape from the realities of life by taking refuge amongst works of art. The painter and the sculptor suggest as much poetry as can consist with their stern notions, and are always real enough to satisfy the demand for fact." " But would not what you call your holiday be more pleasantly passed in making acquaintances ? Tou could, of course, have easy access to the most distinguished society." " I'm a bad Frenchman, my Lady, and speak not a word of German or Italian." " English is very generally cultivated just now — the persons best worth talking to can speak it." " The restraint of a strange tongue, like the novelty of a court dress, is a sad detractor from all naturalness. At least, in my own little experience with strangers, I have failed to read anything of a man's character when he addressed me in a language not his own." " And was it essential you should have read it ?" asked Lady Grace, languidly. " I am always more at my ease when I know the geography of the land I live in," said Dunn, smiling. " I should say you have great gifts in that way — I mean in de- ciphering character," said Lady Lackingfcon. " Tour Ladyship flatters me. I have no pretensions of the kind. Once satisfied of the sincerity of those with whom I come into contact, I never strive to know more, nor have I the faculties to attempt, more." " But, in your wide-spread intercourse with life, do you not, insen- sibly as it were, become an adept in reading men's natures ?" " I don't think so, my Lady. The more one sees of life, the simpler does it seem, not from any study of humanity, but by the easy fact that three or four motives sway the whole world. An unsupplied want of one kind or other — wealth, rank, distinction, affection, it may be — gives the entire impulse to a character, just as a passion imparts the expression to a face ; and all the diversities of temperament, like those of countenance, are nothing but the impress of a want — you may call it a wish. Now it may be," added he, and as he spoke he stole a glance, quick as lightning, at Lady Grace, "that such experiences are more common to men like myself — men, I mean, who are en- trusted with the charge of others' interests ; but assuredly I have no clue to character save in that one feature — a want." " But I want fifty thousand things," said Lady Lackington. " I 88 DAVENPOBT DUNN. want a deal of money ; I want that beautiful villa near Palermo, the ' Serra Novena ;' I want that Arab pony Kratuloff rides in the park ; I want, in short, everything that pleases me every hour of the day." " These are not wants that make impulses, no more than a passing shower makes a climate," said Dunn. " What I speak of is that un- ceasing, unwearied desire that is with us in joy or sadness, that journeys with us and lives with us, mingling in every action, blending with every thought, and presenting to our minds a constant picture of ourselves under some wished-for aspect different from all we have ever known, where we are surrounded with other impulses and swayed by other passions, and yet still identically ourselves. Lady Grace apprehends me." " Perhaps — at least partly," said she, fanning herself and conceal- ing her face. " There are very few exempt from a temptation of this sort, or if they be, it is because their minds are dissipated on various objects." "T hate things to be called temptations, and snares, and the rest of it," said Lady Lackington ; " it is a very tiresome cant. Tou may tell me, while I am waiting for my fish-sauce at dinner, it is a temptation, but if you wish me really to understand the word, tell me of some wonderful speculation, some marvellous scheme for securing millions. Oh ! dear Mr. Dunn, you who really know the way, will you just show me the road to — I will be moderate — about twenty thousand pounds ?" " Nothing easier, my Lady, if you are disposed to risk forty." " But I am not, sir. I have not the slightest intention to risk one hundred. I'm not a gambler." " And yet what your Ladyship points at is very like gambling." " Pray place that word along with temptation, in the forbidden category ; it is quite hateful to me." "Have you the same dislike to chance, Lady Grace," said he, stealing a look at her face with some earnestness. " No," said she, in a low voice, "it is all I have to look for." " By the way, Mr. Dunn, what are they doing in Parliament about us ? Is there not something contemplated by which we can insist upon separate maintenance, or having a suitable settlement, or " " Separation — divorce," said Lady Grace, solemnly. " No, my Lady, the law is only repairing an old road, not making a new one. The want of the age is cheapness, cheap literature, cheap postage, and cheap travelling, and why not cheap divorce ? Legisla- tion now professes as its great aim to extend to the poor all the com- forts of the rich, and as this is supposed to be one of them " k\^ DAVENPOBT.DOTN'. °» " Have you any reason to doubt'it,' sir ?" asked; Lady Grace. "Luxuries cease to' be luxuries .when they become _cbirunon.; Cheap divorce will be as unfashionable: as cheap , pihe>apple; when- a •coal'- heaver can have it," said Lady Lackington; • ■ • i ■ ■■ u " You mistake, it seems to me,. what constitutes>the luxury," inter- posed Lady Grace. " Every day," of the year sees .men liberated from prison, yet no one will pretend, that'the sense offree'dom is less dear to every creature thus delivered;". • . , "Tour figure is but too like," said; Dunn. . "The divorced wife will be to the world only too much a resemblance of the liberated prisoner. Dark or fair, guilty or. innocent,' she: will carry with herthe opprobrium of a public'trial, a discussion, and a verdict. Now, how few of us would' go through an operation in public for the cure of a malady. Would we not rather hug our sorrows and our sufferings in secrecy j than accept health oh such conditions ?": " Not when the disease was consuming your, very vitals — not when a perpetual fever racked your brain ■ and: boiled in your. blood. Tou'd take little heed of what is called exposure then. The cij. of your heart: would be,.-' Save me! 'save me!'" As. she spoke, her voice grew louder and wilder, : till it became. almost a shriek, aitdj. as she ended;- she lay back flushed and pantMg in her chair. " You • have . made ■ her iquit'e. nervous, Mr. ' Dunn, said' Lady Lackr ington; as Bhe arose and fanned her. ..>■;■- " Oh! no. It's nothing. Just let me have a little fresh air — on the terrace. Will you give me your arm ?" said Lady Grace, faintly. And Dunn assisted her as she. arose and walked out. -. "How very delicious this is!" said she, as she leaned over the balcony,.and gazed down upon the placid. water, streaked with long lines of starlight. "I conclude," said she, after a little pause,!". that. scenes like ; this^- moments as peacefully tranquil-r^are as dear to you, hard-worked men of the world, as they are to the wearied hearts, of us: poor women, all whose ambitions are so humble in. comparison!" " We are all of us. striving .for the same goal, I believe," said he, "this same search after happiness, the source of so much misery !" • " Tou are not married, I believe ?" said she, in an accent whose very softness had a tone of friendship. " No. I am as much alone in the world as one well can be," re- joined he, sorrowfully. ... " And have you' gone through life without: ever meeting : one with whom you would have been content to, make partnership — taking her, as those! solemn words say; !for better, for. worse;?' " "They are solemn words," said'he,evadingherquestion;. "for they 90 DAVENPOBT DUHN. pledge that for which it is so hard to promise — the changeful moods which time and years bring over us. "Which of us at twenty can say what he will be at thirty — still less at fifty ? The world makeB us many things we never meant to be." " So, then, you are not happy ?" said she, in the same low voice. " I have not said so much," said he, smiling sadly; " are you ?" " Can you ask me ? Is not the very confidence wherewith I treat you — strangers as we were an hour back to each other — the best evidence that it is from the very depth of my misery I appeal to you?" " Make no rash confidences, lady Grace," said he, seriously. " They who tell of their heart's sorrows to the world are like those who count their gold before robbers. I have seen a great deal of life, and the best philosophy I have learned from it is to ' bear.' Bear everything that can be borne. You will be surprised what a load you will carry by mere practice of endurance." " It is bo easy to say to one in pain, ' Have patience,' " said she, bitterly. " I have practised what; I teach for many a year. Be assured of one thing — the Battle of Life is waged by all. The most favoured by fortune — the luckiest, as the world calls them— have their contest and their struggle. It is not for existence, but it is often for what makes existence valuable." She sighed deeply, and, after a pause, he went on: " We pity the poor, weary, heart-sick litigant, wearing out life in the dreary prosecution of a Chancery suit, dreaming at night of that fortune he is never to see, and waking every day to the same dull round of pursuit. As hope flickers in his heart, suffering grows a habit ; his whole nature imbibes the conflicting character of his cause ; he doubts, and hesitates, and hopes, and fears, and wishes, till his life is one long fever. But infinitely more painful is the struggle of the heart whose affections have been misplaced. These are the suits over which no hope ever throws a ray. It is a long, dreary path, without a halting-place or a goal." As he spoke, she covered her race with her handkerchief; but he could perceive that she was weeping. " I am speaking of what I know," said he. " I remember once coming closely into relations with a young nobleman whose station, fortune, and personal advantages combined to realise all that one "could fancy of worldly blessings. He was just one of those types a novelist would take to represent the most favoured class of the most favoured land of Europe. He had an ancient name, illustrious in DAVENPOBT DUNN. 91 various ways, a splendid fortune, was singularly endowed with abilities, highly accomplished, and handsome, and, more than all, lie was gifted with that mysterious power of fascination by which some men contrive to make themselves so appreciated by others that their influence is a. sort of magic. Give him an incident to relate — let him have a passing event to tell, wherein some emotion of pity, some sentiment of devotion played a part — and, without the slightest touch of artifice, without the veriest shade of ingenuity, he could mate yon listen breathlessly, and hang in rapture on his words. "Well, this man— of whom, if I suffer myself to speak, I shall grow weari- some in the praise — this man was heart-broken. Before he succeeded to his title, he was very poor, a subaltern in the army, with little be- yond his pay. He fell in love with a very beautiful girl — I never heard her name, but I know that she was a daughter of one of the first houses in England. She returned his affection, and there was one of those thousand cases wherein love has to combat all the odds, and devotion subdue every thought that appeals to worldly pride and vanity. " She accepted the contest nobly: she was satisfied to brave humble fortune, obscurity, exile — everything for him — at least, she said so, and I believe she thought she could keep her word. When the en- gagement took place—which was a secret to their families — the London season had just begun. " It is not for me to tell you what a period of intoxicating pleasure and excitement that is, nor how in that wondrous conflict of wealth, splendour, beauty, and talent, all the fascination of gambling is im- parted to a scene where, of necessity, gain and loss are alternating. It demands no common power of head and heart to resist these temp- tations. Apparently she had not this self-control. The gorgeous festivities about her, the splendour of wealth, and, more than even that, the esteem in which it was held, struck her forcibly. She saw that the virtues of humble station met no more recognition than the false lustre of mock gems — that ordinary gifts, illustrated by riches, became actual graces. She could not shut out the contrast between her lover, poor, unnoticed, and unregarded, and the crowd of fashion- able and distinguished youths whose princely fortunes gave them place and pre-eminence. In fact, as he himself told me — for Allington excused her Good Heavens ! are you ill ?" cried he, as, with a low, faint cry, she sank to the ground. " Is she dying ? Good God ! is she dead ?" cried Lady Laekington, as she lifted the powerless arm, and held the cold hands within her own. 92 DATENPOET DTT1W. Lanfranchi was speedily sent for, and saw that it was merely a fainting fit. " She was quite well previously, was she not ?" asked he of Dunn. "Perfectly so. We were chatting of indifferent matters — of London, and the season — when she was seized," said he. " Is there anything in the air here that disposes to these attacks ?" Lanfranchi looked at him without reply. Possibly they understood each other, for they parted without further colloquy. CHAPTER XI. 'A CONSULTATION.' It was late in the night as Lord Lackington and his friends reached the villa, a good deal wearied, very jaded, and, if the confession may be. made, a little sick of each other ; they parted pretty much as the members of such day-long excursions are wont to do — not at all sorry to have reached home again, and brought their trip of pleasure to an end. Twining, of course, was the same happy-natured, gay, volatile creature that he set out in the morning. Everything went well with him ; the world had but one aspect, which was a pleasant one, and he laughed and muttered, "What fun !" as in half-dogged silence the party wended their way through the garden towards the house. " I hope these little girls may not have caught cold," said the Viscount, as he stood with Twining on the terrace, after saying "Goodnight!" " I hope so, with all my heart. Charming girls — most fascinating — father so amiable." " Isn't that Dunn's apartment we see the light in ?" asked the other, half impatiently. " I'll go and make him a visit." " Overjoyed to see you, greatly flattered by the attention," chimed in Twining ; and while he rubbed his hands over the enchanting pro- spect, Lord Lackington walked away. Not waiting for any announcement, and turning the handle of the door immediately after he had knocked at it, the Viscount entered. Whether Dunn had heard him or not, he never stirred from the table where he was writing, but continued engrossed by his occupation till his Lordship accosted him. . v BATENPOET DTOIT. 93 " I have come to disturb you, I fear, Dunn ?" "Oh! Lord Lackington, your most obedient. Too happy to be honoured by your presence at any time. Just returned, I conclude ?" " Tes, only this moment," said the Viscount, sighing weariedly. " These pic-nics are stupid inventions, they fatigue and they exhaust. They give little pleasure at the time, and none whatever to loot back upon." " Tour Lordship's picture is rather a dreary one," said Dunn, smiling. " Perfectly correct, I assure you ; I went simply to oblige some countryfolks of yours. The O'Eeillys — nice little girls — very na- tural, very pretty creatures ; but the thing is a bore. I never knew any one who enjoyed it except the gentleman who gets tipsy, and he has an awful retribution in the next day's headache — the terrible headache of iced rum punch." Dunn laughed, because he saw that his Lordship expected as much, and the Viscount resumed : " I am vexed, besides, at the loss of time ; I wanted to have my morning with you here." Dunn bowed graciously, but did not speak. " "We have so much to talk over — so many things to arrange — that I am quite provoked at having thrown away a day ; and you, too, are possibly pressed for time ?" He nodded in assent. " Tou can give me to-morrow, however ?" " I can give you to-night, my Lord, which will, perhaps, do as well." " But to-morrow " " Oh, to-morrow, my Lord, I start with Baron Grlumthal for Frank- fort, to meet the Elector of Darmstadt, — an appointment that cannot be broken." " Politically most important, I have no doubt," said the Viscount, with an undisguised sarcasm in the tone. " No, my Lord, a mere financial afiair," said Dunn, not heeding the other's manner. " His Highness wants a loan, and we are willing to accommodate him." " I wish I could find you in the same liberal spirit. It is the very thing I stand in need of just now. In fact, Dunn, you must do it." The half-coaxing accent of these last words was a strong contrast to the sneer of a few seconds before, and Dunn smiled as he heard them. 94 DAYETTPOBT DUNN. " I fancy, my Lord, that if you are still of the same mind as before, you will have little occasion to arrange for a loan in any quarter." " Pooh ! pooh ! the scheme is absurd. It has not one, but fifty obstacles against it. In the first place, you know nothing of this fellow, or whether he can be treated with. As for myself, I do not believe one word about his claim. Why, Sir, there's not a titled house in England has not at some period or other been assailed with this sort of menace. It is the stalest piece of knavery going. If you were to poll the peers to-morrow, you'd not meet two out of ten have not been served with notice of action, or ejectment on the title ; in fact, Sir, these Buits are a profession, and a very lucrative one, too." Lord Lackington spoke warmly, and ere he had finished had lashed himself up into a passion. Meanwhile, Dunn sat patiently, like one who awaited the storm to pass by ere he advanced upon his road. " I conclude, from your manner, that you do not agree with me ?" said the Viscount. " Tour Lordship opines truly. I take a very different view of this transaction. I have had all the documents of Conway's claim before me. Far more competent judges have seen and pronounced upon them. They constitute a most formidable mass of evidence, and save in a few and not very important details, present an unbroken chain of testimony." " So, then, there is a battery preparing to open fire upon us ?" said the Viscount, with a laugh of ill-affected indifference. "There is a mine whose explosion depends entirely upon your Lordship's discretion. If I say, my Lord, that I never perused a stronger case, I will also say that I never heard of one so easy of management. The individual in whose favour these proofs exist has not the slightest knowledge of them. He has not a suspicion that all his worldly prospects put together are worth a ten-pound note. It is only within the last three months that I have succeeded in even discovering where he is." " And where is he ?'* " Serving as a soldier with his regiment in the Crimea. He was in hospital at Scutari when I first heard, but since that returned to duty with his regiment." " What signifies all this ? The fellow himself is nothing to us !" Dunn again waited till this burst of anger had passed, and then resumed : " My Lord, understand me well. Tou can deal with this case DAVEWPOBT DTTN1T. 95 now ; six months hence it may be clear and clean beyond all your power of interference. If Conway's claim derive, as I hare strong ground to believe it, from the elder branch, the estate and the title are both his." " Tou are a hardy fellow, a very hardy fellow, Mr. Dunn, to make such a speech as this !" " I said, If, my Lord — If, is everything here. The assumption is, that Reginald Conway was summoned by mistake to the House of Peers in Henry the Seventh's reign — the true Baron Lackington being then an exile. It is from him this Conway's descent claims." " I'm not going to constitute myself a Committee of Privileges, Sir, and listen to all this jargon ; nor can I easily conceive that the unshaken possession of centuries is to be disturbed by the romantic pretensions of a Crimean soldier. I am also aware how men of your cloth conduct these affairs to their own especial advantage. They assume to be the arbiters of the destinies of great families, and they expect to be paid for their labours — eh, isn't it so ?" " I believe your Lordship has very accurately defined our position, though, perhaps, we might not quite agree as to the character of the remuneration." " How so ? What do you mean ?" " I, for instance, my Lord, would furnish no bill of costs to either party. My relations with your Lordship are such as naturally give me a very deep interest in what concerns you ; of Mr. Conway I know nothing." " So, then, you are simply moved in this present affair by a prin- ciple of pure benevolence ; you are to be a sort of providence to the House of Lackington — eh, is that it ?" "Your Lordship's explanation is most gracious," said Dunn, bowing. " Come, now ; let us talk seriously," said the Viscount, in a changed tone. " "What is it you propose ?" "What I would suggest, my Lord," said Dunn, with a marked emphasis on the word, " is this. Submit the documents of this claim — we can obtain copies of the most important of them — to competent opinion, learn if they be of the value I attribute to them, see, in fact, if this claim be prosecuted, whether it is likely to succeed at law, and, if so, anticipate the issue by a compromise." " But what compromise ?" " Tour Lordship has no heir. Your brother, who stands next in succession, need not marry. This point at once decided, Conway's 96 BATENPOET DTTNN. claim can take its course after Mr. Beecher's demise. The estates secured to your Lordship for life will amply guarantee a loan to the extent you wish." " But they are mine, Sir ; they are mine this moment. I can go into the market to-morrow and raise what amount I please " " Take care, my Lord — take care ; a single imprudent step might spoil all. If you were to negotiate a mere ten thousand to-morrow, you might be met by the announcement that your whole properly was about to be litigated, and your title to it contested. Too late to talk of compromise then." " This sounds very like a threat, Mr. Dunn." "Then have I expressed myself most faultily, my Lord; nor was there anything less near my thoughts." " Would you like to see my brother ; he shall call on you in Dublin ; you will be there by — when ?" " Wednesday week, my Lord ; and it is a visit would give me much pleasure." " If I were to tell you my mind frankly, Dunn," said the Viscount, in a more assured tone, " I'd say, I would not give a ten-pound note to buy up this man's whole claim. Annesley, however, has a right to be consulted — he has an interest only second to my own. See him, talk it over with him, and write to me." " Where shall I address you, my Lord." " Florence — I shall leave this at once — to-night," said Lord Lack- ington, impatiently ; for somehow — we are not going to investigate wherefore — he was impatient to be off, and see no more of those he had been so intimate with. DAVENPOET DUNN. 97 CHAPTEE XII. ANNESLEY BEECHER'S " PAL." Loed Laokington was not much of a letter-writer ; correspon- dence was not amongst the habits of his day. The society in which he moved, and of which, to some extent, he was a type, cared more for conversational than epistolary graces. They kept their good things for their dinner parties, and hoarded their smart remarks on life for occasions where the success was a personal triumph. Twice or thrice, however, every year, he was obliged to write. His man of business required to be reminded of this or that necessity for money, and his brother Annesley should also be admonished, or reproved, or remonstrated with, in that tone of superiority and influence so well befitting one who pays an annuity to him who is the recipient. In fact, around this one circumstance were grouped all the fraternal feelings and brotherly interest of these two men. One hundred and twenty-five pounds sterling every half year represented the ties of blood that united them ; and while it offered to the donor the proud reflection of a generous self-sacrifice, it gave to him who received the almost as agreeable occasion for sarcastic allusion to the other's miserly habits and sordid nature, with a contrast of what he himself had done were their places in life reversed. It was strange enough that the one same incident should have begotten such very opposite emotions, and yet the two phrases, " If you knew all I have done for him," and the rejoinder, " Tou'd not believe the beggarly pittance he allows me," were correct exponents of their several feelings. Not impossible is it that each might have made out a good case against the other. Indeed, it was a theme whereon, in their several spheres, they were eloquent ; and few admitted to the confidence of either had not heard of the utter impossibility of doing anything for Annesley — his reckless folly, his profligacy, and his waste ; and, on the other hand, " The incredible meanness of Lackington, with at least twelve thousand a year, and no children to provide for, giving me the salary of an upper butler." Each said far too much in his own praise not to have felt at least strong misgivings in his con- science. Each knew far too well that the other had good reason in H 98 DATENPOET XfUTSTX. many things lie said ; but so long had their own plausibilities been repeated, that each ended by satisfying himself he was a paragon of fraternal affection, and, stranger still, had obtained for this opinion a distinct credence in their several sets in society ; so that every Peer praised the Viscount, and every hard-up younger son pitied poor Amiesley, and condemned the " infamous conduct of the old coxcomb his brother." "That scampish fellow's conduct is killing poor Lackington," would say a noble lord. " Amiesley can't stand old LacMngton's treatment much longer," was the commentary of half -pay captains of dragoons. Had you but listened to Lord Lackington he would have told you of at least fifty distinct schemes he had contrived for his brother's worldly success, all marred and spoiled by that confounded reckless- ness, " that utter disregard, Sir, of the commonest rules of conduct that every man in life is bound to observe." He might have been by this time Colonel of the Fifty-something ; he might have been Governor of some fortunate island in the Pacific — Consul-General at Sunstroke Town, in Africa, where, after three years, you retire with a full pension. If he'd have gone into the Church — and there was no reason why he shouldn't — there was the living of St. Cuthbert-in- the-Vale, eight hundred a year, ready for him. Every Administration for years back had been entreated in his favour ; and from Ordnance clerkships to Commissions in Lunacy he had been offered places in abundance. Sinecures in India and jobs in Ireland had been found out in his behalf, and Deputy-somethings created in Bermuda just to provide for him. The concessions he had made, the proxies he had given, "just for Annesley's sake," formed a serious charge against the noble Lord's political consistency ; and he quoted them as the most stunning evidences of fraternal love, and pointed out where he had gone against his conscience and his party as to a kind of martyrdom that made a man illustrious for ever. As for Annesley, his indictment had, to the full, as many counts. What he might have been — not in a mere worldly sense — not as re- gards place, pension, or emolument — but what in integrity, what in fair fame, what in honourable conduct and unblemished character, if Lackington had only dealt fairly with him — " there was really no saying." The noble motives which might have prompted, the high aspirations that might have moved "him , all the generous im- pulses of a splendid nature, were there, thwarted, baffled, and de- stroyed, by Lackington's confounded stupidity. What the Viscount ought to have done), what precise species of culture he should have iaveitpoet mn O'Eeilly ?" " That's easy enough." " I say, I say, old fellow," cried Beeeher, as he flung his cigar away and walked up and down the room briskly, " this would put us all on our legs again. Wouldn't I ' go a heavy pot' on Bolt's stable L I'd take Coulton's three-year-old for the Canterbury to-morrow- 1 would \ and give them twelve to twenty in hundreds on the double event. We'd serve them out, Master Grog — we'd give them such a shower-bath, old boy ! They say I'm a flat, but what will" they say when A. B.'s number hangs out at the Stand-house ?" 108 DAVENPOET DUNN. "There's not much to do on the turf just now," said Grog, dryly. " They've spoiled the turf," said he, as he lighted his cigar — ' clean spoiled it. Once upon a time the gents was gents, and the legs, legB, but now-a-days every one ' legs' it, as he can ; so I'd like to see who's to make a livin' out of it !" " There's truth in that !" chimed in Beecher. " So that," resumed Grog, " if you go in for this girl, don't you be making a book; there's plenty better things to be had now than the ring. There's companies, and banks, and speculations on every hand. Tou buy in at, say thirty, and sell out at eighty, ninety, or a hundred. I've been a meditating over a new one I'll tell you about another time — let us first think about this here marriage, it ain't im- possible." " Impossible ! I should think not, Master Grog. But you will please to remember that Lackington has no child. I must succeed to the whole thing — title and all." " Good news for the Jews, wouldn't it be ?" cried Davis. ""Why, your outlying paper wouldn't leave much of a margin to live on. Tou owe upwards of a hundred thousand — that you do." " I could buy the whole concern to-morrow for five-and-twenty thousand pounds. They can't touch the entail, old fellow !" " My word on't, they'd have it out of you, one way or other ; but never mind, there's time enough to think of these things — -just stir yourself about this marriage." "I'll start on Monday. I have one or two trifling matters to look after here, and then I'm free." "What's this in the turn-down of Lackington's letter, marked ' Strictly confidential ?' " ' I meant to have despatched this yesterday, but fortunately deferred doing so — fortunately, I say — as Davenport Dunn has just arrived here, with a very important communication, in which your interest is only inferior to my own. The explanation would be too long for a letter, and is not necessary besides, as D. will be in Dublin a day or two after this reaches you. See him at once ; his address is Merrion-square North, and he will be fully prepared for your visit. Be on your guard. In truth, D., who is my own solicitor and man of business in Ireland, is somewhat of a crafty nature, and may have other interests in his head paramount to those of, yours, " ' Lackington.' " " Can you guess what this means, Grog ? has it any reference to the marriage scheme ?" " No ; this is another match altogether," said Grog, sententiously ; DAVE1TP0BT DUNN. 109 " and this here Dunn — I know about him though I never seen him — is the swellest cove going. You ain't fit to deal with himrr-jov. ain't !" added he, contemptuously. " If you go and talk to that fellow alone, I know how 'twill be." " Come, come, I'm no flat." Grog's look — one of intense derision — stopped him, and after stammering and blushing deeply, he was silent. " Tou think, because you have a turn of speed among cripples, that you're fast," said Grog, with one of his least amiable grins, "but I tell you, that except among things of your own breeding, you'd never save a distance. Lord love ye ! it never makes a fellow sharp to be ' done ;' that's one of the greatest mistakes people ever make. It makes him Buspicious — it keeps him on the look-out, as the sailors say; but what's the use of being on the look-out if you haven't got good eyes ? It's the go-ahead makes a man now-a-days, and the cautious chaps have none of that. No, no; don't you go rashly and trust' yourself alone with Dunn. You'll have to consider well over this — you'll have to turn it over carefully in your mind. I'd not wonder," said he, after a pause, "but you'll have to take me with you!" CHAPTER XIII. A MESSAGE FROM JACK. " He's come at last, Bella," said Kellett, as, tired and weary, he entered the little cottage one night after dark. " I waited till I saw him come out of the station at "Westland-row, and drive off to his house." "Did he see you, papa? — did he speak to you?" asked she, eagerly. " See me — speak to me ! It's little he was thinking of me, darling ! with Lord Glengariff shaking one of his hands, and Sir Samuel Downie squeezing the other, and a dozen more crying out, ' "Welcome home, Mr. Dunn ! it is happy we are to see you looking so well ; we were afraid you were forgetting poor Ireland and not coming back to us !' And by that time the carmen took up the chorus, and began cheering and hurraing, ' Long life and more power to Daven- port Dunn !' I give you my word, you'd have thought it was Daniel 110 JnAVEKTBOBT DOTS. O'Connell, or at least a new I/ord-Iiieuteiaant, if you saw the uproar and excitement there was about him." " And he — how did he take it?" asked she. " Just as cool as if he had a born right to it all. ' Thank you very much — most kind of you,' he muttered,. with a little smile and a wave of his hand, as much as to :say, 'There now, that'll do. Don't you see that I'm travelling incog., and don't want any more homage?'" . " Oh, no, papa — not that — it was rather like humility " " Humility !" said he, bursting into a bitter laugh — *' you know the man well] Humility! there are not ten noblemen in Ireland this minute has the pride and impudence -morrow, Captain Kellett," said he. " I may say I have seen you well and hearty, and I may tell the poor fellow : — I'm sure you'll let me tell him' — that you have heartily for- given him ?" Old Kellett shook his head mournfully ; and the other went on : " It's a hard thing of a dark night in the trenches, or while you' lie on the wet ground in front of them, thinking of home and far away, to have any one thought but love and affection in your heart. It doesn't de to be mourning over faults and follies, and grieving over things one is sorry for. One likes to think, too, that they who are at home, happy at their firesides, are thinking kindly of us. A man's i 2 116 DAVENPOBT DTON. heart is never bo stout before the enemy as when he knows how dear he is to some one far away." As the youth spoke these words half falteringly, for he was natu- rally bashful and timid, Bella turned her eyes fully upon his, with an interest she had not felt before, and he reddened as he returned her gaze. " I'm sure you forgive me, Sir," said he, addressing Kellett. " It was a great liberty I took to speak to you in this fashion ; but I was Jack's comrade — he told me every secret he had in the world, and I know how the poor fellow would march up to a Eussian battery to-morrow with an easier heart than he'd hear one hard word from you." " Ask Bella there if I ever said a word, ever as much as mentioned his name," said Kellett, with all the self-satisfaction of egotism. Bella's eyes quickly turned towards the soldier, with an expression so full of significance that he only gave a very faint sigh, and mut- tered : " "Well, I can do no more ; when I next hear from Jack, Sir, you shall know it." And with this he moved towards the door. Bella hastily whispered a few words in her father's ear, to which, as he seemed to demur, she repeated still more eagerly. " How could we, since it's Sunday, and there will be Beecher coming out ?" muttered he. " But this is a gentleman, papa ; his soldier jacket is surely no disgrace " " I couldn't, I couldn't," muttered he, doggedly. Again she whispered, and at last he said : " Maybe you'd take your bit of dinner with us to-morrow, Con- way — quite alone, you know." The young fellow drew himself up, and there was, for an instant, a look of haughty, almost insolent, meaning in his face. There was that, however, in Bella's which as speedily overcame whatever irrita- tion had crossed his mind, and he politely said : " If you will admit me in this dress — I have no other with me." " To be sure — of course," broke in Kellett. " "When my son is wearing the same, what could I say against it ?" The youth smiled good-naturedly at this not very gracious speech ; mayhap the hand he was then holding in his own compensated for its rudeness, and his " G-ood-by !" was uttered in all frankness and cor- diality. DAYEKPOET DTJIW. 117 CHAPTEE XIV. A DINNER ATjPAUL KELLETT'S. To all you gentlemen who live at home at ease there are few things less troublesome than the arrangement of what is called a dinner party. Some difficulty may possibly exist as to the guests. Lady Mary may be indisposed. It might not be quite right to ask Sir Harry to meet the Headleys. A stray embarrassment or two will arise to require a little thought or a little management. The ma- terial details, however, give no care. There is a stereotyped mode of feeding one's Mends, out of which it is not necessary, were it even possible, to issue. Tour mock-turtle may have a little more or less the flavour of Madeira; your salmon be somewhat thicker in the shoulder ; your sirloin be a shade more or less underdone ; your side dishes a little more or less uneatable than your neighbour's, but, after all, from the caviare to the cheese, the whole thing follows an easy routine, and the dinner of No. 12 is the fac-simile of the dinner at No. 13 ; and the same silky voice that whispers " Sherry, Sir ?" has its echo along the whole street. The same toned-down uni- formity pervades the intellectual elements of the feast — all is quiet, jog-trot, and habitual ; a gentle atmosphere of murmuring dulness is diffused around, very favourable to digestion, and rather disposing to sleep. How different are all these things in the case of the poor man, especially when he happens to be a reduced gentleman, whose memo- ries of the past are struggling and warring with exigencies of the present, and the very commonest necessities are matters of grave difficulty. Kellett was very anxious to impress his son's friend with a sense of his social standing and importance, and he told Bella " not to mind spending the whole week's allowance, just to show the soldier what Jack's family was." A leg of mutton and a little of Kinnahan's port constituted, in his mind, a very high order of entertainment ; and these were at once voted. Bella hoped that after the first outburst of this ostentatious fit he would fall back in perfect indifference about the whole matter ; but far from it — his waking thought in the 118 DAVENPOBT DVHTS. morning was the dinner, and when she remarked to him at breakfast on the threatening aspect of the clouds, his reply was, " No matter, dear, if we have plenty of capers." Even the unhappy possibility of Beecher's " dropping in" was subordinate to his wish to cut a figure on the occasion; and he pottered about from the dining-room to the kitchen, peeped into saucepans, and scrutinised covered dishes with a most persistent activity. Nor was Bella herself quite averse to all this. She saw in the distance— remotely it mightbe — the glimmer- ing of a renewed interest about poor Jack. " The pleasure this little incident imparts," thought she, " will spread its influence wider. He'll talk of him, too — he'll be led on to let him mingle with our daily themes. Jack will be one of us once more after this ;" and so she encouraged him to make of the occasion a little festival. "What skill did she Hot practise, what devices of taste not display, to cover over the hard features of their stern poverty ! The few little articles of plate which remained after the wreck of their fortune were placed on the sideboard, conspicuous amongst which was a cup " pre- sented by his brother officers to Captain Paul Kellett, on his retire- ment from the regiment, with which he bad served thirty-eight years" — a testimonial only exhibited on the very most solemn occa- sions. His sword and sash — the same he wore at "Waterloo — were arrayed over the fireplace, and his Talavera chako — grievously damaged by a Trench sabre— hung above them. " If he begins about 'that expedition' " — it was thus he always designated the war in the Crimea — " Bella, I'll just give him a touch of the real thing, as wo had it in the Peninsula! Faith, it wasn't digging holes in the ground we were then ;" and he laughed to himself at the absurdity of the conceit. The few flowers which the garden owned at this late season, humble and common as they were, figured on the chimney-piece, and not a resource of ingenuity was neglected to make that little dinner- room look pleasant and cheery. Fully a dozen times had Kellett gone in and put the room, never weary of admiring it, and as con- stantly muttering to himself some praise of Bella, to whose taste it was all owing. " I'd put the cup in the middle of the table, Bella. The wallflowers would do well enough at the sideboard. Well, maybe you're right, darling ; it is less pretentious, to be sure. And be careful, dear, that old Betty has a clean apron. May I never, but she's wearing the same one since Candlemas ! And don't leave her any corks to draw — she's the devil for breaking them into the bottle. I'll sit here, where I can have the screw at my hand. There's a great convenience in a small room, after ail. By the good day, here's PATENPOET DUNN. X19 Beecher !" exclaimed he, as that worthy individual approached the doer, " "What's all this for, Kellett, old boy ? Are you expecting the Vioeroy, or celebrating a family festival, eh? What does it mean?" " 'Tis a mutton chop I was going to give a friend of Jack's — a young fellow that brought me a letter from him yesterday," " Oh ! your son Jack. By the Way, what's his regiment— Light Dragoons, isn't it ?" " No ; the Eifles," said Kellett, with a short cough. " He's pretty high up for his lieutenancy by this, ain't he ?" said Beecher, rattling on. " He joined before Alma,, didn't he ??' "Yes'; he was at the battle," said. Kellett, dryly J for though he bad once or twice tp\4- his honourable friend, that Jack was in the service, he had not mentioned that he was in the ranks. Not that Annesley Beecher would have in the least minded the information. The fact could not by possibility have touched himself; it never could have compelled him to mount guard, do duty in the trenches, eat Commis- sariat biscuit, or submit to any of the hardships soldiery inflicts ; and he'd have heard of Jack's fate with all that sublime philosophy which teaches us to bear tranquilly the calamities of others. " "Why don't you stir yourself to get him a step ?. There's nothing to be had without asking ; ay, worse than asking — begging, worrying, importuning. Get some fellow in one of the offices to tell you when there's a vacancy, and then up and at them. If they say, ' We are only waiting for an opportunity, Captain Kellett,' you reply, ' Now's your time then. Groves, of the Eorty-sixth, is gone " toes up" — Simpson, of the Bays, has cut his lucky this morning.' That's the way to go to work." " Tou are wonderful !" exclaimed Kellett, who really did all but worship the worldly wisdom of his friend. " I'd ask Lackington, but he's no use to any one. Just look at my own case." And now he launched forth into the theme he really loved and never found wearisome. His capacity for anything — every- thing, his exact fitness for fifty opposite duties, his readiness to be a sinecurist, and his actual necessity for a salary, were subjects he could be eloquent on ; devoting occasional passing remarks to Lackington's intense stupidity, who never exerted himself for him, and actually "thought him a flat." "I know you won't believe — but he does, I assure you — he thinks me a flat!" Before Kellett could fully rally from the astounding force of such an unjustifiable opinion, his guest, Conway, knocked at the door. " I say, Kellett, there comes an apology from your friend." 120 DATENPORT DTTNN. " How bo ?" asked Kellett, eagerly. " I just saw a soldier come up to the door, and the chances are it's an officer's servant with a note of excuse." The door opened as he spoke, and Conway entered the room. Kellett met him with an honest cordiality, and then, turning to Beecher, said, "My son's friend and comrade — Mr. Annesley Beecher;" and the two men bowed to each other, and exchanged glances that scarcely indicated much pleasure at the acquaintance. " "Why, he's in the ranks, Kellett," whispered Beecher, as he drew him into the window. " So is my son," said Kellett, with a gulp that half choked him. " The deuce he is — you never told me that. And is this our dinner company ?" " I was just going to explain Oh, here's Bella !" And Miss Kel- lett entered, giving such a cordial greeting to the soldier that made Beecher actually astounded. " "What's his name, Kellett ?" said Beecher, half languidly. " A good name, for the matter of that — he's called Conway." " Conway — Conway ?" repeated Beecher, aloud, " we have fortieth cousins, Conways. There was a fellow called Conway in the Twelfth Lancers that went a tremendous pace ; they nicknamed him the ' Smasher,' I don't know why. Do you ?" said he, addressing the soldier. " I've heard it was from an awkward habit he had of putting his heel on snobs." " Oh ! you know him, perhaps ?" said Beecher, affectedly. " Why, as I was the man myself, I ought, according to the old adage, to say I knew but little of him." " Tou Conway of the Twelfth ! the same that owned Brushwood and Lady Killer, that won the Eiddlesworth F" " You're calling up old memories to me," said the youth, smiling, which, after all, I'd just as Boon forget." " And you were an officer in the Lancers !" exclaimed Kellett, eagerly. " Tes ; I should have had my troop by this, if I hadn't owned those fortunate three-year-olds Mr. Beecher has just reminded me of. Like many others, whom success on the turf has misled, I went on madly, quite convinced I had fortune with me." " Ah !" said Beecher, moralising, " there's no doing a good stroke of work without the Legs. Cranley tried it, Hawchcome tried it, DAVENPOET DTJinf. 121 Ludborough tried it, but it won't do. As Grog Davis says, ' you must not ignore existing interests.' " " There's another name I haven't heard for many a year. What a scoundrel that fellow was ! I've good ground for believing that this Davis it was poisoned Sir Aubrey, the best horse I ever owned. Three men of his stamp would make racing a sport unfit for gentle- men." " Miss Kellett, will you allow me ?" said Beecher, offering his arm, and right well pleased that the announcement of dinner cut short the conversation. " A nice fellow that friend of your brother's," muttered he, as he led her along ; " but what a stupid thing to go and serve in the ranks ! It's about the last step I'd ever have thought of taking." " I'm certain of it," said Bella, with an assent so ready as to sound like flattery. • As the dinner proceeded, old Kellett's astonishment continued to increase at the deference paid by Beecher to every remark that fell from Conway. The man who had twice won "the Bexley," and all but won " the Elms ;" he who owned Sir Aubrey, and actually took the odds against all " Holt's stable," was no common celebrity. In vain was it Conway tried to lead the conversation to his friend Jack — what they had seen, and where they had been together — Beecher would bring them back to the Turf and the Boeing Calendar. There were so many dark things he wanted to know — so much of secret history he hoped to be enlightened in — and whenever, as was often the case, Conway did not and could not give him the desired informa- tion, Beecher Blyly intimated by a look towards Kellett that he was a deep fellow, while he muttered to himself, " Grog Davis would have it out of him, notwithstanding all his cunning." Bella alone wished to hear about the war. It was not alone that her interest was excited for her brother, but in the great events of that great struggle her enthusiastic spirit found ample material for admiration. Conway related many heroic achievements, not alone of British soldiers, but of French and even Bussians. Gallantry, as he said, was of no nation in particular, there were brave fellows every- where ; and he told, with all the warmth of honest admiration, how daringly the enemy dashed into the lines at night and confronted certain death, just for the sake of causing an interruption to the siege, and delaying even for a brief space the advance of the works. Told as these stories were with all the freshness which actual obser- vation confers, and in a spirit of unexaggerated simplicity, still old 122 DATENPOET ETON. Kellett heard them with the peevish jealousy of one who felt that they were destined to eclipse in their interest the old scenes of Spain and Portugal. That any soldiers lived, now-a-days like theold Light Divi- sion — that there were such fellows as the fighting Fifth, or Craw- ford's Brigade — no man should persuade him; and when he tri- umphantly, asked if they hadn't as good a general as Sir Arthur Wellesley, he fell back, laughing contemptuously at the idea of such being deemed war at all, or the expedition, as he would term it, being styled a campaign. " Bemember, Captain Kellett, we had a fair share of your old Peninsular friends amongst us^-gallant veterans, who had seen every- thing from the Douro to Bayonne,.'' " Well, and didn't: they laugh at all this ? didn't they tell you fairly it was not fighting?" " I'm not so sure they did," said Conway, laughing good-na- turedly. " Gordon told an officer in my hearing, that the charge up the heights at the Alma reminded him strongly of Harding's ascent of the hills at ALbuera." " No, no, don't say that — I can't stand it •!" cried Kellett, peevishly; " sure if it was only that one thinks they were Frenchmen — French- men, with old Soult at their head — at ALbuera— ■ — " " There's nothing braver than a [Russian, Sir, depend on't," said the youth, with a slight warmth in his tone. " Brave, if you like ; but, you see, he isn't a soldier by nature, like the Frenchman ; and yet we beat the French, thrashed him from the s^a to the Pyrenees, and over the Pyrenees into France." " "What's the odds ? You'd, not do it again 5 or, if you did, not get Map. to abdicate. I'd like to have two thousand to fifty on the double event," said Beecher, chuckling over an imaginary betting-book. "And why not do it again ?" broke in Bella. " Is it after listen- ing to what we have heard this evening that we have cause for any faint-heartedness about the spirit of our soldiery? Were Cressy or Agincourt won by braver fellows than now stand entrenched around Sebastopol ?" " I don't like it," as Grog says; " never make a heavy book on a waiting race !" " I conclude, then," said Conway, " you are one of those who augur ill of our success in the present war ?" " I'd not stake an even fifty, on either side," said Beecher, who had shrewd suspicions that it was what he'd have called a " cross," and that Todleben and Lord Raglan could make "things comfort- DATBNPOBT DUNW. 123 able" at any moment. " I See Miss Bella's of my mind," added he, as lie perceived a very peculiar smile just parting her lips. " I suspect not, Mr. Beecher j" said she, slyly. " Why did you laugh, then ?" " Shall I tell you P It was just this, then, was passing in my mind. I was wondering within myself whether the habit of reducing all men's motives to the standard of morality observable in the ' King' more often led to mistakes, or the contrary." " I sincerely trust that it rarely comes right," broke in Conway. " I was close upon four years on the Turf, as they call it-; and if I hadn't been ruined in time, I'd have ended by believing that an honest man was as great a myth as anything we read of amongst the heathen gods." " That all depends upon what you call honest," said Beecher. " To be sure it does ; you're right there," chimed in Kellett; and Beecher, thus seconded, went on : " Now, I call a fellow honest when he won't put his pal into a hole — when he'll tell him whenever he has got a good thing, and let him have his share— when he'H warn him against a dark lot, and not let him ' in' to oblige any one — that's honesty." " "Well, perhaps it is," said Conway, laughing. « The Bussians said it was mercy t'other day, when they went about shooting the wounded. There's no accounting for the way men are pleased to see things." " I'd like to have yowr definition of honesty," said Beecher, slightly piqued by the last remark. " How can you expect me to give you one ? Have I not just told you I was for more than three years on the turf, had a racing stable, and dealt with trainers and jocks ?" He paused for a second or two, and then, in a stronger voice, went on : "I cannot believe that the society of common soldiers is a very high standard by which to measure either manners or motives ; and yet I pledge my ward to it, that my comrades, in comparison with my old companions of the turf, were unexceptionable gentlemen, I mean that, in all that re- gards truthfulness, fair dealing, and honourable intercourse, it would be insult to compare them." " Ah, you see," said Beecher, " you got it ' all hot,' as they say* You're not an unprejudiced juryman. They gave you a bucketing — I heard all about it. If Corporal Trim hadn't been doctored, you'd have won twelve thousand at Lancaster." Conway smiled good-humouredly atlshe explanation thus suggested, but said nothing. 124 DAVENPOBT DUNN. " Bother it for racing," said Kellett. " I never knew any real taste for horses or riding where there was races. Instead of caring for a fine, showy beast, a little thick in the shotdder, square in the joints, and strong in the haunch, they run upon things like greyhounds, all drawn up behind and low before ; it's a downright misery to mount one of them." " But it's a real pleasure to see him come in first, when your book tells you seven to one in your favour. Talk of sensations," said he, enthusiastically ; " where is there the equal of that you feel when the orange and blue you have backed with a heavy pot comes pelting round the corner, followed by two — then three — all punishing, your own fellow holding on beautifully, with one eye a little thrown backward to see what's coming, and that quiet, calm look about the mouth that says, ' I have it.' Every note of the wild cheer that greets the winner is applause to your own heart — that deafening yell is your own song of triumph." " Listen [to him ! — that's his hobby," cried Kellett, whose eyes glistened with excitement at the description, and who really felt an honest, admiration for the describer. " Ah, Beecher, my boy ! — you're at home there." " If they'd' only give me a chance, Paul — one chance !" Whether it was that the expression was new and strange to him, or that the energy of the speaker astonished him, but Conway cer- tainly turned his eyes towards him in some surprise ; a sentiment which Beecher at once interpreting as interest, went on : " You" said he — "you had many a chance ; J never had one. Tou might have let them all in, you might have landed them all — so they tell me, at least — if you'd have withdrawn Eyetooth. He was own brother to Aurelius, and sure to win. "Well, if you'd have withdrawn him for the Bexley, you'd have netted fifty thousand. Grog — I mean a fellow ' well up' among the Legs — told me so." " Your informant never added what every gentleman in England would have said of me next day," said Conway. " It would have been neither more nor less than a swindle. The horse was in perfect health and top condition — why should I not have run him ?" " For no other reason that I know, except that you'd have been richer by fifty thousand for not doing it." " "Well," said Conway, quietly, " it's not a very pleasant thing to be crippled in this fashion ; but I'd rather lose the other arm than do what you speak of. And, if I didn't know that many gentlemen get a loose way of talking of fifty things they'd never seriously think if*T' DAVENPOBT DUNN. 125 of doing, I'd rather feel disposed to be offended at what you have just said." " Offended ! of course not — I never dreamed of anything offensive. I only meant to say that they call me a flat ; ' but hang me if I'd have let them off as cheaply as you did." " Then, they're at perfect liberty to call me a flat also," said Con- way, laughing. " Indeed, I suspect I have given them ample reason to think me one." , The look of compassionate pity Beecher bestowed on him as he ut- tered these words was as honest as anything in his nature could be. It was in vain Bella tried to get back the conversation to the events of the campaign, to the scenes wherein poor Jack was an actor. Beecher's perverse activity held them chained to incidents which, to him, embraced all that was worth living for. " Tou must have had some capital things in your time, though. Tou had some race-horses, and were well in with Tom Nolan's set," said he to Conway. " Shall I tell you the best match I ever had — at least, the one gave me most pleasure ?" "Do, by all means," said Beecher, eagerly, "though I guess it already. It was against Tickersley, even for ten thousand, at York." " No," said the other, smiling. " Well; then, it was the Cotswold— four miles in two heats. Tou won it. with a sister to Ladybird." " Nor that either ; though by these reminiscences you show me how accurately you have followed my humble fortunes." "There's not a man has done anything on the turf for fifty years I can't give you his history ; not a horse I won't tell you all his per- formances, just as if you were reading it out of the Boeing Calendar. As Sell's Life said t'other day, ' If Annesley Beecher can't answer that question' — and itjwas about Butming Eein — ' no man in England can.' I'm 'The Fellow round the Corner' that you always see alluded to in Bell." " Indeed!" exclaimed Conway, with assumed deference. "That I am — Kellett knows it. Ask old Paul there— ask Grog — ask any one you like, whether A. B, is up to a thing or two. But we're forgetting this match — the best thing you said you ever had." " I'm not so sure you'll be of my mind when you hear it," said Conway, smiling. " It was a race we had t'other day in the Crimea — a steeplechase, over rather a stiff course, with Spanish ponies ; and I rode against Lord Broodale, Sir Harry Curtis, and Captain Marsden, and won five pounds and a dozen of champagne. My com- 126 BAVENPOET DTTOTT. rades betted something like fifty shiUings on the match, and there would have been a general bankruptcy in the company if I had lost. Poor Jack mortgaged- his watch and a pilot-coat that h& was exces- sively proud of — it was theonly bit of imufti in the- battalion, I think ; but he came off all right, and treated na all to a supper with his winnings, which, if I don'i mistake^ didn't pay more than half the bill." " Good luck to him, and here's his health," cried EeHett, whose heart, though proof against aH ordinary appeals to affection, could not withstand this assault of utter recklessness and improvidence. He l s my own flesh and blood, there's no denying it.'" If Conway was astounded at this singular burst of paternal affec- tion, he did not the less try to profit by it, and at once began ta re- count the achievements of his comrade, Jack EeHett. The old man listened half doggedly at first, but gradually, as the affeetion of others for Ms son was spoken oS, he vefassd, and heard, with an emotion he could not easily repress, how Jack was beloved by the whole regiment — that to be his companion in ontpost duty, to be stationed with him in a battery, was a matter of envy. a I won't say,"" said Conway, "that every corps and every company has not fellows brave as he ; but show me one who'll carry a lighter spirit into danger, and as soft a heart amid scenes of cruelty and bloodshed. So that if you\sked who in our battalion is the pluckiest — who the most tender-hearted 1 — who the most generous— aw! who the least given to envy? yoa'd have the one answer — 'Jack EeHett,' without a doubt." "And what will it all do for him ? w broke in the old man, resort- ing onee more to his discontent. "What will it do for him? What has it done for Mm? ft it nothing that in a straggle history will make famous a man's name is a household word? 1 That in a war, where deeds of daring are so rife, his outnumbers those of any other? It's but a few weeks baek a Sardinian staff-officer, coming to our head-quarters on business, asked if the celebrated 'Bersagliere' was there — so they call riflemen — and desired to see him ; and, better than that, though he didn't know Jack's name, none- doubted who was meant, but Jack EeHett was sent for on the instant. Now, that I caH fame." " "WiU it get him his commission ?'' said Beecher, knowingly, as though by one shrewd stroke of intelligence he had embraced the entire question. " A commission can be had for foin* hundred and fifty pounds, and some man in Pariiament to ask for it. But what Jack has done DAVENPOBT DTO1T. 127 cannot' be bought by mere money. Do you go out there, Mr. Beecher, just go and see for yourself — it's well worth the while — what stuff fellows are made of that face danger every day and night", without one thought above duty — never expecting — never dreaming that anything they do is to have its personal benefit, and would far rather have their health drunk by their comrades than be quoted in the Times. You'll find your old regiment there— you were in the Fusilier Guards, weren't you ?'" "Yes, I tried soldiering, but didn't like it," said Beecher; " and it was better in my day than now, they tell me." A movement of impatience on Conway's part was suddenly inter- rupted by Kellett saying, "He means that the service isn't what it was j and indeed he's right there. I remember the time there wasn't a man in the Eighty-fifth couldnt carry away three bottles of Ben- net's strong port, and play as good a rubber, afterwards, as Hoyle himself." " It's the snobbery I was thinking of," said Beecher ; " fellows go into the army now who ought to be counter-jumping." "I don't know what they ought to be doing," broke in Conway, angrily, " but I could tell you something of what they are doing ; and where you are to find men to do it better, I'm not so clear. I said a few moments back, you ought to go out to the Crimea, but I beg to correct myself — it is exactly what you ought not to do." " Never fear, old fellow ; I never dreamed of it. Give you any odds you like, you'll never see my arrival quoted at Balaklava." " A thousand pardons, Miss Kellett," whispered Conway, as he arose; "but you see how little habit I have of good company ; I'm quite ashamed of my warmth. May I venture to come and pay you a morning visit before I go back ?" " Oh, by all means ; but why not an evening one ? You are more certain to find us." "Then an evening one, if you'll allow m©;'* and shaking Kellett's hand warmly, and- with a cold bow to Beeeher, he withdrew. " "Wasnt he a fiat !" eried Beecher, as the door closed after him. "The Smasher — that was the name he went by — went through an estate of sis thousand a year, clean and clear, in less than four years, and there he is now, a private soldier with one arm V " Faith, I like him ; he's a fine fellow," said Kellett, heartily. " Ask Grog Davis if he'd call him a fine fellow," broke in Beecher, sneeringly ; " there's not such a spoon from this to Newmarket. Oh, Paul, my hearty, if I had but one, just one of the dozen chances he has thrown away ! But, as Grog says, ' a crowbar won't make a 128 DAVENPOET DUSTS. cracksman ;' nor will a good stable of horses, and safe jocks, ' bring a fellow round,' if he hasn't it here." And he touched his forehead with his forefinger most significantly. Meanwhile Charles Conway sauntered'slqwly back to town, on the whole somewhat a sadder man than he had left it in the morning. His friend Jack had spoken much to him of his father and sister, and why, or to what extent, he knew not, but, somehow, they did not respond to his own self-drawn picture of them. Was it that he ex- pected old Kellett would have been a racier version of his son — the same dashing, energetic spirit — seeing all for the best in life, and accepting even its reverses in a half jocular humour P had he hoped to find in him Jack's careless, easy temper — a nature so brimful of content as to make all around sharers in its own blessings ? or had he fancied a " fine old Irish gentleman" of that thorough-bred school he had so often heard of? '"" Nor was he less disappointed with Bella ; he thought she had been handsomer, or, at least, quite a different kind of beauty. Jack was blue-eyed and Saxon-looking, and he fancied that she must be a " blonde," with the same frank, cheery expression of her brother ; and he found her dark-haired and dark-skinned, almost Spanish in her look— the cast of her features grave almost to sadness. She spoke, too, but little, and never once reminded him, by a tone, a ges- ture, or a word, of his old comrade. Ah ! how these self-created portraits do puzzle and disconcert us through life ! How they will obtrude themselves into the foreground, making the real and the actual but mere shadows in the distance. What seeming contradiction, too, do they create as often as we come into contact with the true and find it all so widely the reverse of what we dreamed of ! How often has the weary emigrant sighed over his own created promised land in the midst of the silent forest or the desolate prairie ! How has the poor health-seeker sunk heavy-hearted amid scenes which, had he not misconstrued them to himself, he had deemed a paradise ! These " Phrenographs" are very dangerous paintings, and the more so that we sketch them in unconsciously. " Jack is the best of them, that's clear," said Conway, as he walked along ; and yet, with all his affection for him, the thought did not bring the pleasure it ought to have done. DAVENPOET DTJNN. 129 CHAPTEE XV. A HOME SCENE. "When Paul Eellett described Mr. Davenport Dunn's almost triumphal entry into Dublin, he doubtless fancied in his mind the splendours that awaited him at home ; the troops of servants in smart liveries, the homage of his household, and the costly entertain- ment which most certainly should celebrate his arrival. Public rumour had given to the hospitalities of that house a wide-extended fame. The fashionable fishmonger of the capital, his Excellency's " purveyor " of game, the celebrated Italian warehouse, all proclaimed him their best customer. " Can't let you have that turbot, Sir, till I hear from Mr. Dunn." " Only two pheasants to be had, Sir, and ordered for Mr. Dunn." "The white truffles only taken by one gentleman in town. None but Mr. Dunn would pay the price." The culinary traditions of his establishment threw the Castle into the background, and Eellett revelled in the notion of the great festivity that now welcomed his return. " Lords and Earls— the biggest salmon in the market — the first men of the land — and lobster sauce — ancient names and good families — with grouse, and ' Sneyd's Twenty-one ' — that's what you may call life ! It is wonderful, wonderful !" Now, when Paul enunciated the word " wonderful " in this sense, he meant it to imply that it was shameful, distressing, and very melancholy for the prospects of humanity generally. And then he amused himself by speculating whether Dunn liked it all — whether the unaccustomed elegance of these great dinners did not distress and pain him rather than give pleasure, and whether the very consciousness of his own low origin wasn't a poison that mingled in every cup he tasted. " It's no use talking," muttered he to himself; " a man must be bred to it, like everything else. The very servants behind his chair frighten him ; he's, maybe, eating with his knife, or he's putting salt where he ought to put sugar, or he doesn't take the right kind of wine with his meat. Beecher says he'd know any fellow just by that, and then it's • all up ' with him. 'Wonderful, wonderful !" How would it have affected these speculations had Eellett known that, while he was indulging them, Dunn had quietly issued by a back door from his house, and, having engaged a car, set out towards Clontarf ? A drearier drive of a dreary evening none need wish for. 130 JDATENPOET DTOTBT. Occasional showers were borne on the gusty wind, swooping past as though hurrying to some elemental congress far away, while along the shore the waves beat with that irregular plash that betokens wild weather at sea. The fitful moonlight rather heightened than diminished the dismal aspect of the scenery.' I'or miles the bleak strand stretched away, no headland nor even a hillock marking the coast ; the spectral gable of a ruined church being the only object visible against the leaden sky. Little garlands of jtaper, the poor tributes of • the very poor, decorated the graves and the head-stones, and, as they rustled in the night -wind, sounded like : ghostly whisperings. , The driver piously crossed, himself- as they passed the "uncanriie"- spot, but Dunn took no heed pf-ifr : To .wrap his cloak tighter,; about, him, to shelter more closely beneath his umbrella, were all that the dreary scene exaGfcedjrpm him ; and except when a vivid flash of. lightning made, the horse swervefromihe road and dash down into-the rough shingle of the strand,, he never adverted to the wayor the weather. ; -." What's this— where are we going ?" cried he, impatiently."- .1 "'Tis the flash that frightened the beast,, yer honner," said the man j " and, if it was plazin' to you, I'd rather turn back again,"- ',' Turn back— where tp ?" " To town, yer honner." "Nothing of the kind; drive on, and quickly too. "We have five miles yet before us, and it will be midnight ere we get over them at this rate." ., .,.,-., Sulkily and unwillingly did he obey ;■ and, turning from the shore, they entered upon a low, sandy, road that traversed a wide Mid dreary tract, barely elesrated a few 'feet above the sea. By. degrees the little patches of grass and fern disappeared, and nothing stretched on, either '.side, hut low sand hummocks, scantily, covered with rushes. Sea-shells crackled beneath the wheels as they went,.and after awhile the deep' booming of the -.sea, thundering heavily along a sandy shore, apprised them that they had crossed the narrow neck of land which divided two bays. s , ".Are you , quite certain, you've taken, the right road, my man?" cried Dunn, as he observed something like hesitation in the other's manner. , ■ ■ , '< It ought to be somewhere hereabout we turn off," said the man, getting down to examine more accurately frpm beneath. " There was a little cross put up to show the way, but I don't see it." "But you have been here before. Tou told me you knew the place." . 1 " I was here onst, and, by the same token, I swore I'd never come ^ $ ^ ^ \i BAVENPOET DOTS'. 131 again. I lamed the best mare I ever put a collar on, dragging through this deep sand. Wirra, whra ! why the blazes wouldn't he live where other Christians do ! There it is now ; I see a light. Ah ! bother them, it's out again." Pushing forward as well as he might in the direction he had seen the light, he floundered heavily on, the wheels sinking nearly to the axles, and the horse stumbling at every step. " Tour horse is worth nothing, my good fellow ; he hasn't strength to keep his legs," said Dunn, angrily. " Good or bad, I'll /give you lave to broil me on a gridiron if ever ye catch me coming the same road again. Ould Dunn won't have much company if he waits for me to bring them." " I'll take good care not to tempt you !" said Dunn, angrily. And now they plodded on in moody silence till they issued forth upon a little flat space, bounded on three sides by the sea, in the midst of which a small two-storied house stood, defended from the sea by a rough stone breakwater that rose above the lower windows. " There it is now, bad luck to it !" said the carman, savagely, for his horse was so completely exhausted that he was obliged to walk at his head and lift him at every step. " Tou may remain here till I want you," said Dunn, getting down and plodding his way through the heavy sand. Makes of frothy sea- drift swept past him as he -went, and the wild wind carried the spray far inland in heavy showers, beating against the walla and windows of the lonely house, and making the slates rattle. A low wall of large stones across the door showed that all entrance by that means was denied ; and Dunn turned towards the back of the house, where, sheltered by the low wall, a small door was detectable. He knocked several times at this before any answer was returned. When, at last, a harsh voice from within called out, " Don't ye hear who it is ? confound ye ! Open the door at once ;" and Dunn was admitted into a large kitchen, where in a great straw chair beside the fire was seated the remains of a once powerful man, and who, although nearly ninety years of age, stiE preserved a keen eye, a searching look, and a quick impatience of manner rarely ob- servable at his age. " "Well, father, how are you ?" said Dunn, taking him affectionately by both hands, and looking kindly in his face. " Hearty — stout and hearty," said the old man. " When did you arrive ?" " A couple of hours ago. I did not wait for anything but a biscuit k2 132 DATENPOET DOTS. and a glass of wine, when I set out here to see you. And you are well?" " Just as you.see : an odd pain or so across the back, and a swim- ming of the head — a kind of giddiness now and then, that's all. Put the light over there till I hare a look at you. You're thinner, Davy, a deal thinner, than when you went away." " I have nothing the matter with me ; a little tired or so, that's all," said Dunn, hastily. "And how are things doing here, father, since I left?" " There's little to speak of," said the old man. " There never is much doing at this season of the year. Tou heard, of course, that Gogarty has lost his suit ; they're moving for a new trial, but they won't get it. Lanty Moore can't pay up the rest of the purchase for Slanestown, and I told Hankes to buy it in. Kelly's murderer was taken on [Friday last, near Kilbride, and offers to tell,, God knows what, if they won't . hang him ; and Sir Gilbert North is to be the new Secretary, if, as the 'Evening Mail says, Mr. Davenport Dunn concurs in the appointment" — and here the old man laughed till his eyes ran over. " That's all the news, Davy, of the last week ; and now tell me yours. The papers said you were dining with kings and queens, and driving about in royal coaches all over the Continent — was it true, Davy ?" " Tou got my letters, of course, father ?" " Tes ; and I couldn't make out the names, they were all new and strange to me. I want to have from yourself what like the people are — are they as hard-working, are they as 'cute as our own ? There's just two things now in the world, coal and industry, sorra more than that. And so you dined with the King of France ?" "With the Emperor,, father. I dined twice; he took me over to Eontainebleau and made me stay the day." "You could tell him many a thing, he'd never hear from another, Davy ; you could explain to him what's doing here, and how he might imitate it over there — rooting out the old vermin and getting new stock in the land— eh, Davy ?" " He needs no counsels, at least from such as me," said Dunn. " Faith, he might have worse, far worse. An Encumbered Estate Court would do all his work for him well, and the dirty word ' Confis- cation' need never be uttered!" "He knows the road he wants to go," said Dunn, curtly. " So he may, but that doesn't prove it's the best way." " "Whichever path he takes he'll tread it firmly, father, and that's DAVENPOET DTTlfir. 133 more than half the battle. If you only saw what a city he has made Paris " " That's just what I don't like. What's the good of beautifying, and gilding, or ornamenting what you're going to riddle with grape and smash with round shot ? It's like dressing a sweep in a field- marshal's uniform. And we all know where it will be to-morrow or next day." "That we don't, Sir. You're not aware that these spacious thoroughfares, these wide squares, these extended terraces, are so con- trived that columns may march and manoeuvre in them, squadrons charge, and great artillery act through them. The proudest temples of that splendid city serve as bastions,— the great Louvre itself is less a palace than a fortress." "Ay, ay, ay," cackled the old man, to whom these revelations opened a new vista for thought. "But what's the use of it after all, Davy ; he must trust somebody, and when it comes to that with any- body in life, where's his security, tell me that ?,' But let us talk about home. Is it true the Ministry is going out ?" "They're safer than ever; take my word for it, father, that these fellows know the trick of it better than all that went before them. They'll just do whatever the nation and the Times dictate to them — a little slower, mayhap, than they are ordered, but they'll do it. They have no embarrassments of a policy of any kind, and the only pretence of a principle they possess is, to Bit on the Treasury benches." " And they're right, Davy — they're right," said the old man, ener- getically. " I don't doubt but they are, Sir ; the duty of the pilot is to take charge of the ship, but not to decide the port she sails for." " I wish you were one of them, Davy ; they'd suit you, and you'd suit them." " So we should, Sir ; and who knows what may turn up ? I'm not impatient." " That's right, Davy ; that's the lesson I always taught you ; wait — wait!" "When did you see Driscoll, father ?" asked Dunn, after a pause. " He was here last week ; he's up to his ears about that claim to the Beecher estate, Lord — Lord What's his name ?" " Lackington." " Yes, Lord Lackington. He says if you were once come home, you'd get him leave to search the papers in the Becord Tower, at the 134 DAVBNPOKT DUNS'. Castle, and that it would be the making of himself if anything came out of it." "He's always mare's nesting, Sir," said Dunn, carelessly. " Faith, he has contrived to feather his own nest, anyhow," said the old man, laughing. " He lent Lord Glengariff fire thousand pounds t'other day at sis per cent., and on as good security as the Bank." " Does he pretend to have discovered anything new with respect to that claim ?' " He says there's just enough to frighten them, and that yow help — the two of ye together — could work it well." " He has not, then, found out the claimant ?" "He has his name, and the regiment he's in, but that's all. He was talking of writing to him." " If he's wise, he'll let it alone. What chance would a poor soldier in the ranks have against a great lord, if he had all the right in the world on his side ?" " So I told him ; but he said we could make a fine thing out of it for all that ; and somehow, Davy, he's mighty seldom mistaken." " If he be, Sir, it is because he has hitherto only meddled with what lay within his power. He can scheme and plot and track out a clue in the little world he has lived in, but let him be careful how he ven- ture upon that wider ocean of life where his craft would be only a cockboat." " He hasn't yowr stuff in him, Davy," cried the old man, in ecstasy ; and a very slight flush rose to the other's cheek at the words, but whether of pride, or shame, or pleasure, it were hard to say. " I have nothing to offer you, Davy, except a cut of cold pork ; could you eat it f" said the old man. " I'm not hungry, father ; I'm tired somewhat, but not hungry." " I'm tired, too," said the old man, sighing ; " but, to be sure, it's time for me — I'll be eighty-nine if I live till the fourth of next month. That's a long life, Davy." " And it has been an active one, Sir." " I've seen great changes in my time, Davy," continued he, follow- ing out his own thoughts. " I was in the Volunteers when we bullied the English, and they've paid us off for it since, that they have ! I was one of the Jury when Jackson died in the dock, and if he was alive now, maybe it's a Lord of the Treasury he'd be. Every- thing is changed, and everybody too. Do you remember Kellett, of Kellett's Court, that used to drive on the Circular-road with six horses f " Dunn nodded an assent. DAYESTOBT DTJNN. 135 " His liveries were light-blue and silver, and Lord Castletown's was the same ; and Kellett says to him one day, ' My Lord,' says he, 1 we're always mistaken for each other, couldn't we hit on a way to prevent it?' 'I'm willing,' says my Lord, 'if I only knew how.' ' Then I'll tell you,' says Kellett ; ' make your people follow your own example and turn their coats, that'll do it,' says he." And the old man laughed till hk eyes swam. " "What's become of them Kelletts ?" added he, sharply. "Euined — sold out." " To be sure, I remember all about it ; and the young fellow — Paul was his name — where' s he ?" "He's not so very young now," said Dunn, smiling; "he has a clerkship in the Customs ; a poor place it is." " I'm, glad of it," said he, fiercely ; " there was an old score be- tween us — that's his father and me — and I knew I wouldn't die till it was settled." " These are not kindly feelings, father," said Dunn, mildly. "No; but they're natural ones, and that's as good," said the old man, with an energy that seemed to defy his age. " Where would I be now — where would you, if it was only kindness we thought of ? There wasn't a man in all Ireland I wanted to be quits with so much as old Kellett of Kellett's Court ; and you'd not wonder if you knew why; but I won't tell." Davenport Dunn's cheek grew crimson and then deadly pale, but he never uttered a word. "And what's more," continued the old manj energetically, "I'd pay the debt off to his children and his children's children with inte- rest, if I could." Still was the other silent ; and the old man looked angry that he had not succeeded in stimulating the curiosity he had declared he would not gratify. " Pate has done the work already, Sir," said Dunn, gravely. " Look where we are and where ihey !" " That's true — that's true ; we have a receipt in full for it all ; but I'd like to show it to him ; I'd like to say to him, ' Mr. Kellett, once upon a time, when my son there was a child ' " " Father, father, these memories can neither make us wiser nor happier," broke in Dunn, in a voice of deep emotion. " Had I taken upon me to carry through life the burden of resentments, my back had been broken long ago, and from your own prudent counsels I learned that this could never lead to success. The men whom des- 136 DATESTOBT DVTSX. tiny has crushed are like bankrupt debtors, and to pursue them is but to squander your own resources." . The old man sat moodily, -muttering indistinctly to himself, and evidently little moved by tbe words he had listened to. " Are you going away already ?" cried he, suddenly, as Dunn rose from his chair. "Yes, Sir; I have a busy day before, me to-morrow, and need some sleep to prepare for it." " What will you be doing to-morrow, Davy ?" asked the old man, while a bright gleam of pride lighted up his eyes and illuminated his whole face. ' " I have deputations to receive— Jialf a dozen at least. The Drain- age Commission, too, will want me, and I must contrive to have half an hour for the Inland Navigation people ; then the Attorney-Gene- ral will -call about these prosecutions, and I have not made up my mind about them ; and the Castle folk will need some clue to my intentions about the new Secretary ; there are some twenty pro- vincialeditors, besides, waiting for directions, not to speak of private and personal requests, some of which I must not refuse to hear. As to letters, three days won't get through them ; so that you see, father, I do need a little rest beforehand." " God bless you, my boy— God bless you, Davy," cried the old man, tenderly, grasping his hand in both his own. " Keep the head clear and trust nobody — that's the secret, trust nobody — the only mistakes I ever made in life was when I forgot that rule." And affectionately kissing him, the father dismissed his son, muttering blessings on him as he went. BAVENPOET DTTNtf. 137 CHAPTEE XVI. DAVIS VERSUS DB.NN. Davenport Dtjnn had not exaggerated when he spoke of a busy day for the morrow. As early as eight o'clock was he at breakfast, and before nine the long back parlour, with its deep bay-window, was crowded like the waiting-room of a fashionable physician. Indeed, in the faces of anxiety, eagerness, and impatience of those assembled there, there was a resemblance. With a tact which natural shrewd- ness and long habit could alone confer, Mr. Clowes, the butler, knew exactly where each arrival should be introduced ; and while Eailway Directors, Bank Governors, and great Contractors indiscriminately crowded the large dining-room, Peers and Eight Honourables filled the front drawing-room, the back one being reserved for Law Officers of the Crown, and such secret emissaries as came on special mission from the Castle. Prom the hall, crammed with frieze-coated country folk, to the little conservatory on the stairs, where a few ladies were grouped, every space was occupied. Either from previous acquaint- ance, or guided by the name of the visitor, Mr. Clowes had little difficulty in assigning him his fitting place, dropping, as he accom- panied him, some few words, as the rank and station of the individual might warrant his addressing to him. " I'll let Mr. Dunn know your Lordship is here this instant, he is now just engaged with the Chief Baron. — He'll see you, Sir Samuel, next. — Mr. Wilcox, you have no chance for two hours, the Poyle deputation is just gone in. — Tou need scarcely wait to-day, Mr. Tobin^ there are eighteen before you. — Colonel Craddock, you are to come on Saturday, and bring the plans with you. — Too late, Mr. Dean ; his Grace the Archbishop waited till a quarter to eleven, the appointment is now for to-morrow at one. — No use in staying, my honest fellow, your own landlord couldn't see Mr. Dunn to-day." In the midst of such brief phrases as these, while he scattered hopes and disappointments about him, he suddenly paused to read a card, stealing a quick glance at the indi- vidual who presented it. " ' Mr. Annesley Beecher.' By appoint- ment, Sir ?" " Well, I suppose I might say yes," muttered the visitor, while he turned to a short and very overdressed person at his side for counsel in the difficulty. 138 DAVENPOBT DtrBTN. "To be sure — by appointment," said the other, confidently, while he bestowed on the butler a look of unmistakable defiance. "And this — gentleman — is with you, Sir?" asked the butler, pausing ere he pronounced the designation. " Might I request to have his name ?" " Captain Davis," said the short man, interposing. " Write it under your own, Beecher." While Mr. Annealey Beecher was thusflceupied, and, sooth to say, it was an office he did not discharge with much despatch, Clowes had ample time to scan the appearance and style of the strangers. "If you'll step this way, Sir," said Clowes, addressing Beecher only, '' I'll send in your card at once." And he ushered them as he spoke into the thronged dinner-room, whose crowded company sat silent and moody, each man regarding his neighbour with a kind of reproachful expression, as though the especial cause of the long delay he was undergoing. "You ought 'to tip' that fiunkey, Beecher," said Davis, as soon as they were alone in a window. " Haven't the tin, Master Grog!" said the other, laughing ; while he added, in a lower voice, " do you know, Grog, I don't feel quite comfortable, here. Bather mixed company, ain't it, for a fellow who only goes out of a Sunday ?" "All safe," muttered Davis. "These are all bank directors, or railway swells. I wish we had the robbing of them !" " Good deal of humbug about all this, ain't there ?" whispered Beecher, as he threw his eyes over the crowded room. " Of course there is," replied the other. " While he's keeping us all kicking our shina here, he's reading the Times, or gossiping with a friend, or weighing a double letter for the post. It was the dentists took up the dodge first, and the nobs followed them." " I'm not going to stand it much longer, Grog. I tell you I don't feel comfortable." " Stuff and nonsense. You don't fancy any of these chaps has a writ iu his pocket, do you ? Why, I can tell you every man in the room. That little fellow, with the punch-coloured shorts, is Chair- man of the Boyal Canal Company. I know him, and he knows me. He had me ' up' about a roulette-table on board of one of the boats, and if it hadn't been for a trifling incident that occurred to his wife at Boulogne, where she went for the bathing, and which I broke to him in confidence • But stay, he's coming over to speak to me." " How d'ye do, Captain Davis ?" said the stranger, with the air of DAVEITPOBT 3VST3. 139 a man resolved to brave a difficulty, while he threw into the manner a tone of haughty patronage. " Pretty bobbish, Mr. Hailea ; and ym, the same I hope." " Well, thank you. You never paid me that little visit you pro- mised at Leixlip." " I've been so busy of late ; up to my ears, as they say. Going to start a new company, and thinking of asking your assistance, too." " What's the nature of it ?." " Well, it's a kind of a mutual self-securing sort of thing against iamily accidents. Tou understand — a species of universal guarantee to ensure domestic peace and felicity — a thing that will come home to us all, and I only want a few good names in the direction, to give the shares a push." Beecher looked imploringly, to try and restrain him; but he went on : " May I take the liberty to put you down on the committee of management ?" Before any answer could come to this speech, Mr. Clowes called out, in a deep voice, " Mr. Annesley Beecher and Captain Davis ;" and flung wide the door for them to pass out. "Why did you Bay that to him, Grog?" whispered Beecher, as they moved along. " Just because I was watching the way he looked at me. He had a hardy, bold expression on his face that showed he needed a re- minder, and so I gave him one. Always have the first blow when you see a fellow means to strike you." Mr. Davenport Dunn rose as the visitors entered the room, and having motioned to them to be seated, took his place with his back to the fire, a significant intimation that he did not anticipate a lengthy interview. Whether it was that he had not previously settled in his own mind how to open the object of his visit, or that something in Dunn's manner and appearance, unlike what he anticipated, had changed his intention, but certain is it that Beecher felt confused and embarrassed, and when reminded by Dunn's saying, " I'm at your service, Sir," he turned a most imploring look towards Davis to come to his rescue. The Captain, however, with more tact, paid no atten- tion to the appeal, and Beecher, with an immense effort, stammered out, " I have taken the liberty to call on you. I have come here to- day in consequence of a letter — that is, my brother, Lord Lacking- ton You know my brother ?" 140 BAVENPOET ETON. " I have that honour, Sir." " Well, in writing to me a few days back, he added a hurried post- script, saying he had just seen you ; that you were then starting for Ireland, where, on your arrival, it would be well I should wait upon you at once." "Did his Lordship mention with what object, Sir?" " I can't exactly say that he did. He said something about your being his man of business, thoroughly acquainted with all his affairs, and so, of course, I expected — I believed, at least — that you might be able to lead the way — to show me the line of country, as one might call it," added he, with a desperate attempt to regain his ease, by recurring to his favourite phraseology. " Really, Sir, my engagements are so numerous, that I have to throw myself on the kindness of those who favour me with a call to explain the object of their visit." '. "I haven't got Lackington's letter about me, but if I remember aright, all he said was, ' See Dunn as soon as you can, and he'll put you up to a thing or two,' or words to that effect." " I regret deeply, Sir, that the expressions give me no clue to the matter in hand." "If this ain't fencing, my name isn't Davis," said Grog, breaking in. " Tou know well, without any going about the bush, what he comes about ; and all this skirmishing is only to see if he's as well ' up' as yourself in his own business. Now then, no more chaff, but go in at once." "May I ask who is this gentleman ?" " A friend — a very particular friend of mine," said Beecher, quickly. " Captain Davis." • " Captain Davis," repeated Dunn, in a half voice to himself, as if to assist his memory to some effort — " Captain Davis." "Just so," said Grog, defiantly—" Captain Davis." " Does his Lordship's letter mention I should have the honour of a call from Captain Davis, Sir?" "No ; but as he's my own intimate friend — a gentleman who pos- sesses all my confidence — I thought, indeed I felt, the importance of having his advice upon any questions that might arise in this in- terview." " I'm afraid, Sir, you have subjected your friend to a most un- profitable inconvenience." " The match postponed till future notice," whispered Grog. " I beg pardon, Sir," said Dunn, not overhearing the remark. " I was a saying that no race would come off to-day, in conse- DAVENPOBT DUNN. 141 quence of the inclemency of the weather," said Grog, as he adjusted his shirt collar. "Am I to conclude, then," said Beecher, "that you have not any communication to make to me ?" "No you ain't," broke in Grog, quickly. "He don't like me, that's all, and he hasn't the manliness to say it." " On the contrary, Sir, I feel all the advantage of your presence on this occasion — all the benefit of that straightforward manner of putting the question, which saves us so much valuable time." Grog bowed an acknowledgment of the compliment, but with a grin on his face, that showed in what spirit he accepted it. " Lord Lackington did not speak to you about my allowance ?" asked Beecher, losing all patience. " No, Sir, not a word." " He did not allude to a notion — he did not mention a plan— he did not discuss people called O'Eeilly, did he ?" asked he, growing more and more confused and embarrassed. " Not a syllable, with reference to such a name, escaped him, Sir." " Don't you see," said Grog, rising, "that you'll have to look for the explanation to the second column of the Times, where ' A. B. will hear something to his advantage, if he calls without C. D.' " Davenport Dunn paid no attention to this remark, but stood calmly impassive before them. " It comes to this, then, that Lackington has been hoaxing me," said Beecher, rising, with an expression of ill temper on his face. " I should rather suggest another possibility," said Dunn, politely ; " that, knowing how far his Lordship has graciously reposed his own confidence in me, he has generously extended to me the chance of obtaining the same position of trust on the part of his brother — an honour I am most ambitious to attain. If you are disengaged on Sunday next," added he, in a low voice, " and would favour me with your company at dinner, alone — quite alone " Beecher bowed an assent in silence, casting a cautious glance to- wards Davis, who was scanning the contents of the morning paper. "Till then," muttered Dunn, while he added, aloud, "A good morning ;" and bowed them both to the door. ""Well, you are a soft 'un, there's no denying it," said Davis, as they gained the street. " What d'ye mean?" cried Beecher, angrily. " Why don't you see how you spoiled all ? I'd have had the whole story out of him, but you wouldn't give me time to ' work the oracle.' He only wanted to show us how cunning he was — that he was deep, 142 DAVENPOBT DUNN. and all that ; and when he saw that we were all wonder and amaze- ment about his shrewdness, then, he'd have gone to business." " Not a bit of it, Master Grog ; that fellow's wide awake, I tell you." " So much the worse for you then, that's all." " Why so ?" " Because you're a going to dine with him on Sunday next, all alone. I heard it, though you didn't think I was listening, and I saw thd look that passed, too, as much as to say,. ' "We'll not hare that fellow ;' and that's the reason I say, ' So much the worse for you.' " " "Why, what can he do, with all his craft ? He can't make me put my name to paper ; and if he did, much good would it do him." " You can't make running against the like of him," said Grog, contemptuously. " He has an eye in his head like a dog-fox. Pbw've no chance with him. He couldn't double on me — he'd not try it ; but he'll play you like a trout in a fishpond." " What if I send him an excuse, then — shall I do that ?" " No. Tou must go, if it was only to show that you suspect nothing ; but keep your eyes open ; watch the ropes, and come over to me when the ' heat is run.' " And with this counsel they parted. CHAPTEE XVII. . THE "PENSIONNAT GODAKDE." Let us ask our reader to turn for a brief space from these scenes and these actors, and accompany us to that rich plain which stretches to the north-west of Brussels, and where, on the slope of the gentle hill, beneath the Boyal Palace of Lacken, stands a most picturesque old house, known as the Chateau of the Three Fountains. The very type of a chateau of the Low Countries, from its gabled fronts, all covered with festooned rhododendron, to its trim gardens, peopled with leaden deities, and ornamented by the three fountains to which it owes its name, nothing was wanting. Prom the plump little figure who blew his trumpet on the weather-vane, to the gaudily gilded pleasure-boat that peeped from amidst the tall water-lilies of the fishpond, all proclaimed the peculiar taste of a people who loved to DAVBNPOET DOTS. 143 make nature artificial, and see the instincts of their own quaint natures reproduced in every copse and hedgerow around them. All the little queer contrivances of Dutch ingenuity were there — mock shrubs, which blossomed as you touched a spring ; jets, that spurted out as you trod on a certain spot ; wooden figures, worked by mechanism, lowered the drawbridge to let you pass ; nor was the toll- keeper forgotten, who touched his cap in salutation. Who were they who had designed all these pleasant conceits, and what fate had fallen on their descendants, we know not. At the time we speak of, the chateau was a select Pensionnat for ten young ladies, presided over by Madame Godarde, " of whom all particulars might be learned at Cadel's Library, Old Bond-street, or by personal application to the Eev. Pierre Faucher, Evangelical Minister, Adam-street, Strand, London. It was, as we have said, selecfr^-the most select of Pen- Bionnats. The ten young ladies were chosen after investigations the most scrutinising ; the conditions of the admission verged on the im- possible. The mistress realised in her person all the rare attributes of an elevated rank and a rigid Protestantism, while the educational programme was little short of a fellowship course. Just as being a Guardsman is supposed to confer a certain credit over a man's outset in life, it was meant that being an Sieve of Madame G-odarde should enter the world with a due and becoming prestige ; for, while the range of acquirements included something at least from every branch of human science, the real superiority and strength of the establish- ment lay in the moral culture observed there; and as the female teachers were selected from amongst the models of the sex, the male instructors were warranted as having triumphed over temptations not inferior to St. Anthony's. The ritual of the establishment well re- sponded to all the difficulties of admission. It was almost conventual in strictness ; and even to the uniform dress worn by the pupils there Was much that recalled the nunnery. The quiet uniformity of an unbroken existence, the changeless fashion of each day's life, im- pressed even young and buoyant hearts, and toned down to serious- ness spirits that nature had formed to be light and joyous. One by one, they who had entered there underwent this change; a little longer might be the struggle with some, the end was alike to all ; nay, not to all ! there was one whose temperament resisted to the last, and who, after three years of the durance, was just as unbroken in spirit, just as high in heart, just as gay, as when she first crossed the threshold. Gifted with one of those elastic natures which rise against every pressure, she accepted every hardship as the occasion for fresh resource, and met each new infliction, whether it were a severe task, 144 DAVENPOBT DUNN. or even punishment, with a high-hearted- resolve not to be vanquished. There was nothing in her appearance that indicated this hardihood: she was a fair, slight- girl,' whose features were feminine almost to childishness.- The grey-blue eyes, shaded with deep lashes ; the beau- tifully formed mouth, on' which a half saucy smile so often played; a half timid expression conveyed in the ever-changing colour of her cheek, suggested the expression of a highly impressionable and undecided nature ; yet this frail, delicate girl, whose bird-like voice reminded one of childhood, swayed and ruled all her companions. She added to-these personal graces abilities of a high order. Skilled in every accomplishment, she danced, and sang, and drew, and played better than her fellows; she spoke several modern languages fluently, and even caught uptheir local dialects with a quickness quite mar- vellous. She could warble the Venetian barcarole with all the soft accents of an Adriatic tongue, or sing the Bauerlied Of the Tyrol with every cadence of the peasant's fancy. With a memory so reten- tive that she could generally repeat what she had once read over attentively, she' had powers of mimicry that enabled her to produce at will everything noticeable that crossed her. A vivid fancy, too, threw its glittering light over all these faculties, so that even the common-place incidents of daily life grouped themselves dramatically in her mind, ; and .events the least striking were made the origin of situation and sentiment, brilliant with wit and poetry. Great' as all these 'advantages, were, they were aided, and not incon- siderably, by other and adventitious ones. She was reputed to be a great heiress; How, and when, and why this credit attached to her, it were hard to say; assuredly she had never given it any impulse. She spoke, indeed, constantly of her father — her only living relation — as of one who never grudged her any indulgence, and she showed her schoolfellows the : handsome presents which from time to time he sent her ; these'in their costliness— so unlike the gifts common to her age — may possibly have assisted the belief in her great wealth. But however founded, the- impression prevailed that she was to be the possessor of millions, and in the course of destiny, to be what her companions called her in jest— a Princess. Nor did the ; designation seem ill applied. Of all the traits her nature exhibited, none seemed so conspicuous as that of " birth." The admixture of timidity and haughtiness, that blended gentleness with an air of command, a certain instinctive acceptance of whatever deference was shown her as a matter of right and due, all spoke of " blood ;" and her walk, her voice, her slightest gesture, were in keep- ing with this impression. Even they who liked her least, and were ^ ts& DAVENPORT DTJNlf. 145 most jealous of her fascination, never called her Princess in any mockery. No, strange enough, the title was employed with all the significance of respect, and as such did she receive it. If it were not that, in her capricious moods, Nature has moulded stranger counterfeits than this, we might incur some risk of incre- dulity from our reader when we say that the Princess was no other than Grog Davis's daughter ! Davis had been a man of stratagems from his very beginning in life. All his gains had been acquired by dexterity and trick. What- ever he had accomplished was won as at a game where some other paid the loss. His mind, consequently, fashioned itself to the con- dition in which he lived, and sharpness, and shrewdness, and over- reaching seemed to him not alone the only elements of success, but the only qualities worth honouring. He had seen honesty and imbe- cility so often in company, that he thought them convertible terms ; and yet this man — " Leg," outcast, knave that he was — rose above all the realities of a life of roguery in one aspiration — to educate his child in purity, to screen her from the contamination of his own set, to bring her up amongst all the refining influences of care and cul- ture, and make her, as he said to himself, " the equal of the best lady in the land !" To place her amongst the well-born and wealthy, to have her where her origin could not be traced, where no clue would con- nect her with himself, had cost him a greater exercise of ingenuity than the deepest scheme he had ever plotted on the Turf. That exchange of references on which Madame Godarde's exclusiveness so peremp- torily insisted was only to be met at heavy cost. The distinguished baronet who stood sponsor to Grog Davis's respectability received cash for the least promising of promissory notes in return, and the lady who waited on Madame Godarde in her brougham " to make acquaint- ance with the person who was to have charge of her young relative," was the distracted mother of a foolish young man who had given bills to DaviB for several thousands, and who, by this special mission, ob- tained possession of the documents. In addition to these direct, there were many other indirect sacrifices. Grog was obliged for a season to forego all the habits and profits of his daily life, to live in a sort of respectable seclusion, his servants in mourning, and himself in the deepest sable for the loss of a wife who had died twelve years before. In fact, he had to take out a species of moral naturalisation, the de- tails of which seemed interminable, and served to convince him that respectability was not the easy, indolent thing he had hitherto ima- gined it. If Davis had been called on to furnish a debtor and creditor 146 DAYJENPOBT DUNS'. account of the transaction, the sum spent in the accomplishment of this feat would have astonished his assignee. As he said himself, " Fifteen hundred wouldn't Bee him through it." It is but fair to say that the amount so; represented comprised the very worst of had debts, but. Grog cared little for that ; his theory was that there wasn't the difference between a guinea and a pound in the best bill from Baring's and the worst paper in Holywell-street. " You can always get either your money or your money's worth," said he, "and very frequently the last ia the better of the two." If it was a, proud day for the father as he consigned his daughter to Madame Godarde's care, it was no less a happy one for Lizzy Davis, as sba found herself in the midst of companions: of her own age, and surrounded with all the occupations and appliances of a life of elegance. Brought up from infancy in a small school in a retired part of Cornwall, she had only known her father during the two or three off months of that probationary course of respectability we have alluded ta. "With all his affection for his child, and every desire to give it utterance, Davis was so conscious of his own defects, in education, and the blemishes which his tone of mind and thought would inevitably exhibit, that he had to preserve a sort of estrange- ment towards her,, and guard himself against whatever might preju- dice him in her esteem. If, then, by a thousand acts of kindness and liberality he gained on her affection,, there was that in his cold and distant manner that as totally repelled all confidence. To escape from the dull uniformity of that dreary home, where a visitor never entered, nor any intercourse with the world was maintained, to a scene redolent of life,, with gay, light-hearted associates^ all pursuing the same sunny paths, to engage her brilliant faculties in a variety of congenial pursuits wherein there was only so much of difficulty as inspired zeal, to enter on an existence wherein each day imparted the sense of new acquirement, was a happiness that verged on ecstasy. It needed not all the flatteries that surrounded her to make this seem a paradise ;, but she had these, too, and. in so many ways. Some loved her light-heartedness, and that gay spirit that floated like an atmo- sphere about her ; others praised her gracefulness and her beauty ; some preferred to these^ those versatile gifts of mind that gave her the mastery over whatever she desired to learn j and there were those who dwelt on the great fortune she. was to have-, and the great destiny that awaited her.. How often in the sportive levity of happy girlhood had they asked her what life she should choose for herself — what station, and what land to live in. They questioned her in all sincerity,, believing she DAVBKPOET DTJITN. 147 had but to wish, to have the existence that pleased her. Then what tender caresses followed! what flattering entreaties that the dear Princess would not forget Josephine, or Gertrude, or Julia, in the days of her greatness, but would recognise those who had been her loved schoolfellows years before ! " What a touchstone of your tact will it be, Lizzy, when you're a Duchess," said one, "to meet one of us in a watering-place, or on a steam-boat, and to explain, delicately enough not to hurt us, to his Grace the Duke that you knew us as girls, and how provoking if you should call me Jane or Clara !" " And then the charming condescension of your inquiry if we were married, though a half-bashful and an awkward-looking man should be standing by at our interview, waiting to be presented, and afraid to be spoken to. Or worse than that, the long, terrible pauses in conversation, which show how afraid you are lest we should tumble into reminiscences." "Oh, Lizzy, darling," cried another, " do be a Duchess for a moment, and show how you would treat us all. It would be charming." "You seem to be forgetting, Mesdames," said she, haughtily, " what an upstart you are making of me. This wondrous elevation, which is at once to make me forget my friends and myself, does not present to my eyes the same dazzling effect. In fact, I can imagine myself a Duchess to-morrow without losing either my self-respect or my memory." " Daisy, dearest, do not be angry with us," cried one, addressing her by the pet name which they best loved to call her. " I am rather angry with myself that I should leave no better im- pression behind me. Yes," added she, in a tone of sadness, " I am going away." " Oh, darling Lizzy — oh, Daisy, don't say so," broke out so many voices together. " Too true ! dearest friends," said she, throwing her arms around those nearest to her. " I only learned it this morning. Madame Godarde came to my room to say papa had written for me, and would come over to fetch me in about a fortnight. I ought doubtless to be so happy at the prospect of going home ; but I have no mother — I have not either brother or sister ; and here, amidst you, I have every tie that can attach the heart. "When shall I ever live again amidst such loving hearts ? — when shall life be the happy dream I have felt it here?" " But think of us, Daisy, forlorn and deserted," cried one, sobbing. " Yes, Lizzy," broke in another, " imagine the day-by-day dis- i2 149 DATENPOEX DTTNIf. appointments that will break on us as we discover that this pleasure or that spot owed its charm to you — that it was your voice made the air melody — your accents gave the words their feeling ! Fancy us as we find out — as find out we must — that the affection we bore you bound us into one sisterhood " " Oh !" burst Lizzy in, " do let me carry away some of my heart to him who should have it all, and make not my last moments with you too painful to bear. Eemember, too, that it is but a passing separation ; we can and we will write to each other. I'll never weary of hearing all about you and this dear spot. There's not a rosebud opening to the morning air but will bring some fragrance to my heart ; and that dear old window ! how often shall I sit at it in fancy, and look over the fair plain before us. Bethink you, too, that I am only the first launched into that wide ocean of life where we are all to meet hereafter." " And be the dear, dear friends we now are," cried another. And so they hung upon her neck and kissed her, bathing her soft tresses with their tears, and indulging in all the rapture of that sorrow no ecstasy of joy can equal. CHAPTEE XVIII. SOME DOINGS OF ME. DKISCOLL. " Thebe it is, Bella," said Kellett, as he entered the cottage at nightfall, and threw a sealed letter on the table. "I hadn't the courage to open it. A fellow came into the office and said, ' Is one Kellett here? This is a letter from Mr. Davenport Dunn.' He was Mister, and J was one Kellett. "Wasn't I low enough when I couldn't say a word to it ? — wasn't I down in the world when I had to bear it in silence ?" " Shall I read it for you ?" said she, gently. " Do, darling ; but before you begin, give me a glass of whisky- and-water. I want courage for it, and something tells me, Bella, I'll need courage too." " Come, come, papa, this is not like yourself; this is not the old Albuera spirit you are so justly proud of." " Five-and-thirty years' hard struggling with the world never im- proved a man's pluck. There wasn't a fellow in the Buffs had more DAVENPOET DTJ3X. 149 life in him than Paul Kellett. It was in general orders never to sell my traps or camp-furniture when I was reported missing ; for, as General Pack said, ' Kellett is sure to turn up to-morrow, or the day after.' And look at me now !" cried he, bitterly ; " and as to selling me out, they don't show me much mercy, Bella, do they ?" She made no reply, but slowly proceeded to break the seal of the letter. , " What a hurry ye're in to read bad news," cried he, peevishly ; " can't you wait till I finish this ?" And he pointed to the glass, which he sipped slowly, like one wishing to linger over it. A half-melancholy smile was all her answer, and he went on : " I'm as sure of what's in that letter there as if I read it. Now ; mark my words, and I'll just tell you the contents of it. Kellett's Court is sold, the first sale confirmed, and the Master's report on your poor mother's charge is unfavourable. There's not a perch of the old estate left us, and we're neither more nor less than beggars. There it is for you in plain English." " Let us learn the worst at once, then," said she, resolutely, as she opened the letter. " "Who told you that was the worst ?" broke he in, angrily. " The worst isn't over for the felon in the dock when the Judge has finished the sentence, there's the ' drop' to come, after that." " Pather, father !" cried she, pitifully, " be yourself again. Ee- member what you said the other night, that if we had poor Jack back again you'd not be afraid to face life in some new world beyond the seas, and care little for hardships or humble fortune if we could only be together." " I was dreaming, I suppose," muttered he, doggedly. " No ; you were speaking out of the fulness of your love and affection ; you were showing me how little the accidents of fortune touch the happiness of those resolved to walk humbly, and that once divested of that repining spirit which wa3 ever recalling the past, we should confront the life before us more light of heart than we have felt for many a year." " I wonder what put it in my head," muttered he, in the same despondent tone. " Tour own stout heart put it there. Tou were recalling what young Conway was telling us about poor Jack's plans and projects ; and how, when the war was over, he'd get the Sultan to grant him a patch of: land close to the Bosphorus, where he'd build a little kiosk for us all, and we'd grow our own corn and have our own vines and fig-trees, seeking for nothing but what our own industry should give us." 150 BAVENPOET DVSTS. " Dreams, dreams !" said he, sighing drearily. " You may read the letter now." And she began : " Sib, — By direction of Mr. Davenport Dunn, I have to acquaint you that the Commissioners, having overruled the objections sub- mitted by him, will on Tuesday next proceed to the sale of the lands of Kellett' s Court, Gorestown, and Kilmaganny, free of all charges and encumbrances thereon, whether by marriage settlement " " I told you — that's just what I was saying," burst in Kellett ; " there's not sixpence left us !" She ran hurriedly over to herself the tiresome intricacies that fol- lowed, till she came to the end, where a brief postscript ran : " As your name is amongst those to be reduced in consequence of the late Treasury order regarding the Customs, Mr. Dunn hopes you will lose no time in providing yourself with another employment, to which end he will willingly contribute any aid in his power." A wild, hysterical burst of laughter broke from Kellett as she ceased. " Isn't there any more good news, Bella ? Look over it carefully, darling, and you'll surely discover something else." The terrible expression of his face shocked her, and she could make no Teply. " I'll wager a crown, if you search well, you'll see something about sending me to gaol, or, maybe, transporting me. — "Who's that knock- ing at the door there ?" cried he, angrily, as a very loud noise re- sounded through the little cottage. " 'Tis a gentleman without wants to speak to the master," said the old woman, entering. " I'm engaged, and can't see anybody," rejoined Kellett, sternly. " He says it's the same if he could see Miss Bella," reiterated the old woman. " He can't, then ; she's engaged too." The woman still lingered at the door, as if she expected some change of purpose. " Don't you hear me ? — don't you understand what I said ?" cried he, passionately. " Tell him that your master cannot see him," said Bella. " If I don't make too bould — if it's not too free of me — maybe you'd excuse the liberty I'm taking," said a man, holding the door slightly open, and projecting a round bullet head and a very red face into the room. DATEKPOET DTTNIT. 151 " Oh, Mr. Driscoll," cried Bella. " Mrs. Hawkshaw's brother, papa," whispered she, quietly, to her father, who, notwithstanding the announcement, made no sign. " If Captain Kellett would pardon my intrusion," said Driscoll, entering with a most submissive air, " he'd soon see that it was at laste with good intentions I came out all the way here on foot, and a bad night besides— a nasty little drizzling rain and mud — such mud !" And he held up in evidence a foot about the size of an elephant's. •" Pray sit down, Mr. Driscoll," said Bella, placing a chair for him. " Papa was engaged with matters of business when you knocked — some letters of consequence." " Yes, miss, to be sure, and didn't want to be disturbed," Baid Driscoll, as he sat down, and wiped his heated forehead. " I'm often the same way myself ; but when I'm at home, and want nobody to disturb me, I put on a little brown-paper cap I have, and that's the sign no one's to talk to me." Kellett burst into a laugh at the conceit, and Driscoll so artfully joined in the emotion, that when it ceased they were already on terms of intimacy. " Tou see what a strange crayture I am. God help me," said Driscoll, sighing, " I have to try as many dodges with myself as others does be using with the world, for my poor head goeswanderia 5 away about this, that, and the other, and I'm never sure it will think of what I want." " That's a sad case," said Kellett, compassionately. " I was like everybody else till I had the fever," continued Driscoll, confidentially, " It was the spotted fever, not the scarlet fever, d'ye mind ; and when I came out of it on the twenty-ninth day, I was the same as a child, simple and innocent. You'd laugh now if I told you what I did with the first half-crown I got. I bought a bag of marbles !" And Kellett did laugh heartily ; less, perhaps, at the circumstance than at the manner and look of him who told it, "Ay, faith, marbles !" muttered Driscoll to himself ; "'tis a, game I'm mighty fond of." " Will you take a little whisky-and-water ? Hot or cold ?" asked Kellett, courteously. " Just a taste, to take off the deadness of the water," said Driscoll. " I'm obleeged to be as cautious as if I was walkin 1 on eggs. Dr. Dodd says to me, ' Terry,' says he, ' you had never much brains in your best days, but now you're only a sheet of thin paper removed from an idiot, and if you touch spirits it's all up with you.' " 152 BATESPOET ETON. " That was plain speaking, anyhow," said Kellett, smiling. " Tea," said Driscoll, while he Beemed struggling to call up some reminiscence ; and then, having succeeded, said, " ay, ' There's five- and-twenty in Swift's this minute,' says he, ' with their heads shaved, and in blue cotton dressing-gowns, more sensible than yourself.' But, you see, there was one thing in my favour, I was always harm- less." The compassionate expression with which. Kellett listened to this declaration guaranteed how completely the speaker had engaged his sympathy. " Well, well," continued Driscoll, "maybe I'm just as happy, ay, happier than ever I was ! Every one is kind and good-natured to me now. Nobody takes offence at what I say or do ; they know well in their hearts that I don't mean any harm." " That you don't," broke in Bella, whose gratitude for many a pass- ing word of kindness, as he met her of a morning, willingly seized upon the opportunity for acknowledgment. "My daughter has often told me of the kind way you always spoke to her." "Think of. that, now," muttered Terry to himself; "and I saying all the while to my own heart, "Tis a proud man you ought to be to- day, Terry Driscoll, to be giving " Q-ood morning" to Miss Kellett of Kellett's Court, the best ould blood in your own county.' " "Tour health, Driscoll — your health," cried Kellett, warmly. " Let your head be where it will, your heart's in the right place, any- how." " Do you say so, now ?" asked he, with all the eagerness of one putting a most anxious question. " I do, and I'd swear it," cried Kellett, resolutely. " 'Tis too clever and too 'cute the world's grown ; they were better times when there was more good feeling and less learning." " Indeed — indeed, it was the remark I made to my sister Mary the night before last," broke in Driscoll. " ' What is there,' says I, ' that Miss Kellett can't teach them ? they know the rule of three and What's-his-name's Questions as well as I know my prayers. Tou don't want them to learn mensuration and the use of the globes ?' ' I'll send them to a school in Erance,' says she ; ' it's the only way to be genteel.' " " To a school in Erance ?" cried Bella ; " and is that really deter- mined on ?" " Tes, Miss ; they're to go immediately, and ye see that was the reason I walked out here in the rain to-night. I said to myself, DATEHPOET DUNN. 153 ' Terry,' says I, ' they'll never say a word about this to Miss Kellett till the quarter is up ; be off, now, and break it to her at once.' " " It was so like your own kind heart," burst out Bella. " Yes," muttered Driscoll, as if in a reverie, " that's the only good o' me now, I can think of what will be of use to others." " Didn't I tell you we were in a vein of good luck, Bella ?" said Kellett, between his teeth ; " didn't I say a while ago there was more coming ?" " ' But,' says I to Mary," continued Driscoll, " ' you must take care to recommend Miss Kellett among your friends ' " Kellett dashed his glass down with such force on the table as to frighten Driscoll, whose speech was thus abruptly cut short, and the two men sat Btaring fixedly at each other. The expression of poor Terry's vacant face, in which a struggling effort to deprecate anger was the solitary emotion readable, so overcame Kellett' s passion, that, stooping over, he grasped the other's hand warmly, and said, " You're a kind-hearted creature, and you'd never hurt a living soul. I'm not angry with you." " Thank you, Captain Kellett — thank you," cried the other, hur- riedly, and wiped his brow, like one vainly endeavouring to follow out a chain of thought collectedly. " "Who is this told me that you had another daughter ?" " No," said Kellett ; " I have a son." " Ay, to be sure ; so it was a son, they said, and a fine strapping young fellow, too. Where is he ?" " He's with his regiment, the Eifles, in the Crimea." " Dear me, now, to think of that, — fighting the French just the way his father did." " No," said Kellett, smiling, " it's the Eussians he's fighting, and the French are helping him to do it." " That's better any day," said Driscoll ; " two to one is a pleasanter match. And so he's in the Eifles ?" And here he laid his head on his hand and seemed lost in thought. " Is he a captain ?" asked he, after a long pause. "No, not yet," said Kellett, while his cheek flushed at the evasion he was practising. ""Well, maybe he will soon," resumed the other, relapsing once more into deep thought. " There was a young fellow joined them in Cork just before they sailed, and I lent him thirty shillings, and he never paid me. I wonder what became of him ? Maybe he's killed." " Just as likely," said Kellett, carelessly. " Now, would your son be able to make him out for me ? — not for the 154 DATENPOET DUNN. sake of the money, for I wouldn't speak of it, but out of regard for him, for I took a liking to him ; he was a fine, handsome fellow, and bold as a lion." " He mightn't be in Jack's battalion, or he might, and Jack not know him. "What was his name ?" said Kellett, in some confusion. " I'll tell you if you'll pledge your word you'll never say a syllable about the money, for I can't think but he forgot it." " I'll never breathe a word about it." " .And will you ask your son all about him — if he likes the »arvice, or if he'd rather be at home, and how it agrees with him ?" " And the name ?" " The name ? — I wrote it down on a bit of paper just for my own memory's sake, for I forget everything — the name is Conway — Charles Conway." " Why, that's the very " When he got bo far, a warning look from Bella arrested Kellett's voice, and he ceased speaking, looking eagerly at his daughter for some explanation. Had he not been so anxious for some clue to her meaning, he could scarcely have failed to be struck by the intense keenness of the glance Driscoll turned from the countenance of the father to that of the daughter. She, however, marked it, and with such significance, that a deathlike sickness crept suddenly over her, and she sank slowly down into a seat. " Ton were saying, ' That's the very ' " said Driscoll, repeating the words, and waiting for the conclusion. "The very name we read in a newspaper," said Bella, who, with a sort of vague instinct of some necessity for concealment, at once gave this evasive reply : " He volunteered for somewhere, or was first inside a battery, or did something or other very courageous." " It wasn't killed he was ?" said Driscoll, in his habitual indolent tone. "Wo, no," cried Kellett, " he was all safe." " Isn't it a queer thing ? but I'd like to hear of him ! There was some Conways connexions of my mother's, and I can't get it out of my head but he might be one of them. It's not a common name, like Driscoll." "Well, Jack will, maybe, be able to tell you about him," said Kellett, still under the spell of Bella's caution. " If you would tell me on what points you want to be informed," said Bella, " I shall be writing to my brother in a day or two. Are there any distinct questions you wish to be answered ?" The calm but searching glance that accompanied these few words DAVENPOBT DUNN. 155 gradually gave way to an expression of pity as Bella gazed at the hopeless imbecility of poor Driscoll's face, wherein not a gleam of in- telligence now lingered. It was as if the little struggle of intellect had so exhausted him that he was incapable of any further effort of reason. And there he sat, waiting till the returning tide of thought should flow back upon his stranded intelligence. " "Would you like him to be questioned about the family ?" said she, looking good-naturedly at him. "Yes, Miss — yes," said he, half dreamily; "that is, I wouldn't like my own name, poor crayture as I am, to be mentioned, but if you could anyways find out if he was one of the Conways of Aber- gedley — they were my mother's people — if you could find out that for me, it would be a great comfort." " I'll charge myself with the commission," said Bella, writing down the words " Conway of Abergedley." "Now there was something else, if my poor head could only remember it," said Driscoll, whose countenance displayed the most complete picture of a puzzled intelligence. " Mix yourself another tumbler, and you'll think of it by-and-by," said Kellett, courteously. " Yes," muttered Driscoll, accepting the suggestion at once. " It was something about mustard-seed, I think," added he, after a pause ; " they say it will keep fresh for two years if you put it in a blue paper bag — deep blue is best." A look of sincere compassion passed between Kellett and his daughter, and Driscoll went on — " I don't think it was that, though, I wanted to remember." And he fell into deep reflection for several minutes, at the end of which he started abruptly up, finished off his glass, and began to button up his coat in preparation for the road. " Don't go till I see what the night looks like," cried Kellett, as he left the room to examine the state of the weather. " If I should be fortunate enough to obtain any information, how shall I communicate with you ?" asked Bella, addressing tn'm hastily, as if to profit by the moment of their being alone. Driscoll looked fixedly at her for a second or two, and gradnally the expression of his face settled down into its habitual cast of un- meaning imbecility, while he merely muttered to himself, " No evi- dence — throw out the bills." She repeated her question, and in a voice to show that she believed herself well understood. " Yes !" said he, with a vacant grin—" yes ! but they don't agree with everybody." 156 DAVBNPOET DUNN. " There's a bit of a moon out now, and the rain has stopped," said Kellett, entering, " so that it wouldn't be friendly to detain you." " Good night, good night," said Driscoll, hurriedly ; " that spirit is got up to my head. I feel it. A pleasant journey to you both, and be sure to remember me to Mrs. Miller." And with these incoherent words he hastened away, and his voice was soon heard singing cheerily, as he plodded his way towards Dublin. " That's the greatest affliction of all," said Kellett, as he sat down and sipped his glass. " There's nothing like having one's faculties, one's reason, clear and unclouded. • I wouldn't be like that poor fellow there to be as rich as the Duke of Leinster." " It is a strange condition," said Bella, thoughtfully. " There were moments when his eyes lighted up with a peculiar significance, as if at intervals his mind had regained all its wonted vigour. Did you remark that ?" "Indeed I did not. I saw nothing of the kind," said Kellett, peevishly. " By the way, why were you so cautious about Conway ?" " Just because he begged that his name might not be mentioned. He said that some trifling debts were still hanging over him, from his former extravagance ; and though all in course of liquidation, he dreaded the importunate appeals of creditors, so certain to pour in if they heard of his being in Dublin." " Every one has his troubles !" muttered Kellett, as he sank into a moody reflection over his own, and sipped his liquor in silence. Let us now follow Driscoll, who, having turned the corner of the lane, out of earshot of the cottage, suddenly ceased his song and walked briskly along towards town. Bapidly as he walked, his lips moved more rapidly still, as he maintained a kind of conversation with himself, bursting out from time to time with a laugh, as some peculiar conceit amused him. "To be sure, a connexion by the mother's side," said he. " One has a right to ask after his own re- lations ! And for all I know, my grandmother was a Conway. The ould fool was so near pokin' his foot in it, and letting out that he knew him well. She's a deep one, that daughter; and it was a bould stroke the way she spoke to me when we were alone. It was just as much as to say, ' Terry, put your cards down, for I know your hand. 1 ' No, Miss,' says I, ' I've a thrump in the heel of my fist that ye never set eyes on. Ha, ha, ha !' But she's deep for all that — mighty deep ; and if it was safe, I wish we had her in the plot ! Ay ! but is it safe, Mr. Driscoll ? By the virtue of your oath, Terry Driscoll, do you belave she wouldn't turn on you ? She's a fine-looking girl, too," added he, after an interval. " I wish I knew her sweetheart, DATENPOET DUNN. 157 for she surely has one. Terry, Terry, ye must bestir yourself; ye must be up early and go to bed late, my boy. You're not the man ye were before ye had that 'faver'— that spotted faver!" Here he laughed till his eyes ran over. " What a poor crayture it has left ye — no memory — no head for anything!" And he actually shook with laughter at the thought. " Poor Terry Driscoll, ye are to be pitied !" said he, as he wiped the tears from his face. " Isn't it a sin and a shame there's no one to look after ye ?" CHAPTER XIX. DRISCOLL IN CONFERENCE. "Not come in yet, Sir, but he is sure to be back soon," said Mr. Clowes, the butler, to Terry Driscoll, as he stood in the hall of Mr. Davenport Dunn's house, about eleven o'clock of the same night we have spoken of in our last chapter. " You're expecting him, then ?" asked Driscoll, in his own humble manner. " Yes, Sir," said Clowes, looking at his watch ; " he ought to be here now. We have a deal of business to get through to-night, and several appointments to keep ; but he'll see you, Mr. Driscoll. He always gives directions to admit you at once." " Does he really ?" asked Driscoll, with an air of perfect innocence. " Yes," said Clowes, in a tone at once easy and patronising, " he likes you. You are one of the very few who can amuse him. Indeed, I don't think I ever heard him laugh, what I'd call a hearty laugh, except when you're with him." "Isn't that quare now!" exclaimed Driscoll. "Lord knows it's little fun is in me now !" " Come in and take a chair — charge you nothing for the sitting," said Clowes, laughing at his own smartness as he led the way into a most comfortably furnished little room which formed his own sanctum. The walls were decorated with coloured prints and drawings of great projected enterprises — peat fuel manufactories of splendid preten- sions, American packet stations on the west coast, of almost regal architecture, vied with ground plans of public parks and ornamental 158 DATEITPOET DiJinr. model farms ; fish-curing institutions, and smelting-bouses, and beet- root sugar-buildings, graced scenes of the very wildest desolation, and, by an active representation of life and movement, seemed to typify the wealth and prosperity which enterprise was sure to carry into regions the very dreariest and least promising. " A fine thing that, Mr. Driscoll," said Clowes, as Terry stood admiring a large and highly-coloured plate, wherein several steam- engineB were employed in supplying mill-streams with water from a vast lake, while thousands of people seemed busily engaged in spade labour on its borders. " That is the ' Lough Corrib Drainage and Fresh Strawberry Company,' capital eight hundred thousand pounds ! Chemical analysis has discovered that the soil of drained lands, treated with a suitable admixture of the alkaline carbonates, is peculiarly favourable to the growth of the strawberry — a fruit whose properties are only now receiving their proper estimate. The strawberry, you are, perhaps, not aware, is a great anti-scorbutic. Six strawberries, taken in a glass of diluted malic acid of a morning, fasting, would restore the health of those fine fellows we are now daily losing in such numbers in the Crimea. I mean, of course, a regular treatment of three months of this regimen, with due attention to diet, cleanliness, and habit of exercise — all predisposing elements removed — all causes of mental anxiety withdrawn. To this humane discovery this great industrial speculation owes its origin. There, you see the engines at full work ; the lake is iu process of being drained, the water being all utilised by the mills you see yonder, some of which are com- pressing the strawberry pulp into a paste for exportation. Here, are the people planting the shoots ; those men in blue, with the watering- pots, are the alkaline feeders, who supply the plant with the chemical preparation I mentioned, the strength being duly marked by letters, as you see. B. C. P. means bi-carbonate of potash ; S. C. S., sub- carbonate of soda; and so on. Already, Sir," said he, raising his voice, " we have contracts for the supply of twenty-eight tons a week, and we hope," added he, with a tremulous fervour in his voice, "to Eve to see the time when the table of the poorest peasant in the land will be graced by the health- conducing condiment." " With all my heart and soul I wish you success," said Driscoll ; while he muttered under hi» breath what sounded like a fervid prayer for the realisation of this blessed hope. " Of that we are pretty certain, Sir^" said Clowes, pompously ; " the shares are now one hundred and twelve — paid up in two calls, thirty- six pounds ten shillings. He," said Clowes, with a jerk of his thumb towards Mr. Dunn's room meant to indicate its owner — "Tie don't like it, calls it a bubble, and all that, but I have known him mistaken, DATElfPOBT DTnpr. 159 Sir — ay, and more than once. Tou may remember that vein, of yellow marble — giallo antico, they call it — found on Martin's property That's his knock ; here he comes now," cried he, hurrying away to meet, his master, and leaving the story of his blunder unrelated "All right," said Clowes, re-entering hastily ; "you can go in now. He seems in a precious humour to-night," added he, in a low whisper; " something or other has gone wrong with him." Driscoll had scarcely closed the inner door of cloth that formed the last security of Davenport Dunn's privacy, when he perceived the correctness of Mr. Clowes's information. Dunn's brow was dark and clouded, his face slightly flushed, and his eye restless and excited. " "What is it so very pressing, Driscoll, that couldn't wait till to- morrow ?" said he, peevishly, and not paying the slightest attention to the other's courteous salutation. " I thought this was the time you liked best," said DriscoHV quietly ; " you always said, ' Come to me when I've done for the day ' " " But who told you I had done for.the day? That pile of letters has yet to be answered, — many of them I have not even read. The At- torney-General will be here in a few minutes about these prosecu- tions, too." " That's a piece of good luck, anyhow," said Driscoll, quickly. " How so ? "What d'ye mean ?" " "Why, we could just get a kind of travelling opinion out of him about this: case." " "What nonsense you talk," said Dunn, angrily ; " as if a lawyer of standing and ability would commit himself by pronouncing on a most complicated question, the details of which he. was to gather from yew /" The look and emphasis that accompanied the last word were to the' last degree insulting, but they seemed to give no offence whatever to him to whom they were addressed j on the contrary, he met them with a twinkle of the eye, and a droll twist of the mouth, as he muttered half to himself t "Tea, G-od help me, I'll never set the Liffey on fire!" "Tou might, though, if you had it heavily insured," said Dunn, with a savage irony in his manner that might well have provoked re- joinder ; but Driscoll was proof against whatever he didn't want to resent, and laughed pleasantly at the sarcasm. "Tou were dining at the Lodge, I suppose, to-day?" asked he, eager to get the conversation afloat at any cost. "No, at Luscombe's— the Chief Secretary's," said Dunn, cartly. " They say he's a clever fellow," said Driscoll'. " They are heartily welcome to this opinion who think so>" broke in Dunn, peevishly. " Let them call him a fortunate one if they like, 160 DAVENPOET DTJNN. and they'll be nearer the mark. — "What of this affair ?" said he, at last. " Have you found out Conway ?" " No, but I learned that he dined and passed the evening with ould Paul Kellett. He came over to Ireland to bring him some news of his son, who served in the same regiment, and so I went out to Kellett to pump them ; but for some reason or other they're as close as wax. The daughter beats all ever you saw ! She tried a great stroke of cunning with me, but it wouldn't do." " It was your poor head and the spotted fever — eh ?" said Dunn, laughing. "Yes," said Driscoll; "I never was rightly myself since that." And he laughed heartily. " This is too slow for me, Driscoll ; you must find out the young fellow at once, and let me see him. I have read over the statement again, and it is wonderfully complete. Hatehard has it now before him, and will give me his opinion by Sunday next. On that same day Mr. Beecher is to dine with me ; now if you could manage to have Conway here on Monday morning, I'd probably be in a condi- tion to treat openly with him." " You're going too fast — too fast entirely," said Driscoll ; " sure, if Conway sees the road before him, he may just thravel it without us at all." " I'll take care he shall not know which path to take, Driscoll ; trust me for that. Remember that the documents we have are all-essential to him. Before he sees one of them our terms must be agreed on." " I'll have ten thousand paid down on the nail. 'Tis eight years I am collectin' them papers. I bought that shooting-lodge at Banthry, that belonged to the Beechers, just to search the old cupboard in the dinner-room. It was plastered over for fifty years, and Denis Ma- grath was the only man living knew where it was." " I'm aware of all that. The discovery — if such it prove — was all your own, Driscoll ; and as to the money remuneration, I'll not de- fraud you of a sixpence." " There was twelve hundred pounds," continued Driscoll, too full of his own train of thought to think of anything else, "for a wretched ould place with the roof fallin' in, and every stack of it rotten ! Eight years last Michaelmas — that's money, let me tell you ! and I never got more than thirty pounds any year out of it since." " You shall be paid, and handsomely paid." " Yes," said Terry, nodding. " You can have good terms on either Bide." " Yes, or a little from both," added Driscoll, dryly. BATEBPOET DUIW. 161 CHAPTER XX. AN EVENING WITH OKOG DAVIS. It was late at night, and Grog Davis sat alone, by a solitary candle in his dreary room. The fire had long burned out, and great pools of wet, driven by the beating rain through the' rickety sashes, soaked the ragged'carpet that covered the floor, while frequent gusts of storm scattered the slates, and shook the foundations of the frail building. To all seeming, he paid little attention to the poor and comfortless features of the spot. A short square bottle of Hollands, and a paper of coarse cigars beside him, seemed to offer sufficient defence against such cares, while he gave up his mind to some intricate problem which he was working out with a pack of cards. He dealt, and shuffled, and dealt again, with marvellous rapidity. There was that in each motion of the wrist, in every movement of the finger, that be- spoke practised manipulation, and a glance quick as lightning on the board was enough to show him how the game fared. " Passed twelve times," muttered he to himself, then added aloud, " Make your game, gentlemen, make your game. The game is made. Eed, thirty-two. Now for it, Grog, man or a mouse, my • boy. Mouse it is! by " cried he, with an infamous oath. -"Red wins'! Confound the' cards!" cried. he, dashing them on the floor. " Two minutes ago I had enough to live on, the rest of my days. I appeal to any man in the room," said he, with a look of peculiar defiance around him, "if he ever saw such ill luck! There's not another fellow breathing ever got it like me !" And as he spoke, he arose and walked up and down the chamber, frowning savagely, and turning 1 glances of insolent meaning on every side of him. At last, approaching the table, he filled out a glass of gin and drank it off, and then, stooping down, he gathered up the cards and reseated himself. " Take you fifty on the first ace," cried he, addressing an imaginary bettor, while he began to deal out the cards in two separate heaps. " "Won !" exclaimed he, delightedly. " Go you double or quits, Sir — Any gentleman with another fifty ? — A pony if yon like, Sir P — Done ! Won again, by jingo ! This is the only game, after all — decided in a second. I make the bank, gentlemen, two hundred in the bank. u 162 DATENPOBT DTTNIT. Why, where are the bettors this evening ? This is only punting, gentlemen. Any one say five hundred — four — three — one hundred — for the first knave ?" And the cards fell from his hands with won- drous rapidity. " Now, if no one is inclined to play, let's have a broiled bone," said he, rising, and bowing courteously around him. " Second the motion !" cried a cheery voice, as the door opened and Annesley Beecher entered. " Why, Grog, my hearty, I thought you had a regular flock of pigeons here. I heard you talking as I came up the stairs, and fancied you were doing a smart stroke of work." " What robbery have you, been at with that white choker and that gimerack waistcoat ?" said Davis, sulkily. "Dining with Dunn, and a capital dinner he gave me. I'm puzzled to say whether I like his wine or his cookery best." " Were there many there f " " None but ourselves." " Lord ! how he must have worked you !" cried Davis, with an in- solent grin. " Ain't such a flat as you think me, Master Grog. Solomon was a wise man, and Samson a strong one, and A. B. can hold his own with most ' in the ruck.' " A most contemptuous look was the only answer Davis condescended to this speech. At last, after he had lighted a fresh cigar, and puffed it into fuE work, he said, " Well, what was it he had to say to you ?" - " Oh, we talked away of everything ; and, by Jupiter ! he knows a little of everything. Such a memory, too ; remembers every fellow that was in power the last fifty years, and can tell you how he was 8 squared,' for it's all on the ' cross ' with them, Grog, just as in the ring. Every fellow rides to order, and half the running one sees is no race ! Any hot water to be had ?" " No, there's cold in that jug yonder. Well, go on with Dunn." " He is very agreeable, I must say ; for, besides having met every- body, he knows all their secret history. How this one got out of his scrape, and why that went into the 'hole. You see in a moment how much he must be trusted, and that he can make his book on life as safe as the Bank of England. Fearfully strong that gin is !" " No, it ain't," said Grog, rudely ; " it's not the velvety tipple Dunn gave you, but it's good British gin, that's what it is." " Tou wouldn't; believe, too, how much he knows about women! He's up to everything that's going on in town. Yery strange that, for a fellow HIta him. Don't you think so ?" BAVEITPOET DTJMT. 163 Davis made no answer, but puffed away slowly. " And after women, what came next ?" " He talked next— let me see— about books. How lie likes Becky Sharp — how he enjoys her! He says that character will do the same service as the published discovery of some popular fraud ; and that the whole race of Beckys now are detected swindlers — nothing less." " And what if they are ; is that going to prevent their cheating ? Hasn't the world always its crop of flats coming out in succession like green peas ? "What did he turn to after that ?" " Then we had a little about the turf." " He don't know anything about the turf!" said Grog, with intense contempt. " I'm not so sure of that," said Beecher, cautiously. " Did he speak of me at all ?" said Grog, with a peculiar grin. " No ; only to ask if you were the same Captain Davis that was mentioned in that affair at Brighton." " And what did you say P" " Said ! Not knowing couldn't tell, Master Grog. Knew you were a great friend of my brother Lackington's, and always hand in glove with Blanchard and the swells." " And how did he take that ?" " Said something about two of the same name, and changed the subject." Davis drew near the table, and taking up the cards began to shuffle them slowly like one seeking some excuse for a moment of uninter- rupted reflection. "I've found out the way that Yankee fellow does the king," said he, at last. " It's not the common bridge that everybody knows. It's a Mississippi touch, and a very neat one. Cut them now wherever you like." Beecher cut the cards with all due care, and leaned eagerly over the table. " King of diamonds !" cried Grog, slapping the card, on the board. " Do it again," said Beecher, admiringly ; and once more Davis performed the dexterous feat. "It's a nick!" cried Beecher, examining the edge of the card minutely. " It ain't no such thing!" said Davis, angrily. " I'd give you ten years to find it out, and twenty to do it, and you'd fail in both." " Let's see the dodge, Grog," said Beecher, half coaxingly. . " Tou don't Bee my hand till you put yours on the table," said Davis, fiercely. Then crossing his arms before him, and fixing his red m2 164 DAYENPOBT DUNN. fiery eyes on Beecher's face, he went on : " What do you mean by this fencing— just tell me what you mean by it ?" " I don't understand you," said Beecher, whose features were now of ashy paleness. " Then you shall understand me !" cried Davis, with an oath. " Do you want me to believe that Dunn had you to dine with him all alone — just to talk about politics of which you know nothing, or books of which you know less. That he'd give you four precious hours of a Sunday evening to hear your opinions about men, or women, or things in general. Do you ask me to swallow that, Sir ?" " I ask you to swallow nothing," stammered out Beecher, in whose heart pride and fear were struggling for the mastery. " I have told you what we spoke of; if anything else passed between us, perhaps it was of a private and personal nature ; perhaps it referred to family topics ; perhaps I might have given a solemn assurance not to reveal the subject of it to any one." " Tou did — did you ?" said Davis, with a sneer. " I said, perhaps I might have done so. I didn't say I had." " And so you think — you fancy — that you're a going to double on me," said Davis, rising, and advancing towards him with a sort of insulting menace. " Now, look here, my name ain't Davis but if you ever try it — try it, I say, because as to doing it, I dare you to your face — but if you just try it, twelve hours won't pass over till the dock of a police-court is graced by the Honourable Annesley Beecher on a charge of forgery." " Oh, Davis !" cried Beecher, as he placed his hands over the other's lips, and glanced in terror through the room. " There never was anything I didn't tell you — you're the only man breathing that knows me." " And I do know you, by Heaven, I do !" cried the other, savagely ; " and I know you'd sneak out of my hands to-morrow, if you dared ; but this I tell you, when you leave mine it will be to exchange into the turnkey's. Tou fancy that because I see you are a fool that I don't suspect you to be a crafty one. Ah ! what a mistake you make there!" " But listen to me, Grog — just hear me." " My name's Davis, Sir — Captain Davis — let me hear you call me anything else '." ' " "Well, Davis, old fellow — the best and truest friend ever fellow had in the world — now what's all this about ? I'll tell you every syllable that passed between Dunn and myself. I'll give you my DATENPOET DTJN1T. 165 oath, as solemnly as you can dictate it to me, not to conceal one word. He made me swear never to mention it. It was Tie that imposed the condition on me. What he said was this: 'It's a case where you need no counsel, and where any counsel would be dangerous. He who once knows your secret will be in a position to dictate to you. Lord Lackington must be your only adviser, since his peril is the same as your own.' " " Go on," said Davis, sternly, as the other seemed to pause too long. Beecher drew a long breath, and, in a voice faint and broken, con- tinued: "It's a claimant to the title — a fellow who pretends he derives from the elder branch — the Conway Beechers. All stuff and nonsense — they were extinct two hundred years ago— but no matter, the claim is there, and so circumstantially got up, and so backed by documents and the rest of it, that Lackington is fright- ened — frightened out of his wits. The mere exposure, the very rumour of the thing, would distract him. He's proud as Lucifer — and then he's hard up ; besides, he wants a loan, and Dunn tells him there's no getting it till this affair is disposed of, and that he has hit on the way to do it." " As how ?" said Davis, dryly. " "Well," resumed Beecher, whose utterance grew weaker and less audible at every word, "Lackington, you know, has no children. It's very unlikely he ever will, now ; and Dunn's advice is, that for a life interest in the title and estates I should bind myself not to marry. That fellow then, if he can make good his claim, comes in as next of kin after me; and as to who or what comes after me," cried he, with more energy, " it matters devilish little. Once ' toes up,' and Annesley Beecher won't fret over the next match that comes off— eh Grog, old fellow ?" And he endeavoured by a forced jocularity to encourage his own sinking heart. " Here's a shindy !" said Grog, as he mixed himself a fresh tumbler and laid his arms crosswise on the table ; " and so it's no less than the whole stakes is on this match ?" " Title and all," chimed in Beecher. "I wasn't thinking of the title," said Grog, gruffly, as he relapsed into a moody silence. "Now, what does my Lord say to it all?" asked he, after a long pause. " Lackington ? — Lackington says nothing, or next to nothing. You read the passage in his letter where he says, ' Call on Dunn,' or ' speak to Dunn,' or something like that — he didn't even explain 166 BATENPOET BUNS'. about what ; and then you may remember the foolish figure we cut on that morning we waited on Dunn ourselves, not being able to say why or how we were there." " I remember nothing about cutting a foolish figure anywhere, or any time. It's not very much my habit. It ain't my way of bu- siness." " Well, I can't say as much," saidBeecher, laughing; " and I own frankly I never felt less at ease in my life." " That's yowr way of business," said Grog, nodding gravely at him. " Every fellow isn't born as sharp as you, Davis. Samson was a wise man — no, Solomon was a wise man " " Leave Samson and Solomon where they are," said Grog, puffing his cigar. " What we have to look to here, is, whether there be a claim at all, and then what it's worth. The whole affair may be just a cross between this fellow Dunn and one of his own pals. Now it's my Lord's business to see to that. You are only the second horse all this while. If my Lord knows that he can be disqualified, he's wide awake enough to square the match, he is. But it may be that Dunn hasn't put the thing fairly before him. Well, then, you must compare your book with my Lord's. You'll have to go over to him, Beecher." And the last words were uttered with a solemnity that showed they were the result of a deep deliberation. " It's all very well, Master Davis, to talk of going over to Italy ; but where's the tin to come from?" "It must be had somehow," said Davis, sententiously. "Ain't there any fellows about would give you a name to a bit of stiff, at thirty-one days' date ?" "Pumped them all dry long ago!" said Beecher, laughing. " There's not a man in the garrison would join me to spoil a stamp ; and, as to the civilians, I scarcely know one who isn't a creditor already." " Tou are always talking to me of a fellow called Kellett — why not have a shy at him ?" " Poor Paul !" cried Beecher, with a hearty laugh. " Why, Paul Kellett's ruined — cleaned out — sold in the Encumbered what-d'ye- call-'ems, and hasn't a cross in the world !" " I ought to have guessed as much," growled out Grog, " or he'd not have been on such friendly terms with you." " A polite speech that, Grog," said Beecher, smiling. " It's true, and that's better," said Davis. " The only fellows that stick close to a man in his poverty are those a little poorer than him- self." DAVENPOBT DESK. 167 " Not but if he had it," said Beecher, following up his own thoughts — " not but if he had it, he's just the fellow to do a right good' natured thing." " Well, I suppose he's got his name — they haven't sold that, hare they?" " No ; but it's very much like the estate," said Beecher. " It's far too heavily charged ever to pay off the encumbrances." " Who minds that, now-a-days ? A bad bill is a very useful thing sometimes. It's like a gun warranted to burst, and you can always manage to have it in the ' right man's' hands when it comes the time for the explosion." " You are a rum 'un, Davis — you are, indeed," said Beecher, ad- miringly ; for it was in the delivery of such wise maxims that Davis appeared to him truly great. " Get him down for fifty — that ain't much — fifty at three months. My Lord says he'll stand fifty himself, in that letter I read. It was to help you to a match, to be sure ; but that don't matter. There can be no question of marrying now. Let me see how this affair is going to turn. "Well, I'll see if I can't do something myself. I've a precious lot of stamped paper there" — and he pointed to an old secretary — "if I could hit upon a sharp fellow to work it." " Tou are a trump, Grog !" cried Beecher, delightedly. " If we had a clear two hundred, we could start to-morrow," said Grog, laying down his cigar, and Btaring steadfastly at him. " Why, would you come, too ?" muttered Beecher, who had never so much as imagined the possibility of this companionship on the Con- tinent. " I expect I would," said Davis, with a very peculiar grin. " It ain't likely you'd manage an affair like this without advice." " Very true — very true," said Beecher, hurriedly. " But remem- ber, Lackington is my brother — we're both in the same boat." " But not with the same sculls," said Grog. And he grinned a savage grin at the success of his pun. Beecher, however, so far from appreciating the wit, only understood the remark as a sneer at his intelligence, and half sulkily said, " Oh ! I'm quite accustomed to that, now — I don't mind it." " That's right— keep your temper," said Grog, calmly ; "that's the best thing in yow book. Tou're what they call good-tempered. And," added he, in the moralising tone, " though the world does take liberties with the good-tempered fellows, it shies them many a stray favour — many a sly five-pun'-note into the bargain. I've known 168 DATEITPOET ETON. fellows go through life — and make a rare good thing of it, too — with no other stock-in-trade than this same good temper." Beeeher did not pay his habitual attention to Grog's words, but sat pondering over all the possible and impossible objections to a tour in such company. There were times and places where men might be seen talking to such a man as Davis. The betting-ring and the weighing-stand have their privileges, just like the green-room or the " flats," but in neither case are the intimacies of such localities ex- actly of a kind for parade before the world. Of all the perils of such a course none knew better than Beeeher. "What society would think — what clubs would say of it — he could picture to his mind at once. Now, there were very few of life's casualties of which the Honour- able Annesley Beeeher had not tasted. He knew what it was to have his bills protested, his chattels seized, his person arrested ; he had been browbeaten by Bankruptcy Commissioners, and bullied by sheriffs' officers ; tradesmen had refused him credit ; tailors abjured his custom ; he had " burned his fingers" in one or two not very creditable transactions; but still, with all this, there was yet one depth to which he had not descended — he was never seen in public with " a wrong man." He had a jerk of the head, a wink, or a glance for the Leg who met him in Piccadilly, as every one else had. If he saw him in the garden of the Star and Garter, or the Park at Green- wich, he might even condescend to banter him on " looking jolly," and ask what new " robbery" he was in for ; but as to descending to intimacy or companionship openly before the gaze of the world, he'd as soon have thought of playing cad to a 'bus, or sweep at a crossing. It was true the Continent was not Hyde Park — the most strait- laced and well-conducted did fifty things there, they had never ven- tured on at home. Foreign travel had its licence, and a passport was a sort of plenary indulgence for many a social transgression ; but, with all this, there were a few names — about half a dozen in all Europe — that no man could afford to link his own along with. As for Grog, he was known everywhere. Prom Ostend to Odessa his fame extended, and there was scarcely a police prefect in the travelled districts of the Continent who had not a description of his person, and some secret instructions respecting him. From many of the smaller states, whose vigilance is in the ratio of their littleness, he was rigidly excluded ; so that in his journeying through Europe, he was often reduced to a zig-zag and erratic procedure, not unlike the game known to schoolboys as scotch-hop. In the ten minutes- it was not more — that Beeeher passed in rec allin g these and like facts to his memory, his mind grew more and more perplexed ; nor was DATENPOBT DTOIT. 169 the embarrassment unperceived by him who caused it. As Davis sipped and smoked, he stole frequent glances at his companion's face, and strove to read what was passing in his mind. " It may be," thought Grog, " he doesn't see his way to raising the money. It may be that his credit is lower in the market 'than I fancied ; or"— and now his fiery eyes grew fiercer and his lip more tense — " or it may be that he doesn't fancy my company. If I was only sure it was that" muttered he between his teeth ; and had Annesley Beecher only chanced to look at him as he said it, the expression of that face would have left a legacy of fear behind it for many a day. " Help yourself," said Grog, passing the bottle across the table — "help yourself, and the gin will help you, for I see you are ' pounded.' " " Pounded ? no, not a bit ; nothing of the kind," said Beecher, blushing. " I was thinking how Lackington would take all this ; what my Lady would say to it ; whether they'd regard it seriously ; or whether they'd laugh at my coming out so far about nothing." " They'll not laugh, depend on't ; take my word for it, they won't laugh," said Davis, dryly. " "Well, but if it all comes to nothing — if it be only a plant to extort money ?" " Even that ain't anything to laugh at," said Davis. " I've done a little that way myself, and yet I never saw the fellow who was amused by it." " So that you r.eally think I ought to go out and see my brother?" " I'm sure and certain that we must go," said Davis, just giving the very faintest emphasis to the " we." " But it will cost a pot of money, Grog, even though I should travel in the cheapest way — I mean, the cheapest way possible for a fellow as well known as I am." This was a bold stroke ; it was meant to imply far more than the mere words announced. It was intended to express a very compli- cated argument in a mere innuendo. " That's all gammon," said Grog, rudely. " ¥e don't live in an age of couriers and extra-post ; every man travels by rail now-a-days, and nobody cares whether you take a coupe or a horse-box ; and as to being known, so am I, and almost as well known as most fellows going." This was pretty plain speaking; and Beecher well knew that Davis's frankness was always on the verge of the only one thing that was worse than frankness. 170 DAVE1TPOBT DUNN. " After all," said Beeeher, after a pause, " let the journey be ever so necessary, I haven't got the money." " I know you haven't, neither have I ; but we shall get it somehow. You'll have to try Kellett ; you'll have to try Dunn himself, perhaps. I don't see why you shouldn't start with him ; he knows that you ought to confer with my Lord ; and he could scarce refuse your note at three months, if you made it — say — fifty." " But, Grog," said Beeeher, laying down his cigar, and nerving himself for a great effort of cool courage, " what would suffice fairly enough for one, would be a very sorry allowance for two ; and as the whole of my business will be with my own brother — where of neces- sity I must be alone with him — don't you agree with me that a third person would only embarrass matters rather than advance them?" " No !" said Grog, sternly, while he puffed his cigar in measured time^ " I'm speaking," said Beeeher, in a tone of apology — " I'm speak- ing, remember, from my knowledge of Lacking ton. ; he's very high and very proud ; one of those fellows who ' take on' even with their equals ; and with myself, he never forgets to let me feel I'm a younger brother." " He wouldn't take any airs with me," said Grog, insolently. And Beeeher grew actually sick at the bare thought of such a meeting. " I tell you frankly, Davis," said he, with the daring of despair, " it wouldn't do. It would spoil all. First and foremost, Lacking- ton would never forgive me for having confided this secret to any one. He'd say, and not unfairly either, ' What has Davis to do with this ? It's not the kind of case he is accustomed to deal with ; his counsel couldn't possibly be essential here.' He doesn't know," added he, rapidly, " your consummate knowledge of the world ; he hasn't seen, as I have, how keenly you read every fellow that comes before you." " "We start on Monday," said Grog, abruptly, as he threw the end of his cigar into the fire ; " so stir yourself, and see about the bills." Beeeher arose and walked the room with hurried strides, his brow growing darker and his face more menacing at every moment. " Look here, Davis," cried he, turning suddenly round and facing the other, " you assume to treat me as if I was a — schoolboy •" and it was evident that he had intended a stronger word, but had not courage to utter it, for Davis's wicked eyes were upon him, and a bitter grin of irony was already on Grog's mouth as he said, " Did you every try a round with me without getting the worst of it ? Do you remember any time where you came well out of it ? You've been mauled once or twice somewhat roughly, but with the DATENPOET DTJNIT. 171 gloves on — always with the gloves on. Now, take my advice, and don't drive me to take them off— don't! You never felt my knuckles yet — and, by the Lord Harry, if you had, you'd not call out ' encore.' " " Tou just want to bully me," said Beecher, in a whimpering tone. "Bully you — bully you!" said Davis, and his features put on a look of the most intense scorn as he spoke. " Egad !" cried he, with an insolent laugh, " you know very little about either of us." " I'd rather you'd do your worst at once than keep threatening me in this fashion." "No you wouldn't; no — no — nothing of the kind," said Davis, with a mockery of gentleness in his voice and manner. "May I be hanged if I would not!" cried Beecher, passion- ately. "It ain't hanging now — they've made it transportation," said Davis, with a grin; "and them as has tried it says the old way was easiest." And in the slang style of the last words there was a terrible significance — it was as though a voice from the felons' dock was uttering a word of warning. Such was the effect on Beecher, that he sank slowly down into a seat, silent and powerless. " If you hadn't been in this uncommon high style to-night," said Grog, quietly, " I'd have told you some excellent reasons for what I was advising. I got a letter from Spicer this morning. He, and a foreign fellow he calls Count Lienstahl — it sounds devilish like ' lie and steal,' don't it ? — have got a very pretty plant together, and if they could only chance upon a good second-rate horse, they reckon about eight or ten hundred in stakes alone this coming spring. They offer me a share if I could come out to them, and mean to open the campaign at Brussels. Now, there's a thing to suit us all — ' picking for every one,' as they say in the oakum-sheds." " Cochin China might be had for five hundred ; or there's Spotted Snake, they want to sell him for anything he'll bring," said Beecher, with animation. " They could manage five hundred at least, Spicer says. "We're good for about twelve thousand francs, which ought to get us what we're looking for." " There's Anchovy Paste " " Broke down before and behind." " Hop the Twig, own sister to Levanter ; ran second for the Col- chester Cup " " Mares don't answer abroad." " Well, what do you say to Mumps ?" "There's the horse for the Continent. A great heavy-headed, 172 DATENPOET DUNN. thick-jawed beast, with lazy action, and capped hocks. He's the animal to walk into a foreign jockey club. Oh, if we had him !" " I know where he is !" exclaimed Beecher, in ecstasy. " There's a Brummagem fellow driving him through "Wales — a bagman — and he takes him a turn now and then for any county stakes that offer. I'll lay my head on't we get him for fifty pounds." " Come, old fellow," said Grog, encouragingly, " you have your wits about you, after all. Breakfast here to-morrow, about twelve o'clock, and we'll see if we can't arrange the whole affair. It's as sure a five hundred apiece, as if we had it here ;" and he slapped his pockets as he spoke. Beecher shook his friend's hand with a warmth that showed all his wonted cordiality, and with a hearty " Good night !" they separated. Grog had managed cleverly. He had done something by terror, and the rest he had accomplished by temptation. They were the two only impulses to sway that strange temperament. CHAPTER XXI. " A DARK DAY." It was the day appointed for the sale of Kellett's Court, and a con- siderable crowd was assembled to witness the proceeding. Property was rapidly changing hands ; new names were springing up in every county, and old ones were growing obsolete. Had the tide of con- quest and confiscation flowed over the land, a greater social revolu- tion could not have resulted ; and, while many were full of hope and confidence that a new prosperity was about to dawn upon Ireland, there were some who continued to deplore the extinction of the old names, and the exile of the old families, whose traditions were part of the history of the country. Kellett's Court was one of those great mansions which the Irish gentlemen of a past age were so given to building, totally forgetting how great the disproportion was between their house and their rent- roll. Irregular, incongruous, and inelegant, it yet, by its very size and extent, possessed a certain air of grandeur. Eighty guests had sat down to table in that oak-wainscoted dinner-room ; above a hundred had been accommodated with beds beneath that roof; the stables had stalls for every hunting-man that came ; and the servants' DATENPOET DUNN. 173 hall was a great galleried chamber, like the refectory of a convent, in everything save the moderation of the fare. Many were curious to know who would purchase an estate bur- dened by so costly a residence, the very maintenance of which in repair constituted a heavy annual outlay. The gardens, long ne- glected and forgotten, occupied three acres, and were themselves a source of immense expense ; a considerable portion of the demesne was so purely ornamental that it yielded little or no profit ; and, as an evidence of the tastes and habits of its former owners, the ruins of a stand house marked out where races once were held in the park, while hurdle fences and deep drains even yet disfigured the swelling lawn. Who was to buy such a property was the question none could answer. The house, indeed, might be converted into a " Union," if its locality suited ; it was strong enough for a gaol — it was roomy enough for a nunnery. Some averred the Government had decided on purchasing it for a barrack ; others pretended that the sisterhood of the Sacred Heart had already made their bargain for it ; yet to these and many other assertions not less confidently uttered there were as many demurrers. While rumours and contradictions were still buzzed about, the Commissioner took his place on the bench, and the clerk of the Court began that tedious recital of the circumstances of the estate with whose details all the interested were already familiar, and the mere curious cared not to listen to. An informality on a former day had interfered with the sale, a fact which the Commissioner alluded to with satis- faction, as property had risen largely in value in the interval, and he now hoped that the estate would not alone clear off all the charges against it, but realise something for its former owner. A confused murmur of conversation followed this announcement. Men talked in knots and groups — consulted maps and rent-rolls — made hasty calculations in pencil — whispered secretly together, muttering fre- quently the words " Griffith," " plantation measure," "drainage," and "copyhold," and then, in a half- hurried, half-wearied way, the Court asked, " Is there no bidding after twenty-seven thousand five hun- dred?" " Twenty-eight !" said a deep voice near the door. A long, dreary pause followed, and the sale was over. "Twenty-eight thousand!" cried Lord Glengariff; "the house alone cost fifty." " It's only the demesne, my Lord," said some one near; "it's not the estate is sold." 174 DAVENPOET DTJN1T. j " I know it, Sir ; but the demesne contains eight hundred acres, fully wooded, and enclosed by a wall. — Who is it for, Dunn?" asked he, turning to that gentleman. " In trust, my Lord," was the reply. " Of that I am aware, Sir ; you have said as much to the Court." Dunn bent over and whispered some words in his ear. " Indeed !" exclaimed the other, with evident astonishment ; " and intending to reside ?" added he. " Eventually, I expect so," said Dunn, cautiously, as others were now attending to the conversation. Again Lord Glengarifi' spoke, but, ere he had finished, a strange movement of confusion in the body of the Court interrupted him, while a voice hoarse with passionate meaning cried out, " Is the robbery over?^-is it done?" and a large, powerful man, his face flushed, and his eyes glaring wildly, advanced through the crowd to the railing beneath the bench. His waistcoat was open, and he held his cravat in one hand, having torn it off in the violence of his ex- citement. " Who is this man ?" asked the Commissioner, sternly. " I'll tell you who I am— Paul Kellett, of Kellett's Court, the owner of that house and estate you and your rascally miscreants have just stolen from me. Ay, stolen is the word — law or justice have nothing to do with it. Tour Parliament made it law, to be sure, to pamper your Manchester upstarts who want to turn gentlemen " " Does any one know him ? — has he no friends who will look after him ?" said the Commissioner, leaning over and addressing those be- neath in a subdued voice. " Devil a friend in the world ! It's few friends stick to the man whose property comes here. But don't make me out mad. I'm in my full senses, though I had enough to turn fifty men to madness." " I know him, my Lord ; with the permission of the Court, I'll take charge of him," said Dunn, in a tone so low as to be audible only to a few. Kellett, however, was one of them, and he immediately cried out, " Take charge of me ! Ay, that he will. He took charge of my estate, too, and he'll do by me what he did with the property — give a bargain of me !" A hearty burst of laughter filled the hall at this sally, for Dunn was one' of those men whose prosperity always warrants the indul- gence of a sarcasm. The Court, however, could no longer brook the indecorous interruption, and sternly ordered that Kellett might be removed. DATEOTOBT DTJ20T. 175 " My dear Mr. Kellett, pray remember yourself; only recollect •where you are ; such conduct will only expose you " " Expose me ! do you think I've any shame left in me ? Do you think, when a man is turned out to starve on the roads, that he cares much what people say of him ?" " This interruption is intolerable," said the Commissioner. " If he be not speedily removed, I'll order him into the custody of the police." " Do, in God's name," cried Kellett, calmly. " Anything that will keep me from laying hands on myself, or somebody else, will be a charity." " Come with me, Kellett — do come along with me ? " said Dunn, entreatingly. " Not a step — not an inch. It was going with you brought me here. This man, my Lord," cried he, addressing the Court with a wild earnestness — " this man said to me that this was the time to sell a property — that land was rising every day — that if we came into the Court now, it's not twenty, nor twenty-five, but thirty years' pur- chase " " I am sorry, Sir," said the Commissioner, sternly, "that you will give me no alternative but that of committing you ; such continued disrespect of Court cannot longer be borne." " I'm as well in gaol as anywhere else. You've robbed me of my property, I care little for my person. I'll never believe it'B law— never ! Tou may sit up with your wig, and your ushers, and your criers, but you're just a set of thieves and swindlers, neither more nor less. Talk of shame, indeed ! I think some of yourselves might blush at what you're doing. There, there, I'm not going to resist you," said he to the policeman ; " there's no need of roughness. Newgate is the best place for me now. Mind," added he, turning to where the reporters for the daily press were sitting — " mind and say that I just offered a calm protest against the injustice dose me — that I was civilly remonstrating with the Court upon what every man " Ere he could finish, he was quietly removed from the spot, and before the excitement of the scene had subsided, he was driving away rapidly towards Newgate. " Drunk or mad — which was it ?" said Lord Glengariff to Daven- port Dunn, whose manner was scarcely as composed as usual. "He has been drinking, but not to drunkenness," said Dunn, cautiously. "He is certainly to be pitied." And now he drew nigh the bench and whispered a few words to the Commissioner. "Whatever it was that he urged— and there was an air of entreaty 176 DAVENPOBT DTJNN. in his manner — did not seem to meet the concurrence of the judge. Dunn pleaded earnestly, however, and at last the Commis- sioner said, " Let him be brought up to-morrow then, and having made a suitable apology to the Court, we will discharge him." Thus ended the incident, and once more the Clerk resumed his monotonous readings. Townlands and baronies were described, valuations quoted, rights of turbary defined, and an ancient squirearchy sold out of their possessions with as little commotion or excitement as a mock Claude is knocked down at Christie's. Indeed, of so little moment was the scene we have mentioned deemed, that scarcely half a dozen lines of the morning papers were given to its recital. The Court and its doings were evidently popular with the country at large, and one of the paragraphs which readers read with most pleasure, was that wherein it was recorded that estates of immense value had just changed owners, and that the Commissioner had disposed of so many thou sands' worth of landed property within the week. Sweeping measures, of whatever nature they be, have always been in favour with the masses ; never was any legislation so popular as the Guillotine ! Evening was closing in, the gloomy ending of a gloomy day in winter, and Sybella Kellett sat at the window anxiously watching for her father's return. The last two days had been passed by her in a state of feverish uneasiness. Since her father's attendance at the custom-house ceased — for he had been formally dismissed at the be- ginning of the week — his manner had exhibited strange alternations of wild excitement and deep depression. At times he would move hur- riedly about, talking rapidly, sometimes singing to himself, at others, he would sit in a state of torpor for hours. He drank, too, affecting some passing pain or some uneasiness as an excuse for the whisky- bottle, and when gently remonstrated with on the evil consequences, became fearfully passionate and excited. " I suppose I'll be called a drunkard next — there's nothing more likely than I'll be told it was my own sottish habits brought all this ruin upon me. ' He's a sot' — ' He's never sober' — 'Ask his own daughter about him.' " And then, sti- mulating himself, he would become furious with rage. As constantly, too, did he inveigh against Dunn, saying that it was he that ruined him, and that had he not listened to his treacherous counsels, he might have arranged matters with his creditors. From these bursts of passion he would fall into moods of deepest melancholy, accusing his own folly and recklessness as the cause of all his misfortunes, and even pushing self-condemnation so far as to assert that it was his mis- BATENPOET DUNS. 177 conduct and waste had driven poor Jack from home and made him enlist as a soldier. Bella could not but see that his intellect was affected 1 and his judgment impaired, and she made innumerable pretexts, to be ever near him. Now, she pretended that she required air and exercise, that her spirits were low, and needed companionship. Then, she affected to have little purchases to make in town, and asked him to bear her company. At length he showed a restlessness under this restraint that obliged her to relax it ; he even dropped chance words as if he suspected that he was the object of some unusual care and supervision. " There's no need of watching me," said he rudely to her on the morning that preceded the sale ; " I'm in no want of a keeper. They'll see Paul Kellett's not the man to quail under any calamity — the same to-day, to-morrow, and the next day. Sell him out or buy him in, and you'll never know by his face that he felt it." He spoke very little on that morning, and scarcely tasted his breakfast. His dress was more careful than usual, and Bella, half by way of saying something, asked if he were going into Dublin. " Into Dublin ! I suppose I am, indeed," said he, curtly, as though giving a very obvious reply. " Maybe," added he, after a few mi- nutes — " maybe you forget this is the seventeenth, and that this is the day for the sale." " I did remember it," said she, with a faint sigh, but not daring to ask how his presence there was needed. " And you were going to say," added he, with a bitter smile, " what did that matter to me, and that /wasn't wanted. Neither I am— I'm neither seller nor buyer— but still I'm the last of the name that lived there — I was Kellett of Kellett's Court, and there'll never be another to Bay the same, and I owe it to myself to be there to-day — -just as I'd attend a funeral— just as I'd follow the hearse." " It will only give you needless pain, dearest father," said she, soothingly ; " pray do not go." " Faith, I'll go, if it gave me a fit," said he, fiercely. " They may say when they go home, 'Paul Kellett was there the whole time, as cool as I am now ; you'd never believe it was the old family place— the house his ancestors lived in for centuries— was up for sale ; there he was, calm and quiet. If that isn't courage, tell me what is'?' " " And yet I'd rather you did not go, father. The world has trials enough to tax our energies, that we should not go in search of them." 178 DAVENJOBT BtJNST. " That's a woman's way of looking at it," said he, contemptuously. " A man with a man's heart likes to meet danger, just to see how he'll treat it." " But remember, father——" " There, now," Baid he, rising from the table, " if you talked till you were tired, I'd go still. My mind is made up on it." Bella turned away her head and stole her handkerchief to her eyes. " I know very well," burst he in, bitterly, " that the blackguard newspapers to-morrow will just be aB ready to abuse me for it. It would have been more dignified, or more decent, or something or other, if Mr. Kellett had not appeared at the sale; but I'll go, nevertheless, if it was only to see the man that's to take our place there! Wait dinner for me till six, that is, if there's any dinner at all." And with a laugh of bitterest meaning he left the room, and was soon seen issuing from the little garden into the road. "What a sad day, full of gloomy forebodings, was that for her ! She knew well how all the easy and careless humour of her father had been changed by calamity into a spirit fierce and resentful ; that, sus- pectful of insult on every hand, he held himself ever prepared to meet the most harmless remark with words of defiance. An imaginary impression that the world had agreed to scorn him, made him adopt a bearing at once aggressive and offensive ; and he who was once a proverb for good temper, became irritable and savage to a degree. What might not come of such a temperament, tried in its ten- derest spot? What might occur to expose him to the heartless sneers of those who neither knew his qualities nor his trials? These were her thoughts as she walked to and fi:o in her little room, unable to read, unable to write, though she made several attempts to begin a letter to her brother. The dark future also lowered before her, without one flicker of light to pierce its gloom. How were they to live ? In a few days more they would be at the end of their frail resources — something less than two pounds was all that they had in the world. How she envied those in some foreign land who could stoop to the most menial labour, unseen and unremembered by their own. How easily, she thought, poverty might be borne, if divested of the terrible Contrast with a former condition. Could they by any effort raise the means to emigrate— and where to ? Might not Mr. Dunn be the person to give counsel in such a case ? From all she had heard of him, he was conversant with every career, every walk, and every condition. Doubtless he could name the very colony, and the very BATENPOET DUNS. 179 spot to suit them — nor impossible that he might aid them to reach it. If they prospered, they could repay him. They might pledge themselves to such a condition on this head as he would dictate- How, then, to approach him ? A letter? And yet a letter was always so wanting in the great requisite of answering doubts as they arose, and meeting difficulties by ready rejoinder. A personal interview would do this. Then why not ask for an audience of him ? " I'll call upon him at once," said she ; " he may receive me without other solicitation — my name will surely secure me that much of attention." "Would her father approve of such a step ? — would it not appear to his eyes an act of meanness and dependence ? — might not the whole scheme be one to which he would offer opposition ? Erom conflicts like these she came back to the dreary present, and wondered what could still delay his coming. It was a road but little travelled, and, as she sat watching at the window, her eyes grew wearied piercing the hazy at- mosphere, darkening deeper and deeper as night drew near. She en- deavoured to occupy herself in various ways : she made little prepa- rations for his coming — she settled his room neatly, over and over — she swept the hearth, and made a cheerful fire to greet him, and then, passing into the kitchen, she looked after the humble dinner that awaited him. Sis o'clock passed, and another weary hour followed. Seven — and still he came not. She endeavoured to divert her thoughts into thinking of the future she had pictured to herself. She tried to fancy the scenery, the climate, the occupation of that dream-land over the seas, but at every bough that beat against the window by the wind, at every sound of the storm without, Bhe would start up, and hasten to the door to listen. It was now near eight o'clock, and so acute had her hearing become by intense anxiety that she could detect the sounds of a footfall coming along the plashy road. She did not venture to move, lest she should lose the sound, and she dreaded, too, lest it should pass on. She bent down her head to hear, and now, oh, ecstasy of relief ! she heard the latch of the little wicket raised, and the step upon the gravel-walk within. She rushed at once to the door, and, dashing out into the darkness, threw herself wildly upon his breast, saying, "Thank God you are comei Oh! how I have longed for you, dearest, dearest father !" And then as suddenly, with a shriek, cried out, " Who is it f "Who is this ?" " Conway— Charles Conway. A friend— at least one who would wish to be thought so." With a wild and rapid utterance she told him of her long and s 2 180 DAVENPOET DTTHTf. weary watch, and that her fears— mere causeless fears, she said she •knew they were — had made her nervous and miserable. Her father's habits, always so regular and homely, made even an hour's delay a source of anxiety. " And then he had not been well for some days back — circumstances had occurred to agitate him — things preyed upon him more heavily than they had used. Perhaps it was the dreary season — perhaps their solitary kind of life had rendered them both more easily depressed. But, somehow " She could not go on, but, hastening towards the window, pressed her hands to her face. " If you could tell me where I would be likely to hear of him — what are his haunts in town " " He has none — none whatever. He has entirely ceased to visit any of his former friends — even Mr. Beecher he has not called on for months long." " Has he business engagements in any quarter that you know of?" "None now. He did hold an office in the Customs, but he does so no longer. It is possible— just possible — he might have called at Mr. Dunn's, but he could not have been detained there so late as this. And if he were " She stopped, confused and embarrassed. " As to that," said he, catching at her difficulty with ready tact, " I could easily pretend it was my own anxiety that caused the visit. I could tell him it was likely I should soon see Jack again, and ask of him to let me be the bearer of some kind message to him." " Tes, yes," muttered Bella, half vacantly, for he had only given to his words the meaning of a mere pretext. " I think you may trust to me that I will manage the matter de- licately. He shall never suspect that he has given any uneasiness by his absence." "But even this," said she, eagerly, "condemns me to some hours longer of feverish misery. Tou cannot possibly go back to town and return here in less than two — perhaps three hours." " I'll try and do it in half the time," said Conway, rising, and taking his cap. " Where does Mr. Dunn live ?" " In Merrion-square. I forget the number, but it does not matter — every one knows his house. It is on the north side." " Tou shall see me before—— What o'clock is it now ?" " Half-past eight," said she, shuddering, as she saw how late it was. " Before eleven, I promise you confidently — and earlier if I can." " Tou know my father bo very little — so very recently," Baid Sy- DAVENPOET DUNN. 181 bella, with some confusion, " that it may be necessary to guard you — that is, you ought to be made aware that on this day the estate our family has held for centuries was sold. It is true we are no poorer than we were yesterday ; the property we called our own, and from habit believed to be such, had been mortgaged this many a year. "Why or how we ever fancied that one day or other we should be in a position to pay off the encumbrances, I cannot tell you ; but it is true that we did so fancy, and used to talk of that happy event as of one we felt to be in store for us. 'Well, the blow has fallen at last, and demolished all our castle-building ! Like storm-tossed vessels, we saw ships sinking on every side, and yet caught at hope for ourselves. This hope has now left us. The work of this morning has obliterated every trace of ifc. It is of this, then, I would ask you to be mindful when you see my poor father. He has seen ruin coming this many a year — it never came face to face with him till to-day. I cannot tell how he may brave it, though there was a time I could have an- swered for his courage." " Jack Eellett's father could scarcely be deficient in that quality," said Conway, whose flashing eyes showed that it was Jack's sister was uppermost in his mind as he spoke. " Oh !" said she, sorrowfully, " great as the heroism is that meets death on the field of battle, it is nothing to the patient and enduring bravery that confronts the daily ills of life — confronts them nobly, but in humility, neither buoyed up by inordinate hope, nor cast down by despondency, but manfully resolved to do one's best, and, come what may, to do it without sacrifice of self-respect. Thus meeting fate, and with a temper that all the crosses of life have not made irritable nor suspectful, makes a man to my eyes a greater hero than any of those who charge in forlorn hopes, or single-handed rush up the breach torn by grape-shot." Her cheek, at first pale, grew deeper and deeper red, and her dark eyes flashed till their expression became almost wild in brilliancy, when, suddenly checking her passionate mood, she said, " It were better I should go along with you — better, at least, I were at hand. He will bear much from me that he would not endure from another, and I will go." So saying, she hastened from the room, and in a moment came back shawled and ready for the road. " What a night for you to venture out," said Conway; "and I have got no carriage of any kind." "I am well accustomed to brave bad weather, and care nothing for it." S 182 DAVENPOBT BV7TS. " It is raining fearfully, and the waves are washing clear over the low sea-wall," said he, trying to dissuade her. " I have come out here on many such nights; and never the worse for it. Can't yon fancy Jack Kellett's sister equal to more than this?" said she, smiling through all her sadness, as she led the way to the door. And now they were Upon the road, the wild rain and the gusty wind beating against them, tod almost driving them back. So loud the storm that they did not try to speak, but with her arm close locked within his own, Conway breasted the hurricane with a strange sensation of delight he had never known before 1 . Scarcely a word passed between them as they went ,- as the rain beat heavily against her he would try as well as he- could to shelter her; when the cutting wind blew more severely he would draw her arm closer within his own, and yet thus in silence they grew to each other Kke friends of matny a year. A sense of trustfulness, a feelmgof a common object, too, sufficed to establish between them a sentiment to be moulded by the events of after life into anything. Ay, so is' it! Out of these chance affinities grow sometimes the passion of a life, and sometimes the disappointments that embitter existence ! " What a good fortune it was that brought you to my aid to- night," said she; "I had not dared to have come this long road alone." " What a good fortune mine to have even so humble a service to render you. Jack used to talk to me of you, for hours long. Nights just like this have we passed together, be telling me about your habits; and your ways, so that this very incident seems to fit into the story of your life as an every-day occurrence. I know;" continued he, as she seemed to listen attentively, " how yon used to ride orer the mountains at home, visiting wild and out-of-the-way spots ; bow you joined him in his long fishing excursions, exploring the deep mountain gorges while he lingered by the river-side. The very name,B you gave these desolate places — taken from old books of travel— showed me how a spirit of enterprise was in your heart." " Were they not happy days !" murmured she* half to herself. " They must have been," said he, ardently ; a to hear of them has charmed the weariest watches of the night, and made me long to know yqu," " Tes ; but I am not what I was," said she, hastily. " Out of that dreamy, strange existence I have awakened to a world full of its own stern realities. That pleasant indolence has ill prepared me far DATJ3NP0BT DUNN. 183 the road I must travel — and it was selfish, too ! The vulgarest cares of every-day life are higher aims than all the mere soarings of imagi- nation, and of this truth I am only now becoming aware." " But it was for never neglecting those very duties Jack used to praise you ; he said that none save himself knew you as other than the careful mistress of a household." "Poor fellow! ours was an humble retinue, and needed little guidance." " I see," said Conway, " you, are too proud to accept of such esteem as mine ; but yet you can't prevent me offering it." "Have I not told you how I prize your kindness?" said she, gently. " Will you let me think so ?" cried Conway, pressing her arm closely j and again they were silent. Who knows with what thoughts ? How dreary did the streets seem as they entered Dublin. The hazy lamps, dulled by the fast-falling rain, threw a misty light through the loaded atmosphere ; the streets, deserted by all but the very poorest, were silent and noiseless, save for the incessant plash of the rain ; few lights were seen on any side, and all was darkness and gloom. Wearily they plodded onward, Sybella deeply sunk in her own thoughts as to the future, and Conway, too respectful of her feelings to interrupt her, never uttered a word as they went. At last they reached Merrion-square, and after some little search stood at the door of Mr. Davenport Dunn. Sybella drew a heavy sigh as Conway knocked loudly, and muttered to herself, " Heaven grant me good tidings of my father !" DATBNPOET DUNN. CHAPTER XXII. AFTER A DINNER PABTY. Me. Datbnpoet Dunn Bad a dinner party — he entertained the notables of the capital, and a chief secretary, a couple of judges, a poor-law commissioner, and some minor deities, soldier and civilian, formed his company. They were all social, pleasant, and conversa- tional. The country was growing governable, calendars were light, military duty a mere pastime, and they chatted agreeably over remi- niscences of a time — not very remote neither — when Eockites were rife, gaols crammed, and the fatigues and perils of a soldier not inferior to those of actual warfare. " To our worthy host here !" said the Chief Baron, eyeing his claret before the light — and it was a comet vintage — " to our worthy host here are we indebted for most of this happy change." " Under Providence," whispered the oily Dean of the Chapel Eoyal. " Of course, so I mean," said the Judge, with that kind of impa- tience he would have met a needless suggestion in court. " Great public works, stupendous enterprises, and immense expenditure of capital have encountered rebellion by the best of all methods — pros- perity !" " Is it really extinct — has Lazarus died, or is he only sleeping ?" interposed a small, dark-eyed man, with a certain air of determination and a look of defiance that seemed to invite discussion. " I should, at all events, call it a trance that must lead to perfect recovery," said the Chief Secretary. " Ireland is no longer a diffi- culty." " She may soon become something more," said the dark man; " instead of embarrassing your counsels, she may go far towards swaying and controlling them. The energies that were once wasted in factious struggles at home here, may combine to carry on a greater combat in England ; and it might even happen that your statesmen might look back with envy to days of orange-and-green memory." " She would gladly welcome the change you speak of," said the Secretary. BATENPOET DUNN. 185 " I'm not so sure of that, Sir ; you have not already shown your- selves so very tolerant when tried. It is but a few years ago, and your Bar rebelled at the thought of an Irishman being made Master of the Bolls in England, and that Irishman, Plunkett." " I must say," burst in the Attorney-General, fresh from his first session in Parliament and, more still, his first season in town, " this is but a prejudice — an unjust prejudice. I can assert for myself, that I never rose in the House % without experiencing a degree of attention — a deference, in short " " Eminently the right of one whose opinions were so valuable," said the Secretary, bowing blandly, and smiling. " Tou did not lash them too often nor too much, Hutchard," said the dark man. " If I remember aright, you rose once in the session, and that was to move an adjournment." " Ah, Lindley," said the other, good-humouredly, "you are an un- forgiving enemy." Then, turning to the Chief Secretary, he said, "He cannot pardon my efforts, successful as they have been, to enable the Eellows of the "University to marry. He obtained his fellowship as a safe retirement, and now discovers that his im- munity is worth nothing." " I beg pardon," said Lindley ; " I have forgiven you long ago. It was from your arguments in its favour the measure was so long resisted. Tou are really blameless in the matter !" The sharp give and take of these sallies — the fruit of those intima- cies which small localities produce — rather astonished the English officials, and the Secretary and the Commissioner exchanged glances of significant import ; nor was this lost on the Chief Baron, who, to change the topic, suddenly asked, " "Who bought that estate— Kellett's Court, I think they call it- was sold this morning ?" " I purchased it in trust," said Dunn, "for an English peer." " Does he intend ever to reside there ?" " He talks of it, my Lord," said Dunn, "the way men talk of something very meritorious that they mean to do — one day or other." " It went, I hear, for half its value," remarked some one. " A great deal above that, I assure you," said Dunn. " Indeed, as property is selling now, I Bhould not call the price a bad one." " Evidently Mr. Kellett was not of your mind," said the former speaker, laughing. " I'm told he burst into Court to-day and abused every one, from the bench to the crier, called the sale a robbery, and the judge a knave." 186 DAVEOTOBT DTTKIT. " Not exactly that. He did, it is true, interrupt the order of the Court, but the Bale was already concluded. He used very violent language, and so far forgot his respect for the Bench as to incur the penalty of a committal." " And was he committed P" asked the Secretary. " He was ;. but rather as a measure of precaution than punish- ment. The Court suspected him to be insane." Here Sunn leaned over and whispered a few words in the Secretary's ear. " Nor was it without difficulty," muttered he, in a low tone. " He continued to inveigh in the most violent tone against us all ; declared he'd never leave the gaol without a public apology from the Bench ; and, in fact, conducted himself so extravagantly, that I half suspected the judge to be right, and that there was some derangement in the case." " I remember Paul Kellett at the head of the grand jury of his county," said one. " He was high sheriff the first year I went that circuit," said the Judge. " And how has it ended — where is he now ?" whispered the Secretary. " I persuaded him to come home here with me, and after a little calming down he became reasonable and has gone to his own house, but only within the last hour. It was that, my servant whispered me, when he last brought in the wine." "And I suppose, after all," said the Poor-Law Commissioner, " there was nothing peculiar in this instance ; his case was one of thousands." " Quite true, Sir," said Lindley. " Statistical tables can take no note of such-like applicants for out-door relief; all are classified as paupers." " It must be acknowledged," said the Secretary, in a tone of half rebuke, " that the law has worked admirably ; there is but one opinion on that subject in England." " I should be greatly surprised were it otherwise," said Lindley; " I never heard that the Cornish fishermen disparaged shipwrecks !" " Who is that gentleman ?" whispered the Secretary to Sunn. " A gentleman very desirous to be Crown Prosecutor at Mel- bourne," said Sunn, with a smile. " He expresses himself somewhat freely," whispered the other. " Only here, Sir — only here, I assure you. He is our staunchest supporter in lie College." " Of course we shall take Sebastopol, Sir," said a colonel from the DATENPOBT BtrUBT. 187 end of the table. " The Russians are already on half rations, and their ammunition is nigh exhausted." And now ensued a lively discussion of military events, wherein the speakers displayed as much confidence as skill. " It strikes me," said Lindley, " we are at war with the Emperor Nicholas for practising pretty much the same policy we approve of so strenuously for ourselves. He wanted to treat Turkey like an en- cumbered estate. There was the impoverished proprietor, the beg- gared tenantry, the incapacity for improvement — all the hackneyed arguments, in fact, for selling out the Sultan that we employ so triumphantly against the Irish gentleman." "Excuse me," said the Attorney-General, "he wanted to take forcible possession." " Nothing of the kind. He was as ready to offer compensation as we ourselves are when we superannuate a clerk or suppress an office. His sole mistake was, that he proposed a robbery at the unlucky moment that the nation had taken its periodical attack of virtue — we were in the height of our honest paroxysm when he asked us to be knaves ; and hence all that has followed." " You estimate our national morality somewhat cheaply, Sir," said the Commissioner. " As to morals, I think we are good political economists. We buy cheaply, and endeavour at least to sell in the dearest markets." " No more wine, thank you," said the Secretary, rising. " A cup of coffee, with pleasure." It was a part of Davenport Dunn's policy to sprinkle his dinner company with men like Lindley. They were what physicians call a sort of mild irritants, and occasionally very useful in their way ; but, in the present instance, he rather suspected that the application had been pushed too far, and he approached the Secretary in the drawing-room with a kind of half apology for his guest. " Ireland," said he, " has always possessed two species of place- hunters : the one, patiently supporting Government for years, look calmly for the recognition of their services as a debt to be paid ; the other, by an irritating course of action, seem to indicate how vexa- tious and annoying they may prove if not satisfactorily dealt with. Lindley is of these, and he ought to be provided for." " I declare to you, Dunn," said the Secretary, as he drew his arm within the other's, and walked with him into the back drawing-room, "these kind of men make government very difficult in Ireland. There is no reserve — no caution about them. They compromise one 188 DAVEOTOET DUNN. at every step. You are the only Irishman I ever met who would seem to understand the necessity of reserve." Dunn bowed twice. It was like the acknowledgment of what he felt to be a right. " I go further," said the other, warming ; "you are the only man here who has given us real and effective support, and yet never asked for anything." " What could I wish for better than to see the country governed as it is ?" said Dunn, courteously. " All are not inspired so patriotically, Dunn. Personal advantages have their influence on most men." " Of course — naturally enough. But I stand in no need of aid in this respect. I don't want for means. I couldn't, if you offered it, take office ; my hands are too full already, and of work which another might not be able to carry out. Bank, of course — distinction " and he stopped, and seemed confused. " "Well, come, we might meet you there, Dunn," said the other, coaxingly. " Be frank with me. What do you wish for ?" " My family is of humble origin, it is true," said Dunn ; " but without invidious reflection, I might point to some others " Again he hesitated. " That need not be an obstacle," said the Secretary. " Well, then, on the score of fortune, there are some poorer than myself in — in " He stopped again. "Very few as wealthy, I should say, Dunn — very few indeed. Let me only know your wishes. I feel certain how they will be treated." " I am aware," said Dunn, with some energy, "that you incur the risk of some attack in anything you would do for me. I am neces- sarily in scant favour with a large party here. They would assail you, they would vilify me; but that would pass over. A few weeks —a few months at furthest " " To be sure — perfectly correct. It would be mere momentary clamour. Sir Davenport Dunn, Baronet, would survive " " I beg pardon," said Dunn, in a voice tremulous with emotion, " I don't think I heard you aright ; I trust, at least, I did not." The Secretary looked quickly in his face, and saw it pale, the lips slightly quivering, and the brow contracted. " I was saying," said he, in a voice broken and uncertain, " that I'm sure the Premier would not refuse to recommend you to her Ma- jesty for a baronetcy." DATENPOET BTHlf. 189 " May I make so bold as to ask if you have abeady held any con- versation with the Minister on this subject ?" " None whatever. I assure you most solemnly that I have no in- structions on the subject, nor have I ever had any conversation with him on the matter." " Then let me beg you to forget what has just passed between us. It is, after all, mere chit-chat. That's a Susterman's, that por- trait you are looking at," said he, eager to change the topic. " It is said to be a likeness of Bianca Capello." "A very charming picture indeed ; purchased, I suppose, in your last visit abroad ?" " Tes ; I bought it at Verona. Its companion, yonder, was a pre- sent from the Archduke Stephen, in recognition, as he was gracious enough to call it, of some counsels I had given the Government en- gineers about drainage in Hungary. Despotic Governments, as we like to term them, have this merit, at least — they confer acts of muni- ficent generosity." The Secretary muttered an assent, and looked confused. -" I reaped a perfect harvest of crosses and decorations," continued Dunn, " during my tour. I have got cordons from countries I should be puzzled to point out on the map, and am a Noble in almost every land of Europe but my own." " Ours is the solitary one where the distinction is not a mere title," said the other, " and consequently there are graver considerations about conferring it than if it were a mere act of courtesy." " "Where power is abeady acqubed there is often good policy in legitimatising it," said Dunn, gravely. "They say that even the Church of Rome knows how to affiliate a heresy. — Well, Clowes, what is it ?" asked he of the butler, who stood awaiting a favourable moment to address him. He now drew nigh, and whispered some words in his ear. " But you said I was engaged — that I had company with me ?" said Dunn, in reply. " Tes, Sb, but she persisted in saying that if I brought up her name you would certainly see her, were it but for a moment. This is her card." " Miss Kellett," said Dunn to himself. "Very well. Show her into the study, I will come down. — It is the daughter of that unfortunate gentleman we were speaking of a while ago,' ' said he, showing the card. " I suppose some new disaster has befallen him. Will you excuse me for a moment ?" 190 DAV3HJP0BT DOTSM. As Dunn slowly descended the stains, a very strange conflict was at work within him. iTom his very boyhood there had possessed him a stern sentiment of vengeance against the Kellett family. It was the daily lesson his father repeated to him. It grew with his yeare, and vague and unmeaning as it appeared, it had the force of an in- stinct. His own memory failed him as to all the circumstances of an early insult, but enough remained to make him know that he had been ignominiously treated, and expelled from the house. In the great] career of his life, with absorbing cares and high interests around him, he had little time for such memories, but in moments of solitude or of depression the thought would come up, and a sense of vindictive pleasure fill him, as he remembered, in the stern words of his father, where was he, and where were they f In the protec- tion he had that very day assumed to throw over Kellett in the Court, there was the sentiment of an insolent triumph ; and here was again the daughter of the once proud man supplicating an in- terview with him. These were his thoughts as he entered the room where Sybella Kellett was standing near the fire. She had taken off her bonnet, and as her long hair fell down, and her dripping clothes clung to her, the picture of poverty and destitution her appearance conveyed revolted against the sentiment which had so lately filled him, and it was in a voice of gentle meaning he asked her to be seated. " Can you tell me of my father, Sir ?" said she, eagerly, and not heeding his words ; " he left home early this morning, and has never returned." " I can tell you everything, Miss Kellett," said he, in a kind voice. " It will reassure you at once when I say he is well. Before this he is at home again." The young girl clasped her hands closely, and her pale lips mur- murmed some faint words. " In a moment of excitement this morning, he said something to offend the Court. It was an emergency to try a calmer temper per- haps than his ; indeed, he ought not to have been there ; at all events, he was betrayed into expressions which could not be passed over in mere silence, and he was committed " " To prison?" said she, faintly. " Tes, he was taken into custody, but only for a few hours. I ob- tained his release soon after the Court rose. The difficulty was to make him accept of his liberation. Far from having calmed down, his passion had only increased, and it was only after much entreaty DAVENPOBT DTT1W. 191 that he consented to leave the gaol and come here with me. In fact, it was under the pretence of drawing up a formal protest against his arrest that he did come, and he has been employed in this manner till about an hour ago, when one of my clerks took charge of him to convey him home. A little quietness and a little rest will restore him perfectly, however, and I have no doubt to-morrow or next day will leave no trace of this excitement." " Tou have been most kind," said she, rising, " and I am very grateful for it. We owe much to you already, and this last but in- creases the debt." Dunn stood silently contemplating her, as she replaced her bonnet and prepared for the road. At last he said, " Have you come all this way on foot and alone P" " On foot, but not alone ; a comrade of my brother's, a fellow-sol- dier of bis, kindly gave me his escort. He is waiting for me now without." " Oh, then, the adventure has had its compensation to a certain degree," said Dunn, with a smile of raillery. " Either I do not understand you, or you mistake me, which] is it ?" said she, boldly. " My dear young lady," said Dunn, hastily, " do not let me offend you. There is everything in what you have done this night to secure you respect and esteem. "We live in a time when there is wonder- fully little of personal devotion ; and common-place men like myself may well misjudge its sacrifices." " And yet it is precisely from you I should have expected the reverse. If great minds are tainted with littleness, where are we to look for high and noble sentiments ?" She moved towards the door as she spoke, and Dunn, anticipating her, said, " Do not go for a moment ; let me offer you some refreshment, even a glass of wine. Well then, your friend ? It is scarcely cour- teous to leave him outside in such weather." " Pray forgive me not accepting your offer ; but I am impatient to be at home again. My father, too, will be distressed at my absence." " But I will send my carriage with you ; you shall not walk," said he, ringing the bell. " Do not think me ungrateful, but I had rather return as I came. Tou have no idea, Sir, how painfully kindness comes to hearts like ours. A sense of pride sustains us through many a trial ; break down this, and we are helpless." 192 BATENPOET DTTNN. " Is it that you will accept nothing at my hands — even the most common-place of attentions ? "Well, I'll try if I cannot be more for- tunate elsewhere ;" and so saying, he hurried at once from the room. Before Sybella could well reflect on his words, he was back again, followed by Charles Conway. " Miss Kellett was disposed to test your Crimean habits again, my good fellow," said Dunn, " by keeping you out there under this terrible rain, and I perceive you have got some rough treatment already;" and he looked at the armless sleeve of his jacket. " Yes," said Conway, laughing, " a piece of Eussian politeness!" Few as were the words, the tone and manner of the speaker struck Dunn with astonishment, and he said, " Have you been long in the service ?" " Some years," was the short reply. " It's very strange," said Dunn, regarding him fixedly, "but your features are quite familiar to me. Tou are very like a young officer who cut such a dash here formerly — a spendthrift fellow, in a Lancer regiment." " Pray don't involve yourself in any difficulty," said Conway, " for, perhaps — indeed, I'm convinced — you are describing myself." " Conway, of the Twelfth ?" " The same, at your service — at least, in so far as being ruined and one-armed, means the same with the fellow who had a good fortune and two hands to scatter it." " I must go. I'm impatient to be away," said Sybella, eagerly. " Then there is the carriage at the door," said Dunn. " This time I have resolved to have my way ;" and he gave her his arm cour- teously to conduct her. "Could you call upon me to-morrow — could you breakfast with me, Mr. Conway ?" said Dunn, as he gave him his hand at parting ; " my request is connected with a subject of great importance to your- self." " I'm your man," Baid Conway, as he followed Sybella into the carriage. And away they drove. DAVENPOBT DTTNIT. 193 CHAPTBE XXIII. A BREAKFAST-TABLE. "When, punctual to the appointed time, Charles Conway presented himself at Mr. Dunn's door, he learned to his astonishment that that gentleman had gone out an hour before to breakfast with the Chief Secretary in the Park. " But I came by invitation to breakfast with your master," said he. " Possibly so," said Clowes, scanning the simply-clad soldier before him. " He never mentioned it to me, that's all I know." Conway stood for a moment, half uncertain what to.say ; then, with a quiet smile, he said, " Pray tell him that I was here— my name is Conway." " As to the breakfast part of the matter," said Clowes, who felt " rather struck" by something in the soldier's manner, as he after- wards expressed it, " I'm just about to x take mine — you might as well join me." Conway looked him full in the face — such a stare was it as a man gives when he questions the accuracy of his own senses ; a slight flush then rose to his cheek, and his lip curled, and then, with a saucy laugh, that seemed to combat the passing irritation he was suffering, he said, " It's not a bad notion after all ; I'm your man." Now, though Mr. Clowes had anticipated a very different reception to his politeness, he said nothing, but led the way into his sanctum, trusting to the locality and its arrangement to have their due effect upon his guest. Indeed, in this respect, he did but fair justice to the comforts around him. 1 The breakfast-table, placed close to a cheerful fire, was spread with every luxury of that meal. A small spirit lamp burned under a dish of most appetising cutlets, in the midst of various kinds of bread, and different sorts of preserves. The grateful odour of mocha mingled with the purer perfume of fresh flowers, which, although in mid- winter, were never wanting at Mr. Clowes' s breakfast-table, while in the centre rose a splendid pineapple, the first of the season, duly offered by the gardener to the grand vizier of Davenport Dunn. " I can promise you a better breakfast than he would have given you," said Clowes, as he motioned his guest to a seat, while he signi- ficantly jerked his thumb towards Dunn's study. " Se takes tea and 194 DiVEHPOET uraw. dry toast, and he quite forgets to order anything else. He has some crank or other about beginning the day with a light meal — quite a mistake — don't you think so ?" " This is not the most favourable moment to make me a convert to that opinion," said Conway, laughing. "I must confess I incline to your side of the controversy." "There are herrings' there,"" said Clowes, " arid a spatchcock coming. Zousee," continued he, returning to the discission, "he overworks — he does too much — ^teases, hie powers beyond ijhek strength — beyond any Mian's strength;" and here Mr. Clowes threw himself hack ia his chair, and looked pompously before him, as though to say, .Even •Clowes wouldn't have eomstitutkffl. for whs* he does. — " A mam must have his natural rest, Sir, s and hk statural support ;" andin evidence of the last he jser-helped himself to the Straehurg pate. " Tour words are wisdom, and washed down witih sueh Bordeaux I'd like to see whe'd gainsay them," -saidConway, with a droll twinkle of the eye. "Better coffee ifabat;'I fancy, OktiM you got in the ' know of one, in wkom; I have the fullest reliance," said Conway, rising hastily. " I'll go for him at once." " Lose not a moment, then," said Bella, as she> took the place he had just vacated, and placed her hand on. her father's, as Conway had. done.. Kellett's glance slowly followed Conway to the door; and then! tamed Mly in Bella's face,, while, with a voice of a thrilling- distinct- ness,, he said, "Too laite, darting — too late !" The tears gushed from Bella's eyes, and her lips trembled, brat she never uttered a word, but sat silent and motionless as before; Kellett's eyes were now bent upon her fixedly, with an expressum of deep and affectionate interest; and he slowly dtew his hand from beneath hers, and placed his arm around, her;. " 1 wish, he was- come, darling," said he, at last. " Who, papa £— the doctor ?" asked Bella,. "The doctor! — no, not the doctor;" said he, sighing heavily. " It is poor Jack yon are thanking of?" said she, affectionately. "Poor,, sure enough," muttered he; "we're all poor now." And an inexpressible misery was in. his face as he spoke. Bella wished to speak words of comfort and encouragement ; she longed to< tell him that she was ready and willing to devote herself to him — that in. a little time, and by a little effort on their pari, their chamged fortunes would cease to fret them — that they would learn to see how much of real happiness can consist with, narrow means, but she knew not in what spirit her words might be accepted; a chance phrase, an accidental expression,, might jar upon some excited feeling and only irritate where it was meant to soothe,, and so she only pressed her laps to his hand and was silent. The sick man's head gradually declined lower and lower; his breath- ing' grew heavier, and he slept. The long dressy day dragged on its weary hours, and still Sybella sat by her father's side watching and. waiting. It was already dusk, when a carriage stopped at the little gate and. Conway got out r and was quickly followed by another, "The doctor at last," muttered Sybella, gently moving from, her place ; and Kellett awoke and looked art him. Conway had barely time to whisper the name of the physician in Bella's ear, when Sir Maurice Dashwood entered. There was none, of the solemn gravity of the learned doctor — mone of the: catlike stealthiness of the fashionable practitioner in his apjwoaeb. Sir Maurice: advanced like a man entering a drawing-room before a dinner party, easy, confident, and affable. He addressed, a few 200 DAVENPOET DTTNIT. words to Miss Kellett, and then placing Ms chair next her father's, said, " I hope my old brother officer doesn't forget me. Don't yon re- member Dashwood of the 43rd ?" " The wildest chap in the regiment," muttered Kellett, " though he was the surgeon. Did you know him, Sir ?" " I should think I did," said the Doctor, smiling; "he was a great chum of yours, wasn't he ? Tou messed together in the Pyrenees for a whole winter." " A wild chap — could never come to any good," went on Kellett to himself. " I wonder what became of him." " I can tell you, I think. Meanwhile, let me feel your pulse. No fixed pain here," said he, touching the region of the heart. "Look fully at me. Ah, it is there you feel it," said he, as he touched the other's forehead ; " a sense of weight rather than pain, isn't it ?" " It's like lead I feel it," said Kellett, " and when I lay it down I don't think I'll ever be able to lift it up again." " That you will, and hold it high, too, Kellett," said the Doctor, warmly. " Tou must just follow my counsels for a day or two, and we shall see a great change in you." " I'll do whatever you bid me, but it's no use, doctor ; but I'll do it for her sake there." And the last words were in a whisper. " That's spoken like yourself, Kellett," said the other, cheerily. " Now let me have pen and ink." As the doctor sat down to a table, he beckoned Bella to his side, and writing a few words rapidly on the paper before him, motioned to her to read them. She grasped the chair as she read the lines, and it shook beneath her hand, while an ashy pallor spread over her features. " Ask him if I might have a little brandy-and-water, Bella," said the sick man. " To be sure you may,'* said Sir Maurice ; " or, better still, a glass of claret ; and it so happens I have just the wine to suit him. Con- way, come back with me, and I'll give you a half-dozen of it." " And is there nothing — is there no " Bella could utter no more, when a warning of the doctor's hand showed that her father's eyes were on her. " Come here, Bella," said he, in a low tone, " come here to me. There's a pound in my waistcoat-pocket, in my room ; put a shilling inside of it, for it's a guinea he ought to have, and gold by rights, if we had it. And tell him we'll send for him if we want to see him again. Do it delicately, darling, so as not to let him know. Say DAVETTPOBT DUNN. 201 I'm used to these attacks ; say they're in the family ; say But there they are driving away — they're off! and he never waited for his fee ! That's the strangest thing of all." And so he fell a-thinking over this curious fact, muttering from time to time to himself, " I never heard of the like before." OHAPTEE XXIV. THE COTTAGE. Dayenpobt Dunn had but little leisure to think about Conway or poor Kellett. A change of Ministry had just occurred in England, and men's minds were all eagerly speculating who was " to come in." Crowds of country gentlemen flocked up to Dublin, and " rising men" of all shades of opinion anxiously paraded their own claims to notice. Dunn's house was besieged from morning to night by visitors, all firmly persuaded that he must know more of the coming event than any one. Whether such was really the case, or that he deemed it good policy to maintain the delusion, Dunn affected a slight indis- position, and refused to admit any visitor. Mr. Clowes, indeed, informed the inquirers that it was a mere passing ailment — "a slight derangement in the bronchiae," he said ; but he rigidly main- tained the blockade, and suffered none to infringe it. Of course a hundred rumours gave their own version of this illness. It was spleen ; it was indignation ; the Government had thrown him over ; he had been refused the Secretaryship which he had formerly applied for. Others averred that his attack was most serious — an ossification or a schirrous of some cartilage, a thing always fatal and dreadfully painful. Some went further. It was his prosperity was in peril. Over-speculation had jeopardised him, and he was deep in the " Credit Mobilier." Now all this while the disappointed poli- tician, the hopeless invalid, and the ruined speculator, ate and drank well, received and wrote replies to innumerable confidential notes from those in power, and carefully drew up a list of such as he desired to recommend to the Government for place and employment. Every morning Sir Maurice Dashwood's well-appointed cab drew up at his door, and the lively baronet would dash up the stairs to Dunn's room with all the elasticity of youth, and more real energy than is the fortune of one young fellow in a thousand. "With a consum- mate knowledge of men and the world, he was second to none in 202 DAVEHTOBT DUIfH. hia profession. He felt he> could' afford, to indulge tie: gay and buoyant spirits, with which Nature Etadi blessed him, and even, doctoB that he was; take> his share in all the sports of the field and all the pleasures' of society.. " "Well, Dunn," cried he, gaily, one morning-, as he entered the carefully darkened room where the other sat, surrounded with papers and deep in affairs, " I think you may accept your bill of health, and come out of dock to-morrow. They are gazetted now, and the world as wise as yourself." "So I mean to do," said. Dunn. a l. Intend to dine with the Chancellor. What is said about the new Government ?" " Very little. There is realty little to say. They are nearly the same pieces, only placed differently oa the board. This trumpery cry about ' right men in right places ' will lead to all kinds of confusion, since it will eternally suggest, choice, which, in plain mads, means, newspaper dictation-'''' "As good as any other dictation.: better,, in one respect,, for. it so- often, recants its judgments," said. Dunn, sarcastically. " Well, they are unanimous about, yoit this morning. They are all eagerly inquiring in what way the Government propose to re- cognise the services, of one of the. ablest men and most disinterested patriots of our day." " I don't want" anything from them," said Dunn, testily, and. walk- ing; to the window to. avoid the keen, sharp glance the other bent upon him. "The best way to. get it when, you ^awaat," said Dashwood, "By the way, whatfa our new Viceroy like, S" " A very good appointment indeed," said Duan, gravely. " Oh, I don't mean that, I want, to know what he: is personally ; m he Btiff, haughty, grave, gay„ stand-off, or affable ?" " I should say, from what I have seen of Lord Allington, that he is one of those men who are grave without sadness " " Come, come, never mind the antithesis ; doeahe care far society? does, he like sport ? is he free-handed.? or has he only come here with the traditional policy,, to ' drain Ireland*?' " " You'll like him much," said Dunn, in his. natural voice, " and he'll like ^aw." Sir Maurice smiled, as though to say, " I could answer as much for myself;" and then, asked, " Have yon known him long ?" " No; that is, not very long," said. Dunn, hesitating, "nor very intimately.. "Why do you ask ?" " Just because I want to get something — at once, too. There's a DAYBKPOKE BUSS., poor fellow, a patient of mine now — we were- brother officers once — in a very sad way. Your friends of the Encumbered Court have just been selling him out, and by the shock they have so stunned him, that his brain has been attacked >• at present it does not seem so for- midablei but it will end in softening, and all the rest of it. Now,, if they'd make him something at once— quickly it must be — he could drop- out on some small retired allowance ; — anything, in short, that would support him." " But, what is it to be ?" asked Dunn. " "Whatever you like to make him. It can scarcely be a bishop, for he's not in orders ; nor a judge,, for he was not called! to the Bar ; but why not a commissioner of something ? you have them for all pur- poses and of all degrees." "You take a low estimate of commissionersbipsy I perceive," said Dunn, smiling- " They are row-boats, where tw© or three pull, and the rest only dip their oars, But come, promise me you'll look to this ; take a note of the name — Paul Kellett, a man of excellent family,, and once with a large landed property." ' " I know him," said. Dtnam, with a pecmliar significance. " And know nothing to- his disadvantage, I'm certain. He was a good oflicer and a kind-hearted fellow, whom we all liked. And there he is now," added he, after a pause, "with a charming girl — his daughter — and I really don't beMeve they have a five^pound note in the world. You must do this for me; Dunn. I'm bent upon it !" " I'll see -what can be done about it. Anything like a job is always a difficulty." " And everything is : a job here, Dunn, and no man knows better how to deal with one." And so saying, and with a pleasant laugh, the gay-hearted doctor hurried away, to carry hope, and some portion at least of his own cheery nature, into many a darkened sick-room. Though several names were announced withvpressing entreaties for an audience, Dunn would see no one. He continued to walk up and down the room deep in thought, and seemed resolved that none should interrupt him. There were events enough to occupy, cases enough to engage Mm — high- questions of policy, deep matters of interest, all that can stimulate ambition, all that can awaken energy — and yet, amidst all, where were his thoughts straying ? They were away to the years of his early boyhood, when he had been Paul Kellett'a playfellow, and when he was admitted — a rare honour — to the little dinner of the nursery !' What a strange thing it was that it was " there and then" his first studies of life and character should 204 DAVENPOBT DXTNIT. have been made ; that it was there and then he first moulded himself to the temper and ways of another ; conforming to caprices, and tending to inclinations not his own. Stern tyrants were these child masters ! how they did presume upon their high station ! how severely did they make him feel the distance between them, and what arts did they teach him ! what subtle devices to outwit their own impe- riousness and give him the mastery over them ! To these memories succeeded others more painful still, and Dunn's brow contracted and his lips became tight-drawn as he recollected them. " I suppose even my father would allow that the debt is acquitted now," muttered he to himself. " I'll go and see them !" said he, after a moment ; " such a sight will teach me how far I have travelled in life." He gently descended a private stair that led to the garden, and passing out by the stables, soon gained the street. "Walking rapidly on to the first stand, he engaged a car, and started for Clontarf. If Davenport Dunn never gave way to a passion for revenge in life, it was in some sort because he deemed it a luxury above his means. He often fancied to himself that the time might come when he could indulge in this pleasure, just as now he revelled in a thousand others, which once had seemed as remote. His theory was, that he had not yet attained that eminence whence he could dispense with all aid, and he knew not what man's services at any moment might be useful to him. Still, with all this, he never ceased to enjoy whatever of evil for- tune befel those who even in times past had injured him. To measure their destiny with his now, was like striking a balance with Pate— a balance so strong in his favour ; and when he had not actually contri- buted to their downfal, he deemed himself high-minded, generous, and pure-hearted. It was reflecting in this wise he drove along, and at last drew up at Kellett's door; his knock was answered by Sybella herself, whose careworn features and jaded look scarcely reminded him of her appearance as first he saw her, flushed and excited by exercise. " I thought I'd come myself and ask after him," said Dunn, as he explained the object of his visit. " He has scarcely consciousness enough to thank you," said she, mournfully, " but Jam very grateful to you ;" and she preceded him into the room, where her father sat in the self-same attitude as before. " He doesn't know me," whispered Dunn, as the sick man's gaze was turned to him without the slightest sign of recognition — " he doesn't know me!" DAVENPOBT DTON. 205 " I do. I know you well, Davenport Dunn, and I know why you come here," said Kellett, with a distinctness that startled them both. " Leave us alone together, Bella, darling, we want to talk privately." Sybella was so astounded at this sudden show of intelligence, that she scarcely knew how to take it, or what to do ; but at a gesture from Dunn, she stepped noiselessly from the room, and left them together. " Tou must not excite yourself, Kellett, nor prejudice your pros- pect of recovery by any exertion ; there will be time enough for matters of business hereafter " " No there won't; that's the reason I want to talk to you now," said Kellett, sharply. "I know well enough my time is short here." Dunn began some phrase of cheering meaning, but the other stopped him abruptly, and said : " There, there, don't be losing time that way. Is that the touch of a man long for this world ?" and he laid on the other's hand his own hot and burning fingers. " I said I knew why you came iere, Dunn," continued he, more strongly ; " it was to look at your work. Ay, just so. It was you brought me to this, and you wanted to see it. Turn your eyes round the room, and you'll see it's poor enough. Look in at that bedroom there, and you'll say it couldn't be much more humble ! • I pawned mywatch yesterday ; there's all that's out of it;" and he showed some pieces of silver and copper mixed together in the palm of his hand ; " there's not a silver spoon left, so that you see you've done it .well !" " My dear Kellett, these words of yours have no meaning in them " " Maybe not ; but maybe you understand them for all that ! Look here now, Dunn,V said he, clutching his hand in his own feverish grasp ; " what the, Child begins the Man finishes! I know you well, and I've watched you for many a year. All your plans and schemes never deceived me; but it's a house of cards you're building after all ! "What I knew about you as a boy others may know as a man ; and I wouldn't believe St. Peter if he told me you only did it once !" " If this be not raving, it is a deliberate insult !" muttered Dunn, sternly, while he rudely pushed away the other's hand, and drew back his chair. " "Well, it's not raving, whatever it is," said Kellett, calmly. " The cold air of the earth that's opening for me, clears my brain, and I know well the words I'm saying, and the warning I'm giving you. Tell the people fairly that it's only scheming you were ; that the .206 MTENH3BT DUSTS'. companies are ;a bubble and the feu&ks a sham ; that you're only juggling this man's credit against that, making the people think that you have ite rconidence of the Grovernment, and the OoTernment believe that you can do "what you iKkewith the people. G-o at .once and publish it, that you are only cheating tkem said he 4o "Che carman, -pointing in the direction of the low shore, where his tfatiber lived-, iK drive your best pace." Then, suddenly changing his mind, he said, a No, to town. 1 " ■" Is he genie, Bella f *aid 'Kellett, as his daughter entered. " Yes ; and before I could thank him for his coming." " I think I said-enough," said fee, 'with .amerce laugh, which made her suddenly turn -and look at "hhn. It was all sfee could do to repress a sudden cry of %orror, for one -side of his faoe«waa (distorted %y palsy, and 1ihe mouth drawn all awry. DiTOSTPOBT DOTS. 207 " What's this here, Bella ?" Baid he, trying to touch his cheek with his hand ; " a kind of stiffness— a sort of Eh, are you crying, darling?" ' " No ; it was something in my eye pained me," said she, turning away to hide her face. " Give me a looking-glass, quickly," cried he. " No, no," said she, forcing a laugh ; " you hare not shaved these two days, and you are quite negleefced-lookiDg. You shan't see your- self in such >a istate." •" Bring it this minute, I say," .said he, passionately, and in a voice that grew less and less articulate every moment. " Now pray be patient, dearest papa." •" Then I'll go for it myself?" and with ithese words he grasped the arm of the chair and tried to rise. " There, there," said she, -softly forcing him back into his .seat, " I'll fetcfe it at once, I wish you would be persuaded, dear papa " began she, still holding the iglass in her hands. But he snatched it rudely from her, and placed it before him. '" That's what it is," said he, at last ; ■" handsome Paul Kellett they used to call me at Corfu. I wonder what they'd ;say now." " It is a mere passing thing, a spasm of some kind." *' Ay," said he, with a mocking laugh, to which the distortion im- parted a shocking expression. " Both sides will be the same — to- morrow or next day — I know that." She could hear mo more, hut cowering her face with her hands, sobbed bitterly. Kellett still continued to look at himself in the iglass, and whether the contortion was produced toy the malady or a passing emotion, & half-sardonic laugh was on his features as he said, " I was wrong when I said I'd never be «fhapfallen." 208 DAV3SITPOET DTOIT. CHAPTBE XXV. A CHURCHYARD. Theee come every now and then, in our strange climate, winter days which imitate spring, with softened sunlight, .glistening leaves, and warbling birds ; even the streams unite in the delusion and run clearly along with eddying circles, making soft music among the stones. These delicious intervals are full of pleasant influences, and the garden breath that floats into the open drawing-room brings hope as well as health on its wings. It was on such a morning a little funeral: procession entered the gateway of the ruined church at Eel- lester, and wound its way towards an obscure corner where an open grave was seen. With the exception of one solitary individual, it was easy to perceive that they who followed the coffin were either the hired mourners, or some stray passers-by indulging a sad curiosity in list- lessness. It was poor Kellett's corpse was borne along, with Conway walking after it. The mournful task over, and the attendants gone, Conway lin- gered about among the graves, now reading the sad records of surviv- ing affection — now stopping to listen to the high-soaring lark whose shrill notes vibrated in the thin air. " Poor Jack !" thought he, aloud ; " he little knows the sad office I have had this morning. He always was talking of home and coming back again, and telling his dear father of all his campaigning adventures ; and so much for anti- cipation — beneath that little mound of earth lies all that made the Home he dreamed of ! He's almost the last of the Albueras," said he, as he stood over the grave ; and at the same time a stranger drew near the spot, and, removing his hat, addressed him by name. " Ah ! Mr. Dunn, I think ?" said Conway. " Yes," said the other; "I regret to see that I am too late. I wished to pay the last tribute of respect to our poor friend, but «n- fortunately all was over when I arrived." " Tou knew him intimately, I believe ?" said Conway. " Prom boyhood," said Dunn, coughing, to conceal some embar- rassment. " Our families were intimate ; but of him, personally, I saw little ; he went abroad with his regiment, and when he returned, it was to live in a remote part of the country, so that we seldom met." DATENPOET JtVSS. 209 " Poor fellow," muttered Conway, "he does seem to have been well-nigh forgotten by every one. I was alone here this morning 1" " Such is life !" said Dunn. " But such ought not death to be," rejoined Conway. " A gallant old soldier might well have been followed to his last billet by a few friends or comrades ; but he was poor, and that explains all !" " That is a harsh judgment from one so young as you are." " No ; if poor Kellett had fallen in battle, he had gone to his grave with every honour to his memory ; but he lived on in a world where other qualities than the soldier's are valued, and he was forgotten, that's the whole of it!" " We must think of the daughter now ; something must be done for her," said Dunn. " I have a plan about that, if you will kindly aid me with it," said Conway, blushing as he spoke. " You are aware, perhaps, that Jack Kellett and I were comrades. He saved my life, and risked, his own to do it, and I owe him more than life in the cheery, hearty spirit he in-, spired me with, at a time when I was rather disposed to sulk with the whole world, so that I owe him a heavy debt." Here he faltered, and at last stopped, and it was only as Dunn made a gesture to him to continue, that he went on. " "Well, I have a dear, kind old mother living all alone in Wales, not over well off, to be sure, but quite able to do a kind thing, and fully as willing. If Miss Kellett could be induced to come and stay with her — it might he called a visit at first — time would gradually show them how useful they were to each other, and they'd find they needn't — they couldn't separate.. That's my plan, will you support it ?" " I ought to tell you, frankly, that I have no presumption to counsel Miss Kellett. I never saw her till the night you accompa- nied her to my house ; we are utter strangers to each other, there- fore. There is, however, sufficient in your project to recommend itself, and if anything I can add will aid it, you may reckon upon me ; but you will yourself see whether my counsels be admissible. There is only one question I would ask — you'll excuse the frankness of it for the sincerity it guarantees — Miss Kellett, although in poverty, was the daughter of a gentleman of fortune — all the habits of her life were formed in that station — now, is it likely — I mean — are your mother's circumstances " " My mother has something like a hundred a year in the world," broke in Conway, hastily. " It's a poor pittance, I know, and you would be puzzled to say how one could eke out subsistence on it but she manages it very cleverly.' 1 p 210 DAVEOTOBT DtHW. "I had really no intention to obtrude my curiosity bo far," said Dunn, apologising. " My object was to show you, generally, that Mm Kellett, having hitherto lived in a condition of comfort " " "Well, we'll do our best — I mean, my mother will," said Conway. " Only say you will recommend the plan, and I'm satisfied." " And for yourself- — have you no project, no scheme of life struck out ? A man so full of youth and energy should not sink into the listless inactivity of a retired soldier." " Tou forget this," said Conway, pointing to his armless sleeve. " Many a one-armed officer leads his squadron into fire ; and your services, if properly represented — properly supported — would perhaps meet recognition at the Horse Guards. "What say you, would you serve again if they offered you a cornetcy ?" " Would I ? — would I bless the day that brought me the tidings ? But the question is not of me" said he, proudly, and he turned away to leave the spot. Dunn followed him, and they walked out into the road together. A handsome chariot, splendid in all its appointments, and drawn by two powerful thorongh-breds, awaited the rich man's coming, and the footman banged down the steps with ostentatious noise as he saw him approach. " Let the carriage follow," said Dunn to the servant, and walked on at Conway's side. " If it was not that I am in a position to be of service to you, my observation would be a liberty," said Dunn; "but I have some influence with persons in power " " I must stop you at once," said Conway, good-bumouredly. " I belong to a class which does not accept of favours except from per- sonal friends ; and though I fully recognise your kind intentions to- wards me, remember, we are strangers to each other." " I should wish to forget that," said Dunn, courteously. " I should still be ungracious enough to bear it in mind. Come, come, Mr. Dunn," said he, " this is not the topic I want you to be interested in. If you can bring some hope and comfort into that little cottage yonder, you will do a far greater kindness than by any service you can render one like me." " It would scarcely be advisable to do anything for a day or two ?" said Dunn, rather asking the question; " Of course not. Meanwhile, I'll write to my mother, and she shall herself address Miss Kellett, or, if you think it better, she'd come over here." " We'll think over that. Come back with me to town and eat your dinner with me, if you have no engagement." BATEBTPOBT DTJJTN. 211 ""Not to-day — excuse me to-day. I am low and out of eoilts, and I feel as if I'd rather be alone." ■" Will you let me see you to-morrow, or the day after?" " The day after to-morrow be it. By that time I shall haTB beard from my mother," said Conway. And they parted. Long after Mr. Item's handsome equipage had driven away, Charles Conway continued to linger about the neighbourhood of the little cottage. The shutters were closed, and no smoke issued from the chimney, and it looked dreary and desolate. Again and again would he draw near the little wicket and look into the garden. He would haw given all he possessed to have been able to ask after her — to have seen any one who could have told him of her — how she bore up in her dread hour of trial ; but none was to be seen. More than once he adventured to approach the door, and timidly stood, uncertain what to do, and then, cautiously retracing his steps, he regained the road, again to resume his lonely watch. And so the noon passed, and the (day waned, and evening drew nigh, and there he still lingered. He thought that when night closed in, some flickering light might give sign of life within — some faint indication of her his heart was full of ; but all remained dark, silent, and cheerless. Even yet could he not bear to leave the spot, and it was already far into the night ere he turned his steps towards Dublin. Let us go back for a moment to Mr. Davenport Dunn, who was not the only occupant of the handsome chariot that rolled smoothly back to town. Mr. Driscoll sat in one corner, the blind carefully down, so as to screen him from view. " And that was Conway !" said he, as soon as Dunn had taken his seat. ""Wasn't I right when I said you were sure to catch Tiim here?" " I knew as much myself," said Dunn, curtly. " "Well, and what is he like ? — is he a chap easy to deal with ? — is he any way deep ?" " He's as proud as Lucifer — that's all I can make out of him ; and there are few things harder to manage than real pride." " Ay, if you can't get round it," said Driscoll, with a sly twinkle of the eye. " I have no time for such management," said Dunn, stiflly. " "Well, how did he take what you said to him? Did he seem as if he'd enter into the business kindly ?" " Tou don't suppose that I spoke to him about his family or bis fortune, do you ? Is it in a chance meeting like this that I could p2 212 DAVENPOET J3VSTS. approach a subject full of difficulty and complication ? Tou have rare notions of delicacy and address, Driscoll !" " God help me ! I'm a poor crayture, but somehow I get along for all that, and I'm generally as far on my road at the end of the day as them that travels with four posters." "You'd make a pretty mess of whatever required a light hand and a fine touch, that I can tell you. The question here lies between a Peer of the realm with twelve thousand a year, and a retired soldier with eightpence a day pension. It does not demand much thought to see where the balance inclines." " You're forgetting one trifling matter. "Who has the right to be the Peer with the twelve thousand a year ?" " I am not forgetting it ; I was going to it when you stopped me. Until we have failed in obtaining our terms from Lord Lacking- ton " "Ay, but what are the terms ?" broke in Driscoll, eagerly. " If you interrupt me thus at every moment, I shall never be able to explain my meaning. The terms are for yourself to name ; you may write the figures how you please. As for me, I have views that in no way clash with yours. And to resume : until we fail with the Viscount, we have no need of the soldier. All that we have to think of as regards Conway is, that he falls into no hands but our own, that he should never learn anything of his claim, nor be within reach of such information till the hour when we ourselves think fit to make it known to him " " He oughtn't to keep company with that daughter of Paul Kellett, then," broke in Driscoll. " There's not a family history in the king- dom she hasn't by heart." " I have thought of that already, and there is some danger of such an occurrence." "As how?" " Young Conway is at this very moment plotting how she may be domesticated with his mother, somewhere in "Wales, I believe." " If he's in love with her, it will be a bad business," said Driscoll. " She does be reading, and writing, too, from morning till night. There's no labour nor fatigue she's not equal to, and all the searches and in- quiries that weary others she'd go into out of pure amusement. Now, if she was ever to be with his mother, and heard the old woman talk about family history, she'd be at it hard and fast next morning." " There is no need she should go there." " No. But she mustn't go — must never see her." PAVENPOET DUNN. 213 " I think I can provide for that. It will be somewhat more dif- ficult to take him out of the way for the present. I wish he were back in the Crimea." " He might get killed " "Ay; but his claim would not die. Look here, Driscoll," said he, slowly; "I ventured to tell him this morning that I would assist him with my influence if he wishes to re-enter the service as an officer, and he resented the offer at once as a liberty. Now, it might be managed in another way. Leave me to think it over, and perhaps I can hit upon the expedient. The Attorney- General is to report upon the claims to me to-morrow, next day I'm to see Conway himself, and then you shall learn all." "I don't like all these delays," began Driscoll; but at a look from Dunn he stopped, and held down his head, half angry, half abashed. " Tou advance small loans of money on approved security, Dris- coll," said Dunn, with a dry expression of the mouth. " Perhaps some of these mornings you may be applied to for a few hundreds by a young fellow wishing to purchase his commission — you under- stand me ?" " I believe I do," said Driscoll, with a significant smile. " You'll not be too hard on him for the terms, especially if he has any old family papers to deposit as security — eh ?" "Just so—just so. A mere nominal guarantee," said Driscoll, still laughing. " Oh, dear ! but it's a queer world, and one has to work his wits hard to live in it." And with this philosophic ex- planation of life's trials, Mr. Driscoll took his leave of Dunn, and walked homeward. CHAPTEK XXVI. THE O S T E N D PACKET. It was a wild, stormy night, with fast flying clouds above, . and a heavy rolling sea below, as the Osprey steamed away for Ostend, her closed hatchways and tarpaulined sailors, as well as her sea- washed deck and dripping cordage, telling there was " dirty weather outside." Though the waves broke over the vessel as she lay at an- chor, and the short distance between' the shore and her gangway had to be effected at peril of life, the captain had his mail, and was de- 214 BATEKPOET DTOir. eided on sailing. There were tut three passengers : two went aboard with the captain, the third was already on deek when they arrived, and leisurely paraded up and down with his cigar, stopping occa- sionally to look at the lights on shore, or cast a glance towards the wild chaos of 'waves that raged without. "Safe^now, I suppose, Grog?" muttered Beecher, as the vessel, krosed from her last mooring, turned head to sea oat of the harbour. " I rather suspect yon are," said Davis, as he struck' a light for his cigar.. " Pew MLowa would like to swim out here with a judge's warrant in his mouth such a night as this." " I don't like it overmuch myself," said Beecher j " there's; a tre- mendous sea out there, and she's only a cockleshell after all." "■A. very tidy one, Sir, in a sea,. I promise you," said the Captain, oTOrheariag, while with his trumpet he bellowed forth some directions to the sailors. "Tou-Ve no other passengers than ourselves^ have you.?" asked Beecher. " Only that gentleman yonder," whispered the Captain, pointing towards the stranger. " Pew, I take it, fancy coming out in such weather," said Beecher. " Yery few, Sir, if they haven't uncommonly strong reasons for crossing the water," replied the Captain. " I think he had you. there !' ' growled Grog in his ear. " Don't you go poking nonsense at fellows like that. Shut up, I tell you! shut up !" "I begin to feel it deueed cold here," said Beecher; shuddering. " Come down below, then, and have something hot. I'll make a brew and turn in," said Davis, as he moved towards the ladder. " Come along." " No, I must keep the deck, no matter how cold it is. I suffer dreadfully when I go below. Send me up a tumbler of rum-and- water, Davis, as hot as may be." " You'd better take your friend's advice, Sir," said the Captain. " It will be dirty weather out there, and you'll be snugger under cover." Beecher, however, declined ; and the Captain, crossing the deck, repeated the same counsel to the other passenger, "■'No, I thank you," said he, gaily ; " but if one of your men could spare me a cloak or a cape, I'd be much obliged, for I am somewhat ill-provided against wet weather." "I can let you have a rug, with pleasure," said Beecher, over- hearing the request ; while he drew from a recess beneath the bin- nacle one of those serviceable) aids to modern travel in the shape' of a strong woollen blanket. DAYESTPQBI DUNN. 215 " I accept your offer most .willingly, and the more so as I suspect I have had the honour of being presented to you," said the stranger. " Do I address Mr. Annesley Beecher ?" " Eh ? — I'm not aware — I'm not quite sure, by this light," began Beecher, in considerable embarrassment, which the other as quickly perceived,, and remedied by saying, " I met you at poor Kellett's. My name is Conway." " Oh, Conway— all right," said Beecher, laughing. " I was afraid you might be a ' dark horse,? as we say. Now that I know your colours, I'm. easy again." Conway laughed too at the. frankness of the confession, and they turned to walk the deck together. " Tou mentioned Kellett. He's gone ' toes up,' isn't he ?" said Beecher. " He is dead, poor fellow," said Conway, gravely. " I expected to have met you at his funeral." " So I should have been had it come off on aSunday," said Beecher, pleasantly j " but as in seeing old Paul ' tucked in? they might have nabbed me, I preferred being reported absent without leave." " These were strong reasons, doubtless," said Conway, dryly. " I liked the old fellow, too," said. Beecher ; " he was a bit of a bore, to be sure, about Arayo Molinos, and Albuera, and Soult,, and Beresford, and the rest of 'em, but he was a rare good one to help a fellow at a pinch, and hospitable as a prince." " That I'm sure of!" chimed in Conway. " I know it — I can swear to it j I used to dine with him every Sunday, regularly as the day came. I'll never forget those little- tough legs of mutton — wherever he found them there's no saying — and those hard pellets* of capers, like big swan-shot, washed down with table beer and whisky-grog, and poor Kellett thinking all the while he was giving you haunch of venison and red hermitage." " He'd have given them just as freely if he had them," broka ia Conway, half gruffly. " That he would I He did do so when he had it to give — at least,, so they tell me, for I never saw the old place at Kellett's Town, or Castle Kellett " " Kellett's Court was the name." " Ay, to be sure, Kellett's Court I wonder how I could forget, it, for I'm sure I heard it often enough." " One forgets many a thing they aught to remember," said Conway, significantly. " Hit him again, he hasn't got no friends L" broke in Beeches, laughing jovially at this rebuke of himself. " You mean, that I ought 216 DAVBITPOET DUNN. to have had a fresher memory about all old Paul's kindnesses, and you're right there ; but if you knew how hard the world has hit me, how hot they've been giving it to me these years back, you'd per- haps not lean so heavily on me. Since the Epsom of '42," said he, solemnly, " I never had one chance, not one, I pledge you my sacred word of honour. I've had my little ' innings,' you know, like every one else — punted for five-pun notes with the small ones, but never a real chance. Now, I call that hard, deuced hard." " I suppose it is hard," said Conway ; but really it would have been very difficult to say in what sense his words should be taken. " And when a fellow finds himself always on the wrong side of the road," said Beecher, who now fancied that he was taking a moralist's view of life, and spoke with a philosophic solemnity — " I say, when a fellow sees that, do what he will, he's never on the right horse, he begins to be soured with the world, and to think that it's all a regular ' cross.' Not that I ever gave in. No ! ask any of the fellows up at Newmarket — ask the whole ring — ask " he was going to say Grog Davis, when he suddenly remembered the heavy judgment Conway had already fulminated on that revered authority, and then, quickly correcting himself, he said, " Ask any of the ' legs' you like what stuff A. B.'s made of — if he ain't hammered iron, and no mis- take !" " But what do you mean when you say you never gave in ?" asked Conway, half sternly. " What do I mean ?" said Beecher, repeating the words, half stunned by the boldness of the question — "what do I mean? "Why, I mean that they never saw me ' down,' — that no man can say Annesley Beecher ever said ' die.' Haven't I had my soup piping hot — spiced and peppered, too ! Wasn't I in for a pot on Blue Nose, when Mope ran a dead heat with Balshazzar for the Cloudeslie — fifteen to three in fifties twice over, and my horse running in ban- dages, and an ounce of corrosive sublimate in his stomach ! Well, you'd not believe it — I don't ask any one to believe it that didn't see it — but I was as cool as I am here, and I walked up to Lady Tin- kerton's drag and ate a sandwich ; and when she said, ' Oh ! Mr. Beecher, do come and tell me what to bet on,' I said to her, ' Quick- silver's the fastest of metals, but don't back it just now.' They had it all over the course in half an hour : ' Quicksilver's the fastest of metals ' " " I'm afraid I don't quite catch your meaning." " It was alluding to the bucketing, you know. They'd just given Blue Nose corrosive sublimate, which is a kind of quicksilver." DAVENPORT DTTHN. 217 " Oh ! I perceive," said Conway. " Good — wasn't it P" said Beecher, chuckling. " Let A. B. alone to 'sarve them out,' — that's what all the legs said!" And then he heaved a little sigh, as though to say, " That, after all, even wit and smartness were only a vanity and a vexation of spirit, and that a ' good book' was better than them all." v " I detest the whole concern," said Conway. " So long as gentle- men bred and trained to run their horses in honourable rivalry, it was a noble sport, and well became the first squirearchy of the world ; but when it degenerated into a field for every crafty knave and trickster — when the low cunning of the gambler succeeded to the bold daring of the true lover of racing — then, the turf became no better than the rouge et noir table, without even the poor consolation of thinking that chance was any element in the result." " "Why, what would you have ? It's a game where the best player wins, that's all," broke in Beecher. " If you mean it is always a contest where the best horse carries away the prize, I enter my denial to the assertion. If it were so, the legs would have no existence, and all that classic vocabulary of ' nohbling,' ' squaring,' and so on, have no dictionary." "It's all the same the whole world over," broke in Beecher. " The wide awake ones will have the best seat on the coach." Conway made no reply, but the increased energy with which he puffed his cigar bespoke the impatience he was suffering under. " "What became of the daughter ?" asked Beecher, abruptly, and then, not awaiting the answer, went on : "A deuced good-looking girl, if properly togged out, but she hadn't the slightest notion of dressing herself." " Their narrow fortune may have had something to say to that," said Conway, gravely. " "Where there's a will there's a way; — that's my idea. I was never so hard up in life but I could make my tailor turn me out like a gen- tleman. I take it," added he, returning to the former theme, " she was a proud one. Old Kellett was awfully afraid of doing many a thing from the dread of her knowing it. He told me so himself." " Indeed !" exclaimed Conway, with evident pleasure in the tone. " I could have helped him fifty ways. I knew fellows who would have ' done' his bills— small sums, of course — and have shoved him along pleasantly enough, but she wouldn't have it at any price." "I was not aware of that," remarked Conway, inviting by his man- ner further revelations. Beecher, however, mistaking the source of the interest he had thus 218 DAVEBTFOKE JHTCTH. excited, and believing that Ms own craft and shrewdness were the quali- ties, that awakened respect, went on to show how conversant he was with all financial operations amongst Jews and money-lenders, proudly declaring that there was not a " man on town" knew the cent, per centers as. he did. " I've had my litMe dealings with them," said he, with some vanity in the manner. " I've had my paper done when there wasn't a fellow on the ' turf could raise a guinea. You see," added he, lowering his voice to a, whisper that implied secrecy, " I could do them a service no money could repay. I was up to all that went on in life, and at the clubs. When Etheridge got it so heavy at the ' Rag, 1 I warned Eordyca not to< advance him beyond a hundred or two^ I was the only gentleman knew Brookdale's horse could win 'the Eipsley.' The legs, of course, knew it well before the race came off. Jemmy could have had ten thousand down for his ' book.' Ah ! if you and I had only known each other six years ago, what, a stroke of work we might have done together 1 Even, now," said he, with increased warmth of voice, " there's a deuced deal to be done abroad. Brus- sels and Florence are far from worked out. — not among the foreigners, of course, but our own fellows — the. young Oxford and Cambridge ' saps' — the green ones waiting for their gazette in the Guards ! "Where are you bound for ? — what are you doing ?" asked he,, as if a sudden thought had crossed his mind. " I am endeavouring*. to get back to the Crimea," said Conway, smiling at the prospect which the other had with such frankness opened to him. " The Crimea!" exclaimed Beecher, "why that is downright mad- ness ; they're fighting away there just as fresh as ever. The very last paper I saw is, filled with an account of a Russian sortie against our lines, and a lot of our fellows killed and wounded." " Of course there are hard knocks " " It' a all very well totalk of it. that way, but I think you might have been satisfied with what you saw. I'd just as soon take a cab down to Ghiy's, or the Middlesex HospitaL and ask one of the house-surgeons to cut me up at his own discretion, as go amongst those Eussian savages. I tell you it don't pay — not a bit of it !" " I suppose, as to the paying part, you're quite right ; but remem- ber, there are different, modes, af estimating, the same thing. Now, I like soldiering ** " No accounting for tastes," broke m Beecher. " I knew a fellow who was so fond of the Queen's Bench Prison he wouldn't let hi3 friends clear him out ; but t seriously speaking, the Crimea's a bad book." DAVBNPOBT DTON. 219 " I should be a very happy fellow to-night if I knew how I could get back there. I've been trying in various ways, for employment in any branch of tbe service. I'd rather be a driver in the "Waggon Train than whip the neatest four-in-hand over Epsom Downs," " There's only one name for that," saidBeecher, "at least orat, oi Hanwell." "•I'd be content to be thought mad on such terms," said Conway, good-humouredly, " and not even quarrel with those who said soi !" " I've got a better scheme than the Crimea in my head,"' said Beecher, in a law, cautious voice, like one afraid of being overheard. " I've half a mind to tell you, though there's one on board, here would come down pretty heavily on rae for peaching." " Don't draw any indignation on yourself on my : account," said Conway, smiling. "I'm quite unworthy of the confidence j, and utterly unable to profit by it." " I'm not so sure of that," responded Beecher. " A fellow who has got it so hot as you have, has always bis, eyes open ever after. Come a little to this side," whispered he, cautiously. " Did you remark my going forward two or three times when I came on board ?" " Tes, I pereeived that you did so." " Tou never guessed why p" " No j really, I paid no particular attention to it." " I'll tell you, then," whispered he, still lower, " it was to. look after a horse I've got there. ' Mumps,' that ran such a capital second for the Yarmouth, and ran a dead heat afterwards with Stanley's ' Cxoss-Bones,' he's there !" and his voice, trembled between pride and agitation. " Indeed !" exclaimed Conway, amused at the eagerness of his manner. " There he is, disguised as a prize bull for the King of Belgium. Nobody suspects him — nobody could suspect him, he's so well got up* horns and all. Got him on board in the dark in a. large roomy box, clap posters to it on the other side, and ' tool' him along to Brussels,. That's what I call business ! Now, if you wait a week or two, yon. can lay on him as deep as you like. "We'll let the Belgians ' in,' before we've, done with them, "We run him under the name of 'Kleppej' — don't foarget it, Klepper !" " I've already told you I'm unworthy of such a confidence j. yoa only risk yourself when you impart a secret to indiscretion like mine." " You'd not blow us?" cried Annesley, in terror. " The best security against my doing so accidentally is,, that I may be hundreds of miles away before your races come off." 220 DAVENPOBT DUNN. For a minute or two Beecher's misery was extreme. He saw how his rashness had carried him away to a foolish act of good-nature, and had not even reaped thanks for his generosity. What would he not have given to recal his words ? — what would he not have done to obliterate their impression ? At last a sudden thought seemed to strike him, and he said, " There are two of us in ' the lay,' and my ' pal' is the readiest pistol in Europe." "I'll not provoke any display of his skill, depend on't," said Conway, controlling as well as he could the inclination to laugh out. " He'd tumble you over like winking if you sold him. He'd make it as short work with myself if he suspected me" " I'd rather have a quieter sort of colleague," said Conway, dryly. " Oh ! but he's a rare one ' to work the oracle.' Soloman was a wise man " " What infernal balderdash are you at with Solomon and Samson, there?" shouted out Grog Davis, who had just been looking after the horse-box in the bow. " Come down below, and have a glass of brandy-and-water." " I'll stay where I am," said Beecher, sulkily, and walked away in dudgeon from the spot. " I think I recognise your friend's voice," said Conway, when Beecher next joined him. " If I'm right, it's a fellow I've an old grudge against." " Don't have it out, then — that's all," broke in Beecher, hastily. " I'd just as soon go into a cage and dispute a bone with one of Yan Amburgh's tigers, as I'd 'bring him to book.' " " Make your mind easy about that," said Conway. " I never go in search of old scores. I would only say, don't leave yourself more in his power than you can easily escape from. As for myself, it's very unlikely I shall ever see him again." " I wish you'd give up the Crimea," said Beecher, who, by one of the strange caprices of his strange nature, began to feel a sort of liking for Conway. " Why should I give it up ? It's the only career I'm fit for — if I even be fit for that, which, indeed, the Horse Guards don't seem to think. But I've got an old friend in the Piedmontese service who is going out in command of the cavalry, and I'm on my way now to Turin to see whether he cannot make me something — anything, in short, from an aide-de-camp to an orderly. Once before the enemy, it matters wonderfully little what rank a man holds." " The chances of being knocked over are pretty much alike," said Beecher, " if that's what you mean." DAVENPOBT DUNK. 221 "Not exactly," said Conway, laughing- — " not exactly, though even in that respect the calculation is equal." They now walked the deck step for step together in silence. The conversation had arrived at that point whence, if not actually confi- dential, it could proceed no further without becoming so, and so each appeared to feel it, and yet niether was disposed to lead the way. Beecher was one of those men who regard the chance per- sons they meet with in life just as they would accidental spots where they halt when on a journey — little localities to be enjoyed at the time, and never, in all likelihood, revisited. In this way they obtained far more of his confidence than if he was sure to be in constant habits of intercourse with them. He felt they were safe depositaries, just as he would Lave felt a lonely spot in a wood a secure hiding-place for whatever he wanted to conceal. Now he was already — we are unable to say why — disposed to like Conway, and he would gladly have revealed to him much that lay heavily at his heart — many a weighty care — many a sore mis- giving. There was yet remaining in his nature that reverence and respect for honesty of character which survives very often a long course of personal debasement, and he felt that Conway was a man of honour. Such men he very well knew were usually duped and done — they were the victims of the sharp set he him- self fraternised with, but, with all that, there was something about them that he still clung to, just as he might have clung to a re- miniscence of his boy-days. " I take it," said he, at last, " that each of us have caught it as heavily as most fellows going. You, to be sure, worse than myself — for I was only a younger son." " My misfortunes," said Conway, " were all of my own making. I squandered a very good fortune in a few years, without ever so much as suspecting I was in any difficulty ; and after all, the worst recol- lection of the past is, how few kindnesses — how very few good-natured things a fellow does when he leads a life of mere extravagance. I have enriched many a money-lender, I have started half a dozen rascally servants into smart hotel-keepers, but I can scarcely recal five cases of assistance given to personal friends. The truth is, the most selfish fellow in the world is the spendthrift !" " That's something new to me, I must own," said Beecher, thought- fully ; but Conway paid no attention to the remark. " My notion is this," said Beecher, after a pause, " do what you will— say what you will — the world won't play fair with you !" Conway shook his head dissentingly, but made no reply, and another and a longer silence ensued. 222 BAVENPOET DUNS. "You don't know amy brother Lackington?" said Beeeber, at length. " No. I have met him in the world, and at clubs, but don't know him." " I'll engage, however, you've always beard him called a clever fellow, a regular sharp fellow, aand all that, just because he's the Vis- count ; but he is, without exception, the greatest flat going — never saw his way to a good thing yet, and if you told him raf one was sure to spoil it. I'm going over to see him now," added he, after a pause. " He's at Kome, I think, the newspapers say ?" " Yes, he's stopping there for the winter." Anotiher pause fol- lowed, and Beecher threw away the end of his cigar, and sticking an mnlighted one in his mouth, walked the deck in deep deliberation. " I'd like to put .a case to you for your opinion," said foe, as though screwing himself to a great effort. " It is this. If you stood next to a good fortune — next in reversion, I mean— and that there was a threat — -just a threat, and no more — of a suit to contest your right, would you accept of a life interest in the property to avoid all litiga- tion, and secure a handsome income for your own time ?" " You put the case too vaguely. First of all, a mere threat would not drive me to a compromise." " Well, call it more than a threat ; Bay that actual proceedings had been taken — not that I believe they have — but just say so." " The matter is too complicated for my mere Yes or No to meet it ; but on the simple question of whether I should compromise a case of that nature, I'd say No. I'd not surrender my right if I had one, and I'd mot retain possession of that which didn't belong to me." " "Which means, that you'd reject the offer of a life interest ?" " Yes, on the terms you mention." " I believe you're right. Put the bold face on, and stand the battle. Now the real case is this. My brother Lackington has just been served with notice " Just as Beecher had uttered the last word, his arm, which rested on the binnacle against which he was standing, was grasped with such force that he almost cried out with the pain, and at the same instant a muttered curse fell upon his ear. " Go on," said Conway, as he waited to hear more. Beecher muttered some iininteUigible words about feeling suddenly chilled, and " wanting a little brandy," and disappeared down the stairs to the cabin. " I heard you," cried Davis, as soon as the other entered — " I heard you! and if I hadn't heard you with my own ears, I'd not have be- DAVENFOBT DUFN. 223 lieved it ! Haven't I warned you, not once but fifty times, against that confounded peaching tongue of yours — haven't I told, you, that if every act of your life was as pure and honest as you know it is not, your own stupid talk would make an indictanent against you ? Tou meet a fellow on the deck of a steamer " " Stop there !" cried Beecher, whose temper was sorely tried by this attack, "the gentleman I talked with is an old acquaintance — he knows me, ay, and what's more, he knows you !" " Many a man knows me, and does not feel himself much the better for his knowledge !" said Davis, boldly. " "Well, I believe our friend here wouldn't say he was the exception to that rule," said Beecher, with an ironical laugh. " Who is he ? — what's his name ?" " His name is Oonway — he was a Lieutenant in the 12th Lancers ; but you will remember him better as the owner of Sir Aubrey." " I remember him perfectly," replied Davis, with all his own com- posure — " I remember him perfectly — a tall, good-looking fellow, with short moustaches. He was — except yourself — the greatest flat I ever met in the betting ring ; and that's a strong word, Mr. Annesley Beecher — ain't it ?" " I suspect you'd scarcely like to call him a flat to-day, at least to his face," said Beecher, angrily. A look of mingled insolence and contempt was all the answer Davis gave this speech, and then, half filling a tumbler with brandy, he drank it off, and said slowly, " "What I would dare to do, you certainly would never suspect — that much I'm well aware of. What you, would dare is easily guessed at." " I don't clearly understand you," said Beecher, timidly. " You'd dare to draw me into a quarrel on the chance of seeing me ' bowled over,' " said Davis, with a, bitter laugh. " You'd dare to see me stand opposite another man's pistol, and pray heartily at the same time that his hand mightn't shake, nor his wrist falter ; but I've got good business habits about me, Master Beecher. If you open that writing-desk, you'll own few men's papers are in better order, or more neatly kept ; and there is no satisfaction I could have to offer any one, wouldn't give me ample time to deposit in the hands ot justice seven forged acceptances by the Honourable Annesley Beecher, and a power of attorney counterfeited by the same accomplished gentleman's hand." Beecher put out his hand to catch the decanter of brandy ; but Davis gently removed the bottle, and said, " No— no ; that's only 224 DATENPOBT DUNK. Dutch courage, man ; nerve yourself up, and learn to stand straight and manfully, and when you say, ' Not guilty,' do it with a bold look at the jury box !" Beecher dropped into a seat, and buried his head between his hands. " I often think," said Davis, as he took out his cigar-case and pro- ceeded to choose a cigar — " I often think it would be a fine sight when the swells — the fashionable world as the newspapers call them — would be pressing on to the Old Bailey to see one of their own set in the dock. "What nobs there would be on the Bench. All Brookes's and the "Wyndham scattered amongst the bar. The Illustrated News would have a photographic picture of you, and the descriptive fellows would come out strong about the way you recognised your former acquaintances in court. Egad ! old Grog Davis would be quite proud to give his evidence in such company ! ' How long have you been acquainted with the prisoner in the dock, Mr. Davis ?' cried he, aloud, imitating the full and imperious accents of an examining counsel. ' I have known him upwards of fifteen years, my Lord. We went down together to Leeds in the summer of 1840 on a little speculation with cogged dice ' " Beecher looked up and tried to speak, but his strength failed him, and his head fell heavily down again upon the table. " There, ' liquor up,' as the Yankees say," cried Davis, passing the decanter towards him. " You're a poor chicken-hearted creature, and don't do much honour to your ' order.' " " You'll drive me to despair yet," muttered Beecher, in a voice scarcely above a whisper. " Not a bit of it, man ; there's pluck in despair ! You'll never go that far!" Beecher grasped his glass convulsively, and as his eyes flashed wildly, he seemed for a moment as if about to hurl it in the other's face. Davis's look, however, appeared to abash him, and with a low, faint sigh he relinquished his hold, while his head fell forward on his bosom. Davis now drew near the fire, and with a leg on either side of it, smoked away at his ease. DAVENPOBT DUNN. 225 CHAPTEE XXVII. A VISIT OF CONDOLENCE. " I thine she will see me" said Davenport Dunn to the old woman servant who opened the door to him at the Kelletts' cottage, "if you will tell her my name : Mr. Dunn — Mr. Davenport Dunn." " She told me she'd not see anybody, Sir," was the obdurate reply. " Tes ; but I think, when you say who it is " " She would not see that young man that was in the regiment with her brother, and he was here every day, wet or dry, to ask after her." " Well, take in my card now,' and I'll answer for it she'll not re- fuse me." The old woman took the card half sulkily from his hand, and re- turned in a few minutes to say that Miss Kellett would receive him. Dressed in mourning of the very humblest and cheapest kind, and with all the signs of recent suffering and sorrow about her, Sybella Kellett yet received Mr. Dunn with a calm and quiet composure for which he was scarcely prepared. "If I have been importunate, Miss Kellett," said he, "it is be- cause I desire to proffer my services to you. I feel assured that you will not take ill this assistance on my part. I would wish to be thought a friend " " You were so to my father, Sir," said she, interrupting, while she held her handkerchief to her eyes. Dunn's face grew scarlet at these words, but fortunately for him she could not see it. " I had intended to have written to you, Sir," said she, with reco- vered composure. " I tried to do so this morning, but my head was aching so that I gave it up. I wanted your counsel, and indeed your assistance. I have no need to tell you that I'm left without means of support. I do not want to burden relatives, with whom, besides, I have had no intercourse for years ; and my object was to ask if you could assist me to a situation as governess, or, if not, to something more humble still. I will not be difficult to please," said she, smilin^ sadly, "for my pretensions are of the very humblest." " I'm aware how much you underrate them. I'm no stranger to Miss Kellett's abilities," said Dunn, bowing. She scarcely moved her head in acknowledgment of tins speech, Q 226 DATENPOET DTTNIT. and went on: "If you could ensure me immediate occupation it would serve to extricate me from a little difficulty at this moment, and relieve me from the embarrassment of declining ungraciously what I cannot accept of. This letter here is an invitation from a lady in Wales to accept the hospitality of her house for the present ; and however deeply the kindness touches me, I must not avail myself of it. Tou may read the letter," said she, handing it to him. Dunn perused it slowly, and, folding it up, laid it on the table again. " It is most kindly worded, and speaks well for the writer," said he, calmly. "I feel all its kindness," said she, with a slight quivering of the lip. "It comes when such is doubly precious, but I hare my reasons against accepting it." " "Without daring to ask, I can assume them, Miss Kellett. I am one of those who believe that all efforts in life, to be either good or great, should strike root in independence; that he who leans upon another, parts with the best features of identity, and loses himself in suiting his tastes to another's." She made no reply, but a slight flush on her cheek, and an increased brightness in her eye, showed that she gave her full concurrence to the words. " It is fortunate, Miss Kellett," said, he, resuming, "that I am the bearer of a proposition which, if you approve of, meets the case at once. I have been applied to by Lord Grlengariff to find a lady who would accept the situation of companion to his daughter. He has so far explained the requirements he seeks for, that I can answer for Miss Kellett being exactly everything to fulfil them." " Oh, Sir!" broke she in, "this is in no wise what I desired. I am utterly unfitted for such a sphere and such associations. Be- member how and where my life has been passed. I have no know- ledge of life, and no experience of society." " Let me interrupt you. Lord Glengariff lives completely estranged from the world, in a remote part of the country. Lady Augusta, his only unmarried daughter, is no longer young ; they see no com- pany ; indeed, their fortune is very limited, and all their habits of the very simplest and least expensive. It was remembering this very seclusion, I was glad to offer you a retreat so likely to meet your wishes." " But even my education is not what such persons would look for. I have not one of the graceful accomplishments that adorn society. My skill as a musician is very humble ; I cannot sing at all ; and though I can read some modern languages, I scarcely speak them." BATENPOET DUNK. 227 " Do not ask me to say how much I am aware of your capacity and acquirements, Miss Kellett. It is about two months back & little volume came into my hands which had once been yours ; how it ceased to be so I don't choose to confess ; but it was a work on the indus- trial resources of Ireland, annotated and commented on by you. I have it still. Shall I own to you that your notes have been already used by me in my reports, and that I have adopted some of the sugges- tions in my recommendations to Government ? Nay, if you doubt me, I will give you the proof." " I left such a volume as you speak of at Mr. Hawkshaw's, and be- lieved it had been mislaid." " It was deliberately stolen, Miss JLellett, that's the truth of it. Mr. Driscoll chanced to see the book, and happened to show it to me. I could not fail to be struck with it, the more as I discovered in your remarks hints and suggestions, coupled with explanations, that none had ever offered me." " How leniently you speak of my presumption, Sir !" " Say, rather, how sincerely I applaud your zeal and intelligence — the book bespeaks both. Now, when I read it, I wished at once to make your acquaintance. There were points wherein you were mis- taken; there were others in which you evidently see further than any ofuB. I felt that if time, and leisure, and opportunity of knowledge were supplied, these were the studies in which you might become really proficient. Lord Glengariff's proposal came at the very mo- ment. It was all I could desire for you — -a quiet home, the soeiety of those whose very breeding is acted kindliness." " Oh, Sir ! do not flatter me into the belief that I am worthy of such advantages." " The station will gain most by your association with it, take my word for that:" How was it that these words sent a colour to her cheek and a courage to her heart that made her for a moment forget she was poor, and fatherless, and friendless ? "What was it, too, that made them seem less flattery than sound, just, and due acknowledgment? He that spoke them was neither young, nor handsome, nor fascinating in manner ; and yet she felt his praise vibrate within her heart strangely and thrillingly. He spoke much to her about her early life — what she had read, and how she was led to reflect upon themes so unlikely to attract a young girl's thoughts. By degrees, as her reserve wore off, she ventured to confess what a charm the great men of former days possessed for her imagination — how their devotion, their courage, their single-hearted- Q2 228 DATENPOET UU1W. ness animated her with higher hopes for the time when Ireland should have the aid of those ahle to guide her destinies and make of her all that her great resources promised. " The world of contemporaries is seldom just to these," said Dunn, gravely ; " they excite envy rather than attract friendship, and then they have often few of the gifts which conciliate the prejudices around them." " What matter if they can live down these prejudices ?" cried she, warmly ; then blushing at her own eagerness, she said, falteringly, " How have I dared to speak of these things, and to you ?" Dunn arose, and walked to the window, and now a long pause ■occurred, in which neither uttered a word. " Is this cottage yours, Misa Kellett ?" said he, at last. " No ; we had rented it, and the time expires in a week or two." " And the furniture f " " It was hired also, except a very few articles of little or no value." Dunn again turned away and seemed lost in deep thought ; then, in a voice of some uncertainty and hesitation, said: "Tour father's affairs were complicated and confused — there were questions of law, too, to be determined about them — so that, for the present, there is no saying exactly how they stand ; still there will be a sum — a small one, unfortunately, but still a sum available to you, which, for present con- venience, you must allow me to advance to you." " Tou forget, Sir, that I have a brother. To him, of right, belongs anything that remains to us." " I had, indeed, forgotten that," said Dunn, in some confusion, " and it was just of him I wanted now to speak. He is serving as a sol- dier with a Rifle regiment in the Crimea. Can nothing be done to bring him favourably before the notice of his superiors ? His gallantry has already attracted notice, but, as his real station is still un- known, his advancement has been merely that accorded to the humblest merits. I will attend to it. I'll write about him this very day." " How I thank you !" cried she, fervently ; and she bent down and pressed her lips to his hand. A cold shivering passed over Dunn as he felt the hot tears that fell upon his hand, and a strange sense of weakness oppressed him. " It will make your task the lighter," cried she, eagerly, " to know that Jack is a soldier in heart and soul — brave, daring, and high- hearted, but with a nature gentle as a child's. There was a comrade of his here, the other day, one whose life he saved " BA.TENPOET DUNN. 229 " I have seen Conway," said Dunn, dryly, while he scanned her fea- tures closely. No change of colour nor voice showed that she felt the scrutiny, and in a calm tone Bhe went on : "I know so little of these things, that I do not know if my dear brother were made an officer to-morrow whether his want of private fortune would prevent his acceptance of the rank, but there surely must be steps of advancement open to men poor as he is." " Tou may trust all to me," interrupted Dunn. " Once that you consider me as your guardian I will neglect nothing that concerns you." " Oh, how have I deserved such kindness !" cried she, trying to smother her emotion. " Tou must call me your guardian, too, and write to me as such. The world is of such a temper that it will serve you to be thought my ward. Even Lady Augusta Arden herself will feel the force of it." There was a kind of rude energy in the way these last words were uttered that gave them a character almost defiant. " Tou are then decided that I ought to take the situation ?" said she. And already her manner had assumed the deference of one seek- ing direction. " Tes, for the present, it is all that could be desired. There will be no necessity of your continuing there if it should ever be irksome to you. Upon this, as upon all else, I trust you will communicate freely with me." " I should approach an actual duty — a task — with far more con- fidence thau I feel in offering to accommodate myself to the ways and tempers of utter strangers." " Very true," said he ; " but when I have told you about them they will be strangers no longer. People are easily comprehended who have certain strong ruling passions. They have only one, and that the very simplest of all motives — Pride. Let me tell you of them." And so he drew his chair to her side and began to describe the Ardens. "We do not ask the reader to follow Davenport Dunn in his sketch — enough that we say his picture was more truthful than flattering, for he portrayed traits that had often given him offence and suffer- ing. He tried to speak with a sort of disinterested coldness — a kind of half-pitying indifference about " ways and notions" that people estranged from " much intercourse with the world will fall into ;" but his tone was, in spite of himself, severe and resentful, and scarcely compensated by his concluding words, " though of course, to you, they will be amiable and obliging." 230 DAVENPOBT DUNN. " How I wish I could see them, though only for a minute," said she, as he finished. " Have you sueh confidence, then, in your power of detecting cha- racter at sight ?" asked he, with a keen and furtive glance. "My gift is' generally enough for my own guidance," said she; frankly; "but, to be sure, it has only been exercised amongst the country people, and they have fewer disguises than those we call their betters." "I may write word, then, that within'a week you will be ready," said Dunn, rising. " Tou will find in that pocket-book enough for any immediate outlay — nay, Miss Kellett, it is your own — I repeat it, all your own. I am your guardian, and no more." And with a stiffness of manner that almost repelled gratitude, he took his- leave and withr drew. As he gained the door, however, he stopped, and,, after a mo- mentj came back into the room. " I should, like to see you again before you leave — there are topics I would like to speak with you. on. May I come in a day or two ?" " "Whenever, and as often as you. pieasei." Dunn took her hand and pressed it tenderly. A deep crimson oversparead her face as she said " Good-by !" and the carriage had rolled away ere she knew that he was gone. CHAPTEE XXVIII. THE HERMITAGE AT C LENG A KI T F. Beside a little aTm of the sea, and surrounded by lofty moun- tains, stood the cottage of Lord Glengariff. It was originally built as a mere fishing-lodge, a resting-place in the bathing season, or a spot to visit when it was the pleasure of its owners to affect retire- ment and seclusion. Then would the Earl and his Countess, and the Ladies Julia and Jemima, come down to the Hermitage with a sort of self- approving humility, that seemed to say, "Even we know how to chastise pride, and vanity, and the sinful lusts of the flesh." "Whether it was that these seasons of mortification became more fre- quent, or that they required more space, we cannot say, but, in course of time, the Hermitage extended its limbs, firet in one direc- tion and then in another, till at length it grew to be a very commo- DAVENPOBT DUNS'. 231 dious house,, with ample rooms, and every imaginable comfort. Owing to the character of the architecture, too, it gained in picturesque effect by these successive additions ; and in its jutting projections, its deep-shadowed courts', and its irregular line of roof, it presented a very pleasing specimen of that half-Elizabethan cottage so rarely hit upon in any regular plan. As the fortunes of the noble house declined — the Earl's ancestors had been amongst the most extravagant of Irish gentry — the ancient castle of Holt- GHengar iff, where they had long resided, was sold, and the family settled down permanently to live at the Hermitage. At first the change was supposed to be merely temporary — " they were going to live in London, or in Brighton ; they were about to establish themselves in Paris ;, her Ladyship was ordered to Italy" — a variety of rumours, in fact, were afloat to explain that the sunshine of their presence in that lonesome glen would be but brief and short-lived. All the alterations that might be made in the cottage or its grounds, all the facilities of approach by land and water, all the beneficial changes in the village itself, were alluded to as projects for the day when they would come back there, for my Lord said he " really liked the place" — a species of avowal that was accepted by the neighbourhood as the proudest encomium man could pronounce upon their " happy valley." With all these plans and intentions, it was now eighteen years and the Earl had never quitted the Hermitage for any longer journey than an occasional trip to Dublin. The Countess: had taken a longer road than that over the Alps, and lay at rest, in the village churchyard. The Ladies G-eorgina, Arabella,, and Julian had married off, and none remained but Lady Augusta Arden, of whom we have already made brief mention to our readers in a former chapter. "We did but scant justice to Lady Augusta when we said that she had once been handsome : she was so still. She had fine eyes,, and fine teeth ; a profusion of brown hair of the very silkiest ; her figure was singularly graceful ; and, bating a degree of haughtiness — a family trait — her manner was unexeeptionahly good and pleasing. Both the Earl and his daughter had lived too long amongst those greatly in- ferior to them in rank and fortune not to conceive a very exaggerated estimate of themselves. JJo Pasha was ever more absolute than my Lord in the little village beside him j his will was a sort of firman that none dreamed of dis- puting; and, indeed, the place men occupied in the esteem of their fellows there, was little else than a reflex of how they were regarded at the Hermitage. "We never scruple to bestow a sort of derisive pity upon the savage who; having carved his. deity out of a piece of 232 DAVENPORT DUNN. wood, sits down to worship him ; and yet, what an unconscious imita- tion of the red man is all our adulation of great folks ! We follow him. to the very letter, not only in investing the object of our worship with a hundred qualities that he has not, but we make him the butt of our evil passions, and in the day of our anger and disappointment we turn round and rend him ! Not that the villagers ever treated my Lord in this wise — they were still in the stage " of worship" — they had been at " their offices," fathers and grandfathers, for many a year, and though some were beginning to complain that their knees were getting sore, none dreamed of getting on their legs ! The fact was, that even they who liked the religion least, thought it was not worth while abjuring the faith of their fathers, especially when they could not guess what was to replace it ; and so my Lord dictated, and decided, and pronounced for the whole neighbourhood ; and Lady Augusta doctored, and model-schooled, and loan-funded them to her heart's content. Nay, we are wrong ! It was all in the disappointed dreari- ness of an unsatisfied heart that she took to benevolence ! Oh, dear! what a sorry search is that after motives, if one only knew how much philanthropy and active charity have come of a breach of promise to marry ! Not that Lady Augusta had ever stood in this position, but either that she had looked too high, or was too hard to please, or from some other cause, but she never married. The man who has no taste for horsemanship, consoles himself for the unenjoyed pleasure by reading of the fractured ribs and smashed collar-bones of the hunting-field. "Was it in something of this Bpirit that Lady Augusta took an especial delight in dwelling in her mind and in her letters on all the disagreeables of her sisters' wedded life ? The extravagance of men, their selfishness, their uncomplying habits, the odious tyranny of their tempers, were favourite themes with her, dashed with allusions to every connubial contingency, from alimony to the measles in the nursery ! At last, possibly because, by such frequent recurrence to the same subjects, she had no longer anything new to say on them, or perhaps — it is just possible — the themes them- selves had less interest for others than for herself, her sisters seemed to reply less regularly than of old. Their answers were shorter and drier ; they appeared neither to care so much for sympathy and condolence as formerly ; and, in fact, as Lady Augusta said to herself, " They were growing inured to ill-treatment !" And if half of us in this world only knew of the miseries we are daily suffering, and which sympathetic friends are crying over, what a deal of delightful affliction might we enjoy that we now are dead to ! What oppressive govern- ments do we live under — what cruel taskmasters— what ungrateful DAVENPOBT DUNN. 233 publics, not to speak of the more touching sorrows of domestic life — the undervaluing parents and unsympathising wives ! Well, one thing is a comfort ; there are dear kind hearts in mourning over all these for us, anxiously looking for the day we may awaken to a sense of our own misery ! It was of a cheery spring morning, sunlit and breezy, when, in the chirping song of birds, the rustling leaves, and fast-flowing rivulets, Nature seems to enjoy a more intense vitality, that the Earl sat at breakfast with his daughter. A fairer prospect could hardly be seen than that which lay before the open windows in front of them. The green lawn, dotted with clumps of ancient trees, inclined with many a waving slope to the sea, which, in a long, narrow arm, pierced its way between two jutting headlands, the one bold, rocky, and precipitous, the other grass-covered and flowery, reflecting its rich tints in the glassy water beneath. The sea was, indeed, calm and still as any lake, and, save when a low, surging sound arose within some rocky cavern, as silent and noiseless. The cattle browsed down to the very water's edge, and the nets of the fishermen hung to dry over the red- berried foliage of the arbutus. They who looked — when they did, perchance, look on this scene — gazed with almost apathy on it. Their eyes never brightened as the changing sunlight cast new effects upon the scene. Nor was this indifference the result of any unconscious- ness of its beauty. A few months back it was the theme of all their praises. Landscape-painters and photographers were invited specially to catch its first morning tints, its last mellow glow at sunset. The old Lord said it was finer than Sorrento — equal to anything in Greece. If the Mediterranean were bluer, where was there such emerald verdure ? — where such blended colouring of heaths, purple, and blue, and violet ? — in what land did the fragrance of the white thorn so load the warm atmosphere ? Such, and such like, were the enco- miums they were wont to utter; and wherefore was it that they uttered them no more ? The explanation is a brief one. A commis- sion, or a deputation, or a something as important, had come down to examine Bantry Bay, and investigate its fitness to become a packet station for America. In the course of this examination, a scientific member of the body had strayed down to Glengariff, where, being of a speculative as well as of a scientific turn, he was struck by its im- mense capabilities. What a gem it was, and what might it not be made ! It was Ireland in the tropics — " the Green Isle" in the Indian Ocean ! Only imagine such a spot converted into a watering-place ! With a lodge for the Queen on that slope sheltered by the ilex-copse> crescents, and casinos, and yacht stations, and ornamental villaa rose 234 DATEHPOET BUNS. on every side by his descriptive powers, and the old Earl — for he was dining with him — saw at one glance how he had suddenly beeome a benefactor of mankind and a millionnaire. " That little angle of the shore, yonder, my Lord — the space between the pointed rock and the stone pine-trees — is worth fifty thousand pounds j the creseent that would stand there would leave many an tmitenanted house at Kemp Towm. I'll engage myself to get- you a thousand guineas for that small bit of table-land to the right — the Duke of fJxmore ia only waiting to hit upon such a spot. Here, too, where we sit, must be the hydropathic establishment. You can't help it, my Lord, you must comply. This park will bring you in a princely revenue. It is gold — actual gold — every foot of it ! There's not a Swia» cottage in these woods won't pay cent, per cent. !" Mr. Galbraith — such was his name — was of that pifitorially-gifted order of whieh the celebrated George Robins was once chief. He knew how to dress his descriptions with the double attraction of the picturesque and the profitable, so that trees seemed to bend under golden fruit, and the sea-washed rocks looked like " nuggets^" If there be something very seductive in the prospect of growing immensely rich all at once,, there is a terrible compensation in the utter indifference inflicted on us as to all our accustomed pleasures in life. The fate of Midas seems at once our own ; there ia nothing left to us but thai one heavy and shining metal of all created blessedness ! Lord Glengariff was wont to enjoy the lonely spot he lived in with an intense appreciation of its beauty. He never wearied of watching the changing effects of season on a scene so fuU of charm ; but now be- surveyed it with a sense of fidgety impatience,, eager for the time when the sounds of bustle and business should replace the stillness that now reigraed around him. " Thia is from Dunn," said he, breaking open a large, heavy-sealed letter, which had just arrived. His eyes ran hastily along it, and he exclaimed, peevishly, " No prospectus yet — no plan issued — nothiDg whatever announced. ' I have seen Galbraith,, and had some conver- sation with him about your harbour.' My harbour !" " Go on," said Lady Augusta, mildly. " Why, the insolent upstart has not even listened to what was said to him. My harbour ! He takes it for granted that we were wanting to- make this a packet station for America, and goes on to- say that the pfoce has none of the requisite qualifications — no depth of water ! I wish the fellow were at the bottom of it 1 Eeally this, is intolerable; Here is a long lecture to me not to be misled by those * speculatiom- mongers: who are amongst the rife products of our age;' I ask you, BAVENPOET DXTNIT. 235 if you ever heard of impertinence like that ? This fellow — the arch- charlatan of his day — the quack par excellence of his nation — dares to warn me against the perils of his class and kindred ! Only listen to this, Gusty," cried he, bursting into a fit of half-angry laughter : "'lam disposed to think that, by drawing closer to the present party in power, you could serve your interests much more effectively than by embarking in any schemes of mere material benefit. Alhngton — he actually calls him AHington ! — ' dropped hints to this, effect in a confidential conversation we held last evening together, and I am in hopes that, when we meet, you will enter into our views.' Are the coronets of the nobility to be put up to sale like the acres of the squirearchy ? or what is it this fellow is driving at ?" cried he, fling- ing down the letter in a rage, and walking up and down the room. " The rule of O'Connell and his followers was mild, and gentle, and forbearing, compared with the sway of these fellows. In the one case we had a fair stand-up fight — opinion met opinion,, and the struggle was an open one — but here we have an organised association to ml- vestigate the state of our resources, to pry into our private affairs, learning what pressure bears upon us here, what weak spot gives way there. They hold our creditors in leash, to slip them on us at any moment; and the threat of a confiscation — for it is just that, and nothing less — is unceasingly hanging over us I" lie stopped shiort in his torrent of passion, for the white sail of a small fishinig'-craft that just showed in the ofirng suddenly diverted his thoughts to that vision of prosperity he so lately revelled in — that pleasant dream, of a thriving watering-place — bright, sunny, and prosperous — the shore dotted with gaily-caparisoned donkeys, and the sea speckled with pleasure-boats* All the elements of that gay Elysium came up before him — the full tide of fortune setting strongly in, and coming to his very feet. Galbraith, who revelled in millions — whose rapid calculations rarely descended to ignoble thousands — had constantly impressed upon him that if Dunn only took it up, the psoject was already accomplished. " He'll start you a company, my Lord, in a week ; a splendid prospectus and an admirable set of names on the direction, with a paid-up capital to begin with, of — say 3Q,000Z. He knows to a nicety how many Stock Exchange fellows, how many M.P.s, how many county gentlemen to have. He'll stick all the plums in the right place, too ; and he'll have the shares quoted at a premium before the scrip is well out in the market. Clever fellow, my Lord — vastly clever fellow, Dunn !" And so the Earl thought too, till the letter now before him dashed that impression with' disappointment. 236 DAVENPOBT DUNN. " I'll tell you what it is, Gusty," said he, after a pause — "we must ask him down here. It is only by an actual inspection of the bay that he can form any just conception of the place. Tou must write to him for me. This gouty knuckle of mine makes penwork impossible. You can say Just find a sheet of paper, and I'll tell you what to say." Now, the noble Earl was not as ready at dictation as he had fancied, for when Lady Augusta had opened her writing-desk, arranged her writing materials, and sat, pen in hand, awaiting his suggestions, he was Btill pacing up and down the room, muttering to himself in broken and unconnected phrases, quite unsuited to the easy flow of composition. " I suppose, Gusty — I take it for granted — you must begin, ' My dear Sir'— eh ? — or, perhaps, better still, ' Dear Mr. Dunn.' " " ' Dear Mr. Dunn,' " said she, not looking up from the paper, but quietly retouching the last letters with her pen. " But I don't see why, after all, we should follow this foolish lead," said he, proudly. " The acceptance he meets from others need not dictate to us, Gusty. I'd say, 'The Earl of Glengariff' — or, ' I am requested by Lord Glengariff ' " " ' My father, Lord Glengariff,' " interposed she, quietly. " It sounds more civilly, perhaps. Be it so ;" and again he walked, up and down, in the same hard conflict of composition. At length, he burst forth : " There's nothing on earth more difficult than ad- dressing a man of this sort. Tou want his intimacy without fami- liarity. You wish to be able to obtain the benefit of his advice, and yet not incur the infliction of his dictation. In fact, you are per- fectly prepared to treat him as a valued guest, provided he never lapses into the delusion that he is your friend. Now, it would take old Metternich to write the sort of note I mean." " If I apprehend you, your wish is to ask him down here on a visit of a few days, with the intimation that you have a matter of business to communicate——" " Yes, yes," said he, impatiently, " that's very true. The business part of the matter should come in incidentally, and yet the tone of the invitation be such as to let him distinctly understand that he does not come here without an express objects Now you have my mean- ing, Gusty," said he, with the triumphant air of one who had just surmounted a difficulty. " If I have, then, I am as far as ever from knowing how to convey' it," said she, half peevishly. " I'd simply say, ' Dear Sir,' or, ' Dear Mr. Dunn, — There is a question of great moment to myself, on which your advice and counsel would be most valuable to me. If you could- DATENPOET DUNN. 237 spare me the few days a visit here would cost you, and while giving us the great pleasure of your society ' " " Too flattering by half. No, no," broke he in again. " I'll tell you what would be the effect of all that, Gusty" — and his voice swelled out full and forcibly — " the fellow would come here, and, before a week was over, he'd call me Glengariff !" She grew crimson over face, and forehead, and neck, and then almost as quickly became pale again, and, rising hastily from the table, said : " Eeally, you expect too much from my subtlety as a note-writer. I think I'd better request Mr. Dunn to look out for one of those in- valuable creatures they call companions, who pay your bills, correct your French notes, comb the lapdog, and scold your maid for you. She might be, perhaps, equal to all this nice diplomacy." " Not a bad notion by any means, Gusty," said he, quickly. " A clever woman would be inestimable for all the correspondence we are like to have soon ; far better than a man — less obtrusive — more con- fidential — not so open to jobbery ; a great point, a very great point. Dunn's the very man, too, to find out the sort of person we want." "Something more than governess, and less than lady," said she, half superciliously. " The very thing, Gusty — the very thing. Why, there are women with breeding enough to be maids of honour, and learning sufficient for a professor, whose expectations never rise beyond a paltry hundred a year — what am I saying? — sixty or seventy are nearer the mark. Now for it, Gusty. Make this object the substance of your letter. Tou can have no difficulty in describing what will suit us. We live in times, unfortunately, when people of birth and station are reduced to straitened circumstances on every hand. It reminds me just of what poorHammersley used to say : ' Do you observe,' said he, ' that whenever there's a great smash on the turf, you'll always see the coaches horsed with thorough-breds for the next year or two !' " " A very unfeeling remark, if it mean anything at all." " Never mind. "Write this letter, and say at the foot of it, * We should be much pleased if, in your journeys south' — he's always coming down to Cork and the neighbourhood — ' you could give us a few days at Glengariff Hermitage. My father has certain communications to make to you, which he is confident would exempt your visit from the reproach of mere idleness.' He'll take that ; the fellow is always flattered when you seem impressed by the immensity of his avoca- tions !" And, with a hearty chuckle at the weakness he was triumph- ing over, the old Lord left the room, while his daughter proceeded to compose her letter. 238 DAVEFPOffiT Draw. CHAPTEE XXIX. A MOUSING AT OSTEND. It would never have occurred to the mind of any one who saw An- nesley Beecher and Davie, as they sat at breakfast together in Ostend, that such a scene as we have described could have occurred between them. Not only was their tone frank and friendly with each other, but a gay and lively spirit pervaded the conversation, and two seem- ingly more light-hearted fellows it were hard to find. As the ehemist is able by the minutest drop, an almost impereep. tible atom of some subtle ingredient, to change the properties of some vast mass, altering colour, and odour, and taste at once, so did the great artist Grog Davis know how to deal with the complicated nature of Beecher, that he could at amy moment hurl him down into the blackest depths of despair, or elevate him to the highest pinnacle of hope and enjoyment. The glorious picture of a race-course, with all its attendant rogueries, betting-stands crammed with " flats," a ring crowded with " greenhorns," was a tableau of which he never wearied. Mow, this was a sort of landscape Grog touched off neatly. All the figures he introduced were life-studies, every tint, and shade, and effect taken carefully from nature. "With a masterly hand, he sketched out a sort of future campaign, artfully throwing Beecher himself into the foreground, and making him fancy that he was in some sort necessary to the great events before them. " Mumps did not touch his hock, I hope, when he kicked there ?" asked Beecher. " Call him Klepper — never forget that," remonstrated Grog ; " he's remarkably like Mumps, that's all ; but Mumps is in Staffordshire — one of the Pottery fellows has him." " So he is," laughed Beecher, pleasantly. " I know the man that owns him." " No you don't," broke in Davis ; " you've only heard his name : it is Coulson, or Cotton, or something like that. One thing, however, is certain, he values him at twelve hundred pounds, and we'd sell our horse for eight." " So we would, Grog, and be on the right side of the hedge, too." " He'd be dog cheap for it," said Davis ; " he's one of those buy DATEKPOET DUNN. 239 beggars that never wear out. I'd lay an even thousand on it, that he runs this day two years as he does to-day, and even when he hasn't speed for a flat race he'll be a rare steeple-chase horse.'' Beecher's eyes glistened, and he rubbed his hands with deligbt as he heard him. " I do like an ugly horse," resumed Davis ; " a heavy-shouldered , beast, with lob-ears, lazy eyes, and capped bocks, and if they know how to come out of a stable with a ' knuckle over' of the pastern, or a little bit lame, they're worth their weight im gold." What a merry laugh was Beecher's as he listened. " Blow me !" .cried Grog, in a sort of enthusiasm, " if some horses don't seem born ©heats — regular legs ! They drag their feet along, all weary and tired ; if you push them a bit, they shut up, or they answer the whip with a kind of shrug, as if to say, ' It ain't any use punishing me at all,' the while they go plodding in, at the tail of the others, till within five, or maybe four lengths of the win- ning-post, and then you see them stretching — it ain't a stride, it's a stretch — you can't say how it's done, but they draw on — on — on, till you see half a head in front, and there they stay — just doing it — no more." " Mumps is exactly " " Klepper — remember, he's Klepper," said Grog, mildly. " Klepper, to be sure — how can I forget it ?" " I hope that fellow Conway is off," said (Grog. " Tes, he started by the train for Liege — thind-ckiss, too — -must be pretty hard up, I take it, to travel that way." " Good enough for a fellow that's been roughing it in the ranks these two years." " He's a gentleman, though, for aU that," broke in Beecher. " And Strawberry ran at Donoaster, and I saw him t'other day in a 'bus. Now, I'd like to know how much better be is for having once been a racer ?" " Blood always tells " " In a horse, Beecher, in a horse, not in a man. Haven't I got a deal of noble blood in my veins ? — ain't I able to show a thorough- bred pedigree?" said he, mockingly. "Well, let me see the fellow will stand at eight paces from the muzzle of a rifle-pistol more cool, or who'll sight his man more calm than I will." There was a tinge of defiance in the way these words were said that by no means contributed to the ease of him who heard them. " When do we go for Brussels, Grog ?" asked he, anxious to cbaage the subject. 240 BATENPOET DUH1T. " Here's the map of tlie country," said Davis, producing a card scrawled over with lines and figures. " Brussels, the 12th and 14th, Spa, the 20th, Aix, the 25th. Then you might take a shy at Dus- seldorf, / can't ; I winged a Prussian major there five years ago, and they won't let me in. I'll meet you at Wiesbaden, and we'll have a week at the tables. You'll have to remember that I'm Captain Oristopher so long as we're on the Rhine ; once at Baden, ' Bichard's himself again !' " " Is this for either of you, gentlemen ?" said the waiter, present- ing an envelope from the telegraph-office. "Yes. I'm Captain Davis," said Grog, as he broke the seal. " ' Is the Dean able to preach ? — may we have a collection ? Telegraph back. — Tom,' " read Davis, slowly, aloud ; and then added, " Ain't he a flat to be always a telegraphing these things ? As if every fellow in the office couldn't see his game." " Spicer, is it ?" asked Beecher. " Yes ; he wants to hear how the horse is — if there's good run- ning in him, and what he's to lay on ; but that's no way to ask it. I mind the day, at Wolverton, when Lord Berrydale got one of these: 'Your mother is better — they are giving her tonics.' And I whispered to George Bigby, ( It's about Butterfly, his mare, that's in for the York, and that's to say, ' She's all safe, lay heavy on it.' And so I hedged round, and backed her up to eight thousand — ay, and I won my money ; and when Berrydale said to me, after the race was over, ' Grog,' says he, ' you seem to have had a glimpse of the line of country this time,' says I to him, ' Yes, my Lord,' says I ; 'and I'm glad to find the tonics agree with your Lordship's mo- ther.' Didn't he redden up to the roots of his hair ! and when he turned away he said, ' There's no coming up to that fellow Davis !' " " But I wonder you let him see that you were in his secret," said Beecher. " That was the way to treat Mm. If it was Baynton or Herries, I'd not have said a word ; but I knew Berrydale was sure to let me have a Bhare in the first good thing going, just out of fear of me, and so he did ; that was the way I came to back Old Bailey." It was now Beecher's turn to gaze with admiring wonder at this great intelligence, and certainly his look was veneration itself. " Here's another despatch," cried Davis, as the waiter presented another packet like the former one. " We're like Secretaries of State to-day," added he, laughing, as he tore open the envelope. This time, however, he did not read the contents aloud, but sat slowly pondering over the lines to himself. DATBNPOET DUNN. 241 " It's not Spicer again ?" asked Beecher. " No," was the brief reply. " Nor that other fellow — that German with the odd name ?" " No." " Nothing about Mumps— Klepper, I mean— nothing about him ?" "Nothing: it don't concern him at all. It's not about anything you ever heard of before," said Davis, as he threw a log of wood on the fire, and kicked it with his foot. " I'll have to go to Brussels to- night. I'll have to leave this by the four o'clock train," said he, looking at his watch. " The horse isn't fit to move for twenty-four, hours, so you'll remain here ; he mustn't be left without one of us, you know." " Of course not. But is there anything so very urgent " " I suppose a man is best judge of his own affairs," said Davis, rudely. Beecher made no reply, and a long and awkward silence ensued. " Let him have one of the powders in a linseed mash," said Davis, at last, " and see that the bandages are left on — only a little loose — at night. Tom must remain with him in the box on the train, and I'll look out for you at the station. If we shouldn't meet, come straight to the Hotel Tirlemont, where all will be ready for you." " Bemember, Grog, I've got no money ; you haven't trusted me with a single Napoleon." " I know that ; here's a hundred francs. Look out sharp, for you'll have to account for every centime of it when we meet. Dine up- stairs here, for if you go down to the ordinary you'll be talking to every man Jack you meet — ay, you know you will." " Egad ! it's rather late in the day to school me on the score of manners." " I'm not a talking of manners, I'm speaking of discretion — of com- mon prudence — things you're not much troubled with ; you're just as fit to go alone in life as I am to play the organ at an oratorio." " Many thanks for the flattery," said Beecher, laughing. "What would be the good of flattering you?" broke out Grog. "You ain't rich, that one could borrow from you; you haven't a great house, where one could get dinners out of you ; you're not even the head of your family, that one might draw something out of your rank — you ain't anything." " Except your friend, Grog Davis ; pray don't rob me of that dis- tinction," said Beecher, with a polished courtesy the other felt more cutting than any common sarcasm. "It's the best leaf in your book, whatever you may think of it," E 242 DAVENPOBT BOUT. said Davis, sternly ; " and it will be a gloomy morning for yom when- ever you cease to be it." " I don't intend it, old fellow ; I'll never tear up the deed of part- nership, you may rely upon that. The old-established firm of Beecher and Davis, or Davis and Beecher — for I don't care which — shall last my time, alt least ;" and he held out his hand with a cordiality that even Grog felt irresistible, for he grasped and shook it heartily. " If I could only 'get you to run straight, I'd make a man of you," said Grog, eyeing him fixedly. " There's mot a fellow in England could do as much for you as I could. There's nobody knows what's in you as I do, and there's nobody knows where you break down like me." " True, O Grog, every word of it." " I'd fut you in the first place in the sporting world — I'd have your name at the top of the list at " the Turf." In six months from this day — this very day — I'd bind myself to make Annesley Beecher the foremost man at Newmarket. But just on one condition." "And that?" " Xou should take a solemn oafch — I'd make it a solemn one, I promise you — never to 'question anything I decided in your behalf, but obey me to the fetter in whatever I ordered. Three months of that servitude, arod ysm'd come out -what I've promised you." " I'll swear it this moment," cried Beecher. " "Will you ?" asked Davis, eagerly. " In the most solemn and formal manner you can dictate an oath to me. I'll take it now, only premising you'll not ask me anything against the laws." " Nothing like hanging, nor even transportation," said Grog, laugh- ing, while Beecher's face grew crimson, and then pale. " No — no ; all I'll ask is easily done, and not within a thousand miles of a mis- demeanour. But you isfaall just think it over quietly. I don't want a ' catch match.' You shall have time to reconsider what I have sad, and when we meet at Brussels you can tell me your mind." " Agreed $ only I hold you to your bargain, remember, if / don't change." " I'll stand to what I've said," said Davis. " Now, remember, the Hdtel Tirlemout ; and so, good-by, for I must pack up." "When the door closed after him, Annesley Beecher walked the room, discussing with himself the meaning of Davis's late words. "Well did he know that to restore himself to rank, and credit, and fair fame, was a labour of no common difficulty. How was he ever to get back to that station, forfeited by so many derelictions ? Davis might, DAVENPORT DUNN. 2i3 it is true, get his bills discounted — might hit upon fifty clever expe- dients for raising the wind — might satisfy this one, compromise with that ; he might even manage so cleverly, that race-courses and betting- rooms would be once more open to him. But what did — what could Grog know of that higher world where once he had moved, and .to which, by his misdeeds, he had forfeited all claim to return ? Why, Davis didn't even know the names of those men whose slightest words are verdicts upon character. AH England was not Ascot, and Grog only recognised a world peopled with gentlemen riders and jocks, and a landscape dotted with flagstaffs, and closed in with a stand- house. " No, no," said he to himself; " that's a fight above you, Master Davis. It's not to be thought of." CHAPTEE XXX. THE OPERA. A DiNGr old den enough is the Hotel Tirlemont, with its How- arched porte-cochere and its narrow windows, smal-paned andiron- barred. It rather resembles one of those antiquated hostels you see in the background of an Ostade or a Teniers than the smart edifice which we mow-a-days look for in an hotel. Such was certainly tJae opinion of Annesley Beecher as he arrived there on the evening after that parting with Davis we have just spoken of. Twice did he ask the guide who accompanied him " if this was really the Tirlemont ?" anid * if there were not some other hotel of the same name ?" and while he half hesitated whether he should enter, a waiter respectfully stepped forward to ask if he were the gentleman whose apartmemt had been ordered by Captain Davis ; a demand to which, with a sullen assent, he yielded, and slowly mounted the stairs. " Is the Captain at home ?" asked he. "No, Sir; he went off to the railway station to meet vou. Mademoiselle, however, w up-stairs." "Mademoiselle!" cried Beecher, stopping, and opening wide his eyes in astonishment. "This is something new" muttered he " When did she eome ?" " Last night, Sir, after dinner." e2 244 DAVENPOET DUNK. " "Where from ?" i " From a Pensiomiat outside the Porte de Seharbeck, I think, Sir ; at least, her maid described it as in that direction." " And what is she called — Mademoiselle Violette, or Virginie, or Ida, or what is it, eh ?" asked he, jocularly. " Mademoiselle, Sir — only Mademoiselle — the Captain's daughter!" " His daughter !" repeated he, in*increased wonderment, to himself. " Can this be possible ?" " There is no doubt of it, Sir. The lady of the Pensionnat brought her here last night in her own carriage, and I heard her, as she entered the salon, say, ' Now, Mademoiselle, that I have placed you in the hands of your father ' and then the door closed." " I never knew he had a daughter," muttered Beecher to himself. " "Which is my room ?" " "We have prepared this one for you, but to-morrow you shall have a more comfortable one, with a look-out over the lower town." " Put me somewhere where I shan't hear that confounded piano, I beg of you. "Who is it rattles away that fashion ?" " Mademoiselle, Sir." " To be sure — I ought to have guessed it ; and sings too, 111 be bound?" " Like Grisi, Sir," responded the waiter, enthusiastically, for the Tirlemont being frequented by the artistic class, had given him great opportunity for forming his taste. Just at this moment a rich, full voice swelled forth in one of the '-popular airs of Verdi, but with a degree of ease and freedom that showed the singer soared very far indeed above the pretensions of mere amateurship. " "Wasn't I right, Sir ?" asked the waiter, triumphantly. " You'll not hear anything better at the Grand Opera." " Send me up. some hot water, and open that portmanteau," said Beecher, while he walked on towards the door of the salon. He hesitated for a second or two about then presenting himself, but as he thought of Grog Davis, and what Grog Davis's daughter must be like, he turned the handle and entered. A lady arose from the piano as the door opened, and even in the half-darkened room Beecher could perceive that she was graceful, and with an elegance in her gesture for which he was in no wise prepared. " Have I the honour to address Miss Davis ?" " Tou are Mr. Annesley Beecher, the gentleman my Papa has been expecting," said she, with an easy smile. " He has just gone off to meet you." BATENPOBT DUNN . 245 Nothing could be more common-place than these words, but they were uttered in a way that at once declared the breeding of the. speaker. She spoke to the friend of her father, and there was a tone of one who felt that even in a first meeting a certain amount of inti- macy might subsist between them. " It's yery strange," said Beecher, " but your father and I have been friends this many a year — close friends, too — and I never as much as suspected he had a daughter. What a shame of him not to have given me the pleasure of knowing you before." "It was a pleasure he was chary enough of to himself," said she, laughing. " I have been at school nearly four years, and have only- seen him once, and then for a few hours." " Yes — but really," stammered out Beecher, "fascinations — charms such as " " Pray, Sir, don't distress yourself about turning a compliment. I'm quite sure I'm very attractive, but I don't in the least want to be told so. Tou see," she added, after a pause, " I'm presuming upon what Papa has told me of your old friendship to be very frank with you.'' " I'm enchanted at it," cried Beecher. " Egad ! if you ' cut out all the work,' though, I'll scarcely be able to follow you." " Ah ! so here you are before me," cried Davis, entering, and shaking his hand cordially. " Tou had just driven off when I reached the station. All right, I hope ?" " All right, thank you." ' , ' - ; 4 " You've made Lizzy's acquaintance, I see, so I needn't introduce you. She knows you this many a day." " But why have I not had the happiness of knowing her?" asked Beecher. " How's Klepper ?" asked Grog, abruptly. "The swelling gone out of the hocks yet?" " Yea ; he's clean as a whistle." " The wind-gall, too — has that gone ?" " Going rapidly ; a few days' walking exercise will make him per- fect." " No news of Spicer and his German friend — though I expected to have had a telegraph all day yesterday. But come, these are not in- teresting matters for Lizzy — we'll have up dinner, and see about a box for the Opera." " A very gallant thought, Papa, which I accept of with pleasure." " I must dress, I suppose," said Beecher, half asking, for even yet he could not satisfy his mind what amount of observance was due to the daughter of Grog Davis. 2&ft DATEMTOET DTTSW. "■ I conclude youi must," said she, smiling ; " and I, too,, must make a suitable toilette ;" and, with a slight bow and a little smile, she swept, past them out of the room. "How close jam hare been, old fellow — close as wax — about this," said Beecher ; " and, hang me, if she mightn't be daughter to the proudest duke in England !" "So she might," said G-rog; "and it was to make her so, I have consented to this life of separation. "What respect and deference would the fellows show my dcugbtee when I wasn't by ? How much de&acy would she meet with when the fear of an ounce ball wasn't over them ? And was I going to bring her up in such a set as you and I live with ? "Was a young creature like that to begin the world without seeing one man that wasn't a ' leg;' or one woman that wasn't worse ? "Was it by lessons of robbery and cheating her mind was to- be stored ? And was she to start in life by thinking that a hell was high society ? Look at her now" said he, sternly, " and say if I was in Norfolk Island to-morrow, where' s the fellow would have the pluck to insult her ? It is true she doesn't know me as you and the others know me ; but the man that would let her into that secret would never tell her another." There was a terrible fierceness in his eye as he spoke, and the words came from him with a hiss- ing sound, like the venomous threatenings of a serpent. " She knows nothing of my life nor my ways. Except your own name, she never heard me mention one of the fellows we live with. She knows you to be the brother of Lord Tiscoumt Lackington,. and that you are the Honourable Annesley Beecher, that's all she knows oiyou; ain't that little enough ?" Beecher tried to laugh easily at this speech, but it was only a very poor and faint attempt after all. K She thinks me a man of fortune, and you an unblemished gentle- man, and if that be not innocence, I'd like to know what is ! Of where, how, and with whom we pick up our living, she knows as much as we do about the Bench of Bishops." " I must confess I don't think the knowledge would improve her !" said Beecher, with a laugh. A fierce and savage glance from Davis, however, very quickly arrested this jocularity, and Beecher, in a graver tone, resumed : "It was a deuced fine thing of you, Grog, to do thia There's not another fellow living would have had the head to think of it. But now that she has come home to you, how do you mean to carry on the cam- paign ? A girl like that can't live secluded from the world — she must go out into society ? Have you thought of that ?" DATENPOBT D'TTIOr. 247 " I have thought of it," rejoined Davis, bluntly, but in a tone that by no means invited further inquiry. " Her style and her manner fit her for the best set anywhere—" " That's where I intend her ten be," broke in Davis., "I need scarcely tell as clever a fellow as you," said Beecher, mildly, " that there's nothing so difficult as to find footing among these people. Great wealth may obtain it, or great patronage. There are women in London who can do that sojjt of thing ; there are iast two or three such, and you may imagine how difficult it is to secure their favour." " They're all cracked teacups those women yoiu speaik of; one has only to know where the flaw is, and see how easily managed they aie!" Beecher smiled at this remark ; he chuckled to himself, too, to see that for once the wily Grog Davis had gone out of his depth, and adV Temtnred to discuss people and habits of which he knew nothing'; but unwilling to prolong a controversy so delicate, he hurried away to his room to dress. Davis, too, retired on a similar errand, and a student of life might have been amused to have taken a peep into the two dressing-rooms. As for Beeeher, it was but the work of a few minutes to array himself in dinner costume. It was a routine task that he performed without a thought on its details. All was ready at his hand, and even to the immaculate tie, which seemed the work of patience and skill, he despatched the whole performance in less than a quarter of an hour. Not so Davis ; he ransacked drawers and port- manteaus — covered the bed, the chairs, amd the table with garments — tried on and took off again — endeavoured to make colours har- monise — or hit upon happy contrasts. He was bent on appearing a "swell," and unquestionably when he did issue forth, with a camaary- coloured vest, and a green coat with gilt buttons, his breast a galaxy of studs and festooned chains, it would have been unfair to say he had not succeeded. Beecher had but time to compliment him on his "get up," when Miss. Davis, entered. Though her dress was simply the quiet costume of a young unmarried girl, there was in her carriage and bearing, as she came in, all the graceful ease of the best society, and lighted up by the lamps of the apartment, Beecher saw to his astonishment the most beautiful girl he had ever beheld. It was not alone the fault- less delicacy of her face, but there was that mingled gentleness and pride, that strange blending of softness and seriousness, which sit so well on the high-born, giving a significance to every gesture or word of those whose every movement is so measured, and every 248 DATEFPOET DTJNN. syllable so carefully uttered. " Why wasn't she a Countess in her own right ?" thought he ; " that girl might have all London at her feet." The dinner went on very pleasantly. Davis, too much occupied in listening to his daughter, or watching the astonishment of Beecher, scarcely ever spoke, but the others chatted away about whatever came uppermost in a light and careless tone that delighted him. Beecher was not sorry at the opportunity of a little display. He was glad to show Davis that in the great world of society he could play no insignificant part, and so he put forth all his little talents as a talker, with choice anecdotes of " smart people,'' and the sayings and doings of a set which, to Grog, were as much myths as the inscriptions on an Assyrian monument. Lizzy Davis evidently took interest in his account of London and its life. She liked, too, to hear about the families of her schoolfellows, some of whom bore "cognate" names, and she listened with actual eagerness to descriptions of the gorgeous splendour and display of a town " season." " And I am to see all these fine things, and know all these fine people, Papa ?" asked she. " Yes, I suppose so — one of these days, at least," muttered Grog, not caring to meet Beecher's eye. " I don't think you care for this kind of life so much as Mr. Beecher, Pa. Is their frivolity too great for your philosophy ?" " It ain't that!" muttered Grog, growing confused. " Then do tell me, now, something of the sort of people you are fond of; the chances are that I shall like them just as well as the others." Beecher and Davis exchanged glances of most intense significance, and were it not from downright fear Beecher would have burst out laughing. " Then I will ask Mr. Beecher," said she, gaily. " You'll not be so churlish as Papa, I'm certain. You'll tell me what his world is like ?" " "Well, it's a very smart world, too," said Beecher, slyly enjoying the malicious moment of worrying Grog with impunity. " Not so many pretty women in it, perhaps, but plenty of movement, plenty of fun, eh ! Davis ? Are you fond of horses, Miss Davis ?" ' " Passionately, and I flatter myself I can ride, too. By the way, is it true, Papa, you have brought a horse from England for me ?" " "Who could have told you that ?" said Davis, almost sternly. " My maid heard it from a groom that has just arrived, but with DAVENTOBT DTTNN. 249 such secrecy that I suppose I have destroyed all the pleasure of the surprise you intended me ; never mind, dearest Pa, I am just as grateful " " Grateful for nothing," broke in Davis. " The groom is a prating rascal, and your maid ought to mind her own affairs." Then redden- ing to his temples with shame at his ill-temper, he added, " There ia a horse, to be sure, but he ain't much of a lady's palfrey." " "What would you say to her riding Klepper in the Allee Verte — it might be a rare stroke ?" asked Beecher, in a whisper to Davis. " Do you think that she is to be brought into our knaveries ? Is that all you have learned from what I've been saying to you ?" whis- pered Davis, with a look of such savage ferocity that Beecher grew sick at heart with terror. ' " I'm sorry to break in upon such confidential converse," said she, laughingly, " buj; pray remember we are losing the first scene of the opera." " I'm at your orders," said Beecher, as with his accustomed easy gallantry he stepped forward to offer her his arm. The opera was a favourite one, and the house was crowded in every part. As in all cities of a certain rank, the occupants of the boxes, with a few rare exceptions, were the same well-known people who night after night follow along the worn track of pleasure. To them the stage is but a secondary object, to which attention only wanders at intervals. The house itself, the brilliant blaze of beauty, the splendour of diamonds, the display of dress, and, more than all these, the subtle by-play of intrigue, detectable only by eyes deep-skilled and trained — these form the main attractions of a scene wherein our modern civilisation is more strikingly exhibited than in any other situation. Scarcely had Lizzy Davis taken her seat than a low murmur of wondering admiration ran through the whole house, and, in the freedom which our present-day habits license, every opera-glass was turned towards her. Totally unconscious of the admiration she was exciting, her glances ranged freely over the theatre in every part, and her eyes were directed from object to object in amazement at the gorgeousness of the scene around her. Seated far back in the box, entirely screened from view, her father, too, perceived nothing of that strange manifestation, wherein a sort of homage is blended with a degree of impertinence, but watched the stage with intense eagerness. Very different from the feelings of either father or daughter were the feelings of Annesley Beecher. He knew well the Opera and its habits, and as thoroughly saw that it is to the world of fashion what Tat- 2S0 DiVESPOM BTTIKH". tersal's or the Turf is to the -world of sport— the great ring where every match is hooked, every engagement registered, and every new aspirant for success canvassed and discussed. There was not ai glance turned towards the unconscious girl at Iris side but he could read its secret import. How often had it been his own lot to stare up from his stall at some fair face,, unknown to that little world which arro- gates to itself all knowledge, and mingle his criticism with all the impertinences fashion loves to indulge in. The steady stare of some, the unwilling admiration of others, the ironical gaze of more, were all easy of interpretation by him, and for the very first time in his life be became aware of the fact that it was possible to be unjust with regard to the unknown. As the piece proceeded, and her interest in the pJay increased, a slightly heightened colour, and an expression of half eagerness, gave to her beauty all that it had wanted before of animation, and there was now an expression of such captivation on her face, that, carried awaj by that mysterious sentiment which sways masses, sending its secret spell from heart to heart, the whole auidiemce turned from the scene to watch its varying effects upon that beautiful countenance. The opera was the Bigoletto, amd she continued to translate to her father the touching story of that sad old man, who, lost to every sentiment of honour, still cherished in his heart of hearts his daughter's love. The terrible contrast between his mockery of the world and his affection for his home, the bitter consciousness of how he treated others, conjuring up the terrors of what yet might be his own fate, came to him in her words, as the stage revealed their action, and gradually he leaned over in his eagerness till his head projected outside the box. "There — wasn't I right about her ?" said a voice from one of the stalls beneath. " That's Grog Davis. I know the fellow well" " I've won my wager," said another. " There's old Grog leaning over her shoulder, and there can't be much doubt about her now." " Annesley Beecher at one side, and Grog Davis at the other,'' said a thiri, " make the case very easy reading. I'll go round and get presented to her." " Let us leave this, Davis," whispered Beecher, while he tremblec from head to foot — " let us leave this at once. Come down to the crush-room, and I'll find a carriage." " Why so — what do you mean ?" said Davis, and as suddenly h* followed Beeeber's glance towards the pit, whence every eye was turned towards them. ay. w Qy/r&nc€*te a^tne- vtas DAVENFOET DUNN. 251 That glance was- not to be mistaken. It was the steady and inso- lent stare the world bestows upon those who have neither champions nor defenders; and Davis returned the gaze with a defiance as insulting. "For any sake, Davis, let us getaway," whispered Beecher again. " Only think of Tier, if there should be any exposure !" " Exposure !— how should there ? "WhoM dare " Before he camldt finish, the curtain at the back of the box was rudelyidrawn aside, and a tall, handsome man, with a certain swagger- ing ease of manner that seemed to assert his right to- be there iff he pleased, came forward,, saying : " How goes, it,, Davis ? I just caught a glimpse of that charm- ing—" "A word with you,. Captain. Hamilton," said Davis,, between his teeth, as he pijshed the other towards the door. "As many as you like, old fellow, by-and-by. Tor the present, I mean to establish myself here." "That you shan't;, by Heaven !" cried Davis, as he placed himself in front of him. " Leave this, Sir, at once." " Why, the fellow is deranged," said Hamilton, laughing, ; " or is it jealousy, old boy ?" "With a violent push, Davis drove him backwards, .and ere he could recover, following up the impulse, he thrust him outside the box, hur- riedly passing outside, and shuttingthe door after bim. So jrapidly and so secretly had all this occurred, that Lizzy saw nothing of it,, all her attention being eagerly fixed on the .stage. Not so Beecher. He had marked it all, and now sat listening in terror to the words of high altercation in the lobby. From sounds that boded liter insult and outrage, the noise gradually decreased to more measured tones; thencame a few words in whisper, and Davis, softly drawing the curtain, stepped gemtly to his chair at hia daughter's back„ A hasty sign to Beecher gave him to understand that all was settled quietly,, and the incident was. over. " You'll not think me very churlish if I rob. you of one act of the opera, Lizzy ?" said Davis, as the curtain fell ; " but I have a racking headache, which all this light and heat are only increasing." " Let us go at onee, dearest Papa," said she, rising. " Tou should have told me of this before. There, Mr. Beecher, you needn't leave this " "She's quite right," said Davis; "you must remain." And the words were uttered with a certain significance that Beecher well understood as a command. 252 DA.VENPOBT DTTNN. It was past midnight when Annesley Beecher returned to the hotel, and both Davis and his daughter had already gone to their rooms. " Did your master leave any message for me ?" said he to the groom who acted as Davis's valet. "No, Sir, not a word." " Do you know, would he see me ? Could you ask him ?" said he. The man disappeared for a few minutes, and then coming back, said, " Mr. Davis is fast asleep, Sir, and I dare not disturb him." " Of course not," said Beecher, and turned away. " How that fellow can go to bed and sleep, after such a business as that !" muttered Beecher, as he drew his chair towards the fire, and sat ruminating over the late incident. It was in a spirit of tri- umphant satisfaction that he called to mind the one solitary point in which he was the superior of Davis — class and condition — and he revelled in the thought that men like Grog make nothing but blunders when they attempt the habits of those above them. " "With all his shrewdness," said he to himself, half aloud, " he could not perceive that he has been trying an impossibility. She is beyond them all in beauty, her manners are perfect, her breeding unexceptionable ; and yet, there she is, Grog Davis's daughter ! Ay, Grog, my boy, you'll see it one of these days. It's all to no use. Enter her for what stakes you like, she'll be always disqualified. There's only one thing carries these attempts through — if you could give her a pot of money. Tes, Master Davis, there are fellows — and with good blood in their veins — that, for fifty or sixty thousand pounds, would marry even your daughter." With this last remark he finished all his reflections, and proceeded to prepare for bed. Sleep, however, would not come ; he was restless and uneasy ; the incident in the theatre might get abroad, and his own name be men- tioned ; or it might be that Hamilton, knowing well who and what Davis was, would look to him, Beecher, for satisfaction. There was another pleasant eventuality — to be drawn into a quarrel and shot for Grog Davis's daughter ! To be the travelling companion of such a man was bad enough — to risk being seen with him on railroads and steam-boats was surely sufficient — but to be paraded in places of public amusement, to be dragged before the well-dressed world, not as his chance associate, but as a member of his domestic circle, chaperoning his daughter to the Opera, was downright intolerable! And thus was it that this man, who had been dunned and insulted by creditors, hunted from place to place by sheriffs' officers, browbeaten BATBNPOET DUNN. 253 by bankruptcy practitioners, stigmatised by the press, haunted all the while by a conscience that whispered there was even worse hang- ing over him, yet did he feel more real terror from the thought of how he would be regarded by his own " order" for this unseemly inti- macy, than shame for all his deeper and graver transgressions. " No," said he, at last, springing from his bed, and lighting his candle, " I'll be off. I'll cut my lucky, Master Grog ; and here goes to write you half a dozen lines to break the fact to you. I'll call it a sudden thought — a notion — that I ought to see Lackington at once. I'll say that I couldn't think of subjecting Miss Davis to the incon- venience of that rapid mode of travelling I feel to be so imminently necessary. I'll tell him that as I left the theatre, I saw one of Fordyce's clerks, that the fellow knew me and grinned, and that I know I shall be arrested if I stay here. I'll hint that Hamilton, who is highly connected, will have the English Legation at us all. Con- found it, he'll believe none of these. I'll just say " Here he took his pen and wrote : " Deae D., — After we parted last night, a sudden caprice seized me that I'd start off at once for Italy. Had you been alone, old fellow, I should never have thought of it ; but seeing that I left you in such charming company, with one — with one whose [' No, that won't do — I must strike out that ;' and so he murmured over the lines ending in ' company,' and then went on] — I have no misgivings about being either missed or wanted. — [' Better, per- haps, missed or regretted.'] We have been too long friends to [' No, we are too old pals, that's better — he doesn't care much for friendship'] — too old pals to make me suspect you will be displeased with this— this unforeseen [' That's a capital word ! — unforeseen what ? It's always calamity comes after unforeseen ; but I can't call it calamity'] — unforeseen ' bolt over the ropes,' and believe me as ever, or believe me ' close as wax,' "Yours, A. B." " A regular diplomatic touch, I call that note," said he, as he re- read it to himself with much complacency. " Lackington thinks me a 'flat ;' then let any one 'read that, and say if the fellow that wrote it is a fool." And now he sealed and directed his epistle, having very nearly addressed it to Grog, instead of to Captain, Davis. " His temper won't be angelic when he gets it," muttered he, " but I'll be close to Liege by that time." And with this very reassuring 254 DAVENPOBX DOTH. reflection he jumped into bed again, determining to remain awake till daybreak. "Wearied out at last -with watching, Amnesley Beecher fell off asleep, and so soundly too, that it was not till twice spoken to, he could arouse and awaken. " Eh, what is it, Rivers ?" cried he, as he saw the trim training- groom at his side. " Anything wrong with the horse ?" " No, Sir, nothing ; he's all right, anyhow." " "What is it, then ; any one from town looking for us ?" " No, Sir, nobody whatever. It's the Captain himself " "What of him? is he ill?" " Sound as a roach, Sir ; he's many a mile off by this. Says he to me, ' Eivers,' says he, ' when yam gets back to the Tirlemont, pie this note to Mr. Beeeher ; he'll tell you afterwards what's to be done. Only,' says he, ' don't forget to rub a little of the white oils on that near hock ; very weak, 5 says he, ' be sure it's very weak, bo as not to blister him.' Ain't he a wonderful man, Sir, to be thinking o' that at such a moment ?" " Draw the curtain there — let me have more light," cried Beecher, eagerly, as he opened the small and crumpled piece of paper. Ike contents were in pencil, and very brief : " I'm off through the Ardennes towards Treves ; come up to Ak with my daughter, and wait there till you hear from me. There's a vacant ' troop' in the Horse Guards Blue this morning. Eivers can tell you aU.— Tours, C. D." " What has happened, Eivers ?" cried he, in intense anxiety. " Tell me at once." " Sir, it don't take long to tell. It didn't take very long to do. It was three, or maybe half-past, this morning, the Captain comes to my room, and says, ' Eivers, get up ; be lively,' says he ; ' dress yourself, and go over to Jonesse, that fellow as has the shooting-gallery, give Him this note, he'll just read it, and answer it at once ; then run over to Burton's and order a coup6, with two smart horses, to be here at five ; after that come back quickly, for I want a few things packed up.' He made a sign to me that all was to be ' dark,' and so away I went, and before three-quarters of an hour was baek here again. At five to the minute the carriage came to the corner of the Park, and we stepped out quietly, and when we reached it, there was Jonesse inside, with a tidy little box on his knee. ' Oh, is that it ?' said I, for I knowed what that box meant — ' is that it ?' "'Yes,' says the Captain, ' that's it; get up and make him drive BAVENBOBT DUNN. -2*? briskly to Boitsfort.' "We were, a bit late, I ■ think* tfofr the. others was there when we got up, and I heard them grumbling something iabotat being behind time. ' Egad;' says. the Captain, ' yon'I fiad weVe'oome early enough before we've done with you.' . T^ey.wefie firttel words, -Sir, now that I think how he tumbled him over stone dead in a moment." "Who dead?" ' ' . ;,- " That fine, handsome young man, with tike Hgb,t-fewH beard-^- HaaMiilijon,they-saidihaB name was ; — and a nicer fellow you couldn't wish to see. I'll never forget him. as belay itihere etretehfid on, thegrass, and the small blue hole! in his forehead— you'd not believe it was ever half, the size of a bullet — and' Ms glare in his left hand, all so naiural as if he was alive. I believe I'd have been standing tbeue yet, looking at him, when the Captain called, me, and .said, ' Ewers, take these stirrups up a hole'— for be had a>addle-horse all ready for him—'and give.this note to Mr . Beecher ; he'll give you his orders about JOeppeir/ gays key '. but mnind you look to that hock.' ", <* And Captain Hamilton was killed J" muttered Beecher,: while be trembled'frooi head to foot at the tenabjb tidings. " Killed-*4ead-r^be merer moved, a finger after he fell!!" , K What did his friend do ?. Bid be say any thing ? — did he^fBak.?" " He dropped down on bis knees beside him, and caught him fey the band, and erie'd out, " ■George, my own dear fellow— George, speak to me;' but George never spoke another word." . v . ' And Davis — Captain Davis, what did be do?" ; ; , " He shook hands with Jonesse, and said something in< French that made bim laugh, and then going over to where the body 'lay, be said, ' Colonel Humphrey,' says he','.' you are a witness, that ajl was fair and honourable, and that if this unhappy affair ever comes to be—' and then the Colonel moved his hand for him" to be off, and not speak to, him.' . And so the Captain took his advice, and got into the saddle ; but I beard him mutter something about ' teaching the Colonel better manners' next time they met." " And then he rode away ?" "Yes; he turned into the wood, at a walking, pace, for he was lighting his cigar. I saw no more of him, after that, for they called me to help them with the body, 1 and it was all we could do, four of us, to carry him to the road where the carriage was standing." " Did you ever bear them mention my name amongst them ?" asked Beecher, tremblingly. "No, Sir;. nobody spoke of you but my master, when be handed me the note." 256 DAVENPORT DUNN. " "What a sad business it has all been !" exclaimed Beecher, half aloud. " I suppose it would go hard with the Captain, Sir, if he was caught P" said Bivers, inquiringly. Again Beecher read over the note, pondering every word as he went. " "What a sad business !" murmured he, " and all for nothing, or next to nothing !" Then, as if suddenly rousing himself to action, he said, " Bivers, we must get away at once. Take this passport to the police, and then look after a horse-box for the next train to Liege. "We shall start at two o'clock." " That's just what the Captain said, Sir. ' Don't delay in Brussels,' says he ; ' and don't you go a talking about this morning's work. If . they have you up for examination — mind that you saw nothing — you heard nothing — you know nothing.' " "Send Miss Davis's maid here," said Beecher; "and then see about those things I've mentioned to you." Mademoiselle Annette was a French Swiss who very soon appre- hended that a " difficulty" had occurred somewhere, which was to be kept secret from her young mistress, and though sbe smiled with a peculiar significance at the notion of Miss Davis travelling under Beecher' s protection, she did so with all the decorum of her gifted class. " You'll explain everything, Annette," said Beecher, who, in his confusion, was eager to throw any amount of burden or responsibility upon another ; " you'll tell her whatever you like as to the cause of his going away, and I'll swear to it." " Monsieur need not give himself any trouble," was the ready an- swer ; " all shall be cared for." DAVESPORT DOTS'. 257 CHAPTEE XXXI. EXPLANATIONS. What a sad pity it is that the great faculty of " making things comfortable," that gifted power which blends the announcement with the explanation of misfortune, should be almost limited to that nar- row guild in life to which Mademoiselle Annette belonged. The happy knack of half-informing and all-mystifying would be invaluable on the Treasury benches, and great proficients as some of our public men are in this walk, how immeasurably do they fall short of the dexterity of the " soubrette." So neatly and so cleverly had Annette performed her task, that when Miss Davis met Beecher at breakfast, she felt that a species of reserve was necessary as to the reasons of her father's flight, that as he had not directly communicated with herself, her duty was simply to accept of the guidance he had dictated to her. Besides this, let it be owned, she had not yet rallied from the overwhelming astonish- ment of her first meeting with her father, so utterly was he unlike all that her imagination had pictured him ! Nothing could be more affectionate, nothing kinder, than his reception ; a thoughtful anxiety for her comfort pervaded all he said. The gloomy old Tirlemont even caught up an air of home as she passed the threshold, but still . he was neither in look, manner, nor appearance, what she fancied. All his self-restraint could not gloss over his vulgarity, nor all his reserve conceal his defects in breeding. His short, dictatorial manner with the servants — his ever present readiness to confront nobody saw what peril — a suspectful insistance upon this or that mark of defer- ence as of a right of which he might possibly be defrauded, — all gave to his bearing a tone of insolent defiance that at once terrified and repelled her. To all her eager questionings as to their future life, where and how it was to be passed, he would only answer vaguely or evasively. He met her inquiries about the families and friends of her schoolfellows in the same way. Of her pleasures and pursuits, her love of music, and her skill in drawing, he could not even speak with those conven- tionalities that disguise ignorance or indifference. Of the great world — the " Swells" he would have called them — he only knew such as s 258 DAVENPOBT DUNN. were ojAthe turf. Of the Opera, he might possibly tell the price of a stall, hut not the name of a singer ; and as to his own future, what or where it should be, Grog no more knew than who would be first favourite for the Leger a century hence. To "fence off" any at- tempt " to pump him" in the Ring, to dodge a clever cross-examiner in a court of justice, Davis would have proved himself second to none — these were games of skill, which he could play with the best — but it was a very different task to thread his way through the geography of a land he had not so much as heard of, and be asked to act as guide through regions whose very names were new to him. The utmost that Lizzy could glean from that long first evening's talk was, jAfA her father had few or no political ambitions — rather shffi&afl the great world— cared little for Dukes or Duchesses — nor set any great store on mere intellectual successes. " Perhaps,!' thought she, " he has tried and found the hollowness of them, all — perhaps he is weary of public life — perhaps he'd like the quiet plea- sures of a country house, and that calm existence described as the chateau life of England. Would that he were only more frank with me, and let us know each other better !" "We entreat our readers to forgive us this digression, necessary as it is to show that Lizzy, whatever her real doubts and anxietiesi felt bound not to display them, but accept Beecher'B counsel as her father's will. " A^|so we start for Aix-la-Chapelle by two ?" said she, calmly. "Yes; and I represent Papa," said Beecher. "I hope you feel impressed with a due reverence for my authority." " Much will depend upon the way you exercise it," said she ; " I could very easily be a rebel if I suspected the justice of the Crown." " Come, come," said he, laughing, " don't threaten me ; my vice- royship will be very short-lived — he'll perhaps be at Aix before us." " And I suppose all my dreams of extravagance here are defeated," said she. " Annette and I have been plotting and planning such rare devices in ' toilette,' not exactly aware where or upon whom the cap- tivations were to be exercised. I actually revelled in the thought of all the smart fineries my Pensionnat life has denied me hitherto." There was that blending of levity with seriousness in her tone that totally puzzled Beecher ; and so was it through all- she said, there ran the same half-mocking vein that left him quite unable even to fa$om her meaning. He muttered out something about " dress" and " smart things" being to be found everywhere, and that most probably they should visit even more pretentious cities than Brussels ere long. " Which means that you know perfectly well where we are going, DAYENPOET DTTOT. 259 but won't tell it. Well, I resign myself to my interesting j|pt of ' Captive Princess' all the more submissively, since every place is new to me, every town an object of interest, every village a surprise." " Tou'd like to see the world — the real, the great world, I mean ?" asked Beecher. " Oh, how much I" cried she, clasping her hands in eagerness, as she arose. Beecher watched her as she walked up and down the room, every movement of her graceful figure displaying dignity and pride, her small and beautifully shaped head slightly thrown back, while, as her hand held the folds of her dress, her march had something almost stage-like in its sweeping haughtiness. " And how she iaU become it!" muttered he, below his breath, but yet leaving tiS^Rirmured sounds half audible. " What are you saying, Sir ? Any disparaging sentiment on school-girl conceit or curiosity ?" " Something very like the opposite," said Beecher. " I was whis- pering to myself that Grantley House and Rocksley Castle were the proper sphere for you" " Are these very splendid ?" asked she, calmly. " The best houses in England. Of their owners, one is a Duke, with two hundred thousand a year, the other, an Earl, with nearly as much." 0-^ " And what do they do with it ?" W " Everything ; all that money can have — and what is there it can- not ? — is there. Gorgeous houses, horses, dress, dinners, pictures, plate, the best people to visit them, the best cook, the best deer-park, the fastest yacht at Cowes, the best hunting-stable at Melton." " I should like that ; it sounds very fascinating, all of it. How it submerges at once, too, all the petty cares and contrivances, perpe- tually asking, ' Can we do this f ' ' Dare we do that ?' It makes ex- istence the grand, bold, free thing one dreams it ought to be." " You're right, there ; it does make life very jolly." " Are you very rich ?" asked she, abruptly. " No, by Jove ! poor as a church mouse," said he, laughing at the strangeness of the question, whose sincere simplicity excluded all notion of impertinence. "I'm what they call a younger son, which means one who arrives in the world when the feast is over. I have a brother with a very tidy fortune, if that were of any use to me." " And is it not the same ? Tou share your goqds together, I suppose ?" 82 260 DAYENPOBT DUUN. " I jshould be charmed to share mine -with him, on terms of reci- procity," said Beecher ; " but I'm afraid he'd not like it." " So that he is rich, and you poor ?" "Exactly so." " And this is called brotherhood ? I own I don't understand it." "Well, it has often puzzled me, too," said Beecher, laughingly ; " but I believe, if I had been born first, I should have had no difficulty in it whatever." "And Papa?" asked she, suddenly — "what was he — an elder or a younger son P" It was all that Beecher could do to maintain a decent gravity at this question. To be asked about Grog Davis's parentage seemed about the drollest of all possible subjects of inquiry, but, with an immense effort of self-restraint, he said, " I never exactly knew ; I rather suspect, however, he was an only child." " Then there is no title in our family ?" said she, inquiringly. " I believe not ; but you are aware that this is very largely the case in England. We are not all ' Marquises,' and ' Counts,' and ' Che- valiers,' like foreigners." " I like a title ; I like its distinctiveness : the sense of carrying out a destiny, transmitting certain traits of race and kindred, seems a fine and ennobling thing ; and this one has not, one cannot have, who has no past. So that," said she, after a pause, " Papa is only what you would call a ' gentleman.' " , " Gentleman is a very proud designation, believe me," said he, evading an answer. " And how would they address me in England — am I ' my Lady ?' " " No, you are Miss Davis." " How meanly it sounds — it might be a governess — a maid." " When you are married, you take the rank and title of your hus- band — a Duchess, if he be a Duke." "A Duchess be it, then," said she, in that light, volatile tone she was ever best pleased to employ, while, with a rattling gaiety, she went on : " How I should love to be one of those great people you have described to me — soaring away in all that ideal splendour which would come of a life of boundless cost, the actual and the present being only suggestive of a thousand fancied enjoyments ! What glo- rious visions might one conjure up out of the sportiveness of an un- trammelled will ! Yes, Mr. Beecher, I have made up my mind— I'll be a Duchess !" " But you might have all these as a Marchioness, a Countess——" BATENPOET TiVTSS. 261 " No, I'll be a Duchess ; you shan't cheat me out of my just claims." " Will your Grace please to give orders about packing up, for we must be away soon after one o'clock," said he, laughing. " If I were not humility itself, I'd say, the train should await my convenience," said she, as she left the room with a proud and graceful dignity that would have become a queen. Por a few moments Beecher sat silent and thoughtful in his chair, and then burst out into a fit of immoderate laughing — he laughed till his eyes ran over and his sides ached. " If this ain't going the pace, I'd like to know what speed is !" cried he, aloud. " I wonder what old Grog would say if he heard her ; and the best of the joke is, she is serious all the while. She is in the most perfect good faith about it all. And this comes of the absurdity of educating her out of her class. What a strange blunder for so clever a head to make ! Tou might have guessed, Master Grog, that she never could be a ' Plater.' Let her only enter for a grand match, and she'll be ' scratched' from one end of England to the other. Ay, Davis, my boy, you fancy pedigrees are only cared for on the turf; but there is a Pacing Calendar, edited by a certain Debrett, that you never heard of." Again he thought of Davis as a Peer — " Viscount Davis ;" Baron Grog, as he muttered it, came across him, and he burst out once more into laughter ; then, suddenly checking himself, he said, " I must take right good care, though, that he never hears of this same conversation ; he's just the fellow to say / led her on to. laugh at and ridicule him ; he'd suspect in a moment that I took her that pleasant gallop and if he did " A long, wailing whistle finished the sentence for him. Other and not very agreeable reflections succeeded these. It was this very morning that he himself had determined on "levanting," and there he was, more securely moored than ever. He looked at his watch, and muttered, " Eleven o'clock : by this time I should have been at Venders, and on the Phine before midnight. In four days more, I'd have had the Alps between us, and now here I am without the chance of escape ; for if I bolted and left his daughter here he'd follow me through the world to shoot me!" He sat silent for some minutes, and then, suddenly springing up from his chair, he cried out,. " Precious hard luck it is ! but I can neither get on with this fellow nor without him;" and with this " summing up," he went off to his room to finish his preparations for the road. 262 datenpobt dthtct. CHAPTEE XXXH. THE COUPE ON THE RAIL. Astnesiey Beeches felt it "deuced odd" to be the travelling companion and protector of a very beautiful girl of nineteen, to whoBe fresh youth every common object of the road was a thing of wonderment and curiosity : the country — the people — the scores of passengers arriving or departing — the chance incidents of the way — all amused her. She possessed that power of deriving intense enjoy- ment from the mere aspect of life that characterises certain minds, and while thus each little incident interested her, her gay and lively sallies animated one who without her companionship had smoked Ms cigar in half-sulky isolation, voting journey and fellow-travellers " most monstrous bores." As they traversed that picturesque tract between Chaude Fontaine and Verviers her delight and enjoyment increased. Those wonderful little landscapes which open at the exit from each tunnel, and where to the darkness and gloom succeed, as if by magic, those rapid glances at swelling lawns, deep-bosomed woods, and winding rivers, with peaceful homesteads dotting the banks, were so many surprises full of marvellous beauty. " Ah ! Mr. Beecher," said she, as they emerged upon one of these charming spots, " I'm half relenting about my decision in regard to greatness. I think that in those lovely valleys yonder, where the tall willows are hanging over the river, there might possibly be an existence I should like better than the life of even a Duchess." " It's a much easier ambition to gratify," said he, smiling. " It was not of tJmt I was thinking," said she, haughtily ; " nor am I so certain you are right there. I take it people can generally be that they have set their heart on being." " I should like to be convinced of your theory," cried he, "for I have been I can't say how many years wishing for fifty things I have never succeeded in attaining." " "What else have you done besides wishing ?" asked she, abruptly. " "Well, that is a hard question," said he, in some confusion ; " and after all, I don't see what remained to me to do but wish." " If that were all, it is pretty clear you had no right to succeed. When I said that people can have what they set their heart on, I meant what they so longed for that no toil was too great, no sacrifice too DAVENPOET DUNN. 263 painful to deter them ; that with eyes upturned to the summit they could breast the mountain, not minding weariness, and even when, footsore and exhausted, they sank down, they arose to the same en- terprise unshaken in courage, unbroken in faith. Have you known thiB?" " I can scarcely say I have ; but as to the longing and pining after a good turn of fortune I'll back myself against any one going." " That's the old story of the child crying for the moon," said she, laughing. " Now, what was it you longed for so ardently ?" " Can't you guess ?" " Tou wanted to marry some one who would not have you, or who was beneath you, or too poor, or too something-or-other for your grand relations ?" " No, not that." " Tou aspired to some great distinction as a politician, or a soldier, or perhaps as a sailor ?" " No, by Jove ! never dreamed of it," burst he in, laughing at the very idea. " You sighed for some advancement in rank, or perhaps it was great wealth ?" " There you have it ! Plenty of money — lots of ready — with that all the rest comes easy." " It must be very delightful, no doubt, t& indulge every passing caprice, without ever counting the cost ; but, after a while, what a spoilt-child weariness would come over one from all this cloying en- joyment — how tiresome would it be to shorten the journey between will and accomplishment, and make of life a mere succession of ' tableaux.' I'd rather strive, and struggle, and win." " Ay, but one doesn't always win," broke he in. " I believe one does — if one deserves it ; and even when one does not, the battle is a fine thing. How much sympathy, I ask you, have we for those classic heroes who are always helped out of their diffi- culties by some friendly deity ? What do we feel for him who, in the thick of the fight, is sure to be rescued by a goddess in a cloud ?" " I confess I do like a good ' book,' ' hedged' well all round, and standing to win somewhere. I mean," added he, in an explanatory tone, " I like to be safe in this world." " Stand on the bank of the stream, then, and let bolder hearts push across the river !" " "Well, but I'm rather out of patience," said he, in a tone of half irritation. " I've had many a venture in life, and too many of them unfortunate ones." 264 DAVENPOET DUNN. " How I do wonder," said she, after a pause, " that you and Papa are such great friends, for I have rarely heard of two people who take such widely different notions of life.- You seem to me all caution and reserve — lie, all daring and energy." " That's the reason, perhaps, we suit each other so well," said Beecher, laughing. " It may be so," said she, thoughtfully; and now there was silence between them. " Have you got sisters, Mr. Beecher ?" said she, at length. " No ; except I may call my brother's wife one." ' " Tell me of her. Is she young — is she handsome ?" " She is not young, but she is still a very handsome woman." "Dark or fair?" " Very dark, almost Spanish in complexion — a great deal of haugh- tiness in her look, but great courtesy when she pleases." " Would she like me ?" " Of course she would," said he, with a smile and a bow; but a flush covered his face at the bare thought of their meeting. " I'm not so certain you are telling the truth there," said she, laugh- ing ; " and yet you know there can be no offence in telling me I should hot suit some one I have never seen ; do, then, be frank with me, and say what would she think of me." " To begin," said he, laughing, " she'd say you were very beau- tiful " " ' Exquisitely beautiful,' was the phrase of that old gentleman that got into the next carriage ; and I like it better." " "Well, exquisitely beautiful — the perfection of gracefulness — and highly accomplished." " She'd not say any such thing ; she'd not describe me like a go- verness ; she'd probably say I was too demonstrative — that's a phrase in vogue just now — and hint that I was a little vulgar. But I assure you," added she, seriously, " I'm not so when I speak French. It is a stupid attempt on my part to catch up what I imagine must be English frankness when I talk the language that betrays me into all these outspoken extravagances. Let us talk Erench now." " Tou'll have the conversation very nearly to yourself, then," said Beecher, " for I'm a most indifferent linguist." " Well, then, I must ask you to take my word for it, and believe that I'm well bred when I can afford it. But your sister — do tell me of her." " She is ' tres grande dame,' as you would call it," said Beecher; DAVENFOBT DUNN. 265 " very quiet, very cold, extremely simple in language, dresses splen- didly, and never knows wrong people." " Who are wrong people ?" "I don't exactly know how to define them ; but they are such as are to be met with in society, not by claim of birth and standing, but. because they are very rich, or very clever, in some way or other- people, in fact, that one has to ask who they are." " I understand. But that must apply to a pretty wide circle of this world's habitants." " So it does. A great part of Europe, and all America," said Beecher, laughing. " And Papa and myself, how should we come through this formi- dable inquiry ?" " "Well," said he, hesitating, " your father has always lived so much out of the world — this kind of world, I mean — so studiously retired, that the chances are that, in short " " In short — they'd ask, ' Who are these Davises ?' " She threw into her face, as she spoke, such an admirable mimicry of proud pre- tension that Beecher laughed immoderately at it. " And when they'd ask it," continued she, " I'd be very grateful to you to tell me what to reply to them, since I own to you it is a most puzzling question to myself." " Well," said Beecher, in some embarrassment, " it is strange enough ; but though your father and I are very old friends — as inti- mate as men can possibly be — yet he has never spoken to me about his family or connexions — nay, so far has he'carried his reserve, that, until yesterday, I was not aware he had a daughter." , " You don't mean to say he never spoke of me ?" " Never to me, at least ; and, as I have told you, I believe no one possesses a larger share of his confidence than myself." " That was strange," said she, in deep reflection. Then, after a few minutes, she resumed : " If I had a story of my life I'd tell it to you ; but there is really none, or next to none. As a child, I was at school in Cornwall. Later on, Papa came and fetched me away to a' small cottage near Walmer, where I lived with a sort of governess, who treated me with great deference — in short, observed towards me so much respect that I grew to believe I was something very exalted and distinguished — a sort of ' Man in the Iron Mask,' whose pre- tensions had only to be known to convulse half Europe. Thence I passed over to the Pensionnat at the Three Fountains, where I found, if not the same homage, all the indications of my being regarded as a privileged individual. I had my maid ; I enjoyed innumerable little 266 DAYENPOBT DTTNN. indulgences none others possessed. I'm, not sure whether the pony I rode at the riding-school was my own or not ; I only know that none mounted him but myself. In fact, I was treated like one apart, and all Papa's letters only reiterated the same order — I was to want for nothing. Of course, these teachings could impress but one lesson — that I was a person of high rank and great fortune ; and of this I never entertained a doubt. Now," added she, with more energy, " so far as I understand its uses, I do like wealth, and so far as I can fancy its privileges, I love rank ; but if the tidings came suddenly upon me that I had neither one nor the other, I feel a sort of self- confidence that tells me I should not be dispirited or discouraged." Beecher gazed at her with such admiration that a deep blush rose to her face, as she said, " Tou may put this heroism of mine to the test at once, by telling me frankly what you know about my station. Am I a Princess in disguise, Mr. Beecher, or am I only an item in the terrible category of what you have just called ' wrong people ?' " If the dread and terror of Grog Davis had been removed from Anaesley Beecher's mind, there is no saying to what excesses of con- fidence the impulse of the moment might have carried him. He was capable of telling her any and every thing. , Por a few seconds, in- deed, the thought of being her trusted friend so overcame his pru- dence, that he actually took her hand between his own, as the prelude to the revelations he was about to open, when suddenly, a vision of Davis swept before his mind — Davis, in one of his moods of wrath, paroxysms of passion as they were, wherein he stopped at nothing. "He'd send me to the dock as a felon — he'd shoot me down like a dog," muttered he to himself, as, dropping her hand, he leaned back in the carriage. She bent over, and looked calmly into his face. Her own was now perfectly pale and colourless, and then, with a faint, sad smile, she said, " I see that you'd like to gratify me. It is through some sense of delicacy and reserve that you hesitate. Be it so. Let us be good friends now, and perhaps, in time, we may trust each other tho- roughly." Beecher took her hand once more, and bending down, kissed it fervently. "What a strange thrill was that that ran through his heart, and what an odd sense of desolation was it as he relinquished that fair, soft hand, as though it were that by its grasp he held on to life and hope together ! " Oh," muttered he to himself, " why was not she — why was not he himself — twenty things that neither of them were ?" DAVENPOET DUNK. 267 " I wish I could read your thoughts," said she, smiling gently at him. " I wish to Heaven you could !" cried he, with an honest energy that his nature had not known for many a day. For the remainder of' the way neither spoke, beyond some chance remark upon the country or the people. It was as though the bridge between them was yet too frail to cross, and that they trusted to time to establish that interchange of thought and confidence which each longed for. " Here we are at the end of our journey !" said he, with a sigh, as they entered Aix. " And the beginning of our friendship," said she, with a smile, while she held out her hand to pledge the contract. So intently was Beecher gazing at her face that he did not notice the action. " "Won't you have it ?" asked she, laughing. " "Which," cried he — " the hand, or the friendship ?" "I meant the friendship," said she, quietly. " Tickets, Sir !" said the guard, entering. " We are at the station." Annesley Beecher was soon immersed in all those bustling cares which attend the close of a journey ; and though Lizzy seemed to enjoy the confusion and turmoil that prevailed, he was far from happy amidst the anxieties about baggage and horse-boxes, the maid and the groom each tormenting him in the interests of their several depart- ments. All was, however, safe — not a cap-case was missing — Klepper "never lost a hair" — and they drove off to the Hotel of the Pour Nations, in high spirits all. CHAPTEE XXXIII. THE "FOUR NATIONS" AT AIX. Ail the bustle of " settling down" in the hotel over, Annesley Beecher began to reflect a little upon the singularity of his situation. The wondering admiration which had followed Lizzy Davis wherever she appeared on the journey seemed to have reached its climax now, and little knots and groups of lounging travellers were to be seen before the windows curious to catch a glance at this surpassing beauty. Now, had she been his lon&fide property, he was just the man to derive the most intense enjoyment from this homage at 268 DAVENPOBT DTJNtf. second hand — he'd have exulted and triumphed in it. His position was, however, a very different one, and as merely her companion, ■while it exposed her to very depreciating judgments, it also neces- sitated on his part a degree of haughty defiance and championship for which he had not the slightest fancy whatever. Annesley Beecher dragged into a row for Grog Davis's daughter — Beecher fighting some confounded Count or other about Lizzy Davis — Annesley shot by some Zouave Captain who insisted on waltzing with his "friend" — these were pleasant mind-pictures which he contemplated with the very reverse of enjoyment ; and yet the ques- tion of her father's station away, he felt it was a cause wherein even one who had no more love for, the " duello" than himself might well have perilled life. All her loveliness and grace had not been wasted when they could kindle up a little gleam of chivalry in the embers of that wasted heart ! He ran over in his mind all the Lady Julias and Georginas of the fashionable world. He bethought him of each of those who had been the queens of London seasons ; and yet how vastly were they all her inferiors. It was not alone that in beauty she eclipsed them, but she possessed besides the thousand nameless attractions of manner and gesture, a certain blended dignity and youthful gaiety, that made her seem the very ideal of high-born loveliness. He had seen Dukes' daughters who could not vie with her in these gifts ; he had known Countesses immeasurably beneath her. From these thoughts he went on to others as to her future, and the kind of fellow that might marry her ; for, strangely enough, in all his homage there mingled the ever-present memory of Grog and his pursuits. Mountjoy Stubbs might marry her — he has fifty thousand a year, and his father was a pawnbroker. Lockwood Harris might marry her — he got all his money from the slave-trade. There were three or four more — all wealthy, and all equivocal in position : men to be seen in clubs — to be dined with and played with — fellows who had yachts at Cowes and grouse-lodges in Scotland, and yet in London were " nowhere." These men could within their own sphere do all they pleased — they could afford any extravagance they fancied — and what a delightful extravagance it would be to marry Lizzy Davis. Often as he had envied these men, he never did so more than now. They had no responsibilities of station ever hanging over them — no brothers in the Peerage to bully them about this — no sisters in waiting to worry them about that. They could always, as he phrased it, " paint then- coach their own colour," without any fear of the Heralds' Office; and what better existence could a man wish for than a prolific fancy DAVENPORT DUNN. 269 and unlimited funds to indulge it. " If I were Stubbs I'd marry her." This he said fully a dozen times over, and even confirmed it with an oath. And what an amiable race of people are the Stubbses of this habitable globe — how loosely do responsibilities sit upon them — how generously are they permitted every measure of extravagance and every violation of good taste ! "What a painful contrast did his mind draw between Stubbs's condition and his own! There was a time, too, when the State repaired in some sort the injustice that younger sons groaned under — the public service was full of the Lord Charleses and the Honourables, who looked up to a paternal Government for their support ; but now there was actually a run against them. Beecher argued himself so warmly into this belief, that he said aloud, " If I asked for something to-morrow they'd refuse me, just because I've a brother a Peer !" The reader is already aware what a compensation he found for all his defeats and short-comings in life by arraigning the injustice of the world. Downing-street — the Turf — Lackington — Tattersall's — the Horse Guards — and the " little hell in St. James's-street" were all in a league to crush him ; but he'd show them " a turn round the corner yet," he said ; and with a saucy laugh of derision at all the malevolence of fortune, he set about dressing for dinner. Beecher was not only a very good-looking fellow, but he had that stamp of man of fashion on him which all the contamination of low habits and low associates had not effaced. His address was easy and unaffected; his voice pleasantly toned ; his smile sufficiently ready ; and his whole manner was an agreeable blending of deference with a sort of not ungraceful self-esteem. Negatives best describe the class of men he belonged to, and any real excellence he possessed was in not being a great number of things which form, unhappily, the social defects of a large section of humanity. He was never loud, never witty, never ora- cular, never anecdotic; and although the slang of the "Turf" and its followers clung to him, he threw out its " dialectics" so laughinglv that he even seemed to be himself ridiculing the quaint phraseology he employed. We cannot venture to affirm that our readers might have liked his company, but we are safe in asserting that Lizzy Davis did so. He possessed that very experience of life— London life— that amused her greatly. She caught up with an instinctive quickness the meaning of those secret springs which move society, and where, though genius and wealth are suffered to exercise their influence, the real power is alone centred in those who are great by station and hereditary claims. She saw that the great Brahmins of fashion maintained a 270 DAYENPOBT DTON. certain exclusiveness which no pretensions ever breached, and that to this consciousness of an unassailable position was greatly owing all the dignified repose and serenity of their manner. She made him recount to her the style of living in the country houses of England — the crowds of visitors that came and went — the field sports — the home resources that filled up the day — while intrigues of politics or fashion went silently on beneath the surface. She recognised that in this apparently easy and indolent existence a great game was ever being played, and that all the workings of ambition, all the passions of love, and hate, and fear, and jealousy were " on the board." They had dined sumptuously. The equivocal position in which they appeared, far from detracting from the deference of the hotel people, served but to increase their homage. Experience had shown that such persons as they were supposed to be spent most and paid best, and so they were served on the most splendid plate ; waiters in full dress attended them ; even to the bouquet of hothouse flowers left on " Mademoiselle's" napkin, all were little evidences of that consideration of which Annesley Beecher well knew the meaning. " Will you please to enlighten my ignorance on one point, Mr. Beecher ?" said she, as they sat over their coffee. " Is it customary in this rigid England, of which you have told me so many things, for a young unmarried lady to travel alone with a gentleman who is not even a relative ?" " "When her father so orders it, I don't see there can be much wrong in it," said he, with some hesitation. " That is not exactly an answer to my question ; although I may gather from it that the proceeding is at least unusual." "I won't say it's quite customary," said Beecher; "but taking into account that I am a very old and intimate friend of your father's " " There musfc^ then, have been some very pressing emergency to make Papa adopt such a course," interrupted she. " Why so ?" asked he. " Is the arrangement so very distasteful to you ?" " Perhaps not — perhaps I like it very well. Perhaps I find you very agreeable— ^very amusing — very what shall I say ?" "Eespectfut." " If you like that epithet, I have no objection to put it in your character. Yet still do I come back to the thought that Papa could scarcely have struck out this plan without some grave necessity. Now, I should like much to know what that is, or was." Beecher DAVETTPOBT DTTfTN. 271 made no sign of reply, and she quickly asked, " Do you know his reasons ?' ! "Yes," said he, gravely; "but I prefer that you should not ques- tion me about them." "I can't help that, Mr. Beecher," said she, in that half-careless tone she sometimes used. " Just listen to me for one moment," said she, earnestly, and fixing her eyes fully on him — " just hear me at- tentively. Prom what I have gathered from your account of England and its habits, I am certainly now doing that which, to say the least, is most unusual and unwarrantable. Now, either there is a reason so grave for this that it makes a choice of evils imperative — and, therefore, I ought to have my choice — or there is another even worse interpretation — at least, a more painful one— to come." " Which is ?" cried he. " That I am not of that station to which such propriety attaches of necessity." She uttered these words with a cold sternness and determination that actually made Beecher tremble. " It was Davis's daughter spoke there," thought he. " They^are the words of one who declares that, no matter what be the odds against her, she is ready to meet the whole world in arms. "What a girl it is !" muttered he, with a sense of mingled fear and admiration. " Well, Mr. Beecher," said she, at length, " I do think you owe me a little frankness ; short as our acquaintance has been, I, at least, have talked in all the freedom of old friendship. Pray show me that I have not been indiscreet." "Hang me, if I know what to say or do!" cried Beecher, in dire perplexity. " If I were to tell you why your father hurried away from Brussels, he'd bring me to book very soon, I promise you." " I do not ask that," interrupted she, eagerly. " It is upon the other point my interest is most engaged." He looked blankly at her, for he really did not catch to what she alluded. " I want you to tell me, in one word, who are the Davises ? Who are we ? — what are we ? If we are not recognisable by that high world you have told me of, who, then, are our equals ? Eemember, that by an honest answer to my question, you give guidance and direction to my future life. Do not shrink from any fear of giving me pain — there is no such pain as uncertainty ; so be frank." Beecher covered his face with his hands to think over his reply. He did not dare to look at her, so fearful was he of her reading his very embarrassment. 272 DAVENPOET DUNN. " I will spare you, Sir," said she, smiling half superciliously ; " but if you had known me a little longer, or a little better, you had seen how needless all this excessive caution on your part. I have more of what you call ' pluck' than you give me credit for." " No, by Jove ! that you haven't," cried Beecher ; " you have more real courage than all the men I ever knew." " Show me, then, that you are not deficient in the quality, and give me a plain answer to a plain question. "Who are we ?" " I've just told you," said Beecher, whose confusion now made him stammer and stutter at every word — " I have just told you that your father never spoke to me about his relations. I really don't know his county, nor anything about his family." " Then it only remains to ask, What are we ? or, in easier words, Has my father any calling or profession ? Come, Sir, so much you can certainly tell me." " Tour father was a Captain in a "West India regiment, and, when I met him first, he was a man about town — went to all the races — made his bets — won and lost, like the rest of us — always popular — knew everybody." " A ' sporting character,' in short — isn't that the name newspapers give it ?" said she, with a malicious twinkle of the eye. " By Jove ! how you hit a thing off at once !" exclaimed Beecher, in honest ecstasy at her shrewdness. " So, then, I am at the end of the riddle at last," said she, musingly, as she arose and walked the room in deep meditation. " Far better to have told me so many a year ago — far better to have let me con- form to this station when I might have done so easily, and without a pang !" A bitter sigh escaped her at the last word, and Beecher arose and joined her. " I hope you are not displeased with me, my dear Miss Davis," said he, with a trembling voice ; " I don't know what I'd not rather suffer than offend you." " Tou have not offended me," said she, coldly. " "Well, I mean, than I'd pain you — than I'd say anything that should distress you. Tou know, after all, it wasn't quite fair to push me so hard." " Are you forgetting, Sir," broke she in, haughtily, "that you have really told me next to nothing, and that I am left to gather from mere insinuations that there is something in our condition your delicacy shrinks from explaining ?" " Not a bit of it," chimed he in, quickly. " The best men in Bng- DATENPOET DTTNK. 273 land are on the Turf, and a good book on the Oaks isn't within reach of the income-tax. Tour father's dealings are with all the ' Swells' in the Peerage." " So there is a partnership in the business, Sir," said she, with a quiet irony ; " and is the Honourable Mr. Beecher one of the com- pany ?" " Well — ha — I suppose — I ought to say yes," muttered he, in deep confusion. " "We do a stroke of work together now and then — on the square, of course, I mean." " Pray don't expose the secrets of the firm, Sir. I am even more interested than yourself that they should be conducted with discre- tion. There is only one other question I have to ask, and as it purely concerns myself, you'll not refuse me a reply. Knowing our station in life, as I now see you know it, by what presumption did you dare to trifle with mj girlish ignorance, and lead me to fancy that I might yet move in a sphere which in your heart you knew I was excluded from?" Overwhelmed with shame and confusion, and stunned by the em- barrassment of a dull man in a difliculty, Beecher. stood unable to utter a word. " To say the least, Sir, there was levity in this," said she, in a tone of sorrowful meaning ; " but, perhaps, you never meant it so." " Never, upon my oath, never!" cried he, eagerly. "Whatever I said, I uttered in all frankness and sincerity. I know London town just as well as any man living, and I'll stand five hundred to fifty there's not your equal in it— and that's giving the whole field against the odds. All I say is, you shall go to the Queen's Drawing- room " " I am not likely to do so, Sir," said she, with a haughty gesture, and left the room. 274 DATENPOET DUNN. CHAPTEE XXXIV. AIX-LA-CHiPEXLE. Thbee days passed over — three days varied with all the incidents that go to make up a longer existence — and Beecher and his fair charge were still at Aix. If they forbore to speak to each other of the strange situation in which they found themselves, they were not the less full of it. Neither telegraph nor letter came from Davis, and Beecher's anxiety grew hourly greater. There was scarcely an eventuality his mind had not pictured. Davis was arrested and car- ried off to prison in Brussels — was waylaid and murdered in the Ardennes — was ill, dying in some unheard-of village — involved in some other row, and obliged to keep secret — arrested on some old charge ; in fact, every mishap that a fertile fancy could devise had befallen him, and now only remained the question, what was he himself to do with Lizzy Davis ? Whether it was that her present life was an agreeable change from the discipline of the Three Fountains, or that the new objects of inte- rest about her engaged her to the exclusion of much thought, or that some higher philosophy of resignation supported her, but certain is it she neither complained of the delav nor exhibited any considerable impatience at her father's silence. She went about sight-seeing, visited churches and galleries, strolled on the Promenade before dinner, and finished with the theatre at night, frankly owning it was a kind of do-nothing existence that she enjoyed greatly. Her extraordinary beauty was already a town talk ; and the passages of the hotel were crowded as she went down to her carriage, and to her box at the Opera were directed almost every glass in the house. This, however, is a homage not always respectful, and in the daring looks of the men, and the less equivocal glances of the women, Beecher read the judg- ment that had been pronounced upon her. Her manner, too, in public, had a certain fearless gaiety about it that was sure to be severely commented on, while the splendour of her dress was certain to be not less mercifully interpreted. To have the charge of a casket of jewels through the thieves' quar- ter of London was the constant similitude that rose to Beecher's DAVENPOBT DOTN. 275 \ mind as lie descended the stairs at her side. To be obliged to dis- play her to the wondering gaze of some hundred idlers, the dissi- pated and debauched loungers of a watering-place, men of bad lives and worse tongues ; to mark the staring insolence of some, and the quizzical impertinence of others ; to see how narrowly each day they escaped some more overt outrage from that officious politeness that is tendered to those in equivocal positions, were tortures that half mad- dened him. Nor could he warn her of the peril they stood in, or dare to remonstrate about many little girlish ways which savoured of levity. The scene of the theatre in Brussels was never off his mind, and the same one idea continually haunted him, that poor Hamilton's fate might be his own. The characterless men of the world are always cowards as to responsibility — they feel that there is a flaw in their natures that must smash them if pressed upon ; and so was it here. Beecher's life was actual misery, and eaeh morning he awoke the day seemed full of menace and misfortune to him. In his heart, he knew that if an emergency arose he should be found wanting ; he'd either not think of the right thing, or have pluck for it if he even thought it ; and then, whatever trouble or mishap he came through, there still remained worse behind — the settlement with Grog himself at the end. Like most persons who seek the small consolation of falling back on their own foresight, he called to mind how often he had said to himself that nothing but ill could come of journeying with Grog Davis — he knew it — he was sure of it. A fellow to conspire with about a " plant" — a man to concert with on a race, or a " safe thing with the cards," was not exactly a meet travelling companion, and he fretted over the fatal weakness that had induced his acceptance of him. They had only just started, and their troubles had already begun ! Even if Davis himself were there, matters might not be so bad. Grog was always ready to " turn out" and have a shot with any one. It was a sort of pastime he rather liked when nothing else was stirring, it seemed like keeping his hand in; but, confound the fellow ! he had gone off, and left in his place one who had a horror of hair-triggers, and shuddered at the very thought of a shot-wound. He was far too conversant with the habits of demi-monde ex- istence not to see that the plot was thickening, and fresh dangers clustering round him. The glances in the street were hourly growing more familiar— the looks were half recognitions. Half a dozen times in the morning, well-dressed and well-bearded strangers had bolted into their sitting-room in mistake, and, while apologising for their blunder, delayed unnecessarily long over the explanation. t2 276 BA.VENPOBT DUNS. The waiter significantly mentioned that Prince Bottoffsky was then stopping at the hotel, with seven carriages and eighteen servants. The same intelligent domestic wondered they never went to see Count Czaptowitch's camelias — " he had sent a bouquet of them that very day to her Ladyship." And Beecher groaned in his spirit as the fellow produced it. " I see how it's all to end," muttered he, as he paced the room unable any longer to conceal the misery that was consuming him. " One of those confounded foreigners will come swaggering up to talk to her on the Promenade, and then I'm ' in for it.' It's all Davis's fault. It's all her fault. Why can't she look like other people — dress like them — walk like them ? What stuff and nonsense it is for her to be going about the world like a Princess Boyal. It was only last night she wore a Brussels lace shawl at the Opera that cost five thousand francs, and when it caught on a nail in the box and was torn, she laughed, and said, ' Annette will be charmed with this disaster, for she was always coveting this lace, and wonder- ing when she was to have it.' That's the fine ' bringing-up' old Grog is so proud of ! If she were a Countess in her own right, with ten thousand a year, she'd be a bad bargain!" Ah, Beecher ! your heart never went with you when you made this cruel speech ; you uttered it in spleen and bitterness, but not in sin- cerity ; for already in that small compartment of your nature where a few honest affections yet lingered she was treasured, and, had yon known how to do ifc, you would have loved her. Poor devil as he was, Life was a hard battle to him ; always over head and ears in debt ; protested bills meeting him at every moment ; duns rising before him at every turn. Levity was to him, as to many, a mere mask over Fear, and he walked the world in the hourly terror that any moment might bring him to shame and ruin. If he were a few minutes alone, his melancholy was almost despair, and over and over had he pictured to his mind a scene in the police-court, where he was called on to find full and, sufficient bail for his appearance on trial. Prom such sorrowing thoughts he made his escape to rush into society — anywhere, anyhow — and, by the revulsion of his mind, came that rattling and boisterous gaiety that made him seem the most light-hearted fellow in existence. Such men are always making bon- fires of their household Gods, and have nothing to greet them when they are at home. What a fascination must Lizzy Davis have exercised over such a mind ! Her beauty and her gracefulness would not have been enough without her splendid dressing, and that indescribable elegance of DAVENPOBT DTJIW. 277 manner -which was native to her. Then how she amused him ! — what droll caricatures did she sketch of the queer originals of the place — the bearded old Colonels, or the pretentious loungers that frequented the " Cursaal !" How witty the little epigrams by which she accompa- nied them, and how charmingly at a moment would she sit down at the piano and sing for him anything, from a difficult " scena" from Verdi to some floating barcarole of Venice ! She could — let us tell it in one word — make him laugh ; and oh, dearly valued reader ! what would you or I give for the company of any one who could do as much ? The world is full of learned people, and clever people. There are Bourse men, and pre-Eaphaelite men, and Old-red-sandstone men, and Greek particle men, but where are the pleasant people one used to chat with long ago, who, though talking of mere common-places, threw out little sparks of fun— fire-flies in the dark copses — giving to what they said that smack of epigram that spiced talk but never over- seasoned it, whose genial sympathy sent a warm life-blood through every theme, and whose outspoken heartiness refreshed one after a cold bath of polite conventionalities. If they still exist upon this earth, they must be hiding themselves, wisely seeing it is not an age to suit them ; they lie quiet under the ice, patiently hibernating till another summer may call them forth to vitality. Now Lizzy Davis could make Beecher laugh in his lowest and gravest moments ; droll situations and comical conceits came in showers over her mind, and she gave them forth with all the tact of a consummate actress. Her mimicry, too, was admirable, and thus he who rarely reflected, and never read, found in her ready talents resources against all weariness and ennui. What a girl she was ! — how per- fectly she would become any — the very highest — station ! what na- tural dignity in her manner ! — and Then, after a pause, he mur- mured, " "What a fortune she'd make on the stage ! "Why, there's nothing to compare with her — she's as much beyond them all in beauty as in genius !" And so he sat about thinking how, by marrying her, a man might make a " deuced good thing of it." There's no saying what "Webster wouldn't offer ; and then there was America, always a " safe card ;" not that it would do for himself to think of such a thing. Lackington would never speak to him again. All his family would cut him dead ; he hadn't an acquaintance would recog- nise him after such disgrace. " Old Grog is so confoundedly well known!" muttered he — "the scoundrel is so notorious !" Still, there were fellows wouldn't mind that — hard-up men, who had done everything, and found all failure. He knew " Let us see," said he to himself, beginning to count on 278 DAVENPOET DTOBT. his fingers all the possible candidates for her hand. "There's Cran- shaw Craven at Caen, on two hundred a year ; fe'd marry her, and never ask to see her if she'd settle twenty thousand francs a year on him. Brownlow G-ore would marry her, and for a mere five hundred too, for he wants to try that new martingale at Ems ; he's certain he'd break the bank with less. Foley would marry her; but, to be sure, he has a wife somewhere, and she might object to that ! I'd lay an even fifty," cried he, in ecstasy at the bright thought, " Tom Beresford would marry her, just to get out of the Fleet !" "What does that wonderful calculation mean?" cried she, sud- denly, as she saw him still reckoning on his fingers. " "What deep process of reasoning is my learned guardian engaged in ?" " I'd give you a long time to guess," said he, laughing. " Am I personally concerned in it ?" asked she. " Tes, that yon are !" ""Well," said she, after a pause, "you are counting over the days we have passed, or are still to pass here ?" "No; not that/" " Tou are computing, perhaps, one by one, all your fashionable friends who would be shocked by my levity — that's the phrase, I believe — meaning those outspoken impertinences you encourage me to utter about everything and everybody !" " Far from it. I was " " Oh ! of course, you were charmed," broke she in ; " and so you ought to be, when one performs so dangerous a trick to amuse yon. The audience always applauds the rope-dancer that perils his neck ; and you'd be worse than ungrateful not to screen me when I'm satirised. But it may relieve somewhat the load of obligation when I say that I utter these things just to please myself. I bear the world no il-wil, it is true ; but I'm very fond of laughing at it." " In the name and on behalf of that respectable community, let me return you my thanks," said he, bowing. " Bemember," said she, " how little I really know of what I ridi- cule, and so let my ignorance atone for my ill-nature ; and now, to come back, what was it that you were counting so patiently on your fingers ? Not my faults, I'm certain, or you'd have had both hands." " I'm afraid I could scarcely tell you," said he, " though somehow I feel that if I knew you a very little longer, I conld tell you almost anything." " I wish you could tell me that this pleasant time was coming. What is this ?" asked she, as the waiter entered, and presented her with a visiting-card. DAVENTOBT DUNN. 279 " Monsieur the Count desires to know if Mademoiselle will receive him," said the man. "What, how? "What does this mean?" exclaimed Beecher, in terror and astonishment. " Yes," said she, turning to the waiter ; " say, ' with pleasure.' " " Gracious mercy!" exclaimed Beecher, "you don't know what you're doing. Have you seen this person before ?" " Never !" " Never heard of him ?" " Never," said she, with a faint smile, for the sight of his terror amused her. " But who is he, then ? How has he dared " " Nay," said she, holding behind her back the visiting-card, which he endeavoured to snatch from her hand—" this is my secret !" " This is intolerable !" cried Beecher. " What is your father to think of your admitting a person to visit you ? an utter stranger — a fellow Heaven knows " At this moment, as if to answer in the most palpable form the question he was propounding, a somewhat sprucely dressed man, middle-aged and comely, entered ; and, passing Beecher by with the indifference he might have bestowed on a piece of furniture, advanced to where Lizzy was standing, and taking her hand, pressed it reve- rently to his lips. Bo far from resenting the liberty, she smiled most courteously on him, and motioned to him to take a seat on the sofa beside her. " I can't stand this, by Jove !" said Beecher, aloud; while, with an assumption of courage his heart little responded to, he walked straight up to the stranger. " Tou understand English, I hope ?" said he, in very indifferent French. " Not a syllable," replied the other, in the same language. " I only know ' all right ; ' " and he laughed pleasantly as he uttered the words in an imitation of English. " Come, I'll not torture you any longer," Baid Lizzy, laughing ; "read that." And she handed him the card, whereon, in her father's writing, there was, " See the Count ; he'll tell you everything. — C. D." " I have heard the name before — Count Lienstahl," said Beecher to himself. "Has he seen your father? Where is he?" asked he, eagerly. " He'll inform me on all, if you'll just give him time," said she ; while the Count, with an easy volubility, was pouring out a flow of words perfectly unintelligible to poor Beecher. Whether it was the pleasure of the tidings he brought, or the deli- 280 DAVENPORT DTTNN. cious enjoyment of once more hearing and replying in that charming tongue that she loved so dearly, but Lizzy ceased even to look at Beecher, and only occupied herself with her new acquaintance. Now, while we leave her thus pleasantly engaged, let us present the visitor to our reader. Nothing could be less like the traditional " Continental Count" than the plump, close-shaven, blue-eyed gentleman who sat beside Lizzy Davis, with an expression of bonhomie in his face that might have graced a squire of Devon. He was neither frogged nor mous- tached ; his , countenance neither boded ill to the Holy Alliance, nor any close intimacy with billiards or dice-boxes. A pleasant, easy;- tempered, soft-natured man he seemed, with a ready smile and a happy laugh, , and an air of yielding good-humour about him that appeared to vouch for his being one . none need ever dispute with. If there were few men. less generally known throughout Europe, there was not one whose origin, family, fortune, and belonging were wrapped in more complete obscurity. Some said he was a Pome- ranian, others called him a Swede ; many believed him Eussian, and a few, affecting deeper knowledge, declared he was from Dalmatia. He was a Count, however, of somewhere, and as certainly was he one who had the eyitree to all the best circles of the Continent, member of its most exclusive clubs, and the intimate of those who prided themselves on being careful in their friendships. "While his manners were sufficiently good to pass muster anywhere, there was about him a genial kindliness,- a sort of perennial pleasantry, that was welcome everywhere; he brought to society that inestimable gift of adhesiveness by which cold people and stiff people are ulti- mately enabled to approximate and understand each other. No matter how dull and ungenial the salon, he was scarcely across the doorway, when you saw that an element of social kindliness had just been added, and in his little caressing ways and coaxing inquiries you recognised one who would not let condescension crush nor coldness chill him. If young people were delighted to see one so much their senior indulging in all the gay and light frivolities of life, older folk were gratified to fiud themselves so favourably represented by one able to dance, sing, and play like the youngest in company. So artfully, too, did he contribute his talent to society, that no thought of personal display could ever attach to him. It was all good-nature ; he played to amuse you — he danced to gratify some one else ; he was full of little attentions of a thousand kinds, and you no more thought of repayment than you'd have dreamed of thanking the blessed sun for his warmth or his daylight. Such men are the bonbons of huma- DAVENPORT DUNS'. 281 nity, and even they who do not care for sweet things are pleased to see them. If his birth and origin were mysterious, far more so were his means of life. Nobody ever heard of his agent or his banker. He neither owned nor earned, and yet there he was, as well-dressed, as well cared for and as pleasant a gentleman as you could see. He played a little, but it was notorious that he was ever a loser. He was too constantly a winner in the great game of life to be fortunate as a gambler, and he could well afford to laugh at this one little mark of spitefulness in Fortune. Racing and races were a passion with him ; but he loved sport for itself, not as a speculation — so at least he said ; and when he threw his arm over your shoulder, and said anything in that tone of genial simplicity that was special to him, I'd like to have seen the man — or, still more, the woman — who wouldn't have believed him. The Turf — like poverty — teaches one to know strange bedfellows ; and this will explain how the Count and Grog Davis became acquaint- ances, and something more. The grand intelligence who discovered the great financial problem of France — the Credit Mobilier — has proclaimed to the world that the secret lay in the simple fact, that there were industrial energies which needed capital, and capital which needed industry, and that all he avowed to accomplish was to bring these two distant, but all- necessary, elements into close union and co-operation. Now, some- thing of the same kind moved Grog and the Count to cement their friendship ; each saw that the other supplied some want of his own nature, and before they had passed an hour together they ratified an alliance. An instinct whispered to each, " We are going the same journey in life, let us travel together ;" and some very profitable tours did they make in company ! His presence now was on a special mission from Davis, whom he had just met at Treves, and who despatched him to request his daughter to come on to Carlsruhe, where he would await her. The Count was charged to explain, in some light, easy way of his own, why her father had left Brussels so abruptly; and he was also instructed to take Annesley Beecher into his holy keeping, and not suffer him to fall into indiscretions, or adventure upon speculations of his own • devising. Lizzy thought him " charming" — far more worldly-wise people than Lizzy had often thought the same. There was a bubbling fountain of good-humour about him that seemed inexhaustible. He was always ready for any plan that promised pleasure. Unlike Beecher, who knew nobody, the Count walked the street in a perpetual salu- 282 DAVENPOET DUOT. tation, bowing, hand-shaking, and sometimes kissing, as he went; and in that strange polyglot that he talked he murmured as he went, "Ah, lieber Ireund!"— " Come sta?"— " Addio!" — "Mon meilleur ami!" to each that passed; so that veritably the world did seem only peopled with those who loved him. As for Beecher, notwithstanding a certain distrust at the beginning, he soon fell captive to a manner that few resisted ; and though the intercourse was limited to shaking hands and smiling at each other, the Count's pleasant exclamation of "All right!" with a jovial slap on the shoulder, made him feel that he was a " regular trump," and a man " to depend on." One lurking thought alone disturbed this esteem — he was jealous of his influence over Lizzy ; he marked the pleasure with which she listened to him — the eager delight she showed when he came — her readiness to sing or play for him. Beecher saw all these in sorrow and bitterness; and though twenty times a day he asked himself, " "What the deuce is it to me ? How can it possibly matter to me whom she cares for ?" — the haunting dread never left his mind, and became his very torturer. But why should he worry himself about it at all ? The fellow did what he liked with every one. Eivers, the sulky training groom, that would not have let a Royal Highness see " the horse," actually took Klepper out and galloped him for the Count. The austere landlady of the inn was smiles and courtesy to him ; even to that unpolished class, the hackney coachmen, his blan- dishments extended, and they vied with each other who should serve him. ""We are to start for "Wiesbaden to-morrow," said Lizzy to Beecher. " "Why so — who says so ?" "The Count " " Si, si, andiamo — all right !" cried the Count, laughing ; and the march was ordered. CHAPTER XXXV. A FOREIGN COUNT. The announcement of Count Lienstahl's arrival at "Wiesbaden was received with rejoicing. "Now we shall open the season in earnest. "We shall have balls, pic-nics, races, hurdle-matches, gipsy parties, excursions by land and water! .He'll manage everything DAYENPOET DUNN. 283 and everybody." Such were the exclamations that resounded along the Promenade as the party drove up to the hotel. "Within less than an hour the Count had been to Beberich to visit the reigning Duke, he had kissed hands with half a dozen Serene Highnesses, made his bow to the Chief Minister and the Governor of Wies- baden, and come back to dinner all smiles and delight at the con- descension and kindness of the Court and the capital. If Lienstahl's popularity was great, he only shared a very humble portion of public attention when they appeared at the table dTi6te. There Lizzy Davis attracted every look, and the fame of her beanity was already wide-spread. Such was the eagerness to obtain place at the table, that the most extravagant bribes were offered for a seat, and a well-known elegant of Vienna actually paid a waiter five louis to cede his napkin to him and let him serve in his stead. Beeeher was anything but gratified at these demonstrations. If his taste was offended, his fears were also excited. " Something bad must come of it," was his own muttered reflection ; and as^they retired after dinner to take their coffee, he showed very palpably his displeasure. " Eh, caro mio — all right ?" said the Count, gaily, as he threw an arm over his shoulder. " No, by Jove !— all wrong. I don't like it. It's not the style of thing I fancy." And here his confusion overwhelmed him, and he stopped abruptly ; for the Count, seating himself at the piano, and rattling off a lively prelude, began a well-known air from a popular French vaudeville, of which the following is a rude version : " With a loVely face beside you, You can't walk this world far, But from those who've closely eyed you, Comes the question — Who you are ? And though Dowagers will send you Cutting looks and glances keen, The men will comprehend you When you say — ' C'est ma cousine.' " He was preparing for the second verse when Lizzy entered the room, and turning at once to her, he poured forth some sentences with all that voluble rapidity he possessed. " So," said she, addressing Beeeher, " it seems that you are shocked, or horrified, or your good taste is outraged, by certain demonstrations of admiration for me exhibited by the worthy public of this place ; and, shall I own to you, I liked it. I thought it very nice, and very flattering, and all that, until I thought it was a little — a very little, perhaps, but still a little — impertinent. "Was that your opinion?" 284 DA.VENPOBT DUNN. There was a blunt frankness about this question, uttered in such palpable honesty of intention, that Beecher felt overwhelmed at once. " I don't know the Continent like your friend there. I can't pre- tend to offer you advice and counsel like him ; but if you really ask me, I'd say, 'Don't dine below any more — don't go to the rooms of an evening — don't frequent the Promenade ' " " What would you say to my taking the veil, for I fancy I've some vocation that way ?" And then, turning to the Count, she Baid some- thing in French, at which he laughed immoderately. "Whether vexed with himself or with her, or, more probably still, annoyed by not being able to understand what passed in a foreign language, Beecher took his hat and left the room. "Without his ever suspecting it, a new pang was just added to his former griefs, and he was jealous ! It is very rare that a man begins by confessing a sense of jealousy to his own heart ; he usually ascribes the dislike he feels to a rival to some defect or some blemish in his nature. He is a coarse fellow — rude — vulgar, a coxcomb, or, worst of all, a bore. In some such disposition as this Beecher quitted the town, and strolled away into the country. He felt he hated the Count, and yet he could not perceive why. Lienstahl possessed a vast number of the qualities he was generally disposed to like. He was gay, lively, light-hearted, never out of humour, never even thoughtful — his was that easy temperament that seemed to adapt itself to every phase of life. What was it, then ? What could it be that he disliked about him? It was somewhat "cool," too, of Grog, to send this fellow over without even the courtesy of a line to himself. " Serve him right — serve them all right — if I were to cut my lucky;" and he ru- minated long and anxiously over the thought. His present position was anything but pleasant or nattering to him. For aught he knew, the Count and Lizzy Davis passed their time laughing at his English ignorance of all things foreign. By dint of a good deal of such self- tormenting, he at last reached that point whereat the very slightest additional impulse would have determined him to decamp from his party, and set out, all alone, for Italy. The terror of a day of reckon- ing with Davis was, however, a dread that he could never shake off. Grog the unforgiving, the inexorable ! Grog, whose greatest boast in his vain-glorious moments was that, in the " long run," no man ever got the better of him, would assuredly bring him to book one day or other ; and he knew the man's nature well enough to be aware that no fear of personal consequences would ever balk him on the road to a vengeance. DATENPOET 3HJNN. 285 Sometimes the thought occurred to him that he would make a frank and full confession to Lackington of all his delinquencies, even to that terrible "count" by which the fame and fortune of his house might be blasted for ever. If he could but string up his courage to this pitch, Lackington might "pull him through," Lackington would see that " there was nothing else for it,'' and so on. It is marvellous what an apparent strength of argument lies in those slang expressions familiar to certain orders of men. These conven- tionalities seem to settle at once questions which, if treated in more befitting phraseology, would present the gravest difficulties. He walked on and on, and at last gained a pine wood which skirted the base of a mountain, and soon lost himself in its dark recesses. Gloomier than the place itself were the tone of his reflec- tions. All that he might have been, all that lay so easily within his reach, all that life once offered him, contrasted bitterly with what he now saw himself. Conscience, it is true, suggested few of his present pangs ; he believed — ay, sincerely believed — that he had been more " sinned against than sinning." Such a one had "let him in" here, such another " had sold him" there. In his reminiscences he saw him- self trustful, generous, and confiding, while the world, the great globe that includes Tattersall's, Goodwood, Newmarket, and Ascot, was little better than a nest of knaves and vagabonds. Why couldn't Lackington get him something abroad — in the Brazils or Lima, for instance? He wasn't quite sure where they were, but they were far away, he thought — places too remote for Grog Davis to hunt him out, and whence he could give the great Grog a haughty defiance. They — how it would have puzzled him to say who " they" were they couldn't refuse Lackington if he asked. He was always voting and giving his proxies, and doing all manner of things for them ; he made a speech, too, last year, at Hoxton, and gave a lecture upon some- thing that must have served them. Lackington would begin the old story about character ; " but who had character now-a-days ?" " Take down the Court Guides," cried he, aloud, " and let me give you the private life and adventures of each as you read out the names. Talk of me ! why what have I done equal to what Lockwood, Hepton, Bulkleigh, Frank Melton, and fifty more have done ? No, no ; for public life, now, they must do as a sergeant of the Ninety-fifth told me t'other day, ' "We're obliged to take 'em little, Sir, and glad to get 'em too !' " It might be that there was something grateful to his feelings, re- assuring to his heart, in this reflection, for he walked along now more briskly, and his head higher than before. "Without being aware, he 28S DATEWEOBT DUNSi had already ^nefeome: miles &oifc'the towta^ 3adi hijw fouad. bimaeif in oaet'oi Ukase J&^-i^Biyj«lteyi8.TOl^b.itraiveEsedrtbie)de!HiBe asrood in various* directions. Ab lie -laoiSed dovnitfae.nariSowToad. which seemed like the. vast aisle ®E some ! Gothic cathedral, rhe .felt a sorf of; teeim* loot('iaaftia& beneath Msi feetj!and' then the moment lafter he 'cSouH detect the measured tramp of a horse, ah speed. A slight bend of the alle-jflhafl .'kifhanfco. shiiA oat/ the yiaw,. hut' siaddanlyi a .dark' Reinject caane'sweaping round flbe* turn and advanringiiawaijdBjhiin; Haifio secure alpteititoh, and half with the., thought of. watehing what this might porteiwt, Beecher stepped aside: into the/ dense ibrAslrsroiMl: at the.side* of /the alley, and winch effectually Md him.'&cteifiew.' He, had'ibaoJelyitfmKto make his retreat when; a horse swept pastthim.it full.fltaida, and with one glance hewecCigBiied'hita as "KleppeBf l<> >It was Rivera, too, who rbdehim, sitting high! wear: the fiadflle'ancL-with his hands low, as if racing. Now it was but ;that very mornin|pBivers had».told'Mm,that this hoTse wasn't ^qmterigky a'bit heavy orao about the eyes, "-out af'sorts" he calleditjiasid-yiedehewaBBfflv^fljing aloajg atifcbe topiof his speed dn full health ami oonditaoaal- It needed but thenferfieth part of 'this ia suggest-' a' SBflpicSBnJto . Siich.a. mind, as his, and Mth the v «peed of lightning thereflashed across;hiia'the;nJDtiha ofa"crosB." He, Annesley Beecher, ^wasJiO -Be "pt& into the Jhale^ = to he " squared," and "hobbled;" and! all the^est of it ! ,B dad mot indeed' occur to 'him how very unpr4fi'fcably steelian'eiiteBpriae! would reward its votaries, ttrat"it;would he a most' gratmtsms iniquity to " posh hkn to the wall,'' that ail the ingenious inalevolsBnc&in the world could never make the venture "pay" his self-conceit s'motheredthese reasonings, and he -determined to watch and- to See how the; seheme was to be developed. He had' riVt to wait long in suspense : at the bend of ibhe alley where 1 : the horse' had disappeared two; horsemen were now seen slowly approaching him. ■ As they ,>drew > nearer) Beeehet >eould mark that they were in close', 'and what seemed cpnfi-; dential, Conversation. One he quickly recognised' to be the Ccrnajfcj--- the other, to his amafcemerdi, 'Was Spider," of whose arrival at Akvhe had not heard anything. They moved' so slowly past fch® spot where, he waB standing thatie CotilQ gather some of the w&rds that eseapSd them, although being inltefcch. '< The sound of his own name quickly caught his ear. It was the Count spoke as ttey pa,me' up ; '-'.' ■ " He is apauvreSire, this Beecher, and I don't yet see' what use he can be to us." " Davis likes 'himj or at least he wants him," replied' Splcer, ^and that's enough for Usi ' Bependupon it, ©rOg makes no mistakes," -The other laughed, but what he replied 1 was lost in the distance. DAVENPOBT DUNN. 287 It was some time ere Beecher could summons resolution to leave the place of his concealment and set out towards the town. Of all the sentiments that swayed and controlled him, none had such a perfect mastery over his nature as distrust. It was, in fact, the solitary lesson his life's experience had taught him. He fancied that he could trace every mistake he had ever made, every failure he had ever in- curred, to some unlucky movement of credulity on his own part, and that " believing" was the one great error of his whole life. He had long been of opinion that high station and character had no greater privileges than the power they possessed of imposing a certain trust- fulness in their pledges, and that the great " pull" a Duke had over a " Leg" was that his Grace would be believed in preference; But it also appeared to him that rogues were generally true to each other ; now if this last hope were to be taken away, what was there left in life toclingto? Spicer had said, "Davis wants him." What did that mean? — what could it mean ? Simply that Grog found him, not an asso- ciate or colleague, but a convenient tool. What an intolerable insult that he, the Honourable Annesley Beecher, whose great connexions rambled through half Debrett, was to be accounted a mere outpost sentry in the corps of Grog Davis ! His anger increased as he went along. The wound to his self- esteem was in the very tenderest spot of his nature. Had any man ever sacrificed so much to be a sharp fellow as he had ? Who had, hike him, given up friends, station, career, and prospects ? Who had voluntarily surrendered the society of his equals, and gone down to the very dregs of mankind, just to learn that one great secret ? And was it to be all in vain ? Was all his training and teaching to go for nothing ? Was he, after descending to the ranks, to discover that he never could learn the manual exercise ? How often, in the gloomiest hours of his disappointment, had he hugged the consolation to his heart that Grog Davis knew and valued him! "Ask G. D. if I'm a flat," was the proud rejoinder he would hurl at any attempt to depreciate his shrewdness. What was to become of him, then, if the bank that held all his fortune were to fail ? If Beecher deemed a sharp fellow the most enviable of all mortals, so he regarded a dupe as the meanest and most miserable, and the very thought of such a fate was almost maddening. " No, confound me ! they shan't have it to say that they 'landed' A. B. ; they shall never boast that they nobbled me," cried he, warming with the indignation that worked within him. " I'm off, and this time without beat of drum. Davis may do his worst. I'll lie by snug for a year or two. There must be many a safe spot in Germany or Italy where a man may defy detection." 288 BATENPOET DTTBTN. And then he ran over in his mind all the successful devices he had seen adopted for disguising a man's appearance. Howard Vane had a wig and whiskers that left him. unrecognised by his own mother ; Crofton Campbell travelled with Inspector Field in search of himself all by means of a nose. It was wonderful what science was accom- plishing every day for the happiness and welfare of mankind ! The plan of escape was not without its difficulties, however. First of all, he had no money. - Davis had given him merely enough to pay railroad fares and the charges incidental to the road, and he was living at the hotel on credit. This was a serious obstacle, but it was also one which had so often before occurred in Beecher's experience that he was not so much dismayed by it as many another might have been. " Money was always to be had somehow," was a golden rule of his philosophy, the somehow meaning that it resolved itself into a simple question of skill and address of the individual in want of it. Aix was a considerable town, much frequented by strangers, and must doubtless possess all the civilising attributes of other cities — viz., Jews, money-lenders, and discounters. Then, the landlord of the inn — it was always customary to give him the preference in these cases. He'd surely not refuse an advance of a few hundred francs to a man who came accompanied as he was. Klepper alone was good security for ten times more than he needed. Must it be confessed that he felt elevated in his own esteem when he had resolved upon this scheme. It savoured of shrewdness — that great touchstone of capacity which he revered so highly. " They shall see if I'm a Flat, this time," chuckled he to himself, as he went along ; and he stepped out briskly in the excitement of self-approval. Then he went over in his mind all the angry commentaries that would be passed upon his flight — the passionate fury of Grog, the amazement of Spicer, the almost incredulous surprise of the Count — till at last he came to Lizzy ; and then, for the first time in all his calculations, a sense of shame sent the colour to his cheek, and he blushed till his face grew crimson. "Ay, by Jove ! what will she think ?" muttered he, in a voice of honest truthfulness. How he should appear to her — how he should stand in her estimation — after such an ignoble de- sertion, was a thought not to be encountered by self-praises of his cunning. "What would her " pluck" say to his " cowardice ?" was a terrible query. DAVBNPOBT DUNN. 289 CHAPTEE XXXVI. A COUNIRT VISIT. Let us now return to the Hermitage, and the quiet lives of those who dwelt there. Truly, to the traveller gazing down from some lofty- point of the Glengariff road upon that lowly cottage deep buried in its beech wood, and only showing rare glimpses of its trellised walls, nothing could better convey the idea of estrangement from the world and its ambitions. From the little bay, where the long low waves swept in measured cadence on the sands, to the purple-clad moun- tains behind, the scene was eminently calm and peaceful. The spot was precisely one to suggest the wisdom of that choice which prefers tranquil obscurity to the struggle and conflict of the great world. "What a happy existence would you say was theirs, who could drop down the stream of a life surrounded with objects of such beauty, free to indulge each rising fancy, and safe from all the collisions of mankind ! — how would one be disposed to envy the unbroken peace- fulness that no ambitions ruffled, no rude disappointments disturbed ! And yet such speculations as these are ever faulty, and wherever the human heart throbs, there, will be found its passions, its hopes, and fears. Beneath that quiet roof there dwelt all the elements that make the battle of life ; and high aspirings and ignoble wishes, and love, and fear, and jealousy, and wealth-seeking lived there, as though the spot were amidst the thundering crash of crowded streets, and the din of passing thousands ! Sybella Kellett had been domesticated there about two months, and between Lady Augusta and herself there had grown a sort of inti- macy — short, indeed, of friendship, but in which each recognised good qualities in the other. Had Miss Kellett been older, less good- looking, less graceful in manner, or generally less attractive, it is just ■ possible, that — we say it with all doubt and deference — Lady Augusta might have been equally disposed to feel satisfied. She suspected " Mr. Dunn must have somewhat mistaken the object of her note," or, " overlooked the requirements they sought for." " Personal at- tractions were not amongst the essentials she had mentioned." My "Lord," too, was amazed at his recommending a "mere girl" — she couldn't be more than " twenty" — and consequently, " totally deficient in the class of knowledge he desired." v ^°0 DA.TEHPOHT DTTITlif. Two months — no very long period— however, sufficed to show both father and daughter that they had been, to some extent, mistaken. Not only had she addressed herself to the task of an immense cor- respondence, but she had drawn out reports, arranged prospectuses, and entered into most complicated financial details with a degree of clearness tliat elicited marked compliment from the different bodies with whom this intercourse was maintained. The Glengariff Joint- Stock Company, with its half million capital, figured largely in the public journals. Landscapes of the place appeared in the various illustrated papers, and cleverly written magazine articles drew atten- tion to a scheme that promised to make Ireland a favoured portion of the empire. Her interest once excited, Sybella Kellett's zeal was untiring. Already she anticipated the time when the population of that poor village — now barely subsisting in direst poverty — should be- come thriving and happy. The coast-fisheries — once a prolific source of wealth — were to be revived ; fishing-craft, and tackle, and curing- houses, were all to be provided ; means of transporting the proceeds to the rich markets of England procured. She had also discovered traces of lead in the neighbourhood, and Dunn was written to, to send down a competent person to investigate the matter. In fact, great as was her industry, it seemed only second to an intelligence that adapted itself to every fresh demand and every new exigency, without a moment's interruption. To the old Lord, her resources ap- peared inexhaustible, and gradually he had abandoned the lead and guidance he had formerly given to his plans, and submitted everything to her will and dictation. It did not indeed escape his shrewdness that her zeal was more warmly^engaged by the philanthropy than by the profit of these projects. It was to the advancement of the people, the relief of their misery, the education of their children, the care of their sick, that she looked as the great reward of all that they proposed. " "What a lesson we shall teach the rest of Ireland if we 'succeed!'" was the constant exclamation she uttered. "How we shall be sought after to explain this and reveal that. What a proud day for us will it be when Glengariff shall be visited as the model school of the empire." Thus fed and fostered by her hopes, her imagination knew no bounds, and the day seemed even too short for the duties it exacted. Even Lady Augusta could not avoid catching some of the enthusiasm that animated her, only restraining her expectations, however, by the cautious remark, " I wonder what Mr. Dunn will say ? I am curious to hear how he will pronounce Upon it all." DAVENrOBT DUNN. 291 The day at last came when this fact was to be ascertained, and tie post brought the brief but interesting intelligence that Mr. Daven- port Dunn would reach the Hermitage for dinner. Lord Glengariff would have felt excessively offended could any one have supposed him anxious or uneasy on the score of Dunn's coming. That a great personage like himself should be compelled occasionally in life to descend to the agencies of such people was bad enough, but that he should have any misgivings about his co-operation or assist- ance, was really intolerable ; and yet, we blush to confess, these were precisely the thoughts which troubled his Lordship throughout the whole of that long day. " Not that Dunn has ever forgotten himself with me — not that he has ever shown himself unmindful of our respective stations — so much I must say," were the little scraps of consolation that he re- peated over and over to himself, while grave doubts really oppressed him that we had fallen upon evil days, when men of that stamp usurped almost all the influence that swayed society. No easy mat- ter was it either to resolve what precise manner to assume towards him. A cold and dignified bearing might possibly repel all confi- dence, and an easy .familiarity be just as dangerous, as surrendering the one great superiority his position conferred. It was true his Lordship had never yet experienced any difficulty on such a score — of all men, he possessed a consummate sense of his own dignity, and suffered none to infringe it, but " this fellow Dunn had been spoiled." Great men — greater men than Lord Glengariff himself— had asked him to dinner. He had passed the thresholds of certain fine houses in Piccadilly, and well-powdered lacqueys in Park-lane had called "Mr. Dunn's carriage." Now the Irishman that has soared to the realm of whitebait with a Minister, or even a Star and Garter luncheon with a Secretary of State, becomes, to the eyes of his home- bred countrymen, a very different person from the celebrity of mere Castle attentions and Phoenix Park civilities. Dunn was this, and more. He lounged into the Irish-office as into his own lodgings, and he walked into the most private chambers of Downing-street as if by right. Consulted or not, he had the reputation of holding the patronage of all Ireland in his hands ; and, assuredly, they who attained promotion were not slow in testifying to what quarter they owed their gratitude. Some of that mysterious grandeur that clung to the old religions of the Greeks seems to hover around the acts of a great Government, till the Ministers, like Priests or Augurs, ap- pear less equals and fellow-men than stewards and dispensers of immense bounties entrusted to their keeping. There was about u2 292 DAYESTPOBT ETON. Dunn's manner much to foster this illusion. He was a Wending of mystery with the deepest humility, hut with a very evident desire that you should neither believe one nor the other. It was the same conscious power looming through the affected modesty of his pre- tensions that offended Lord Glengariff, and made him irritable in all his intercourse with him. Let us take a passing glance at Lady Augusta. And why, may we ask, has she taken such pains about her toilette to-day ? Not that her dress is unusually rich or costly, but she has evidently made a study of the " becoming," and looks positively handsome. She remembered something of a fuchsia in her hair, long, long ago ; and now, by mere caprice, of course, she has interwove one in those dark clusters, never glossier nor : more silky. Her calm, cold features, too, have caught up a gentler expression, and her voice is softer and lower. Her maid can make nothing of it. Lady Augusta has been so gracious and so thoughtful, and asked about her poor old sick grandmother. Well, these sunlights are meant to show what the coldest landscapes may become when smiled on by brighter skies ! And Sybella. Pale and melancholy, and in mourning, she, too, has caught up a sense of pleasure at the coming visit, and a faint line of colour tinges her white cheek. She is very glad that Mr. Dunn is expected. " She has to thank him for many kindnesses ; his prompt replies to her letters ; his good-nature to poor Jack, for whom he has repeatedly written to the Horse Guards ; not to speak of the words of encouragement and hope he has addressed to herself. Tes, he is, indeed, her friend ; perhaps her only friend in the world." And now they are met in the drawing-room, waiting with anxiety for some sounds that may denote the great man's coining. The three windows open to the ground ; the rich sward, spangled here and there with carnations or rich-scented stocks, slopes down towards a little river, from the bridge over which a view is caught of the Glengariff road, and to this Bpot each has silently loitered, and, as listlessly, turned back again without a word. " "We are waiting for Mr. Dunn, Augusta, ain't we ?" asked Lord Glengariff, as if the thought had just suddenly struck him for the first time. " Tes," replied she, gravely; " he promised us his company to-day at dinner." " Are you quite sure it was to-day he mentioned ?" said he, with an affected indifference in his tone. " Miss Kellett can inform us with certainty." DATENPOET DUNN. 293 " He said Thursday, and in time for dinner," said Sybella, not a little puzzled at this by-play of assumed forgetfulness. " The man who makes his own appointments ought to keep them. I am five minutes beyond the half hour," said Lord Glengariff, as he looked at his watch. " I suspect you are a little fast," observed Lady Augusta. " There ! — I think I heard the crack of a postilion's whip," cried Sybella, as she went outside the window to listen. Lady Augusta fol- lowed, and was soon at her side. " You appear anxious for Mr. Dunn's coming. Is he a very inti- mate friend of yours, Miss Kellett ?" said she, with a keen, quick glance of her dark eyes. " He was the kind friend of my father, when he lived, and, since his death, he has shown himself not less mindful of me. There — I hear the horses plainly ! Can't you hear them now, Lady Au- gusta?" "And how was this kindness evidenced — in your own case I mean ?" said Lady Augusta, not heeding her question. "By advice, by counsel, by the generous interference which pro- cured for me my present station here, not to speak of the spirit of his letters to me." " So then you correspond with him ?" asked she, reddening sud- denly. " Yes," said she, turning her eyes fully on the other. And thus they stood for some seconds, when, with a slight, but very slight motion of impatience, Lady Augusta said, " I was not aware — I mean, I don't remember your having men- tioned this circumstance to me." " I should have done so if I thought it could have had any interest v for you," said Sybella, calmly. " Oh, there is the carriage coming up the drive ; I knew I was not mistaken." Lady Augusta made no reply, but returned hastily to the house. Bella paused for a few seconds, and followed her. No sooner was Mr. Dunn's carriage seen approaching the little bridge over the stream than Lord Glengariff rang to order dinner. " It will be a rebuke he well merits," said he, " to find the soup on Jihe table as he drives up." There was something more than a mere movement of irritation in this ; his Lordship regarded it as a fine stroke of policy, by which Dunn's arrival, tinged with constraint and awkwardness, should place ■that gentleman at a disadvantage during the time he stayed, Lord 294 DAVE1TP0BT DUNN. Glengariff 's favourite theory being, that " these people were insuf- ferable when at their ease." Ah, my Lord, your memory was picturing the poor tutor of twenty years before, snubbed and scoffed at for his ungainly ways and ill- made garments — the man heavy in gait and awkward in address, sulky when forgotten, and shy when spoken to — this was the Daven- port Dunn of your thoughts ; there the very door lie used to creep through in bashful confusion, yonder the side-table where he dined in a mockery of consideration. Little, indeed, were you prepared for him whose assured voice was already heard outside giving orders to his servant, and who now entered the drawing-room with all the ease of a man of the world. " Ah, Dunn, most happy to see you here. No accident, I trust, occurred to detain you," said Lord Glengariff, meeting him with a well-assumed cordiality, and then, not waiting for his reply, went on : " My daughter, Lady Augusta, an old acquaintance — if you have not forgotten her. Miss Kellett you are acquainted with." Mr. Dunn bowed twice, and deeply, before Lady Augusta, and then, passing across the room, shook hands warmly with Sybella. "Blow did you find the roads, Dunn?" asked his Lordship, still fishing about for some stray word of apology ; " rather heavy, I fear, at this season." " Capital roads, my Lord, and excellent horses. "We came along at a rate which would have astonished the lumbering posts of the Con- tinent." " Dinner, my Lord," said the butler, throwing wide the folding- doors. "Will you give Lady Augusta your arm, Dunn ?" said Lord Glen- gariff, as he offered his own to Miss Kellett. " We have changed our dinner-room, Mr. Dunn," said Lady Au- gusta, as they walked along ; thus by a mere word suggesting " by- gones and long ago." "And with advantage, I should say," replied he, easily, as he sur- veyed the spacious and lofty apartment into which they had just en- tered. " The old dinner-room was low-ceilinged and gloomy." " Do you really remember it ?" asked she, with a pleasant smile. " An over good memory has accompanied me through life, Lady Augusta," said he. And then, as he remarked the rising colour of her cheek, quickly added, '' It is rarely that the faculty treats me to such grateful recollections as the present." Lord Glengariff 's table was a good specimen of conntry-house living. All the materials were excellent, and the cookery reasonably DAVENFOBT DVSH. 295 good ; his wine was exquisite — the years and epochs connoisseurship loves to dwell upon ; but Mr. Dunn ate sparingly and drank little. He had passed forty without gourmand tastes, and no man takes to epicurism, after that. His Lordship beheld, not without secret dissatis- faction, his curdiest salmon declined, his wonderful " south-down" sent away scarcely tasted, and, horror of horrors ! saw water mixed with his 1815 claret as if it were a " little Bordeaux wine" at a Swiss table d'hote. " Mr. Dunn has no appetite for our coarse country fare, Augusta," said Lord Glengariff; " you must take him over the cliffs to-morrow and let him feel the sharp Glengariff air. There's nothing but hunger for it." " Pardon me, my Lord, if I say that I accept with gratitude the proposed remedy, though I don't acknowledge a just cause for it. I am always a poor eater." " Tell him of Beverley, Augusta — tell him of Beverley," said my Lord. " Oh, it was simply a case similar to your own," said she, hesitat- ingly, "and in all probability incurred in the same way. The Duke of Beverley, a very hard-worked man, as you know, alwayB at Down- ing-street at ten, and never leaving it till night, came here two years ago to pass a few weeks with us, and although hale and stout to look at, could eat nothing — that is, he cared for nothing. It was in vain we put in requisition all our little culinary devices to tempt him ; he sat down with us, and, like yourself, would fain persuade us that he dined, but he really touched nothing ; and, in utter de- spair, I determined to try what a course of open air and exercise would do." " She means eight hours a day hard walking, Dunn," chimed in Lord Glengariff; "a good grouse-shooter's pace, too, and cross country." "Well, confess that my remedy succeeded," said she, trium- phantly. " That it did. The Duke went back to town fifteen years younger. !No one knew him ; the Queen didn't know him. And to this day he says, ' Whenever I'm hipped or]out of sorts, I know what a resource I have in the Glengariff heather.' " It is possible that Davenport Dunn listened with more of interest to this little incident because the hero of it was a Duke and a Cabinet Minister. Assuredly the minor ills of life, the petty stomachic miseries, and such like, are borne with a more becoming patience when we know 296 DAVENPOBT DUNN. that they are shared by Peers and great folk. Not by you, valued reader, nor even by me — we have no such weaknesses — but by the Davenport Dunns of this world, of one of whom we are now treating. It was pleasant, too, to feel that he not only had a Ducal ailment, but that he was to be cured like his Grace ! And so he listened eagerly as Lady Augusta went on to tell of the various localities, strange and unpronounceable, that they used to visit ; and how his Grace loved to row across such an arm of the lake ; and what delight he took in the ascent of such a mountain. " But you shall judge for yourself, Mr. Dunn," said she, smiling, " and I now engage you for to-morrow, after breakfast." And with that she arose, and, accompanied by Sybella, passed into the drawing-room. Dunn was about to fol- low, when Lord Glengariff called out, "I'm of the old school, Dunn, and must have half an hour with my bottle before I join the ladies." We do not stop to explain — perhaps we should not succeed to our wishes if we tried — why it was that Dunn was more genial, better satisfied, and more at his ease than when the dinner began, but so it was, that as he filled the one glass of claret he meant to indulge in, he felt that he had been exaggerating to his own mind the disagree- ables of this visit, and that everybody was kinder, pleasanter, and more natural than he had expected. "Jesting apart, Dunn," said his Lordship, "Augusta is right. "What you require is rest — perfect repose ; never to read or write a letter for three weeks, not look at a newspaper, nor receive a tele- graphic despatch. Let us try if Glengariff cannot set you up. The fact is, we can't spare you." " Tour opinion is too flattering by half, my Lord ; but really, any one — I mean any one whose views are honest, and whose intentions are upright — can complete the work I have begun. There is no secret — no mystery in it." " Come, come, this is over modest. We all know that your head alone could carry on the vast number of these great schemes which are now in operation amongst us. Could you really tell the exact number of companies of which you are Director ?" "I'm afraid to say that I could," said Dunn, smiling. " Of course you couldn't. It is marvellous — downright marvellous — how you get through it. Tou rise early, of course ?" " Tes, my Lord, at five, summer and winter ; light my own fire, and sit down to the desk till eight ; by that time I have finished my correspondence on business topics. I then take a cup of tea and a little dry toast. This is my preparation for questions of politics, which DAVENFOBT DITirif. 297 usually occupy me till eleven. Prom that hour till three I receive deputations— heads of companies, and such like. I then take my ride, weather permitting, and usually contrive to call at the Lodge till nigh dinner hour. If alone, my meal is a frugal one, and soon despatched ; and then begins the real work of the day. A short nap of twenty minutes refreshes me, and I address myself with energy to my task. In these quiet hours, undisturbed and uninterrupted — for I admit none, not one, at such seasons — my mind is clear and un- clouded, and I can work, without a sense of fatigue, till past midnight ; it has even happened that morning has broke upon me without my being aware of it." " No health, no constitution, could stand that, Dunn," said Lord Glengariff, with a voice artfully modulated to imply deep interest. " Men are mere relays on the road of life ; when one sinks, wearied or worn out, a fresh one comes forth ready to take his place in the traces." " That may be— that may be, in the mass of cases ; but there are exceptional men, Dunn — men who — men, in fact, whose faculties have such an adaptiveness to the age we live in — do you perceive my mean- ing? — men of the situation, as the French say." Here his Lordship began to feel that he was getting upon very ticklish ground, and by no means sure how he was to get safely back again ; when, with a vio- lent plunge, he said, " That fellow Washington was one of those men, Louis Napoleon is another, and you — I don't hesitate to say it — you are also an instance of what I mean." Dunn's pale face flushed up as he muttered some broken words of deprecating meaning. " The circumstances, I am aware, are different. Tou have not to revolutionise a country, but you have undertaken just as hard a task : to remodel its social state — to construct out of the ruined materials of a bankrupt people the elements of national wealth and greatness. Let no man tell me, Sir, that this is not a bolder effort than the other. Horse, foot, and dragoons, as poor Grattan used to say, won't aid you here. To your own clear head, and your own keen intellect, must you trust." " My dear Lord," broke in Dunn, in a voice not devoid of emotion, " you exaggerate both my labour and my capacity. I saw that the holders of Irish property were not the owners, and I determined that tliey should be so. I saw that the people were improvident, less from choice than necessity, and I gave them banks. I saw land unproduc- tive for want of capital, and I established the principle of loans for drainage and other improvements. I perceived that our soil and our 298 DAVEITPOBT DTON. climate favour certain species of cultivation, and as certainly deny some others. I popularised this knowledge." " And you call this nothing ! "Why, Sir, where's the statesman can point to such a list of legislative acts ? Peel himself has left no such legacy behind him." " Ah, my Lord, this is too nattering — too flattering by half." And Dunn sipped his wine and looked down. " By the way, my Lord," said he, after a pause, " how has my recommendation in the person of Miss Kellett succeeded ?" "A very remarkable young woman — a singularly-gifted person indeed," said the old Lord, pompously. " Some of her ideas are tinctured, it is true, with that canting philanthropy we are just now infected with — that tendency to discover all the virtue in rags and all the vice in purple ; but, with this abatement to her utility, I must say she possesses a very high order of mind. She comes of a good family, doesn't she?" " None better. The Kelletts of Kellett's Court were equal to any gentry in this county." " And left totally destitute ?" "A mere wreck of the property remains, and even that is so cumbered with claims and so involved in law, that I scarcely dare to say that they have an acre they can call their own." " Poor girl. A hard case — a very hard case. "We like her much, Dunn. My daughter finds her very companionable ; her services, in a business point of view, are inestimable. All those reports you have seen are hers, all those drawings made by her hand." " I am aware, my Lord, how much of zeal and intelligence she has displayed," said Dunn, who had no desire to let the conversation glide into the great G-lengariff scheme, " and I am also aware how gratefully she feels the kindness she has met with under this roof." " That is as it should be, Dunn, and I am rejoiced to hear it. It is in no spirit of self-praise I say it, but in simple justice — we do — my daughter and myself, both of us — do endeavour to make her feel that her position is less that of dependent than — than — companion." "I should have expected nothing less from your Lordship nor Lady Augusta," said Dunn, gravely. " Yes, yes ; you knew Augusta formerly ; you can appreciate her high-minded and generous character, though I think she was a mere child when you saw her first." " Very young indeed, my Lord," said Dunn, colouring faintly. "She is exactly, however, what she then promised to be — an Arden, a genuine Arden, Sir ; no deceit, no double ; frank, outspoken ; too DAVENPOBT DTTN1T. 299 much so, perhaps, for our age of mock courtesy, but a noble-hearted girl, and one fit to adorn any station." There was an honest, earnest sincerity in the old Lord's manner that made Dunn listen with respect to the sentiments he uttered, though in his heart the epithet girl, as applied to Lady Augusta, seemed somewhat ill chosen. " I see you take no wine, so that, if you have no objection, we'll join the ladies." " Tour Lordship was good enough to tell me that I was to make myself perfectly at home here ; may I begin at once to ayail myself of your kindness, and say that for this evening I beg to retire early ? I have a number of letters to read, and some to answer." " Really, Lady Augusta will feel quite offended if you slight her tea-table." " Nay, my Lord. It is only for this evening, and I am sure you will make my excuses becomingly." " It shall be as you please," said the old Lord, with a rather stiff courtesy. " Thank you, my Lord ; thank you. I assure you it is very rarely the sacrifice to duty costs me so keenly. Good night." CHAPTER XXXVII. " A MAN IN REQUEST." The bountifully-spread breakfast-table of the following morning was not destined to be graced by Mr. Dunn's presence. A clerk had arrived early in the morning with a mass of correspondence from Dublin, and a Government messenger, armed with an ominous-looking led box, came post haste about an hour later, while a request for a cup of tea in his own room explained that Mr. Dunn was not to make his appearance in public. " This savours of downright slavery," said Lady Augusta, whose morning toilette was admirably devised. "Tome it savours of downright humbug," said Lord Glengariff pettishly. " No one shall tell me that a man has not time to eat his meals like a gentleman. A Secretary of State doesn't give himself Missing Page Missing Page 302 DAVENPOBT BTJNN. " What was it Lady Augusta said ?" cried Lord Glengariff, as she left the room. "I scarcely heard her aright, my Lord," said Sybella, whose face was now crimson. It was the first moment in her life in which dependence had ex- posed her to insult, and she could not collect her faculties, or know what to do. " These things," said Lord Glengariff, pushing the despatches con- temptuously away, " add nothing to our knowledge. That writer in the Times gives us everything we want to know, and gives it better too. Send them back to Sunn, and ascertain, if you can, when we are likely to see him. I want him to come down to the bay ; he ought to see the. harbour and the coast. Manage this, Miss Kellett — not from me, of course, but in your own way — and let me know." Lord Glengariff now left the room, and Sybella was once more deep in the despatches. Dry and guarded as they were — formal, with all the stamp of official accuracy— they yet told of the greatest and grandest struggle of our age. It was a true war of Titans, with the whole world for spectators. The splendid heroism of our army seemed even eclipsed by the unbroken endurance of daily hardship — that stern and uncom- plaining courage that faced death in cold blood, and marched to the fatal trenches with the steadfast tramp of a forlorn hope. " No conscript soldiers ever bore themselves thus," cried she, in ecstasy. " These are the traits of personal gallantry — not the disci- plined bravery that comes of the serried file and the roll of the drum." "With all her anxieties for his fate, she gloried to think " dear Jack " was there — that he was bearing his share of their hardships, and reaping his share of their glory. And oh ! if she could but read mention of his name — if she could hear of him quoted for some act of gallantry, or, better still, some trait of humanity and kindness — that he had rescued a wounded comrade, or succoured some poor maimed and forlorn enemy ! How hard was it for her on that morning, full of these themes, to address herself to the daily routine of her work. The grand panorama of war continued to unrol itself before her eyes, and the splendid spectacle of the contending armieB revealed itself like a picture before her. The wondrous achievements she had read of reminded her of those old histories which had been the delight of her childhood, and she gloried to think that the English race was the same in daring and in chivalry as it had shown itself centuries back ! ^ DAYENPOBT DUNN. 303 She tried hard to persuade herself that the peaceful triumphs of art, the great discoveries of science, were finer and grander develop- ments of human nature ; but with all her ingenuity they seemed in- glorious and poor beside the splendid displays of heroism. "And now to my task," said she, with a sigh,, as she folded up the ma|>af the Crimea, on which she was tracing the events of the war. Her work of that'morniflg was the completion of a little " Memoir" of Grlengarifliand its vicinity; written in that easy and popular style which-finds aec&ptance in our periodicals, and meant to draw attention to the great scheme for. whose accomplishment a company was to be formed. Lord Glengariff wished this, sketch should be completed while Dunn was still there, so that it might be shown him, and his opinion be obtained upon it. , , Never had her task seemed so difficult — never so uncongenial; and though she laboured hard to summon up all her former interest in the great enterprise, her thoughts would stray away, in spite of her, to the indented shores of the Crimea,, and the wild and swelling plains around Sebastopol. Determined to see if change • of place might not effect some change of thought, she carried her papers' to a little summer-house on the river-side, and once more addressed herself resolutely to her work. "With an energy that rarely failed her, she soon overcame the late distraction, and wrote away rapidly and with ease. ;She at last reached, that stage in her essay where, having enumerated all the advantages^ the locality* she desired ,to show how nothing was wanting to complete its celebrity and -recognition but the touch of some of those great financial magicians whose great privilege; it is to develop the wealth r and augment the resources of their fellow-men. She dwelt earnestly and, indeed, eloquently on the beauty of the scenery, , She knew it in every varying aspect of its colouring, and she lingered over $ description, of which the reality had so often captivated her. Still, even here, the fostering hand of taste might yet contribute much. GEhe stone pine and the ilex would blend favourably with the lighter foliage of the ash and the hazel, and many a fine .point of view was still all but inaccessible for want of a footpath. How beautifully^ too, would the tasteful cottage of some true lover of the picturesque peep from amidst the evergreen oaks that grew down to the very shore. While she wrote, a shadow fell over her paper. She looked up, and saw Mr. Dunn. He had strolled by accident to the spot, and entered unperceived by her. " What a charming place you have chosen for your study, Miss Kellett," said he, seating himself at the table. " Not but I believe " 304 DAVEUPOST DUNN. continued he, "that when once deeply engaged in a pursuit, one takes little account of surrounding objects. Pastorals have been com- posed in garrets, and our greatest romancer wrote some of his most thrilling scenes amid the noise and common-place interruptions of a Court of Sessions. " Such labours as mine," said she, smiling, " neither require nor deserve the benefit of a chosen spot." " Tou are engaged upon Grlengariff," said he ; "ami at liberty to look ?" And he took the paper from the table as he spoke. At first he glanced half carelessly at the lines, but as he read on he became more attentive, and at last, turning to the opening pages, he read with marked earnestness and care. " You have done this very well — admirably well," said he, as be laid it down; "but shall I be forgiven if I make an ungracious speech ?" " Say on," said she, smiling good-naturedly. " "Well, then," said he, drawing along breath, "you are pleading an impossible cause. They who suggested it were moved by the success of those great enterprises which every day develops around us, and which, by the magic word ' Company,' assume vitality and consistence ; they speculated on immense profits just as they could compute a problem in arithmetic. It demanded so much skill and no more. You — I have no need that you should tell me so — were actuated by very different motives. Tou wanted to benefit a poor and neglected peasantry, to disseminate amongst them the blessings of comfort and civilisation ; you, were eager for the philanthropy of the project, they for its gain." " But why, as a mere speculation, should it be a failure ?" broke she in. " There are too many reasons for such a result," said he, with a melancholy smile. " Suffice it if I give you only one. We Irish are not in favour just now. While we were troublesome and rebellious, there was an interest attached to us — we were dangerous ; and even in the sarcasms of the English press there lurked a secret terror of some great convulsion here which should shake the entire empire. We are prosperous now, and no longer picturesque. Our better fortune has robbed us of the two claims we used to have on English sympathy ; we are neither droll nor ragged, and so they can neither laugh at our humour nor sneer at our wretchedness. Will not these things show you that we are not likely to be fashionable ? I say this to you ; to Lord Glengariff I will speak another language. I will tell him that his scheme will not attract speculators. I myself cannot DAYENPOET DTJNN. 305 advocate it. I never link my name with defeats. He will be, of course, indignant, and we shall part on bad terms. He is not the first I have refused to make rich." There was a tone of haughty assumption in the way he spoke these words that astonished Sybella, who gazed at him without speaking. " Are you happy here ?" asked he, abruptly. " Tes — that is, I have been so up to this " " In short, until I had robbed you of an illusion," said he, inter- rupting her. " Ah ! how many a pang do these ' awakenings' cost us in life !" muttered he, half to himself. " Every one has his ambitions of one sort or other, and fancies his goal the true one ; but his faith once disturbed, how hard it is to address himself earnestly to another creed !" " If it be duty," broke she in, " and if we have the consciousness of an honest breast and a right intention " " That is to say, if we gain a verdict in the court where we ourselves sit as judge," said he, with a suddenness that surprised her. " I, for instance, have my own sense of what is right and just, am I quite sure it is yows ? I see certain anomalies in our social condition, great hardships, heavy wrongs ; if I address myself to correct them, am I so certain that others will concur with me ? The battle of life, like every other conflict, is one in which to sustain the true cause one must do many a cruel thing. It is only at last, when success has crowned all your efforts, that the world condescends to say you have done well." " Tou, of all men, can afford to await this judgment patiently." " "Why do you say that of me ? " asked he, eagerly. " Because, so long as I can remember, I have seen your name as- sociated with objects of charity and benevolence ; and not these alone, but with every great enterprise that might stimulate the efforts and develop the resources of the country." " Some might say that personal objects alone influenced me," said he, in a low voice. " How poor and narrow-minded would be such a judgment," re- plied she, warmly. " There is an earnestness in high purpose no self- seeking could ever counterfeit." " That is true — quite true," said he ; " but are you so certain that the world makes the distinction ? Does not the vulgar estimate con- found the philanthropist with the speculator ? I say this with sor- row," said he, painfully, " for I myself am the victim of this very in- justice." He paused for a few seconds, and then rising, he said " Let us stroll along the river-side ; we have both worked enough x 306 DAVENPOBT DUNN. for the day." She arose at once, and followed him. " It is ever an ungracious theme — oneself," said he, as they walked along ; " but, somehow, I am compelled to talk to you, and, if you will allow me, confidentially." He did not wait for a reply, but went on : " There was, in the time of the French Eegency, a man named Law, who, by dint of deep study and much labour, arrived at the discovery of a great financial scheme, so vast, so comprehensive, and so complete was it, that not only was it able to rescue the condition of the State from bankruptcy, but it disseminated through the trading classes of the nation the sound principles of credit on which alone commerce can be based. Now this man — a man of unquestionable genius and — if benefits to one's species gave a just title to the name — a philanthro- pist — lived to see the. great discovery he had made prostituted to the basest arts of scheming speculators. From the Prince, who was his patron, to the humblest agent of the Bourse, he met nothing but du- plicity, falsehood, and treachery, and he ended by being driven in shame and ignominy from the land he had succeeded in rescuing from impending ruin ! You will say that the people and the age ex- plain much of this base ingratitude, but believe me, nations and eras are wonderfully alike. The good and evil of this world go on repeat- ing themselves in cycles with a marvellous regularity. The fate which befel Law may overtake any who will endeavour to imitate him ; there is but one condition which can avert this catastrophe, and that is success. Law had too long deferred to provide for his own secu- rity. Too much occupied with his grand problem, he had made himself neither rich nor great, so that when the hour of adversity came no barriers of wealth or power stood between him and his enemies. Had he foreseen'this catastrophe — had he anticipated it — he might have so dovetailed his own interests with those of the State, that attack upon one involved the fate of the other. But Law did nothing of the kind ; he made friends of Princes, and with the fortune that attaches to such friendships, he fell!" For some minutes he walked along at her Bide without speaking, and then resumed : " With all these facts be- fore me, I, too, see that Law's fate may be my own !" "But have you " When she had gone thus far, Sybella stopped and blushed deeply, unable to continue. " Yes," said he, answering what might have been her words — " yes, it was my ambition to have been to Ireland what Law was to France — not what calumny and injustice have pictured him, remember, but the great reformer, the great financier, the great philanthropist — to make this faction-torn land a great and united nation. To develop the resources of the richest country in Europe was no mean ambition, and BATENPOET DTTirar. 307 he who even aspired to it was worthy of a better recompense than attack and insult." " I have seen none of these," broke she in. " Indeed, so long as I remember, I can call to mind only eulogies of your zeal, praises of your intelligence, and the grandeur of your designs." " There are such, however," said he, gloomily ; " they are the first low murmurings, too, of a storm that will come in full force hereafter ! Let it come," muttered he, below his breath. "If I am to fall, it shall be like Samson, and the temple shall fall with me." Sybella did not catch his words, but the look of his features as he spoke them made her almost shudder with terror. " Let us turn back," said she ; " it is growing late." Without speaking, Dunn turned his steps towards the cottage, and walked along in deep thought. " Mr. Hankes has come, Sir," said Dunn's servant, as he reached the door. And without even a word, Dunn hastened to his own CHAPTEE XXXVHI. MB. DAVENPORT DUNN IN MORE HOODS THAN ONE. Although Mr. Hankes performs no very conspicuous part in our story, he makes his appearance at the Hermitage with a degree of pomp and circumstance which demand mention. With our reader's kind leave, therefore, we mean to devote a very brief chapter to that gentleman and his visit. As in great theatres there is a class of persons to whose peculiar skill and ability are confided all the details of " spectacle," all those grand effects of panoramic splendour which in a measure make the action of the drama subordinate to the charms of what, more pro- perly, ought to be mere accessories, so modern speculation has called to its aid its own special machinists and decorators — a gifted order of men, capable of surrounding the driest and least promising of en- terprises with all the pictorial attractions and attractive graces of the "ballet." If it be a question of a harbour or dock company, the prospectus is headed with a coloured print, wherein tall three-deckers mingle with close-reefed cutters, their gay buntings fluttering in the breeze as the light waves dance around the bows ; from the sea beneath to i2 308 DA.VENPOET DUNS'. the clouds above all is motion and activity — meet emblems of the busy- shore where commerce lives and thrives. If it be a building specu- lation, the architecture is but the background of a brilliant " mall," where splendid equipages and caracolling riders figure, with gay para- sols and sleek poodles intermixed. One " buys in" to these stocks with feelings far above " five per cent." A sense of the happiness diffused amongst thousands of our fellow-creatures — the " blessings of civilisation," as we like to call the extension of cotton prints — cheer and animate us ; and while laying out our money advantageously, we are crediting our hearts with a large balance on the score of philanthropy. To foster this com- mendable tendency, to feed the tastes of those who love, so to say, to " shoot at Fortune with both barrels," an order of men arose, cunning in all the devices of advertisement, learned in the skill of capitals, and adroit in illustrations. Of these was Mr. Haukes. Originally brought up at the feet of George Eobins, he was imported into Ireland by Mr. Davenport Dunn as his chief man of business — the Grand Vizier of Joint-Stock Companies and all industrial speculations. If Doctor Pangloss was a good man for knowing " what wickedness was," Mr. Hankes might equally pretend to skill in all enterprises, since he had experienced for a number of years every species of failure and defeat. The description of his residences would fill half a column of a newspaper. They ranged from Brompton to Boulogne, and took in everything from Wilton-crescent to St. John's-wood. He had done a little of everything, too, from " Chief Commissioner to the Isthmus" — we never heard of what isthmus — to Parliamentary Agent for the friends of Jewish emancipation. With a quickness that rarely deceived him, Dunn saw his capabilities. He regarded him as fighting fortune so bravely with all the odds against him, that he ventured to calculate what such a man might be, if favourably placed in the world. The fellow who could bring down his bird with a battered old flint musket might reasonably enough distinguish him- self if armed with an Enfield rifle. The venture was not, however, entirely successful ; for though Hankes proved himself a very clever fellow, he was only really great under difficulties. It was with the crash of falling fortunes around him — amidst debt, bankruptcy, execu- tions, writs, and arrests — Hankes rose above his fellows, and displayed all the varied resources of his fertile genius. The Spartan vigour of his mind assorted but badly with prosperity, and Hankes waxed fat and indolent, affected gorgeous waistcoats and chains, and imper- ceptibly sank down to the level of those decorative arts we have just DAVENPOET DUNN. 309. alluded to. The change was curious : it was as though Gerard or Gordon Cumming should have given up lion-hunting and taken to teach piping bullfinches ! Every venture of Davenport Dunn was prosperous. All his argo- sies were borne on favouring winds, and Hankes saw his great defen- sive armour hung up to rust and to rot. Driven in some measure, therefore, to cut out his path in life, he invented that grand and gorgeous school of enterprise whose rashness and splendour crush into insignificance all the puny attempts of common-place speculators. He only talked millions — thousands he ignored. He would accept of no names on the direction of his schemes save the very highest in rank. If he crossed the Channel, his haste required a special steamer. If he went by rail, a special train awaited him. The ordinary world, moving along at its tortoise pace, was shocked at the meteor course that every now and then shot across the hemisphere, and felt humi- liated in their own hearts by the comparison. Four smoking posters, harnessed to the neatest and lightest of travelling carriages, had just deposited Mr. Hankes at the Hermitage, and he now sat in Mr. Dunn's dressing-room, arranging papers and sorting documents in preparation for his arrival. It was easy to perceive that as Dunn entered the room he was very far from feeling pleased at his lieutenant's presence there. " "What was there so very pressing, Mr. Hankes," said he, " that could not have awaited my return to town ?" " A stormy meeting of the Lough Allen Tin Company yesterday, Sir— a very stormy meeting indeed. Shares down to twenty-seven and an eighth — unfavourable report on the ore, and a rumour — mere rumour, of course — that the last dividend was paid out of capital." " Who says this f " asked Dunn, angrily. " The True Blue, Sir, hinted as much in the evening edition, and the suggestion was at once caught up by the Tory press." " Macken— isn't that the man's name— edits the True Blue ?" " Yes, Sir ; Michael Macken." " "What have we against Urn, Hankes ? If my memory deceives me not, we have something. Oh, I remember ! he's the fellow of the forged stamps. I suppressed the charge at the Stamp-omce, but I have all the papers to substantiate it. See him— don't write Hankes, see him— and show him how he stands. Let the article be fully contradicted, and an apology inserted." Mr. Hankes made a memorandum in his note-book, and went on : " Fenwick— Sir "William Fenwick— retires from the Munster Bank Directipn, and threatens a public letter with his reasons." 310 DAVEKTPOET DOTTS. " I know them ; he has obtained the loan he looked for, and wants to dissolve the connexion now, but we don't so readily part with dear friends ! See him also, Hankes, and say that a certain play transaction at Malta would figure awkwardly in any controversy be- tween us, and that I know the man who took up the card from the floor." " This will be open war, won't it ?" asked Hankes. " No ; it will be the foundation of a friendship for life," said Dunn, smiling. " Captain Palmer — that's a bad business, that of Palmer," said Hankes, shaking his head. " He came to the office in a towering passion yesterday, and it was all I could do to prevent him breaking out before the clerks. He said that when he gave up the stipendiary magistrateship, he had a distinct promise of a Consulate in Prance, and now he is gazetted Coast Commissioner at the Niger, where no- body was ever known to survive the first autumn." " Tell him he need not go out till spring ; that will give us six months to promote him, either in this world or the next. The man is of no consequence, any how." " Colonel Masham refuses to ratify the sale of Kilbeacon." " "Why so — on what pretext ?" asked Dunn, angrily. " He says you promised to support his canvass for Loughrea, and that your agents are secretly doing all in their power to defeat him ; that no later than last Sunday, Father Walsh " " There — there," broke in Dunn, impatiently ; "you don't suppose that I have time or patience to throw away on these histories." " What answer shall I give him, then ?" asked Hankes. " Tell him — explain to him that the exigencies of party No, that won't do. Send down Harte to conduct his election, let him be returned for the borough, and tell Joe Harte to take care to provide a case that will unseat him on a petition ; before the petition comes on, we shall have the sale completed. The Colonel shall be taught that our tactics are somewhat sharper than his own." Hankes smiled approvingly at this stratagem of his chief, and really for the moment felt proud of serving such a leader. Once more, however, did he turn to his dreary note-book and its inexorable bead- roll of difficulties ; but Dunn no longer heard him, for he was deep in his private correspondence, tearing open and reading letter after letter with impatient haste. " What of the Crimea — what did you say, there ?" cried Dunn, stopping suddenly, and catching at the sound of that one word. DAVENPOET DUNN. 311 " That report of the Morning Post would require a prompt contra- diction." " What report ?" asked Dunn, quickly. " Here's the paragraph." And the other read from a newspaper before him : " ' Our readers, we feel assured, will learn with satisfac- tion that the Government is at this moment in negotiation for the services of Mr. Davenport Dunn in the Crimea. To any one who has followed the sad story of our Commissariat blunders and short- comings, the employment of this — the first administrative mind of our day — will be matter for just gratification. We have only to turn our eyes to the sister country, and see what success has attended his great exertions there, to anticipate what will follow his labours in the still more rugged field of the Crimea.' " This is from the 'Examiner : ' We are sorry to hear, and upon the authority that assumes to be indisputable, that a grave difficulty has suspended, for the time at least, the negotiation between the Go- vernment and Mr. Davenport Dunn. The insistance on the part of that gentleman of such a recognition for his services as no Adminis- tration could dare to promise, being the obstacle.' " Pwneh also has his say : ' Mr. Davenport Dunn's scheme is now before the Cabinet. It resolves itself into this : The Anglo-French alliance to be conducted on the principles of a Limited Liability Com- pany. For preference shares, address Count Morny, in Paris, or Dowb, at Balaklava.' " So much for official secrecy and discretion. This morning brings me the offer from the Minister of this appointment, and here is the whole press of England speculating, criticising, and ridiculing it, forty-eight hours before the proposal is made me ! What says the great leading journal ?" added he, opening a broad sheet before him. " Very brief, and very vague," muttered he. " ' No one knows better than the accomplished individual alluded to, how little the highest honours in the power of the Crown to bestow could add to the effi- ciency of that zeal, or the purpose of that guidance he has so strenu- ously and successfully devoted to the advancement of his country.' Psha !" cried he, angrily, as he threw down the paper, and walked to the window. Hankes proceeded to read aloud one of those glowing panegyrics certain popular journals loved to indulge in, on the superior virtue, capacity, and attainments of the middle classes. " Of these," said the: writer, " Mr. Dunn is a good specimen. Sprung from what may be called the very humblest rank " 312 DAVENPOET DUNN. " "Who writes that ? What paper is it ?" " The Daily Tidings." " You affect to know all these fellows of the press. It is your pride to have been their associate and boon companion. I charge you, then, no matter for the means or the cost, get that man dis- charged ; follow him up, too ; have an eye upon him wherever he goes, and wherever he obtains employment. He shall learn that a hungry stomach is a sorry recompense for the pleasure of pointing a para- graph. Let me see that you make a note of this, Mr. Hankes, and that you execute it also." It was something so new for Hankes to see Dunn manifest any, the slightest, emotion on the score of the press, whether its comments took the shape of praise or blame, that he actually stared at him with a sort of incredulous astonishment. " If I were born a Frenchman, an Italian, or even a German," said Dunn, with a savage energy of voice, " should I be taunted in the midst of my labours that my origin was plebeian ? would the society in which I move be reminded that they accept me on sufferance ? would the cheer that greeted my success be mingled with the cry, * Remember whence you came ?' I tell you, Sir" — and here he spoke, with the thickened utterance of intense passion — " I tell you, Sir, that with all the boasted liberty of our institutions, we cultivate a social slavery in these islands, to which the life of the negro is free- dom in comparison !" A sharp tap at the door interrupted him, and he cried, " Come in." It was a servant to say dinner was on the table, and his Lordship was waiting. " Please to say I am indisposed — a severe headache. I hope his Lordship will excuse my not appearing to-day," said he, with evident confusion ; and then, when the servant withdrew, added, " Tou may go down to the inn. I suppose there is one in the village. I shall want horses to-morrow, and relays ready on the road to Killarney. Give the orders, and if anything else occurs to my recollection, I'll send you word in the evening." Whether it was that Mr. Hankes had been speculating on the pos- sible chances of dining with "my Lord" himself, or that the pros- pect of the inn at Glengariff was little to his taste, but he assuredly gathered up his papers in a mood that indicated no peculiar satisfac- tion, and withdrew without a word. A second message now came to inquire what Mr. Dunn would like to take for his dinner, and conveying Lord Glengariff's regrets for his indisposition. DAYENPOKT DUNN. 313 " A little soup— some fish, if there be any— nothing else," said Dunn, while he opened his writing-desk and prepared for work. Not noticing the interruption of the servant as he laid the table, he wrote away rapidly ; at last he arose, and having eaten a few mouthfuls, re- seated himself at his desk. His letter was to the Minister, in answer to the offer of that morning's post. There was a degree of dexterity in the way that he conveyed his refusal, accompanying it by certain suggestive hints, vague and shadowy of course, of what the services of such a man as himself might possibly accomplish, so as to indicate how great was the loss to the State by not being fortunate enough to secure such high acquirements. The whole wound up with a half ambiguous regret that, while the Ministry should accept newspaper dictation for their appointments, they could not also perceive that popular will Bhould be consulted in the rewards extended to those who deserted their private and personal objects to devote their ener- gies to the cause of the empire. " Whenever such a Government shall arise," wrote he, " the Minis- try will find few refusals to the offers of employment, and men will alike consult their patriotism and their self-esteem in taking office under the Crown ; nor will there be found, in the record of replies to a Ministerial proffer, one such letter as now bears the signature of your Lordship's " Very devoted, and very obedient servant, "Dayenpobt Dunn." This history does not profess to say how Mr. Dunn's apology was received by his noble host. Perhaps, however, we are not unwar- ranted in supposing that Lord Glengariff's temper was sorely and severely tested ; one thing is certain, the dinner passed off with scarcely a word uttered at the table, and a perfect stillness prevailed through- out the cottage. After some hours of hard labour, Dunn opened his window to enjoy the fresh air of the night, tempered slightly as it was with a gentle sea breeze. If our western moonlights have not the silver lustre of Greece, of which old Homer himself sings, they have, in compensation, a mellow radiance of wondrous softness and beauty. Objects are less sharply defined and picked out, it is true, but the picture gains in warmth of colour, and those blended effects where light and shadow alternate. The influences of Nature — the calm, still moonlight — the measured march of the long, sweeping waves upon the strand — those brilliant stars, " so still above, so restless in the water" — have a mar- 314 DAVENPOBT DVHTS. vellous power oyer the hard-worked men of the world. They are amidst the few appeals to the heart which they can neither spurn nor reject. Half hidden by the trees, but still visible from where he sat, Dunn could mark the little window of his humble bedroom twenty years ago ! Ay ! there was the little den to which he crept at night, his heart full of many a sorrow ; the " proud man's contumely" had eaten deep into him, and each day brought some new grievance, some new trial to be endured, while the sight of her he loved — that young and haughty girl — goaded him almost to madness. One after another came all the little incidents of that long-for- gotten time crowding to his memory, and now he bethought him how noiselessly he used to glide down those stairs, and stealing into the wood, meet her in her morning's walk, and how, as with uncovered head, he bowed to her, she would bestow upon him one of her own half saucy smiles — more mockery than kindness. He called to mind the day, too, he had climbed the mountain to gather a bouquet of the purple heath— she said she liked it — and how, after a great effort of courage, he ventured to offer it to her. She took it half laughingly from his hand, and then turning to her pet goat beside her, gave it him to eat. He could have shot himself that morning, and yet there he was now, to smile over the incident ! As he sat, the sounds of music floated up from the open window of the room beneath. It was the piano, the same he used to hear long ago, when the Poet himself of the Melodies came down to pass a few days at the Hermitage. A low, soft voice was now singing, and as he bent down he could hear the words of poor Griffin's beautiful song: " A place in thy memory, dearest, Is all that I claim ; To pause and look back as thou nearest The sound of my name." "What a strange thrill did the words send through him ! They came, as it were, to fill up the whole story of the past, embodying the unspoken prayer his love-sick heart once was filled with. For that " smile and kind word when we meet," had he once pined and longed, and where was the spirit now that had once so yearned for love ? A cold shudder passed over him, and he felt ill. He sat for a long while so deep in reflection, that he did not notice the music had ceased, and now all was Btill and silent around. From the balcony outside his window a little winding stair led down to the lawn beneath, and DAVENPOBT DTTtflT. 315 down this he bow took his way, resolving to stroll for half an hour or so before bedtime. "Walking carelessly along, he at last found himself on the banks of the river, close to the spot where he had met Miss Kellett that same morning. How glad he would have been to find her there again ! That long morning's ramble had filled him with many a hopeful thought — he knew, with the instinct that in such men as himself rarely deceives — that he had inspired her with a sort of interest in him, and it warmed his self-esteem to think that he could be valued for something besides " success." The flutter of a white dress cross- ing the little rustic bridge caught his eye at this moment, and he hurried along the path. He soon gained sufficiently upon the retiring figure to see it was a lady. She was strolling quietly along, stopping at times to catch the effects of the moonlight on the land- scape. Dunn walked so as to make his footsteps heard approaching, and she turned suddenly and exclaimed, " Oh, Mr. Dunn, who would have thought to see you here ?" " A question I [might almost have the hardihood to retort, Lady Augusta," said he, completely taken by surprise. " As for me," said she, carelessly, " it is my usual walk every even- ing. I stroll down to the shore round by that rocky headland, and rarely return before midnight; but you," added she, throwing a livelier interest into her tone, "they said you were poorly, and so overwhelmed with business it was hopeless to expect to see you." " "Work follows such men as myself like a destiny," said he, sigh- ing; "and as the gambler goes on to wager stake after stake on fortune, so do we hazard leisure, taste, happiness, all, to gain 1 know not what in the end." "Tour simile points to the losing gamester," said she, quickly; " but he who has won, and won largely, may surely quit the table when he pleases." "It is true," said he, after a pause — "it is true, I have had luck with me. The very trees under whose branches we are walking could they but speak — might bear witness to a time when I strolled here as poor and as hopeless as the meanest outcast that walks the high road. I had not one living soul to say, ' Be of good cheer, your time will come yet.' My case had even more than the ordinary obstacles to success ; for fate had placed me where every day every hour of my life, should show me the disparity between myself' and those high-born great to whose station I aspired. If you only knew, Lady Augusta," added he, in a tone tremulous with emotion, 316 DATENPOET DtTNIT. " what store I laid on any passing kindness — the simplest word, the merest look — how even a gesture or a glance lighted hope within my heart, or made.it cold and dreary' within < mey 'yoii'di wonder that a creature such as this could nerve itself to.the stern work of .life."... : "I-was but a child ! at the- time you speak. of," said she,, looking down .bashfully ; '.' but I remember.you perfectly." "Indeed!" said he; with an accent 'that implied pleasure. ■■ ":So well," continued she;: "that there is not a spot in the wood: where we /used 'to take', our lesson-hooks an summer, but lives stiH. associated in my mind with.thase, hours; so happy they were !" ' "I. always feared that I had left- very different memories behind me: here," said he, in alow voice. . ' ■' : '•'•.. , "You were unjust, then," said she, m a tone still lower — '(unjust to yourself, and to. us.''. •>/.■. . • , They walked on without speaking, a strange mysterious conscious- ness that' each was'in the other's' thoughts- standing in place of con- verse between, them. At length, stopping suddenly 'in front; of a- little rocky cavern, over which aquatic plants' were drooped, :she said,- "Do. you remember calling that . ' Calypso's grotto ?' • It bears no other name still." i "I remember more^" saidhe ; and then, stopped in. some confusion. ■ ".Some girlish folly of mine, perhaps," broke : she in, hurriedly ; ". but, . once for all, let me ask forgiveness for many a . thoughtless word, .-many a childish wrong. You, who; know all tempers and moo'ds; of men as few know' them, can well' make ' allowances for, natures , spoiled as ours were — pampered and flattered by those about' us, living in a little world of. our own here; -And yet; do- not think , me silly when I own'that T would it-were .all back again. The childhood and the lessons, ay, the dreary! Telemachus, that' gave me .many a headache, and 'the -tiresome hours at the piano, ahd.-ithe: rest of.it." She glanced a. covert/; glartce.; at Dunn, and saw that his features were a shade darker and gloomier than before'; "Mind," said she,'quickly,;"I-don'tas'k you'tO' - /0t»;iif this wish.: You :haye lived .to' achieve great successes — to .he courted,- and >s6ught- after, and caressed.. I don't expect you. to, care to livei over again' hours which perhaps you look back to with a sort -of horror." • ■ -.- , ." I dare not well tell you. how I lookback to them," said he, in a half irresolute manner. ■ •-,:-.- ■'■■> Had there been any to mark it, he would have seen that her cheek flushed and her dark eyes grew darker as he spoke these words. She was far too skilful a tactician to disturb, even by a syllable, the (jtz/Vy/uH' 1 - 1 L y^olur DAVESTOBT DUNN. 317 thoughts she knew his words indicated; and again they sauntered along in silence, till they found themselves standing on the shore of the sea. " How is it that the sea, like the sky, seems ever to inspire the wish that says, ' What lies beyond that?' " said Dunn, dreamily. " It comes of that longing, perhaps, for some imaginary existence out of the life of daily care and struggle " " I believe so," said he, interrupting. " One is so apt to forget that another horizon is sure to rise to view — another bourne to be passed!" Then suddenly, as if with a rapid change of thought, he said, " "What a charming spot this is to pass one's days in — so calm, so peaceful, so undisturbed !" " I love it !" said she, in alow, murmuring voice, as though speaking to herself. " And I could love it too," said he, ardently, " if fortune would but leave me to a life of repose and quiet." " It is so strange to hear men like yourself — men who in a mea- sure make their own fate — always accuse Destiny. "Who is there, let me ask," said she, with a boldness the stronger that she saw an in- fluence followed her words — " who is there who could with more of graceful pride retire from the busy cares of life than he who has worked so long, so successfully, for his fellow-men ? Who is there who, having achieved fortune, friends, station Why do you shake your head?" cried she, suddenly. "You estimate my position too flatteringly, Lady Augusta," said he, slowly, and like one labouring with some painful reflection. " Of fortune, if that mean wealth, I have more than I need. Friends — what the world calls such — I suppose I may safely say I possess my share of. But as to station, by which I would imply the rank that stamps a certain grade in society, and carries with it a pres- tige " " It is your own whenever you care to demand it," broke she in. " It is not when the soldier mounts the breach that his country showers its honours on him — it is when, victory achieved, he comes back great and triumphant. Tou have but to declare that your labours are completed, your campaign finished, to meet any, the proudest, recognition your services could claim. Tou know my father," said she, suddenly changing her voice to a tone at once con- fidential and intimate — " you know how instinctively, as it were, he surrounds himself with all the prejudices of his order. Well, even he, as late as last night, said to me, ' Dunn ought to be one of us Augusta. We want men of his stamp. The lawyers overbear us just 318 DAVENPOBT DTJKN. now. It is men of wider sympathies, less technical, less narrowed by a calling, that we need. He ought to be one of us.' Knowing what a great admission that was for one like Mm, I ventured to ask how this was to be accomplished. Ministers are often the last to ratify the judgment the public has pronounced." " "Well, and what said he to that ?" asked Dunn, eagerly. " ' Let him only open his mind to me, Augusta,' said he. ' If he but have the will, I promise to show him the way.' " Dunn uttered no reply, but with bent-down head walked along, deep in thought. " May I ask you to lend me your arm, Mr. Dunn ?" said Lady Augusta, in her gentlest of voices ; and Dunn's heart beat with a strange, proud significance as he gave it. They spoke but little as they returned to the cottage. CHAPTER XXXIX. "A LETTER TO JACK." Lotra after the other inhabitants of the Hermitage were fast locked in sleep, Sybella Kellett sat at her writing-desk. It was the time — the only time — she called her own, and she was devoting it to a letter to her brother. Mr. Dunn had told her on that morning that an opportunity offered to send anything she might have for him, and she had arranged a little packet — some few things, mostly worked bvjher own hands — for the poor soldier in the Crimea. As one by one she placed the humble articles in the box, her tears fell upon them — tears half pleasure, and half sorrow — for she thought how " poor dear Jack" would feel as each new object came before him, reminding him of some thoughtful care, some anticipation of this or that casualty ; and when at last all seemed packed and nothing for- gotten, she arose and crossed the room towards a little shelf, from which she took a small volume, and, kissing it twice fervently, laid it in the box. This done, she knelt down, and, with her head between her hands, close pressed and hidden, prayed long and fervently. If her features wore a look of sadness as she arose, it was of sadness not without hope ; indeed, her face was like one of those fair Madonnas DATENPOET DUNK. 319 which Eaphael has left us— faces where trustfulness is more emi- nently the characteristic than any other quality. Her long letter was nearly completed, and she sat down to add the last lines to it. It had grown into a sort of journal of her daily life, its cares and occupations, and she was half shocked at the length to which it extended. " I am not," wrote she, " so unreason- able as to ask you to write as I have done, but it would be an un- speakable pleasure if you would let me give the public some short extracts from the letters you send me, they are so unlike those our papers teem with. The tone of complaint is, I know, the popular one. Some clever correspondents have struck the key-note with success, and the public only listen with eagerness where the tale is of Bufferings which might have been spared, and hardships that need not have been borne. But you, dear Jack, have taken another view of events, and one which, I own, pleases me infinitely more. Tou say truly, besides, that these narratives, interesting as no doubt they are to all at home here, exercise a baneful influence on the military spirit of our army. Men grow to care too much for newspaper distinction, too little for that noble esprit de camaraderie which is the finest en- thusiasm of the service. I could not help feeling, as if I heard your voice as I read, ' I wish they wouldn't go on telling us about muddy roads, raw coffee, wet canvas, and short rations ; we don't talk of these things so much amongst ourselves ; we came out here to thrash the Russians, and none of us ever dreamed it was to be done without rough usage.' What you add about the evil effects of the soldier appealing to the civilian public for any redress of his grievances, real or imaginary, is perfectly correct. It is a great mistake. " Tou must forgive my having shown your last letter to Mr. Daven- port Dunn, who cordially joins me in desiring that you will let me send it to the papers. He remarks truly, that the Irish temperament of making the ludicrous repay the disagreeable is wanting in all this controversy, and that the public mind would experience a great relief if one writer would come forth to show that the bivouac fire is not wanting in pleasant stories, nor even the wet night in the trenches without its burst of light-hearted gaiety. " Mr. Dunn fully approves of your determination not to ' purchase.' It would be too hard if you could not obtain your promotion from the ranks after such services as yours ; so he says, and so, I suppose, I ought to concur with him ; but as this seven hundred pounds lies sleeping at the banker's while your hard life goes on, I own I half doubt if he be right. I say this to show you, once for all, that I will accept nothing of it. I am provided for amply, and I meet with a 320 DAVENPOET DTO1T. kindness and consideration for which I was quite unprepared. Of course, I endeavour to make my services requite this treatment, and do my best to merit the good-will shown me. " I often wonder, dear Jack, when we are to meet, and where. Two more isolated creatures there can scarcely be on earth than our- selves, and we ought, at least, to cling to each other. Not but I feel that, in thus struggling alone with fortune, we are storing up know- ledge of ourselves, and experiences of life that will serve us hereafter. When I read in your letters how by many a little trait of character you can endear yourself to your poor comrades, softening the hard- ship of their lot by charms and graces acquired in another sphere from theirs, I feel doubly strong in going forth amongst the poor families of our neighbourhood, and doubly hopeful that even I may carry my share of comfort to some poorer and more neglected. " The last object I have placed in your box, dearest Jack — it will be the first to reach your hands — is my prayer-book. Tou have often held it with me, long, long ago ! Oh, if I dared to wish, it would be for that time again when we were children, with one heart between us. Let us pray, my dear brother, that we may live to meet and be happy as we then were ; but if that is not to be — if one be destined to remain alone a wanderer here — pray, my dearest brother, that the lot fall not to me, who am weak-hearted and dependent. " The day is already beginning to break, and I must close this. My heartfelt prayer and blessings go with it over the seas. Again and again, G-od bless you." Why was it that still she could not seal that letter, but sat gazing sadly on it, while at times she turned to the open pages of poor Jack's last epistle to her ? DAYENPOttT DUNK. 321 CHAPTEE XL. SCHEMES AND PROJECTS. The post-horses ordered for Mr. Dunn's carriage arrived duly at break of day ; but from some change of purpose, of whose motive this veracious history can offer no explanation, that gentleman did not take his departure, but merely despatched a messenger to desire Mr. Hankes would come over to the Hermitage. " I shall remain here to-day, Hankes," said he, carelessly, " and not impossibly to-morrow also. There's something in the air here suits me, and I have not felt quite well latterly." Mr. Hankes bowed, but not even his long-practised reserve could conceal the surprise he felt at this allusion to health or well-being. Positive illness he could understand — a fever or a broken' leg were intelligible ills — but the slighter casualties of passing indispositions were weaknesses that he could not imagine a business mind could descend to : no more than he could fancy a man's being turned from pursuing his course because some one had accidentally jostled him in the streets. Dunn was too acute a reader of men's thoughts not to perceive the impression his words had produced, but, with the indifference he ever bestowed upon inferiors, he went on : " Forward my letters here till you hear from me — there's nothing- so very pressing at this moment that cannot wait my return to town. Stay — I was to have had a dinner on Saturday ; you'll have to put them off. Clowes will Bhow you the list ; and let some of the evening- papers mention my being unavoidably detained in the south — say nothing about indisposition." " Of course not, Sir," said Hankes, quite shocked at such an in- discretion being deemed possible. "And why ' of course,' Mr. Hankes?" said Dunn, slowly. "I never knew it was amongst the prerogatives of active minds to be exempt from ailment." " A bad thing to speak about, Sir — a very bad thing indeed," said Hankes, solemnly. " Tou constantly hear people remark, ' He was never the Bame man since that last attack.' " " Psha !" said Dunn, contemptuously. T 322 DATENPOET DTTNN. " I assure you, Sir, I speak the sense of the community. The old adage says, ' Two removes are as bad as a fire,' and in the same spirit I would say, ' Two gouty seizures are equal to a retirement.' '* "Absurdity!" said Dunn, angrily. "I never have acknowledged — I never will acknowledge — any such accountability to the world." " They bring us ' to book' whether we will or not," said Hankes, sturdily. Dunn started at the words, and turned away to hide his face ; and well was it he did so, for it was pale as ashes, even to the lips, which were actually livid. " Tou may expect me by Sunday morning, Hankes" — he spoke without turning round — " and let me have the balance-sheet of the Ossory Bank to look over. We must make no more advances to the gentry down there ; we must restrict our discounts." " Impossible, Sir, impossible ! There must be no discontent — for the present at least," said Hankes, and his voice sank to a whisper. Dunn wheeled round till he stood full before him, and thus they remained for several seconds, each staring steadfastly at the other. " Tou don't mean to say, Hankes ?" He stopped. " I do, Sir," said the other, slowly, " and I say it advisedly," " Then there must be some gross mismanagement, Sir," said Dunn, haughtily. " This must be looked to ! Except that loan of forty- seven thousand pounds to Lord Lackington, secured by mortgage on the estate it went to purchase, with what has this Bank supplied us ?" " Remember, Sir," whispered Hankes, cautiously glancing around the room as he spoke, " the loan to the Yiscount was advanced by ourselves at six per cent., and the estate was bought in under your own name ; so that, in fact, it is to us the Bank have to look as their security." " And am I not sufficient for such an amount, Mr. Hankes ?" said he, sneeringly. " I trust you are, Sir, and, for ten times the sum. Time is every- thing in these affairs. The ship that would float over the bar at high water, would stick fast at half-flood." " The ' Time' I am anxious for is a very different one," said Dunn, reflectively, " It is the time when I shall no longer be harassed with these anxieties. Life is not worth the name when it excludes the thought of all enjoyment." " Business is business, Sir," said Mir. Hankes, with all the so- lemnity with which such men deliver platitudes as wisdom. " Call it slavery, and you'll be nearer the mark," broke in Dunn. " For what or for whom, let me ask you, do I undergo all this la- DAVENPOBT DTJNJT. OZd borioustoil ? For a world that, at the very first check or stumble, will overwhelm me with slanders. Let me but afford them a pretext, and they will debit me with every disaster their own recklessness has caused, and forget to credit me with all the blessings my wearisome life has conferred 1 upon them." " The way of the world, Sir," sighed Hankes, with the same stereo- typed philosophy. "I know well," continued Dunn, not heeding the other's common- place, " that there are men who would utilise the station which I have acquired ; they'd soon convert into sterling capital the unprofitable gains that I am content with. They'd be Cabinet Ministers — Peers — Ambassadors — Colonial Governors. It's only men like myself work without wages." " ' The labourer is worthy of his hire,' says the old proverb." Mr. Hankes was not aware of the authority, but quoted what he be- lieved a popular saying. " Others there are," continued Dunn, still deep in his own thoughts, " that would consult their own ease, and, throwing off this drudgery, devote what remained to them of life to the calm enjoyments of a home." Mr. Hankes was disposed to add, " Home, sweet home," but he coughed down the impulse, and was silent. Dunn walked the room with his arms crossed on his breast and his head bent down, deep in his own reflections, while his lips moved, as if speaking to himself. Meanwhile, Mr. Hankes busied himself gather- ing together his papers, preparatory to departure. " They've taken that fellow Eedlines. I suppose you've heard it?" said he, still sorting and arranging the letters. " No," said Dunn, stopping suddenly in his walk ; " where was he apprehended ?" " In Liverpool. He was to have sailed in the Persia, and had bis place taken as a German watchmaker going to Boston." " What was it he did ? I forget," said Dunn, carelessly. " He did, as one may say, a little of everything ; issued false scrip on the Great Coast Bailway, sold and pocketed the price of some thirty thousand pounds' worth of their plant, mortgaged their secu- rities, and cooked their annual reports so cleverly, that for four years nobody had the slightest suspicion of any mischief." "What was it attracted the first attention to these frauds, Hankes?" said Dunn, apparently curious to hear an interesting story. " The merest accident in the world. He had sent a few lines to x2 324 DATENFOET DUNN. the Duke of "Wycombe to inquire the character and capacity of a French cook. Pollard, the Duke's man of business, happened to be in the room when the note came, and his Grace begged he would answer it for him. Pollard, as you are aware, is Chairman of the Coast Line, and when he saw the name ' Lionel Eedlines,' he was off in a jifiy to the Board-room with the news." " One would have thought a little foresight might have saved him from such a stupid mistake as this," said Dunn, gravely. " A mode of living so disproportioned to his well-known means must inevitably have elicited remark." " At any other moment, so it would," said Hankes ; " but we live in a gambling age, and no one can say where, when, and how any one wins a large stake. Look at those fellows in Prance, for instance. There are men there who, six months ago, couldn't get cash for a bill of a thousand francs who are now owners of millions upon millions. There is no such thing as rich or poor now, for you may be either, or both, within any twenty-four hours." "They'll transport this man Eedlines, I suppose?" said Dunn, after a pause. " That they will ; but my own opinion is, they'd rather he had got clean away ; there's always something dark in these affairs. Take my word for it, you'll see that the others — the men on the Board — are not clear of it. Shares were declining in that line — steadily declining — this many a day, in face of an eight per cent, dividend." "And now he will be transported!" broke in Dunn, from the depth of a reverie. " Many don't mind it !" said Hankes. " How do you mean — not mind it ?" asked Dunn, angrily. " Is deportation to a penal colony no punishment ?" " I won't go that far," replied Hankes ; " but when a man has left things comfortable at home, it's not the bad thing people generally imagine." "I don't understand you," said Dunn, shortly. " "Well, take Sir John Chesham's case as an instance. He was the founder of that great swindle, the Greenwich Boyal Bank. "When they transported him, Lady Chesham went out with the next mail- packet, took a handsome house and furnished it, and then, waiting till Sir John got his ticket-of-leave, she hired him as a footman. And what's more, they that used to quarrel all day long at home here, are now perfect turtle-doves. To be sure, there is something in the fact that she has to send in a quarterly report of his conduct ; and it's a BAVENPOBT DTJNN. 325 fine thing to be able to threaten short rations and wool-carding to a refractory husband." The jocose tone assumed by Mr.'.Hankes in this remark met no re- sponse from Davenport Dunn, who only looked graver and more thoughtful. " How strange !" muttered he to himself. " In morals as in medi- cine, it is the amount of the dose decides whether the remedy be curative or poisonous." Then, with a quick start round, he said, " Hankes, do you remember that terrific accident which occurred a few years ago in France — at Angers, I think the place was called ? A regiment in marching order had to cross a suspension-bridge, and coming on with the measured tramp of the march, the united force was too much for the strength of the' structure ; the iron beams gave way, and all were precipitated into the stream below. This is an apt illustration of what we call Credit. It will bear, and with success, considerable pressure if it be irregular, dropping, and incidental. Let the forces, however, be at once consentaneous and united — let the men keep step — and down comes the bridge ! Ah, Hankes, am I not right ?" " I believe you are, Sir," said Hankes, who was not quite certain that he comprehended the illustration. " His Lordship is waiting breakfast, Sir," said a smartly-dressed footman at the door. " I will be down in a moment. I believe, Hankes, we have not forgotten anything ? The Cloyne and Carrick Company had better be wound up ; and that waste-land project — let me have the papers to look over. Tou think we ought to discount those bills of Bar- rington's ?" " I'm sure of it, Sir. The people at the Epyal Bank would take them to-morrow." " The credit of the Bank must be upheld, Hankes. The libellous articles of those newspapers are doing us great damage ; timid share- holders assail us with letters, and some have actually demanded back their deposits. I have it, Hankes !" cried he, as a sudden thought struck him — " I have it ! Take a special train at once for town, and fetch me the balance-sheet and the list of all convertible securities. Tou can be back here — let us see — by to-morrow at noon, or at latest, to-morrow evening. By that time I shall have matured my plan." "I should like to hear some hint of what you intend," said Hankes. 826 BAVENPOET DUNN. " You shall know all to-morrow," said he, as he nodded a good-by , and descended to the breakfast-room. He turned short, however, at the foot of the Stairs, and returned to his chamber, where Hankes was still packing up his papers. " On second thoughts, Hankes, I believe I had better tell you now," said he. " Sit down." And they both sat down at the table, and never moved from it for an hour. Twice— even thrice— there came messages from below, re- questing Mr. Dunn's presence at the breakfast-fcaMe, but a hurried " Yes, immediately," was his reply, and he came not. At last they rose; Hankes the first, saying, as be looked at his Watch, " I shall just be in time. It is a great idea, Sir— a very greal idea indeed, and does you infinite credit." . "It ought to have success, Hankes," said he, calmly. " Ought, Sir ! It is success. It is as fine a piece of tactics as I ever heard of. Trust me to carry it out, that's all." " Bemember, Hankes, time is everything. Good-by !" CHAPTER XLI. "a eonSiRf WALK." "What a charming day was that at the Hermitage! every one pleased, happy, and good-humoured ! With a frankness that gave universal satisfaction, Mr. Dunn declared he could not tear himself away. Engagements the most pressing, business appointments of the deepest moment, awaited him on every side, but, " No matter what it cost," said he, "I will have my holiday !" Eew flatteries are more successful than those little appeals to the charms and fascinations of a quiet home circle j and when some hard-worked man of the world, some eminent leader at the Bar, or some much-sought Physician, condescends to tell us that the world of clients must wait while he lingers in our society, the assurance never fails to be pleas- ing. It is, indeed, complimentary to feel that we are, in all the easy indolence of leisure, enjoying the hours of one whose minutes are valued as guineas ; our own value insensibly rises at the thought, and we associate ourselves in our estimate of the great man. "When Mr. Davenport Dunn had made this graceful declaration, he added another, not less gratifying, that he was completely at his Lordship's BATENPOET DUNN. S27 and Lady Augusta's orders, as regarded the great project on which they desired to have his opinion. " The best way is to come down and see the spot yourself, Dunn. "We'll walk over there together, and Augusta will acquaint you. with our notions as we go along." " I ought to mention," said Dunn, "that yesterday, by the merest chance, I had the opportunity of looking over a little sketch of your project." " Oh, Miss Kellett's!" broke in Lady Augusta, colouring slightly. " It is very clever, very prettily written, but scarcely practical, scarcely business-like enough for a prosaic person like myself. A question of this kind is a great financial problem, not a philanthropic experiment. Don't you agree with me ?" " Perfectly," said he, bowing. " And its merits are to be tested by figures, and not by Utopian (beams of felicity. Don't you think so ?" He bowed again, and smiled approvingly. "I am aware," said she, in a sort of half confusion, " what rashness it would be in me to say this to any one less largely- minded than your- self ; how I should expose myself to the censure of being narrow- hearted, and worldly, and bo forth ; but I am not afraid of such judg- ments from you." " Nor have you need to dread them," said be, in a voice a little above a whisper. " Toung ladies, like Miss Kellett, are often possessed by the am- bition — a very laudable sentiment, no doubt — of distinguishing them- selves by these opinions. It is, as it were, a ' trick of the time' we live in, and, with those who do not move ' in society,' has its success too." The peculiar intonation of that one word " society" gave the whole point and direction of this speech. There was in it that which seemed to say, " This is the real tribunal ! Here is the one true court where claims are recognised and shams nonsuited." Nor was it lost upon Mr. Davenport Dunn. More than once — ay, many a time before — had he been struck by the reference to that Star Chamber of the well-bred world. He had even beard a noble Lord on the Treasury benches sneer down a sturdy champion of Man- chesterism, by suggesting that in a certain circle, where the honour- able gentleman never came, very different opinions prevailed from those announced by him. "While Dunn was yet pondering over this mystic word, Lord Glengariff came to say that, as Miss Kellett required his presence 328 DAVENPORT DOT1T. to look over some papers in the library, they might stroll slowly along till he overtook them. As they sauntered along under the heavy shade of the great beech- trees, the sun streaking at intervals the velvety sward beneath their feet, while the odour of the fresh hay was wafted by on a faint light breeze, Dunn was unconsciously brought back in memory to the "long, long ago," when he walked the self-same spot in a gloom only short of despair. Who could have predicted the day when he should stroll there, with her at his side — her arm within his own — her voice appealing to him in tones of confidence and friendship ? His great ambitions had grown with his successes, and as he rose higher and higher, his aims continued to mount upwards, but here was a senti- ment that dated from the time of his obscurity, here, a day-dream that had filled his imagination when from imagination alone could be derived the luxury of triumph, and now it was realised, and now "Who is to say what strange wild conflict went on within that heart where worldliness felt its sway for once disputed ? Did there yet linger there in the midst of high ambitions some trait of boyish love, or was it that he felt this hour to be the crowning triumph of his long life of toil ? " If I were not half ashamed to disturb your reverie," said Lady Augusta, smiling, " I'd tell you to look at that view yonder. See where the coast stretches along there, broken by cliff and headland, with those rocky islands breaking the calm sea-line, and say if you saw anything finer in your travels abroad?" " Was I in a reverie ? have I been dreaming ?" cried he, suddenly, not regarding the scene, but turning his eyes fully upon herself. " And yet you'd forgive me were I to confess to you of what it was I was thinking." " Then tell it directly, for I own your silence piqued me, and I stopped speaking when I perceived I was not listened to." " Perhaps I am too confident when I say you would forgive me ?" " You have it in your power to learn, at all events," said she, laughingly. " But not to recal my words if they should have been uttered rashly," said he, slowly. " Shall I tell you a great fault you have — perhaps your greatest ?" asked she, quickly. " Do, I entreat of you." " And you pledge yourself to take my candour well, and bear me no malice afterwards ?" " I promise," said he. davenport irons'. 329 " It is a coldness — a reserve almost amounting to distrust, which seems actually to dominate in your temper. Be frank with me, now, and say fairly, was not this long alley reviving all the thoughts of long ago, and were you not summing up the fifty-one little grudges you had against that poor silly child who used to torment and fret you 5 and instead of honestly owning all this, you fell back upon that stern dignity of manner I have just complained of? Besides," added she, as though hurried away by some strong impulse, " if it would quiet your spirit to know you were avenged, you may feel satisfied." " As how ?" asked he, eagerly, and not comprehending to what she pointed. " Simply thus," resumed she. " As I continued to mark and read of your great career in life, the marvellous successes which met you in each new enterprise, how with advancing fortune you ever showed yourself equal to the demand made upon your genius, I thought with shame and humiliation over even my childish follies, how often I must have grieved — have hurt you ! Over and over have I said, ' Does he ever remember ? Can he forgive me ?' And yet there was a sense of exquisite pleasure in the midst of all my sorrow as I thought over all these childish vanities, and said to myself, ' This man, whom all are now flattering and fawning upon, was the same I used to irritate with my caprices, and worry with my whims !" " I never dreamed that you remembered me," said he, in a voice tremulous with delight. " Your career made a romance for me," said she, eagerly. " I could repeat many of those vigorous speeches you made — those spirited ad- dresses. One in particular I remember well, it was when refusing the offer of the Athlone burgesses to represent their town; you alluded so happily to the cares which occupied you — less striking than legislative duties, but not less important — or, as you phrased it, yours was like the part of those ' who sound the depth and buoy the course that thundering three-deckers are to follow.' Do youi remember the passage ? And again, that proud humility with which, alluding to the wants of the poor, you said, ' I, who have carried my musket in the ranks of the people!' Let me tell you, Sir," added she, playfully, " these are very haughty avowals after all, and savour just as much of personal pride as the insolent declarations of many a pampered cour- tier!" Dunn's face grew crimson, and his chest swelled with an emotion of intense delight. " Shall I own to you," continued she, still running on with what seemed an irrepressible freedom, " that it appears scarcely real to me 330 DATEKPOET DUSK. to be here talking to you about yourself, and your grand enterprises, and your immense speculations. You have been bo long, to my mind, the great genius of wondrous achievements, that I cannot yet compre- hend the condescension of your strolling along here as if this world could spare you." If Dunn did not speak, it was that his heart was too full for words ; but he pressed the round arm that leaned upon him closer to his side, and felt a thrill of happiness through him. " By the way," said she, after a pause, " I have a favour to ask of you : Papa would be charmed to have a cast of Marochetti's bust of you, and yet does not like to ask for it. May I venture " " Too great an honour to me," muttered Dunn. " "Would you — I mean, would he — accept ?" " Tes, I will, and with gratitude, not but I think the likeness hard and harsh. It is, very probably, what you are to that marvellous world of politicians and financiers you live amongst, but not such as your friends recognise you — what you are to-day, for instance." " And what may that be ?" asked he, playfully. " I was going to say an imprudence, and I only caught myself in time." " Do, then, let me hear it," said he, eagerly, " for I am quite ready to cap it with another." " k Yours be the first, then," said she, laughing. "Is it not cus- tomary to put the amendment before the original motion?" Doth Mr. Dunn and his fair companion were destined to be rescued from the impending indiscretion by the arrival of Lord Grlengarifij who, mounted on his pony, suddenly appeared beside them. " Well, Dunn," cried he, as he came up, " has she made a convert of you ? Are you going to advocate the great project here ?" Dunn looked sideways towards Lady Augusta, who, seeing hk dif- ficulty, at once said, " Indeed, Papa, we never spoke of the scheme. I doubt if either of us as much as remembered there was such a thing." " Well, I'm charmed to find that your society could prove so fas- cinating, Augusta," said Lord Glengariff, with some slight irritation of manner, " but I must ask of Mr. Dunn to bear with me while I descend to the very common-place topic which has such interest for me. The very spot we stand on is admirably suited to take a pano- ramic view of our little bay, the village, and the background. Carry your eyes along towards the rocky promontory on whioh the stone pines are standing, we begin there." Now, most worthy reader, although the noble Lord pledged him- ^1 .1 JJAYEUPOBT DUNS. 331 self to be briefs and' Really meant to keep his word, and although he fancied himself to be graphic — truth is truth — he was lamentably prolii jand confused 'beyond all 'endurance. As for Dunn, he listened with an etsempilary patience ; perhaps his thoughts were rambling away elsewhere — perhaps he was compensated for the weariness by the occasional glances which met him from eyes now downcast — now bent «of tly upon him. Meanwhile, the old Lord floundered on, amidst crescents and bathing. lodges, yaeht stations and fisheries, aiding his memory occasionally with little notes, which, as he contrived to mis- take^ only served to, make the description less intelligible. At length, he had got so far as to conjure up 1 a busy, thriving, well-to-do water- ing-place, sought after by the fashionable world that once had loved Brighton or Dieppe. He had peopled the shore with loungers, and the hotels ~with visitors ; equipages were seen flocking in, and a hissing Steamer in the harbour was already sounding the note of departure for Liverpool or Holyhead, when Dunn, suddenly rousing himself from what might have been a reverie,, said, " And the money, my Lord. The means to do all this?" " The money — the means — we look to you, Dunn, to answer that question. Our scheme is a .great shareholding company of five thousand— no, fifty — nay, I'm wrong. What is it, Augusta ?" " The 'exact amount scarcely signifies much, my Lord. The ex- cellence of the project once proved, money can always be had. What I desired to know was, if you already possessed the confidence e£ some great capitalist .favourable to the undertaking, or is it simply its intrinsic merits which recommend it ?" . "Its own merits, of course," broke in Lord Grlengariff, hastily. " Axe they not sufficient ?" " I am not in a position to affirm or deny that opinion,!' said Dunn, gravely. " Let me see," added he to himself, while he drew a pencil from his pocket, and on the back of a letter proceeded to scratch certain figures. He continued tp calculate thus for some minutes, when at last he said, " If you like to try it, my Lord, with an ad- vance of say twenty thousand pounds, there will be ho great difficulty in raising the money. Once afloat, you will be ia a position to enlist shareholders easily enough."; He spoke with all the cool indif- ference of one discussing the weather. "I must say, Dunn," cried Lord Glengariff, withwarmthj "this is a very noble — a very generous offler. I conclude my personal security — -— " " We can talk over all this at another time, my Lord," broke in Dunn, smiling. " Lady Augusta will leave us if we go into questions 332 DATENPOET DUNN. of bonds and parchments. My first care will be to send you down Mr. Steadman, a very competent person, who will make the necessary surveys ; his report, too, will be important in the share market." " So that the scheme enlists your co-operation, Dunn — so that we have you with us," cried the old Lord, rubbing his hands, " I have no fears as to success." " May we reckon upon so much ?" whispered Lady Augusta, while a long, soft, meaning glance stole from her eyes. Dunn bent his head in assent, while his face grew crimson. " I say, Augusta," whispered Lord Glengariff, " we have made a capital morning's work of it — eh ?" " I hope so, too," said she. And her eyes sparkled with an expres- sion of triumph. " There is only one condition I would bespeak, my Lord. It is this : the money market at this precise moment is unsettled, over- speculation has already created a sort of panic, so that you will kindly give me a little time — very little will do — to arrange the ad- vance. Three weeks ago we were actually glutted with money, and now there are signs of what is called tightness in discounts." "Consult your own convenience in every respect," said the old Lord, courteously. " Nothing would surprise me less than a financial crisis over here," said Dunn, solemnly. " Our people have been rash in their invest- ments latterly, and there is always a retribution upon inordinate gain !" "Whether it was the topic itself warmed him, or the gentle pres- sure of Lady Augusta's arm as in encouragement of his sentiments, but Dunn continued to "improve the occasion" as they strolled along homeward, inveighing in very choice terms against speculative gambling, and deploring the injury done to honest, patient industry by those examples of wealth acquired without toil and accumulated without thrift. He really treated the question well and wisely, and when he passed from the mere financial consideration to the higher one of " morals " and the influence exerted upon national character, he actually grew eloquent. Let us acknowledge that the noble Lord did not participate in all his daughter's admiration of this high-sounding harangue, nor was he without a sort of lurking suspicion that he was listening to a lecture upon his own greed and covetousness ; he, however, contrived to throw in at intervals certain little words of concurrence, and in this way occxipied they arrived at the Hermitage. It is not always that the day which dawns happily continues DAVEHTOBT DTJNN. 333 bright and unclouded to its close ; yet this was such a one. The dinner passed off most agreeably, the evening in the drawing-room was delightful. Lady Augusta sang prettily enough to please even a more critical ear than Mr. Dunn's, and she had a tact, often want- ing in better performers, to select the class of music likely to prove agreeable to her hearers. There is a very considerable number of people who like pictures for the story and music for the sentiment, and for these high art is less required than something which shall appeal to their peculiar taste. But, while we are confessing, let us own, that if Mr. Dunn liked " the Melodies," it assuredly added to their charm to hear them sung by a Peer's daughter ; and as he lay back in his well-cushioned chair, and drank in the sweet sounds, it seemed to him that he was passing a very charming evening. Like many other vulgar men in similar circumstances, he won- dered at the ease and unconstraint he felt in such choice company ! He could not help contrasting the tranquil beatitude of his sensations with what he had fancied must be the coldness and reserve of such society. He was, as he muttered to himself, as much at home as in his own house, and truly, as with one hand in his breast, while with the fingers of the other he beat time — and all falsely — he looked the very ideal of his order. " Confound the fellow !" muttered the old Peer, as he glanced at him over his newspaper, " he is insufferably at his ease amongst us !" And Sybella Kellett, where was she all this time — or have we forgotten her? Poor Sybella! she had been scarcely noticed at dinner, scarcely spoken to in the drawing-room, and she had slipped unperceived away to her own room. They never missed her. 334 DAVETTPOET DtriTK. CHAPTER XIII. "THE GEBM OF A BOLD STROKE," If Mr. Davenport Dunn had passed a day of unusual happiness and ease, the night which followed was destined to be one of intense labour and toil. Scarcely had the quiet of repose settled down upon " the Hermitage," than the quick tramp of horses, urged to their sharpest trot, was heard approaching, and soon after Mr. Hankes descended from his travelling-carriage at the door. Dunn had been standing at his open window gazing into the still obscurity of the night, and wondering at what time he might expect him, when he arrived. " Tou have made haste, Hankes," said he, not wasting a word in salutation. " I scarcely looked to see you before daybreak." " Yes, Sir ; the special train, behaved well, and the posters did their part as creditably. I had about four hours altogether in Dublin, but they were quite sufficient, for everything." " For everything ?" repeated Dunn. " Yes ; you'll find nothing has been forgotten. Before leaving Cork, I telegraphed to Meekins of the Post, and to Browne of the Banner, to meet me on my arrival at Henrietta-street. Strange enough, they both were anxiously waiting for some instructions on the very question at issue. They came armed with piles of provincial papers, all written in the same threatening style. One in particular, the Upper Ossory Beacon, had an article headed, " Who is our Dionysius ?" " Never mind that," broke in Dunn, impatiently. " You explained to them the line to be taken ?" " Fully, Sir. I told them that they were to answer the attacks weakly, feebly, deprecating in general terms the use of personalities, and throwing out little appeals to forbearance, and so on. On the question of the Bank, I said, ' Be somewhat more resolute ; hint that certain aspersions might be deemed actionable ; that wantonly to assail credit is an offence punishable at law ; and then dwell upon the benefits already diffused by these establishments, and implore all who have the interest of Ireland at heart not to suffer a spirit of faction to triumph over their patriotism.' " KAVE1TP0BT BTTNIC 335 " "Will they understand the part ?" asked Dunn, more impatiently than before. " Thoroughly ; Browne, indeed, has a leader already ' set up' " " What do I care for all these ?" broke in Dunn, peevishly. " Surely no man knows better than yourself that these fellows are only the feathers that show where the wind blows; As to any in- fluence they wield over public opinion, you might as well tell me that the man who sweats a guinea can Bway the Stock Exchange." Hankes snook his head dissentingly, but made no reply. " You have brought the Bank accounts and the balance-sheet ?" " Yes, they are all here." " Have you made any rough calculation as to the amount F' He stopped. " Fifty thousand ought to cover it easily — I mean, with what they have themselves in hand. The first day will be a heavy one, but I don't suspect the second will,, particularly when it is known that we are discounting freely as ever." " And now as to the main point ?" said Dunn. "AH right, Sir. Etheridge's securities give us seventeen thou- sand ; we have a balance of above eleven on that account of Lord Lackington ; I drew out the twelve hundred of Kellett's at once ; and several other small sums, which are all ready." " It is a bold stroke !" muttered Dunn, musingly. " None but an original mind could have hit upon it, Sir. I used to think the late Mr. Bobins a very great man, Sir— and he wees a great man — but this is a cut above him." " Let us say so when it has succeeded, Hankes," said Dunn, with a half-smile. As he spoke, he seated himself at the table, and, opening a massive account-book, was soon deep in its details. Hankes took a place beside him, and they both continued to con over the long column of figures together. "We stand in a safer position than I thought, Hankes," said Dunn, leaning back in his chair. " Tes, Sir ; we have been nursing this Ossory Bank for some time. Tou remember, some time ago, saying to me, ' Hankes, put condition on that horse, we'll have to ride him hard before the season is over ?' " "Well, you have done it cleverly, I must say," resumed Dumn. "The concern is almost solvent." "Almost, Sir," echoed Hankes. " What a shake it will give them all, Hankea," said Dunn, glee- 336 DATENPOBT DtTNN. fully, " when it once sets in, as it will and must, powerfully. The Provincial will stand easily enough." "To he sure, Sir." " And the Eoyal also ; but the ' Tyrawley' " " And the ' Pour Counties,' " added Hankes. " Driscoll is ready with four thousand of the notes 'to open the ball,' as he says, and when Terry's name gets abroad it will be worse to them than a placard on the walls." " I shall not be sorry for the * Pour Counties.' It was Mr. Morris, the chairman, had the insolence to allude to me in the House, and ask if it were true that the Ministry had recommended Mr. Daven- port Dunn as a fit object for the favours of the Crown ? That ques- tion, Sir, placed my claim in abeyance ever since. The Minister, pledged solemnly to me, had to rise in his place and say ' No.' Of course he added the stereotyped sarcasm, ' Not, that if such a decision had been come to, need the Cabinet have shrunk from the respon- sibility through any fears of the honourable gentleman's indig- nation.' " ' " Well, Mr. Morris will have to pay. for his joke now," said Hankes. " I'm told his whole estate is liable to the Bank." " Every shilling of it. Driscoll has got me all the details." " Lushington will be the great sufferer by the ' Tyrawley,' " con- tinued Hankes. " Another of them, Hankes — another of them," cried Dunn, rub- bing his hands joyfully. " Tom Lushington — the Honourable Tom, as they call him — blackballed me at ' Brookes's.' They told me his very words : ' It's bad enough to be " Dunned," as we are, out of doors, but let us at least be safe from the infliction at our Clubs.' A sorry jest, but witty enough for those who heard it." " I don't think he has sixpence." " No, Sir ; nor can he remain a Treasury Lord with a fiat of bank- ruptcy against him. So much, then, for Tom Lushington ! I tell you, Hankes," said he, spiritedly, " next week will have its catalogue of shipwrecks. There's a storm about to break that none have yet suspected." " There will be some heavy sufferers," said Hankes, gravely. " No doubt, no doubt," muttered Dunn. " I never heard of a battle without killed and wounded. I tell you, Sir, again," said he, raising his voice, " before the week ends the shore will be strewn with fragments ; we alone will ride through the gale unharmed. It is not fully a month since I showed the Chief Secretary here — ay, and his Excellency also — the insolent but insidious system of attack DAVENPOBT DUNN. 337 the Government journals maintain against me, the half-coverfc in- sinuations, the impertinent queries, pretended inquiries for mere information's sake. Of course, I got for answer the usual cant about ' freedom of the press,' ' liberty of public discussion,' with the accus- tomed assurance that the Government had not, in reality, any recog- nised organ ; and, to wind up, there was the laughing question, ' And what do you care, after all, for these fellows ?' But now I will show that I do care — that I have good and sufficient reason to care — that the calumnies which assail me are directed against my material inte- rests ; that it is not Davenport Dunn is 'in cause,' but all the great enterprises associated with his name ; that it is not an individual, but the industry of a nation is at stake ; and I will say to them, ' Protect me, or ' Tou remember the significant legend inscribed on the cannon of the Irish Yolunteers, ' Independence or ' Take my word for it, I may not speak as loudly as the nine-pounder, but my fire will be to the full as fatal !" Never before had Hankes seen his chief carried away by any sense of personal injury ; he had even remarked, amongst the traits of his great business capacity, that a calm contempt for mere passing opinion was his characteristic, and he was sorely grieved to find that sucli equanimity could be disturbed. With his own especial quickness Dunn saw what was passing in his lieutenant's mind, and he added, hastily : " Not that, of all men, I need care for such assaults ; powerful even to tyranny as the press has become amongst us, there is one thing more powerful still, and that is — Prosperity ! Ay, Sir, there may be cavil and controversy as to your abilities, some may condemn your speech, or carp at your book, they may cry down your statecraft, or deny your diplomacy, but there is a test that all can appreciate, all comprehend, and that is — Success. Have only that, Hankes, and the world is with you." " There's no denying that," said Hankes, solemnly. " It is the gauge of every man," resumed Dunn—" from him that presides over a Railway Board, to him that sways an Empire. And justly so, too," added he, rapidly. " A man must be a consummate judge of horseflesh that could pick out the winner of the Oaks in a stable, but the scrubbiest varlet on the field can see who comes in first on the day of the race ! Have you ever been in America, Hankes ?" asked he, suddenly. " Yes ; all over the States. I think I know cousin Jonathan as well as I know old John himself." " Tou know a very shrewd fellow, then," muttered Dunn ; " over- shrewd, mayhap." 338 DAVENPORT BUMf. " What led you to think of that country now ?" asked the other, curiously. " I scarcely know," said Dunn, carelessly, as he walked the room in thoughtfulness ; then added, " If no recognition were to come of these services of mine, I'd just as soon live there as here. I should, at least, be on the level of the best about me. "Well," cried he, in a higher tone, " we have some trumps to play oat ere it come to that." Once more they turned to the account-books and the papers before them, for Hankes had many things to explain and various difficulties to unravel. The vast number of those enterprises in which Dunn engaged had eventually blended and mingled all their interests together. Estates and shipping, and banks, mines, railroads, and dock companies, had so often interchanged their securities, each bolstering up the credit of the other in turn, that the whole resembled some immense fortress, where the garrison, too weak for a general defence, was always hastening to some one point or other — the seat of immediate attack. And thus an Irish draining fund was one day called upon to liquidate the demands upon a sub-Alpine railroad, while a Mexican tin mine flew to the rescue of a hosiery scheme in Balbriggan ! To have ever a force ready on the point assailed was Dunn's remarkable talent, and he handled his masses like a great master of war. Partly out of that indolent insolence which power begets, he had latterly been less mindful of the press, less alive to the strictures of journalism, and attacks were made upon him which, directed as they were against his solvency, threatened at any moment to assume a dangerous shape. Boused at last by the peril, he had determined on playing a bold game for fortune, and this it was which now engaged his thoughts, and whose details the dawning day saw him deeply con- sidering. His now great theory was, that a recognised station amongst the nobles of the land was the one only security against disaster. " Once amongst them," said he, " they will defend me as one of their order." How to effect this grand object had been the long study of his life. But it was more — it was also his secret ! They who fancied they knew the man, thoroughly understood the habits of his mind, his passions, his prejudices, and his hopes, never as much as suspected what lay at bottom of them all. He assumed a sort of manner that in a measure disarmed their suspicion — he affected pride in that middle station of life he occupied, and seemed to glory in those glowing eulogies of commercial ability and capacity which it was the good pleasure of leading journalists just then to deliver. On public occa- sions he made an even ostentatious display of these sentiments, and DAVENPOET DUNN. 339 Davenport Dunn was often quoted as a dangerous man for an here- ditary aristocracy to have against them. Such was he who now pored over complicated details of figures, intricate and tangled schemes of finance ; and yet while his mind em- braced them, with other thoughts was he picturing to himself a time when, proud amongst the proudest, he would take his place with the great nobles of the land. It was evident that another had not re- garded this ambition as fanciful or extravagant. Lady Augusta — the haughty daughter of one of the haughtiest in the Peerage— as much as said, " It was a fair and reasonable object of hope — then none could deny the claims he preferred, nor any affect to undervalue the vast benefits he had conferred on his country." There was something so truly kind, so touching, too, in the generous tone she assumed, that Dunn dwelt upon it again and again. Knowing all the secret in- stincts of that mysterious brotherhood as she did, Dunn imagined to himself all the advantage her advice and counsels could render him. " She can direct me in many ways, teaching me how to treat these mysterious high priests ae I ought. "What shall I do to secure her favour ? How enlist it in my cause ? Could I make her partner in the enterprise ?" As the thought flashed across him his cheek burned as if with a flame, and he rose abruptly from the table and walked to the window, fearful lest his agitation might be observed. " That were success, indeed !" muttered he. " What a strong bail bond would it be when I called two English Peers my brothers-in-law, and an Earl for my wife's father. This would at once lead me to the very step of the ' Order.' How many noble families would it interest in my eleva- tion. The Ardens are the best blood of the south — connected widely with the highest in both countries. Is it possible that this could succeed?" He thought of the old Earl and his intense pride of birth, and his heart misgave him ; but then Lady Augusta's gentle tones and gentler looks came to his mind, and he remembered that though a Peer's daughter she was penniless, and— we shame to write it — not young. The Lady Augusta Arden marries the million- naire Mr. Dunn, and the world understands the compact. There are many such matches every season. "What age would you guess me to be,Hankes f" saidho, suddenly turning round. " I should call you — let me see — a matter of forty-five or forty-six, Sir." " Older, Hankes— older," said he, with a smile of half-pleasure. " You don't look it, Sir, I protest you don't. Sitting up all night and working over these accounts, one might, perhaps, call you forty- Bix ; but seeing you as you come down to breakfast after your natural rest, you don't seem forty." 340 DATENPOBT DUNK. " This same life is too laborious ; a man may follow it for the ten or twelve years of his prime, but it becomes downright slavery after that." " But what is an active mind like yours to do, Sir ?" asked Hankes. " Take his ease and rest himself." "Ease! — rest! All a mistake, Sir. Great business men can't exist in that lethargy called leisure." " You are quite wrong, Hankes ; if I were the master of some venerable old demesne, like this, for instance, with its timber of cen- turies' growth, and its charms of scenery, such as we see around us here, I'd ask no better existence than to pass my days in calm retirement, invite a stray friend or two to come and see me, and with books and other resources hold myself aloof from stocks and statecraft, and not so much as ask how are the Funds or who is the Minister." " I'd be sorry to see you come to that, Sir, I declare I should," said Hankes, earnestly. " Tou may live to see it, notwithstanding," said Dunn, with a placid smile. " Ah, Sir," said Hankes, " it's not the man who has just conceived such a grand idea as this" — and he touched the books before him — " ought to talk of turning hermit." " We'll see, Hankes — we'll see," said Dunn, calmly. " There come the post-horses — I suppose for you." " Yes, Sir ; I ordered them to be here at six. I thought I should have had a couple of hours in bed by that time ; but it doesn't signify, I can sleep anywhere." " Let me see," said Dunn, calculating. " This is Tuesday ; now, Friday ought to be the day, the news to reach me on Thursday after- noon ; you can send a telegraphic message, and then send on a clerk. Of course, you will know how to make these communications pro- perly. It is better I should remain here in the interval ; it looks like security." " Do you mean to come over yourself, Sir?" " Of course I do. You must meet me there on Friday morning. Let Mrs. Hailes have the house in readiness in case I might invite any one." "All shall be attended to, Sir," said Hankes. "I think I'll de- spatch Wilkins to you with the news ; he's an awful fellow to exag- gerate evil tidings." " Very well," said Dunn. " Good night, or, I opine rather, good morning." And he turned away into his bedroom. DAYENPOBT DUNN. 341 CHAPTEE LXIII. THE GARDEN. Feom the moment that Mr. Davenport Dunn announced he would still continue to enjoy the hospitality of the Hermitage, a feeling of intimacy grew up between himself and his host that almost savoured of old friendship. Lord Grlengariff already saw in the distance wealth and affluence — he had secured a co-operation that never knew failure — the one man whose energies could always guarantee success. It was true, Dunn had not directly pledged himself to anything ; he had listened, and questioned, and inquired, and reflected, but given nothing like a definite opinion, far less a promise. But, as the old Lord sa;d, " These fellows are always cautious, always reserved, and whenever they do not oppose, it may be assumed that they concur. At all events, we must manage with delicacy ; there must be no haste, no importunity ; the best advocacy we can offer to our plans is to make his visit here as agreeable as possible." Such was the wise counsel he gave his daughter as they strolled through the garden after breakfast, talking over the character and the temperament of their guest. " By George, Gusty !" cried Lord Glengariff, after a moment's silence, " I cannot yet persuade myself that this is ' Old Davy,' as you and the girls used to call him long ago. Of all the miraculous transformations I have ever witnessed, none of them approaches this !" " It is wonderful, indeed !" said she, Blowly. "It is not that he has acquired or increased his stock of knowledge — that would not have puzzled me so much, seeing the life of labour he has led — but I go on asking myself, what has become of his former self, of which not a trace nor vestige remains ? where is his shy, hesi- tating manner, his pedantry, his suspicion ? where the intense eager- ness to learn what was going on in the house ? Tou remember how his prying disposition used to worry us ?" " I remember," said she, in a low voice. " There is something, now, in his calm, quiet deportment very like 342 DAVENTOBT BUNS'. dignity. I protest I should — seeing him for the first time — call him a well-bred man." " Certainly," said she, in the same tone. " As little was I prepared for the frank and open manner in which he spoke to me of himself." " Has he done so p" asked she, with some animation. " Tes ; with much candour, and much good sense, too. He sees the obstacles he has surmounted in life, and he, just as plainly, per- ceives those that are not to be overcome." " "What may these latter be ?" asked she, cautiously. " It is pretty obvious what they are," said he, half pettishly ; " his family — his connexions — his station, in fapt." " How did he speak of these — in what terms, I mean ?" " Modestly and fairly. He did not conceal what he owned to feel as certain hardships, but he was just enough to acknowledge that our social system was a sound one, and worked well." " It was a great admission," said she, with a very faint smile. " The Eadical crept out only once," said the old Lord, laughing at the recollection. " It was when I remarked that an ancient nobility, like a diamond, required centuries of crystallisation to give jt lustre and coherence. ' It were well to bear in mind, my Lord,' said he, ' that it began by being only charcoal.' " She gave a low, quiet laugh, but said nothing. " He has very sound notions in many things — very sound indeed. I wish, with all my heart, that more of the class he belongs to were animated with his sentiments. He is no advocate for pulling down ; moderate, reasonable changes— changes in conformity with the spirit of the age, in fact — these he advocates. As I have already said, Gusty, these men are only dangerous when our own exclusiveness has made them so. Treat them fairly, admit them to your society, listen to their arguments, refute them, show them where they have mistaken us, and they are not dangerous." "I suppose you are right," said she, musingly. " Another thing astonishes me : he has no pride of purse about him — at least, I cannot detect it. He talks of money reasonably and fairly, acknowledges what it can, and what it cannot do " " And what, pray, is that ?" broke she in, hastily. " I don't think there can be much dispute on that score !" said he, in a voice of pique. " The sturdiest advocate for the power of wealth never presumed to say it could make a man one of us !" said he, after a pause that sent the blood to his face. DAVEirPOBT DTTSN. 343 " But it can, and does every day," said she, resolutely. " Our Peerage is invigorated by the wealth as well as by the talent of the class beneath it, and if Mr. Dunn be the millionnaire that common report proclaims him, I should like to know why that wealth, and all the influence that it wields, should not be associated with the insti- tutions to which we owe our stability." "The wealth and the influence if you like, only not himself," said the Earl, with a saucy laugh. "My dear Augusta," he added, in a gentler tone, " he is a most excellent, and a very useful man — where he is. The age suits him, and he suits the age. "We live in stirring times, when these sharp intellects have an especial value." " You talk as if these men were your tools. Is it not just possible you may be theirs ? " said she, impatiently. " "What monstrous absurdity is this, child !" replied he, angrily. " It is — it is downright " he grew purple in the endeavour to find the right word—" downright Chartism!" " If so, the Chartists have more of my sympathy than I was aware of." Fortunately for both, the sudden appearance of Dunn himself put an end to a discussion which each moment threatened to become pe- rilous, and whose unpleasant effects were yet visible on their faces. Lord Giengariff had not sufficiently recovered his composure to do more than salute Mr. Dunn ; while Lady Augusta's confusion was even yet more marked. They had not walked many steps in com- pany, when Lord Glengariff was recalled to the cottage by the visit of a neighbouring magistrate, and Lady Augusta found herself alone with Mr. Dunn. " I am afraid, Lady Augusta," said he, timidly, " my coming up was inopportune. I suspect I must have interrupted some confi- dential conversation." " No, nothing of the kind," said she, frankly. " My father and I were discussing what we can never agree upon, and what every day seems to widen the breach of opinion between us ; and I am well pleased that your arrival should have closed the subject." " I never meant to play eavesdropper, Lady Augusta," said he, earnestly ; " but as I came up the grass alley, I heard my own name mentioned twice. Am I indiscreet in asking to what circumstance I owe the honour of engaging your attention ?" " I don't exactly know how to tell you," said she, blushing. " Not, indeed, but that the subject was one on which your own sen- timents would be far more interesting than our speculations ; but in 344 DATENPOBT DUNN. repeating what passed between us, I might, perhapB, give an undue weight to opinions which merely came out in the course of conversa- tion. In fact, Mr. Dunn," said she, hastily, " my father and I differ as to what should constitute the aristocracy of this kingdom, and from what sources it should be enlisted." " And J was used as an illustration?" said Dunn, bowing low, but without the slightest trace of irritation. " Tou were," said she, in a low, but distinct voice. "And," continued he, in the same quiet tone, " Lady Augusta Arden condescended to think and to speak more favourably of the class I belong to than the Earl her father. Well," cried he, with more energy of manner, " it is gratifying to me that I found the ad- vocacy in the quarter that I wished it. I can well understand the noble Lord's prejudices ; they are not very unreasonable ; the very fact that they have taken centuries to mature, and that centuries have acquiesced in them, would give them no mean value. But I am also proud to think that you, Lady Augusta, can regard with generosity the claims of those beneath you. Kemember, too," added he, " what a homage we render to your order when men like myself confess that wealth, power, and influence are all little compared with recog- nition by you and yours." " Perhaps," said she, hesitatingly, " you affix a higher value on these distinctions than they merit." " If you mean so far as they conduce to human happiness, I agree with you ; but I was addressing myself solely to what are called the ambitions of life." '' I have the very greatest curiosity to know what are yours," said she, abruptly. " Mine! mine!" said Dunn, stammering, and in deep confusion. " I have but one." " Shall I" guess it ? Will you tell me, if I guess rightly f" " I will, most faithfully." " Tour desire is, then, to be a Cabinet Minister ; you want to be where the administrative talents you possess will have their fitting influence and exercise." " No, not that !" sighed he, heavily. " Mere title could never satisfy an ambition such as yours, of that I am certain," resumed she. " Tou wouldn't care for such an empty prize." "And yet there! is a title, Lady Augusta," said he, dropping his voice, which now faltered in every word — " there is a title to win DAVENPORT DTOir. 345 which' has been the guiding spirit of my: whole life. In the days of my poverty and obscurity;; as well as in the full noon of my success, it never ceased to be the goalof all, my hopes. If I tremble at the presumption of even approaching this confession, I also feel the sort of desperate courage that animates him who has but one throw for fortune. Yes, Lady Augusta, such a moment as this may not again occur. I .know, you sufficiently well to feel that when one, even humble as I am, dares to avow — — " • ; A quick, step in the walk adjoining startled both, and they looked up. . It. was Sybella Eellett,' who came, up with a sealed packet in her hand;. , • i " A despatch, Mr. Dunn," said she ; " I have been in search of you all over the garden." He took it with a muttered "Thanks," and placed it unread in his pocket.. Miss Kellett quickly saw that her presence was not desired, and with a. hurried allusion to. engage- ments, was moving away,; when 'Lady Augusta. said, " Wait for me, Miss- Kellett ; Mr. Dunn must be given time for his letters, or he will begin to rebel against his captivity." And with this,- she moved away. • • - . ■■ " Pray don't ', go, Lady Augusta," said he. " I'm proof against business appeals to-day." But sh'e.'wasalready out of hearing. Amongst the secrets which Davenport Dunri had never succeeded in unravelling, the female heart was pre-eminently distinguished. The veriest young lady fresh from her governess or the boarding- school would have proved a greater puzzle to him than the' most intricate statement of a finance minister; Whether Lady Augusta had fully comprehended his allusion, or whether, having understood it, she wished to evade the subject, and, spare both herself and' him the pain of any mortifying rejoinder, were now the difficult ques- tions which he revolved over and over in his mind. In his utter ignorance of the sex, he endeavoured to solve the problem by the ordinary guidance of his reason, taking no account of womanly reserve and delicacy, still less of that "finesse" of intelligence which, with all the certainty of an instinct, can divine at once in what channel feelings will run, and how their course can be most safely directed. "She must have seen to what I pointed," said he. "I spoke out plainly enough — perhaps too plainly. Was that the mistake I made ? Was my declaration too abrupt? and if so, was it likely she would not have uttered something like reproof? Her sudden departure might have this signification, as though to say, 'I will spare you 346 DATBNPOET ETON. any comment — I will seem eyen not to have apprehended you.' In the rank to which she pertains, I have heard, a chief study is, how much can be avoided of those rough allusions which grate upon inferior existences ; how to make life calm and peaceful, divesting it so far as may be of the irritations that spring out of hasty words and heated tempers. In her high-bred nature, therefore, how possible is it that she would reason thus, and say, { I will not hurt him by a direct, refusal ; I will not rebuke the presumption of his wishes. He will have tact enough to appre- ciate my conduct, and return to the topic no more!' And yet, how patiently she had heard me up to the very moment of that unlucky interruption. "Without a conscious sense of encouragement I had never dared to speak as I did. Yes, assuredly she led me on to talk of myself and my ambitions as I am not wont to do. She went even further. She overcame objections which to myself had seemed insurmountable. She spoke to me like one taking a deep, sincere interest in my success ; and was this feigned ? or, if real, what meant it ? After all, might not her manner be but another phase of that condescension with which her ' Order' listen to the plots and projects of inferior beings — something begotten of curiosity as much as of interest?" In this fashion did he guess, and speculate, and question on a diffi- culty where even wiser heads have guessed, and speculated, and ques- tioned just as vaguely. At last he was reminded of the circumstance which had inter- rupted their converse — the despatch. He took it from his pocket and looked at the address and the seal, but never opened it, and with a kind of half-smile replaced it in his pocket. BAYENPOBT ETON. 347 CHAPTER XLIV. THE TELEGRAPHIC DESPATCH. "When Mr. Davenport Dunn entered the drawing-room before dinner on that day, hia heart beat very quickly as he saw Lady Augusta Arden was there alone. In what spirit she remembered the scene of the morning — whether she felt resentment towards him for his presumption, was disposed to scoff down his pretensions, or to regard them, if not with favour, with at least forgiveness, were the themes on which his mind was yet dwelling. The affable smile with which she now met him did more to resolve these doubts than all his casuistry. " "Was it not very thoughtful of me," said she, " to release you this morning, and suffer you to address yourself to the important things which claimed your attention ? I really am quite vain of my self- denial." " And yet, Lady Augusta," said he, in a low tone, " I had felt more flattered if you had been less mindful of the exigency, and been more interested in what I then was speaking of." " "What a selfish speech," said she, laughing. " Now that my for- bearance has given you all the benefits it could confer, you turn round and say you are not grateful for it. I suppose," added she, half pettishly, " the despatch was not very pressing after all, and that this was the cause of some disappointment." " I am unable to say," replied he, calmly. " "What do you mean ? Surely, when you read it " " But I have not read it — there it is still, just as you saw it," said he, producing the packet with the seal unbroken. " But really, Mr. Dunn," said she, and her face flushed up as she spoke, " this does not impress me with the wonderful aptitude for affairs men ascribe to you. Is it usual to treat these messages so cavalierly ?" " It never happened with me till this morning, Lady Augusta," said he, in the same low tone. " Carried away by an impulse which I will not try to account for, I had dared to speak to you of myself and of my future in a way that showed how eventful to both might prove the manner in which you heard me." 348 DAVENPORT DUNN. " Well, Dunn," cried Lord Glengariff, entering, " I suppose you have made a day of work of it ; we have never seen you since breakfast." " On the contrary, my Lord," replied he, in deep confusion, " I have taken my idleness in the widest sense. Never wrote a line — not looked into a newspaper." " Wouldn't even open a telegraphic message which came to his hands this morning," said Lady Augusta, with a malicious drollery in her glance towards him. " Incredible !" cried my Lord. " Quite true, I assure your Lordship," said Dunn, in deeper confu- sion, and not knowing what turn to give his explanation. " The fact is," broke in Lady Augusta, hurriedly, " Mr. Dunn was so implicit in his obedience to our prescription of perfect rest and repose, that he made it a point of honour not even to read a telegram without permission." "I must say it is very nattering to us," said Lord Glengariff; " but now let us reward the loyalty, and let him see what his news is." Dunn looked at Lady Augusta, who, with the very slightest motion of her head, gave consent, and he broke open the despatch. Dunn crushed the paper angrily in his hand when he finished read- ing it, and muttered some low words of angry meaning. " Nothing disagreeable, I trust ?" asked his Lordship. " Tes, my Lord, something even worse than disagreeable," said he ; then flattening out the crumpled paper, he held it to him to read. Lord Glengariff, putting on his spectacles, perused the document slowly, and then, turning towards Dunn, in a voice of deep agitation, said, " This is very disastrous indeed ; are you prepared for it ?" Without attending to the question, Dunn took the despatch from Lord Glengariff, and handed it to Lady Augusta. " A run for gold !" cried she, suddenly. " An attempt to break the Ossory Bank ! What does it all mean ? Who are they that make this attack ?" " Opponents — some of them political, some commercial, a few, perhaps, men personally unfriendly — enemies of what they call my success!" and he sighed heavily on the last word. " Let me see," said he, slowly, after a pause ; " to-day is Thursday — to-morrow will be the 28th — heavy payments are required for the Guatemala Trunk Line — something more than forty thousand pounds to be made up. The Parma Loan, second instalment, comes on the 30th." " Dinner, my Lord," said a servant, throwing open the door. "A thousand pardons, Lady Augusta," said Dunn, offering his BAVENPOET DUNN. 349 arm. " I am really shocked at obtruding these annoyances upon your notice. Tou see, my Lord," added he, gaily, " one of the penal- ties of admitting the ' working men of life' into your society." It was only as they passed on towards the dinner-room that Lord Glengariff noticed Miss Kellett's absence. " She has a headache, or a cold, I believe," said Lady Augusta, carelessly ; and they sat down to dinner. So long as the servants were present the conversation ranged over common-place events and topics, little indeed passing, since each seemed too deeply impressed with grave forebodings for much incli- nation for mere talking. Once alone — and Lord Glengariff took the earliest moment to be so — they immediately resumed the subject of the ill-omened despatch. "Tou are, at all events, prepared, Dunn?" said the Earl; "this onslaught does not take you by surprise ?" " I am ashamed to say it does, my Lord," said he, with a painful smile. " I was never less suspectful of any malicious design upon me. I was, for the first time perhaps in all my life, beginning to feel strong in the consciousness that I had faithfully performed my al- lotted part in the world, advanced the great interests of my country, and of humanity generally. This blow has, therefore, shocked me deeply." " What a base ingratitude !" exclaimed Lady Augusta, indignantly. " After all," said Dunn, generously, "let us remember that I am not a fair judge in my own cause. Others have taken, it may be, another reading of my character ; they may deem me narrow-minded, selfish, and ambitious. My very success — I am not going to deny it has been great — may have provoked its share of enmity. Why, the very vastness and extent of my projects were a sort of standing re- proach to petty speculators and small scheme-mongers." " So that it has really come upon you unawares ?" said the Earl, reverting to his former remark. " Completely so, my Lord. The tranquil ease and happiness I have enjoyed under this roof— the first real holiday in a long life of toil — are the best evidences I can offer how little I could have anticipated such a stroke." " Still I fervently hope it will not prove more than inconvenience," said he, feelingly. " Not even so much, my Lord, as regards money. I cannot believe that the movement will be general. There is no panic in the country — rents are paid — prices remunerating — markets better than we have seen them for years ; the sound sense and intelligence of the people 350 DATENPOBT DUSTST. will soon, detect in. this attack the prompting of some personal malice. In all likelihood a few thousands will meet the whole demand." " I am so glad to hear you say so !" said Lady Augusta, smiling. " Beally, when I think of all our persuasions to detain you here, I never could acquit us of some sort of Bhare in any disaster your delay might have occasioned." " Oh, Dunn would never connect his visit here with such conse- quences, I'm certain," said the Earl. " Assuredly not, my Lord," said he ; and as his eyes met those of Lady Augusta, he grew red, and felt confused. " Are your people — ■your agents and men of business, I mean," said the Earl, " equal to such an emergency as the present, or will they have to look to you for guidance and direction ?" " Merely to meet the demand for gold is a simple matter, my Lord," said Dunn, "and does not require any effort of mind or forethought To prevent the hack-water of this rushing flood submerging and en- gulphing other banking-houses — to defend, in a word, the lines of our rivals and enemies — to save from the consequences of their reckless- ness the very men who have assailed us — these are weighty cares !" "And are you bound in honour to take this trouble in their behalf?" " No, my Lord, not in honour any more than in law, but bound by the debt we owe to that commercial community by whose confidence we have acquired fortune. My position at the head of the great in- dustrial movement in this country imposes upon me the great respon- sibility that 'no injury should befal the republic' Against the insane attacks of party hate, factious violence, or commercial knavery, I am expected to do my duty, nay, more, I am expected to be provided with means to meet whatever emergency may arise — defeat this scheme — expose that— denounce the other. Am I wrong in calling these weighty cares ?" Self-glorification was not usually one of Davenport Dunn's weak- nesses — indeed, " self," in any respect, was not a theme on which he was disposed to dwell — and yet now, for reasons which may better be suspected than alleged, he talked in a spirit of even vain exultation of his plans, his station, and his influence. If it was something to display before the Peer claims to national respect, which, if not so ancient, were scarcely less imposing than his own, it was more pleasing still to dilate upon a theme to which the Peer's daughter listened so eagerly. It was, besides, a grand occasion to exhibit the vast range of resources, the wide-spread influences, and far-reaching sympathies of the great commercial man, to show him, not the mere architect of his own fortune, but the founder of a nation's prosperity. DATENPOET BTJKlf. 351 "Whiie lie thus held forth, and in a strain to which fervour had lent a sort of eloquence, a servant entered with another despatch. " Oh ! I trust this brings you better news," cried Lady Augusta, eagerly ; and as he broke the envelope, he thanked her with a grate- ful look. " Well ?" interposed she, anxiously, as he gazed at the lines with- out speaking — " well ?" " Just as I said," muttered Dunn, in a deep and suppressed voice — "a systematic plot — a deep-laid scheme against me." " Is it still about the Bank ?" asked the Earl, whose interest had been excited by the tenor of the recent conversation. "Yes, my Lord ; they insist on making me out a bubble speculator — an adventurer — a Heaven knows what of duplicity and intrigue. I would simply ask them : ' Is the wealth with which this same Da- venport Dunn has enriched you, real, solid, and tangible ? are the guineas mint-stamped ? are the shares true representatives of value ?' But why do I talk of these people ? If they render me no gratitude, they owe me none — my aims were higher and greater than ever they or their interests comprehended." Prom the haughty defiance of his tone, his voice fell suddenly to a low and quick key, as he said : " This message informs me that the demand upon the Ossory to- morrow will be a great concerted movement. Barnard, the man I myself returned last election for the borough, is to head it ; he has canvassed the county for holders of our notes, and such is the panic, that the magistrates have sent for an increased force of police, and two additional companies of infantry. My man of business asks, ' What is to be done ?' " " And what is to be done ?" asked the Earl. " Meet it, my Lord. Meet the demand as our duty requires us." There was a calm dignity in the manner Dunn spoke the words that had its full effect upon the Earl and his daughter. They saw this " man of the people" display, in a moment of immense peril, an amount of cool courage that no dissimulation could have assumed. As they could, and did indeed say afterwards, when relating the in- cident, " We were sitting at the dessert, chatting away freely about one thing or another, when the confirmed tidings arrived by tele- graph that an organised attack was to be made against his credit by a run for gold. You should really have seen him," said Lady Augusta, " to form any idea of the splendid composure he manifested. The only thing like emotion he exhibited was a sort of haughty dis- dain, a proud pity, for men who should have thus requited the great services he had been rendering to the country." It is but just to own that he did perform his part well ; he acted it, 352 DATEBTOET BUNS. too, as theatrical critics would say, " chastely," that is, there was no rant, no exaggeration — not a trait too much, not a tint too strong. " I wish I knew of any way to be of service to you in this emer- gency, Dunn," said the Earl, as they returned to the drawing-room; " I'm no capitalist, nor have I a round sum at my command " " My dear Lord," broke in Dunn, with much feeling, " of money I can command whatever amount I want. Baring, Hope, Eothschild, any of them would assist me with millions, if I needed them, to- morrow, which happily, however, I do not. There is still a want which they cannot supply, but which, I am proud to say, I have no longer to fear. The kind sympathy of your Lordship and Lady Augusta has laid me under an obligation " Here Mr. Dunn's voice faltered ; the Earl grasped his hand with a generous clasp, and Lady Augusta carried her handkerchief to her eyes as she averted her " What a pack of hypocrites !" cries our reader, in disgust. No, not so. There was a dash of reality through all this deceit. They were moved — their own emotions, the tones of their own voices, the workings of their own natures, had stirred some amount of honest sentiment in their hearts ; how far it was alloyed by less worthy feeling, to what extent fraud and trickery mingled there, we are not going to tell you — perhaps we could not, if we would. "You mean to go over to Kilkenny, then, to-morrow, Dunn?" asked his Lordship, aft§r a painful pause. " Tes, my Lord, my presence is indispensable." " Will you allow Lady Augusta and myself to accompany you ? I believe and trust that men like myself have not altogether lost the influence they once used to wield in this country, and I am vain enough to imagine I may be useful." " Oh, my Lord, this overwhelms me !" said Dunn, and covered his eyes with his hand. DATENPOBT DUNN. 353 CHAPTEE XLV. "THE BUN TOK GOL D." The great Ossory Bank, with its million sterling of paid-up capital, its royal charter, its titled directory, and its shares at a premium, stood at the top of Patrick-street, Kilkenny, and looked, in the splen- dour of its plate-glass windows and the security of its iron railings, the very type of solvency and safety. The country squire ascended the hall-door steps with a sprt of feeling of acquaintanceship, for he had known the Viscount who once lived there in days before the Union, and the farmer experienced a sense of trustfulness in deposit- ing his hard-earned gains in what he regarded as a temple of Croesus. What an air of prosperity and business did the interior present ! The massive doors swung noiselessly at the slightest touch, meet emhlem of the secrecy that prevailed, and the facility that pervaded all trans- actions, within. What alacrity, too, in that numerous band of clerks, who counted, and cashed, and chequed, unceasingly ! How calmly they passed from desk to desk, a word, a mere whisper, serving for converse ; and then what a grand and mysterious solemnity about that back office with its double doors, within which some venerable cashier, bald-headed and pursy, stole at intervals to consult the oracle who dwelt within ! In the spacious apartment devoted to cash operations, nothing denoted the former destiny of the mansion but a large fireplace, with a pretentious chimney-piece of black oak, over which a bust of our gracious Queen now figured, an object of wonder- ment and veneration to many a frieze-coated gazer. On the morning of the 12th August, to which day we have brought our present history, the street in front of the Bank presented a scene of no ordinary interest. From an early hour people continued to pour in, till the entire way was choked up with carriages and conveyances of every description, from the well-equipped barouche of the country gentleman to the humblest " shandradan" of the petty farmer. Sporting-looking fellows upon high-conditioned thorough-breds, ruddy old squires upon cobs, and hard-featured country folk upon shaggy ponies, were all jammed up together amidst a dense crowd of foot passengers. A strong police force was drawn up in front of the Bank, although nothing in the appearance of the assembled mass 2 a 354 DATENPOET BXTNIT. seemed to denote the necessity for their presence. A low murmur of voices ran through the crowd as each talked to his neighbour, con- sulting, guessing, and speculating, as temperament inclined; some were showing placards and printed notices they had received through the post — some pointed to newspaper paragraphs — others displayed great rolls of notes — but all talked with a certain air of sadness that appeared to presage coming misfortune. As ten o'clock drew nigh, the hour for opening the Bank, the excitement rose to a painful pitch ;. every eye was directed to the massive door, whose gorgeous brass knocker shone with a sort of insolent brilliancy in the sun. At every moment watches were consulted, and in muttered whispers men broke their fears to those beside them. Some could descry the heads of people moving about in the cash-office, where a considerable bustle appeared to prevail, and even this much of life seemed to raise the spirits of the crowd, and the rumour ran quickly on every side that the Bank was about to open. At last, the deep bell of the Town- hall struck ten. At each fall of the hammer all expected to see the door move, but it never stirred ; and now the pent-up feeling of the multitude might be marked in a sort of subdued growl — a low, ill- boding sound, that seemed to come out of the very earth. As if to answer the unspoken anger of the crowd — a challenge accepted ere given — a heavy crash was heard, and the police proceeded to load with ball in face of the people — a demonstration whose significance there was no mistaking. A cry of angry defiance burst from the as- sembled mass at the sight, but as suddenly was checked again as the massive door was seen to move, and then, with a loud bang, fly wide open. The rush was now tremendous. "With some vague impression that everything depended upon being amongst the first, the people poured in with all the force of a mighty torrent. Each, fighting his way as if for life itself, regardless of the cries of suffering about him, strove to get forward ; nor could all the efforts of the police avail to restrain them in the slightest. Bleeding, wounded, half-suffocated, with bruised faces and clothes torn to tatters, they struggled on — no deference to age, no respect to condition. It was a fearful anarchy, where every thought of the past was lost in the present emergency. On they poured, breathless and bloody, with gleaming eyes and faces of demoniacal meaning ; they pushed, they jostled, and they tore, till the first line gained the counter, against which the force behind now threatened to crush them to death. What a marvellous contrast to that storm-tossed multitude, steam- ing and disfigured, was the calm attitude of the clerks within the counter ! Not deigning, as it seemed, to bestow a glance upon the DATEITPOBT ETON. 355 agitated scene before them, they moved placidly about, pen behind the ear, in voices of ordinary tone asking what each wanted, and counting over the proffered notes with all the impassiveness of every- day habit. " Gold for these, did you say ?" they repeated, as though any other demand met the ear ! Why, the very air rang with the sound, and the walls gave back the cry. From the wild voice of half- maddened recklessness to the murmur that broke from fainting ex- haustion, there was but one word — " Gold !*' A drowning crew, as the surging waves swept over them, never screamed for succour with wilder eagerness than did that tangled mass shout, " Gold, gold !" In their savage energy, they could scarcely credit that their de- mands should be so easily complied with ; they were half stupified at the calm indifference that met their passionate appeal. They counted and recounted the glittering pieces over and over, as though some trick were to be apprehended — some deception to be detected. When drawn or pulled back from the counter by others eager as themselves, they might be seen in corners counting over their money, and reckoning it once more. It was so hard to believe that all their terrors were for nothing — their worst fears without a pre- text. Even yet they couldn't imagine but that the supply must soon run short, and they kept asking those that came away whether they, too> had got then? gold. Hour after hour rolled on, and still the same demand, and still the same unbroken flow of the yellow tide continued. Some very large cheques had been presented, but no sooner was their authenticity acknowledged than they were paid. An. agent from another bank arrived with a formidable roll of " Ossory" notes, but was soon seen issuing forth with two bursting little bags of sovereigns. Notwithstanding all this, the pressure never ceased for a moment — nay, as the day wore on, the crowds seemed to have grown denser and more importunate, and when the half-exhausted clerks claimed a few minutes' respite for a biscuit and a glass of wine, a cry of impatience burst from the insatiable multitude. It was three o'clock. In another hour the Bank would close, as many sur- mised, never to open again. It was evident, from the still increasing crowd and the excitement that prevailed, how little confidence the ready payments of the Bank had difiiised. They who came forth loaded with gold were regarded as fortunate, while they who still waited for their turn were in all the feverish torture of uncertainty. A little after three the crowd was cleft open by the passage of a large travelling barouche, which, with four steaming posters, advanced slowly through the dense mass. " Who comes here with an earl's coronet p' said a gentleman to his 2 a 2 356 DAVBNPOET DTTN1T. neighbour, as the carriage passed. " Lord GleDgariff, and Daven- port Dunn himself, by George !" cried he, suddenly. The words were as quickly caught up by those at either side, and the news, " Davenport Dunn has arrived," ran through the immense multitude. If there was an eager, almost intense, anxiety to catch a glimpse of him, there was still nothing that could indicate in the slightest degree the state of popular feeling towards him. Slightly favourable it might possibly have been, inasmuch as a faint effort at a cheer burst forth at the announcement of his name, but it was re- pressed just as suddenly, and it was in a silence almost awful that he descended from the carriage at the private door of the Bank. "Do, I beg of you, Mr. Dunn," said Lady Augusta, as he stood to assist her to alight, "let me entreat of you not to think of us. "We can be most comfortably accommodated at the hotel." " By all means, Dunn. I. insist upon it," broke in the Earl. " In declining my poor hospitality, my Lord," said Dunn, " you will grieve me much, while you will also favour the impression that I am not in a condition to offer it." " Ah ! quite true — very justly observed. Dunn is perfectly right, Augusta. We ought to stop here." And he descended at once, and gave his hand to his daughter. Lady Augusta turned about ere she entered the house, and looked at the immense crowd before her. There was something of almost resentfulness in the haughty gaze she bestowed ; but, let us own, the look, whatever it implied, well became her proud features, and more than one was heard to say, " What a handsome woman she is !" This little incident in the day's proceedings gave rise to much con- jecture, some auguring that events must be grave and menacing when Dunn's own presence was required, others inferring that he came to give assurance and confidence to the Bank. Nor was the appearance of Lord Glengariff less open to its share of surmise, and many were the inquiries how far he was personally interested — whether he was a large stock-holder of the concern, or deep in its books as debtor. Leaving the speculative minds who discussed the subject without doors, let us follow Mr. Dunn, as, with Lady Augusta on his arm, he led the way to the drawing-room. The rooms were handsomely furnished, that to the back opening upon a conservatory filled with rich geraniums, and ornamented with a pretty marble fountain, now in full play. Indeed, so well had Dunn's orders been attended to, that the apartments which he scarcely occupied for above a day or so in a twelvemonth had actually assumed the appearance of being in constant use. Books, prints, DAVENPOET DUNN. 357 and newspapers were scattered out, fresh flowers stood in the yases, and recent periodicals lay on the tables. " What a charming house !" exclaimed Lady Augusta ; and really the approbation was sincere, for the soft-cushioned sofas, the per- fumed air, the very quiet itself, were in delightful contrast to the heat and discomfort of a journey by " rail." It was in vain Dunn entreated his noble guests to accept some luncheon ; they peremptorily refused, and, in fact, declared that they would only remain there on the condition that he bestowed no further thought upon them, addressing himself entirely to the weighty cares around him. " Will you at least tell me at what hour you'd like dinner, my Lord ? Shall we say six ?" " With all my heart. Only, once more, I beg, never think of us. We are most comfortable here, and want for nothing." With a deep bow of obedience, Dunn moved towards the door, when suddenly Lady Augusta whispered a few rapid words in her father's ear. "Stop a moment, Dunn!" cried the Earl. "Augusta is quite right. The observation is genuine woman's wit. She says, I ought to go down along with you, to show myself in the Bank ; that my presence there will have a salutary effect. Eh, what d'ye think ?" "I am deeply indebted to Lady Augusta for the suggestion," said Dunn, colouring highly. " There cannot be a doubt that your Lord- ship's countenance and support at such a moment are priceless." " I'm glad you think so — glad she thought of it," muttered the Earl, as he arranged his white locks before the glass, and made a sort of hasty toilet for his approaching appearance in public. To judge from the sensation produced by the noble Lord's appear- ance in the Eank, Lady Augusta's suggestion was really admirable. The arrival of a waggon- load of bullion could scarcely have caused a more favourable impression. If Noah had been an Englishman, the dove would have brought him not an olive-branch but a Lord. I say it in no spirit of sarcasm or sneer — for, cmteris paribus, Lords are better company than Commoners ; I merely record it passingly, as a strong trait of our people and our race. So was it now, that from the landed gentleman to the humblest tenant-farmer, the Earl's pre- sence seemed a fresh guarantee of solvency. Many remarked that Dunn looked pale — some thought anxious — but all agreed that the hearty-faced, white-haired old nobleman at his side was a perfect picture of easy self-satisfaction. They took their seats in the cash-office, within the counter, to be 358 DAVENPOBT DTTSN. seen by all, and see everything that went forward. If Darenport Dunn regarded the scene with a calm, and unmoved indifference, his attention being, in fact, more engrossed by his newspaper than by what went on around, Lord Glengariff's quick eye and ear were engaged incessantly. He seanned the appearance of each new appli- cant as he came up to the table, — he listened to his demand, noted its amount, and watched with piercing glance what effect it might produce on the cashier. Nor was he an unmoved spectator of the scene, for while he simply contented himself with an angry stare at the frieze-coated peasant, he actually scowled an insolent defiance when any of higher rank or more pretentious exterior presented him- self, muttering in broken accents beneath his breath, " Too bad, too bad !" " Gross ingratitude !" "A perfect disgrace!" and so on. He was at the very climax; of his indignation, when a Toice from the crowd addressed him with, "How d'ye do, my Lord? I was not aware you were in this part of the country." He put up his double eye-glass, and speedily recognised the Mr. Barnard whom Dunn mentioned as so unworthily requiting all he had done for him. " No, Sir," said the Earl, haughtily; "and just as little did I ex- pect to see you here on such an errand as this. In my day, country gentlemen were the first to give the example of trust and confidence, and not foremost in propagating unworthy apprehensions." " I'm not a partner in the Bank, my Lord, and know nothing of its solvency," said the other, as he handed in two cheques over the counter. " Eight thousand six hundred and forty-eight. Three thousand, twelve, nine, six," Baid the clerk, mechanically. "How will you have it, Sir ?" " Bank of Ireland notes will do." Dunn lifted his eyes from the paper, and then, raising his hat, saluted Mr. Barnard. " I trust you left Mrs. Barnard well ?" said he, in a calm voice. " Tes, thank you — well — quite well," said Barnard, in some con- fusion. " "Will you remember to tell her that she shall have the acorns of the Italian pines next week. I have heard of their arrival at the Custom-house." While Barnard muttered a very confused expression of thanks, the old Earl looked from one to the other of the speakers in a sort of bewilderment. "Where was the angry indignation he had looked for DAVENPOBT BTTNN. 359 from Dunn ?— where the haughty denunciation of a black ingra- titude? " Why, Dunn, I say," whispered he, " isn't this Barnard the fellow you spoke of — the man you returned to Parliament t'other day?" " The same, my Lord," replied Dunn, in a low, cautious voice. " He is here exacting a right — a just right — and no more. It is not now, nor in this place, that I would remind him how ungraciously he has treated me. This day is his. Mine will come yet." Before Lord Glengariff could well recover from the astonishment of this cold and calculating patience, Mr. Hankes pushed his way through the crowd, with an open letter in his hand. It was a telegram just received, with an account of an attack made by the mob on Mr. Dunn's house in Dublin. Like all such com- munications, the tidings were vague and unsatisfactory : " A terrific attack by mob on No. 18. Windows smashed, and front door broken, but not forced. Police repulsed ; military sent for." "So much for popular gratitude, my Lord," said Dunn, as he handed the slip of paper to the Earl. '' Fortunately, it was never the prize on which I had set my heart. Mr. Hankes," said he, in a bland, calm voice, "the crowd seems scarcely diminished outside. Will you kindly affix a notice on the door, to state that, to conve- nience the public, the Bank will on this day continue open till five o'clock?" " By Heaven ! they don't deserve such courtesy !" cried the old Lord, passionately. " Be as just as you please, but show them no generosity. If it be thus they treat the men who devote their best energies— their very lives — to the country, I, for one, say it is not a land to live in, and I spurn them as countrymen!" " What would you have, my Lord ? The best troops have turned and fled under the influence of a panic — the magic words, ' We are mined!' once routed the very column that had stormed a breach! Tou don't expect to find the undisciplined masses of mankind more calmly courageous than the veterans of a hundred fights." A wild hoarse cheer burst forth in the street at this moment, and drowned all other sounds. " What is it now ? Are they going to attack us here ?" cried the Earl. The cry again arose, louder and wilder, and the shouts of " Dunn for ever ! Dunn for ever !" burst from a thousand voices. " The placard has given great satisfaction, Sir," said Hankes, re- appearing. " Confidence is fully restored." 360 DAYENFOET DUNN. And truly it was strange to see how quickly a popular sentiment spread its influence, for they who now came forward to exchange their notes for gold no longer wore the sturdy air of defiance of the earlier applicants, but approached half reluctantly, and with an evident sense of shame, as though yielding to an ignoble impulse of cowardice and fear. The old Earl's haughty stare and insolent gaze were little calculated to rally the diffident ; for with his double eye- glass he scanned each new comer with the air of a man saying, " I mark, and I'll not forget you !" "What a contrast was Dunn's expression — that look, so full of gentle pity and forgiveness ! Nothing of anger, no resentfulness, dis- figured the calm serenity of his pale features. He had a word of recognition — even a smile and a kind inquiry — for some of those who now bashfully tried to screen themselves from notice. The great rush was already over; a visible change had come over that vast multitude who so lately clamoured aloud for gold. The very aspect of that calm, unmoved face was a terrible rebuke to their unworthy terror. " It's nigh over, Sir," whispered Hankes to his chief, as he stood with his massive gold watch in the hollow of his hand. " Seven hundred only have been paid out in the last twelve minutes. The battle is finished!" The vociferous cheering without continued unceasingly, and yells for Dunn to come forth and show himself filled the air. " Do you hear them ?" asked Lord Grlengariff, looking eagerly at Dunn. " Tes, my Lord. It is a very quick reaction. Popular opinion is generally correct in the main ; but it is rare to find it reversing its own judgments so suddenly." " Very dispassionately spoken, Sir," said the old Lord, haughtily ; " but what if you had been unprepared for this onslaught to-day ? — what if they had succeeded in compelling you to suspend pay- ments?" " Had such been possible, my Lord, we would have richly de- served any reverse that might have befallen us. What is it, Hankes P" cried he, as that gentleman endeavoured to get near him. " You'll have to show yourself, Sir — you must positively address them in a few words from the balcony." " I do not think so, Hankes. This is a mere momentary burst of popular feeling." " Not at all, Sir. Listen to them now — they are shouting madly DAVENFOBT DUNN. 361 for you. To decline the call will be taken as pride. I implore you to come out, if only for a few minutes." " I suppose he is right, Dunn," said Lord Glengariff, half doggedly. " For my own part, I have not the slightest pretension to say how popular demonstrations — I believe that is the word for them — are to be treated. Street gatherings, in my day, were called mobs, and dis- persed by horse police ; our newer civilisation parleys to them and flatters them. I suppose you understand the requirements of the times we live in." The clamour outside was now deafening, and by its tone seemed in sort to justify what Hankes had said, that Dunn's indifference to their demands would be construed into direct insult. " Do it at once !" cried Hankes, eagerly, " or it will be too late. A few words spoken now will save us thirty thousand pounds to- morrow." This whisper in Dunn's ear decided the question, and turning to the Earl, he said, "I believe, my Lord, Mr. Hankes is right — I ought to show myself." " Come along, then," said the old Lord, heartily ; and he took his • arm with an air that said, " I'll stand by you throughout." Scarcely had Dunn entered the drawing-room, than Lady Augusta met him, her cheek flushed and her eyes flashing. " I am so glad," cried she, " that you are going to address them. It is a proud mo- ment for you." When the window opened, and Davenport Dunn appeared on the balcony, the wild roar of the multitude made the air tremble, for the cry was taken up by others in remote streets, and came echoing back again and again. I have heard that consummate orators — men prac- tised in all the arts of public speaking — have acknowledged that there is no such severe test, in the way of audience, as that mixed assem- blage called a mob, wherein every class has its representative, and every gradation its type. Now Dunn was not a great public speaker. The few sentences he was obliged to utter on the occasions of his health being drunk, cost him no uncommon uneasiness; he spoke them usually with faltering accents and much diffidence. It happens, however, that the world is often not displeased at these small signs of confusion — these little defects in oratorical readiness — in men of acknowledged ability, and even prefer them to the rapid flow and voluble ease of more practised orators. There is, so to say, a mock air of sincerity in the professions of a man whose feelings seem fuller than his words — something that implies the heart to be in the 362 davebtpom 1 mists. right place^ though the tongue be but a poor exponent of its senti- ments ; and lastly, the world is always ready to accept the embar- rassment of the speaker' as an evidence of *he grateful emotions that are swaying him. Hence the success' of country gentlemen in the House— whence, the hearty cheers that follow the rambling discursive- ness of bucolic eloquence ! If Mr. Dunn was not an orator, he was a keen and' shrewd observer, and one fact he had noticed, which was, that the shouts and cries of popular' assemblages are to an indifferent speaker pretty much what am accompaniment is to a bad singer — the aids by which he sur- mounts difficult passages and conceals his feise notes. Mr. Hankes, too, well understood how to lead this orchestra, and had already taken his place on the Steps of the door beneath. Dram stpodin front of the balcony, Lofd'Glengariff at his side and a little behind him. "With one hand pressed upon his heart, he bowed deeply to the multitude. " My kind friends," said he, in a low voice, but which was audible to a great distance, ''it has been my fortune to have received at different times of my life gratifying assurances of sympathyahH: respect, but never in the whole course of a very varied career do I remember an occasion so deep'ly gratifying to my feelings as the present. (Oheers, that lasted ten minutes and more.) It is not," resumed' he, with more energy — "it is not at a moment like this, surrounded by -brave and warm hearts, 'when the sentiments of affection that sway you are mingled with the emotions of my own breast, that I would take a dark or gloomy view of human nature, but truth' compels me to say that' the -attack made 1 this day upon my credit — for I am the Ossory Bank — -(loud and wild cheering) — -yes, I repeat it, for the Stability of this institution / am responsible by all I possess in this world. Every share, every guinea, every acre I own are here ! Far from me to impute ungenerous or unworthy motives to any 'quarter; >but, v my worthy friends, there has been foul play — .(groans) — there has been treachery — (deeper groans) — and my name is not Davenport Dunn but it shall be exposed and punished. (Cries of " More power to -ye," and hearty cheers,- greeted this solemn assurance.) " I am, as you are well aware, and I glory in declaring i£, one of yourselves. (Here the enthusiasm was tremendous.) By moderate abilities, hard work, land unflinching honesty — for that is the great secret — I have become what you see me to-day ! (Loud cheering.) If there be amongst you any who aspire: to my position, I tell him that : nothing is easier than to attain it. I was a poor scholar — you f -i <8 BATEN3P0ET DTJUN. 363 know what a poor scholar is — when the generous nobleman you see bow at my side first noticed me. (Three cheers for the Lord were proposed and given most heartily.) His generous patronage gave me my first impulse in life. I soon learned how to do the rest. (" That ye did ;" " More power and success to ye," here ran through the mob.) Now, it was at the table of that noble Lord — enjoying the first real holiday in thirty years of toil — that I received a tele- graphic despatch, informing me there would be a run for gold upon this Bank before the week was over. I vow to you I did not believe it. I spurned the tidings as a base calumny upon the people, and as I handed the despatch to his Lordship to read, I said, if this be pos- sible — and I doubt it much — it is the treacherous intrigue of an enemy, not the spontaneous movement of the public. (Here Lord Glengariff bowed an acquiescence to the statement, a condescension on his part that speedily called for three vociferous cheers for " the Lord," once more.) " I am no lawyer," resumed Dunn, with vigour — " I am a plain man of the people, whose head was never made for subtleties ; but this I tell you, that if it be competent for me to offer a reward for the discovery of those who have hatched this conspiracy, my first care will be on my return to Dublin to propose ten thousand pounds for such information as may establish their guilt ! (Cheering for a long time followed these words.) They knew that they could not break the Bank — in their hearts they knew that our solvency was as complete as that of the Bank of England itself — but they thought that by a panic, and by exciting popular feeling against me, I, in my pride of heart and my conscious honesty, might be driven to some indignant reaction ; that I might turn round and say, Is this the country I have slaved for ? Are these the people for whose cause I have neglected personal advancement, and disregarded the flatteries of the great ? Are these the rewards of days of labour and nights of anxiety and fatigue ? They fancied, possibly, that, goaded by what I might have construed into black ingratitude, I would say, like Coriolanus, ' I banish you !' But they little knew either you or me, my warm-hearted friends ! (Deafening cheers.) They little knew that the well-grounded confidence of a nation cannot be obliterated by the excitement of a moment. A panic in the commercial, like a thunder-storm in the physical world, only leaves the atmosphere lighter, and the air fresher than before ; and so I say to you, we shall all breathe more freely when we rise to-morrow — no longer to see the dark clouds overhead, nor hear the rumbling sounds that betoken coming storm. 364 DAVENPOBT DTTNN. " I have detained you too long. ("No, no !" vociferously broke forth.) I have spoken also too much about myself. (" Not a bit ; we could listen to ye till mornin'," shouted a wild voice, that drew down hearty laughter.) But before I go, I wish to say, that, hard pressed as we are in the Bank — sorely inconvenienced by the demands upon us — I am yet able to ask your excellent Mayor to accept of five hundred pounds from me for the poor of this city — (what a yell fol- lowed this announcement ! plainly indicating what a personal interest the tidings seemed to create) — and to add — (loud cheers) — and to add — (more cheers) — and to add," cried he, in his deepest voice, " that the first toast I will drink this day Bhall be, The Boys of Kilkenny !" It is but justice to add, that Mr. Dunn's speech was of that class of oratory that " hears" better , than it reads, while Ms audience was also less critically disposed than may be our valued reader. At all events, it achieved a great success ; and within an hour after its delivery, hawkers cried through the streets of the city, " The Full and True Account of the Bun for Gold, with Mr. Dunn's Speech to the People ;" and, sooth to say, that though the paper was not " cream laid," and though many of the letters were upside down, the litera- ture had its admirers, and was largely read. Later on, the city was illuminated, two immense letters of D. D. figuring in coloured lamps in front of the Town-hall, while copious libations of whisky-punch were poured forth in honour of the Man of the People. In every rank and class, from the country gentleman who dined at the club- house, to the smallest chop-house in John-street, there was but one sentiment — that Dunn was a fine fellow, and his enemies downright scoundrels. If a few of nicer taste and more correct feeling were not exactly pleased with his speech, they wisely kept their opinions to themselves, and let " the Ayes have it," who pronounced it to be manly — aboveboard — modest, and so forth. Throughout the entire evening, Mr. Hankes was everywhere, per- sonally or through his agents ; his care was to collect public senti- ment, to ascertain what popular opinion thought of the whole events of the morning, and to promote, so far as he could with safety, the flattering estimate already formed of his chief. Scarcely half an hour elapsed without Dunn's receiving from his indefatigable lieutenant some small scrap of paper, with a few words hastily scrawled, in this fashion : " Bice and "Walsh's, Nine o'clock. — Company in the coffee-room enthusiastic ; talk of a public dinner ; some propose portrait in Town- hall." DAVENPORT DUNN. 365 " A quarter to Ten, Judy's, Hose Inn-street. — Comic song, with a chorus : " ' If for gold ye run, Says the Shan van Voght ; If for gold ye run, I'll send for Pavy Dunn, He's the boy to show ye fun, Says the Shan van Voght !' " "Eleven o'clock, High-street. — Met the Dean, who says, ' D. D. is an honour to us ; we are all proud of him.' The county your own when you want it." " Twelve o'clock. — If any one should venture to ask for gold to- morrow, he will be torn to pieces by the mob." Assuredly it was a triumph ; and every time that the wild cheers from the crowds in the street broke in upon the converse in the draw- ing-room, Lady Augusta's eyes would sparkle as she said, " I don't wonder at your feeling proud of it all !" And he did feel proud of it. Strange as it may seem, he was as proud as though the popularity had been earned by the noblest actions and the most generous devotion. ~We are not going to say why or wherefore this. And now for a season we take our leave of him to follow the fortunes of some others whose fate we seem to have forgotten. "We have the less scruple for deserting Davenport Dunn at this moment, that we leave him happy, prospering, and in good company. 366 DAVEKTOET T>UHCS. CHAPTER XLVI. A NOTE FROM DAVIS. Am I asking too much of my esteemed reader, if I beg of him to remember where and how I last left the Honourable Annesley Beecher ? for it is to that hopeful individual and his fortunes I am now about to return. If it be wearisome to the reader to have his attention suddenly drawn from the topic before him, and his interest solicited for those he has well-nigh forgotten, let me add that it is almost as bad for the writer, who is obliged to hasten hither and thither, and, like a huntsman with a straggling pack, to urge on the tardy, correct the loiterer, and repress the eager. When we parted with Annesley Beecher, he was in sore trouble and anxiety of mind ; a conviction was on him that he was " squared," " nobbled," " crossed," " potted," or something to the like intent and with a like euphonious designation. " The Count and Spicer were conspiring to put him in a hole !" As if any " hole " could be as dark, as hopeless, and as deep as the dreary pitfal of his own helpless nature ! His only resource seemed flight : to break cover at once and run for it, appeared the solitary solution of the difficulty. There was many a spot in the map of Europe which offered a sanctuary against G-rog Davis. But what if Grog were to set the law in motion, where should he seek refuge then ? Some one had once mentioned to him a country with which no treaty connected us with regard to criminals. It began, if he remembered aright, with an S ; was it Sardinia, or Sweden, or Spain, or Sicily, or Switzerland? It was surely one of them, but which ? " "What a mass of rubbish, to be sure," thought he, " they crammed me with at Rugby, but not one solitary particle of what one could call useful learning. See now, for instance, what benefit a bit of geography might be to me !" And he rambled on in his mind, concocting an educational scheme which would really fit a man for the wear and tear of life. It was thus reflecting he entered the inn and mounted to his room ; his clothes lay scattered about, drawers were crammed with his wearables, and the table covered with a toilet equipage, costly, and DAVENPOBT T3VS1S. 367 not yet paid for. Who was to pack all these? "Who was to make up that one portmanteau which would suffice for flight, including all the indispensable, and rejecting the superfluous P There is a case recorded of a Frenchman who was diverted from his resolve on suicide by discovering that his pistols were not loaded, and, incredible as it may seem, Beecher was deterred from his journey by the thought of how he was to pack his trunk. He had never done so much for himself since he was born, and he didn't think he could do it ; at all events, he wasn't going to try. Certain superstitious people are impressed with the notion that making a will is a sure prelude to dying ; so others there are who fancy that, by the least effort on their own behalf, they are forecasting a state of poverty in which they must actually work for subsistence. How hopelessly, then, did he turn over costly waistcoats and em- broidered shirts, gaze on richly-cut and crested essence-bottles and boot-boxes, whose complexity resembled mathematical instruments. In what manner they were ever conveyed so far he could not imagine. The room seemed actually filled with them. It was Bivers had " put them up," but Eivers could no longer be trusted, for he was evidently in the " lay" against him. He sighed heavily at this : it was a dreary, hopeless sigh over the depravity of the world and mankind in general. " And what a para- dise it might be," he thought, " if people would only let themselves be cheated quietly and peaceably, neither threatening with their solici- tors, nor menacing with the police. Heaven knew how little he asked for: a safe thing now and then on the Derby — a good book on the Oaks ; he wanted no more ! He bore no malice nor ill-will to any man breathing ; he never wished to push any fellow to the wall. If ever there was a generous heart it beat in Ms bosom, and if the world only knew the provocation he had received ! No matter, he would never retaliate — he'd die game — be a brick to the last ;" and twenty other fine things of the same sort, that actually brought the tears to his own eyes over his own goodness. Goodness, however, will not pack a trunk, nor will moral qualities, however transcendent, fold cravats and dress-coats, and he looked very despondently around him, and thought over what he half fancied was the one only thing he couldn't do. So accustomed had he been of late to seek Lizzy Davis's counsel in every moment of difficulty, that actually, without knowing it, he descended now to the drawing-room some vague, undefined feeling impelling him to be near her. She was singing at the piano, all alone, as he entered ; the room, as usual brilliantly lighted up as if to receive company, rare flowers and 368 BATENPOET DUNN. rich plants grouped tastefully about, and "Daisy" — for she looked that name on this occasion— in one of those charming " toilettes" whose consummate skill it is to make the most costly articles harmonise into something that seems simplicity itself. She wore a fuchsia in her hair, and another — only this last was of coral and gold elaborately and beautifully designed— on the front of her dress, and, except these, nothing more of ornament. " Tutore mio," said she, gaily, as he entered, " you have treated me shamefully ; for, first of all, you were engaged to drive with me to the Kreutz Berg, and secondly, to take me to the Opera, and now, at half-past nine, you make your appearance. How is this, Mon- sieur ? Expliquez vous." " Shall I tell the truth ?" said he. " By all means, if anything so strange shouldn't embarrass you." " "Well, then, I forgot all about both the drive and the Opera. It's all very well to laugh," said he, in a tone of half pique; "young ladies, with no weightier cares on their hearts than whether they ought to wear lilac or green, have very little notion of a man's anxieties. They fancy that life is a thing of white and red roses, soft music and bouquets — but it ain't." " Indeed ! are you quite sure ?" asked she, with an air of extreme innocence. " I suspect I am," said he, confidently ; " and there's not many a man about town knows more of it than I do." " And now, what may be the cares, or rather, for I don't want to be curious, what sort of cares are they that oppress that dear brain ? Have you got any wonderful scheme for the amelioration of mankind to which you see obstacles ? Are your views in politics obstructed by ignorance or prejudice ? Have you grand notions about art for which the age is not ripe ? or are you actually the author of a won- derful poem that ncbody has had taste enough to appreciate ?" " And these are your ideas of mighty anxieties, Miss Lizzy ?" said he, in a tone of compassionate pity. " By Jove ! how I'd like to have nothing heavier on my heart than the whole load of them." " I think you have already told me you never were crossed in love ?" " Well, nothing serious, you know. A scratch or so, as one may say, getting through the bushes, but never a cropper — nothing like a regular smash." " It would seem to me, then, that you have enjoyed a singularly fortunate existence, and been just as lucky in life as myself." Beecher started at the words. What a strange chaos did they DAVENEOET DTTNN. 369 create within him ! There is no tracing the thoughts that came, and went, and lost themselves in that poor bewildered head. The nearest to anything like consistency was the astonishment he felt that she — Grog Davis's daughter — should ever imagine she had drawn a prize in the world's lottery. " Tes, Mr. Beecher," said she, with the ready tact with which she often read his thoughts and answered them, " even so. I do think myself very, very fortunate ! And why should I not ? I have excel- lent health, capital spirits, fair abilities, and, bating an occasional outbreak of anger, a reasonably good temper. As regards personal traits, Mr. Annesley Beecher once called me beautiful — Count Lienstahl would say something twice as rapturous — at all events, quite good-looking enough not to raise antipathies against me at first sight ; and lastly, but worth all the rest, I have an intense enjoy- ment in mere existence ; the words, ' I live,' are to me, ' I am happy.' The alternations of life, its little incidents and adventures, its passing difficulties, are, like the changeful aspects of the seasons, full of in- terest, full of suggestiveness, calling out qualities of mind and re- sources of temperament that in the cloudless skies of unbroken prosperity might have lain unused and unknown. And now, Sir, no more sneers at my fancied good fortune ; for, whatever you may say, I feel it to be real." There was that in her manner — a blended energy and grace — which went far deeper into Beecher' s heart than her mere words, and he gazed at her slightly flushed cheek and flashing eyes with something very nearly rapture, and he muttered to himself, " There she is, a half-bred 'un, and no training, and able to beat them all!" This time, at all events, she did not read his thoughts ; as little, perhaps, did she care to speculate about them. " By-the-by," said she, suddenly approaching the chimney and taking up a letter, " this has arrived here, by private hand, since you went out, and it has a half-look of Papa's writing, and is addressed to you." Beecher took it eagerly. With a glance he recognised it as from Grog, when that gentleman desired to disguise his hand. " Am I correct ?" asked she — " am I correct in my guess ?" He was too deep in the letter to make her any reply. Its contents were as follows : " Deab B., — They've kicked up such a row about that affair at Brussels, that I have been obliged to lie dark for the last fortnight, and in a confoundedly stupid hole on the right bank of the Ehine. I sent over Spicer to meet the Baron, and take Klepper over to 2 b 370> DiVENPOET! DUNN. Mmiffleguen> and Magdeburg, and some other small f laces in Prussia. They ean pick up in this way a few thousand forks, and keep the mil' going. I gave Mm stoic* orders* not to- see my daughter;, who nratst knownothing whatever of these or any like' doings-. TheBaron she might see, for he knows life thoroughly, and if he ie not a man of high honour, he can assume the part so well that ifr comes pretty much to the same thing. As to yourself, you will, on receipt of this, call on a certain Lazarus Stein, Juden Gasse, No. 41 or 42, and give him your acceptance for two thousand gulden, with 1 which settle 1 your hotel Ml, and come on to Bonn, where, at the Post-office, you will find a note, with my address 1 . Tramp, you see; has : won the Cotteswold, as 1 I prophesied, and ' Leo the Tenth'' no- where. Cranberry must have got his soup pretty hot, for he has come abroad, and his wife and" the children gone down to Scotland. As to your own affairs, Pord says you are better out of the way ; and if anything is to be done 1 in the way of compromise, it must be while you are abroad. He> does not think Strich can get- the rule, and you mustn't distress yourself for an extra outlawry or two. There will be some trouble about the jewels, but I think even that matter may be arranged also. I hope you keep from the tables', and I look for a strict reckoning as to your expenses, and a stricter book up as regards your care of my daughter. ' All square' is the word between pal and pal, and there never was born the man didtft find that to be his btest policy when he dealt with "Your friend, " Christopheb Davis. "To while away the time in' this dreary dog-hole, I have been sketching out' a little plan of a martingale for the roulette-table. There's only one zero at Homburg, and we can try it there as we go up. There's a flaw in it after the twelfth f pass,' but I don't despair of getting over tke difficulty. Old Stein, the money-ehanger, was up- wards of thirty years eroupier at the Cursaal, and get him to tell you the average runs, black and red, at rouge-et-noir, and what are the signs of an intermitting game ; and also the six longest runs be has ever known. He is a shrewd fellow, and seeing that you come from me will be confidential. " There has been another fight in the Crimea, and somebody well licked. I had nothing on the match, and don't care a brass farthing who claimed the stakes. " Tell Lizzy that I'm longing 1 to see her, andiif I didn't write' it is BATES POET' DTTNN. 371 because Pin keeping everything to tell her when we meet. If it •wasn't for her picture, I don''t know what would have become of me since last' Tuesday, when the rain set in.'* Beecher re-read the letter from the beginning; nor was it an easy matter for him to master at once all the topics it included. Of him- self and ! his own affairs the information was vague and'unsatisfactory ; but Ghrog knew how to keep him always in suspense — to make him ever feel' that he was swimming for his life, and he himself the only '"spar" He could catch at. " Bring me to book about my care of his daughter!" muttered 1 he, over and over, "just as if she wasn't the girl to take care of herself. Egad !' he seems to know precious little about her. I'd give a ' Nap' to show her this letter, and just hear what she'd say of ft all. I sup- pose she'd split on me. She'd go and tell Davis; ' Beecher has put me up to the whole "rig;" ' and if she did : What would happen then ?" asked he, replying to the low, plaintive whistle- which con- cluded his meditation. " Eh — what ! did I say anything ?" cried he, in terror. " Wot a syllable. But I could see that you had conjured up some difficulty which you were utterly unable to deal with." " "Well, here it is," said he, boldly. " This letter is from your father. It's all full of private details, of which you know nothing, nor would you care to hear ; but there is one passage — just one — that I'd greatly like to have your opinion upon. At the same time, I tell' you frankly, I have no warranty from your father to let you see- it — nay, the' odds are; he'd pull me up pretty sharp for' doing so without his authority." " That's quite' enough, Mr. Beecher, about yawr scruples. Now mine go a little further still, for they would make me refuse to learn anything which my father's reserve had kept from me. It is a very easy rule of conscience, and'neitherhard to remember nor to follow." "At all events, he meant this for your own eye," said' Beecher, showing her the last few lines of the letter. She read them calmly over, a- slight trembling of the lip — so slight that it seemed 1 rather like a play of light over her face — was the only sign of emotion visible, and then, carefully folding the letter, she gave it back, saying; " Yes, I hatf a right to see these lineB." " He wfond of you, and! proud' of you, too," said Beecher. A very slight nod of her head gave an assent to his remarfi, and she was silent. " We are to leave this at once," continued 1 Be, "and move 2b2 372 DAVENPOET DtJKlT. on to Bonn, where we shall find a letter with your father's address, somewhere, I take it, in that neighbourhood." He waited, hoping she would say something, but she did not speak. And then he went on : " And then you will be once more at home — emancipated from this tiresome guardianship of mine." " Why tiresome ?" asked she, suddenly. " Oh, by Jove ! I know I'm a very slow sort of fellow as a ladies' man — have none of the small talents of those foreigners — couldn't tell Mozart from "Verdi — nor, though I can see when a woman is well togged, could I tell you the exact name of any one part of her dress." " If you really did know all these, and talked of them, I might have found you very tiresome,'' said she, in that half-careless voice she used when seeming to think aloud. " And you," asked she, sud- denly, as she turned her eyes fully upon him — and you, are you to be emancipated then ? — are you going to leave us ?" " As to that," replied he, in deep embarrassment, " there's a sort of hitch in it. I ought, if I did the right thing, to be on my way to Italy now, to see Lackington — my brother, I mean. I came abroad for that ; but Gr your father, I should say — induced me to join him, and so, with one thing and the other, here I am, and that's really all I know about it." ""What a droll way to go through life !" said she, with one of her low, soft laughs. " If you mean that I haven't a will of my own, you're all wrong," said he, in some irritation. " Put me straight at my fence, and see if I won't take it. Just say, ' A. B., there's the winning-post,' and mark whether I won't get my speed up." "What a strange glance was that which answered this speech ! It implied no assent ; as little did it mean the reverse. It was rather the look of one who, out of a maze of tangled fancies, suddenly felt recalled to life and its real interests. To poor Beecher's apprehen- sion it simply seemed a sort of half-compassionate pity, and it made his cheek tingle with wounded pride. " I know," muttered he to himself, " that she thinks me a con- founded fool ; but I ain't. Many a fellow in the ring made that mistake, and burned his fingers for it after." " "Well," Baid she, after a moment or so of thought, " I am ready —at least, I shall be ready very soon. I'll tell Annette to pack up, and prepare for the road." " I wish I could get you to have some better opinion of me, Miss DAVENPOBT DUNN. 373 Lizzy," said he, seriously. " I'd give more than I'd like to say that you'd — you'd " "That I'd what ?" asked she, calmly. "That you'd not set me down as a regular flat," said he, with energy. " I'm not very certain that I know what that means ; hut I will tell you that I think you very good tempered, very gentle natured, and very tolerant of flfty-and-one caprices, which must be all the more wearisome because unintelligible. And then you are a very fine gentleman, and — the Honourable Annesley Beecher." And hold- ing out her dress in minuet fashion, she curtseyed deeply, and left the room. " I wish any one would tell me whether I stand to win or not by that book," exclaimed Beecher, as he stood there alone, utterly non- plused and confounded. " Wouldn't she make a stunning actress ! By Jove! Webster would give her a hundred a week, and a free benefit !" And with this he went off into a little mental arithmetic, at the end of which he muttered to himself, " And that does not in- clude starring it in the provinces !" With the air of a man whose worldly affairs went well, he arranged his hair before the glass, put on his hat, gave himself a familiar nod, and went out. CHAPTEE XLVII. LAZARUS STEIN, GELD WECHSLER. The Juden Gasse, in which Beecher was to find out the residence of Lazarus Stein, was a long, straggling street, beginning in the town and ending in a suburb, where it seemed as it were to lose itself. It was not till after a long and patient search that Beecher discovered a small door in an old ivy-covered wall on which, in irregular letters, faint, and almost illegible, stood the words " Stein, Geldwechsler." As he rang stoutly at the bell, the door opened, apparently of itself, and admitted him into a large and handsome garden. The walks were flanked by fruit-trees in espalier, with broad borders of rich flowers at either side, and although the centre spaces were given up to the uses of a kitchen-garden, the larger beds, rich in all the colours 374 DAVENPORT JOHNS'. of. the tulip and ranunculus, .showed 'how predominant was ±he ±a»te for flowers over mere utility. Up one alley, and down another,. did Beecher saunter without meeting .any one, ,or seeing wihat imight mean a habitation, when .at length, in a Jitfle copse of palm-trees, he caught sight of a small diamond-paned window, appro&ehimg which, he. found himself in front-of a eottage whose diminutive size he had jaevesrrHefin equalled, save on the stage. Indeed, in its .wooden framework, gaudily [painted, ats-guaiiuKcarviogs, andats bamboo roof, it w,as the very typeiof .what one sees in a. comic -opera. One jsash.flf the little window lay ojoen and showed Beecher the figmre of a very small old man, who, in a long dressing-gown to draw. £Fhe old man .examined .the writing, '*he signature, and .then ike sea}, handing the, document bauk when he had .fiaished, muttering *t© himself, "Ah, der Davis — der.DavisJ" "Eou knowimy .friend-very intimately, lhaliave'.p'iasked.Beecher.. DAVJBNPOBT JTOXX. 375 " I belief I .do-^I sbtiKef I .don," said ihe, with a iow chuckle to himself. " So he mentioned to me, and added one or two Etfte matters on. which I was to ask you for some information. But first ibhifl ibifl — you can let me have these two thousand florins 2" " And what do ihe Jio now, der Davis'?" asked vfche Jew, not heeding the question. " "Well, I suppose he rubs on pretty muchtheisame aB ever !" said Beecher, in spuae confiasixm. " Taas — yaas — he ri*b on — andheaotb off, too, sometimes— ha ! ha! ha!" laughed out the old man, with a fiendish eackle. "Ach, der Davis!" Without knowing in what sense to Ifcake the words, Baeeher did not exactly lite them, and as ilittle was he pleased with that singular recurremeede goot gesuadheit— what you call it?" " To be sure the does— he .did never apeak tome df a daughter." " Whether he did or mot— there she is, that's all I ikaow." 'The Jew shook his head, and sought -jefiage in his former muttering of '"Aeb, der Davis!" " As far as not telling you about his daughter, I can say he aiever tola me, and I fancy -we were about as intimate as most people; but the fact is as I tell you." Another sigh was aB 'his answer, and tBeectar was fast reaching the 'limit of his patience. 376 DAVENPORT DUNN. '! Daughter, or no daughter, I want a matter of a couple of thou- sand florins — no objection to a trifle more, of course — and wish to know can you let me have them ?" " The Margraf was here two week ago, and he say to me, ' Laza- rus,' say he—' Lazarus, where is your goot friend Davis ?' ' High- neBs,' say I, ' dat I know not.' Den he say, ' I will find him, if I go to Jerusalem ;' and I say, ' Go to Jerusalem.' " "What did he want with him ?" " "What he want ? — what every one want, and what, nobody get, except how he no like — ha ! ha ! ha ! Ach, der Davis !" Beecher rose from his seat, uncertain how to take this continued inattention to his demand. He stood for a moment in hesitation, his eyes wandering over the walls where the pictures were hanging. " Ah ! if you do care for art, now you suit yourself, and all for a noting! I sell all dese— dat Gerard Dow, dese two Potters, de leetle Cuyp — a veritable treasure, and de Mieris — de best he ever painted, and de rest, wit de landschaft of Both, for eighty tousand seven hundred florins. It is a schenk— -a gift away — noting else." " Tou forget, my excellent friend Stein," said Beecher, with more assurance than he had yet assumed, " that it was to receive, and not spend, money I came here this morning." " Tou do a leetle of all de two — a leetle of both, so to say," replied the Jew. " "What moneys you want ?" " Come, this is speaking reasonably. Davis's letter mentions a couple of thousand florins ; but if you are inclined to stretch the amount to five, or even four thousand, we'll not fall out about the terms." "How you mean — no fall out about de terms?" said the other, sharply. " I meant that for a stray figure or so, in the way of discount, we shouldn't disagree. Tou may, in fact, make your own bargain." " Make my own bargain, and pay myself, too," muttered the Jew. " Ach, der Davis, how he would laugh ! — ha ! ha ! ha !" " Well, I don't see much to laugh at, old gent, except it be at my own folly, to stand here so long chaffering about these paltry two thousand florins. And now, I say, ' Tea or nay, will you book up, or not ?'" " Will you buy de Cuyp, and de Wouvermans, and de Ostade ? — dat is de question." " Egad, if you furnish the ready, I'll buy the Cathedral and the Cursaal. I'm not particular as to the investment when the cash is easily come at." DATENPOKT DUNN. 377 " De cash is very easy to come at," said the Jew, with a strange grin. "You're a trump, Lazarus!" cried Beecher, in ecstasy at his good fortune. " If I had known you some ten years ago, I'd have been another man to-day. I was always looking out for one really fair, honest-hearted fellow to deal with, but I never met with him till now." " How you have it — gold or notes ?" said Lazarus. " "Well, a little of both, I think," said Beecher, his eyes greedily devouring the glittering little columns of gold before him. " How your title ? — how your name ?" asked Stein, taking up a pen. " My name is Annesley Beecher. Tou may write me the ' Honour- able Annesley Beecher.' " " Lord of " " I'm not Lord of anything. I'm next in succession to a Peerage, that's all." " He call you de Viscount- 1 forget de name." "Lackington, perhaps ?" " Taas, dat is de name ; and say, give him de moneys for his bill. Now, here is de acceptance, and here you put your sign, across dis." " I'll write Annesley Beecher, with all my heart ; but I'll not write myself Lackington." " Den you no have de moneys, nor de Cuyp, nor de Ostade," said the Jew, replacing the pen in the ink-bottle. " Just let me ask you, old boy, how would it benefit you that I should commit a forgery ? Is that the way you like to do business ?" " I do know mysel how I like my business to do, and no man teach me." " What the devil did Davis mean, then, by sending me on this fool's errand ? He gave me a distinct intimation that you'd cash my acceptance ' ' " Am I not ready ? Tou never go and say to der Davis dat I re- fuse it ! Ah, der Davis !" and he sighed as if from the very bottom of his heart. " I'll tell him frankly that you made it a condition I was to sign a name that does not belong to me — that I'll tell him." " "What care he for dat ? Der Davis write his own name on it and pay it hisself." "Oh! and Davis was also to endorse this bill, was he?" asked Beecher. " I should tink he do ; oderwise I scarce give you de moneys." 378 DAVENPORT JHJ3SJT. "That, indeed, makes some difference. Jfot in reality that it wouldn't be just as much a forgery ; but if the bill come back to Grog's. own hands—" ".&.eh, <to a thing or two, though you don't suspect it. I ..only wise to the aatural Jly, .and no mistake." " I make no mistake ; I take vaary goot care of dat !" said Lazaras, rising, and taking off his fee,*to say adieu. "Jewish you >de vaary goot day." Beecher turned away, with a stiff salutation, into "the garden. He was .angry with Davis, with himself, and with the whole world. It was a rare event in his life to see gold so much within his 'reach and yet not available, just for. a -acruple— =a mere scruple — for, after all, what was it else ? Writing " Lackington" meant nothing, if Lacking- ton were never ±0 daee, much less to pay the .bill. Qnee " taken up," as it was sure, to be by Grog, what signified it if the words across the acceptance were Lackington some ten or twelve years back, and a nice game I've .made with ihimself. JSever -had : siuah a golden «gp~ portanity as -this presented itself. JNever before had be ; seen 'the man who so generously proffered iis services. .It was. ask sand have. Was he to reject such good t&rfcuiae:?-— was he to iuim his back on the very first piece of kick ihat bad ever befellen 3aim, ? Wibat heart- burnings might he be storing up for future years when he leaked back to the time that, 'with a ■word,ilije!imglit bave made his fortune ! " But are you quite sure, friend Lazarus, that if I say eight or iten 380 BATENPOET DUNN. thousand — for I don't want more— Davis will be as willing to back the bill?" " I am quite sure." " "Well, now, I am not so very certain of that, and as it is Davis will have to book up, it might be safer, perhaps, that I didn't go beyond the amount he mentions — eh ?" " As you will — as you please yourself. I only say, dere is der Herr Davis's name ; he send it to me and say, ' Milord will do de rest.' " " So that he sent you a blank acceptance ?" cried Beecher, in amazement. " Yaas, just as you see — ' Christopher Davis,' and de flourish as usual. Ach, der Davis !" and he sighed once more. The man who held Grog's signature on a blank stamp assumed no common shape in Annesley Beecher's eyes, and he continued to gaze on the old man with a strange sense of awe and astonishment. If he had not the document there before him on the table he would not have believed it. The trustful courage of Van Amburg, who used to place his head in the lion's mouth, seemed poor in comparison with such heroic boldness as this ! and he gazed at the writing in a sort of fascination. " And Grog actually sent you that over by letter ?" asked he again. " Taas, as you see," was the calm answer. " Well, here goes then, Abraham — Lazarus, I mean ; make it out for a matter of — five — no, eight — hang it, let us say ten thousand florins when we are about it ! Ten thousand, at six months — eh ?" "Better at tree months — we can always renew," said Stein, calmly. " Of course ; and by that time we may want a little more liquor in the decanter — eh ! old boy ?" said Beecher, laughing joyfully. " To be sure, vaary mush more liquor as you want it." " What a brick !" said Beecher, clapping him on the shoulder in all the ecstasy of delight. " Dere !" said the Jew, as he finished writing, " all is done ; only to say where it be paid — what bank at London." " Well, that is a bit of a puzzle, I must own I" said Beecher, rubbing his chin with an air of doubt and hesitation. " Where do de Lord Lackington keep his account ?" asked the Jew ; and the question was so artfully posed that Beecher answered promptly, " Harmer and Gore's, Lombard-street, or Pall-Mali, whichever you like." DAVENPOKT DUNN. 381 " Harmer and Gore. I know dem vaary well — that will do ; you do sign.your name dere." , "I 'wish I. could persuade you that Annesley Beecher , would t be enough — eh?" " Tou write de name as der Davis say, andno.oder !" " Here goes, then ! ' In for a penny,' as the proverb, says," mut- tered he; and in a bold, dashing hand wrote "Lackington" across the bill. " Ah !" said the Jew, as he examined it with his glass, and scanned every letter over and over; "and now, vat you say for de Cuyp, and de Mieris, and de Ostade — vill you take em all, as I say?" " I'll think over it— I'll reflect a bit first, Master Stein. As. for pictures, they!re rather an encumbrance when a man hasn't a house to hang them in." . "Tou have de vaary fine house in town, and an oder vaary fine house in de country, beside a what you call box— shoot-box — — " " Nothing of the kind, Lazarus. I haven't a thing as big as the crib we are standing in. Tour mind is always running upon my brother ; but there's a wide difference . between our fortunes, I assure you. He drew the first ticket in the. lottery of life ; and, by the way, that reminds me of something in Q-rog's letter that I was to ask you." And Beecher took the epistle from his pocket and ran his eye over it. " Ah ! here it is ! ' Ask Stein what are the average runs at rouge-et-noir ? what are the signs of an intermitting game ? and what are the longest runs he remembers on one colour?' Can you answer me these ?" , ■ " Some of dem I have here," ,said Stein, taking down from a shelf a small vellum-bound volume, fastened with a padlock and chain, the key of which he wore attached to his watch. " Here is de grand 'arcanum,'" said he,, laughing ; "here are de caleuls made in de experience of forty-one year! Where is de man in. Europe can lay as mush as dat? In dis book is recounted de great game of de Due de Brancas, where he broke de bank every night of de week till Saturdayr-rtwo million, tree hundred tousand francs ! Caumartin, the first croupier, shot hisself, and Nogeot go mad. He reckon de moneys in de casette, for when he say on Friday night, ' Monseig- neur,' say he, ' we have not de full sum here— there's one hundred and seventy tousand francs too little,' de Due reply, ' Never mind, mon cher Monsieur Nogeot, I am noways pressed — don't distress your- self—only let it be pay, before I go home to bed.' Nogeot lose his reason when he hear it. Ah ! here is de whole ' Geschichte,' and here de table of chances." 382' DAVENPORT DU1TN. Beeehergazed' on the precious volume as Aladdin- might have 1 done on the lamp. It was the mystic key to untold rashes. "With that marvellous book a man needed no more in Mfe ; there lay all the "cabals," all "the martingales," that years of intense toil and deep study had discovered'. To win that knowledge, too, what hearts had been broken — what dteBolartion^-what death! It was- a record of martyrs in his eyes', and he really regarded it with a. sort of rapturous veneration. Old Lazarus did not fail to detect the expression of wonderment and admiration. He saw depicted there the glowing- ecstasy that all the triumphs of high art could not call up. The vigorous 1 energy of "Wouvermaus, the glowing colouring of Ciiyp, the mellow richness of Mieris, had not touched that nature which now vibrated in every chord to the appeal of Fortune. It was the submissive; worship of a devotee before some-sacred relic! 1 Stein read that gaze, and tracked its every motive, and with a- solemn gesture he clasped the volume and locked' it. " But you are surely going to show me — I mean, you are about; to tell me the answer to these questions ?" Stein shook his head dubiously, as he saidi " Dat is my Eleinod, my idol — in dat book lie de. secret of secrets-, and I say to myself, ' Lazarus, be poor — be destitute; — be houseless to-morrow, and you know how to get rich- if you will. De great law of Chances— de rule dat. guide" what we call ' Lucf— dere it is written ! 1 have but to say 1 will' have, and I have ! ; "When I die, L will burn it, or have it lay wit me in my grave." " It's not possible you- could' do this!'" cried Beecher; in horror : far less of indignation' had it cost him to hear that any one should carry? out of the world with him the cure of cancer, of cholera, or some such dread scourge of poor humanity. The black-hearted selfishness of' such a crime seemed without a parallel, and for a second' ortwo, as he looked at the decrepid object before hirn^ and saw the lonely spot, the isolation, and 1 the- propitfous moment, a> strange wild thought flashed across his mind that it might be not ordy par- donable, but praiseworthy, to seize upon and earry it off by farce. Whether the old man read what was passing' within him is hard to say, but he returned the other's loole as steadily and as fiercely, and Beecher felt abashed and cowed. "I'll tell you what, Stein," said he, after a pause; "I'll buy that same old 1 volume of yours, just for: the curiosity of the thing, and I'll make- you a sporting oflfep— I'll give you ten thousand francs for it !" DAVENPORT' DTJNN. 883 A low wailing whistle of utter contempt was all the Jew replied. "Well', it's & splendid bid, if you come to think of it ; for, just suppose it be everything you say — and I own I can't believe it iff — but suppose 1 it were, who is' to guarantee the Continuance of these great public play-tables ? All the Governments of Europe are setting then* faces against' them — not a year passes without one or two being closed. This very spring there was a talk of suppressing play at Baden. Who- can tell what the first outbreak of fanatic zeal ; may not effect ?" "'Wo, no. So long ais men live, dey will do tree 1 tings — make- love, make 1 war, and gamble. When dey give up dese, de world shut up." There was a- truthful force about this Beeeher felt could not be gainsaid, and he stood silent and confuted. There was another ap- peal that he had not tried, and he resolved to neglect nothing that gave even the faintest chance of success. He addressed himself to the' Jew's goodnesB of heart— to the benevolence that he knew must have its home in his nature. To' what end, therefore, should he earry to the grave 1 , or destroy, a secret that might be a blessing to thou- sands*? He depicted, not without knowledge, some of the miseries' of the man " forgotten of Portune" — the days of fevered anxiety — the nights of agonising torture, as, half maddenedtby his losses, he played wildly, recklessly on — suicide in all its darkest forms ever present to his aching faculties, while all this time one glance within that little bonk would save him. And he wound up all by a burst of enthu- siastic praise of a man who could thus transmit happiness to genera- tions' unborn. * " I never wish to sell dat book. I mean it alway to die wit myself; but if you. will give me one tousamd pounds,, it is yours. If you: de- lay,. I will- say two tousandB." " Done — I take it. Of course a bill will do— eh ?" " Taas, I will take a bill — a bill at tree months. When it is yours, I will tell you dat you are de luckiest man in all Europe. Tou have dere, in dat leetle volume, all man strive for, fight for, cheat, for, die for!" As he said this, he sat down again at his desk to write the accept- ance Beeeher was to sign, while the other, withdrawing into the window recess, peered eagerly into the pages of the precious book. " Mind," said the Jew, "you no let any one see de ' Cabal.' If it be once get abroad, de bank will change de play. Tou just carry in your head de combinations, and you go in, and win de millions dat you want at de time." 384 DATENPOKT BUNS'. ". Just so," said Beecher, in ecstasy, the very thought of the golden cataract sending a thrill of rapture through him. " I suppose, how- ever, I may show it to Davis ?" " Ach, der Davis, yaas — der Davis can see it," said the Jew, with a laugh whose significance it were very hard to interpret. " Dere now," said Stein, handing him the pen, "write de name dere as on de oder." " Still Lackington, I suppose — eh?" asked Beecher. " Taas — -just de same," said Stein, gravely. " ' Just as good for a sheep as a lamb,' as the proverb says," mut- tered Beecher. And he dashed off the name with a reckless flourish. " I'll tell you one thing, Master Stein," said he, as he buttoned up the magic volume in the breast of his coat, " if this turn out the good dodge you say it is, I'll behave handsomely to you. I pledge you my word of honour, I'll stand to you for double — treble the sum you have got written there. You don't know the fellow you're deal- ing with — very few know him, for the matter of that — but though he has got a smart lesson or two in life, he has good stuff in him still ; and if— I say if, because, of course, all depends on tliat — if I can give the bank at Hamburg a spring in the air with the aid of this, I'll not forget you, old boy." " Tou make dem all spring in de air ! — Ems, Wiesbaden, Baden — all go up togeder !" And the Jew laughed with the glee of a demon. " Not that I want to hurt any one — not that I'd like to squeeze a fellow too hard," broke in Beecher, suddenly, for a quick thrill of superstitious fear — the gambler's innate conscience — shot through him, and made him tremble to think that, by a chance word, or thought, he might disgust the Fortune he would propitiate. " No, no ; my motto is, ' Live and let live !' There's room for us all !" And with the utterance of a sentiment he believed so truly generous, he took leave of the Jew, and departed. DAVENPORT DTJITN. 385 CHAPTEE XLVIII. A VILLAGE NEAK THE KHINE. It was at a little village called Holbach, about fifteen miles from the right bank of the Ehine, Grog Davis had taken up his quarters while awaiting the arrival of his daughter. Near as it was to that great high road of Europe, scarcely out of earshot of whizzing steamers and screaming trains, the spot was wonderfully secluded and un- visited. A little trout stream, known to a few, who treasured the secret like fishermen, made the inn resorted to in the months of May and June ; but for the rest of the year the " Golden Hook" had few customers, and the landlord almost abdicated his functions till spring came round again. The house, originally intended for a mill, was built over the river itself, so that the indolent angler might actually have fished from the very window. The pine-clad mountains of Nassau enclosed the narrow glen, which straggled irregularly along for miles, now narrowing to a mere strip, now expanding into little plains of fertile meadow-land, with neat cottages and speckled cattle scattered around them. A narrow belt of garden flanked the river, on whose edge a walk of trellised vines was fashioned — a charming spot in the sultry heat of summer, with its luxuriant shade above and the rippling stream below. Davis had seen the place years before in some hurried journey ; but his retentive mind carried a full memory of the spot, and he soon found that it comprised "all he was in search of — it was easy of access, secret, and cheap. Only too well pleased to meet with a guest at this dead season of the year, they gave up to him the choicest apartment, and treated him with every solicitude and attention. His table was supplied well, almost luxuriously ; the good wine of Ettleberg, given in liberal profusion ; the vine alley converted into a pistol-gallery for his use ; and all for such a sum per diem as would not have satisfied a waiter at the Clarendon. But it was the calm seclusion, the perfect isola- tion, that gratified him most. Let him stroll which way he would, he never chanced upon a traveller. It was marvellous, indeed, how such a place could have escaped that prying tribe of ramblers which Eng- land each year sends forth to wrangle, dispute, and disparage every- thing over Europe ; and yet here were precisely the very objects they 2 o §86 DAVENPORT DUNN. usually sought after — beautiful scenery, a picturesque peasantry, and a land romantic in all its traits and traditions. Not that Grog cared for these : rocks, waterfalls, ruins, leafy groves, or limpid streams, made no appeal to him. He lived for the life of men, their passions, and their ambitions. He knew some people admired this kind of thing, and there were some who were fond of literature ; others liked pictures ; others, again, fancied old coins. He had no objection. They were, if not very profitable, at least harmless tastes. All he asked was, not to be the companion of such dreamers. "Give me the fellow that knows life," would he say; and I am afraid that the definition of that same "life" would have in- cluded some things scarcely laudable. If the spot were one to encourage indolence and ease, Davis did, not yield to this indulgence. He arose early ; walked for health ; shot with the pistol for practice ; studied his martingale for the play- table ; took an hour with the small-sword with an old maltre d'armes whom he found in the village ; and without actually devoting himself to it as a task, practised himself in German by means of conversa^ tion ; and lastly, he thought deeply and intently over the future. 3?oc speculations of this kind he had no mean capacity. If he knew little of the human heart in its higher moods, he understood it well in its. short-comings and its weaknesses ; — to what temptations a man might yield, when to offer them, and how, were mysteries he had often brooded over. In forecastings of this order, therefore, Davis exer- cised himself. Strange eventualities, " cases of conscience," that I would fain believe never occurred to you, dear reader, nor to me, arose before him, and he met them manfully. The world is generous in its admiration of the hard-worked minister, toiling night-long at his desk, receiving and answering his twenty despatches daily, and rising in the House to explain this,- refute that, confirm the other, with all the clearness of an orator and all the calmness of a clerk ; but after all he is but a fly-wheel in that machine of government, of which there are some hundred other component parts, all well fitting and proportioned. Precis writers and private secretaries cram, colleagues advise him. The routine of official life hedges him in his proper groove, and if not overcome by indolence or affected by zeal, he can scarcely blunder. Not so' your man of straits and emergency, your fellow living by his wits, and wresting from the world, that fancies it does not want him r reward and recognition. It is no marvel if a proud three-decker sail round the globe ; but very different is our astonishment if a cock- boat come safely from the China Seas, or brave the stormy passage. DAVENPOBT DUNN. 387 round the Cape. Such a craft as this was Grog, his own captain : himself his crew, he had neither owner nor underwriter ; and yet, amidst the assembled navies of the world,, he would have shown his bunting ! The unbroken calm ef his present existence was most favourable to these musings, and left him to plan- bis campaign' in perfect quiets. "Whether the people of the, inn regarded him as a great minister in disgrace come by h$rd . study ? to retrieve a lost position, a man of science deeply immersed in some abstruse problem, or a distinguished . author seeking isolation > fat the freer exereise of his imagination,_they treated him not only with great, respect, but a sort of deference was shown in their studious effort to maintain the silence and stillness around.. "When -he was supposed- to .be at his studies, not a voice was heard, not a footfall on the stairs. There is no such flattery to your man of scapes and accidents, your thorough adventurer, as that respectful observance that implies he is a person of condition. It is like giving of free will'to the highwayman the purse he expected to have a .fight :for. Davis delighted in these marks of ' deference;, .and day by day grew more eager in exacting them. , , : " I heard some noise onjfcsuie there,.this morning; Carl," said-he to the waiter ; '* wnat iw'as the ; meaning "°f it ?" For a moment or two the waiter hesitated to explain, but after a little went on to speak of a stranger who had been a resident of the inn for some months back without ever payiflg Iris Trill; the law, singularly enough,' not giving the landlord the power, of turning Mm adrift;. but simply of eeasing to afford him sustenance, and waiting , for some opportunity of his leaving the house, tp : forbid. his •re-entering it. Davis-was much amused at this curious piece of legislation, by which a moneyless guest could be starred out, but not; 'expelled, and ftyt many questions as to the stranger, his age, appearance;. and' nation!. All the waiter knew was, that he was a venerable-looking man, portly, advanced in life, with specious manners, a. soft voice, and a benevolent smile; as to his country, he couldn't guess. He spoke several languages, and his German was, though peculiar, godd^hoiigh to be a native's. " But how does he live," said Davis ; " he must eat ?" " There's the puzzle of it !" exclaimed Carl ; " for a while he used to watch while I was serving a breakfast or a dinner, and sallying out of his room, which is at the end of the corridor, he'd make off, sometimes with a cutlet — perhaps a chicken, now a plate of spinach, now an omelette, till, at last, I never ventured up-staira with the tray without some one to protect it. . Not that even this always 2c2 388 DAVEOTOBT DUSN. sufficed, for he was occasionally desperate, and actually seized a dish by force." " Even these chances, taken at the best, would scarcely keep a man alive," said Davis. " Nor would they ; but we suspect he must have means of getting out at night and making a ' raid ' over the country. "We con- stantly hear of fowls carried off; cheese and fruit stolen. There he is now, creeping along the gallery. Listen ! I have left some apples outside." "With a gesture to enforce caution, Davis arose, and placed a percussion-cap on a pistol, a motion of his hand sufficing to show that the weapon was not loaded. " Open the door gently," said he ; and the waiter, stealing over noiselessly, turned the handle. Scarcely had the door been drawn back, when Grog saw the figure of a man, and snapped off the pistol. At the same moment he sprang from the spot, and rushed out to the corridor. The stranger, to all seeming, was not even startled by the report, but was gravely occupied in examining his sleeve, to see if he had been struck. He lifted up his head, and Davis, with a start, cried out, " "What, Paul !— Paul Classon ! Is this possible ?" " Davis — old fellow ! — do I see you here ?" exclaimed the other, in a deep and mellow voice, utterly devoid of irritation or even ex- citement. " Come in — come in here, Paul," said Davis, taking him by the arm ; and he led him within the room. " Little I suspected on whom I was playing this scurvy trick." " It was not loaded," said the other, coolly. "Of course not." "I thought so," said he, with an easy smile; "they've had so many devices to frighten me." " Come, Paul, old fellow, pour yourself out a tumbler of that red wine, while I cut you some of this ham : we'll have plenty of time for talk afterwards." The stranger accepted the invitation, but without the slightest show of eagerness or haste. Nay, he unfolded his napkin leisurely, and fastened a corner in one button-hole — as some old-fashioned epicures have a trick of doing. He held his glass, too, up to the light, to enjoy the rich colour of the wine ; and smacked his lips as he tasted it with the air of a connoisseur. " A Burgundy, Davis, eh ?" asked he, sipping again. " I believe so. In truth, I know little about these wines." BATENPOET DUNN. 389 " Ob, yes, a ' Pomard,' and very good of its kind. Too loaded, of course, for the time of year, except 1 for such. palate3 as England rears." Davis had now covered his friend's plate with ham and capon ; and at last was pleased to see him begin his breakfast. "We are not about to impose upon our reader th9 burden of knowing more of Mr. Classon than is requisite for the interests of our story ; but while he eats the first regular meal he has tasted for two months and more, let us say a word or so about him. He was a clergyman, whose life had been one continued history of mis- chances. Occasionally, the sun of prosperity would seem disposed to shine genially on his head ; but, for the most part, his lot was to walk with dark aud lowering skies above him. If he held any preferment it was to quarrel with his rector, his dean, or his bishop — to be cited before commissions — tried by surrogates — pronounced contumacious — suspended, and Heaven knows what else. He was everlastingly in litigation with churchwardens and parish authorities, discovering rights of which he was defrauded, and privileges of which he was deprived. None like him to ferret out Acts of Edward or Henry, and obsolete bequests of long-buried founders of this, that, or t'other, of which the present guardians were little better than pickpockets. Adverse decisions and penalties pressing on him, he grew libellous, he spoke, wrote, and published all manner of de- famatory things, accused every one of peculation, fraud, and false- hood, and, as the spirit of attack strengthened in him by exercise, menaced this man with prosecution, and that, with open exposure. Trials by law, and costs, accumulated against him, and he was only out of gaol, here, to enter it again, there. Erom the Courts " above" ■he soon descended to those " below ;" he became dissipated and disso- lute, his hireling pen scrupled at nothing, and he assailed any thing or anyone, to order. Magistrates "had him up" as the author of threatening letters or begging epistles. To-day, he was the mock secretary of an imaginary charity ; to-morrow, he'd appear as a dis- tressed missionary going out to some island in the Pacific. He was eternally before the world, until the paragraph that spoke of him grew to be headed by the words, " The Reverend Paul Classon again!" or, more briefly, " Paul Classon's last !" His pen, all this while, was his sole subsistence, and what a bold sweep it took ! — im- peachment of Ministers, accusation of theft, forgery, intimation of even worse crimes against the highest names in the realm, startling announcements of statesmen bribed, ambassadors corrupted, pasqui- nades against bishops and judges, libellous stories of people in private 390 DAVENPORT BUNS'. life, prize-fights, prophetic almanacks, mock missionary journals, stanzas to celebrate quack remedies — even street ballads were amongst his literary efforts; while, personally, he presided at low singing establishments, and was the president of innumerable societies in localities only known to the police. It was difficult to take up a newspaper without finding him either reported drunk and disorderly in the police-sheet, obstructing the thoroughfare by a crowd as- sembled to hear him, having refused to pay for his dinner or his bed, assaulted the landlady, or, crime of crimes, used intemperate language to " Gt 493." At last, they got actually tired of trying him for begging, and imprisoning him for battery — the law was wearied out ; but the world also had its patience exhausted, and Paul saw that he must conquer a new hemisphere. He came abroad. What a changeful life was it now that he led — at one time a tutor, at another a commissionaire for an hotel, a railway porter, a travelling ser- vant, a police spy, the doorkeeper of a circus company, editor of an Eng- Esh journal, veterinary, language master, agent for patent medicines, picture-dealer, and companion to a nervous invalid, which, as Paul said, meant a furious maniac. There is no telling what he went through of debt and difficulty, till the police actually preferred passing him quietly over the frontier to following up with penalty so incurable an offender. In this way had he wandered about Europe for years, the terror of legations, the pestilence of charitable committees. •Contributions to enable the Rev. Paul Olasson to redeem his clothes, his watch, his divinity library, to send him to England, to the Andes, to Afriea, figured everywhere. I dare not say how often he had been rescued out of the lowest pit of despondency, or snatched like a brand from the burning ; in fact, he lived in a pit, and was always on fire. " I am delighted," said Davis, as he replenished his friend's plate — " I am delighted to see that you have the same good, hearty appe- tite as of old, Paul." "Ay, Kit," said he, with a gentle sigh, "the appetite has been more faithful than the dinner ; on the same principle, perhaps, that the last people who desert us are our creditors !" " I suspect you've had rather a hard time of it," said Davis, com- passionately. " Well, not much to complain of — not anything that one would call hardships," said Olasson, as he pushed his plate from him and proceeded to light a cigar ; " we're all strugglers, Kit, that's the fact of it." " I suppose it is ; but it ain't very disagreeable to be a straggler with ten thousand a year." DAVINPOET DTTNN. 391 " If the having and enjoying were always centred in the same individual," said Classon, slowly, "what you say would he unanswer- able ; but it's not so, Kit. No, no ; the fellows who really enjoy life never have anything. They are, so to say, guests on a visit to this earth, come to' pass a few months pleasantly, to put up any- where, and be content with everything." Grog shook his head dis- sentingly, and the other went on: " Who knows the truth of what I am saying better than either of us? How many broad acres did your father or mine bequeath us ? "What debentures, railroad shares, mining scrip, or mortgages ? And yet, Kit, if we come to make up the score of pleasant days and glorious nights, do you fancy that any Noble Lord of them all would dispute the palm with us? Oh," said he, rapturously, " give me the unearned enjoyments of life — pleasures that have never cost me a thought to provide, nor a six- pence to pay for ! Pass the wine, Kit — that bottle is better than the other;" and he smaeked his lips, while his eyes closed in a sort of dreamy rapture. " I'd like to hear something of your life, Paul," said Davis. " I often saw your name in the limes and the Post, but I'd like to have your own account of it." " My dear Kit, I've had fifty lives. It's the man yon should un- derstand — the fellow that is here," and he slapped his broad chest as he spoke. " As for mere adventures, what are they ? Squalls that never interfere with the voyage — not even worth entering in the ship's log." " Where's your wife, Paul ?" asked Davis, abruptly, for he was half impatient under the aphorising tone of his companion. " When last I heard of her," said Classon, slowly, as he eyed his glass to the light, " she was at Chicago — if that be the right prosody of it — lecturing on ' Woman's Eights.' Nobody knew the subject better than Fanny." " I heard she was a very clever woman," said Davis. " Very clever," said Classon ; " discursive ; not always what the JVench call ' consequent,' but certainly clever, and a sweet poetess." There was a racy twinkle in that reverend eye as he said the last words, so full of malicious drollery that Davis could not help re- marking it ; but all Classon gave for explanation was, " This to her health and happiness !" and he drained off a bumper. " And yours, Kit — what of her?" asked he. " Dead these many years. Do you remember her ?" " Of course I do. I wrote the article on her first appearance at the Surrey. What a handsome creature she was then ! It was I pre- 392 DAVEOTOBT DU1W. dieted her great success ; it was I that saved her from light comedy parts, and told her to play Lady Teazle !" " I'll show you her born image to-morrow — her daughter," said Davis, with a strange choking sensation that made him cough; " she's taller than her mother — more style also." "Very difficult, tfiat— very difficult, indeed," said Classon, gravely. " There was a native elegance about her I never saw equalled ; and then her walk, the carriage of the head, the least gesture, had all a certain grace that was fascination." " Wait till you see Lizzy," said Davis, proudly ; " you'll see these all revived." " Do you destine her for the boards, Kit?" asked Classon, care- lessly. " Tor the stage ? No, of course not," replied Davis, rudely. " And yet these are exactly the requirements would fetch a high price just now. Beauty is not a rare gift in England ; nor are form and symmetry ; but except in the highly born there is a lamentable de- ficiency in that easy gracefulness of manner, that blended dignity and softness, that form the chief charm of woman. If she be what you say, Kit — if she be, in short, her mother's daughter — it is a downright insanity not to bring her out." " I'll not hear of it ! That girl has cost me very little short of ten thousand pounds — ay, ten thousand pounds — schooling, masters, and the rest of it. She's no fool, so I take it, it ain't thrown away ! As regards beauty, I'll stake fifteen to ten, in hundreds, that, taking your stand at the foot of St. James's-street on a Drawing-room day, you don't see her equal. I'm ready to put down the money to-morrow, and that's giving three to two against the field ! And is that the girl I'm to throw away on the Haymarket ? She's a Derby filly, I tell you, Paul, and will be first favourite one of these days," " Faustum sit augurium!" said Classon, as he raised his glass in a theatrical manner, and then drained it off. " Still, if I be rightly informed, the stage is often the ante-chamber to the Peerage. The attractions that dazzle thousands form the centre of fascination for some one." x " She may find her way to a coronet without that," said Davis» rudely. " Ah, indeed !" said Paul, with a slight elevation of the eyebrow ; but though- his tone invited a confidence, the other made no further advances. " And now for yourself, Classon, what have you been at lately ?" said Davis, wishing to change the subject. " Literature and the arts. I have been contributing to a London JUVENPORT DUNN. 393 weekly, as a Crimean correspondent, with occasional letters from the gold diggings. I have been painting portraits, for a florin the head, till I have exhausted all the celebrities of the three villages near us. My editor has, I believe, run away, however, and supplies have ceased for some time back." " And what are your plans now ?" " I have some thoughts of going back to Divinity. These newly invented water-cure establishments are daily developing grander proportions, some have got German bands, some donkeys, some pleasure-boats, others rely upon lending libraries and laboratories, but the latest dodge is a chaplain." " But won't they know you, Paul ? Have not the newspapers 'blown you ?' " " Ah, Davis, my dear friend," said he, with a benevolent smile, " it's far easier to live down a bad reputation than to live up to a good one. I'd only ask a week — one week's domestication with the com- pany of these places — to show I was a martyred saint. I have, so to say, a perennial fount of goodness in my nature that has never failed me." " I remember it at school," said Davis, dryly. " You took the clever line, Kit, ' suum cuique ;' it would never have suited me. You were born to thrive upon men's weaknesses, mine the part to have a vested interest in their virtues." " If you depend upon their virtues for a subsistence, I'm not sur- prised to see you out at elbows," said Davis, roughly. " Not so, Kit — not so," said the other, blandly, in rebuke. " There's a great deal of weak good-nature always floating about life. The world is full of fellows with ' Pray take me in' written upon them." " I can only vouch for it very few have come in my way," said Davis, with a harsh laugh. " So much the better for them" said Paul, gravely. A pause of considerable duration now ensued between them, broken at last by Davis abruptly saying, " Is it not a strange thing it was only last night I was saying to myself, ' What the deuce has become of Holy Paul, the newspapers have seemingly forgotten him ? It can't be that he is dead ?' " " Lazarus only sleepeth," said Classon ; " and indeed my last eleven weeks here seem little other than a disturbed sleep." Continuing his own train of thought, Davis went on : " If I could chance upon him now, he's just the fellow I want, or rather that I may want." " If it is a lampoon, or a satire, you're thinking of, Kit, I've given them up ; I make no more^blistering ointments, but turn all my 394 -BAYIMOBT DUNN. skill to balsams. They give no trouble in compounding, and pay even better. Ah, Davis, my worthy friend, what- a mistake it is to suppose that a man must live by his talents, while his real resource iB his temperament. Eor a life of easy enjoyment, that blessed in- dolence that never knew a care, it is heart, not head, is needed." " All I can say is, that with the fellows I've been most with, heart had very little to do with them, and the best head was the one that least trusted his neighbours." " A narrow view, my dear friend — a narrow view, take my word for it ; as one goes on in life he thinks better of it." A malicious grin was all the answer Davis made to this remark. At last he turned his eyes full upon the other, and in a low but distinct voice said, " Let us have no more of this, Paul. If we are to play, let us play, as the Yankees say, without the ' items' — no cheating on either side. Don't try the Grand Benevolence dodge with rne — don't. When I said a while ago I might want you, it was no more than I meant. You may be able to render me a service — a great service." " Say how," said Classon, drawing his chair nearer to him — " say how, Kit, and you'll not find the terms exorbitant." " It's time enough to talk about the stakes when we are sure the match will come off," said Davis, cautiously. "All I'll say for the present is, I may want you." Classon took out a small and very greasy-looking note-book from his waistcoat pocket, and with his pencil in hand said, " About what time are you likely to need me ? Don't be particular as to a day, or a week, but just in a rough-guessing sort of way say when." " I should say in less than a month from this time — perhaps within a fortnight." "All right," said Classon, closing his book, after making a brief note. " You smile," said he, blandly, " at my methodical habits, but I have been a red-tapist all my life, Kit. I don't suppose you'll find any man's papers, letters, documents, and so forth in such trim order as mine — all labelled, dated, and indexed. Ah ! there is a great phi- losophy in this practical equanimity, take my word for it there is." " How far are we from Neuweid here ?" asked Davis, half pet- tishly, for every pretension of his reverend friend seemed to jar upon his nerves. " About sixteen or eighteen miles, I should say." " I must go or send over there to-morrow," continued Davis. " The postmaster sends me word that several letters have arrived, some to my address, some to my care. Could you manage to drive across?" DAVENFOET BOTTir, 393 " "Willingly ; only remember, that once I leave this blessed sanc- tuary I may find the door closed against my return. They've a strange legislation here " " I know— I've heard of it," broke in Davis. " I'll guarantee everything, so that you need have no fears on that score. Start at daybreak, and fetch back all letters you find there for me or for the Honourable Annesley Beecher." " The Honourable Annesley Beecher !" said Classon, as he wrote the name in his note-book. " Dear me ! the last time I heard that name was — let me see — fully twelve years ago. It was after that affair at Brighton. I wrote an article for the Heart of Oak, on the ' Morality of our Aristocracy.' How I lashed their vices, how I stigmatised their lives of profligacy and crime !" "You infernal old hypocrite!" cried Davis, with a half-angry laugh. " There was no hypocrisy in that, Kit. If I tell you that a statue is bad in drawing, or incorrect in anatomy, I never assert thereby that I myself have the torso of Hercules or the limbs of Antinous." " Leave people's vices alone, then ; they're the same as their debts — if you're not going to pay them, you've no right to talk about them." " Only on public grounds, Kit. Our duty to society, my dear friend, has its own requirements!" " Fiddlestick !" said Davis, angrily, as he pushed his glass from before him ; then, after a moment, went on : " Do you start early, so as to be back here before evening — my mind is running on it. There are letters of consequence waiting there for me. There's three Naps," said he, placing the gold pieces on the table. " You'll not want more." " Strange magnetism is the touch of gold to one's palm," said Classon, as he surveyed the money in the hollow of his hand. " How marvellous that these bits of stamped metal should appeal so forcibly to my inner consciousness." " Don't get drunk with them, that's all," said Davis, with a stem savagery of manner, as he arose from his seat. " There's my pass- port-r-you may have to show it at the office. And now, good-by, for I have a long letter to write to my daughter." Classon poured the last of the Burgundy into a tumbler, and drank it off, and hiccupping out, " I'll haste me to the Capitol!" left the 396 DAYEN20ET DTON. CHAPTEK XLIX. IMMINENT TIDINGS. It was a very wearisome day to Davis as he waited for the return of Paul Classon. Grog's was not a mind made for small suspicions or petty distrusts — he was a wholesale dealer in iniquity, and de- spised minute rogueries ; yet was he not altogether devoid of anxiety as hour by hour went over, and no sign of Classon. He tried to pass the time in his usual mode. He shot with the pistol, he fenced, he whipped the trout stream, he went over his "martingale" with the cards, but, somehow, everything went amiss with him. He only hit the bull's-eye once in three shots — he fenced wide — a pike carried off his tackle — and, worst of all, he detected a flaw in the great "Cabal,''' that, if not remediable, must render it valueless. " A genuine Friday, this !" muttered he, as he sauntered up a little eminence, from which a view might be had of the road for above a mile. " And what nonsense it is people saying they're not supersti- tious. I suppose I have as little of that kind of humbug about me as my neighbours ; yet I wouldn't play half-crowns at blind-hookey to-day. I'd not take the favourite even against a chance horse. I'd not back myself to leap that drain yonder; and why? just because I'm in, what the Erench call ' guignon.' There's no other word for it that ever I heard. These are the days Fortune says to a man, ' Shut up, and don't book a bet !' It's a wise fellow takes the warning. I know it so well, that I always prepare for a run against me, and as sure as I am here, I feel that something or other is going wrong else- where. Not a sign of him — not a sign !" said he, with a heavy sigh, as he gazed long and earnestly along the line of road. " He hasn't bolted, that I'm sure of; he'd not 'try that on' with me. He remem- bers to this very hour a licking I gave him at school. I know what it is, he's snug in a wine ' Schenke.' He's in for a big drink, the old beast, as if he couldn't get blind drunk when he came home. I think I see him holding forth to the boors, and telling them what an honour it is to them to sit in his company ; that he took a high class at Oxford, and was all but Bishop of Eh, is that he ? No, it's going t'other way. Confounded fool ! — but worse fool myself for trusting him. That's exactly what people would say : ' He gave Holy Paul DAYENPOET DTTKN. 397 three Naps, and expected to see him. come back sober !' Well, so I did ; and just answer me this : Is not all the work of this world done by rogues and vagabonds ? It suits them to be honest for a while ; they ride to order so long as they like the stable. Not a sign of him !" And with a comfortless sigh he turned back to the house. " I wish I knew how Lizzy was to-night !" muttered he, as he rested his head on his hand and sat gazing at her picture. " Ay, that is your own saucy smile, but the world will take that out of you* and put a puckered-up mouth and hard lines in its place, that it will, confound it ! And those eyes will have another kind of bright- ness in them, too, when they begin to read life glibly. My poor darling, I wish you could stay as you are. Where are you now, I wonder ? Not thinking of old Kit, I'm certain ! And yet, maybe, I wrong her — maybe she is just dwelling on long — Jong ago — home, and the rest of it. Ay, darling, that's what the lucky ones have in life,' and never so much as know their luck in having it. By Jove ! she is handsome!" cried he, as he held up the miniature in ecstasy before him. ' If she's so beautiful, Mr. Eoss, why don't she come to the Drawing-room ?' say the Court people. Ay, you'll see her there yet, or I'm not Kit Davis ! Don't be impatient, ladies ; make your running while the course is your own, for there's a clipper coming. I'd like to see where they'll be when Lizzy takes the field." And now in his pride he walked the room, with head erect and arms folded. It was only for a very short space, however, that these illu- sions withdrew him from his gloomier reveries, for with a start he suddenly recurred to all the anxieties of the morning, and once more isued forth upon the high road to look out for Classon. The setting sun sent a long golden stream of light down the road, on which not a living thing was to be seen. Muttering what were scarcely bless- ings on the head of his messenger, he strolled listlessly along. Few men could calculate the eventualities of life better or quicker than Davis. Give him the man and the opportunities, and he would- speedily tell you what would be the upshot. He knew thoroughly, well how far experience and temperament mould the daring spirit, and how the caution that comes of education tames down the wild influences suggested by temptation. " No," said he to himself, " though he had my passport and three Napoleons besides, he has not levanted. He is far too deep a fellow for that." At last, a low rumbling sound came up from the distance; he stopped and listened. It came and went at intervals, till at last he 398 DATEHPOBT BURN. could distinctly mark the noise of wheels and tie voice of. a man urging on his horse. Davis quickened- his pace, till in the grey half* light he descried a little one-horse carriage slowly advancing towards him. He could only see one man in it, but, as It eame nearer, he saw a heap af clothes, surmounted by what indicated the presence of. an- other in the bottom of the conveyance, and^Garog quickly read the in- cident by the aid of his own anticipation. There, indeed, lay Paul Classom, forgetful of the world and all its cares, his outstretched arm almost touching the wheel, and the heavy wooden shoe of the peasant grazing his. face. "Hasie got the letters ? Where are they ?" cried Davis, eagerly,', to the driver. " They're in his hat." Grog snatched it rudely from his head and found several letters of various sizes and shapes, and with what, even in that dim light/ seemed a variety of addresses and superscriptions. : " Are you certain none have fallen out or been lost on the road ?" said Davis, as he reckoned them over. " That I am," said the man,, "for at every jolt of the waggon he used to grip his hat and hold it fast as if it was for very life, till we. came to the last village. It was there he finished off 1 with a flask of Laubthaler that completely overcame him." " So, then, he was sober on leaving Neuweid ?" " He was im the so-called ' bemuazed' state '." said the man, with a half apologeticvair. " Take him down to the inn : throw him into the hay-yard— or the river, if you like," said Davisi, contemptuously, and turned away. Once in his own room, the candles lighted, the door locked, Davis sat down to the table on which the letters were thrown. Leisurely he took them up one by one and examined their superscriptions. " Little news in these," said he, throwing three or four to one side j " the old story — money seeking." And he mumbled out, " ' Tour ac- ceptance being duly presented this day at Messrs. Haggitts and Drudges, and no provision being made for payment of the same * It's like the burden of an old song in one's ears. "Who is this from ? Oh, Billy Peach, with some Doncaster news. I do wonder will the day ever come that will bring me good tidings by the post; I've paid many a pound in my life for letters, and I never yet chanced upon one that told me my uncle Peter had just died, leaving me all his estates in Jamaica, or that my aunt. Susan bequeathed to me all her Mexican stock and the shares in four tin mines. This is also from Peach, and marked ' immediate,' " and he broke it open. It contained only these DAVEEPORT DT7SN. 399 lines : " ' Dark is the word for a week or two still. On Tuesday your name will appear amongst the passengers for New York by the Persia. Saucy Sal is a dead break-down, and we net seven hundred safe ; Pot did it with a knitting-needle while they were plaiting her, "What am I to do about the jewels ?' " Davis's brow darkened as he crushed the paper in his hand, while, he muttered, " I wish these infernal fools had not been taught to write ! He ought to know, that addressing me Captain Christopher, never deceived a ' Detective' yet. And this is four the Honourable An- nesley Beecher," said he, reading aloud the address, " ' care of Captain Christopher, Coblentz — try Bingem — try Neuweid.' A responsible- looking document this ; it looks like a despatch, with its blue-post paper and massive seal ; and what is the name here, in the corner E ' Davenport Dunn,' sure enough — ' Davenport Dunn.' And with your leave, Sir, we'll see what yon have to say," muttered he, as he broke the seal of the packet. A very brief note first met his eyes ; it ran thus : " ' Dbae Sie, — While I was just reading a very alarming account of Lord Lackington's illness in a communication from Messrs. Harmer and Gore, the post brought me the enclosed letter for your- self, which I perceive to be in her Ladyship's hand ; I forward it at once to Brussels, in the hope that it may reach yon there. Should her Ladyship's, tidings be better than I can fein persuade myself k to hope> may I presume to suggest that you should lose no time in re- pairing to Italy. I cannot exaggerate the peril of his Lordship's state ; in fact, I am hourly expecting news of Ms death ; and, the peculiar circumstances of the case considered, it is highly important you should possess yourself of every information the exigencies of the event may require. I beg to enclose you a bank post-bill for two hundred pounds, payable at any banker's on your signature, and have the honour to be, with sincere; reapeet, " ( Your humble servant, " ' Davehtpokt Dunn. " ' P.S. — I have reason to know that certain claims are now under consideration, and will be preferred ere long, if suitable measures be not adopted to restrain them.' "Prom which side do> you hold your brief, Master Davenport Dunn? I should like to know that.'" said Davis, as he twice over read aloud this postscript. He looked at Lady Lackington's letter 400 DATENPOBT DUNN. turned it over, examined the seal and the postmark, and seemed to hesitate about breaking it open. "Was it that some scruple of con- science arrested his hand, some mysterious feeling that it was a sisterly confidence he was about to violate ? "Who knows ! At all events, if there was a struggle it was a brief one, for he now smashed the seal and spread the open letter before him. With a muttered expression of impatience did he glance over the four closely-written pages indited in the very minutest of hands and the faintest possible ink. Like one addressing himself, however, to a severe task, he set steadily to work, and for nigh an hour never rose from the table. "We have no right, as little have we the wish, to in- flict upon our reader any portion of the labour this process of de- ciphering cost Davis, so that we will briefly state what formed the substance of the epistle. The letter was evidently begun before Lord Lackington had been taken ill, for it opened with an account of Como and the company at the Villa d'Este, where they had gone to resume the water-cure. Her Ladyship's strictures upon the visitors, their morals, and their manners, were pleasantly and flippantly thrown off. She pos- sessed what would really seem an especial gift of her class — the most marvellous use of the perceptive faculties — and could read not alone rank and condition, but character and individuality, by traits of breed- ing and manner that would have escaped the notice of hundreds of those the world calls shrewd observers. This fragment, for it was such, was followed, after a fortnight, by a hastily written passage, an- nouncing that Lord Lackington had been seized with an attack re- sembling apoplexy, and for several hours remained in great danger. She had detained the letter to give the latest tidings before the post closed, and ultimately decided on not despatching it till the next day. The fol- lowing morning's communication was a minute account of medical treatment, the bleedings, the blisterings, the watchings, and the anxie- ties of a sick-bed, with all the vacillating changes that mark the course of malady, concluding with these words : " The doctors are not without hopes, but confess that their confidence is rather based on the great strength and energy of his constitution than upon any success that has attended their treatment, from which I may say that up to this no benefit has accrued. So well as I can interpret his utterance, he seems very anxious to see you, and made an effort to write something to you, which of course he could not accomplish. Come out here, therefore, as quickly as possible ; the route by Lucerne is, they tell me, the shortest and speediest. If I were to give my own opinion, it would be, that he is better and stronger than yesterday, but I do not perceive the doctors disposed to take this view." After this came a BAVENPOET DUNN. 401 lengthened statement of medical hopes and fears, balanced with all the subtle minuteness known to "the Faculty." They explained to a nicety how if that poor watch were to stop it could not possibly be from any fault of theirs, but either from some vice in its original con- struction, or some organic change occasioned by time. They demon- strated, in fact, that great as was their art, it was occasionally baffled, but pointed with a proud humility to the onward progress of science, in the calm assurance that doubtless we should one day know all these things, and treat them as successfully as we now do — I am afraid to say what. One thing, however, was sufficiently clear — Lord Lacking- ton's case was as bad as possible, his recovery almost hopeless. On the turn-down of the last page was the following, written in evident haste, if not agitation : " In opening the letters which have arrived since his illness, I am astonished to find many referring to some suit, either meditated or actually instituted, against our right to the title. Surely some deep game of treachery is at work here. He never once alluded to such a possibility to myself, nor had I the slightest suspi- cion that any pretended claim existed. One of these letters is from Mr. Davenport Dunn, who has, I can see from the tone in which he writes, been long conversant with the transaction, and as evidently inclines to give it a real or a feigned importance. Indeed, he refers to a ' compromise' of some sort or other, and strongly impresses the necessity of not letting the affair proceed further. I am actually dis- tracted by such news coming at such a moment. Surely Lackington could never have been weak enough to yield to mere menace, and? have thus encouraged the insolent pretensions of this claim ? As you pass through London, call at ITordyce's, somewhere in Furnival's; Inn, and just in course of conversation, showing your acquaintance with the subject, learn all you can on the matter. Pordyce has all' our papers, and must necessarily know what weight is due to these pretensions. Above all, however, hasten out here ; there is no say- ing what any day — any hour — may produce. I have no one here to give me a word of advice, or even consolation ; for though Lady Grace is with us, she is so wrapt up in her new theological studies — coquet- ting with Borne as she has been all the summer — that she is perfectly useless. " Have you any idea who is Terence Driscoll ? Some extraordinary notes bearing this signature, ill-written and ill-spelt, have fallen into- my hands as I rummaged amongst the papers, and they are all full of this claim. It is but too plain Lackington suffered these people to terrify him, and this Driscoll's tone is a mixture of the meanest subserviency and outrageous impertinence. It is not unlikely Por- 2 a 402 DAVEOTOBT DUNN. dyce may know Mm. Of course, I need not add one word of caution against your mention of this affair, even to those of your friends with whom you are in closest intimacy. It is really essential not a hint of it should get abroad. "I have little doubt now, looking back on the past, that anxiety and care about this matter have had a large share in bringing on Lackington's attack. He had been sleepless and uneasy for some time back, showing an eagerness, too, about his letters, and the greatest impatience if any accident delayed the post. Although all my maturer thoughts — indeed, my convictions — reject attaching any im- portance to this claim, I will not attempt to conceal from you how unhappy it has made me, nor how severely it has affected my nerves." "With one more urgent appeal to lose not an hour in hastening over the Alps, the letter concluded ; the single word " weaker," apparently written after the letter was sealed, giving a deep meaning to the whole. Davis was not satisfied with one perusal of the latter portion of this letter, but read it over carefully a second time; after which, taking a sheet of paper, he wrote down the names of ITordyce and Terence Driscoll. He then opened a Directory, and running his eye down a column, came to " For dyce and Fraude, 7, Purnival's Inn, solicitors." Of Terence Driscolls there were seventeen, but all in trade— tanners, tinmen, last-makers, wharfingers, and so on ; not one upon whom Davis could fix the likelihood of the correspondence with, the Viscount. He then walked the room, cigar in mouth, for about an hour, after which he sat down and wrote the note to Beecher which we have given in a former chapter, with directions to call upon Stein, the money-lender, and then hasten away from Aix as speedily as possible. This finished, he addressed another and somewhat longer epistle to Lazarus Stein himself, of which latter document this true history has no record. "We perhaps owe an apology to our reader for inverting in our narrative the actual order of these events. It might possibly have been more natural to have preceded the account of Beecher's recep- tion of the letter by the circumstances we have just detailed. "We selected the present course, however, to avoid the necessity of that continual change of scene, alike wearisome to him who reads as to him who writes ; and, as we are about to sojourn in Mr. Davis's company for some time to come, we have deferred the explanation to a time when it should form part of a regular series of events. Nor are we sorry at the opportunity of asking the reader to turn once DAVENPOET DTTNN. 408 again to that brief note, and mark its contents. Though Davis was fully impressed with the conviction that Lord Lackington's days were numbered, though he felt that, at any moment, some chance rumour, some flying report, might inform Beecher what great change* was about to come over his fortunes, yet this note is written in all the seeming carelessness of a gossiping humour : he gives the latest news of the Turf, he alludes to Beecher's new entanglements at home, to his own newly-discovered martingale for the play-table, trusting to the one line about " Benson's people" to make Beecher hasten away from Aix, and from the chance of hearing that his brother was hope- lessly ill. While Grog penned these lines he would have given — if he had it — ten thousand pounds that Beecher was beside him. Ay, willingly had he given it, and more too, that Beecher might be where no voice could whisper to him the marvellous change that any moment might cause in his destiny. Oh, ye naturalists, who grow poetical over the grub and the butterfly, what is there, I ask ye, in the transformation at all comparable with that when the younger brother, the man of strait and small fortune, springs into the Peer, exchanging a life of daily vicissitudes, cheap dinners and duns, dubious companionships and high discounts, for the assured exist- ence, the stately banquets, the proud friendships, the pomp and circumstance of a Lord ? In a moment he soars out of the troubled atmosphere of debts and disabilities, and floats into the balmy region whose very sorrows never wear an unbecoming mourning. Grog's note was thus a small specimen of what the great Talleyrand used to call the perfection of despatch writing, "not the best thing that could be said on the subject, but simply that which would pro- duce the effect you desired." Having sent off this to Beecher, he then telegraphed to his man of business, Mr. Peach, to ascertain at Pordyce's the latest accounts of Lord Lackington's health, and answer " by wire." It was far into the night when Davis betook himself to bed, but not to sleep. The complications of the great game he was playing had for him all the interest of the play-table. The kind of excite- ment he gloried in was to find himself pitted against others — wily, subtle, and deep-scheming as himself — to see some great stake on the board, and to feel that it must be the prize of the best player. With the gambler's superstition, he kept constantly combining events with dates and eras, recalling what of good or ill-luck had marked certain periods of his life. He asked himself if September had usually been a fortunate month ? did the 20th imply anything ? what influence might Holy Paul exert over his destiny? was he merely unlucky him- 2d2 £04 DAVENPORT DTJ1TN. self, or did lie bring evil fortune upon others ? If he suffered himself to dwell upon such "vain auguries" as these, they still exerted little other sway over his mind than to nerve it to greater efforts ; in fact, he consulted these signs as a physician might investigate certain symptoms, which, if not of moment enough to call for special treat- ment, were yet indicative of hidden mischief. His gambling experiences had given him the ready tact, by a mere glance around the table, to recognise those with whom the real struggle should be waged ; to detect, in a second, the deep head, the crafty intelligence — that marvellous blending of caution with rashness that make the gamester ; and in the same spirit he now turned over in thought each of those with whom he was now about to contend, and muttered the name of Davenport Dunn over and over. " Could we only ' hit it off' together, what a game might we not play !" was his last reflection ere he fell off to sleep. CHAPTER L. A DISCURSIVE CONVEBSATION. Davis was surprised, and something more, as he entered the break- fast-room the next morning to find the Eev. Paul Classon already seated at the table, calmly arranging certain little parallelograms of bread-and-butter and sardines. No signs of discomfiture or shame showed themselves in that calmly benevolent countenance. Indeed, as he arose and extended his hand, there was an air of bland protec- tion in the gesture perfectly Boothing. " Tou came back in a pretty state last night," said Davis, roughly. " Overtaken, Kit — overtaken. It was a piece of good news rather than the grape juice did the mischief. As the poet says, " ' Good tidings flowed upon his heart Like a sea o'er a barren shore, And the pleasant waves refreshed the spot So parched and bleak before.' The fact is, Kit, you brought me luck. Just as I reached the post- office, I saw a letter addressed to the Eev. Paul Classon, announcing that I had been accepted as Chaplain to the great Hydropathic DAVENPOET DTTSTN. 405 Institution at Como ; and, to commemorate the event, IJcelebrated in wine the triumphs of water ! Tou got the letters all safely ?" " Little thanks to you if I did ; nor am I yet certain how many may have dropped out on the road." " Stay — I have a memorandum here," said Paul, opening his little note-book. " Tour,' with London post-marks, to Captain Christopher ; two from Brussels for the same ; a large packet for the Hon. Annesley Beecher. That's the whole list." "I got these!" said Grog, gruffly; "but why, might I ask, could you not have kept sober till you got back here ?" " He who dashes his enthusiasm with caution waters the liquor of life. How do we soar above the common ills of existence save by yielding to those glorious impulses of the heart, which say, ' Be happy!'" " Keep the sermon for the cripples at the water-cure," said Davis, savagely. " When are you to be there ?" " By the end of the month. I mentioned the time myself. It would be as soon, I thought, as I could manage to have my divinity library out from England." The sly drollery of his eye as he spoke almost extorted a half-smile from Davis. "Let me see," muttered Grog, as he arose and lighted his cigar, " we are, to-day, the 21st, I believe. No, you can't be there so early. I shall need you somewhere about the first week in October; it might chance to be earlier. Tou mustn't remain here, however, in the interval. You'll have to find some place in the neighbourhood, about fifteen or twenty miles off." "There's Hochst, on the Lahn, a pleasant spot, eighteen miles from this." " Hochst be it ; but, mark me, no more of last night's doings." " I pledge my word," said Paul, solemnly. " Need I say, it is as good as my bond ?" "About the same, I suspect; but I'll give you mine, too," said Davis, with a fierce energy. " If by any low dissipation or indiscre- tion of yours you thwart the plans I am engaged in, I'll leave you to starve out the rest of your life here." " ' So swear we all, as liegemen true, So swear to live and die !' " eried out Paul, with a most theatrical air in voice and gesture. " Tou know a little of everything, I fancy," said Davis, in a more good-humoured tone. " What do you know of law ?" " Of law?" said Paul, as he helped himself to a dish of smoking 406 DAVENPOHT DinTS. cutlets — " if it be the law of debtor and creditor; false arrest, forcible possession, battery, or fraudulent bankruptcy, I am indifferently well skilled. Nor am I ignorant in divorce cases, separate maintenance, and right of guardianship. Equity, I should say, is my weak point." "I believe you," said Davis, with a grin, for he but imperfectly understood the speech. " But it is of another kind of law I'm speak- ing. What do you know about disputed title to a Peerage ? Have you any experience in such cases ?" " Tes ; I have ransacked registries — rummaged out gravestones in my time. I very nearly burned my fingers, too, with a baptismal certificate that turned out to be — what shall I call it ? — unauthentic !" " Tou forged it !" said Grog, gruffly. " They disputed its correctness, and possibly with some grounds for their opinion. Indeed," added he, carelessly, " it was the first thing of the kind I had ever done, and it was slovenly — slovenly." " It would have been transportation !" said Davis, gravely. "With hard labour," added Classon, sipping his tea. " At all events, you understand something of these sort of cases ?" " Tes ; I have been concerned, one way or another, with five. They are interesting when you take to them ; there are so many, so to say, surprises — always something turning up you never looked for — some- body's father that never had a child — somebody's mother that never was married. Then people die— say a hundred and fifty years ago — and no proof of the death can be made out ; or you build wonderfully upon an act of Parliament, and only find out at the last hour that it had been repealed. These traits give a great deal of excitement to the suit. I used to enjoy them much when I was younger !" And Mr. Classon sighed as if he had been calling up memories of cricket- matches, steeple-chases, or the polka — pleasures that advancing years had rudely robbed him of. Davis sat deep in thought for some time. Either he had not fully made up his mind to open an unreserved confidence with his reverend friend, or, which is perhaps as likely, he was not in possession of such knowledge as might enable 'him to state his case. " These suits, or actions, or whatever] you call them," said he, at length, "always drag on for years — don't they P" " Of course they do ; the lawyers take care of that. There are trials at bar, commissions, special examinations before the Masters, arguments before the Peers, appeals against decisions ; in fact, it is &> question of the purse of the litigants. Like everything else, however, in this world, they've got economy-struck. I remember the time — it- was the Bancroft case— they gave me five guineas a day and travelling PAYENPOET DUNN. 407 expenses to go out to Eavenna and take the deposition of an old Marchesa, half-sister of the Dowager, and now, I suppose, they'd say the service was well paid with one-half. Indeed, I may say I had as good as accepted a sort of engagement to go out to the Crimea and examine a young fellow whom they fancy has a claim to a Peerage, and for a mere trifle — fifteen shillings a day and expenses. But they had got my passport stopped here, and I couldn't get away." " What was the name of the claimant ?" " Here it is," said he, opening his note-book. " Charles Conway, formerly in the 11th Hussars, supposed to be serving as orderly on the staff of General La Marmora. I have a long letter of instructions Proode forwarded me, and I suspect it is a strong case got up to intimidate." " "What is the Peerage sought for ?" asked Davis, with an assumed indifference. " I can tell you in five minutes if you have any curiosity on the subject," said Paul, rising. "The papers are all in my writing-desk." " Petch them," said Davis, as he walked to the window and looked out. Classon soon re-entered the room with a large open letter in his hand. " There's the map of the country !" said he, throwing it down on the table. " What would you call the fair odds in such a case, Kit — a private soldier's chance of a Peerage that has been undisturbed since Edward the Third ?" " About ten thousand to one, I'd call it." " I agree with you, particularly since Froode is in it. He only takes up these cases to make a compromise. They're always ' settled.' He's a wonderful fellow to sink the chambers and charge the mine, but he never explodes — never !" " So that Proode can always be squared, eh ?" asked Davis. " Always." Classon now ran his eyes over the letter, and, mum- bling the lines half aloud, said, " ' In which case the Conways of Abergeldy, deriving from the second son, would take precedence of the Beecher branch.' The case is this," added he, aloud : " Viscount Lackington's Peerage was united to the estates by an act of Edward ; a motion for the repeal of this was made in Elizabeth's time, and lost — some aver the reverse ; now the claimant, Conway, relies upon, the original act, since in pursuit of the estates he invalidates the title. It's a case to extort money, and a good round sum, too. I'd say Lord Lackington might give twenty thousand to have all papers and documents of the claim surrendered into his hands." 408 DAVENPOET DT71W, " A heavy sum, twenty thousand," muttered Davis, slowly. " So it is, Kit ; but when you come to tot up suits at Nisi Prius, suits in Equity, searches at the Heralds' Office, and hearings before the Lords, you'll see it is a downright saving." " But could Lackington afford this ? What is he worth ?" " They call the English property twelve thousand a year, and he has a small estate in Ireland besides. In fact, it is out of that part of the property the mischief has come. This Conway's claim was discovered in some old country house there, and Eroode is only partially instructed in it." "And now, Paul," said Davis, slowly, "if you got a commission to square this here affair and make all comfortable, how would you go about it?" " Acting for which party, do you mean ?" asked Paul. " I mean for the Lackingtons." "Well, there are two ways. I'd send for Eroode, and say, ' What's the lowest figure for the whole ?' or I'd despatch a trusty fellow to the Crimea to watch Conway, and see what approaches they are making to him. Of course they'll send a man out there, and it oughtn't to be hard to get hold of him, or, if not himself, of all his papers and instructions." " That looks business-like," said Grog, encouragingly. " After all, Kit, these things, in ninety-nine cases out of the hun- dred, are only snaps of the percussion-cap. There's scarcely a Peerage in England is not menaced with an attempt of the kind ; but such is the intermarriage — such the close tie of affinity between them — they stand manfully to the fellow in possession. They know in their hearts, if once they let the world begin to pick out a stone here or there, the whole wall may come tumbling down, and so they say, ' Here's one of us since Henry H.'s time going to be displaced for some upstart fellow none of us ever heard of.' What signifies legitimacy that dates seven centuries back, in favour of one probably a shoemaker, or a house-painter? They won't stand that, Kit, and reasonably enough, too. I suppose you've heard all about this case from Beecher ?" " Well, I have heard something about it," said Grog, in confusion, for the suddenness of the question disconcerted him, " but he don't care about it." " Very likely not. If Lackington were to have a son, it wouldn't concern him much." "Not alone that, but he doesn't attach any importance to the claim ; he says it's all got up to extort money." DAVENPOBT DUNN. 409 " What of that ? When a highwayman stops you with the same errand, doesn't the refusal occasionally provoke him to use force ? I know very few things so hard to deal with as menaces to extort money. Life is, after all, very like the game the Americans call ' Poker,' where the grand secret is, never to ' brag' too far on a bad hand. What was your part in this business, Kit ?" asked he, after a brief silence. " How do you mean by my part ?" rejoined Davis, gruffly. " I mean, how were you interested ? Do you hold any of Lack- ington's paper ? — have you got any claims on the reversion ? — in a word, does it in any way concern you which king reigns in Israel?" " It might, or it might not," said Grog, dryly. " Now for a ques- tion to you. Could you manage to get employed in the affair — to be sent out after this Conway — or is it too late ?" " It might, or it might not," said Classon, with a significant imita. tion of the other's tone and manner. Davis understood the sarcasm in a moment, and in a voice of some irritation, said, " Don't you try to come the whip-hand over me, Holy Paul. If there be anything to do in this matter, it is I, and not you, will be paymaster; so much for this, so much for that — there's the terms!" " It is such dealings I like best," said Classon, blandly. " Men would have benefited largely in this world had Probity been par- celled out as task-work instead of being made daily labour." " I suspect that neither you nor I would have had much employ- ment either way," said Davis, with a bitter laugh. " But come, you must be stirring. You'll have to be off out of this before the after- noon. The Rhine steamer touches at JSeuweid at three, and I ex- pect my daughter by this boat. I don't want her to see you just yet awhile, Paul. You'll start for Hb'chst, put up at the inn there, and communicate with me at once, so that I may be able to reckon upon you when needed. It were as well, too, that you'd write a line to Proode, and say, that on second thoughts that expedition to the Crimea might suit ; explore the way, in fact, and let me know the tidings. As to terms," said Grog— for the other's blank look ex- pressed hesitation — " if J say, ' Go,' you shall say, 'Por what?' " " I do love these frank and open dealings," said Paul, warmly. " Look here," said Davis, as the other was about to leave the room : " old Joe Morris, of Mincing-lane, made his fortune by buying up all the forged bills of exchange he could lay hands on, well know- ing that the fellows he could hang or transport any day would be 410 DATENPOKT DUNN. trusty allies. Now, I have all my life committed every critical thing to somebody or other that no other living man would trust with a sixpence. They stood to me as I stood to them, and they knew why. Need I teU you that why ?" " No necessity in the world to do so," said Paul, blandly. " That's enough," said Davis. " Come to me when you're ready, and I'll have some cash for you." CHAPTEE LI. A FAMILY MEETING. Along a road pleasantly shaded by linden-trees, Davis strolled leisurely that afternoon to meet his daughter. It was a mellow, autumnal day — calm, silent, and half sombre — one of those days in which the tranquil aspect of nature has an influence of sad but soothing import, and even the least meditative minds are led to re- flection. Down the deep valley, where the clear trout stream eddied along, while the leafy chesnut-trees threw their shadows over the. water ; over the rich pasture-lands, where the spotted cattle roamed ; high up the blue mountains, whose snowy summits mingled with the clouds, Davis wandered with his eyes, and felt, he knew not why or how, a something of calming, subduing effect upon a brain racked with many a scheme — wearied with many a plot. As he gazed down upon that fair scene where form and colour and odour were blended into one beauteous whole, a struggling effort of fancy sent through his mind the question, " Is this, after all, the real prize of life ? Is this peaceful existence worth all the triumphs that we strive and fight for ?" And then came the thought, " Could this be lasting, what would a nature like mine become, thus left in rust and disuse ? Could I live ? or should I enjoy life without that eternal hand-to-hand conflict with my fellow-men, on which skill and ready wit are exercised?" He pondered long over this notion, nor could he satisfy himself with any conclusion. He thought he could remember a time when he would thoroughly have liked all this — when he could have taken leave of the busy world without one regret, and made the great race of life a mere " walk over ;" but now that he had tasted the poisonous fascination of that, combat, where man is pitted against man, and where even the lust of gain is less stimulating than a deadly sense of jealous rivalry, it DATENPOET DOTS'. 411 was too late — too late ! How strange, too, did ifseem to Mm, as he looked back upon Ms wild and stormy life, with all its perils and all its vicissitudes, to think that an existence so calm, so uneventful, and so safe, could yet be had — that a region existed where craft could find, no exercise, where subtlety might be in disuse ! It was to him like a haven that he was rejoiced to know — a harbour whose refuge, some one day or other, he would search out ; but there was yet one voyage to make — one grand venture — which, if successful, would be the crowning fortune of his life ! The sharp crack crack of a postilion's whip started him from his musings, and, looking up, he saw a post-carriage approaching at full speed. He waved his hat as the carriage came near for the men to draw up, and the next moment Lizzy Davis was in her father's arms. He kissed her twice, and then, holding her back, gazed with proud delight at her beautiful features, never more striking than in that moment of joyful meeting. " How well you are looking, Lizzy !" said he, with a thick utterance. " And you too, dear Papa," said she, caressingly. " This quiet rural life seems to have agreed wonderfully with you. I declare you look five years younger for it, does he not, Mr. Beecher ?" " Ah, Beecher, how are you ?" cried Davis, warmly shaking the other's hand. " This is jolly, to be all together again," said he, as, drawing his daughter's arm within his own, and taking Beecher on the other side, he told the postilions to move forward, while they would find their way on foot. "How did you ever hit upon this spot?" asked Beecher; "we couldn't find it on the map." " I came through here some four-and- twenty years ago, and I never forget a place, nor a countenance. I thought at the time it might suit me, some one day or other, to remember, and you see I was right. Tou are grown fatter, Lizzy ; at least I fancy so. But come, tell me about your life at Aix — was it pleasant ? was the place gay ?" " It was charming, Papa !" cried she, in ecstasy ; " had you only been with us, I could not have come away. Such delightful rides and drives, beautiful environs, and then the Cursaal of an evening, with all its odd people — not that my guardian, here, fancied so much my laughing at them." "Well, you didn't place much restraint upon yourself, I must say." " I was reserved even to prudery ; I was the caricature of Anglo- Saxon propriety," said she, with affected austerity. " And what did they think of you, eh ?" asked Davis, trying to subdue the pride that would, in spite of him, twinkle in his eye. 412 DAVEmeoBT bttnn. " I was the belle of the season. I assure you it is perfectly true !" " Come, come, Lizzy " "Well, ask Mr. Beecher. Be honest now, and confess frankly, were you not sulky at driving out with me the way the people stared ? Didn't you complain that you never expected to come home from the play without a duel, or something of the kind, on your hands ? Did you not induce me to ruin my toilette just to escape what you so de- licately called ' our notoriety ?' Oh, wretched man ! what triumphs did I not relinquish out of compliance to your taste for obscurity !" " By Jove ! we divided public attention with Perouk Khan and his wives. I don't see that my taste for obscurity obtained any brilliant success." " I never heard of such black ingratitude !" cried she, in mock indig- nation. " I assure you, Pa, I was a martyr to his English notions, which, to me, seem to have had their origin in Constantinople." "Poor Beecher!" said Davis, laughingly. " Poor Beecher, no, but happy Beecher, envied by thousands. !Not, indeed," added she, with a smile, "that his appearance at this moment suggests any triumphant satisfaction. Oh, Papa, you should have seen him when the Russian Prince Ezerboffsky asked me to dance, or when the Archduke Albrecht offered me his horses ; or, better still, the evening the Margrave lighted up his conservatory just to let me see it." " Tour guardianship had its anxieties, I perceive," said Davis, dryly. " I think it had," said Beecher, sighing. " There were times I'd have given five thousand, if I had it, that she had been safe under your own charge." "My dear fellow, I'd have given fifty," said Davis, "if I didn't know she was just in as good hands as my own." There was a racy heartiness in this speech that thrilled through Beecher's heart, and he could scarcely credit his ears that it was Grog spoke it. " Ay, Beecher," added he, as he drew the other's arm closer to his side, "there was just one man — one single man in Europe — I'd have trusted with the charge." " Eeally, gentlemen," said Lizzy, with a malicious sparkle of the eye, " I am lost in my conjectures whether I am to regard myself as a sort of human Koo-i-Noor — a priceless treasure — or something so very difficult to guard, so perilous to protect, as can scarcely be ac- counted a flattery. Say, I entreat of you, to which category do I be- long ?" " A little to each, I should say — eh, Beecher ?" cried Grog, laugh- ingly. " Oh, don't appeal to Jivm, Papa. He only wants to vaunt his DAVENPOBT DUNN. 41S heroism the higher, becauBe the fortress he guarded was so easy of assault !" Beecher was ill fitted to engage in such an encounter, and stam- mered out some common-place apology for his own seeming want of gallantry. " She's too much for us, Beecher — too much for us. It's a pace we can't keep up," muttered Grog in the other's ear. And Beecher nodded a ready assent to the speech. "Well," said Lizzy, gaily, " now that your anxieties are well over, I do entreat of you to unbend a little, and let us see the lively, light- hearted Mr. Annesley Beecher, of whose pleasant ways I have heard so much." " I used to be light-hearted enough, once, eh, Davis ?" said Beecher, with a sigh. " "When you saw me first, at the Derby — of let me see, I don't remember the year, but it was when Danby's mare Petrilla won — with eighteen to one ' given and taken' against her, the day of the race — Brown Davy, the favourite, coming in a bad third — he died the same night." " "Was he ' nobbled ?' " asked Lizzy, dryly. ""What do you mean?" cried Grog, gruffly. ""Where did you learn that word ?" " Oh, I'm quite strong in your choice vocabulary," said she, laugh- ingly ; " and you are not to fancy that in the dissipations of Aix I have? forgotten the cares of my education. My guardian there set me a task every morning — a page of Burke's Peerage and a column of the Racing Calendar; and for the ninth Baron of Ktzfoodle, or the fifteenth, winner of the Diddlesworth, you may call on me at a moment." The angry shadow on Davis's brow gradually faded away, and he laughed a real, honest, and good-humoured laugh. " "What do you say to the Count, Lizzy ?" asked he next. " There was a fine gentleman, wasn't he ?" " There was the ease and the self-possession of good breeding without the manners. He was amusing from his own self-content, and a sort of latent impression that he was taking you in ; and when one got tired of that, he became downright stupid." " True as a book, every word of it !" cried Beecher, in hearty gra- titude, for he detested the man, and was envious of his small accom- plishments. " His little caressing ways, too, ceased to be flatteries, when you saw that, like the cheap bonbons scattered at a carnival, they were made for the million." " Hit him again, he hasn't got no friends !" said Beecher, with an. assumed slang in his tone. 414 DATENPOHT DTJIOSr. " But worst of all was that mockery of good-nature — a false air of kindliness about him. It was a spurious coinage, so cleverly devised that you looked at every good guinea afterwards with distrust." " How she knows him — how she reads him !" cried Davis, in de- light. " He was very large print, Papa," said she, smiling. " Confound me !" cried Beecher, " if I didn't think you liked him, you used to receive him so graciously ; and I'll wager he thinks him- self a prime favourite with you." " So he may, if it give him any pleasure," said she, with a careless laugh. Davis marked the expression of Beecher's face as she said these words ; he saw how that distrustful nature was alarmed, and he hastened to repair the mischief. " I am sure you never affected to feel any regard for him, Lizzy ?" said he. "Eegard for him!" said she, haughtily; "I should think not! Such people as he are like the hired horses that every one uses, and only asks that they should serve for the day they have taken them." " There, Beecher," said Davis, with a laugh. " I sincerely hope she's not going to discuss yowr character or mine" " By Jove ! I hope not." And in the tone in which Beecher uttered this there was an earnestness that made the other laugh heartily. " "Well, here we are. This is your home for the present," said Davis, as he welcomed them to the little inn, whose household were all mar- shalled to receive them with fitting deference. The arrangements within doors were even better than the pictu- resque exterior promised, and when Lizzy came down to dinner she was in raptures about her room, its neatness even to elegance, and the glorious views that opened before the windows. " I'm splendidly lodged, too," said Beecher ; " and they have given me a dressing-room, with a little winding stair to the river, and a bath in the natural rock. It is downright luxury, all this." Davis smiled contentedly as he listened. For days past had he been busied with these preparations, determined to make the spot appear in all its most favourable colours. Let us do him the justice to own that his cares met a full success. Flowers abounded in all the rooms, and the perfumed air, made to seem tremulous by the sounds of falling water, was inexpressibly calming after the journey. The dinner, too, would have done honour to a more pretentious " hostel ;" and the Steinberger, a cabinet wine, that the host would not part with except for " love as well as money," was perfection. Better than all these — better than the fresh trout with its gold and DAVENPOBT DUNN. 415 azure speckles — better than the delicate Kehbraten with its luscious sauce — better than the red partridges in their bed of truffles, and a dessert whose grapes rivalled those of Pontainebleau, — better, I say, than all, was the happy temper of the hour ! Never were three people more disposed for enjoyment. To Lizzy, it was the oft dreamed-of home, the quiet repose of a spot surrounded with all the charm of scenery, coming, too, just as the dissipations of gaiety had begun to weary and pall upon her. To Beecher, it was the first moment of all his life in which he tasted peace. Here were neither duns nor bailiffs. It was a Paradise where no writ had ever wandered, nor the word "outlawry" had ever been uttered. As for Davis, if he had not actually won his game, he held in his hand the trump card that he knew must gain it. "What signified, now, a day or even a week more or less ; the labour of his long ambition was all but completed, and 4ie saw the goal reached that he had striven for years to attain. Nor were they less pleased with each other. Never had Lizzy seemed to Beecher's eyes more fascinating than now. In all the blaze of full dress she never looked more beautiful than in that simple muslin, with the sky-blue ribbon in her glossy hair, and the bouquet of moss roses coquettishly placed above her ear, for — I mention it out of accuracy — she wore her hair drawn back, as was the mode about a century ago, and was somewhat ingenious in her imitation of that mock-shepherdess "coiffure" so popular with fine ladies of that time. She would have ventured on a " patch," if it were not out of fear for her father ; not, indeed, that the delicate fairness of her skin, or the dazzling brilliancy of her eyes, needed the slightest aid from art. "Was it with some eye to keeping a toilette that she wore a profusion of rings, many of great price and beauty ? I know not her secret ; if I did, I should assuredly tell it, for I suspect none of her coquetries were without their significance. To complete Beecher's satisfaction, Davis was in a mood of good humour, such as he had never seen before. Not a word of contradiction — not one syllable of disparage- ment fell from his lips, that Beecher usually watched with an almost childish terror, dreading reproof at every moment, and not being ever certain when his opinions would pass without a censure. Instead of this, Grog was conciliating even to gentleness, constantly referred to Beecher what he thought of this or that, and even deferred to his better judgment on points whereon he might have been supposed to be more conversant. Much valued reader, has it ever been your for- tune in life to have had your opinions on law blandly approved of by an ex- Chancellor, your notions of medicine courteously confirmed by a great Physician, or your naval tactics endorsed by an Admiral of the Fleet ? If so, you can fully appreciate the ecstasy of Annesley Beecher 416 DAVENPORT DUNN. as he found all liis experiences of the sporting world corroborated by the " Court above." This was the gold medal he had set his heart on for years— thiB the great prize of all his life ; and now he had won it, and he was really a "sharp fellow." There is an intense delight in the thought of having realised a dream of ambition, of which, while our own hearts gave us the assurance of success, the world at large only scoffed at our attempting. To be able to say, " Yes, here I am, despite all your forebodings and all your predictions — I knew it was ' in me !' " is a very proud thing, and such a moment of vainglorious- ness is pardonable enough. How enjoyable at such a moment of triumph was it to hear Lizzy sing and play, making that miserable old piano discourse in a guise it had never dreamed of ! She was in one of those moods wherein she blended the wildest flights of fancy with dashes of quaint humour, now, breathing forth a melody of Spohr's in accents of thrilling pathos, now, hitting off in improvised doggrel a description of Aix and it company, with mimicries of their voice and manner irresistibly droll. In these imitations the Count, and even Beecher himself, figured, till Grog, fairly worn out with laughter, had to entreat her to desist. As for Beecher, he was a good-tempered fellow, and the little raillery at himself took nothing from the pleasure of the description, and he laughed in read . jqcknowledgment of many a little trait of his own manner that he never suspected could have been detected by another. " Ain't she wonderful — ain't she wonderful ?" exclaimed Grog, as she strolled out into the garden, and left them alone together. " What I can't make out is, she has no blank days," said Beecher. " She was just as you saw her there, the whole time we were at Aix - and while she's rattling away at the piano, and going on with all manner of fun, just ask her a serious question — I don't care about what — and she'll answer you as if she had been thinking of nothing else for the whole day before." " Had she been born in yov/r rank of life, Beecher, where would she be now — tell me that?" said Davis; and there was an almost fierce energy in the words as he spoke them. " I can tell you one thing," cried Beecher, in a transport of delight, " there's no rank too high for her this minute." " "Weil said, boy — well said," exclaimed Davis, warmly; " and here's to her health." " That generous toast and cheer must have been in honour of my- self," said Lizzy, peeping in at the window ; "and in acknowledgment I beg to invite you both to tea." DAVENPOKT BVKS. 411 CHAPTEK LII. A SAUNTEE BY MOOMJCHT. Lizzy Dayis had retired to her room, somewhat weary after the day's journey, not altogether unexcited hy her meeting with her father. How was it that there was a gentleness, almost a tenderness, in his manner she had never known before ? The short, stern address, the abrupt question, the stare piercing and defiant of one who seemed ever to distrust what he heard, were all replaced by a tone of quiet and easy confidence, and a look that bespoke perfect trustfulness. " Have I only seen him hitherto in moments of trial and excite- ment ? are these the real traits of his nature ? is it the hard conflict of life calls forth the sterner features of his character ? aad might he, in happier circumstances, be ever kind and confiding, as I see him now ?" What a thrill of ecstasy did the thought impart ! "What a realisation of the home she had often dreamed of! "He mistakes me, too," said she, aloud, " if he fancies that my heart is set upon some high ambition. A life of quiet obscure ,_ In some spot peaceful and unknown as this, would suffice for all my wishes. I want no triumphs — I covet no rivalries." A glance at herself in the glass, at this moment, sent the deep colour to her cheek, and she blushed deeply. "Was it that those bright, flashing eyes, that fair and haughty brow, and those lips tremulous with proud significance, gave a denial to these words ? Indeed, it seemed as much, for she quickly added, " Not that I would fly the field, or ingloriously escape the struggle "Who's there ?" cried she, quickly, as a low tap came to the door. " It is I, Lizzy. I heard you still moving about, and I thought I'd propose half an hour's stroll in the moonlight before bed. "What do you say to it ?" " I should like it of all things, Papa," cried she, opening the door at once. "Throw a shawl across your shoulders, child," said he; "the air is not always free from moisture. "We'll go along by the river- side." A bright moon in a sky without a cloud lit up the landscape, and by the strongly-marked contrast of light and shadow imparted a most striking effect to a scene wild, broken, and irregular. Fantastically 2e 418' UAVENPOHT DUNN. shaped rocks brolce the current of the stream; at. every moment gnnrled and twisted roots straggled along the shelving banks, and in the uncertain light assumed goblin shapes and forms, the plashing stream, as it rushed by, appearing to give motion to the objects around. Nor 'was the semblance all unreal, for here and there ^a pliant branch rose and fell 'on the surging Water like the arm of some drowning swimmer. , The father and daughter walked along for some time in uttlr silence, the thoughts of each filled' with the scene before them. Lfezy fan'ciedit was a conflict of rivei> gods — some great" Titamic "war, where angry giants were the eombatanrs ; or, again, as fairer forms succeeded, they seemed a group of nymphs bathing in' the soft'raiooa- light. Aa for Grog, it reminded him of a row at Ascot, where the sweli'-rfl'ob smashed the police; and so strikingly did it call up lb© memory of the event, that he laughed aloiidj and heartily. ■>..'• "Do tell me what ybaare laughing at, Pa,"; said she, entreatMgly. " It was something that I saw long .ago*- something I was re- minded of by those trees yonder, bobbing up- and down with the current.'' " . * But what was it ■?" asked she, more eagerly ; for even yet the memory kept him laughing. "'Nothirfg that could interest you, girl," said he, bluntly; and then, as if ashamed at the rudeness of his speech, he added, "though I have seen a good deal of life, Lizzy, there's but little; of it I could recal- for either ybur benefit or instruction." Lizzy was silent ; she wished him to speak on, but did not choose to question him. Strangely enough, too, though he shunned the theme, he had been glad if she had led him on to talk of it. After a long pause he sighed heavily, and said, " I suppose every one, if truth were told, would- have rather a sad tale to tell of the world when he comes tbiny age. It don't improve upon ac- quaintance, I promise you. Not tbatl want to^discourage you about it, my girl. You'll come to my way of thinking one of these days, and it will be quite soon enough." " And have you really found men so fiilse and worthless a* j:~v L J ^^ /jLcJtoMirt'an/^^/c&Ue' DATENPOET DUNN. 435 " A travelling jeweller, I fancy," said the other ; " twig the smart watch-chain." Oh, young gentlemen, how gingerly had you trod there if you only knew how thin was the ice under your feet, and how cold the depth beneath it. Davis arose and walked down the street. The mellow notes of a bugle announced the arrival of the post, and the office must now open in a few minutes. Forcing his way through the throng to the open window, he asked if there were any letters for Captain Christopher? None. Any for Captain Davis? None. Any for the Hon. Annesley Beecher? The same reply. He was turning away in disappointment, when a voice called out, " "Wait ! here's a message just come in from the Telegraph-office. Please to sign the receipt for it." He wrote the name, C. Christopher, boldly, and pushed his way through the crowd once more. If his heart throbbed painfully with the intensity of anxiety, his fingers never trembled as he broke the seal of the despatch. Three brief lines were all that were there; but three brief lines can carry the tidings of a whole destiny. "We give it as it stood : " "William Peach to Christopher, Neuweid, in Nassau. " The Viscount died yesterday, at four p.m. Lawyers want A. B.'s address immediately. " Proceedings already begun." Davis devoured the lines four — five times over, and then muttered between his teeth, " Safe enough now — the match as good as over!" " I say, George," said one of the young travellers to his com- panion, " our friend in the green frock must have got news of a prize in the lottery. Did you ever see anything like his eyes? they actually lit up the blue spectacles." " Clap the saddle on that black horse," cried Grog, as he passed into the stable ; " give him a glass of Kirschwasser, and bring him round to the door." " He knows how to treat an old poster," said the ostler ; " it's not the first ride he has taken on a courier's saddle." 2f2 436 DAVENPORT T>V8TX. CHAPTEE LIV. HOW GEOG DAVIS DISCOURSED, AND ANNESXEY BEECHEK LISTENED. When Davis reached the little inn at evening, he was surprised to learn that Annesley Beecher had passed the day alone. Lizzy com- plained of headache, and kept her room. Grog listened to this with a grave, almost stern, look ; he partly guessed that the ailment was a mere pretext ; he knew better to what to attribute her absence. They dined tete-a-t£te ; but there was a constraint over each, and there was little of that festive enjoyment that graced the table on the day before. Beecher was revolving in his mind all the confessions that burdened his conscience about Stein and the mystical volume he had bought from him ; the large sums he had drawn for were also grievous loads upon his heart, and he knew not in what temper or spirit Davis would hear of them. Grog, too, had many things in his head ; not, indeed, that he meant to reveal them, but they were like secret instructions to his own heart, to be referred to for guidance and direction. They sipped their wine under the trellised vines, and smoked their cigars in an atmosphere fragrant with the jessamine and the rose, the crystal river eddying along at their feet, and the purple moun- tain glowing in the last tints of declining day. " We want Lizzy to enliven us," said Davis, after a long silence on both sides. " We're dull and heavy without her." " By Jove ! it does make a precious difference whether she's here or not," said Beecher, earnestly. "There's a light-heartedness about that girl does one good," said Davis, as he puffed his cigar. " And she's no fool, either." "I should think she's not," muttered Beecher, half indignantly. " It couldn't be supposed she should know life like you or me, for instance ; she hasn't seen the thing — never mixed with it ; but let the time come that she shall take her part in the comedy, you'll see whether she'll not act it cleverly." " She has head for anything !" chimed in Beecher. " Ay,- and what they call tact, too. I don't care what company you place her in ; take her among your Duchesses to-morrow, and see if she'll not keep her own place — and that a good one." BAYENPOKT DUNN. 437 Beecher sighed, but it was not in any despondency. And now a long silence ensued ; not a sound heard save the light noise of the bottle as it passed between them, and the long-drawn puffs of smoke that issued from their lips. "What did you do with Stein? Did he give you the money?" asked Davis, at last. " Oh yes, he gave it — he gave it freely enough ; in fact, he bled so easily, that, as the doctors say, I took a good dash from him. Tou mentioned two thousand florins, but I thought, as I was about it, a little more would do us no harm, and so I said, ' Lazarus, old fellow, what if we make this for ten thousand " " Ten thousand!" said Davis, removing his cigar from his lips and staring earnestly, but yet not angrily, at the other. " Don't you see, that as I have the money with me," began Beecher, in a tone of apology and terror, " and as the old fellow didn't put ' the screw on' as to discount " " No, he's fair enough about that ; indeed, so far as my own expe- rience goes, all Jews are. It's your high-class Christian I'm afraid of; but you took the cash ?" "Yes !" said Beecher, timidly, for he wasn't sure he was yet out of danger." "It was well done — well thought of," said Grog, blandly. ""We'll want a good round sum to try this new martingale of mine. Open- ing with five Naps, we must be able to bear a run of four hundred and eighty, which, according to the rule of chances, might occur once in seventeen thousand three hundred and forty times." " Oh ! as to that," broke in Beecher, " I have hedged famously. I bought old Stein's conjuring book, what he calls his "Kleinod," showing how every game is to be played, when to lay on, when to draw off. Here it is," said he, producing the volume from his breast- pocket. " I have been over it all day. I tried three problems with the cards myself, but I couldn't make them come up right." " How did you get him to part with this ?" asked Davis, as he ex- amined the volume carefully. " Well, I gave him a fancy price — that is, I am to give it, which makes all the difference," said Beecher, laughing. "In short, I gave him a bit of stiff, at three months, for one thousand " "Florins?" " No, pounds — pounds sterling," said Beecher, with a half-choking effort. "It was a fancy price," said Grog, slowly, not the slightest sign of displeasure manifesting itself on his face as he spoke. 438 DAVENPOBT DTTNN. "Tou don't think, then, that it was too much?" faltered out Beecher. ' "Perhaps not, under the circumstances," said Davis, keenly. ' " What do you mean by ' under the circumstances ?' " Davis threw his cigar into the stream, pushed bottle and glasses away from him— far enough to permit him to rest both his arms on the table — and then steadfastly fixing hiB eyes on the other with a look of intense but not angry significance, said, " How often have I told you, Beecher, that it was no use to try a ' double' with me. ~Whj, man, I know every card in your hand." " I give you my sacred word of honour, Grog " " To be renewed at three months, I suppose ?" said Davis, sneer- ingly. " No, no, my boy, it takes an earlier riser to get to the blind side of Kit Davis. I'm not angry with you for trying it — not a bit, lad ; there's nothing wrong in it but the waste of time." " May I be hanged, drawn, and quartered, if I know what you're at, Grog !" exclaimed the other, piteously. " Well, all I can say is, J read you easier than you read me. You gave old Lazarus a thousand pounds for that book after reading that paragraph in the Times." " What paragraph ?" " I mean that about your brother's title not being legal." "I never saw it — never heard of it," cried Beecher, in undisguised terror. " Well, I suppose I'm to believe you," said Davis, half reluctantly. " It was in a letter from the Crimea, stating, that so confident are the friends of a certain claimant to the title and estates now enjoyed by Lord Lackington, that they have offered the young soldier who represents the claim any amount of money he pleases to purchase promotion in the service." " I repeat to you my word of honour I never saw nor heard of it." " Of course, then, I believe you," said Grog. Again and again did Beecher reiterate assurances of his good faith ; he declared, that during all his stay at Aix, he had never looked into a newspaper, nor had he received one single letter, except from Davis himself; and Davis believed him, from the simple fact that such a paragraph as he quoted had no existence — never was in print — never uttered, till Grog's own lips had fashioned it. " But surely, Grog, it is not a flying rumour — the invention of some penny-a-liner — would find any credence withyow ?" " I don't know," said Davis, slowly ; " I won't say I'd swear to. it all, but just as little would I reject it as a fable. At all events, I gave BATENPOET DUNK. 439 you credit for having trimmed your sails by the tidings, and if you didn't, why there's no harm done, only you're not so shrewd a fellow as I thought you." Beecher's face grew scarlet ; how near — how very near he was of being " gazetted" the sharp fellow he had been striving for years to become, and now, by his own stupid admission, had he invalidated his claim to that high degree. " And this is old Stein's celebrated book ? I've heard of it these five-and-thirty years, though I never saw it till now. Well, I won't say you made a bad bargain " " Indeed, Grog — indeed, by George ! I'm as glad as if I won five hundred to hear you Bay so. To tell you the truth, I was half afraid to own myself the purchaser. I said to myself, ' Davis will chaff me so about this book, he'll call me all the blockheads in Europe ' " " No, no, Beecher, you ain't a blockhead, nor will I suffer any one to call you such. There are things — there are people, too, just as there are games — that you don't know, but before long you'll be the match of any fellow going. I can put you up to them, and I will. There's my hand on it." Beecher grasped the proffered hand and squeezed it with a warmth there was no denying. What wonderful change had come over Grog he could not guess. Whence this marvellous alteration in his manner towards him ? No longer scoffing at his mistaken notions of people, or disparaging his abilities, Davis condescended now to talk and take counsel with him as an equal. " That's the king of wines," said Davis, as he pushed a fresh bottle across the table. " When you can get ' Marcobrunner ' like that, where's the Burgundy ever equalled it ? Fill up your glass, and drink a bumper to our next venture, whatever it be !" " ' Our next venture, whatever it be !' " echoed Beecher, as he laid the empty glass on the table. " Another toast," said Davis, replenishing the glasses. " ' May all of our successes be in company.' " " I drink it with all my heart, old fellow. You've always stood like a man to me, and I'll never desert you," cried Beecher, whose head was never proof against the united force of wine and excitement. " There never were two fellows on this earth so made to run in double harness," said Davis, " as you and myself. Let us only lay our heads together, and there's nothing can resist us." Grog now launched forth into one of those descriptions which he could throw off with a master's hand, sketching life as a great hunt- ing-ground, and themselves as the hunters. What zest and vigour 440 DAVENPORT DUNK. could he impart to such a picture !— how artfully, too, could he make Beecher the foreground figure, he himself only shadowed forth as an accessory. Listening with eagerness to all he said, Beecher continued to drink deeply, the starry night, the perfumed air, the rippling sounds of the river, all comhining with the wine and the converse to make up a dream-land of fascination. Nor was the enchantment less perfect that the objects described passed before him like a series of dissolving views. They represented, all of them, a life of pleasure and enjoy- ment — means inexhaustible — means for every extravagance — and, what he relished fully as much, the undisputed recognition by the world to the claim of being a " sharp fellow" — a character to which Grog's aid was so dexterously contributed as to escape all detection. Perhaps our reader might not have patience with us were we to follow Davis through all the devious turns and windings of this tortuous discourse. Perhaps, too, we should fail signally were we to attempt to convey in our cold narrative what came from his lips with all the marvellous power of a good story-teller, whose voice could command many an inflection, and whose crafty nature appreciated the temper of the metal beneath his beat. If we could master all these, another and a greater difficulty would still remain ; for how could we convey, as Davis contrived to do, that through all these gorgeous scenes of worldly success, in the splendour of a life of magnificence, amidst triumphs and conquests, one figure should ever pass before the mind's eye, now participating in the success, now urging its completion, now, as it were, shedding a calm and chastened light over all — a kind of angelic influence that heightened every enjoyment of the good, and averted every approach of evil ? Do not fancy, I beseech you, that this was a stroke of high art far above the pencil of Grog Davis. Amongst the accidents of his early life the " stage " had figured, and Grog had displayed very consider- able talents for the career. It was only at the call of what he con- sidered a higher ambition he had given up "the boards" for "the ring." Besides this, he was inspired by the Marcobrunner, which had in an equal degree affected the brain of him who listened. If Grog were eloquent, Beecher was ductile. Indeed, so eagerly did he devour all that the other said, that when a moment of pause occurred, he called out, " Go on, old fellow — go on ! I could listen to you for ever!" Nor was it altogether surprising that he should like to hear words of praise and commendation from lips that once only opened in sarcasm and ridicule of him. How pleasant to know at last that he DAVENPORT DUNN. 441 was really and truly a great partner in the house of Davis and Co., and not a mere commission agent, and that this partnership — how that idea came to strike him we cannot determine— was to be binding for ever. How exalting, too, the sentiment that it was just at the moment when all his future looked gloomiest this friendship was ratified. The Lackington Peerage might go, but there was Grog Davis staunch and true — the ancient estates be torn from his house, but there was the precious volume of old Lazarus, with wealth untold within its pages. Thus threading his way through these tortuous passages of thought, stumbling, falling, and blundering at every step, that poor brain lost all power of coherency and all guidance, and he wavered between a reckless defiance of the world and a sort of slavish fear of its censure. " And Lackington, Grog — Lackington," cried he, at length — " he's as proud as Lucifer — " what will he say ?" " Not so much as you think !" remarked Grog, dryly. " Lacking- ton will take it easier than you suspect." " No, no, you don't know him — don't know him at all. I wouldn't stand face to face with him this minute for a round sum !" " I'd not like it over much myself!" muttered Davis, with a grim smile. " It's all from pride of birth and blood, and he'd say, ' Debts, if you like, go ahead with Jews and the fifty per centers, but, hang it, don't tie a stone round your throat — don't put a double ditch between yon and your own rank ! Look where I am,' he'd say — ' look where I am !' " " Well, I hope he finds it comfortable !" muttered Grog, with a dry malice. " ' Look where I am !' " resumed Beecher, trying to imitate the pre- tentious tones of his brother's voice. " And where is it, after all ?" " Where we'll all be, one day or other ?" growled out Grog, who could not help answering his own reflections. " ' And are you sure of where you are ?' — that's what I'd ask him, eh, Grog ? — ' are you sure of where you are ?' " "That leould be a poser, I suspect," said Davis, who laughed heartily; and the contagion catching Beecher, he laughed till the tears came. " I might ask him, besides, ' Are you quite sure how long you are to remain where you are ?' eb, Grog ? What would he say tothat ?" " The chances are, he'd not answer at all," said Davis, dryly. " No, no ! you mistake him, he's always ready with a reason ■ 442 DAVENPOBT DUNN. and then he sets out by reminding you that he's the head of the house — a fact that a younger brother doesn't need to hare recalled to his memory. Oh, Grog, old fellow, if I were the Viscount — not that I wish any ill to Lackington — not that I'd really enjoy the thing at any cost to him — but if I were " ""Well, let's hear. "What then?" cried Davis, as he filled the other's glass to the top — "what then?" " "Wouldn't I trot the coach along at a very different pace ! It's not poking about Italy, dining with smoke-dried Cardinals and snuffy old ' Marchesas,' I'd be ; but I'd have such a stable, old fellow, with Jem Bates to ride and Tom Ward to train them, and yourself, too, to counsel me. Wouldn't we give Binsleigh, and Hawksworth, and the rest of them a cold bath, eh ?" "That ain't the style of thing at all, Beecher," said Grog, depre- catingly; "you ought to go in for the 'grand British Nobleman dodge' — county interests — influence with a party — and a vote in the Lords. If you were to try it, you'd make a right good speech. It wouldn't be one of those flowery things the Irish fellows do, but a manly, straightforward, genuine English discourse." "Do you really think so, Grog?" asked he, eagerly. " I'm sure of it. I never mistook pace in my life ; and I know what's in you as well as if I saw it. The real fact is, you have a turn of speed that you yourself have no notion of, but it will come out one of these days if you're attacked — if they say anything about your life on the turf, your former companions, or a word about the betting- ring." The charm of this flattery was far more intoxicating than even the copious goblets of " Marcobrunner," and Beecher's flushed cheeks and flashing eyes betrayed how it overpowered him. Davis went on. " Tou are one of those fellows that never show ' the stuff they're made of '.till some injustice is done them — eh ?" " True as a book!" chimed in Beecher. " Take you fairly, and a child might lead you, but try it on to deny what you justly have a right to — let them attempt to dictate to you, and say, ' Do this, and don't do the other' — little they know on what back they've put the saddle ! You'll give them such a hoist in the air as they never expected !" " How you read every line of me !" exclaimed Beecher, in ecstasy. " And I'll tell you more ; there's not another man breathing knows you but myself. They've always seen you in petty scrapes and little difficulties, pulling the devil by the last joint of his tail, as Jack Bush DAVENPOBT BTTNIT. 443 says ; but let them wait till you come out for a cup race — the Two Thousand Guinea Stakes — then I'm not Kit Davis if you won't be one of the first men in England." "I hope you're right, Davis. I almost feel as if you were," said Beecher, earnestly. " "When did you find me in the wrong, so far as judgment went ? Show me one single mistake I ever made in a matter of opinion? "Who was it foretold that Bramston would bolt after the Ootteswold if Eugby didn't win ? who told the whole yard at Tattersall's that Grimsby would sell Holt's stable? who saw that Eickman Turner was a coward, and wouldn't fight ? — and I said it, the very day they gave him 'the Bath' for his services in China! I don't know much about books, nor do I pretend to, but as to men and women — men best — I'll back myself against all England and the Channel Islands." " And I'll take as much as you'll spare me out of your book, Grog," said Beecher, enthusiastically, while he filled his glass and drained it. " Tou see," said Davis, in a low, confidential tone, as if imparting a great secret, " I've always remarked that the way they smash a fellow in Parliament — I don't care in which House — is always by raking up something or other he did years before. If he wrote a play, or a novel, or a book of poems, they're down on him at once about his imagination and his fancy — that means, he never told a word of truth in his life. If he was unfortunate in business, they're sure to refer to him about some change in the Law of Bank- ruptcy, and say, ' There's my honourable friend yonder ought to be able to help us by his experiences !' Then, if a fellow has only his wits about him, how he floors them! Tou see there's a great deal of capital to be made out of one of these attacks. Tou rise to reply, without any anger or passion — only dignity — nothing but dig- nity ! Tou appeal to the House if the assault of the right honour- able Baronet opposite was strictly in good taste — whatever that means. Tou ask why you are signalised out to be the mark of his eloquence, or his wit, or whatever it be ; and then you come out with a fine account of yourself, and all the honourable motives that nobody ever suspected you of. That's the moment to praise everything you ever did, or meant to do, or couldn't do — that's the time to show them what a man they have amongst them." " Capital — glorious — excellent!" cried Beecher, in delight. " "Well, suppose, now," said Davis, " there's a bill about marriages — they're always changing the law about them ; it's evidently a con- 444 DAVENPOET DXTNlf. tract doesn't work quite smoothly for all parties — well, there's sure to be many a spicy remark and impertinent allusion in the debate ; it's a sore subject, and every one has a ' raw' on it, and at last some- body says something about unequal matches, alliances with an in- ferior class, ' noble Lords that have not scrupled to mingle the an- cient blood of their race with the — the thin and washy current that flows in plebeian veins.' I'm the Lord Chancellor, now," said Grog, boldly, " and I immediately turn round and fix my eyes upon you. Up you get at once, and say, ' I accept, my Lords — I accept for myself, and my own case, every word the noble Duke, or Marquis, has just uttered. It never would have occurred to me to make my personal history the subject of your Lordships' attention, but when thus rudely brought before you — rudely and gratuitously intro- duced ' Here you'd frown at the last speaker, as much as to say, 'You'll hear more about this outside ' " " Go on — go on !" cried Beecher, with impatience. " 'I rise in this place' — that has always a great impression, to say 'this place' — 'I rise in this place to say that I am prouder in the choice that shares with me the honours of my coronet, than in all the dignity and privilege that same coronet confers.' What a cheer — what a regular hurrah follows that, for they have seen her — ay, that have they ! They have beheld her sweeping down the gilded drawing- room — the handsomest woman in England ! "Where's the Duchess with her eyes, her skin, her dignity, and her grace? Doesn't she look ' thorough-bred in every vein of her neck ?' Where did she get that graceful sweep, that easy-swimming gait, if she hadn't it in her very nature ?" " By Heaven, it's true, every syllable of it !" cried out Beecher, in all the wild ecstasy of delight. " Where is the man — I don't care what his rank might be — who wouldn't envy you after you'd made that speech ? You'd walk down Westminster the proudest man in England after it." Beecher's features glowed with a delight that showed he had already anticipated the sense of his popularity. " And then how the newspapers will praise you. It will be as if you built a bridge over the gulf that separates two distinct classes of people. You'll be a sort of Noble reformer. What was the wisest thing Louis Napoleon ever did ? His marriage. Do you mark that he was always following his uncle's footsteps in all his other policy ; he saw that the only great mistake he ever made was looking out for a high match, and, like a shrewd fellow, he said, ' I have station, DATENPOBT DUNN. 445 rant, power, and money enough for two. It's not to win the good favour of a wrinkled old Archduchess, or a deaf old Princess, I'm going to marry. I'll go in for the whole field. I'll take the girl that, if I wasn't'an Emperor, I'd be proud to call my own.' And'signs on't, they all cried out, ' See if he hasn't hia heart in the right place — there's an honest drop there !' Let him. be as ambitious as you like, he married just as you or I would. Ain't it a fine thing," ex- claimed Grog, enthusiastically, " when one has all the middle classes in one's favour — the respectable ruck that's always running but seldom showing a winner ? Get these fellows with you, and it's like Baring's name on the back of your bill. And now, Beecher," said Davis, grasping the other's hand, and speaking with a deep earnest- ness — " and now that I've said what you might have done, I'll tell you what I will do. I have just been sketching out this line of country to see how you'd take your fences, nothing more. Tou've shown me that you're the right sort, and I'm not the man to forget it. If I had seen the shadow of a shade of a dodge about you — if I'd have detected one line in your face, or one shake in your voice, like treachery — so help me ! I'd have thrown you over like winking ! Tou fancied yourself a great man, and were staunch and true to your old friends ; now it's my turn to tell you that I wouldn't give that empty flask yonder for all your brother Lackington's lease of his Peerage ! Hear me out. I have it from his own lawyers— from the fellows in Purnival's Inn — it's up with him ; the others are per- fectly sure of their verdict. There's how it is ! And now, Annesley Beecher, you were willing to marry Kit Davis's daughter when you thought you could make her a Peeress — now, I say, that when you've nothing, nor haven't a sixpence to bless yourself with, it's Kit him- self will give her to you, and say, there's not the other man breathing he'd as soon see the husband of this same Lizzy Davis !" The burst of emotion with which Beecher met this speech was, in- deed, the result of very conflicting feelings : shock at the terrible tidings of his brother's downfal, and the insult to his house and name, mingled with a burst of gratitude to Davis for his fidelity; but stronger and deeper than these was another sentiment, for smile if you will, most sceptical reader, the man was in love, after Ms fashion. I do not ask of you to believe that he felt as you or I might or ought to feel the tender passion. I do not seek to persuade you that the ' object of his affection mingled with all his thoughts, swayed them, and etherealised them, that she was the theme of many a heart-woven story, the heroine of many an ecstatic dream ; still she was. one who could elicit from that, nature, in all its selfishness, little traits of 446 DAVENFOBT DUNN. generous feeling, little bursts of honest Bentiment, that made him appear better to his own heart. And so far has the adage truth with it, -virtue is its own reward, in the conscious sense of well doing, in the peaceful calm of an unrepining spirit, and, not least of all, in that sympathy which good men so readily bestow upon even faint efforts to win their suffrage. And so he sobbed out something that meant grief and gratitude ; hope, fear, and uncertainty — worse than fear — all agitating and dis- tracting him by turns. Yery little time did Grog give himself for calmer reflection ; away he went at full speed to sketch out their future life. They were to make the tour of Europe, winning all before them. All the joyous part, all the splendour of equipage, retinue, mode of life, and outlay being dictated by Beecher, all the more business detail, the play and the money-getting, devolving upon Davis. Baden, Ems, Wiesbaden, Hamburg, and Air, all glowed in the descriptions like fields of fore- told glory. How they were to outshine Princes in magnificence and Eoyal Highnesses in display — the envy of Beecher — of his un- varying luck — the splendour of all his belongings — Lizzy's beauty too ! What a page would he fill in the great gossip calendar of Europe ! Well Davis knew how to feed the craving vanity of that weak nature, whose most ardent desire was to be deemed cunning and sharp, the cautious reserve of prudent men in his company being a tribute to his acuteness the dearest his heart could covet. Oh, if he longed for anything as success, it was for a time when his coming would spread a degree of terror at a play-table, and men would rise rather than risk their fortune against Ms ! Should such a moment ever be his ? was that great triumph ever to befal him ? And all this as the husband of Lizzy Davis ! " Ay !" said Grog, as he read and traced each succeeding emotion in that transparent nature — " ay ! that's what may be called life ; and when we've done Europe, smashed every bank on the Continent, we'll cross the Atlantic, and give Jonathan a ' touch of our quality.' I know all their games well, and I've had my ' three bullets and a poker' before now on a Mississippi steamer ! Tour Yankee likes faro, and I've a new cabal to teach him ; in short, my boy, there's a roving commission of fun before us, and if it don't pay, my name ain't Davis !" "Was this your scheme, then, Grog," asked Beecher, "when you told me at Brussels that you could make a man of me ?" "It was, my boy," cried Davis, eagerly. "You've guessed it. datenpobt Dorar. 447 There was only one obstacle to the success of the plan at that time, and this exists no longer." " What was the obstacle you speak of?" " Simply, that so long as you fancied yourself next in succession to a Peerage, you'd never lay yourself down regularly to your work ; you'd say, ' Lackington can't live for ever ; he's almost twenty years my senior. I must be the Viscount yet. Why should I, therefore, cumber myself with cares that I have no need of, and involve myself amongst people I'll have to cut one of these days. No. I'll just make a waiting race of it, and be patient.' Now, however, that you can't count upon this prospect — now that to-morrow, or next day, will declare to the world that Henry Hastings Beecher is just Henry Hastings Beecher, and not Viscount Lackington, and that the Ho- nourable Annesley is just Annesley, and no more — now, I say, that you see this clearly with your own eyes, you'll buckle to, and do your work manfully. And there was another thing " And here Davis paused, and seemed to meditate. " What was that, Grog ? Be candid, old fellow, and tell me all." " So I will, then," resumed Davis. " That other thing was this. So long as you were the great man in prospective, and might some fine day be a Lord, you could always persuade yourself — or some one else could persuade you — that Kit Davis was hanging on you just for your rank — that he wanted the intimacy of a man in your station, and so on. Now, if you ever came to believe this, there would have been an end of all confidence between us ; and, without confidence, what can a fellow do for his pal ? This was, therefore, the obstacle, and even if you could have got over it, I couldn't. No, hang me if I could ! I was always saying to myself, ' It's all very nice and smooth now, Kit, between you and Beecher — you eat, drink, and sleep together — but wait till he turns the corner, old fellow, and see if he won't give you the cold shoulder.' " " Tou couldn't believe " " Tes but I could, and did, too ; and many's the time I said to myself, ' If Beecher wasn't a top-sawyer, what a trump he'd be ! He has head for anything, and address for anything.' And do you know" — here Grog dropped his voice to a whisper, and spoke as if under great emotion — " and do you know that I couldn't be the same man to you myself just because of your rank. That was the reason I used to be so sulky, so suspicious, and so — ay, actually cruel with you, telling you, as I did, what couldn't I do with certain acceptances ? Now, look here, Beecher Light that taper beside you ; there's a match in that box at your elbow." 448 DATENPOBT DUNN. Unsteady enough was Beecher' s hand; indeed, it was not wine alone now made him tremble. An intense agitation shook his frame, and he shivered like one in an ague fit. He couldn't tell what was coming ; the theme alone was enough to arrest all process of reason- ing on his part. It was like the force of a blow that stunned and stupified at once. " There, that will do," said Grog, as he drew a long pocket-book from his breast-pocket, and searched for some time amongst its contents. " Ay, here they are — two — three — four of them — insignifi- cant-looking scraps of paper they look — and yet there's a terrible exposure in open court, a dreary sea voyage over the ocean, and a whole life of a felon's suffering in those few lines." " Por the love of mercy, Davis, if you have a spark of pity in your heart — if you have a heart at all — don't speak in this way to me!" cried Beecher, in a voice almost choked with sobs. " It is for the last time in my life you'll ever hear such words," said Grog, calmly. " Bead them over carefully — examine them well. Tes, I wish and require it." " Oh, I know them well !" said Beecher, with a heavy sigh. " Many's the sleepless night the thought of them has cost me." " Go over every line of them — satisfy yourself that they're the same — that the words ' Johnstone Howard' are in your own hand." Beecher bent over the papers ; but, with his dimmed eyes and trembling fingers, it was some time ere he could decipher them. A sigh from the very bottom of his heart was all the reply he could make. "They'll never cost you another sleepless night, old fellow!" said Davis, as he held them over the flame of the taper. " There's the end of 'em now !" DAYENTOKT DUNN. 449- CHAPTEE LV. REFLECTIONS OB ANNESLEY BEECHER. A wisee head than that of Annesley Beecher might have felt some confusion on awaking the morning after the events we have just related. Indeed, his first sensations were those of actual bewilder- ment as he opened his eyes, and beheld the pine-clad mountains rising in endless succession — the deep glens — the gushing streams, crossed by rude bridges of a single tree — the rustic saw-mills all dripping with spray, and trembling with the force of their own machinery. Where was he ? What strange land was this ? How came he there ? Was this in reality the " new world beyond the seas" Davis had so often described to him? By a slow, laborious process, like filtering, stray memories dropped one by one through his clouded faculties, and at length he remembered the scene of the preceding night, and all that had passed between Davis and himself. Tet, withal, there was much of doubt and uncertainty mixed up, nor could he, by any effort, satisfy himself how much was fact, how much mere speculation. Was it true that Lackington was to lose his peerage ? Was it possible such a dreadful blow was to fall on their house ? If so, what portion of the estates would follow the title ? Would a great part — would all the property be transferred to the new claimant ? What length of time, too, might the suit occupy ? — such things often lasted for years upon years. Was it too late for a compromise ? Could not some arrangement be come to " some way ?" Grog was surely the man to decree a plan for this — at all events, he could protract and spin out proceedings. " It's not p.p. — the match may never come off," muttered Beecher, "and I'll back old Grog to ' square it,' somehow." And then the bills — the forged acceptances — they were actually, burned before his face ! It was well-nigh incredible — but he had seen them, held them in his own hand, and watched them as the night wind wafted away their blackened embers, never more to rise in judgment against him — never to cost him another night of sleepless terror ! Who would have believed Davis capable of such, magnanimity ? Of all men living, he had deemed him the last to 2ft 450 DA.TENPOET DTTlfS'. forego any hold over another — and then the act was his own spon- taneous doing, without reservation, without condition. Beecher's heart swelled proudly as he thought over this trait of his friend. "Was it that he felt a sense of joy in believing better of mankind ? — was it that it awoke within his breast more hopeful thoughts of his fellow-men? — did it appeal to him like a voice, saying, " Despair of no man ; there are touches of kindliness in natures the very roughest, that redeem whole lives of harshness ?" No, my good reader, it would be unfair and unjust to you were I to say that such sentiments as these swayed him. Annesley "Beecher's thoughts flowed in another and very different channel. The words he whis- pered to his heart were somewhat in this wise : " "What a wonderful fellow must you be, Beecher, to acquire such influence over a man like Davis} what marvellous gifts must you. not be endowed with! Is it amy wonder that Grog predicts a brilliant future to him who can curb to his wiE the most stubborn of natures, and elicit traits of sacrifice out of the most selfish of men ? Who but yourself could work this miracle ?" Mean and ignoble as such a mode of arguing may seem, take my word for it, most patient reader, it is not unfre- quent in this world of ours, nor is Annesley Beecher the only one who has ascribed all his good fortune to his own deservings. ■" Shrewd fellow, that Davis ; he always saw what stuff was in one ; Tie Tecognisei the real metal, while others were only sneering at the dross ; just as he knows this moment, that if I start fresh without name, fortune, or title, that I'm certain to be at the top o' the tree at last. Give me his daughter ! I should think he would ! It's not all up witii Lackington yet, dark as it looks ; we're in possession, and there is a ' .good line of country ' between the Honourable An- nesley Beecher, next Viscount in succession, and Kit Davis, com- monly called Grog of that ilk ! Not that the girl isn'| equal to any station — there's no denying that 1 Call her a Greville, a Stanley, or a Seymour, and she's a mateh for the finest man in England ! Make her a Countess to-morrow, and she'll look it !" It is but fair to acknowledge that Beecher was not bewildered without some due cause, for if Davis had, at one time, spoken to him as one who no longer possessed claim to rank and station, but was a mere adventurer like himself, at another moment,, he had addressed him as the future "Viscount, and pictured him as hurling a proud defiance to the world in the choice he had made of his wife. This was no blunder on Grog's part. That acute individual had, in the course of his legal experiences, remarked that learned counsel are wont to insert pleas whieh are occasionally even contradictory, alleging BAVENFOBT DTON. 451 at times that " there was no debt," and then, that " if therehad been, it was already paid." In the Bame spirit did Davis embrace each con- tingency of Fortune, showing, that whether Peer or 'Commoner, Annesley Beecher u stood to win " in making Lizzy his wife. " Scratch the pedigree, and she'll be a stunning Peeress ; and if the suit goes against us, show me the girl like her to meet the world 1" This was the sum of the reflections that cost him a whole morning's intellectual labour, and more of actual mental fatigue than befals a great Parliamentary leader after a stormy debate. That Davis had no intention to intimidate him was clearly shown by his destroying the acceptances : had he wished to lean on coercion, here was the means. Take your choice between matrimony and a felony was a short and easy piece of argumentation, such as would well have suited Grog's summary notions ; and yet he had, of his own accord, freely and for ever relinquished this vantage ground. Beecher was now free. For the first time for many a long year of life he arose from his bed without a fear of the law and its emissaries. The horrible nightmare that had scared him so often, dashing the wildest moments of dissipation with sudden fear, deepening the depths of despondency with greater gloom, had all fled, and he awoke to feel that there was no terror in a " Beak's" eye, nothing to daunt him in the shrewd glances of a. Detective. They who have lived years long of insecurity, tortured by the ineeBsant sense of an impending peril, to befal them to-day, to-morrow, or next day, become at length so imbued with fear, that when the hour of their emancipation ar- rives, they are not able, for a considerable time, to assure themselves of their safety. The captive dreams of his chains through many a night after he has gained his liberty; the shipwrecked sailor can never forget the raft and the lone ocean on which he tossed ; nor was it altogether easy for Beecher to convince himself that he could walk the world with his head high, and bid defiance to Crown prose- cutors and juries! " I'm out of your debt, Master Grog," said he, with a pleasant laugh to himself; " catch me if you can running up another score in your books — wait till you see me slipping my neck into a noose held by your fingers. Tou made me feel the curb pretty sharp for many a long day, and might still, if you hadn't taken off the bridle with, your own hands ; but I'm free now, and won't I show you a fair pair of heels ! Who could blame me, I'd like to know ? When a Mlow gets out of gaol, does he take lodgings next door to the prison? I never asked him to burn those bills. It was all his own doing. I conclude that a fellow, as shrewd as he, knew what he was about. 2g2 452 DAVENPOET DUNN. Mayhap he said to himself, ' Beecher's the downiest cove going. It will be a deuced sight better to have him as my friend and pal than to send him. to break stones in Australia. I can stand to win a good thing on him, and why should I send him over seas just out of spite? I'll come the grand magnanimous dodge over him — destroy the papers before his face, and say, " Now, old fellow, what do you say to that for a touch of generosity ?" ' " ' Well, I'll tell you what I say, Master Davis,' " said he, drawing himself up, and speaking boldly out. " ' I say that you're a regular trump, and no mistake ; but you're not the sharp fellow I took you for. Wo, no, old gent, you're no match for A. B. ! He's been running in bandages all this time past ; but now that his back sinews are all right, you'll see if he hasn't a turn of speed in him.' And what is more, I'd say to him, ' Look here, Grog, we've jogged along these ten or twelve years or so without much profit to either of us — what say you if we dissolve the partnership and let each do a little business on his own account ? If I Bhould turn out anything very brilliant, you'll be proud of me, just as England says she is when a young colony takes a great spring of success, and say, " Ay, he was one of my rearing !" ' Of course all dictation, all that bullying intolerance is at an end now, and time it was ! "Wasn't I well weary of it ! wasn't I actually sick of life with it ! I couldn't turn to anything, couldn't think of anything, with that eternal fear before me, always asking myself, ' Is he going to do it now ?' It is very hard to believe it's all over." And he heaved a deep sigh as though disburdening his heart of its last load of sorrow. "Davis is very wide awake," continued he ; "he'll soon see how to trim his sails to this new wind ; he'll know that he can't bully — can't terrorise." A sharp, quick report of a pistol, with a clanging crash, and then a faint tinkle of a bell, cut short his musings, and Beecher hastened to the window and looked out. It was Davis in the vine alley practising with the pistol; he had just sent a ball through the target, the bell giving warning that the shot had pierced the very centre. Beecher watched him as he levelled again ; he thought he saw a faint tremor of the hand, a slight unsteadiness of the wrist ; vain illusion — bang went the weapon, and again the little bell gave forth the token of success. " Give me the word — one — two," cried out Davis to the man who loaded and handed him the pistols. " One — two," called out the other, and the same instant rang out the bell, and the ball was true to its mark. DATENPOET DUNN'. 453 " "What a shot — what a deadly shot !" muttered Beecher, as a cold shudder came over him. As quickly as he could take the weapons Davis now fired ; four — five — six balls went in succession through the tiny circle, the bell tinkling on and never ceasing, so rapidly did shot follow upon shot, till, as if sated with success, he turned away, saying, " I'll try it to- morrow, blindfold !" " I'm certain," muttered Beecher, " no man is bound to go out with a fellow like that. A duel is meant to be a hazard, not a dead cer- tainty ! To stand before him at twenty — ay, forty paces, is a suicide, neither more nor less ; he must kill you. I'd insist on his fighting across a handkerchief. I'd say, ' Let us stand foot to foot !' " No, Beecher, not a bit of it ; you'd say nothing of the kind, nor, if you did, would it avail you ! Tour craven heart could not beat were those stern grey eyes fixed upon you, looking death into you from a yard off. He'd shoot you down as pitilessly, too, at one distance as at the other. Was it in the fulness of a conviction that his faltering lips tried to deny, that he threw himself back upon a chair, while a cold, clammy sweat covered his face and forehead, a sickness like death crept over him, objects grew dim to his eyes, and the room seemed to turn and swim before him ? Where was his high daring now ? Where the boastful spirit in which he had declared himself free, no more the slave of Grog's insolent domination, nor basely cowering before his frown ? Oh, the ineffable bitterness of that thought, coming, too, in revulsion to all his late self-gratulations ! Where was the glorious emancipation he had dreamed of, now ? He could not throw him into prison, it is true, but he could lay him in a grave. " But I'd not meet him," whispered he to himself. " One is not bound to meet a man of this sort." There is something marvellously accommodating and elastic in the phrase, " One is not bound" to do this, that, and t'other. As the said bond is a contract between oneself and an imaginary world, its provisions are rarely onerous or exacting. Life is full of things " one is not bound to do." Tou are " not bound," for instance, to pay your father's debts, though, it might be, they were contracted in your behalf and for your benefit. Tou are not bound to marry the girl whose affections have been your own for years if you can do better in another quarter, and she has nothing in your handwriting to esta- blish a contract. Tou are not bound — good swimmer though you be — to rescue a man from drowning, lest he should clutch too eagerly and peril your safety. Tou are not bound to risk the chance of a 454 DAYElfPOBT DOTK. typhus by visiting a poor friend on life sick-bed. Tou are mot bound to aid charities you but half approve — to assist people who have been improvident — to- associate with many who are uninteresting to you. But why go on with this expurgatorial catalogue ? It is quite clear the only things " one is bound" to do are those the world will enforce at his hands ; and let our selfishness be ever so inveterate, and ever so crafty, the majority will beat us, and the Ayes have it at last ! "Now, few men had a longer list of the things they were " not bound to do-' 1 than Annesley Beecber ; in reality, if the balance were to be struck between them and those he acknowledged to< be obligatory, it would have been like Fafetaff's sack to the miserable morsel of bread. Mem of his stamp faney themselves very wise in their generation. They are not easy-natirared, open, trustful, and free-handed, like that Pharisee ! Take my word for it, the system works not so well as it looks, and they pass their existence in a narrow prison-ward of their own selfish instincts — their fears their fetters, their cowardly natures heavy as any chains ! Beeeher reasoned somewhat in this wise. Grog- was " not bound" to destroy the acceptances. He might have held them in terrorism over him for a life-long, and used them, at last, if occasion served. At all events, they were valuable securities, which it was pure and wanton waste to burn. Still, the act being done, Beeeher was "bound" in the heaviest recognisances to his own heart to profit by the motion ; and the great question with him was, what was the best and shortest road to that desirable object ? Supposing Lackington all right — no dis- puted claim to the title, no litigation of the estate — Beecher's best course had possibly been to slip has cable, make all sail, and part company with Davis for ever. One grave difficulty, however, op- posed itself to this scheme. How was it possible for any man walk- ing the earth to get out of reach of Grog Davis ? Had there been a planet allotted for the especial use of Peers — were there some bright star above t& which they could betake themselves and demand ad- mission by showing their patent, and from which all of inferior birth were excluded, Beeeher would assuredly have availed himself of his privilege ; but, alas ! whatever inequalities pervade life, there is but one earth to bear us living, and cover us when dead ! Now, the por- tion of that earth which constitutes the continent of Europe, Davis knew like a Detective. A more hopeless undertaking could not be imagined than to try to escape Mm. Great as was his craft, it was nothing to his courage — a courage that gave him a sort of affinity to a wild animal 1 , so headlong, reckless, and desperate did it seem. Provoke him, he was ever ready for the conflict ; outrage him, and DAVENPOET DUBS'. 433 only your life's Mood could be the expiation. And what an outrage had it been if Beecher had taken this moment — the first, perhaps the only one in all his life, in which Da>vis had accomplished a noble and generous action — to desert him ! How he could picture to' his mind Grog, when the tidings were told him ! — not overwhelmed by astonishment — not stunned by surprise — not irresolute- even for a second, but starting up like a wounded tiger, and eager for pursuit, his fierce eyeballs' glaring, and his sinewy hands closed with a convul- sive grip. It was clear, therefore, that escape was impossible. What, then, was the alternative that remained ? To abide — sign a life-long partnership with Grog, and marry Lizzy. " A stiff lime of country — a very stiff line of country, Annesley, my boy," said he, addressing himself r " many a dangerous rasper, many a smashing fenc& there — have you nerve for it. ?" Now Beecher knew life weE enough to see that such an existence was v in reality, little else than a steeple-chase, and he questioned himself gravely whether he possessed head or hand for the effort. Grog, to be sure, was a marvellous trainer, and Lizzy — what might not Lizzy achieve of success, with her beauty, her gracefulness, and her genius ! It was not till after a long course of reflection that, her image came up before Mm j but when once it did come, it was master of the scene. How he recalled all her winning ways,, her syren voice, her ready wit, her easy, graceful motion, her playful manner, that gave to her beauty so many new phases of attraction ! "What a fascination; was it that in her com- pany he never remembered a sorrow — nay, to think of her was the best solace he had ever found against the pain of gloomy reveries. She was never out of humour, never out of spirits — always brilliant, sparkling, and happy-minded. "What a glorious thing to obtain a share of such a nature — the very next best thing to having it oneself I "But all this was not Love," breaks in my impatient reader. Very true j I admit it in all humility. It was not what you, nor perhaps I, would call by that name ; but yet it was all that Annesley Beecher had to offer in that regard. Have youi never remarked the strange and curious efforts made by men who have long lived on narrow fortunes to acquit themselves respectably on succeeding to larger means ? They know wel enough that they need not pinch, and screw, and squeeze any longer —that Fortune has enlarged her boundaries, and that they can enter into wider, richer, and pleasanter pasturage — and yet, for the life of them, they cannot make the venture ! or if they do, it is with a sort of convulsive, spasmodic effort far more painful than pleasurable. 456 DAVENPOKT DUNN. Their old instincts press heavily upon them, and bear down all the promptings of their present prosperity ; they really do not want all these bounties of Fate — they are half crushed by the shower of blessings. So is it precisely with your selfish man in his endeavours to expand into affection, and so was it with Beecher when he tried to be a lover. Some moralists tell us that, even in the best natures, Love is essentially a selfish passion. "What amount of egotism, then, does it not include in those who are far — very far — from being "the best?" "With all this, let us be just to poor Beecher. Whatever there was -of heart about him, she had touched ; whatever of good, or kind, or gentle, in his neglected being existed, she had found the way to it. If he were capable of being anything better, she alone could have ■aided the reformation. If he were not to sink still lower and lower, it was to her helping hand his rescue would be owing. And some- how — though I cannot explain how — he felt and knew this to be the case. He could hear generous sentiments from her, and not deem, them hypocrisy. He could listen to her words of trust and hope- fulness, and yet not smile at her credulity. She had gained that amount of ascendancy over his mind which subjugated all his own prejudices to her influence, and, like all weak natures, he was never so happy as in slavery. Last of all, what a prize it would be to be the husband of the most beautiful woman in Europe ! There was a notoriety in that, far above the fame of winning " Derbys," or break- ing Boulette Banks ; and he pictured to himself how they would journey through the Continent, admired, worshipped, and envied, for already he had invested himself with the qualities of his future wife, and gloried in the triumphs she was so sure to win. . " By Jove ! I'll do it," cried he, at last, as he slapped his hand on the table. " I don't care what they'll say, I will do it ; and if there's any fellow dares to scoff or sneer at it, Grog shall shoot him. I'll make that bargain with him ; and he'll like it, for he loves fighting." He summed up huLresolution by imagining that the judgment of the world would run somehow in this fashion : " Wonderful fellow, that Annesley Beecher ! It's not above a year since his brother lost the title, and there he is, now, married to the most splendid woman in Europe, living like a Prince — denying himself nothing, no matter what it cost — and all by his own wits ! Show me his equal any- where ! Lackington used to call him a ' flat.' I wonder what he'd say, now !" DAVENPOBT DUNN. 457 CHAPTEE LYI. A DAKK. CONFIDENCE. - What a wound would it inflict upon our self-love were we oc- casionally to know that the concessions we have extorted from our own hearts by long effort and persuasion would be deemed matters of very doubtful acceptance by those in whose favour they were made. "With what astonishment should we learn that there was nothing so very noble in our forgiveness — nothing so very splendid in our generosity ! I have been led to this reflection by thinking over Annesley Beecher's late resolve, and wondering what effect ib might have had on him could he have overheard what passed in the very chamber next his own. Though Lizzy Davis was dressed and ready to come down to break- fast, she felt so ill and depressed that she lay down again on her bed, telling the maid to close the shutters and leave her to herself. ""What's this, Lizzy? What's the matter, girl?" said Davis, entering, and taking a seat at her bedside. " Tour hand is on fire." " I slept badly — scarcely at all," said she, faintly, " and my head feels as if it would split with pain." " Poor child !" said he, as he kissed her burning forehead ; " I was the cause of all this. Tes, Lizzy, I know it, but I had been staving off this hour for many and many a year. I felt in my heart that you were the only one in all the world who could console or cheer me, and yet I was satisfied to forego it all — to deny myself what I yearned after — just to spare you." The words came with a slow and faltering utterance from him, and his lips quivered when he had done speaking. ^ " I'm not quite sure the plan was a good one," said she, in a low voice. " Nor am I now," said he, sternly ; " but I did it for the best." She heaved a heavy sigh, and was silent. " Mayhap I thought, too," said he, after a pause, "that when you looked back at all the sacrifices I had made for you, how I toiled and laboured — not as other men toil and labour, for my handicraft was always exercised with a convict ship in the offing There, you needn't shudder now ; I'm here beside you safe. Well, I thought 45® BAVENPOET DTHTTT. you'd say, ' After all, he gave me every advantage in his power. If he couldn't bestow on me station and riches, he made me equal to their enjoyment if they ever befel me. He didn't bring me down to his own level, nor to feel the heartburnings of his own daily life, but he made me, in thought and feeling, as good as any lady in the land.'" " And for what — to what end?" said she, wildly. " That you might be such, one day, girl," said he, passionately. "Do you think I have mot known every hour, for the last thirty odd years, what I might have been, had I been trained, and schooled, and taught the things that others know ? Have I mot felt that I had pluck, daring-, energy, and persistence that only wanted knowledge to best them all, and leave them nowhere ? Have I not said to myself ' She has every one of these, and she has good looks to boofej and why shouldn't she go in and earry away the cup P And do- you think, when I said that, that I wasn't striking a docket of bankruptcy against my own heart for ever ? for to make you great was to. make me childless !" Lizzy covered her face with her hands, but never uttered a word. "I didn't need any one to tell me>" resumed he, fiercely, "that training you up in luxury and refinement wasn't th© way to make yoa satisfied with poverty, or proud of such a father as myself. , I knew deuced well what I was preparing for myself there. ' But no matter,' I said, ' come what will, she shall have a fair start of it. Show me the fellow will try a balk — show me the: man will cross the course while she's running.' ** Startled by the thick and guttural utterance of hia words, Lizzy removed her hands from her face, and stared eagerly at him. Strongly shaken by passion as he was, every Kite and lineament tense with emotion, there was a marvellous resemblance between her beautiful features and the almost demoniac savagery of his. Had he not been at her side, the expression was only that of intense pain on a face of surpassing beauty, but, seen through the baneful interpretation of his look, she seemed the type of a hauigbty nature spirited by the very wildest ambition. " Ay, girl," said he, with a sigh, "you've cost me more than money or money's worth; and if I ever come to have what they call a ' conscience,' I'll have an ugly score to settle on your account." " Oh, dearest father 1" cried she, bitterly, " do not wring- my heart by sueh words as these." " There, yea shall hear no more of it," said he, withdrawing his hand from her graspand crossing his- arm on his breast. BAVEKPOET DUNN. 459 "Nay," said she, fondly, "you 1 shall tell me all and everything. It has cost you heavily to make this confidence to me. Let us try if it cannot requite us both. I know the wwst. No ?" cried she; in terror; as he shook his head ; " why, what is there remains behind ?" " How shall I tell you what remains behind ?" broke he in, sternly ; "how shall I teach you to know the world as I know it — to feel that every look bent on me is insult — every word, uttered as I pass a sarcasm — that fellows rise from the table when I sit down at it ? and though-, now and then, I am lueky enough to catch one who goes too far, and make him a warning to others, they can do enough to spite me, and yet never come within twelve paces of me. I went oyer to Neuweid yesterday to fetch my letters from the post. You'd fancy that in a little village on this untravelled bank of the Ehine I might have rested an hour to Hw.it my horse and eat my breakfast unmolested and without insult. Tou'd say that in a secluded spot like that I would be safe. Not a bit of it. Scandal has its hue and cry, and every man that walks the earth is its agent. Two young fellows fresh from England — by their dress, their manner, and their bad French, I judged them to be young students from Oxford or Cambridge — breakfasted in the same room with me-, and deeming me a foreigner, and therefore — for it is a right English conclusion — unable to under- stand them, talked moat freely of events and people before me. I paid little attention to their vapid talk till my ear caught the name of Beecher. They were discussing him and a lady who had been seen in his company at Aix-la-Chapelle. Tes, they had seen her repeatedly in her rides and drives, followed her to the Cursaal, and stared her at the Opera. They were quite enthusiastic about her beauty, and only puzzled to know who this mysterious creature might be that looked like a Queen and dressed like a Queen. One averred she was not Beecher's sister — the Peerage told them that ; as little was she his wife. Then came the other and last alternative. And I had to sit still and listen to every pro and con of this stupid converse — their miserable efforts to reason, or their still more contemptible attempts to jest, and dare not stand up before them and say, ' Hold your slanderous tongues, for she is my daughter,* because, to the first question th^jv would put to me, I must say, ' My name is Davis — Christopher Davis* — ay, ' Grog Davis,' if they would have it so. No, no, girl, all your beauty, all your grace, all your fascinations would not support such a name — the best horse that ever won the Derby will break down if you overweight him ; and so, I bad to leave my breakfast uneaten and come away how I couli For one brief moment I was irresolute. I felt that if I let them off so easily I'd pine and fret over it after, 460 DATENPOET DTO1T. and, maybe, give way to passion some other time with less excuse ; but my thoughts came back to you, Lizzy, and I said, ' "What signifies about me ? I have no object, no goal in life, but her. She must not be talked of, nor made matter for newspaper gossip. She will one day or other hold a place at which slander and malevolence only talk in whispers, and even these must be uttered with secrecy!' I couldn't help laughing as I left the room. One of them declined to eat salad because it was unwholesome. Little he knew on what a tiny chance it depended whether that was to be his last breakfast. The devilish pleasure of turning back and telling him so almost over- came my resolution." " There was, then, an impropriety in my living at Aix as I did ?" asked Lizzy, calmly. " The impropriety, as you call it, need not have been notorious," said he, in angry confusion. " If people will attract notice by an ostentatious display — horses, equipage, costly dressing, and so on, the world will talk of them. Tou couldn't know this, but Beecher did. It was his unthinking folly drew these bad tongues on you. It is a score he'll have to settle with me yet." " But, dearest papa, let me bear the blame that is my due. It was I — I myself — who encouraged, suggested these extravagances. I fancied myself possessed of boundless wealth ; he never undeceived me ; nay, he would not even answer my importunate questions as to my family, my connexions, whence we came, and of what county." " If he had," muttered Grog," " I'd be curious to have heard his narrative." " I saw at last that there was a secret, and then I pressed him no more." " And you did well. Had you importuned, and had he yielded, it had been worse for him." " Just as little did I suspect," continued she, rapidly, " that any reproach could attach to my living in his society : he was your friend ; it was at your desire he accepted this brief guardianship ; he never by a word, a look, transgressed the bounds of respectful courtesy ; and I felt all the unconstrained freedom of old friendship in our intercourse." " All his reserve and all your delicacy won't silence evil tongues, girl. I intended you to have stayed a day or two, at most, at Aix. Tou passed weeks there. "Whose fault that, you say ? Mine — of course mine, and no one else's. But what but my fault every step in your whole life ? Why wasn't I satisfied to bring you up in my DATENPOET DUNN. 461 own station, with rogues and swindlers for daily associates ? then I might have had a daughter who would not be ashamed to own me." " Oh, that I am not ; that I will never be," cried she, throwing her arm around his neck. " What has your whole life been but a sacrifice to me ? It may be that you rate too highly these great prizes of life ; that you attach to the station you covet for me a value I cannot concur in. Still, I feel that it was your love for me prompted this hope, and that while you trod the world darkly and painfully, you purchased a path of light and pleasantness for me." " Tou have paid me for it all by these words," said he, drawing his hand across his eyes. " I'd work as a daily labourer on the road — I'd be a sailor before the mast — I'd take my turn with a chain- gang, and eat Norfolk Island biscuit, if it could help to place you where I seek to see you." " And what is this rank to which you aspire so eagerly ?" " I want you to be a Peeress, girl. I want you to be one of the proudest guild the world ever yet saw or heard of ; to have a station so accredited that every word you speak, every act you do, goes forth with its own authority." " But, stay," broke she in, " men's memories will surely carry them back to who I was." " Let them, girl. Are you the stuff to be chilled by that ? Have I made you what you are, that you cannot play their equal ? There are not many of them better-looking — are there any cleverer or better informed ? Even those Oxford boys said you looked like an Em- press. If insult will crush you, girl, you've got little of my blood in you." Lizzy's face flushed scarlet, and her eyes glittered wildly, as they seemed to say, " Have no fears on that score." Then, suddenly changing to an ashy pallor, and in a voice trembling with intense feel- ing, she said : " But why seek out an existence of struggle and conflict ? It is for me and my welfare that all your anxieties are exercised. Is it not possible that these can be promoted without the dangerous risk of this ambition ? Tou know life well — tell me, then, are there not some paths a woman may tread for independence, and yet cause no blush to those who love her best? Of the acquirements you have bestowed upon me, are there not some which could be turned to this account ? I could be a governess." " Do you know what a governess is, girl ? — a servant in the garb of a lady ; one whose mind has been cultivated, not to form resources for herself, but to be drained and drawn on by others. They used to kill a serf, in the middle ages, that a noble might warm his feet -in 462 DAVENPOBT DUNN. the hot entrails ; our modern civilisation is satiated by driving many a poor girl crazy, to cram some stupid numskull with a semblance of knowledge. You shall not be a governess." " There is the stage, then," cried she. " I'm vain enough to imagine I should succeed there." " I'll not hear of it," broke in Davis, passionately. " If I was certain you could act like Siddons herself, you should not walk the boards. I know what a theatre is. I know the life of coarse familiarity it leads to. The corps is a family gathered together like what jockeys call ' a scratch team' — a wheeler here, and a leader there, with just smartness enough to soar above the level of a dull audi- ence, crammed with the light jest of low comedy, and steered by no higher ambition than a crowded benefit, or a junketing at Green- wich. How would you consort with these people ?" " Still, if I achieved success " " I won't have it — that's enough. I tell you, girl, that there is but one course for " But he. escaped ?" cried she. " That he did, and carried his prisoner safe into- the; lines, and pre- sented him to the general, modestly, remarking he is safer here than over yonder — pointing to Sebastopol; and strangest part of the whole thing he turns out to be an Englishman." "An Englishman?" " Yes. He was serving, by some strange accident, on G-eneral La Marmora's staff, as a simple orderly, though evidently a man of some education and position — one of those wild young bloods, doubtless, that had gone too fast at home,, but who really do us no discredit when it comes to a Question of pluck, and daring." "Do us no discredit!" cried she? '." and have you nothing more generous to say <>f onewbQ has agsertedthe honour of England so nobly' in the face of an entire arifiy? JRq us mo discredit ! why, one sueh feat as this adds more glory to the nation than all the schemes of all the jobbers who deal in. things' like these." And she threw con- temptuously from her the coloured plans and pictures that littered the table.- " Dear me, Miss Kellett,- here's a whole ink-bottle spilled over the Davenport Obelisk." : "Do us no discredit!" burst out she. again. "Are we really the nation of shopkeepers that Erance calls us ? Have we no pride save in successful bargaining ? no glory save in growing rich ? Is money- getting so close at the nation's heart that whatever retards or delays its hoardings savours of misfortune ? When you were telling me that anecdote, how I envied the land that owned such a. hero ; and when you said he. was our own — our countryman— my heart felt bursting with gratitude. Tell me his name.'' " His name — his name — how strange that I should have forgotten it, for, as I told you, I toasted Jus health only yesterday." "Yes, you remember the sherry !" said she, bitterly. Mr. Hankes's cheek tingled and grew crimson. It was a mood of passionate excitement he had never witnessed in her before, and he was astounded at the change in.one usually so calm and self-possessed. It was then in no small confusion that he turned over the letter 476 JBAVEUPOBT DUMN. before him to find something which might change the topic in dis- cussion. " Ah, here is a matter," said he, referring once more to Dunn's letter. " He says : ' Beg of Miss Kellett to see a small holding called " Kilmaganagh ;" I cannot exactly say where, but it lies to the north of Bantry Bay. I suspect that it possesses few recommendations such as would entitle it to a place in the " scheme," but, if to be had on reasonable terms, I would be well pleased to obtain it. Driscoll had effected a part purchase, but having failed to pay up the instal- ment due last March, his claim lapses. By the way, can you ascertain for me where this same Driscoll has gone to ? It is now above four months since I have heard of him. Trace him if possible. As to Kilmaganagh, tell Miss K. that she may indulge that generosity she is not indisposed to gratify, and be on this occasion a liberal purchaser.' He fancies you lean a little to the country people, Miss Bella," said Hankes, as he stole a cautious glance at her now heightened colour. " ' I will even consent to what is called a fancy price for the tenement, and certainly not lose it for a hundred or two above its actual value. Look to this, and look to Driscoll.' There's a riddle here, Miss Bella, if we knew how to read it," said Hankes, as he looked over the few lines once more. " I have but scant wits to read riddles, Mr. Hankes. Let us see where this place lies." And she turned to a large map on the table, the paths and cross-paths of which had been marked in different coloured inks by her own hand. " I remember the name. There was an old tower called Kilmaganagh Fort, which used to be visible from the bay. Tes, here it is— a strange, wild spot, too, and, as Mr. Dunn opines, scarcely available for his great scheme." " But he has so many great schemes," said Hankes, with a sly and sidelong glance towards her. Sybella, however, paid no attention to the remark, but, leaning over the map, continued to trace out the line of route to the spot in question. " By crossing Bantry Bay at Gortalassy, one might save above thirty miles of way. I have been over the road before, and remember it well." " And you really mean to undertake the journey ?" asked Hankes, in some astonishment. " Of course I do. I ask nothing better than to be fully occupied, and am well pleased when in so doing I can exchange the desk for the saddle, or almost better, the stern- sheets of a Bantry hooker. Tou are not a woman, and you cannot feel, therefore, the sense of pride inspired by mere utility." DATBNPOBT DUNN. 477 " I wish I might ask you a favour, Miss Kellett," said he, after a moment's thought. " A favour of me /" said she, laughing, as though the idea amused her.' "Yes," said he, resuming. "I would beg to be permitted to ac- company you on this same journey. I have never seen any of these wild, untravelled tracts, and it would be a great additional charm to visit them in your company." " So far as I am concerned, I grant you the permission freely, but it were well for you to remember that you must not only be well mounted, but prepared to ride over some rough country. I go usually as the crow flies, and, as nearly as I can, the same pace too. Now, between this and Loughbeg, there are at least three trying fences : one a wall with a deep drop beyond it, and another a steep bank, where I remember that somebody narrowly escaped having an ugly fall ; there's a small estuary, too, to cross, near Gortalassy. But I am ashamed to enumerate these petty obstacles ; such as they are, they are the only ones — there are none on my part." " When do you mean to set out ?" asked Hankes, in a tone far less eager than his former question. " There's a full moon to-morrow night, so that leaving this about midnight we might reach the bay by six or seven o'clock, and then, if we should be fortunate with the wind, arrive at Kilmaganagh by about four o'clock. Taking there three or four hours, to see the place, we could start again about eight, or even nine " " Good Heavens ! that gives nothing for repose — no time to re- cruit." " Tou forget there are fully five hours on board the boat. I'll not be the least offended if you sleep the entire time. If there's not wind enough to take in a reef, I'll give the tiller to old Mark Spillane, and take a sleep myself." "It is really like a Tatar journey," said the terrified Hankes. " I have told you the worst of it, I must own," said she, laughing, " for I feel I have no right to obtain your escort on false pretences." "And you would go alone over this long distance — land and sea?" " Land and sea are very grand words, Mr. Hankes, for some five- and-twenty miles of heather and a few hours in an open boat; but such as they are, I would go them alone." Mr. Hankes would like to have said something complimentary — something flattering, but it did not exactly occur to him how he was to do it. To have exalted her heroism would be like a confession of his own poltroonery ; to have seen any surprising evidence of bold- 478 DAVMTPOET DUNN. ness in her daring might possibly reflect npon her delicacy. He felt — none could have felt more thoroughly — that she was very courageous and very full of energy, but somehow these were precisely qualities he was not in a position to estimate, and he knew in his heart how feebly any words of his would fall in praise of siach gifts* " Well, I'll go," said he, with a sigh, the words being addressed to himself, though uttered loud enough to catch Sybella's ears. " Nay, Mr. Hankes," said she, smiling good-naturedly, " be ad- vised by me, have nothing to say to this journey ; it will not reward you." " "Who knows ?'* said he, catching at the last words with a sudden- ness that half startled her. " The country," continued she, " ia bleak and dreary till you ap- proach the sea, and there all depends on weather, since, Bantry may be bright as an Italian lake, or overshadowed with cloud and fog like a Dutch sea-coast. The people are poor, and scarcely civilised — in fact, I feel no pride in exhibiting such a tract to a stranger." " I'd like to go," said he again, with a shade more of firmness in the accent. " Be it so," said she, half talking to herself. " Of this Ireland of long ago there will soon be no vestige. It will be interesting, doubt- less, to see the last receding steps of a departing race." She paused for a while, and then, in a voice full, and round, and forcible, added, " I am not, however, one of those who think that to promote the advancement of this country you. must treat the Irishman as the Yankee does the Eed Indian. Others, I am aware, are differently minded. They would say, Pour into this land the fresh energies of Yorkshire — the active industry of the Lothians. Mr. Dunn, all Irish though he be,, is of this opinion. Are you, too, a disciple of this school, Sir ?" " "Well, I own — I protest — I am free to confess, Miss Kellett," mumbled Hankes, in deep embarrassment, " I have always thought the Irish so indolent and so lazy " " Take this note, Patsy," broke in Sybella, as she hastily scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper — " take this note over to Bantry, and, as you pass Gortalassy, tell Mark Spellane I'll want the ' hooker' to- morrow at daybreak. 'Indolence,' Mr. Hankes, and 'laziness,' would scarcely cross seventeen miles of mountain, as that boy will, in less than three hours. I'll back him — and I know of fifty more, his equals — against the ' "West Biding,' to-morrow." " Well, but when we speak of industry—" BAVENPOBT DUNN. 479 " I know that," broke she in; "these are the habits of an active^ not of a hardworking, people. But you were talking a few minutes back of the Crimea. Are my poor countrymen backward there ? Do you detect in them any shrinking from their share of toil — any sluggish reluctance to the hard work of campaigning life ? Ask their officers this — I mean their own officers, for they alone can speak for them." "That's the very essence of Iriah barbarism," cried Hankes, with the triumph of a man who had detected a blot. " They must be appealed to in a peculiar language — addressed in a peculiar way. If one hasn't the key to their very strange natures, there's nothing to be done with them." * " And no great disparagement in all that," cried she, boldly. "At all events, the reproach will apply to what Mr. Hankes would call their ' betters.' "Without the key to the hearts of your great men on 'Change, where would the 'Grand Grlengariif scheme' have been 2 If we had not bethought us that there are such passions as avarice and usury, how could we have devised that ingenious speculation by which my Lord is to become a millionnaire, and Mr. Dunn his prophet?" What was it in her tone, as she spoke these words, that made Mr. Hankes tremble S Had she really divined that there was rottenness in the core of that stupendous enterprise £ Did she know, or did she even suspect, that the great venture was not the solvent, safe secure investment it professed to be ? Very terrible were such fears, and Mr. Hankes could not endure without investigating them. " But surely, Miss Kellett," he began, " you can draw a broad distinction between the antiquated prejudices of a peasantry and the clear-headed calculations of a clever capitalist. Here we have a splendid plan — a grand scheme — not merely to enrich the fund- holder " " Oh, Sir, spare me, I beseech you, that eloquent peroration about the benefits to be bestowed upon the people, of which I am beginning to grow weary. I have lent my own humble aid to propagate that notion — I had almost said, that fallacy. Only hear me out," said she, as he tried to interrupt. " I began my duties here in the most sanguine of all moods. Heaven knows not what dreams I had of a land of abundance and content. "Well, I have seen the abundance — the wealth has really poured in — every one is richer, better fed, clothed, housed, and cared for, and almost in an equal ratio are they grown more covetous, grasping, envious, and malevolent You won't 480 DATENPOBT DUNN. let me finish," cried she, as he showed an increasing impatience. " Well, perhaps as we stroll along the cliffs to-morrow, you will be more disposed to listen — that is, if I have not already terrified you from accepting the companionship." " Oh no ! by no means ; but how are we to go — do we drive ?" " Drive ! why, my dear Mr. Hankes, it is only a Kerry pony has either legs or head for the path we must follow. Cast your eye along this coast-line ; jagged and fanciful as it looks, it conveys no notion of its rugged surface of rock, and its wild and darksome precipices. Take my word for it, you have as much to learn of the scenery as of the temperament of the land." " But I'd'like to go," repeated he, his accent being marvellously little in accordance with the sentiment. " Nothing easier, Sir. I'll give orders to have a pony — a most reliable pony — ready for you here to-morrow evening, when I shall expect you at tea." Mr. Hankes bowed his grateful acknowledgments. "I suspect, Sir," said she, playfully, " that I have guessed your reason for this journey." " My reason, my dear Miss Kellett," said he, in confusion — "my reason is simply the pleasure and honour of your company, and the opportunity of visiting an interesting scene with — with — with " " No matter for the compliment, but I began really to imagine that you wished to learn my secret of bargaining with the people — that you wanted to witness one of these contracts you have heard so much of. "Well, Sir, you shall have it : our sole secret is, we trust each other." DAVENPOBT DTJNN. 481 CHAPTEE LVIII. A BRIDLE-PATH. Sybella Kdllett was less than just when she said that the country which lay between the Hermitage and Bantry Bay had few claims to the picturesque. It may possibly have been that she spoke with reference to what she fancied might have been Mr. Hankes's judgment of such a scene. There was, indeed, little to please an English eye : no rich and waving woods — no smiling corn-fields — no expanse of swelling lawn or upland of deep meadow, but there was a wild and grand desolation, a waving surface fissured with deep clefts opening on the sea, which boomed in many a cavern far beneath. There were cliffs upright as a wall, hundreds of feet in height, on whose bare summits some rude remains were still traceable — the frag- ment of a church, or shrine, or some lone cross, symbol of a faith that dated from centuries back. Heaths of many a gorgeous hue — purple, golden, and azure — clad a surface ever changing, and ferns that would have overtopped a tall horseman mingled their sprayey leaves with the wild myrtle and the arbutus. The moon was at her full as Sybella, accompanied by Mr. Hankes, and followed by an old and faithful groom — a servant of her father's in times past — took her way across this solitary tract. If my reader is astonished that Mr. Hankes should have offered himself for such an expedition, it is but fair to state that the surprise was honestly shared in by that same gentleman. Was it that he made the offer in some moment of rash enthusiasm ? — had any impulse of wild chivalry mastered his calmer reason ? — was it that curious ten- dency which occasionally seems to sway Cockney natures to ascend mountains, cross dangerous ledges, or peep into volcanic craters ? I really cannot aver that any of these was his actual motive, while I have my suspicion that a softer, a gentler, though a deeper sentiment influenced him on this occasion. Mr. Hankes — to use a favourite phrase of his own — " had frequent occasion to remark" Miss Kellett's various qualities of mind and intelligence ; he had noticed in her the most remarkable aptitude for "business." She wrote and answered letters with a facility quite marvellous; details, however complicated, became by her treatment simple and easy ; no difficulties seemed to 2i 482 DAVENPOllT DUNS. deter her ; and she possessed a gift— one of the rarest and most valuable of all — never to waste a moment on the impracticable, but to address herself, with a sort of intuition, at once, to only such means as could be rendered available. Now, whether it was that Mr. Hankes anticipated a time when Mr. Dunn, in his greatness, might soar above the meaner cares of a business life — when, lifted into the elysian atmosphere of the nobility, he would look down with contemptuous apathy at the struggles and cares of enterprise — or whether Mr. Hankes, from sources of know- ledge available peculiarly to himself, knew that the fortunes of that great man were not built upon an eternal foundation, but Bhared in that sad lot which threatens all things human with vicissitude — whether stern facts and sterner figures taught him that all that splen- did reputation, all that boundless influence, all that immense riches, might chance, one day or other, to be less real, less actual, and less positive, than the world now believed them to be — whether, in a word, Mr. Hankes felt that Fortune, having smiled so long and so blandly on 'her favourite, might not, with that capriciousness so generally ascribed to her, assume another and very different aspect, — whatever the reason, in short, he deemed the dawn of his own day was approaching, and that, if only true to himself, Mr. Hankes was sure to be the man of the " situation," the next great star in the wide hemisphere that stretches from the Stock Exchange to the Marshalsea, and includes all from Belgravia to Boulogne-stir-Mer. Miss Kellett's abilities, her knowledge, her readiness, her tact, a certain lightness of hand in the management of affairs that none but a woman ever possesses, and scarcely one woman in ten thousand combines with the more male attributes of hard common sense, pointed her out to Mr. Hankes as one eminently suited to aid his ambition. Now, men married for money every day in the week, and why not marry for what secured not alone money, but fame, station, and influence ? Mr. Hankes was a widower ; his own ex- perience of married life had not been fortunate. The late Mrs. Hankes was a genius, and had the infirmities of that unsocial class : she despised her husband, quarrelled with him, lampooned him in a book, and ran off with the editor of a small weekly review that eulogised her novel. It was supposed she died in Australia — at least, she never came back again ; and as the first lieutenant gravely con- firms the sun's altitude when he mutters, " Make it noon," so Mr. Hankes, by as simple a fiat, said, " Make her dead," and none dis- puted him. At all events, he was a widower by brevet, and eligible to be gazetted a husband at any moment. DAVENPOBT DUNN. 40«f Miss Kellett possessed many personal attractions, nor was he alto- gether insensible to them ; but he regarded them, after all, pretty much as the intended purchaser of an estate might have regarded an ornamental fish-pond or a flower-garden on the property — some- thing, in short, which increased the attraction, but never augmented the value. He was glad they were there, though they by no means would have decided him to the purchase;. He knew, besides, that the world set a high price on these things., and he was not sorry to possess what represented value of any kind. It was always scrip- shares — securities, even, although one could not well say how, when, or where the dividend was to be paid. There was another consideration, too, weighed materially with him. The next best thing, in Mr. Hankes's estimation, to marrying into a good connexion, was to have none at all — no brothers, no sisters-in-law, no cousins-german or otherwise, no uncles, aunts, or any good friends of parental degree. Now, except a brother in the Crimea — with an excellent chance of being killed — Sybella had none belonging to her. In the happy phrase of advertisements, she had no incumbrances. There was no one to insist upon this or that settle- ment — none to stipulate for anything in her favour ; and these were, to his thinking, vast advantages; Out of these various considera- tions our reader is now to fashion some of the reasons which induced Mr. Hankes to undertake an excursion alike foreign to his tastes and uncongenial to his habits; but as a placeman. would not decline the disagreeables of a sea voyage as the preliminary to reaching the colony he was to govern, so this gentleman consoled himself by think- ing that this was the sole penalty attached to a very remunerative ambition. If Sybella was not without some astonishment at his proposal to accompany her, she never gave herself the slightest trouble to explain the motive. She acceded to his wish from natural courtesy and the desire to oblige, and that was all. He had been uniformly polite and civil in all their intercourse ; beyond that he was not a person whose companionship she would have sought or cared for, and so they rode along, chatting indifferently of whatever came uppermost— the scene, the road, the season, the condition of the few people who formed the inhabitants of this wild region, and how their condition might pos- sibly be affected by the great changes then in progress near them. Guarded and cautious as he was in all he said, Mr. Hankes could not entirely conceal how completely he separated in his own mind the success of the great scheme and the advantage that might accrue to the people ; nor was she slow to detect this reservation. She took 2i2 484 DATEKPOET DUNN. too true and just a view of her companion's temper and tone to ap- proach this theme with the scruples that agitated herself, but at once said: " Let us suppose this scheme to be as prosperous as its best friends can wish it, Mr. Hankes; that you all — I mean, you great folk, who are directors, chairmen, secretaries, and so forth — become as rich and powerful as you desire, see your shares daily increasing' in value, your speculations more and more lucrative, what becomes of the people — the poor man — all this while?" " Why, of course he participates in all these successes ; he grows rich too ; he sells what he has to sell at a better market, obtains higher wages for his labour, and shares all our prosperity." " Granted. But who is to teach him the best use of this newly- acquired prosperity ? Tou, and others like you, have your tastes already formed ; the channels are already made in which your afflu- ence is to run : not so with him ; abundance may — nay, it will, suggest waste, which will beget worse. "Who are to be his guides ? — who his examples ?" " Oh, as to that, his increase of fortune will suggest its own appro- priate increase of wants. He will be elevated by the requirements of his own advancing condition, and even if he were not, it is not exactly any affair of ours ; we do our part when we afford him the means of a higher civilisation." " I don't think so. I suspect that not alone do you neglect a duty, but that you inflict a wrong. But come, I will take another alter- native — I will suggest — what some are already predicting — that the project will not prove a success." " "Who says that?" cried Hankes, hastily, and in his haste forget- ting his habitual caution of manner. " Many have said it. Some of those whose opinions I am accus- tomed to place trust in, have told myself that the speculation is too vast — disproportioned to the country — undertaken on a scale which nothing short of imperial resources could warrant " " But surely you do not credit such forebodings ?" broke he in. " It is of little consequence how far I credit them. I am as no- thing in the event. I only would ask, What if all were to fail ? — what if ruin were to fall upon the whole undertaking, what is to become of all those who have invested their entire fortunes in the scheme ? The great and affluent have many, ventures — they trust not their wealth to one argosy ; but how will it be with those who have em- barked their all in one vessel ?" Mr. Hankes paused, as if to reflect over his reply, and she con- DAVENPOET DTJNN. 485 tinued : " It is a question I have already dared to address to Mr. Dunn himself. I wrote to him twice on the subject. The first time I asked what guarantee could be given to small shareholders — those, for instance, who had involved their whole wealth in the enterprise. He gave me no answer. To my second application came the dry re- joinder, that I had possibly forgotten in whose service I was retained ; that I drew my resources from the Earl of Glengariff, and not from the peasantry, whose advocate I had constituted myself." " Well ?" cried Hankes, curious to hear what turn the corre- spondence took. "Well," said she, smiling gently, "I wrote again. I said it was true I had forgotten the fact of which he reminded me, but I pleaded in excuse that neither the Earl nor her Ladyship had re- freshed my memory on the circumstance by any replies to eight, or, I believe, nine letters I sent them. I mentioned, too, that though I could endure the slight of this neglect for myself, I could not put up with it for the sake of those whose interest I watched over. Hear jne out," said she, perceiving that he was about to interrupt. " It had become known in Glengariff that all the little fortune I was pos- sessed of — the few hundred pounds Mr. Dunn had rescued for me out of the wreck of our property — was invested in this scheme. Mr. Dunn counselled this employment of the money, and I consented to it. Now, this trustfulness on my part induced many others to imitate what they deemed my example." " And you really did make this investment?" said Hankes, whose eagerness could not brook longer delay. " Yes," said she, with a quiet smile, " though evidently, had I con- sulted Mr. Hankes, he would never have counselled the step." After a moment, she resumed : " I have half a mind to tell you how it happened." " I pray you let me hear it." " Well, it was in this way : Shortly after that affair of the Ossory Bank — the run for gold, I mean — I received a few hurried lines from Mr. Dunn, urging me to greater exertion on the score of the Glen- gariff scheme, and calling upon me to answer certain newspaper in- sinuations against its solvency, and so forth. Before replying to these attacks, I was of course bound to read them ; and shall I con- fess it, such was the singular force of the arguments they em- ployed,'SO reasonable did their inferences appear, and so terrible the consequences should the plan prove a failure, that I for the first time perceived that it was by no means impossible the vast superstructure we were raising might be actually on the brink of a volcano. I did 486 DAVENPOET DUNN. not like exactly to tell Mr. Dunn these misgivings ; in fact, though I attempted two or three letters to that effect, I could not, without great risk of offending, convey my meaning, and so I reflected and pondered over the matter several days, working my brain to find Bome extrication from the difficulty. At last I bethought me of this : Mr. Dunn was my guardian; by his efforts was the small frag- ment of property that fell to me rescued and saved. What if I were to request him to invest the whole of it in this scheme ? Were its solvency hut certain, where could the employment of the money be safer or more profitable ? If he consented, I might fairly suppose my fears were vain, and my misgivings unfounded. If, however, he showed any lieluetance, evenbackwardmess^to the -project, the very phrase he might employ to fdissniiade. me would have its especial significance, and I could at once have something to reason upon. Well, I wrote to him, and he answered by the next post : ' I fully coincide with your suggestion, and acting on it, you are now the possessor of fifty-four shares in the Allotment. As the moment for buying in is favourable, it is a thousand pities you could not make an equally profitable in- vestment for your brother, whose twelve hundred pounds is yielding the very inglorious interest of the Bank. 5 " " And so you took the shares ?" said Hankes, sighing ; then added, " But let me see — at what rate did you buy ?" " I am ashamed to confess, I forget ; but I know the shares were high." " After the Ossory run," muttered he — " that was about September. Shares were then something like one hundred and twenty-seven and a quarter ; higher afterwards — higher the whole month of November ; shaky towards the end of the year — very shaky, indeed, in January. No, no," said he to himself, " Dunn ought not to have done it." " I perceive," said she, half smiling, " Mr. Hankes opines that the money had been better in the Bank." " After all," continued he, not heeding her remark, " Dunn couldn't do anything else. Tou own yourself that if he had attempted to dis- suade you, you would immediately have taken alarm-f-you'd have said, ' This is all a sham. All these people will find themselves " let in" some fine morning ;' and as Dunn could very readily make good your few hundred pounds, why he was perfectly justified in the ad- vice he gave." " Not when his counsel had the effect of influencing mine," said she, quickly — " not when it served to make me a perfidious example to others. No, no, Mr. Hankes ; if this scheme be not an honest and an upright one, I accept no partnership in its details." 3 A DAVENPOET DTTOT. 487 " I am only putting a case, remember," said. .Harrises, hurriedly — "a possible but most improbable case. I am Supposing that a scheme witbthe finest prospectus, the. best Hat of directors, the most respectable referees Ao/.the empire^ to be — what shall I say ?— to be sickly — yes, sickly-^in Want of a little tonic treatment generous diet, and. so forth.":. , •; • o v;;, .'..'.• it a . •"■ • ,' " You'll have to follow me here, Mr. Hankes," broke in Sybella ; " the pathway round this cliff only admits' one>at a time. Keep blose to libe rpek, and if your head Jbe not. steady, den't 'look dowiA'? "Good Heavens ! we are nbtigawg roundtjaafc precipice .!." cried Hankes, in a voice of the wildest te5t«r. . i '^My servant will lead: your horse, rifycHi,piefer it/"s&id she,with- out answering his question; f'and mind your footing^ for fte moss is of teft slippery with t&e spray." , Sybella made a signal .with her whip, to the groom, who was now closft behindhand then, without awaiting, for more; moved on.. Hankes watched her as she descended thfc little slope to'the>base of; a large rock, around which the path wound itself on the, very verge bf an immense precipice. Even from where he: now stocwLtheisea jcould be seen surging and booming hundreds of feet below, ,and:althobgh;the night was calm and still, the ever je#tless; waves beat heavily against the rbcks, and senit masses. of froth and foam high into,- the air< l He saw her till shfc turned the angle of the path, and then she was lost to his view. . ■'-.:,. " I don't think I have ,head for it. I'm not. used- to this kind of thing," said Hankes, in a vom# of helpless despondency to the old groom, who now stood awaiting him to dismount; " Is there much danger*? Is it as bad as it looks .?'•' " 'Tis worse when, you get round the rock there," said; the groom, "for it's .always- .going dbwn. ypu.are, steeper than, the robf;of a house, with a shingle footing, and sloping outwards." > : " I'll not go a step. I'll not venture," broke in Hankes;. ,- " Indeed, I wouldn't advise your honour," said, the maOjiin a tone too sincere to be deemed sarcastic. . . t . " I k)ioW my head couldn't bear it," said he, with, the imploring accents of one who entreated a contradiction. But the old groom} too fully convinced of the sentiment to utter a word against, it^ Was now only thinking of following his mistress. .. ". ■• " Wait a moment," cried Hankes, with an immense effort, " If I were once acroBs this"— he was going to add ah epithet, but restrained himself — "this, place, is there nothing more of the same kind after* wards ?" 488 DATENPOET DUNN. " Isn't there, faith !" cried the man. " Isn't there the Clunk, ■where the beast has to step over gullies five-and-thirty or forty feet deep ? Isn't there Tim's Island, a little spot where you must turn your horse round, with the sea four hundred feet under you ? Isn't there the Devil's Nose " "There, there, you needn't go on, my good fellow; I'll turn back." " Look where she is now," said the man, pointing with his whip to a rocky ledge hundreds of feet down, along which a figure on horse- back might be seen creeping slowly along. " 'Tis there, where she's stealing along now, you need the good head and the quick hand. May I never!" exclaimed he, in terror, "if them isn't goats that's coming up to meet her ! Merciful Joseph ! what'll she do ? There, they are under the horse's legs, forcing their way through ! Look how the devils are rushing all round and about her ! If the beast moves an inch " A wild cry broke from the old man here, for a frag- ment of rock, displaced by the rushing herd, had just come thunder- ing down the cliff, and splashed into the sea beneath. " The Heavens be praised! she's safe," muttered he, piously crossing himself; and then, without a word more, and as if angry at his own delay, he pressed his horse forward to follow her. It was in vain Hankes cried to him to wait — to stop for only an instant — that he, too, was ready to go — not to leave him and desert him there — that he knew not where to turn him, nor could ever re- trace his way, — already the man was lost to view and hearing, and all the vain entreaties were uttered to the winds. As for Sybella, her perilous pathway gave her quite enough to do not to bestow a thought upon her companion ; nor, indeed, had she much recollection of him till the old groom overtook her on the sandy beach, and re- counted to her, not without a certain touch of humour, Mr. Hankes's terror and despair. "It was cruel to leave him, Ned," said she, trying to repress a smile at the old man's narrative. '' I think you must go back, and leave me to pursue my way alone." " Sorra one o' me will go back to the likes of him. 'Tis for your own self, and ne'er another, I'd be riskin' my neck in the same spot," said he, resolutely. " But what's to become of him, Ned ? He knows nothing of the country; he'll not find his way back to Grlengariff." " Let him alone ; devil a harm he'll come to. 'Tis chaps like that never comes to mischief. He'll wander about there till day breaks, DAYENPOBT DUNN. 489 and, maybe, find his way to Duff's Mill, or, at all events, the boy with the letter-bag from Caherclough is sure to see him." Even had this last assurance failed to satisfy Sybella, it was so utterly hopeless a task to overrule old Ned's resolve, that she said no more, but rode on in silence. Not so Ned ; the theme afforded him an opportunity for reflecting on English character and habits, which was not to be lost. " I'd like to see your brother John turn back and leave a young lady that way," said he, recurring to the youth whose .earliest years he had watched over. No matter how impatiently, even angrily, Bella replied to the old man's bigoted preference of his countrymen, Ned persisted in de- ploring the unhappy accident by which fate had subjected the finer and more gifted race to the control and dominion of an inferior people. To withdraw him effectually from a subject which to an Irish peasant has special attraction, she began to tell him of the war in the East and of her brother Jack, the old man listening with eager delight to the achievements of one he had carried about in his arms as a child. Her mind, filled with the wondrous stories of private letters — the intrepid daring of this one, the noble chivalry of that — she soon suc- ceeded in •winning all his attention. It was singular, however, that of all the traits she recorded, none made such a powerful appeal to the old man's heart as the generous self-devotion of those women who, leaving home, friends, country, and all, gave themselves up to the care of the sick and wounded. He never wearied of hearing how they braved death in its most appalling shape amidst the pestilential airs of the hospital, in the midst of such Horrors as no pen can pic- ture, taking on them the most painful duties, accepting fatigue, ex- haustion, and peril as the common incidents of life, braving scenes of agony such as in very recital sickened the heart, descending to all that was menial in their solicitude ' for some poor sufferer, and all this with a benevolence and a kindness that made them seem less human beings than ministering angels from Heaven. " Oh, Holy Joseph ! isn't it yourself ought to be there ?" cried the old man, enthusiastically. " Was there ever your like to give hope to a sick heart ? Who ever could equal you to cheer up the sinking spirit, and even make misery bearable ? Miss Bella, darling, did you never think of going out ?" " Ay, Ned, a hundred times," said she, sighing drearily. " I often, too, said to myself, There's not one of these ladies — for they are 490 DA.VENPOBT DUNN. ladies born and bred — who hasn't a mother, father, sisters, and brothers dear to her, and to whom she is herself dear. She leaves a home where she is loved, and where her vacant place is daily looked at with sorrow, and yet here am I, who have none to care for, none to miss me, who would carry over the sea with me no sorrows from those I was leaving, for I am friendless, surely I am well fitted for such a task " " "Well," said he, eagerly, as shte seemed to hesitate, " well, and why-^-" " It was not fear held me back," resumed she, " It was not that I shrank from the sights and sounds of agony tjhat must have been more terrible than any death; it was simply a^hope— a wish, perhaps, more than a hope — that I might be doing, service to those at home here, who, if I were to leave them, would not, have one on their side. Perhaps I overrated what I did, or could doi; perhaps I deemed my help of more value than it really was ; but every day seemed to show me that the people needed some one to counsel, and to guide them — to show them where their true interests lay^ and by what little sacri- fices they could oftentimes secure a future benefit." " That's thrue,' every Word of it. Tour name is in every cabin, with a blessing tacked to it. There's not a child doesn't say a prayer for you before he goes to sleep ; and there's many a grown man never thought of praying at all till he axed a blessing for yourself!" " With that, too," resumed she, " was coupled power, for my Lord left much to my management. I was able to help the deserving, to assist the honest and industrious ; now I aided this one to emigrate, now I could contribute a little assistance of capital. In fact, Ned* I felt they wanted me, and I knew I liked fhem. There was one good reason for not going away. Then there were other reasons," said she, falteringly. " It is not a good example to give to others to leave, no matter how humble, the spot where we have a duty, to seek out a higher destiny. I speak as a woman." " And is it thrue, MisB Bella, that it's Mister Dunn has it all here under his own hand? that the Lord owns nothing only what Dunn allows him, and that the whole place down to Eenmare river is Dunn's ?" " It is quite true, Ned, that the control and direction of all the great works here are with Mr. Dunn. All the quarries and mines, the roads, harbours, quays, bridges, docks, houses, are all in his hands." " Blessed hour ! and where does he get the money to do it all P" cried he, in amazement. DAVENPOBT DUNN. 491 Now, natural as was the question, and easy of reply as it seemed, Sybella heard it with something almost like a shock. Had the thought not occurred to her hundreds of times ? And, if so, how had she answered it ? Of course there could he no difficulty in the reply ; of course such immense speculations, such gigantic projects as Mr. Dunn engaged in, supplied wealth to any amount. But equally true was it that they demanded great means ^ they were costly achieve- ments these great lines of railroad, these vast harbours. Nor were they always successful ; Mr. Hahkes himself had dropped hints about certain "mistakes," that were very significant. The splendid word " Credit " would explain it all, doubtless, but how interpret credit to the mind of the poor peasant ?■ She tried to illustrate it by the lock of a canal, in which the water is momentarily utilised for a particular purpose, and then restored, unimpaired, to the general circulation ; but Ned unhappily damaged the imagery by remarking, " But what's to be done if there's no water?" Fortunately for her logic, the road became once more only wide enough for one to proceed at a time, and Sybella was again left to her, own musings. Scarcely conscious of the perilous path by which she advanced, she continued to meditate over the old man's words$ and wonder within herself how it was that he, the poor, unlettered peasant, should have conceived that high notion of what her mission ought to be — when and how her energies should be employed. She had been schooling herself for years to feel that true heroism consisted in devoting oneself to some humble, unobtrusive career, whose best rewards were the good done to others, where self-denial was a daily lesson, and humility a daily creed ; but, do what she could, there was within her heart the embers of the fire that burned there in childhood. The first article of that faith taught her that without danger there is no greatness — that in the hazardous conflicts where life is ventured, high qualities only are developed. "What but such noble excitement could make heroes of those men, many of whom, without such stimulus, had dropped down the stream of life unnoticEd and undistinguished ? " And shall I," cried she aloud, " go on for ever thus, living the small life of petty eares and interests, confronting no dangers beyond a dark December day, encountering no other hazards than the flippant rebuke of my employer ?" " There's the yawl, Miss Bella : she's tacking about, waiting for us," said Ned, as he pointed to a small sail-boat like a speck in the blue sea beneath ; and at the same instant a little rag of scarlet bunting was run up to the peak, to show that the travellers had been seen from the water. 492 DAVENPORT DrifN. CHAPTEE LIX. THE DISCOVERY. It is possible that my reader might not unwillingly accompany Sybella as she stepped into the little boat, and tripping lightly over the " thwarts," seated herself in the stern-sheets. The day was bright and breezy, the sea scarcely ruffled, for the wind was off the land ; the craft, although but a fishing-boat, was sharp and clean built, the canvas sat well on her, and, last of all, she who held the tiller was a very pretty girl, whose cheek, flushed with exercise, and loosely waving hair, gave to her beauty the heightened expression of which care occasionally robbed it. The broad bay, with its mountain back- ground and its wide sea reach, studded with tall three-masters, was a fine and glorious object, and as the light boat heeled over to the breeze, and the white foam came rustling over the prow, Sybella swept her fair hand through the water and bathed her brow with the action of one who dismissed all painful thought, and gave herself to the full enjoyment of the hour. Yes, my dear reader, the companionship of such a girl on such a day, in such a scene, was worth having ; and so even those rude fishermen thought it, as, stretched at full length on the shingle ballast, they gazed half bashfully at her, and then ex- changed more meaning looks with each other as she talked with them. Just possible is it, too, that some curiosity may exist as to what became of Mr. Hankes. Did that great projector of industrial enter- prise succeed in retracing his steps with safety ? did he fall in with some one able to guide him back to Glengariff ? did he regain the Hermitage after fatigue, and peril, and much self-reproach for an undertaking so foreign to his ways and habits ? and did he vow to his own heart that this was to be the last of such excursions on his part ? Had he his misgivings, too, that his conduct had not been per- fectly heroic ? and did he experience a sense of shame in retiring before a peril braved by a young and delicate girl ? Admitted to a certain share of that gentleman's confidence, we are obliged to declare that his chief sorrows were occasioned by the loss of time, the amount of inconvenience, and the degree of fatigue the expedition had cost him. It was not till late in the afternoon of the day that he chanced upon a fisherman on his way to Bantry to sell his fish. The poor fey yt^t- a/t^yf DATENPOET DUNN. 493 peasant could not speak nor understand English, and after a vain attempt at explanation on either side, the colloquy ended by Hankes joining company with the man, and proceeding along with him, whither he knew not. If we have not traced the steps of Sybella's wanderings, we are little disposed to Hnger.alorig. with those. of Mr. Hankes,. though, if his own account were to be accepted, his journey was a succession of adventures and escapes. Enough if we say that he at last abandoned his horse amid the fissured cliffs of the coast, and, as best he might, clambered over rock and precipice, through tall mazes of wet fern and deep moss, along shingly shores and sandy beaches, till he reached the little inn at Bantry, the weariest and most worn-out of men, his clothes in rags, his shoes in tatters, and he himself scarcely conscious, and utterly indifferent as to what became of him., A night's : sound sleep and a gobd breakfast were already contri- buting much to efface ' the memory of past sufferings, when Sybella Kell'ett entered his room. She had been over j to the cottage, had visited the whole locality, transacted all the .business she had; come for, and .only diverged from her homeward rou^te on hearing that. Mr. Hankes had just arrived at Bantry. Bather apologising" for having leftMm thaji accusing him of deserting, #er, she- rapidly proceeded to sketch out her own journey. She did not. dwell upon any incidents of the way — had they been really new or strange she would not have recalled; them— she only adverted to what had constituted the object of her coming-^.the purchase of the small > townland which she had completed. • -. ...;.. ; .., .. ;, , ; , ■ ,. " It is a dear qld .place," said" ; she, " of a fashion one so rarely sees in Ireland, the house being built after that taste known as Eliza- bethan,' and by tradition said.to havei once been inhabitedby the poet Spenser. ..It' is very small, and' so hidden. by a densesbeech wood, that .youmight pass within fifty' yards ■ of the door and never see it. This rude'drawing may give y'ousome idea of it.'', , , "And does the sea come up so close' as' this ?" asked Hankes, eagerly. . _ . : " The little fishing-boat ran into the cove you see there ; her main- sail dropped over the new-mown hay." " "Why, it's the very thing Lord Lockewood is looking-for. He is positively wild about a spot in some remote , out-of-the-way region ; and then, what you tell me of- its. being a poet's house will complete, the charm. You said Shakspeare — ■ — " " No, Spenser, the poet of the ' Faerie Queene,' " broke she in, with a smile. 494 DAVENPOET DUNN. " It's all the same ; he'll give it a fanciful name, and the associa- tion with its once owner will afford him unceasing amusement." " I hope he is not destined to enjoy the pleasure you describe." " No ?— why not, pray ?" " I hope and trust that the place may not pass into his hands ; in a word, I intend to aBk Mr. Dunn to allow me to be the purchaser. I find that the sum is almost exactly the amount I have invested in the Allotment seheme — these same shares we spoke of — and I mean to beg as a great favour — a very great favour — to be permitted to make this exchange. I want no land — nothing but the little plot around the cottage." " The cottage formerly inhabited by the poet Spenser, built in the purest Elizabethan style, and situated in a glen — you said a glen, I think, Miss Kellett ?" said Hanks—'* in a glen, whose wild enclosure, bosomed amongst deep woods, and washed by the Atlantic? " " Are you devising an advertisement, Sir?" " The very thing >I was doing, Miss Kellett. I was just sketching out a rough outline of a short paragraph for the Post." " But remember, Sir, I want to possess this spot. I wish to be its " To dispose of, of course, hereafter — to make a clear three, or four, or five thousand by the bargain, eh ?" " Nothing of the kind, Mr. Hankes. I mean to acquire enough — some one day or other — to go back and dwell there. I desire to have what I shall always, to myself, at least, call mine — my home. It will be as a goal to win, the time I can come back and live there. It will be a resting-place for poor Jack when he returns to Eng- land." Mr. Hankes pansed. It was the first time Miss Kellett had re- ferred to her own fortunes in such a way as permitted him to take advantage of the circumstance, and he deliberated with himself whe- ther he ought not to profit by the accidents How would she receive a word of advice from him ? Would it be well taken? might it pos- sibly lead to something more ? "Would she be disposed to lean on his counsels ? and, if so, what then ? Ay, Mr. Hankes, it was the " what then ?" was the puzzle. It was true his late conduct presented fent a sosry emblem of that life-long fidelity he thought of pledging ; but if she were the clear-sighted, calm-reasoning intelligence he be- lieved, she would lay little stress upon what, after all, was a mere trait of a man's temperament. Very rapidly, indeed, did these reflections 1 pass through his mind, and then he stole a glance at her as she sat quietly sipping her tea, looking a very ideal of calm tranquillity. BATEFPOBT DUNS'. 495 " This cottage," thought he, " has evidently taken a hold of her fancy. Let me see if I cannot turn the theme to my purpose." And with this intention he again brought her back to speak of the spot, which she did with all the eagerness of true interest. " As to the association with the gifted spirit of song," said Mr. Hankes, soaring proudly into the style he loved, " I conclude that to be somewhat doubtful of proof, eh>?" '' Not at all, Sir. Spenser lived at a place called Eilcoleman, from which he removed for two or three years, and returned. It was in this interval he inhabited the cottage. Curiously enough, some manuscript in his writing — part of a correspondence with the Lord- Deputy — was discovered yesterday when I was there. It was aontained in a small oak casket with a variety of other papers, some in quaint Prench, some in Latin. The box was built in so as to form a portion of a curiously carved chiinney-piecey' and chance alone led to its dis- covery." "I hope you secured the documents ?" cried Hankes, eagerly. " Tes, Sir ; here they are, box and all. The Eector advised me to carry them away for security sake." And so saying, she laid upon the table a massively-bound and strong-built box, of about a foot in length. It was with no inexperienced hand that Mr. Hankes proceeded to investigate the contents. His well practised eye rapidly caught the meaning of each paper as he lifted it up, and he continued to mutter to himself his comments upon them. " This document is an ancient grant of the lands of Cloughrennin to the monks of the abbey of Oastlerosse, and bears date 1104. It speaks of certain rights reserved to the Baron Hugh Pritchard Conway. Conway — Conway," mumbled he, twice or thrice, '' that's the very name I tried and could not re- member yesterday, Miss Kellett. Tou asked me about a certain soldier whose daring capture of a Eussian officer was going the round of the papers. The young fellow had but one arm, too ; now I re- member, his name was Conway," " Charles Conway. "Was it Charles Conway ?" cried she, eagerly ; " but it could be no dthejv-he had lost his right arm." "I'm not sure which, but he had only one, and he was called an orderly on the staff of the Piedmontese General." " Oh, the noble fellow ! I could have sworn he would distinguish himself. Tell me it all again, Sir ; where did it happen, and how, and when ?" Mr. Hankes's memory was now to be submitted to a very search- ing test, and he was called on to furnish details which might have *96 DAVENPOET DOTJN. puzzled " Our own Correspondent." Had Charles Conway been rewarded for his gallantry? what notice had his bravery elicited? "Was he promoted, and to what rank ? Had he been decorated, and with what order? Were his wounds, as reported, only trifling? Where was he now? — was he in hospital, or on service? She grew impatient at how little he knew — how little the incident seemed to have impressed him. "Was it possible," she asked, "that heroism like this was so rife that a meagre paragraph was deemed enough to record it— a paragraph, too, that forgot to state what had become of its hero ?" " Why, my dear Miss Kellett," interposed he, at length, " one reads a dozen iuch achievements every week." " I. deny it, Sir," cried she, angrily. " Our soldiers are the bravest in the world; they possess a courage that asks no aid from the promptings of self-interest, nor the urgings of vanity ; they are very lions in combat ; but it needs the chivalrous ardour of the gentleman, the man of blood and lineage, to conceive a feat like this. It was only a noble patriotism could suggest the thought of such an achievement." " I must say," said Hankes, in confusion, " the young fellow ac- quitted himself admirably ; but I would also beg to observe that there is nothing in the newspaper to lead to the conclusion you are disposed to draw. There's not a word of his being a gentleman." " But I know it, Sir — the fact is known to me. Charles Conway is a man of family ; he was once a man of fortune : he had served as • an officer in a Lancer regiment ; he had been extravagant, wild, wasteful, if you will." " Why, it can't be the Smasher you're talking of ? — the great swell that used to drive the four chesnuts in the Park, and made the wager he'd go in at one window of Stagg and Mantle's, and out at t'other?" "I don't care to hear of such follies, Sir, when there are better things to be remembered. Besides, he is my brother's dearest friend, and I wilL not hear him spoken of but with respect. Take my word for it, Sir, I am but asking what you had done, without a hint, were he only present." " I believe you — by Jove, I believe you !" cried Hankes, with an honesty in the.tone of his voice that actually made her smile. " And so, this is Conway the Smasher !" " Pray, Mr. Hankes, recal him by some other association. It is only fair to remember that he has given us the fitting occasion." " Ay, very true — what you say is perfectly just ; and, as you say, BAVENPOET DTTM. 497 he is your brother's friend. "Who would have thought it! — who would have thought it !" Without puzzling ourselves to inquire what it was that thus ex- cited Mr. Harikes's astonishment, let us observe that gentleman, as he turns over, one by one, the papers in the box, muttering his comments, meanwhile, to himself : " Old title-deeds — very old in- deed — all the ancient contracts are recited. Sir Gwellem Conway must have been a man of mark and note in those days. Here we find him holding ' in capite' from the king, twelve thousand acres, with the condition that he builds a strong castle and a ' bawn.' And these are, apparently, Sir Gwellem's own letters. Ah ! and here we have him or his descendant called Baron of Ackroyd and Bedgellert, and claimant to the title of Lackington, in which he seems successful. This is the writ of summons calling him to the Lords as Viscount Lackington. Very curious and important these papers are — more curious, perhaps, than important — for in all likelihood there have been at least half a dozen confiscations of these lands since this time." Mr. Hankes's observations were not well attended to, for Sybella was already deep in the perusal of a curious old letter from a certain Dame Marian Conway to her brother, then Sheriff of Cardigan, in which some very strange traits of Irish chieftain life were detailed. " I have an antiquarian friend who'd set great store by these old documents, Miss Kellett," said Hankes, with a sort of easy indiffer- ence. " They have no value save for such collectors ; they serve to throw a passing light over a dark period of history, and perhaps ex- plain a bygone custom or an obsolete usage. What do you mean to do with them ?" " Keep them. If I succeed in my plans about the cottage, these letters of Spenser to Sir Lawrence Esmond are in themselves a title. Of course, if I fail in my request, I mean to give them to Mr. Dunn." " These were Welsh settlers, it would seem," cried Hankes, still bending over the papers. " They came originally from Abergedley." " Abergedley !" repeated Sybella, three or four times over. " How strange !" " What is strange, Miss Kellett ?" asked Hankes, whose curiosity was eagerly excited by the expression of her features. Instead of reply, however, she had taken a small note-book from her pocket, and sat with her eyes fixed upon a few words written in her own hand: "The Conways of Abergedley — of what family^ 1 settled at any time in Ireland, and where ?" These few word^ 11 ^ 2 k ./' 338 DAYENPOBT DUNS. the day of the year when, they were written, recalled to her mind a conversation she had once held with Terry Driseoll. " What is< puzzling you, Miss Kellett ?" broke in Hankes ; " I wish I could be of any assistance to' its unravelment." " I am thinking of ' long ago ;' something that occurred years back. Didn't you mention," asked she, suddenly, that Mr. Driseoll had been the former proprietor of this cottage ?" " Yes, in so far as having paid part of the purchase-money. Does his name recal anything to interest you, Miss Kellett p" If she heard, she did not heed his question, but sat deep sunk in her own musings. If there was any mood of the human mind that had an especial fascination for Mr. Hankes, it was that frame of thought which in- dicated the possession of some mysterious subject — some deep and secret theme which the possessor retained for himself alone — a mea- sure of which none were to' know the amount, to which none were to have the key. It would be ignoble to call this passion curiosity, for in reality it was less exercised by any desire to fathom the mystery, than it was prompted by an intense jealousy of him who thus held in his own hands the solution of some portentous difficulty. To know on what schemes other men were bent — what hopes and fears filled them — by what subtle trains of reasoning th«y came to this conclu- sion or to that, were the daily exercises of his intelligence. He was eternally, as the phrase is, putting things together, comparing events, qoii&onting this circumstance with that, and drawing inferences from every chance and accident of life. Now, it was clear to him Miss Kellett had a secret — or, at least; had the clue to one. Driseoll was " in it," and this cottage was " in it ;" and, not impossibly too, some of these Conw&ys were " in it." There was something in that note-book — how was he to obtain sight of it ? The vaguest line — a word — would be enough for him. Mr. Hankes remembered how he had once com- mitted himself and his health to the care of an unskilful physician simply because the man knew a fact which he wanted, and did worm out of him during his attendance. He had, at another time, under- taken a short voyage in a most unsafe craft,, with a drunken captain, because the stewardess was possessed of a secret, of which even in his sea-siekness he obtained the key. Over and over again had he as- sumed modes of life he detested, dissipation, the most distasteful to him, to gain the confidence of men that were only assailable in these modes ; and now he bethought him, that if he only had a glimmering if his present suspicion, the precipice, and the narrow path, and the k u -ning sea below, had all been braved, and he would have followed her uiiJimjhingiy through every peril with this goal before him. "Was DAVENPOBT DTJNN. 4:99 it too late to attempt to reinstate himself in her esteem p He thought not ; indeed, she did not seem to retain any memory of his defection. At all events, there was little semblance of its having influenced her in her manner towards him. " "We shall meet at G-lengariff, Mr. Hankes," said Sybella, rising, and replacing the papers in the box. " I mean to return by the coast road, and will not ask you to accompany me." " It is precisely what I was about to beg as a favour. I was poorly yesterday — a nervous headache, an affection I am subject to — in short, I felt unequal to any exertion, or even excitement." " Pray let me counsel you to spare yourself a journey of much fatigue with little to reward it. Frequency and long habit have deprived the mountain tract of all terror for me, but I own that to a stranger it is not without peril. The spot where we parted yesterday is the least dangerous of the difficulties, and so I would say be ad- vised, and keep to the high road." Now there was not the slightest trace of sarcasm in what she said ; it was uttered in all sincerity and good faith, and yet Mr. Hankes could not help suspecting a covert mockery throughout. " I'm determined she shall see I am a man of courage," muttered he to himself; and then added, aloud, " Tou must permit me to dis- obey you, Miss Kellett. I am resolved to bear you company." There was a dash of decision in his tone that made Sybella turn to look at him, and, to her astonishment, she saw a degree of purpose and determination in his face very unlike its former expression. If she did not possess the craft and subtlety which long years had polished to a high perfection in him, she had that far finer and more delicate tact by which a woman's nature reads man's coarser tem- perament.. She watched his eye, too, and saw how it rested on the oaken box, and, even while awaiting her answer, never turned from that object. "Yes," said she to herself, "there is a game to be played out between us, and yonder is the stake." Did Mr. Hankes divine what was then passing in her mind ? I know not. All he said was, "May I order the horses, Miss Kellett ?" " Tes, I am ready." " And this box, what is to be done with it ? Best to leave it here in the' possession of the innkeeper. I suppose it will be safe ?" asked he, half timidly. " Perfectly safe ; it would be inconvenient to carry with us. Will you kindly tell the landlord to come here?" 2k2 500 DAYENPORT DUNN. No sooner had Mr. Hankes left the room on his errand, than' Sybella unlocked the box, and taking out the three papers in which the name of Conway appeared, relocked it. The papers she as quickly consigned to a small bag, which, as a sort of sabretasche, formed part of her riding costume. Mr. Hankes was somewhat longer on his mission than appeared necessary, and when he did return there was an air of some bustle'and confusion about him, while between him and the landlord an amount of intimacy had grown up — a sort of confidence was estabtished — that Bella's keen glance rapidly read. " An old-fashioned lock, and doubtless worth nothing, Miss Kel- lett," said Hankes, as with a contemptuous smile he regarded the curiously carved ornament of the keyhole. Tou have the key, I think ?" " Yes ; it required some ingenuity to withdraw it from where, I suppose, it has been rusting many a year." " It strikes me I might as well put a band over the lock and affix my seal. It will convey the notion of something very precious in- side," added he, laughing, " and our friend here, Mr. Eorke, will feel an increased importance in the guardianship of such a trea- sure." " I'll guard it like goold, Sir, that you may depend on," chimed in the landlord. "Why was it that, as Bella's quick glance was bent upon him, that he turned so hastily away, as if to avoid the scrutiny ? Do not imagine, valued reader, that while this young girl scanned the two faces before her, and tried to discover what secret under- standing subsisted between these two men — strangers but an hour ago — that she herself was calm and self-possessed. Par from it ; as little was she self-acquitted. It was under the influence of a sudden suspicion flashing across her mind — whence or how she knew not — that some treachery was being planned, that she withdrew these documents from the box. The expression of Hankes's look, as it rested on the casket, was full of significance. It meant much, but of what nature she could not read. The sudden way he had ques- tioned her about Driscoll imparted a link of connexion between that man and the contents of the box, or part of them ; and what part could that be except what concerned the name of Conway ? If these were her impulses, they were more easily carried out than forgiven, and in her secret heart she was ashamed of her own distrust, and of what it led her to do. " It would be a curious question at law," said Hankes, as he affixed DAVENPOET DUNN. 501 the third and last seal — " a very curious question, who owns that box. Not that its contents would pay for the litigation," added he, with a mocking laugh ; " but the property being sold this morning, with an unsettled claim of Driscoll's over it, and the purchaser being still undeclared — for I suppose you bought in for the Earl, or for Mr. Dunn, perhaps " " No, Sir, in my own name, and for myself, waiting Mr. Dunn's good pleasure to confirm the sale in the way I have told you." "Indeed!" exclaimed he, looking with an unfeigned admiration at a young girl capable of such rapid and decisive action — " so that you really may consider yourself its owner ?" " I do consider myself its owner," was her calm reply. " Then pray excuse my officiousness in this sealing up. I hope you will pardon my indiscreet zeal." She smiled without answering, and the blood mounted to Mr. Hankes's face and forehead till they were crimson. He, too, felt that there was a game between them, and was beginning to distrust his "hand." " Are we to be travelling companions, Mr. Hankes ?" asked she. And though nothing was said in actual words, there was that in the voice and manner of the speaker that made the question run thus : " Are we, after what we have just seen of each other, to journey together ?" " Well, if you really wish me to confess the truth, Miss Kellett, I must own I am rather afraid of my head along these mountain paths — a sort of faintness, a rushing of blood to the brain, and a confusion — in short, Nature never meant me for a chamois hunter, and I should bring no credit on your training of me." " Tour resolve is all the wiser, Sir, and so to our next meeting." She waved him a half familiar, half cold farewell, and left the room. Mr. Hankes saw her leave the town, and he loitered about the street till he could mark two mounted figures ascending the moun- tain. He then ordered a chaise to the door with all speed. " Will you take it now, Sir, or send for it, as you said at first ?" asked the innkeeper, as he stood with the oak box in his hands. " Keep it till I write — keep it till you hear from me ; or, no, put it in the chaise — that's better." 502 DAVEHTOKT DOTS'. CHAPTEE LX. THE DOUBLE BUJNDEE. Shoet as had been Sybella's absence from the Hermitage, a vast number of letters bad arrived for her in the mean while. The pro- spect of a peace, so confidently entertained at one moment, was now rudely destroyed by the abrupt termination of the Vienna confer- ences, and the result was a panic in the money-market. The panic of an army rushing madly on to victory ; the panic on shipboard when the great vessel has struck, and, after three or four convulsive throes, the mighty masts have snapped, and the blue water, surging and bounding, has riven the hatchways and flooded the deck ; the panic of a mob as the charge of cavalry is sounded, and the flash of a thousand sabres is seen through the long vista of a street ; the panic of a city stricken by plague or cholera,, are all dread- ful and appalling things, and have their scenes of horror full of the most picturesque terror, — still are there incidents of an almost equal power when that dread moment has arrived which is called a " Panic on 'Change." It was but yesterday, and the world went well and flourishingly, mills were at work, foundries thundered with their thousand hammers, vessels sailed forth from every port, and white-sailed argosies were freighted with wealth for distant colonies. None had to ask twice for means to carry out his speculations — for every enterprise there was capital — and now scarcely twenty-four hours have passed, and all is changed. A despatch has been received in the night ; a messenger has arrived at Downing-street ; the Minister has been aroused from his sleep to hear that we have met some great reverse ; a terrible dis- aster has befallen us ; two line-of-battle ships, whose draught of water was too great, have grounded under an enemy's fire ; in despite of the most heroic resistance, they have been captured; the union-jacks are on their way to Moscow. Mayhap the discomfiture, less afflicting to national pride, is the blunder of a cavalry officer, or the obstinacy of an envoy. Little matter for the cause, we have met a check. Down goes credit, and up go the discounts ; the mighty men of mil- DAVENPOET DOTS'. 503 lions have drawn their purse-strings, and not a guinea is to be had ; the City is full of sad-visaged men in black, presaging every manner of misfortune : More troops are wanted — more ships ; we are going to have an increase of the income-tax — a> loan — a renewal of war burdens in fifty shapes ! Each fancies some luxury of which he must deprive himself, some expense to be curtailed, and all are taking the dreariest view of a future whose chief feature is to be privation. So was it now. Amidst a mass of letters was one from Davenport Dunn, written with brevity and in haste. By a mistake, easily made in the hurry and confusion of such correspondence, it was, though intended for Mr. Hankes, addressed to Miss Kellett, the words " Strictly private and confidential" occupying a conspicuous place across the envelope, while lower down was written " Immediate." It was a very rare event latterly for Mr. Dunn to write to Miss Kellett, nor had she, in all their intercourse, once received from him a letter announced thus " confidential." It was, then, in some surprise, and not without a certain anxiety, that she broke the seal. It was dated " Wednesday, Irish Ofiice," and began thus : " Dear S." — She started — he had never called her Sybella in his life ; he had been most punctiliously careful ever to address her as Miss Kellett. She turned at once to the envelope, and read the address, " Miss Kellett, the Hermitage, Grlengariff." And yet there could be no mistake. It opened, " Dear S." " He has forgotten a word," thought she ; " he meant in his mood of confidence to call me Miss Sybella, and has omitted the title." The letter ran thus : " "We have failed at Vienna, as we do everywhere, and in everything. The war is to continue ; consequently we are in a terrible mess. Grlumthal telegraphs this morning that he will not go on ; the Frankfort people will, of course, follow his lead, so that Mount Cenis will be * nowhere' by the end of the week. I am, however, more anxious about Glengariff, which must be upheld, for the moment, at any cost. To-day I can manage to keep up the shares, perhaps also to-morrow. The old Earl is more in- fatuated about the scheme than ever, though the accounts he receives from that girl" — " That girl," muttered she, " who can he mean?" — " from that girl occasionally alarm him. She evidently has her own suspicions, though I don't clearly see by what they have been sug- gested. The sooner, therefore, you can possess yourself of the corre- spondence, the better. I have written to her by this post with a proposition she will most probably accept — advise it, by all means." — " This is scarcely intelligible," said she, once more reverting to the direction of the letter. — " Should the Ministry be beaten on Monday, 504 DAYENPOBT DTTNIT. they mean to dissolve Parliament. Now, they cannot go to the country, in Ireland, without ine, and my terms I have already fixed. They must give us aid — material, substantial aid ; I will not be put off with office or honours — it is no time for either. Meanwhile, I want all the dividend warrants, and a brief sketch of our next state- ment, for we meet on Saturday. Come what will, the Allotment must be sustained till the new election be announced. I hope Lack- ington's cheque was duly presented, for I find that his death was known here on the 4th. Where the new Viscount is no one seems even to guess. Get rid of the girl, and believe me, yours ever, — D. D." " Surely there is some strange mystification here," said she, as she sat pondering over this letter. " There are allusions which, had they not been addressed to me, I might have fancied were intended for myself. This girl, whose accounts have terrified Lord Glengariff, and who herself suspects that all is not right, may mean me ; but yet it is to me he writes, confidently and secretly. I cannot complain that the letter lacks candour — it is frank enough ; every word fore- bodes coming disaster, the great scheme is threatened with ruin, no- thing can save it but Government assistance — an infamous compact, if I read it aright. And if all this be so, in what a game have I played a part ! This great venture is a swindling enterprise ! All these poor people whose hard-earned gains have been invested in it will be ruined ; my'own small pittance, too, is gone. Good Heavens ! to what a terrible network of intrigue and deception have I lent my- self ! How have I come to betray those whose confidence I strove so hard to gain ! This girl — this girl — who is she ? and of whom does he speak ?" exclaimed she, as, in an outburst of emotion, she walked the room, her whole frame trembling, and her eyes glaring in all the wildness of high excitement. " May I come in ?" whispered a soft voice, as a low tap was heard at the door ; and without waiting for leave, Mr. Hankes entered. Nothing could be silkier nor softer than his courteous approach : his smile was the blandest, his step the smoothest, his bow the nicest blending of homage and regard ; and, as he took Miss Kellett's hand, it was with the air of a courtier, dashed with the devotion of an ad- mirer. Cruel is the confession that she noticed none — not one — of these traits. Her mind was so engrossed by the letter, that, had Mr. Hankes made his entry in a suit of chain armour, and with a mace in his hand, she would not have minded it. "I am come to entreat forgiveness — to sue your pardoD, Miss DAVENPOET DUNS. 505 Kellett, for a very great offence, of which, however, I am the guilt- less offender. The letter which I hold here, and which, as you see, is addressed ' S. Hankes, Esq.,' was certainly intended for you, and not me." " What — how — misdirected — a mistake in the address ?" cried she, eagerly. " Just so ; placed in a wrong enclosure," resumed he., in a tone of well graduated calm. " A blunder which occurs over and over in life, but I am fain to hope has never happened with less serious results." "In short," said she, hastily, "my letter, or the letter meant for me, came directed to you?" " Precisely. I have only to plead, as regards myself, that imme- diately on discovery — and I very soon discovered that it could not have been destined for my perusal — I refolded the epistle and has- tened to deliver it to your own hands." " More discreet and more fortunate than I !" said she, with a very peculiar smile, " since this letter which I hold here, and which bore my address, I now perceive was for you, and this I have not read merely once or twice, but fully a dozen times ; in truth, I believe I could repeat it, word for word, if the task were required of me." "What has become of Mr. Hankes's soft and gentle manner? Where are his bland looks, his air of courtesy and kindness, his voice so full of sweetness and deference ? Why, the man seems transfixed, his eyeballs are staring wildly, and he actually clutches, not takes, the letter from her hands. "Why, the first words might have undeceived you," cried he, rudely. " Your name is not Simpson Hankes." " No, Sir ; but it is Sybella, and the writer begins ' Dear S.' — a liberty, I own, I felt it, but one which I fancied my position was supposed to permit. Pray read on, Sir, and you will see that there was matter enough to puzzle finer faculties than mine." Perhaps the tone in which she spoke these words was intentionally triumphant — perhaps Mr. Hankes attributed this significance to them causelessly ; at all events, he started and stared at her for above a minute steadfastly. He then addressed himself suddenly to the letter. " Gracious Heavens ! what a terrible blunder !" exclaimed he, when he had finished the reading. " A great mistake, certainly, Sir," said she, calmly. " But still one of which you are incapable to take advantage, Miss Kellett," said he, with eagerness. 506 BAVENPOET DTTNN. " Is it to the girl who is to be got rid of, Sir, you address this speech ? Is it to her whose trustfulness has been made the instru- ment to deceive others and lure them to their ruin? Nay, Mr. Hankes, your estimate of my forbearance is indeed too high." " But what would you do, young lady ?" " Do, Sir ! I scarcely know what I would not do," burst she in, passionately. " This letter was addressed to me. I know nothing of the mistake of its direction ; here is the envelope with my name upon it. It is consequently mine — mine, therefore, to publish, to declare to the world, through its words, that the whole of this grand enter- prise is a cheat ; that its great designer is a man of nothing, living the precarious life of a gambling speculator, trading on the rich man's horde and the poor man's pittance, making market of all, even to his patriotism. I would print this worthy document with no other comment than the words, ' Eeceived by me, Sybella Kellett, this day of September, and sworn to as the handwriting of him whose initials it bears, Davenport Dunn.' I would publish it in such type that men might read it as they went — that all should take warning and put no faith in these unprincipled tricksters. Ay, Sir, and I would cling as my hope of safety from the world's scorn, to that insulting mention of myself, and claim as my vindication that I am the girl to be ' got rid of.' None shall dare to call me complice, since the little I once called my own is lost. But I would do more, Sir. The world I have unwittingly aided to deceive has a full right to an expiation at my hands. I would make public the entire correspondence I have for months back been engaged in. Tou seem to say ' No' to this. Is it my right you dispute, or my courage to assert the right ?" " Tou must be aware, Miss Kellett," said he, deprecatingly, " that you became possessed of this letter by a mistake — that you had no right to the intelligence it contains, and, consequently, have none to avail yourself of that knowledge. It may be perfectly true that you can employ it to our detriment. It would, I have little doubt, serve to shake our credit for a day or two ; but do you know what misery, what utter ruin your rashness will have caused meanwhile ? By the fall of our securities you will beggar hundreds. All whose necessities may require them to sell out on the day of your disclosure will be irretrievably ruined. Tou meditate a vengeance upon Mr. Dunn, and your blow falls on some poor struggling creatures that you never so much as heard of. I do not speak," continued he, more boldly, as he saw the deep effect his words produced — "I do not speak of the destitution and misery you will spread here — all works stopped—