/e^<U~Z. /U'X/^l^€^ -/<^rr^t^< 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 SANTA BARBARA 
 
 •^^LEs-nbQfcKfartifr?'^ 
 
 a 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 DUNCAN AND 
 
 FREDRIKA BRENT
 
 
 - .', rank and gaming:
 
 JL. M. GORDON 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 L 
 
 AND 
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 BV 
 
 MARIA EDGEWORTH 
 
 JL JE. GOKBON 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY CHRIS HAMMOND 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 ANNE THACKERAY RITCHIE 
 
 I* JR. GORDON 
 
 MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON 
 
 1910
 
 First printed in Macmillan's Illustrated Standard Novels 1895 
 Reprinted 1904, 1910
 
 L. M. GORDON 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The story of the Edgeworth Family, if it were properly 
 told, should be as long as the Arabian Nights themselves ; 
 the thousand and one cheerful intelligent members of the 
 circle, the amusing friends and relations, the charming 
 surroundings, the cheerful hospitable home, all go to make 
 up an almost unique history of a county family of great 
 parts and no little character. The Edgeworths were people 
 of good means and position, and their rental, we are told, 
 amounted to nearly ^3000 a year. At one time there was 
 some talk of a peerage for Mr. Edgeworth, but he was 
 considered too independent for a peerage. 
 
 The family tradition seems to have been unconventional 
 and spirited always. There are records still extant in 
 the present Mr. Edgeworth's possession, — papers of most 
 wonderful vitality for parchment, — where you may read 
 passionate remonstrances and adjurations from great- 
 grandfathers to great-great-grandfathers, and where great- 
 great-grandmothers rush into the discussion with vehement 
 spelling and remonstrance, and make matters no better 
 by their interference. I never read more passionately 
 eloquent letters and appeals. There are also records of a 
 pleasanter nature ; merrymakings, and festive preparations, 
 
 v
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 and 1 2S. 6d. for a pair of silk stockings for Miss Margaret 
 Edgeworth to dance in, carefully entered into the family 
 budget. All the people whose portraits are hanging up, 
 beruffled, dignified, calm, and periwigged, on the old walls 
 of Edgeworthstown certainly had extraordinarily strong im- 
 pressions, and gave eloquent expression to them. I don't 
 think people could feel quite so strongly now about their 
 own affairs as they did then ; there are so many printed 
 emotions, so many public events, that private details can- 
 not seem quite as important. Edgeworths of those days 
 were farther away from the world than they are now, 
 dwelling in the plains of Longford, which as yet were not 
 crossed by iron rails. The family seems to have made 
 little of distances, and to have ridden and posted to and 
 fro from Dublin to Edgeworthstown in storm and sunshine. 
 
 II 
 
 When Messrs. Macmillan asked me to write a preface 
 to this new edition of Miss Edgeworth's stories I thought 
 I should like to see the place where she had lived so long 
 and where she had written so much, and so it happened 
 that being in Ireland early this year, my daughter and I 
 found ourselves driving up to Broadstone Station one 
 morning in time for the early train to Edgeworthstown. As 
 we got out of our cab we asked the driver what the fare 
 should be. ' Sure the fare is half a crown,' said he, 'and if 
 you wish to give me more, I could keep it for myself! ' 
 The train was starling and we bought our papers to 
 uile the road. 'Will you have a Home Rule paper or 
 one of them others?' said the newsboy, with such a droll 
 emphasis that we couldn't help laughing. 'Give me one 
 u( each,' said I ; then he laughed, as no English newsboy 
 
 vi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 would have done. . . . We went along in the car with 
 a sad couple of people out of a hospital, compatriots of our 
 own, who had been settled ten years in Ireland, and were 
 longing to be away. The poor things were past consola- 
 tion, dull, despairing, ingrained English, sick and suffering 
 and yearning for Brixton, just as other aliens long for their 
 native hills and moors. We travelled along together all 
 that spring morning by the blossoming hedges, and tri- 
 umphal arches of flowering May ; the hills were very far 
 away, but the lovely lights and scents were all about and 
 made our journey charming. Maynooth was a fragrant 
 vision as we flew past, of vast gardens wall-enclosed, of 
 stately buildings. The whole line of railway was sweet 
 with the May flowers, and with the pungent and refreshing 
 scent of the turf-bogs. The air was so clear and so limpid 
 that we could see for miles, and short-sighted eyes needed 
 no glasses to admire with. Here and there a turf cabin, 
 now and then a lake placidly reflecting the sky. The 
 country seemed given over to silence, the light sped 
 unheeded across the delicate browns and greens of the 
 bog-fields ; or lay on the sweet wonderful green of the 
 meadows. One dazzling field we saw full of dancing 
 circles of little fairy pigs with curly tails. Everything was 
 homelike but not England, there was something of France, 
 something of Italy in the sky ; in the fanciful tints upon 
 the land and sea, in the vastness of the picture, in the 
 happy sadness and calm content which is so difficult to 
 describe or to account for. Finally we reached our 
 journey's end. It gave one a real emotion to see Edge- 
 worthstmvn written up on the board before us, and to realise 
 that we were following in the steps of those giants who 
 had passed before us. The master of Edgeworthstown 
 kindly met us and drove us to his home through the 
 
 vii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 outlying village, shaded with its sycamores, underneath 
 which pretty cows were browsing the grass. We passed 
 the Roman Catholic Church, the great iron crucifix 
 standing in the churchyard. Then the horses turned in 
 at the gate of the park, and there rose the old home, 
 so exactly like what one expected it, that I felt as if I 
 had been there before in some other phase of existence. 
 
 It is certainly a tradition in the family to welcome 
 travellers ! I thought of the various memoirs I had read, 
 of the travellers arriving from the North and the South 
 and the West ; of Scott and Lockhart, of Pictet, of the 
 Ticknors, of the many visitants who had come up in turn ; 
 whether it is the year 14, or the year 94, the hospitable 
 doors open kindly to admit them. There were the French 
 windows reaching to the ground, through which Maria used 
 to pass on her way to gather her roses ; there was the porch 
 where Walter Scott had stood ; there grew the quaint old- 
 fashioned bushes with the great pink peonies in flower, by 
 those railings which still divide the park from the meadows 
 beyond ; there spread the branches of the century-old trees. 
 Only last winter they told us the storms came and swept 
 away a grove of Beeches that were known in all the 
 country round, but how much of shade, of flower, still 
 remain ! The noble Hawthorn of stately growth, the pine- 
 trees (there should be ?iames for trees, as there are for rocks 
 or ancient strongholds). Mr. Edgeworth showed us the 
 oak from Jerusalem, the grove of cypress and sycamore 
 where the beautiful depths of ground ivy are floating upon 
 the debris, and soften the gnarled roots, while they flood 
 the rising hanks with green. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Edg( worth brought us into the house. 
 The ways go upstairs and downstairs, by winding passages 
 and side gates ; a pretty domed staircase starts from the 
 
 viii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 central hall, where stands that old clock-case which Maria 
 wound up when she was over eighty years old. To the 
 right and to the left along the passages were rooms open- 
 ing from one into another. I could imagine Sir Walter's 
 kind eyes looking upon the scene, and Wordsworth coming 
 down the stairs, and their friendly entertainer making all 
 happy, and all welcome in turn ; and their hostess, the 
 widowed Mrs. Edgeworth, responding and sympathising 
 with each. We saw the corner by the fire where Maria 
 wrote ; we saw her table with its pretty curves standing 
 in its place in the deep casements. Miss Edgeworth's own 
 room is a tiny little room above looking out on the back 
 garden. This little closet opens from a larger one, and 
 then by a narrow flight of stairs leads to a suite of ground- 
 floor chambers, following one from another, lined with 
 bookcases and looking on the gardens. What a strange 
 fellow-feeling with the past it gave one to stand staring at 
 the old books, with their paper backs and old-fashioned 
 covers, at the gray boards, which were the liveries of 
 literature in those early days ; at the first editions, with 
 their inscriptions in the author's handwriting, or in Maria's 
 pretty caligraphy. There was the Pirate in its original 
 volumes, and Mackintosh's Memoirs, and Mrs. Barbauld's 
 Essays, and Descartes's Essays, that Arthur Hallam liked 
 to read ; Hallam's Constitutional History, and Rogers's 
 Poems, were there all inscribed and dedicated. Not less 
 interesting were the piles of Magazines that had been sent 
 from America. I never knew before how many Magazines 
 existed even those early days ; we took some down at 
 hazard and read names, dates, and initials. . . . Storied 
 urn and monumental bust do not bring back the past as 
 do the books which belong to it. Storied urns are in 
 churches and stone niches, far removed from the lives of 
 
 ix
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 which they speak ; books seem a part of our daily life, and 
 are like the sound of a voice just outside the door. Here 
 they were, as they had been read by her, stored away by 
 her hands, and still safely preserved, bringing back the 
 past with, as it were, a cheerful encouraging greeting to the 
 present. Other relics there are of course, but, as I say, 
 none which touch one so vividly. There is her silver ink- 
 stand, the little table her father left her on which she wrote 
 (it had belonged to his mother before him). There is also 
 a curious trophy — a table which was sent to her from Edin- 
 burgh, ornamented by promiscuous views of Italy, curiously 
 inappropriate to her genius ; but not so the inscription, 
 which is quoted from Sir Walter Scott's Preface to his 
 Collected Edition, and which may as well be quoted here : 
 ' Without being so presumptuous as to hope to emulate the rich 
 humour, the pathetic tenderness, and admirable truth which per- 
 vade the works of my accomplished friend,' Sir Walter wrote, 
 ' I felt that something might be attempted for my own country 
 of the same kind as that which Miss Edgeworth so fortunately 
 achieved for Ireland.' 
 
 In the Jlfemoirs of Miss Edgeworth there is a pretty 
 account of her sudden burst of feeling when this passage 
 so unexpected, and so deeply felt by her, was read out by 
 one of her sisters, at a time when Maria lay weak and 
 recovering from illness in Edgeworthstown. 
 
 Our host took us that day, among other pleasant things, 
 for a marvellous and delightful flight on a jaunting car, to 
 see something of the country. We sped through storms 
 and sunshine, by open moors and fields, and then by 
 villages and little churches, by farms where the pigs were 
 standing at the doors to be fed, by pretty trim cottages. 
 The lights came and went ; as the mist lifted we could see 
 
 x
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the exquisite colours, the green, the dazzling sweet lights 
 on the meadows, playing upon the meadow-sweet and elder 
 bushes ; at last we came to the lovely glades of Carriglass. 
 It seemed to me that we had reached an enchanted forest 
 amid this green sweet tangle of ivy, of flowering summer 
 trees, of immemorial oaks and sycamores. 
 
 A squirrel was darting up the branches of a beauti- 
 ful spreading beech- tree, a whole army of rabbits were 
 flashing with silver tails into the brushwood ; swallows, 
 blackbirds, peacock-butterflies, dragonflies on the wing, a 
 mighty sylvan life was roaming in this lovely orderly 
 wilderness. 
 
 The great Irish kitchen garden, belonging to the house, 
 with its seven miles of wall, was also not unlike a part of 
 a fairy tale. Its owner, Mr. Lefroy, told me that Miss Edge- 
 worth had been constantly there. She was a great friend 
 of Judge Lefroy. As a boy he remembered her driving 
 up to the house and running up through the great drawing- 
 room doors to greet the Judge. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth certainly lived in a fair surrounding, 
 and, with Sophia Western, must have gone along the way 
 of life heralded by sweetest things, by the song of birds, by 
 the gold radiance of the buttercups, by the varied shadows 
 of those beautiful trees under which the cows gently tread 
 the grass. English does not seem exactly the language in 
 which to write of Ireland, with its sylvan wonders of natural 
 beauty. Madame de Sevigne's descriptions of her woods 
 came to my mind. It is not a place which delights one 
 by its actual sensual beauty, as Italy does ; it is not 
 as in England, where a thousand associations link one 
 to every scene and aspect — Ireland seems to me to 
 contain some unique and most impersonal charm, which 
 is quite unwritable. 
 
 xi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 All that evening we sat talking with our hosts round 
 the fire (for it was cold enough for a fire), and I remem- 
 bered that in Miss Edgeworth's Memoirs it was described 
 how the snow lay upon the ground and upon the land, 
 when the family came home in June to take possession of 
 Edgeworthstown. 
 
 As I put out my candle in the spacious guest-chamber I 
 wondered which of its past inhabitants I should wish to 
 see standing in the middle of the room. I must con- 
 fess that the thought of the beautiful Honora filled me 
 with alarm, and if Miss Seward had walked in in her pearls 
 and satin robe I should have fled for my life. As I lay 
 there experimentalising upon my own emotions I found 
 that after all, natural simple people do not frighten one 
 whether dead or alive. The thought of them is ever wel- 
 come ; it is the artificial people who are sometimes one 
 thing, sometimes another, and who form themselves on the 
 weaknesses and fancies of those among whom they live, 
 who are really terrifying. 
 
 The shadow of the bird's wing flitted across the window 
 of my bedroom, and the sun was shining next morning 
 when I awoke. I could see the cows, foot deep in the 
 grass under the hawthorns. After breakfast we went out 
 into the grounds and through an arched doorway into the 
 kitchen garden. It might have been some corner of Italy 
 or the South of France ; the square tower of the granary 
 rose high against the blue, the gray walls were hung with 
 mossy fruit trees, pigeons were darting and flapping their 
 wings, gardeners were at work, the very vegetables were 
 growing luxuriant and romantic and edged by thick borders 
 of violet pansy ; crossing the courtyard, we came into the 
 village street, also orderly and white -washed. The soft 
 
 xii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 limpid air made all things into pictures, into Turners, into 
 Titians. A Murillo-like boy, with dark eyes, was leaning 
 against a wall, with his shadow, watching us go by ; strange 
 old women, with draperies round their heads, were coming 
 out of their houses. We passed the Post-Office, the village 
 shops, with their names, the Monaghans and Gerahtys, such 
 as we find again in Miss Edgeworth's novels. We heard 
 the local politics discussed over the counter with a certain 
 aptness and directness which struck me very much. We 
 passed the boarding-house, which was not without its his- 
 tory — a long low building erected by Mr. and Miss Edge- 
 worth for a school, where the Sandfords and Mertons of 
 those days were to be brought up together : a sort of fore- 
 shadowing of the High Schools of the present. Mr. Edge- 
 worth was, as we know, the very spirit of progress, though 
 his experiment did not answer at the time. At the end 
 of the village street, where two roads divide, we noticed a 
 gap in the decent roadway — a pile of ruins in a garden. A 
 tumble-down cottage, and beyond the cottage, a falling 
 shed, on the thatched roof of which a hen was clucking 
 and scraping. These cottages Mr. Edgeworth had, after 
 long difficulty, bought up and condemned as unfit for 
 human habitation. The plans had been considered, the 
 orders given to build new cottages in their place, which 
 were to be let to the old tenants at the old rent, but the 
 last remaining inhabitant absolutely refused to leave ; we 
 saw an old woman in a hood slowly crossing the road, and 
 carrying a pail for water ; no threats or inducements would 
 move her, not even the sight of a neat little house, white- 
 washed and painted, and all ready for her to step into. Her 
 present rent was iod. a week, Mr. Edgeworth told me, and 
 she had been letting the tumble-down shed to a large family 
 for is. 4d. This sub-let was forcibly put an end to, but 
 
 xiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 the landlady still stops there, and there she will stay until 
 the roof tumbles down upon her head. The old creature 
 passed on through the sunshine, a decrepit, picturesque 
 figure carrying her pail to the stream, defying all the laws 
 of progress and political economy and civilisation in her 
 feebleness and determination. 
 
 Most of the women came to their doors to see us go 
 by. They all looked as old as the hills — some dropt 
 curtseys, others threw up their arms in benediction. From 
 a cottage farther up the road issued a strange, shy old 
 creature, looking like a bundle of hay, walking on bare legs. 
 She came up with a pinch of snuff, and a shake of the 
 hand ; she was of the family of the man who had once 
 saved Edgeworthstown from being destroyed by the rebels. 
 'Sure it was not her father,' said old Peggy, 'it was her 
 grandfather did it ! ' So she explained, but it was hard to 
 believe that such an old, old creature had ever had a 
 grandfather in the memory of man. 
 
 The glebe lands lie beyond the village. They reach as 
 far as the church on its high plateau, from which you can 
 see the Wicklow Hills on a fine day, and the lovely shifting 
 of the lights of the landscape. The remains of the great 
 pew of the Edgeworth family, with its carved canopy of 
 wood, is still a feature in the bare church from which so 
 much has been swept away. The names of the fathers are 
 written on the chancel walls, and a few medallions of 
 daughters and sisters also. In the churchyard, among 
 green elder bushes and tall upspringing grasses, is the 
 square monument erected to Mr. Edgeworth and his 
 family ; and as we stood there the quiet place was crossed 
 and recrossed by swallows with their beating crescent 
 wings. 
 
 xiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 III 
 
 Whatever one may think of Mr. Edgeworth's literary 
 manipulations and of his influence upon his daughter's 
 writings, one cannot but respect the sincere and cordial 
 understanding which bound these two people together, and 
 realise the added interest in life, in its machinery and 
 evolutions, which Maria owed to her father's active intelli- 
 gence. Her own gift, I think, must have been one for 
 perceiving through the minds of others, and for realising 
 the value of what they in turn reflected ; one is struck 
 again and again by the odd mixture of intuition, and of 
 absolute matter of fact which one finds in her writings. 
 
 It is difficult to realise, when one reads the memoirs of 
 human beings who loved and hated, and laughed and 
 scolded, and wanted things and did without them, very 
 much as we do ourselves, that though they thought as we 
 do and felt as we do (only, as I have said, with greater 
 vehemence), they didn't look like us at all ; and Mr. 
 Edgeworth, the father of Maria Edgeworth, the 'gay 
 gallant,' the impetuous, ingenious, energetic gentleman, sat 
 writing with powdered hair and a queue, with tights and 
 buckles, bolt upright in a stiff chair, while his family, also 
 bequeued and becurled and bekerchiefed, were gathered 
 round him in a group, composedly attentive to his ex- 
 planations, as he points to the roll upon the table, or reads 
 from his many MSS. and note-books, for their edification. 
 
 To have four wives and twenty-two children, to have 
 invented so many machines, engines, and curricles, steeples 
 and telegraph posts, is more than commonly falls to the lot 
 of one ordinary man, but such we know was Mr. Edge- 
 worth's history told by his own lips. 
 
 I received by chance an old newspaper the other day, 
 xv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 dated the 23rd July 1779. It is called the London Packet, 
 and its news, told with long ^'s and pretty curly italics, 
 thrills one even now as one looks over the four short pages. 
 The leading article is entitled 'Striking Instance of the 
 Perfidy of France.' It is true the grievance goes back to 
 Louis XIV., but the leader is written with plenty of spirit 
 and present indignation. Then comes news from America 
 and the lists of New Councillors elected : ' Artemus Ward, 
 Francis Dana, Oliver Prescott, Samuel Baker, while a very 
 suitable sermon on the occasion is preached by the Rev. 
 Mr. Stillman of Boston.' How familiar the names all 
 sound ! Then the thanks of the Members of Congress are 
 given to ' General Lee, Colonel Moultrie, and the officers 
 and soldiers under their command who on the 28th of June 
 last Repulsed with so much Valour the attack that was made 
 that day on the State of South Carolina by the fleet and 
 army of his Britannic Majesty.' 
 
 There is an irresistible spirit of old-world pigtail decorum 
 and dash about it all. We read of our ' grand fleet ' 
 waiting at Corunna for the Spanish ; of 80,000 men on the 
 coast of Brittany supposed to be ready for an invasion of 
 England ; of the Prince of Conde playing at cards, with 
 Northumberland House itself for stakes (Northumberland 
 House which he is intending to take). We read the list of 
 Lottery Prizes, of the ^1000 and ^500 tickets; of the 
 pressing want of seamen for His Majesty's Navy, and how 
 the gentlemen of Ireland are subscribers to a bounty 
 fund. Then comes the narrative of James Caton of 
 Bristol, who writes to complain that while transacting his 
 business on the Bristol Exchange he is violently seized 
 by a pressgang, with oaths and imprecations. Mr. Farr, 
 attempting to speak to him, is told by the Lieutenant that 
 if he does not keep off he will be shot with a pistol. Mr. 
 
 xvi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Caton is violently carried off, locked up in a horrible 
 stinking room, prevented from seeing his friends ; after a 
 day or two he is forced on board a tender, where Mr. Tripp, 
 a midshipman, behaves with humanity, but the Captain 
 and Lieutenant outvie each other in brutality; Captain 
 Hamilton behaving as an 'enraged partisan.' Poor Mr. 
 Caton is released at last by the exertions of Mr. Edmund 
 Burke, of Mr. Farr, and another devoted friend, who travel 
 post-haste to London to obtain a Habeas Corpus, so that 
 he is able to write indignantly and safe from his own home 
 to the London Packet to describe his providential escape. 
 The little sheet gives one a vivid impression of that daily 
 life in 1779, when Miss Edge worth must have been a 
 little girl of twelve years old, at school at Mrs. Lataffiere's, 
 and learning to write in her beautiful handwriting. It was 
 a time of great events. The world is fighting, armies 
 marching and counter-marching, and countries rapidly 
 changing hands. Miss Seward is inditing her elegant 
 descriptions for the use of her admiring circle. But already 
 the circle is dwindling ! Mr. Day has parted from Sabrina. 
 The well-known episodes of Lichfield gaieties and love- 
 makings are over. Poor Major Andre has been exiled 
 from England and rejected by Honora. The beautiful 
 Honora, whose " blending charms of mind and person " 
 are celebrated by one adoring lover after another, has 
 married Mr. Edgeworth. She has known happiness, and 
 the devoted affection of an adoring husband, and the 
 admiring love of her little step-daughter, all this had been 
 hers ; and now all this is coming to an end, and the 
 poor lady lying on her death-bed imploring her husband 
 to marry her sister Elizabeth. Accordingly Mr. Edgeworth 
 married Elizabeth Sneyd in 1780, which was also the year 
 of poor Andre's death. 
 
 xvii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 There is a little oval picture at the National Gallery in 
 Dublin, the photograph of a sketch at Edgeworthstown 
 House, which gives one a very good impression of the 
 family as it must have appeared in the reigns of King George 
 and the third Mrs. Edgeworth. The father in his powder 
 and frills sits at the table with intelligent, well-informed finger 
 showing some place upon a map. He is an agreeable- 
 looking youngish man ; Mrs. Edgeworth, his third wife, 
 is looking over his shoulder ; she has marked features, 
 beautiful eyes, she holds a child upon her knee, and one 
 can see the likeness in her to her step-daughter Honora, 
 who stands just behind her and leans against the chair. 
 A large globe appropriately stands in the background. 
 The grown-up ladies alternate with small children. Miss 
 Edgeworth herself, sitting opposite to her father, is the 
 most prominent figure in the group. She wears a broad 
 leghorn hat, a frizzed coiffure, and folded kerchief; she has 
 a sprightly, somewhat French appearance, with a marked 
 nose of the retrousse order. I had so often heard that she 
 was plain that to see this fashionable and agreeable figure 
 was a pleasant surprise. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth seems to be about four-and-twenty in 
 the sketch; she was born in 1767; she must have been 
 eleven in 1778, when Mr. Edgeworth finally came over to 
 Ireland to settle on his own estate, and among his own 
 people. He had been obliged some years before to leave 
 Edgeworthstown on account of Mrs. Honora Edgeworth 's 
 health ; he now returned in patriarchal fashion with Mrs. 
 Elizabeth Edgeworth, his third wife, with his children by 
 his first, second, and third marriages, and with two sisters- 
 in-law who had made their home in his family. For 
 thirty-five years he continued to live on in the pretty old 
 home which he now adapted to his large family, and 
 
 xviii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 which, notwithstanding Miss Edgeworth's objections, would 
 have seemed so well fitted for its various requirements. 
 The daughter's description of his life there, of his work 
 among his tenants, of his paternal and spirited rule, is vivid 
 and interesting. When the present owner of Edgeworths- 
 town talked to us of his grandfather, one felt that, with all 
 his eccentricities, he must have been a man of a far-seeing 
 mind and observation. Mr. Erroles Edgeworth said that 
 he was himself still reaping the benefit of his grandfather's 
 admirable organisation and arrangements on the estate, and 
 that when people all around met with endless difficulties 
 and complications, he had scarcely known any. Would 
 that there had been more Mr. Edgeworths in Ireland ! 
 
 Whatever business he had to do, his daughter tells us, 
 was done in the midst of his family. Maria copied his 
 letters of business and helped him to receive his rents. ' On 
 most Irish estates,' says Miss Edgeworth, 'there is, or there 
 was, a personage commonly called a driver, — a person who 
 drives and impounds cattle for rent and arrears.' The drivers 
 are, alas ! from time to time too necessary in collecting Irish 
 rents. Mr. Edgeworth desired that none of his tenants 
 should pay rent to any one but himself; thus taking away 
 subordinate interference, he became individually acquainted 
 with his tenantry. He also made himself acquainted with 
 the different value of land on his estate. In every case 
 where the tenant had improved the land his claim to 
 preference over every new proposer was admitted. The 
 mere plea, ' I have been on your Honour's estate so many 
 years,' was disregarded. 'Nor was it advantageous that each 
 son,' says Miss Edgeworth, 'of the original tenant should 
 live on his subdivided little potato garden without further 
 exertion of mind or body.' Further on she continues : 
 ' Not being in want of ready money, my father was not 
 
 xix b
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 obliged to let his land to the highest bidder. He could 
 afford to have good tenants.' In the old leases claims of 
 duty-fowl, of duty-work, of man or beast had been inserted. 
 Mr. Edgeworth was one of the first to abolish them. The 
 only clause he continued in every lease was the alienation 
 fine, which was to protect the landlord and to prevent a 
 set of middlemen from taking land at a reasonable rent, 
 and letting it immediately at the highest possible price. 
 His indulgence as to the time he allowed for the payment 
 of rent was unusually great, but beyond the half year the 
 tenants knew his strictness so well, that they rarely ventured 
 to go into arrears, and never did so with impunity., 'To 
 his character as a good landlord,' she continues, 'was 
 added that he was a real gentleman ; this phrase comprises 
 a good deal in the opinion of the lower Irish.' There is 
 one very curious paragraph in which Miss Edgeworth 
 describes how her father knew how to make use of the 
 tenants' prejudices, putting forward his wishes rather than 
 his convictions. 'It would be impossible for me,' says his 
 daughter, ' without ostentation to give any of the proofs I 
 might record of my father's liberality. Long after they 
 were forgotten by himself, they were remembered by the 
 warm-hearted people among whom he lived.' 
 
 Mr. Edgeworth was one of those people born to get 
 their own way. Every one seems to have felt the influence 
 of his strong character. It was not only with his family 
 and his friends that he held his own — the tenants and 
 the poor people rallied to his command. To be sure, it 
 sounds like some old Irish legend to be told that Mr. 
 Edgeworth had so loud a voice that it could be heard a 
 mile off, and that his steward, who lived in a lodge at that 
 distance from the house, could hear him calling from the 
 drawing-room window, and would come up for orders. 
 
 xx
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 In 1778, says Miss Edgeworth retrospectively, when 
 England was despatching her armies all over the world, 
 she had no troops to spare for the defence of Ireland then 
 threatened with a French invasion ; and the principal 
 nobility and gentry embodied themselves volunteers for 
 the defence of the country. The Duke of Leinster and 
 Lord Charlemont were at the head of the ' corps which in 
 perfect order and good discipline rendered their country 
 respectable.' The friends of Ireland, profiting by England's 
 growing consideration for the sister country, now obtained 
 for her great benefits for which they had long been 
 striving, and Mr. Grattan moved an address to the throne 
 asserting the legislative independence of Ireland. The 
 address passed the House, and, as his daughter tells us, 
 Mr. Edgeworth immediately published a pamphlet. Miss 
 Edgeworth continues as follows, describing his excellent 
 course of action : ' My father honestly and unostenta- 
 tiously used his utmost endeavours to obliterate all that 
 could tend to perpetuate ill-will in the country. Among 
 the lower classes in his neighbourhood he endeavoured to 
 discourage that spirit of recrimination and retaliation 
 which the lower Irish are too prone to cherish. They are 
 such acute observers that there is no deceiving them as to 
 the state of the real feeling of their superiors. They know 
 the signs of what passes within with more certainty than 
 any physiognomist, and it was soon seen by all those who 
 had any connection with him that my father was sincere 
 in his disdain of vengeance.' Further on, describing his 
 political feelings, she says that on the subject of the Union 
 in parliamentary phrase he had not then been able to make 
 up his mind. She describes with some pride his first speech 
 in the Irish House at two o'clock in the morning, when 
 the wearied members were scarcely awake to hear it, and 
 
 xxi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 when some of the outstretched members were aroused by 
 their neighbours to listen to him ! ' When people per- 
 ceived that it was not a set speech,' says Miss Edgeworth, 
 'they became interested.' He stated his doubts just as 
 they had occurred as he threw them by turn into each 
 scale. After giving many reasons in favour of what 
 appeared to be the advantages of the Union, he unex- 
 pectedly gave his vote against it, because he said he had 
 been convinced by what he had heard that night, that the 
 Union was decidedly against the wishes of the majority of 
 men of sense and property in the nation. He added (and 
 surely Mr. Edgeworth's opinion should go for something 
 still) that if he should be convinced that the opinions of 
 the country changed, his vote would be in its favour. 
 
 His biographer tells us that Mr. Edgeworth was much 
 complimented on his speech by both sides, by those for 
 whom he voted, and also by those who found that the 
 best arguments on the other side of the question had 
 been undoubtedly made by him. It is a somewhat 
 complicated statement and state of feeling to follow ; to 
 the faithful daughter nothing is impossible where her 
 father is concerned. This vote, I believe, cost Mr. 
 Edgeworth his peerage. ' When it was known that he had 
 voted against the Union he became suddenly the idol of 
 those who would previously have stoned him,' says his 
 devoted biographer. It must not, however, be forgotten 
 that Mr. Edgeworth had refused an offer of ,£3000 for his 
 seat for two or three weeks, during that momentous period 
 when every vote was of importance. Mr. Pitt, they say, 
 spent over ^2,000,000 in carrying the measure which he 
 deemed so necessary.
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 IV 
 
 As a rule people's books appeal first to one's imagina- 
 tion, and then after a time, if the books are good books and 
 alive, not stuffed dummies and reproductions, one begins 
 to divine the writers themselves, hidden away in their pages, 
 and wrapped up in their hot-press sheets of paper ; and so 
 it happened by chance that a printed letter once written 
 by Maria Edgeworth to Mrs. Barbauld set the present 
 reader wondering about these two familiar names, and 
 trying to realise the human beings which they each repre- 
 sented. Since those days Miss Edgeworth has become a 
 personage more vivid and interesting than any of her 
 characters, more familiar even than ' Simple Susan ' or 
 'Rosamond of the Purple Jar.' She has seemed little by 
 little to grow into a friend, as the writer has learnt to know 
 her more and more intimately, has visited the home of that 
 home-loving woman, has held in her hands the delightful 
 Family Memoirs, 1 has seen the horizons, so to speak, of 
 Maria Edgeworth's long life. Several histories of Miss 
 Edgeworth have been lately published in England. Miss 
 Zimmern and Miss Oliver in America have each written, 
 and the present writer has written, and various memoirs 
 and letters have appeared in different magazines and 
 papers with allusions and descriptions all more or less 
 interesting. One can but admire the spirit which animated 
 that whole existence; the cheerful, kindly, multiplied interest 
 Maria Edgeworth took in the world outside, as well as in 
 the wellbeing of all those around her. Generations, changes, 
 new families, new experiences, none of these overwhelmed 
 her. She seemed to move in a crowd, a cheerful, orderly 
 crowd, keeping in tune and heart with its thousand claims ; 
 
 1 Now published and edited by Mr. Hare (Nov. 1894). 
 xxiii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 with strength and calmness of mind to bear multiplied 
 sorrows and a variety of care with courage, and an ever- 
 reviving gift of spirited interest. Her history is almost 
 unique in its curious relationships ; its changes of step- 
 mothers, its warm family ties, its grasp of certain facts 
 which belong to all time rather than to the hour itself. 
 Miss Edgeworth lived for over eighty years, busy, beneficent, 
 modest, and intelligent to the last. When she died she 
 was mourned as unmarried women of eighty are not often 
 mourned. 
 
 The present owner of Edgeworthstown told us that he 
 could just remember her, lying dead upon her bed, and 
 her face upon the pillow, and the sorrowful tears of the 
 household ; and how he and the other little children were 
 carried off by a weeping aunt into the woods, to comfort 
 and distract them on the funeral day. He also told us of 
 an incident prior to this event which should not be over- 
 looked. How he himself, being caught red-handed, at the 
 age of four or thereabouts, with his hands in a box of 
 sugar-plums, had immediately confessed the awful fact that 
 he had been about to eat them, and he was brought then 
 and there before his Aunt Maria for sentence. She at 
 once decided that he had behaved Nobly in speaking the 
 truth, and that he must be rewarded in kind for his praise- 
 worthy conduct, and be allowed to keep the sugar-plums ! 
 
 This little story after half a century certainly gives one 
 pleasure still to recall, and proves, I think, that cakes may 
 be enjoyed long after they have been eaten, and also that 
 there is a great deal to be said for justice with lollipops 
 in the scale. But what would Rosamond's parents have 
 thought of such a decision ? One shudders to think of 
 their disapproval, or of that of dear impossible Mr. Thomas 
 Day, with his trials and experiments of melted sealing-wax 
 
 xxiv
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 upon little girls' bare arms, and his glasses of tar-water 
 so inflexibly administered. Miss Edgeworth, who suffered 
 from her eyes, recalls how Mr. Day used to bring the dose, 
 the horrible tar-water, every morning with a ' Drink this, 
 Miss Maria ! ' and how she dared not resist, though she 
 thought she saw something of kindness and pity beneath 
 all his apparent severity. 
 
 Severity was the order of those times. The reign of 
 sugar-plums had scarcely begun. It was not, as now, only 
 ignorance and fanaticism that encouraged the giving of 
 pain, it was the universal custom. People were still hanged 
 for stealing, women were still burnt — so we have been 
 assured — in St. Stephen's Green ; though, it is true, they 
 were considerately strangled first. Children were bullied 
 and tortured with the kindest intentions ; even Maria 
 Edgeworth at her fashionable school was stretched in a 
 sort of machine to make her grow ; Mr. Day, as we know, 
 to please the lady of his affections, passed eight hours a 
 day in the stocks in order to turn out his knock-knees. 
 One feels that a generation of ladies and gentlemen who 
 submitted to such inflictions surely belonged to a race of 
 heroes and heroines, and that, if the times were difficult 
 and trying, the people also were stronger to endure them, 
 and must have been much better fitted with nerves than 
 we are. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth's life has been so often told that I will 
 not attempt to recapitulate the story at any length. She 
 well deserved her reputation. Her thoughts were good, 
 her English was good, her stories had the charm of 
 sincerity, and her audience of children was a genuine 
 audience, less likely to be carried away by fashion than 
 more advanced critics might be. There is a curious 
 matter-of-fact element in all she wrote, combined with 
 
 XXV
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 extraordinary quickness and cleverness ; and it must be 
 remembered, in trying to measure her place in literature, 
 that in her day the whole great school of English philo- 
 sophical romance was in its cradle ; George Eliot was 
 not in existence ; my father was born in the year in which 
 The Absentee was published. Sir Walter Scott has told us 
 that it was Miss Edgeworth's writing which first suggested 
 to him the idea of writing about Scotland and its national 
 life. Tourgenieff in the same way says that it was after 
 reading her books on Ireland that he began to write of 
 his own country and of Russian peasants as he did. Miss 
 Edgeworth was the creator of her own special world of 
 fiction, though the active Mr. Edgeworth crossed the fs 
 and dotted the *'s, interpolated, expurgated, to his own 
 and Maria's satisfaction. She was essentially a modest 
 woman ; she gratefully accepted his criticism and emenda- 
 tions. Mr. Clark Russell quotes Sydney Smith, who 
 declared that Mr. Edgeworth must have written or burst. 
 'A discharge of ink was an evacuation absolutely neces- 
 sary to avoid fatal and plethoric congestion.' The only 
 wonder is that, considering all they went through, his 
 daughter's stories survived to tell their tale, and to tell it 
 so well, with directness and conviction, that best of salt 
 in any literary work. A letter Maria wrote to her cousin 
 will be remembered. ' I beg, dear Sophy,' she says, 
 'that you will not call my stories by the sublime name 
 of my works ; I shall else be ashamed when the little 
 mouse comes forth.' 
 
 Maria's correspondence is delightful, and conveys us 
 right away into that bygone age. The figures rapidly 
 move across her scene, talking and unconsciously describ- 
 ing themselves as they go ; you see them all through the 
 eyes of the observant little lady. She did not go very 
 
 xxvi
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 deep ; she seems to me to have made kindly acquaintance 
 with some, to have admired others with artless enthusiasm. 
 I don't think she troubled herself much about complica- 
 tion of feeling ; she liked people to make repartees, or to 
 invent machines, to pay their bills, and to do their duty 
 in a commonplace and cheerfully stoical fashion. But 
 then Maria Edgeworth certainly did not belong to our 
 modern schools, sipping the emetic goblet to give flavour to 
 daily events, nor to that still more alarming and spreading 
 clique of dcgeneres who insist upon administering such 
 doses to others to relieve the tedium of the road of life. 
 
 Perhaps we in our time scarcely do justice to Miss 
 Edgeworth's extraordinary cleverness and brightness of 
 apprehension. There is more fun than humour in 
 her work, and those were the days of good rollicking 
 jokes and laughter. Details change so quickly that it 
 is almost impossible to grasp entirely the aims and in- 
 tentions of a whole set of people just a little different 
 from ourselves in every single thing ; who held their 
 heads differently, who pointed their toes differently, who 
 addressed each other in a language just a little unlike 
 our own. The very meanings of the words shift from 
 one generation to another, and we are perhaps more 
 really in harmony with our great-great-grandfathers than 
 with the more immediate generations. 
 
 Her society was charming, so every one agrees ; and 
 her acquaintance with all the most remarkable men of her 
 time must not be forgotten, nor the genuine regard with 
 which she inspired all who came across her path. 
 
 ' In external appearance she is quite the fairy of our 
 nursery tale, the Whippety Stearic, if you remember such 
 a sprite, who came flying through the window to work 
 all sorts of marvels,' writes Sir Walter. 'I will never 
 
 xxvii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 believe but what she has a wand in her pocket, and 
 pulls it out to conjure a little before she begins those 
 very striking pictures of manners.' 
 
 Among others Sir William Hamilton has left a pleasing 
 description of Miss Edgeworth. ' If you would study 
 and admire her as she deserves, you must see her at 
 home,' says he, 'and hear her talk. She knows an infinite 
 number of anecdotes about interesting places and persons, 
 which she tells extremely well, and never except when 
 they arise naturally out of the subject. . . . To crown her 
 merits, she seemed to take a prodigious fancy to me, and 
 promised to be at home, and made me promise to be 
 at Edgeworthstown for a fortnight some time next vaca- 
 tion.' We owe to him also an amusing sketch of some 
 other collateral members of the family ; the fine ani- 
 mated old lady, who immediately gets him to explain 
 the reason why a concave mirror inverts while a convex 
 mirror leaves them erect ; the young ladies, one of 
 whom was particularly anxious to persuade him that the 
 roundness of the planets was produced by friction, perhaps 
 by their being shaken together like marbles in a bag. 
 
 There is also an interesting letter from Sir W. Hamilton 
 at Edgeworthstown on 23rd September 1829. Wordsworth 
 is also staying there. ' After some persuasion Francis 
 and I succeed in engaging Mr. Wordsworth in many 
 very interesting conversations. Miss Edgeworth has had 
 for some time a very serious illness, but she was able to 
 join us for dinner the day that I arrived, and she exhibited 
 in her conversations with Mr. Wordsworth a good deal 
 of her usual brilliancy ; she also engaged Mr. Marshall 
 in some long conversations upon Ireland, and even Mr. 
 Marshall's son, whose talent for silence seems to be so very 
 profound, was thawed a little on Monday evening, and 
 
 xxviii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 discussed after tea the formation of the solar system. 
 Miss Edgeworth tells me that she is at last employed 
 in writing for the public after a long interval, but does 
 not expect to have her work soon ready for publication.' 1 
 Besides Wordsworth and Sir William Hamilton and Mr. 
 Marshall, we presently come to Sir John Herschell. 'I 
 saw your admirable friend Miss Edgeworth lately in town,' 
 he writes to Hamilton; 'she is a most warm admirer 
 of yours, and praise such as hers is what any man might 
 be proud of.' Later on Miss Edgeworth, corresponding 
 with Sir W. Hamilton, tells him she is ill and forbidden to 
 write, or even to think. This is what she thinks of thinking; 
 1 1 am glad to see that the severe sciences do not destroy 
 the energy and grace of the imagination, but only chasten 
 it and impart their philosophical influence.' 
 
 Certain events are remembered and mourned for gener- 
 ations, so there are others, happy and interesting in them- 
 selves, which must continue to give satisfaction long after 
 they are over, and long after those concerned in them 
 have passed away. And certainly among things pleasant to 
 remember is the story of Sir Walter Scott's visit to Ireland 
 in July 1825, when he received so warm a greeting from 
 the country and spent those happy hours with Miss Edge- 
 worth at Edgeworthstown. Fortunately for us, Lockhart 
 
 1 There is a curious criticism of Miss Edgeworth by Robert Hall, the 
 great preacher, which should not be passed over. 'As to her style,' he 
 says, ' she is simple and elegant, content to convey her thoughts in their 
 most plain and natural form, that is indeed the perfection of style. . . . 
 In point of tendency,' he continues, ' I should class her books among the 
 most irreligious I ever read. . . . She does not attack religion nor inveigh 
 against it, but makes it appear unnecessary by exhibiting perfect virtue 
 without it. . . . No works ever produced so bad an effect on my own 
 mind as hers.'
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 was one of the party. Anne Scott, and Walter the 
 soldier, and Jane Scott the bride, were also travelling in 
 Sir Walter's train. The reception which Ireland gave 
 Sir Walter was a warm-hearted ovation. ' It would be end- 
 less to enumerate the distinguished persons who, morning 
 after morning, crowded to his levee in St. Stephen's 
 Green,' says Lockhart, and he quotes an old saying of Sir 
 Robert Peel's, ' that Sir Walter's reception in the High 
 Street of Edinburgh in 1822 was the first thing that gave 
 him (Peel) a notion of the electric shock of a nation's 
 gratitude.' 'I doubt if even that scene surpassed what 
 I myself witnessed,' continues the biographer, 'when Sir 
 Walter returned down Dame Street after inspecting the 
 Castle of Dublin.' 
 
 From ovations to friendship it was Sir Walter's inclin- 
 ation to turn. On the 1st August he came to Edgeworths- 
 town, accompanied by his family. 'We remained there 
 for several days, making excursions to Loch Oel, etc. Mr. 
 Lovell Edgeworth had his classical mansion filled every 
 evening with a succession of distinguished friends. Here, 
 above all, we had the opportunity of seeing in what uni- 
 versal respect and comfort a gentleman's family may live in 
 that country, provided only they live there habitually and 
 do their duty. . . . Here we found neither mud hovels nor 
 naked peasantry, but snug cottages and smiling faces all 
 about. . . . Here too we pleased ourselves with recognis- 
 ing some of the sweetest features in Goldsmith's picture of 
 " Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain."' Oliver 
 Goldsmith received his education at this very school 
 of Edgeworthstown, and Pallas More, the little hamlet 
 where the author of The Vicar of Wakefield first saw the 
 light, is still, as it was then, the property of the Edgeworths. 
 
 So Scott came to visit his little friend, and the giant was 
 
 XXX
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 cheered and made welcome by her charming hospitality. 
 It was a last gleam of sunshine in that noble life. 
 We instinctively feel how happy they all were in each 
 other's good company. We can almost overhear some 
 of their talk, as they walk together under the shade of 
 the trees of the park. One can imagine him laughing 
 in his delightful hearty way, half joking, half caressing. 
 Lockhart had used some phrase (it is Lockhart who tells 
 us the story) which conveyed the impression that he suspects 
 poets and novelists of looking at life and at the world 
 chiefly as materials for art. 'A soft and pensive shade 
 came over Scott's face. " I fear you have some very 
 young ideas in your head," he says. " God help us, what a 
 poor world this would be if that were the true doctrine ! I 
 have read books enough, and observed and conversed with 
 enough eminent minds in my time, but I assure you I have 
 heard higher sentiments from the lips of poor uneducated 
 men and women, exerting the spirit of severe yet gentle 
 heroism, or speaking their simple thoughts, than I ever 
 met with out of the pages of the Bible. We shall never 
 learn to feel and respect our real calling unless we have 
 taught ourselves to consider everything as moonshine com- 
 pared with the education of the heart,"' said the great 
 teacher. ' Maria did not listen to this without some water 
 in her eyes, — her tears are always ready when a generous 
 string is touched, — but she brushed them gaily aside, and 
 said, "You see how it is: Dean Swift said he had written 
 his books in order that people should learn to treat him 
 like a great lord ; Sir Walter writes his in order that he 
 might be able to treat his people as a great lord ought to do.'" 
 
 Years and years afterwards Edward FitzGerald stayed at 
 Edgeworthstown, and he also carries us there in one of his 
 
 xxx i
 
 PREFACE 
 
 letters. He had been at college with Mr. Frank Edgeworth, 
 who had succeeded to the estate, and Fitzgerald now in 1828 
 came to stay with him. The host had been called away, 
 but the guest describes his many hostesses : ' Edgeworth's 
 mother, aged seventy : four ; his sister, the great Maria, aged 
 seventy-two ; and another cousin or something. All these 
 people were pleasant and kind, the house pleasant, the 
 grounds ditto, a good library, so here I am quite at home, 
 but surely must go to England soon.' One can imagine 
 FitzGerald sitting in the library with his back to the window 
 and writing his letters and reading his thirty-two sets of 
 novels, while the rain is steadily pouring outside, and the 
 Great Authoress (so he writes her down) as busy as a bee 
 sitting by chattering and making a catalogue of her books. 
 'We talk about Walter Scott, whom she adores, and are 
 merry all day long,' he says. 'When I began this letter 
 I thought I had something to say, but I believe the truth 
 was I had nothing to do.' 
 
 Two years later Mr. FitzGerald is again there and writing 
 to Frederick Tennyson : ' I set sail from Dublin to-morrow 
 night, bearing the heartfelt regrets of all the people of 
 Ireland with me.' Then comes a flash of his kind 
 searching lantern : ' I had a pleasant week with Edge- 
 worth. He farms and is a justice, and goes to sleep 
 on the sofa of evenings. At odd moments he looks into 
 Spinoza and Petrarch. People respect him very much in 
 these parts.' Edward FitzGerald seems to have had a 
 great regard for his host ; the more he knows him the 
 more he cares for him ; he describes him ' firing away 
 about the odes of Pindar.' They fired noble broadsides 
 those men of the early Victorian times, and when we 
 listen we still seem to hear their echoes rolling into the 
 far distance. Mr. FitzGerald ends his letter with a fore- 
 
 xxxii
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 boding too soon to be realised : ' Old Miss Edgcworth is 
 wearing away. She has a capital bright soul, which even 
 now shines quite youthfully through her faded carcase.' It 
 was in May 1849 that Maria Edgeworth went to her rest. 
 She died almost suddenly, with no long suffering, in the 
 arms of her faithful friend and step-mother. 
 
 XXX111
 
 NOTES ON 'CASTLE RACKRENT ' 
 
 In 1799, when Maria was in London, she and her 
 father went to call upon Mr. Johnson, the bookseller, who 
 was then imprisoned in the King's Bench for a publication 
 which was considered to be treasonable, and they probably 
 then and there arranged with him for the publication 
 of Castle Rackrent, for in January 1800, writing to her 
 cousin, Miss Ruxton, Maria says, 'Will you tell me what 
 means you have of getting parcels from London to Arundel, 
 because I wish to send my aunt a few popular tales. . . . 
 We have begged Johnson to send Castle Rackrent, and 
 hope it has reached you. Do not mention that it is ours.'' 
 
 The second edition of Castle Rackrent came out with 
 Miss Edgeworth's name to it in 181 1. 'Its success was 
 so triumphant,' Mrs. Edgeworth writes, 'that some one — 
 I heard his name at the time, but do not now remember 
 it — not only asserted that he was the author, but actually 
 took the trouble to copy out several chapters with 
 corrections and erasions as if it was his original manu- 
 script.' 
 
 It was when Miss Edgeworth first came to Ireland, — 
 so she tells one of her correspondents, — that she met the 
 original Thady of Castle Rackrent. His character struck 
 her very much, and the story came into her mind. She 
 purposely added to the agent's age so as to give time for 
 the events to happen. 
 
 xxxiv
 
 NOTES ON ' CASTLE RACKRENT ' 
 
 Honest Thady tells the story ; you can almost hear his 
 voice, and see him as he stands : ' I wear a long greatcoat 
 winter and summer, which is very handy, as I never put my 
 arms into the sleeves ; they are as good as new, though come 
 Holantide next I've had it these seven years : it holds on by 
 a single button round my neck, cloak fashion. To look at 
 me, you would hardly think " Poor Thady " was the father 
 of Attorney Quirk ; he is a high gentleman, and never 
 minds what poor Thady says, and having better than 
 fifteen hundred a year landed estate, looks down upon 
 honest Thady ; but I wash my hands of his doings, and 
 as I have lived, so will I die, true and loyal to the family. 
 The family of Rackrents is, I am proud to say, one of 
 the most ancient in the kingdom.' And then he gives 
 the history of the Rackrents, beginning with Sir Patrick, 
 who could sit out the best man in Ireland, let alone the 
 three kingdoms itself, and who fitted up the chicken-house 
 to accommodate his friends when they honoured him 
 unexpectedly with their company. There was 'such a 
 fine whillaluh at Sir Patrick's funeral, you might have heard 
 it to the farthest end of the county, and happy the man 
 who could get but a sight of the hearse.' Then came 
 Sir Murtagh, who used to boast that he had a law-suit for 
 every letter in the alphabet. ' He dug up a fairy-mount 
 against my advice,' says Thady, 'and had no luck after- 
 wards. ... Sir Murtagh in his passion broke a blood- 
 vessel, and all the law in the land could do nothing in 
 that case. . . . My lady had a fine jointure settled upon 
 her, and took herself away, to the great joy of the tenantry. 
 I never said anything one way or the other,' says Thady, 
 ' whilst she was part of the family, but got up to see her go 
 at three o'clock in the morning. " It's a fine morning, 
 honest Thady," says she; "good-bye to ye," and into the 
 
 xxxv c
 
 NOTES ON ' CASTLE RACKRENT ' 
 
 carriage she stepped, without a word more, good or bad, or 
 even half-a-crown, but I made my bow, and stood to see 
 her safe out of sight for the sake of the family.' 
 
 How marvellously vivid it all is ! every word tells as 
 the generations pass before us. The very spirit of 
 romantic Irish fidelity is incarnate in Thady. Jason 
 Quirk represents the feline element, which also belongs 
 to our extraordinary Celtic race. The little volume 
 contains the history of a nation. It is a masterpiece 
 which Miss Edgeworth has never surpassed. It is almost 
 provoking to have so many details of other and less in- 
 teresting stories, such as Early Lessons, A Knapsack, The 
 Prussian Vase, etc., and to hear so little of these two books 
 by which she will be best remembered. 
 
 xxxvi
 
 NOTES ON 'THE ABSENTEE' 
 
 In August i8ir, we are told, Maria wrote a little play 
 about landlords and tenants for the children of her sister, 
 Mrs. Beddoes. Mr. Edgeworth tried to get the play pro- 
 duced on the London boards. Writing to her aunt, Mrs. 
 Ruxton, Maria says, ' Sheridan has answered as I foresaw 
 he must, that in the present state of this country the Lord 
 Chamberlain would not license The Absentee ; besides there 
 would be a difficulty in finding actors for so many Irish 
 characters.' The little drama was then turned into a story, 
 by Mr. Edgeworth's advice. Patronage was laid aside for 
 the moment, and The Absentee appeared in its place in the 
 second part of Tales of Fashionab/e Life. We all know Lord 
 Macaulay's verdict upon this favourite story of his, the last 
 scene of which he specially admired and compared to the 
 Odyssey} Mrs. Edgeworth tells us that much of it was 
 written while Maria was suffering a misery of toothache. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth's own letters all about this time are 
 much more concerned with sociabilities than with litera- 
 ture. We read of a pleasant dance at Mrs. Burke's ; of 
 philosophers at sport in Connemara ; of cribbage, and 
 company, and country houses, and Lord Longford's 
 
 1 Lord Macaulay was not the only notable admirer of The Absentee. 
 The present writer remembers hearing Professor Ruskin on one occasion 
 break out in praise and admiration of the book. ' You can learn more 
 by reading it of Irish politics,' he said, ' than from a thousand columns 
 out of blue books. ' 
 
 xxxvii
 
 NOTES ON * THE ABSENTEE ' 
 
 merry anecdotes during her visit to him. Miss Edgeworth, 
 who scarcely mentions her own works, seems much in- 
 terested at this time in a book called Mary and her Caf, 
 which she is reading with some of the children. 
 
 Little scraps of news (I cannot resist quoting one or 
 two of them) come in oddly mixed with these personal 
 records of work and family talk. ' There is news of the 
 Empress (Marie Louise), who is liked not at all by the 
 Parisians ; she is too haughty, and sits back in her carriage 
 when she goes through the streets.' Of 'Josephine, who 
 is living very happily, amusing herself with her gardens 
 and her shrubberies.' This ci-devant Empress and 
 Kennedy and Co., the seedsmen, are in partnership, says 
 Miss Edgeworth. And then among the lists of all the 
 grand people Maria meets in London in 1813 (Madame 
 de Stael is mentioned as expected), she gives an interesting 
 account of an actual visitor, Peggy Langan, who was grand- 
 daughter to Thady in Castle Rackrent. Peggy went to 
 England with Mrs. Beddoes, and was for thirty years in 
 the service of Mrs. Haldimand we are told, and was own 
 sister to Simple Susan. 
 
 The story of The Absentee is a very simple one, and con- 
 cerns Irish landlords living in England, who ignore their 
 natural duties and station in life, and whose chief ambition 
 is to take their place in the English fashionable world. The 
 grand English ladies are talking of Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 ' " If you knew all she endures to look, speak, move, 
 breathe like an Englishwoman, you would pity her,' said 
 Lady Langdale. 
 
 ' " Yes, and you cawnt conceive the peens she teekes to 
 talk of the teebles and cheers, and to thank Q, and, with so 
 much teeste, to speak pure English," said Mrs. Dareville. 
 
 ' "Pure cockney, you mean," said Lady Langdale.' 
 xxxviii
 
 NOTES ON ' THE ABSENTEE ' 
 
 Lord Colambre, the son of the lady in question, here walks 
 across the room, not wishing to listen to any more strictures 
 upon his mother. He is the very most charming of walking 
 gentlemen, and when stung by conscience he goes off to 
 Ireland, disguised in a big cloak, to visit his father's tenantry 
 and to judge for himself of the state of affairs, all our 
 sympathies go with him. On his way he stops at Tusculum, 
 scarcely less well known than its classical namesake. He is 
 entertained by Mrs. Raffarty, that esthetical lady who 
 is determined to have a little ' taste ' of everything at 
 Tusculum. She leads the way into a little conservatory, 
 and a little pinery, and a little grapery, and a little aviary, 
 and a little pheasantry, and a little dairy for show, and a 
 little cottage for ditto, with a grotto full of shells, and a 
 little hermitage full of earwigs, and a little ruin full of 
 looking-glass, to enlarge and multiply the effect of the 
 Gothic. . . . But you could only put your head in, because 
 it was just fresh painted, and though there had been a fire 
 ordered in the ruin all night, it had only smoked. . . . 
 
 'As they proceeded and walked through the grounds, 
 from which Mrs. Raffarty, though she had done her best, 
 could not take that which nature had given, she pointed 
 out to my lord "a happy moving termination," consisting 
 of a Chinese bridge, with a fisherman leaning over the 
 rails. On a sudden, the fisherman was seen to tumble 
 over the bridge into the water. The gentlemen ran to 
 extricate the poor fellow, while they heard Mrs. Raffarty 
 bawling to his lordship to beg he would never mind, and 
 not trouble himself. 
 
 'When they arrived at the bridge, they saw the man 
 hanging from part of the bridge, and apparently struggling 
 in the water ; but when they attempted to pull him up, 
 they found it was only a stuffed figure which had been 
 
 xxxix
 
 NOTES ON 'THE ABSENTEE' 
 
 pulled into the stream by a real fish, which had seized hold 
 of the bait.' 
 
 The dinner-party is too long to quote, but it is written 
 in Miss Edgeworth's most racy and delightful vein of fun. 
 
 One more little fact should not be omitted in any 
 mention of The Absentee. One of the heroines is Miss 
 Broadhurst, the heiress. The Edgeworth family were much 
 interested, soon after the book appeared, to hear that a real 
 living Miss Broadhurst, an heiress, had appeared upon the 
 scenes, and was, moreover, engaged to be married to Sneyd 
 Edgeworth, one of the eldest sons of the family. In the story, 
 says Mrs. Edgeworth, Miss Broadhurst selects from her 
 lovers one who 'unites worth and wit,' and then she goes 
 on to quote an old epigram of Mr. Edgeworth's on himself, 
 which concluded with, ' There's an Edge to his wit and 
 there's worth in his heart.' 
 
 Mr. Edgeworth, who was as usual busy building church 
 spires for himself and other people, abandoned his engin- 
 eering for a time to criticise his daughter's story, and he 
 advised that the conclusion of The Absentee should be a 
 letter from Larry the postilion. ' He wrote one, she wrote 
 another,' says Mrs. Edgeworth. 'He much preferred 
 hers, which is the admirable finale of The Absentee.' 1 And 
 just about this time Lord Ross is applied to, to frank the 
 Edgeworth manuscripts. 
 
 ' I cannot by any form of words express how delighted 
 I am that you are none of you angry with me,' writes 
 modest Maria to her cousin, Miss Ruxton, 'and that 
 my uncle and aunt are pleased with what they have read 
 of The Absentee. I long to hear whether their favour 
 continues to the end, and extends to the catastrophe, 
 that dangerous rock upon which poor authors are 
 wrecked.' 
 
 xl
 
 I*. K. GORDON 
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' He told her to my face that she should not put on her weeds 
 before her husband's death ' . . . 
 
 ' " Where are the trees," said she, "my dear?" — " You are blind 
 my dear," says he ; " what are these under your eyes?" ' 
 
 ' Came down herself into the kitchen to speak to the cook about 
 the sausages ' 
 
 ' Love to sit on my knee whilst I told him stories ' 
 
 ' " I'm out a luck," said he' . 
 
 '"Dear ma'am, and what's the matter?" says I. "Matter 
 enough," says she ' 
 
 ' I wiped down the window-seat with my wig, and bade him a 
 " good-morrow " as kindly as I could ' 
 
 ' " Look at him," says I, pointing to Sir Condy ' 
 
 1 At this Judy takes up the corner of her apron, and puts it first 
 to one eye and then to t'other ' 
 
 • "Judy ! Judy ! have you no touch of feeling? Won't you stay 
 to help us nurse him ? " ' . 
 
 xli 
 
 16 
 
 18 
 26 
 32 
 
 45 
 
 49 
 56 
 
 62 
 71
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 PAGE 
 
 ' " No, sir, no ! " cried Lord Colambre, holding firm the paper' 98 
 
 '" But I can't refuse your la'ship " ' . . . .103 
 
 ' " Then, Colambre, you are very disobliging " ' . .109 
 
 ' " Mordicai's !" exclaimed Lord Clonbrony, with a sudden blush, 
 
 which he endeavoured to hide by taking snuff' . .111 
 
 '"How pretty ! — how elegant ! Now that quite suits my teeste /" ' 129 
 
 '"Lady Langdale, you may curtsy to me now — nobody is 
 
 looking"' . . . . . .132 
 
 ' For a moment, a window-curtain drawn aside let the sun shine 
 
 upon her face ' . . . . . 137 
 
 ' " So they stood looking at it through the wall " ' . .159 
 
 ' " If you could stand still for one single particle of a second " ' . 1 74 
 
 ' The figure of an interesting-looking woman, in deep mourning, 
 
 appeared ' . . . . . 193 
 
 ' Ejaculating over one of Miss Nugent's gloves, which he had 
 
 picked up ' . . . . . 203 
 
 ' The colonel skated forward on the polished oak floor, balancing 
 
 himself with outstretched arms ' . . . .213 
 
 ' " I detest that Lady de Cresey to such a degree "' . 225 
 
 ' "See the reward of all your services, indeed ! — What an un- 
 reasonable, ungrateful man ! " ' . . . 235 
 
 • " Mrs. Raffarty," says he, " it's all your own fault " ' . . 248 
 
 ' " Ah, these red check curtains," said she, letting them down '. 252 
 
 '"Then, I'm tired"' ...... 257 
 
 ' "Well, sir, what are you following and sticking to me, like my 
 
 shadow, for " ' . . . . . 263 
 
 xlii
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 • The priest positively refused to take anything ' . .271 
 
 ' " Let him speak," said Lord Colambre, in a tone of authority ' 275 
 
 1 Garraghty started back '..... 284 
 
 '"First came in, hobbling, rank and gout; next, rank and 
 
 gaming " ' . . . . . . 299 
 
 ' "Oh, mother ! " cried Lord Colambre, throwing himself at Lady 
 
 Clonbrony's feet ' . . . . . . 309 
 
 ' As it flashed across her mind, she started back ; her face grew 
 
 crimson, and, in the same instant, pale as death ' . . 323 
 
 • " My dear count ! the greater pleasure for being unexpected " ' 329 
 
 ' He now joyfully and rapidly went on ' . . . 339 
 
 ' She explained, that she " could not justly say where he was " ' 343 
 
 '"Take care! Don't mention him to me " ' . . • 35 1 
 
 ' "Yes, get up ! get up ! my own Grace, and be surprised" ' . 369 
 
 ' " But now, my charming Grace," said Lord Colambre, kneeling 
 
 beside her ' . . . . . .371 
 
 xlui
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT
 
 JL M„ GORDON 
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 
 
 The prevailing taste of the public for anecdote has been cen- 
 sured and ridiculed by critics who aspire to the character of 
 superior wisdom ; but if we consider it in a proper point of 
 view, this taste is an incontestable proof of the good sense and 
 profoundly philosophic temper of the present times. Of the 
 numbers who study, or at least who read history, how few 
 derive any advantage from their labours ! The heroes of 
 history are so decked out by the fine fancy of the professed 
 historian ; they talk in such measured prose, and act from such 
 sublime or such diabolical motives, that few have sufficient 
 taste, wickedness, or heroism, to sympathise in their fate. 
 Besides, there is much uncertainty even in the best authen- 
 ticated ancient or modern histories ; and that love of truth, 
 which in some minds is innate and immutable, necessarily leads 
 to a love of secret memoirs and private anecdotes. We cannot 
 judge either of the feelings or of the characters of men with perfect 
 accuracy, from their actions or their appearance in public ; it is 
 from their careless conversations, their half-finished sentences, 
 that we may hope with the greatest probability of success to 
 discover their real characters. The life of a great or of a little 
 man written by himself, the familiar letters, the diary of any 
 individual published by his friends or by his enemies, after his 
 
 xlvii
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 decease, are esteemed important literary curiosities. We are 
 surely justified, in this eager desire, to collect the most minute 
 facts relative to the domestic lives, not only of the great and 
 good, but even of the worthless and insignificant, since it is 
 only by a comparison of their actual happiness or misery in 
 the privacy of domestic life that we can form a just estimate 
 of the real reward of virtue, or the real punishment of vice. 
 That the great are not as happy as they seem, that the 
 external circumstances of fortune and rank do not constitute 
 felicity, is asserted by every moralist : the historian can seldom, 
 consistently with his dignity, pause to illustrate this truth ; it is 
 therefore to the biographer we must have recourse. After we 
 have beheld splendid characters playing their parts on the 
 great theatre of the world, with all the advantages of stage 
 effect and decoration, we anxiously beg to be admitted behind 
 the scenes, that we may take a nearer view of the actors and 
 actresses. 
 
 Some may perhaps imagine that the value of biography 
 depends upon the judgment and taste of the biographer ; but 
 on the contrary it may be maintained, that the merits of a 
 biographer are inversely as the extent of his intellectual powers 
 and of his literary talents. A plain unvarnished tale is pre- 
 ferable to the most highly ornamented narrative. Where we 
 see that a man has the power, we may naturally suspect that 
 he has the will to deceive us ; and those who are used to 
 literary manufacture know how much is often sacrificed to 
 the rounding of a period, or the pointing of an antithesis. 
 
 That the ignorant may have their prejudices as well as the 
 learned cannot be disputed ; but we see and despise vulgar 
 errors : we never bow to the authority of him who has no 
 great name to sanction his absurdities. The partiality which 
 blinds a biographer to the defects of his hero, in proportion as 
 it is gross, ceases to be dangerous ; but if it be concealed by 
 the appearance of candour, which men of great abilities best 
 know how to assume, it endangers our judgment sometimes, 
 
 xlviii
 
 AUTHOR'S PREFACE 
 
 and sometimes our morals. If her Grace the Duchess of 
 Newcastle, instead of penning her lord's elaborate eulogium, 
 had undertaken to write the life of Savage, we should not have 
 been in any danger of mistaking an idle, ungrateful libertine 
 for a man of genius and virtue. The talents of a biographer 
 are often fatal to his reader. For these reasons the public 
 often judiciously countenance those who, without sagacity to 
 discriminate character, without elegance of style to relieve the 
 tediousness of narrative, without enlargement of mind to draw 
 any conclusions from the facts they relate, simply pour forth 
 anecdotes, and retail conversations, with all the minute prolixity 
 of a gossip in a country town. 
 
 The author of the following Memoirs has upon these grounds 
 fair claims to the public favour and attention ; he was an il- 
 literate old steward, whose partiality to the family, in which he 
 was bred and born, must be obvious to the reader. He tells 
 the history of the Rackrent family in his vernacular idiom, and 
 in the full confidence that Sir Patrick, Sir Murtagh, Sir Kit, 
 and Sir Condy Rackrent's affairs will be as interesting to all 
 the world as they were to himself. Those who were acquainted 
 with the manners of a certain class of the gentry of Ireland 
 some years ago, will want no evidence of the truth of honest 
 Thady's narrative ; to those who are totally unacquainted with 
 Ireland, the following Memoirs will perhaps be scarcely in- 
 telligible, or probably they may appear perfectly incredible. 
 For the information of the ignorant English reader, a few 
 notes have been subjoined by the editor, and he had it once in 
 contemplation to translate the language of Thady into plain 
 English ; but Thady's idiom is incapable of translation, and, 
 besides, the authenticity of his story would have been more 
 exposed to doubt if it were not told in his own characteristic 
 manner. Several years ago he related to the editor the 
 history of the Rackrent family, and it was with some difficulty 
 that he was persuaded to have it committed to writing ; how- 
 ever, his feelings for ' the honour of the family] as he 
 
 xlix
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 expressed himself, prevailed over his habitual laziness, and 
 he at length completed the narrative which is now laid before 
 the public. 
 
 The editor hopes his readers will observe that these are 
 ' tales of other times ; ' that the manners depicted in the follow- 
 ing pages are not those of the present age ; the race of the 
 Rackrents has long since been extinct in Ireland ; and the 
 drunken Sir Patrick, the litigious Sir Murtagh, the fighting Sir 
 Kit, and the slovenly Sir Condy, are characters which could 
 no more be met with at present in Ireland, than Squire Western 
 or Parson Trulliber in England. There is a time when in- 
 dividuals qan bear to be rallied for their past follies and 
 absurdities, after they have acquired new habits and a new 
 consciousness. Nations, as well as individuals, gradually lose 
 attachment to their identity, and the present generation is 
 amused, rather than offended, by the ridicule that is thrown 
 upon its ancestors. 
 
 Probably we shall soon have it in our power, in a hundred 
 instances, to verify the truth of these observations. 
 
 When Ireland loses her identity by an union with Great 
 Britain, she will look back, with a smile of good-humoured 
 complacency, on the Sir Kits and Sir Condys of her former 
 existence. 
 
 1800.
 
 I* M. GORDON 
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Monday Morning} 
 Having, out of friendship for the family, upon whose estate, 
 praised be Heaven ! I and mine have lived rent-free time out 
 of mind, voluntarily undertaken to publish the Memoirs OF 
 THE Rackrent Family, I think it my duty to say a few words, 
 in the first place, concerning myself. My real name is Thady 
 Quirk, though in the family I have always been known by no 
 other than ' Honest Thady,' afterward, in the time of Sir 
 Murtagh, deceased, I remember to hear them calling me ' Old 
 Thady;' and now I've come to 'Poor Thady'; for I wear a 
 long greatcoat- winter and summer, which is very handy, as 
 
 1 See Glossary. 
 
 2 The cloak, or mantle, as described by Thady, is of high antiquity. 
 Spenser, in his View of the State of Ireland, proves that it is not, as 
 some have imagined, peculiarly derived from the Scythians, but that 
 ' most nations of the world anciently used the mantle ; for the Jews used 
 it, as you may read of Elias's mantle, etc. ; the Chaldees also used it, as 
 you may read in Diodorus ; the Egyptians likewise used it, as you may 
 read in Herodotus, and may be gathered by the description of Berenice in 
 the Greek Commentary upon Callimachus ; the Greeks also used it 
 anciently, as appeared by Venus's mantle lined with stars, though after- 
 ward they changed the form thereof into their cloaks, called Pallai, as 
 some of the Irish also use ; and the ancient Latins and Romans used it, as 
 you may read in Virgil, who was a great antiquary, that Evander, when 
 /Eneas came to him at his feast, did entertain and feast him sitting on 
 the ground, and lying on mantles : insomuch that he useth the very word 
 man tile for a mantle — 
 
 " Humi mantilia sternum : " 
 so that it seemeth that the mantle was a general habit to most nations, 
 and not proper to the Scythians only.' 
 
 Spenser knew the convenience of the said mantle, as housing, bedding, 
 and clothing : 
 
 <& I B
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 I never put my arms into the sleeves ; they are as good as 
 new, though come Holantide next I've had it these seven 
 years : it holds on by a single button round my neck, cloak 
 fashion. To look at me, you would hardly think ' Poor 
 Thady ' was the father of Attorney Quirk ; he is a high gentle- 
 man, and never minds what poor Thady says, and having better 
 than fifteen hundred a year, landed estate, looks down upon 
 honest Thady ; but I wash my hands of his doings, and as I 
 have lived so will I die, true and loyal to the family. The 
 family of the Rackrents is, I am proud to say, one of the most 
 ancient in the kingdom. Everybody knows this is not the 
 old family name, which was O'Shaughlin, related to the kings 
 of Ireland — but that was before my time. My grandfather 
 was driver to the great Sir Patrick O'Shaughlin, and I heard 
 him, when I was a boy, telling how the Castle Rackrent estate 
 came to Sir Patrick ; Sir Tallyhoo Rackrent was cousin- 
 german to him, and had a fine estate of his own, only never a 
 gate upon it, it being his maxim that a car was the best gate. 
 Poor gentleman ! he lost a fine hunter and his life, at last, by 
 it, all in one day's hunt. But I ought to bless that day, for 
 the estate came straight into the family, upon one condition, 
 which Sir Patrick O'Shaughlin at the time took sadly to heart, 
 they say, but thought better of it afterwards, seeing how large 
 a stake depended upon it : that he should, by Act of Parliament, 
 take and bear the surname and arms of Rackrent. 
 
 Now it was that the world was to see what was in Sir 
 Patrick. On coining into the estate he gave the finest en- 
 
 '/>'<?;?. Because the commodity doth not countervail the discommodity ; 
 for the inconveniences which thereby do arise are much more many ; for 
 it is a fit house for an outlaw, a meet bed for a rebel, and an apt cloak 
 for a thief. First, the outlaw being, for his many crimes and villanies, 
 banished from the towns and houses of honest men, and wandering in 
 waste places, far from danger of law, maketh his mantle his house, and 
 under it covereth himself from the wrath of Heaven, from the offence of 
 the earth, and from the sight of men. When it raineth, it is his pent- 
 house ; when it bloweth, it is his tent ; when it freezeth, it is his 
 tabernacle. In summer he can wear it loose ; in winter he can wrap it 
 close ; at all times he can use it ; never heavy, never cumbersome. Like- 
 wise for a rebel it is as serviceable ; for in this war that he maketh (if at 
 least it deserves the name of war), when he still flieth from his foe, and 
 lurketh in the thick woods (this should be black bogs) and straight 
 passages, waiting for advantages, it is his bed, yea, and almost his house- 
 hold stuff. '
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 tertainment ever was heard of in the country ; not a man 
 could stand after supper but Sir Patrick himself, who could 
 sit out the best man in Ireland, let alone the three kingdoms 
 itself. 1 He had his house, from one year's end to another, 
 as full of company as ever it could hold, and fuller ; for rather 
 than be left out of the parties at Castle Rackrent, many 
 gentlemen, and those men of the first consequence and landed 
 estates in the country — such as the O'Neills of Ballynagrotty, 
 and the Moneygawls of Mount Juliet's Town, and O'Shannons 
 of New Town Tullyhog — made it their choice, often and often, 
 when there was no room to be had for love nor money, in 
 long winter nights, to sleep in the chicken-house, which Sir 
 Patrick had fitted up for the purpose of accommodating his 
 friends and the public in general, who honoured him with 
 their company unexpectedly at Castle Rackrent ; and this 
 went on I can't tell you how long. The whole country rang 
 with his praises ! — Long life to him ! I'm sure I love to look 
 upon his picture, now opposite to me ; though I never saw 
 him, he must have been a portly gentleman — his neck some- 
 thing short, and remarkable for the largest pimple on his nose, 
 which, by his particular desire, is still extant in his picture, 
 said to be a striking likeness, though taken when young. He 
 is said also to be the inventor of raspberry whisky, which is 
 very likely, as nobody has ever appeared to dispute it with 
 him, and as there still exists a broken punch-bowl at Castle 
 Rackrent, in the garret, with an inscription to that effect — a 
 great curiosity. A few days before his death he was very 
 merry ; it being his honour's birthday, he called my grand- 
 father in — God bless him ! — to drink the company's health, and 
 filled a bumper himself, but could not carry it to his head, on 
 account of the great shake in his hand ; on this he cast his 
 joke, saying, ' What would my poor father say to me if he 
 was to pop out of the grave, and see me now ? I remember 
 when I was a little boy, the first bumper of claret he gave me 
 after dinner, how he praised me for carrying it so steady to 
 my mouth. Here's my thanks to him — a bumper toast.' 
 Then he fell to singing the favourite song he learned from his 
 father — for the last time, poor gentleman — he sung it that 
 night as loud and as hearty as ever, with a chorus : 
 
 1 See Glossary. 
 3
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 lie that goes to bed, and goes to bed sober, 
 
 Falls as the leaves do, falls as the leaves do, and dies in October ; 
 But he that goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow, 
 Lives as he ought to do, lives as he ought to do, and dies an 
 honest fellow. 
 
 Sir Patrick died that night : just as the company rose to 
 drink his health with three cheers, he fell down in a sort of 
 fit, and was carried off; they sat it out, and were surprised, on 
 inquiry in the morning, to find that it was all over with poor 
 Sir Patrick. Never did any gentleman live and die more 
 beloved in the country by rich and poor. His funeral was 
 such a one as was never known before or since in the county ! 
 All the gentlemen in the three counties were at it ; far and 
 near, how they flocked ! my great-grandfather said, that to 
 see all the women, even in their red cloaks, you would have 
 taken them for the army drawn out. Then such a fine 
 whillaluh ! l you might have heard it to the farthest end of the 
 county, and happy the man who could get but a sight of the 
 hearse ! But who'd have thought it ? Just as all was going on 
 right, through his own town they were passing, when the body 
 was seized for debt — a rescue was apprehended from the 
 mob ; but the heir, who attended the funeral, was against that, 
 for fear of consequences, seeing that those villains who came 
 to serve acted under the disguise of the law : so, to be sure, the 
 law must take its course, and little gain had the creditors for 
 their pains. First and foremost, they had the curses of the 
 country : and Sir Murtagh Rackrent, the new heir, in the next 
 place, on account of this affront to the body, refused to pay a 
 shilling of the debts, in which he was countenanced by all the 
 best gentlemen of property, and others of his acquaintance ; 
 Sir Murtagh alleging in all companies that he all along meant 
 to pay his father's debts of honour, but the moment the law 
 was taken of him, there was an end of honour to be sure. It 
 was whispered (but none but the enemies of the family believe 
 it) that this was all a sham seizAire to get quit of the debts 
 which he had bound himself to pay in honour. 
 
 It's a long time ago, there's no saying how it was, but this 
 
 for certain, the new man did not take at all after the old 
 
 gentleman ; the cellars were never filled after his death, and 
 
 no open house, or anything as it used to be ; the tenants 
 
 1 See Glossary. 
 
 4
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 even were sent away without their whisky. 1 I was ashamed 
 myself, and knew not what to say for the honour of the 
 family ; but I made the best of a bad case, and laid it all 
 at my lady's door, for I did not like her anyhow, nor anybody 
 else ; she was of the family of the Skinflints, and a widow ; 
 it was a strange match for Sir Murtagh ; the people in the 
 country thought he demeaned himself greatly, 2 but I said 
 nothing : I knew how it was. Sir Murtagh was a great 
 lawyer, and looked to the great Skinflint estate ; there, how- 
 ever, he overshot himself; for though one of the co-heiresses, 
 he was never the better for her, for she outlived him many's 
 the long day — he could not see that to be sure when he 
 married her. I must say for her, she made him the best 
 of wives, being a very notable, stirring woman, and looking 
 close to everything. But I always suspected she had Scotch 
 blood in her veins ; anything else I could have looked over 
 in her, from a regard to the family. She was a strict observer, 
 for self and servants, of Lent, and all fast -days, but not 
 holidays. One of the maids having fainted three times the 
 last day of Lent, to keep soul and body together, we put a 
 morsel of roast beef into her mouth, which came from Sir 
 Murtagh's dinner, who never fasted, not he ; but somehow 
 or other it unfortunately reached my lady's ears, and the 
 priest of the parish had a complaint made of it the next day, 
 and the poor girl was forced, as soon as she could walk, to 
 do penance for it, before she could get any peace or absolu- 
 tion, in the house or out of it. However, my lady was very 
 charitable in her own way. She had a charity school for 
 poor children, where they were taught to read and write 
 gratis, and where they were kept well to spinning gratis for 
 my lady in return ; for she had always heaps of duty yarn 
 from the tenants, and got all her household linen out of the 
 estate from first to last ; for after the spinning, the weavers 
 on the estate took it in hand for nothing, because of the 
 looms my lady's interest could get from the Linen Board to 
 distribute gratis. Then there was a bleach- yard near us, 
 and the tenant dare refuse my lady nothing, for fear of a 
 lawsuit Sir Murtagh kept hanging over him about the water- 
 course. With these ways of managing, 'tis surprising how 
 cheap my lady got things done, and how proud she was of 
 1 See Glossary. - Ibid. 
 
 5
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 it. Her table the same way, kept for next to nothing ; l 
 duty fowls, and duty turkeys, and duty geese, came as fast 
 as we could eat 'em, for my lady kept a sharp look-out, 
 and knew to a tub of butter everything the tenants had, all 
 round. They knew her way, and what with fear of driving 
 for rent and Sir Murtagh's lawsuits, they were kept in such 
 good order, they never thought of coming near Castle Rack- 
 rent without a present of something or other — nothing too 
 much or too little for my lady — eggs, honey, butter, meal, 
 fish, game, grouse, and herrings, fresh or salt, all went for 
 something. As for their young pigs, we had them, and the 
 best bacon and hams they could make up, with all young 
 chickens in spring ; but they were a set of poor wretches, 
 and we had nothing but misfortunes with them, always 
 breaking and running away. This, Sir Murtagh and my 
 lady said, was all their former landlord Sir Patrick's fault, 
 who let'em all get the half-year's rent into arrear ; there 
 was something in that to be sure. But Sir Murtagh was 
 as much the contrary way ; for let alone making English 
 tenants 2 of them, every soul, he was always driving and 
 driving, and pounding and pounding, and canting 3 and cant- 
 ing, and replevying and replevying, and he made a good 
 living of trespassing cattle ; there was always some tenant's 
 pig, or horse, or cow, or calf, or goose, trespassing, which 
 was so great a gain to Sir Murtagh, that he did not like 
 to hear me talk of repairing fences. Then his heriots 
 and duty-work 4 brought him in something, his turf was cut, 
 his potatoes set and dug, his hay brought home, and, in 
 short, all the work about his house done for nothing ; for 
 in all our leases there were strict clauses heavy with penalties, 
 which Sir Murtagh knew well how to enforce ; so many days' 
 duty- work of man and horse, from every tenant, he was to 
 have, and had, every year ; and when a man vexed him, 
 why, the finest day he could pitch on, when the cratur was 
 getting in his own harvest, or thatching his cabin, Sir Murtagh 
 made it a principle to call upon him and his horse ; so he taught 
 'em all, as he said, to know the law of landlord and tenant. 
 As for law, I believe no man, dead or alive, ever loved it 
 so well as Sir Murtagh. He had once sixteen suits pending 
 at a time, and I never saw him so much himself: roads, 
 1 See Glossary. - Ibid. 3 Ibid. 4 Ibid. 
 
 6
 
 CASTLE RACKREXT 
 
 lanes, bogs, wells, ponds, eel - wires, orchards, trees, tithes, 
 vagrants, gravelpits, sandpits, dunghills, and nuisances, every- 
 thing upon the face of the earth furnished him good matter 
 for a suit. He used to boast that he had a lawsuit for every 
 letter in the alphabet. How I used to wonder to see Sir 
 Murtagh in the midst of the papers in his office ! Why, he 
 could hardly turn about for them. I made bold to shrug my 
 shoulders once in his presence, and thanked my stars I was 
 not born a gentleman to so much toil and trouble ; but Sir 
 Murtagh took me up short with his old proverb, ' Learning 
 is better than house or land.' Out of forty-nine suits which 
 he had, he never lost one but seventeen ; l the rest he gained 
 with costs, double costs, treble costs sometimes ; but even 
 that did not pay. He was a very learned man in the law, 
 and had the character of it ; but how it was I can't tell, 
 these suits that he carried cost him a power of money : 
 in the end he sold some hundreds a year of the family 
 estate ; but he was a very learned man in the law, and I 
 know nothing of the matter, except having a great regard 
 for the family ; and I could not help grieving when he sent 
 me to post up notices of the sale of the fee simple of the 
 lands and appurtenances of Timoleague. 
 
 'I know, honest Thady,' says he, to comfort me, 'what 
 I'm about better than you do ; I'm only selling to get the 
 ready money wanting to carry on my suit with spirit with 
 the Nugents of Carrickashaughlin.' 
 
 He was very sanguine about that suit with the Nugents 
 of Carrickashaughlin. He could have gained it, they say, 
 for certain, had it pleased Heaven to have spared him to 
 us, and it would have been at the least a plump two thousand 
 a year in his way ; but things were ordered otherwise — for 
 the best to be sure. He dug up a fairy-mount - against my 
 
 1 See Glossary. 
 
 2 These fairy-mounts are called ant-hills in England. They are held 
 in high reverence by the common people in Ireland. A gentleman, who 
 in laying out his lawn had occasion to level one of these hillocks, could 
 not prevail upon any of his labourers to begin the ominous work. He 
 was obliged to take a lay from one of their reluctant hands, and began 
 the attack himself. The labourers agreed that the vengeance of the 
 fairies would fall upon the head of the presumptuous mortal who first 
 disturbed them in their retreat.* 
 
 See Glossary. 
 
 7
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 advice, and had no luck afterwards. Though a learned man 
 in the law, he was a little too incredulous in other matters. 
 I warned him that I heard the very Banshee l that my 
 grandfather heard under Sir Patrick's window a few days 
 before his death. But Sir Murtagh thought nothing of the 
 Banshee, nor of his cough, with a spitting of blood, brought 
 on, I understand, by catching cold in attending the courts, 
 and overstraining his chest with making himself heard in one 
 of his favourite causes. He was a great speaker with a 
 powerful voice ; but his last speech was not in the courts 
 at all. He and my lady, though both of the same way of 
 thinking in some things, and though she was as good a wife 
 and great economist as you could see, and he the best of 
 husbands, as to looking into his affairs, and making money 
 for his family ; yet I don't know how it was, they had a 
 great deal of sparring and jarring between them. My lady 
 had her privy purse ; and she had her weed ashes, 2 and her 
 sealing money 3 upon the signing of all the leases, with 
 something to buy gloves besides ; and, besides, again often 
 took money from the tenants, if offered properly, to speak 
 for them to Sir Murtagh about abatements and renewals. 
 Now the weed ashes and the glove money he allowed her 
 clear perquisites ; though once when he saw her in a new 
 gown saved out of the weed ashes, he told her to my face 
 (for he could say a sharp thing) that she should not put 
 on her weeds before her husband's death. But in a dispute 
 about an abatement my lady would have the last word, and 
 Sir Murtagh grew mad ; 4 I was within hearing of the door, 
 and now I wish I had made bold to step in. He spoke 
 so loud, the whole kitchen was out on the stairs. 5 All on 
 a sudden he stopped, and my lady too. Something has 
 surely happened, thought I ; and so it was, for Sir Murtagh 
 in his passion broke a blood - vessel, and all the law 
 in the land could do nothing in that case. My lady sent 
 
 1 The Banshee is a species of aristocratic fairy, who, in the shape 
 of a little hideous old woman, has been known to appear, and heard 
 to sing in a mournful supernatural voice under the windows of great 
 houses, to warn the family that some of them are soon to die. In 
 the last century every great family in Ireland had a Banshee, who attended 
 regularly ; but latterly their visits and songs have been discontinued. 
 
 2 See Glossary. s Ibid. 
 
 * Ibid. ° Ibid. 
 
 8
 
 CASTLE RACK RENT 
 
 for five physicians, but Sir Murtagfa died, and was buried. 
 She had a fine jointure settled upon her, and took herself 
 
 . 
 
 • J/t told Iu> to my /act that she should not put on her weeds before 
 her husband's death.' 
 
 Copyright 1894 by Uacmillan &• Co. 
 
 away, to the great joy of the tenantry. I never said any 
 thing one way or the other whilst she was part of the family, 
 but got up to see her go at three o'clock in the morning. 
 
 9
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 'It's a fine morning, honest Thady,' says she ; ' good-bye to 
 ye.' And into the carriage she stepped, without a word more, 
 good or bad, or even half-a-crown ; but I made my bow, and 
 stood to see her safe out of sight for the sake of the family. 
 
 Then we were all bustle in the house, which made me 
 keep out of the way, for I walk slow and hate a bustle ; but 
 the house was all hurry-skurry, preparing for my new master. 
 Sir Murtagh, I forgot to notice, had no childer ; x so the 
 Rackrent estate went to his younger brother, a young dashing 
 officer, who came amongst us before I knew for the life of me 
 whereabouts I was, in a gig or some of them things, with 
 another spark along with him, and led horses, and servants, 
 and dogs, and scarce a place to put any Christian of them 
 into ; for my late lady had sent all the feather-beds off before 
 her, and blankets and household linen, down to the very knife- 
 cloths, on the cars to Dublin, which were all her own, lawfully 
 paid for out of her own money. So the house was quite bare, 
 and my young master, the moment ever he set foot in it out 
 of his gig, thought all those things must come of themselves, 
 I believe, for he never looked after anything at all, but 
 harum-scarum called for everything as if we were conjurors, 
 or he in a public-house. For my part, I could not bestir 
 myself anyhow ; I had been so much used to my late 
 master and mistress, all was upside down with me, and the 
 new servants in the servants' hall were quite out of my way ; 
 I had nobody to talk to, and if it had not been for my pipe 
 and tobacco, should, I verily believe, have broke my heart for 
 poor Sir Murtagh. 
 
 But one morning my new master caught a glimpse of me 
 as I was looking at his horse's heels, in hopes of a word from 
 him. < And is that old Thady ? ' says he, as he got into his 
 gig : I loved him from that day to this, his voice was so like 
 the family ; and he threw me a guinea out of his waistcoat- 
 pocket, as he drew up the reins with the other hand, his horse 
 rearing too ; I thought I never set my eyes on a finer figure 
 of a man, quite another sort from Sir Murtagh, though withal, 
 to me, a family likeness. A fine life we should have led, had 
 he stayed amongst us, God bless him ! He valued a guinea 
 as little as any man : money to him was no more than dirt, 
 
 1 Childer: this is the manner in which many of Thady's rank, and 
 others in Ireland, formerly pronounced the word children.
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 and his gentleman and groom, and all belonging to him, the 
 same ; but the sporting season over, he grew tired of the 
 place, and having got down a great architect for the house, 
 and an improver for the grounds, and seen their plans and 
 elevations, he fixed a day for settling with the tenants, but 
 went off in a whirlwind to town, just as some of them came 
 into the yard in the morning. A circular letter came next 
 post from the new agent, with news that the master was sailed 
 for England, and he must remit £s°° to Bath for his use 
 before a fortnight was at an end ; bad news still for the poor 
 tenants, no change still for the better with them. Sir Kit 
 Rackrent, my young master, left all to the agent ; and though 
 he had the spirit of a prince, and lived away to the honour of 
 his country abroad, which I was proud to hear of, what were 
 wc the better for that at home ? The agent was one of your 
 middlemen, 1 who grind the face of the poor, and can never 
 bear a man with a hat upon his head : he ferreted the tenants 
 out of their lives ; not a week without a call for money, drafts 
 upon drafts from Sir Kit ; but I laid it all to the fault of the 
 agent ; for, says I, what can Sir Kit do with so much cash, 
 and he a single man ? But still it went. Rents must be all 
 paid up to the day, and afore ; no allowance for improving 
 tenants, no consideration for those who had built upon their 
 farms : no sooner was a lease out, but the land was advertised 
 
 1 Middlemen. — There was a class of men, termed middlemen, in 
 Ireland, who took large farms on long leases from gentlemen of landed 
 property, and let the land again in small portions to the poor, as under- 
 tenants, at exorbitant rents. The head landlord, as he was called, 
 seldom saw his under-tenants; but if he could not get the middleman to 
 pay him his rent punctually, he went to his la/nl, and drove the land for 
 his rent ; that is to say, he sent his steward, or bailiff, or driver, to the 
 land to seize the cattle, hay, corn, Hax, oats, or potatoes, belonging to 
 the under-tenants, and proceeded to sell these for his rents. It sometimes 
 happened that these unfortunate tenants paid their rent twice over, once 
 to the middleman, and once to the head landlord. 
 
 The characteristics of a middleman were servility to his superiors 
 and tyranny towards his inferiors : the poor detested this race of beings. 
 In speaking to them, however, they always used the most abject language, 
 and the most humble tone and posture — 'Please your honour; and 
 please your honour s honour,' they knew must be repeated as a charm at 
 the beginning and end of every equivocating, exculpatory, or supplicatory 
 sentence ; and they were much more alert in doffing their caps to those 
 new men than to those of what they call good old families. A witty 
 carpenter once termed these middlemen journeymen gentlemen.
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 to the highest bidder ; all the old tenants turned out, when 
 they spent their substance in the hope and trust of a renewal 
 from the landlord. All was now let at the highest penny to 
 a parcel of poor wretches, who meant to run away, and did 
 so, after taking two crops out of the ground. Then fining 
 down the year's rent came into fashion 1 — anything for the 
 ready penny ; and with all this and presents to the agent and 
 the driver, 2 there was no such thing as standing it. I said 
 nothing, for I had a regard for the family ; but I walked 
 about thinking if his honour Sir Kit knew all this, it would go 
 hard with him but he'd see us righted ; not that I had any- 
 thing for my own share to complain of, for the agent was 
 always very civil to me when he came down into the country, 
 and took a great deal of notice of my son Jason. Jason 
 Quirk, though he be my son, I must say was a good scholar 
 from his birth, and a very 'cute lad : I thought to make him 
 a priest, 3 but he did better for himself ; seeing how he was as 
 good a clerk as any in the county, the agent gave him his 
 rent accounts to copy, which he did first of all for the pleasure 
 of obliging the gentleman, and would take nothing at all for 
 his trouble, but was always proud to serve the family. By 
 and by a good farm bounding us to the east fell into his 
 honour's hands, and my son put in a proposal for it : why 
 shouldn't he, as well as another ? The proposals all went 
 over to the master at the Bath, who knowing no more of 
 the land than the child unborn, only having once been out 
 a-grousing on it before he went to England ; and the value 
 of lands, as the agent informed him, falling every year in 
 Ireland, his honour wrote over in all haste a bit of a letter, 
 saying he left it all to the agent, and that he must let it as 
 well as he could— to the best bidder, to be sure— and send 
 him over ^200 by return of post : with this the agent gave 
 me a hint, and I spoke a good word for my son, and gave 
 out in the country that nobody need bid against us. So his 
 proposal was just the thing, and he a good tenant : and he 
 got a promise of an abatement in the rent after the first 
 year, for advancing the half-year's rent at signing the lease, 
 which was wanting to complete the agent's .£200 by the 
 return of the post, with all which my master wrote back he 
 was well satisfied. About this time we learnt from the agent, 
 1 See Glossary. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid.
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 as a great secret, how the money went so fast, and the 
 reason of the thick coming of the master's drafts : he was 
 a little too fond of play ; and Bath, they say, was no place 
 for no young man of his fortune, where there were so many 
 of his own countrymen, too, hunting him up and down, day 
 and night, who had nothing to lose. At last, at Christmas, 
 the agent wrote over to stop the drafts, for he could raise 
 no more money on bond or mortgage, or from the tenants, 
 or anyhow, nor had he any more to lend himself, and desired 
 at the same time to decline the agency for the future, wishing 
 Sir Kit his health and happiness, and the compliments of 
 the season, for I saw the letter before ever it was sealed, 
 when my son copied it. When the answer came there was 
 a new turn in affairs, and the agent was turned out ; and 
 my son Jason, who had corresponded privately with his 
 honour occasionally on business, was forthwith desired by 
 his honour to take the accounts into his own hands, and 
 look them over, till further orders. It was a very spirited 
 letter to be sure : Sir Kit sent his service, and the compli- 
 ments of the season, in return to the agent, and he would 
 fight him with pleasure to-morrow, or any day, for sending 
 him such a letter, if he was born a gentleman, which he 
 was sorry (for both their sakes) to find (too late) he was not. 
 Then, in a private postscript, he condescended to tell us 
 that all would be speedily settled to his satisfaction, and we 
 should turn over a new leaf, for he was going to be married 
 in a fortnight to the grandest heiress in England, and had 
 only immediate occasion at present for ,£200, as he would 
 not choose to touch his lady's fortune for travelling expenses 
 home to Castle Rackrent, where he intended to be, wind and 
 weather permitting, early in the next month ; and desired 
 fires, and the house to be painted, and the new building to 
 go on as fast as possible, for the reception of him and his 
 lady before that time ; with several words besides in the 
 letter, which we could not make out because, God bless 
 him ! he wrote in such a flurry. My heart warmed to my 
 new lady when I read this : I was almost afraid it was too 
 good news to be true ; but the girls fell to scouring, and it 
 was well they did, for we soon saw his marriage in the 
 paper, to a lady with I don't know how many tens of 
 thousand pounds to her fortune : then I watched the post- 
 13
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 office for his landing ; and the news came to my son of 
 his and the bride being in Dublin, and on the way home 
 to Castle Rackrent. We had bonfires all over the country, 
 expecting him down the next day, and we had his coming of 
 age still to celebrate, which he had not time to do properly 
 before he left the country ; therefore, a great ball was ex- 
 pected, and great doings upon his coming, as it were, fresh 
 to take possession of his ancestors' estate. I never shall 
 forget the day he came home ; we had waited and waited 
 all day long till eleven o'clock at night, and I was thinking 
 of sending the boy to lock the gates, and giving them up 
 for that night, when there came the carriages thundering up 
 to the great hall door. I got the first sight of the bride ; 
 for when the carriage door opened, just as she had her 
 foot on the steps, I held the flam : full in her face to light 
 her, at which she shut her eyes, but I had a full view of 
 the rest of her, and greatly shocked I was, for by that light she 
 was little better than a blackamoor, and seemed crippled ; but 
 that was only sitting so long in the chariot. 
 
 ' You're kindly welcome to Castle Rackrent, my lady,' says 
 I (recollecting who she was). ' Did your honour hear of the 
 bonfires ? ' 
 
 His honour spoke never a word, nor so much as handed 
 her up the steps — he looked to me no more like himself than 
 nothing at all ; I know I took him for the skeleton of his 
 honour. I was not sure what to say next to one or t'other, 
 but seeing she was a stranger in a foreign country, I thought 
 it but right to speak cheerful to her ; so I went back again 
 to the bonfires. 
 
 ' My lady,' says I, as she crossed the hall, ' there would 
 have been fifty times as many ; but for fear of the horses, 
 and frightening your ladyship, Jason and I forbid them, 
 please your honour.' 
 
 With that she looked at me a little bewildered. 
 
 'Will I have a fire lighted in the state-room to-night?' 
 was the next question I put to her, but never a word she 
 answered ; so I concluded she could not speak a word of 
 English, and was from foreign parts. The short and the 
 long of it was, I couldn't tell what to make of her ; so I 
 left her to herself, and went straight down to the servants' 
 1 See Glossary. 
 14
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 hall to learn something for certain about her. Sir Kit's 
 own man was tired, but the groom set him a-talking at last, 
 and we had it all out before ever I closed my eyes that 
 night. The bride might well be a great fortune — she was 
 a Jewish by all accounts, who are famous for their great 
 riches. I had never seen any of that tribe or nation before, 
 and could only gather that she spoke a strange kind of 
 English of her own, that she could not abide pork or 
 sausages, and went neither to church or mass. Mercy upon 
 his honour's poor soul, thought I ; what will become of him 
 and his, and all of us, with his heretic blackamoor at the 
 head of the Castle Rackrent estate ? I never slept a wink 
 all night for thinking of it ; but before the servants I put 
 my pipe in my mouth, and kept my mind to myself, 
 for I had a great regard for the family ; and after this, 
 when strange gentlemen's servants came to the house, and 
 would begin to talk about the bride, I took care to put the 
 best foot foremost, and passed her for a nabob in the kitchen, 
 which accounted for her dark complexion and everything. 
 
 The very morning after they came home, however, I saw 
 plain enough how things were between Sir Kit and my lady, 
 though they were walking together arm in arm after breakfast, 
 looking at the new building and the improvements. 
 
 ' Old Thady,' said my master, just as he used to do, ' how 
 do you do ? ' 
 
 ' Very well, I thank your honour's honour,' said I ; but 
 I saw he was not well pleased, and my heart was in my 
 mouth as I walked along after him. 
 
 ' Is the large room damp, Thady ?' said his honour. 
 
 ' Oh damp, your honour ! how should it be but as dry 
 as a bone,' says I, 'after all the fires we have kept in it day 
 and night ? It's the barrack-room : your honour's talking on.' 
 
 ' And what is a barrack-room, pray, my dear ? ' were the 
 first words I ever heard out of my lady's lips. 
 
 ' No matter, my dear,' said he, and went on talking to me, 
 ashamed-like I should witness her ignorance. To be sure, 
 to hear her talk one might have taken her for an innocent, 2 
 for it was, ' What's this, Sir Kit ? and what's that, Sir Kit ? ' 
 all the way we went. To be sure, Sir Kit had enough to do 
 to answer her. 
 
 1 See Glossary. - Ibid. 
 
 15
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 'And what do you call that, Sir Kit?' said she; 'that — 
 that looks like a pile of black bricks, pray, Sir Kit ? ' 
 
 ' "Where are the trees" said she, "my dear?"—" You are blind, my dear" 
 says he ; " what are these under your eyes ? 
 Copyright 1S94 by Macmillan & Co. 
 
 ' My turf-stack, my dear,' said my master, and bit his lip. 
 Where have you lived, my lady, all your life, not to know 
 a turf-stack when you see it ? thought I ; but I said nothing. 
 
 16
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Then by and by she takes out her glass, and begins spying 
 over the country. 
 
 ' And what's all that black swamp out yonder, Sir Kit ? ' 
 says she. 
 
 1 My bog, my dear,' says he, and went on whistling. 
 
 ' It's a very ugly prospect, my dear,' says she. 
 
 'You don't see it. my dear,' says he, 'for we've planted it 
 cut ; when the trees grow up in summer-time ' says he. 
 
 ' Where are the trees,' said she, ' my dear ? ' still looking 
 through her glass. 
 
 ' You are blind, my dear,' says he ; ' what are these under 
 your eyes ? ' 
 
 ' These shrubs ? ' said she. 
 
 'Trees,' said he. 
 
 ' Maybe they are what you call trees in Ireland, my dear,' 
 said she • ' but they are not a yard high, are they ? ' 
 
 ' They were planted out but last year, my lady,' says I, to 
 soften matters between them, for I saw she was going the way 
 to make his honour mad with her : ' they are very well grown 
 for their age, and you'll not see the bog of Allyballycarrick- 
 o'shaughlin at-all-at-all through the skreen, when once the leaves 
 come out. But, my lady, you must not quarrel with any 
 part or parcel of Allyballycarricko'shaughlin, for you don't 
 know how many hundred years that same bit of bog has 
 been in the family ; we would not part with the bog of 
 Allyballycarricko'shaughlin upon no account at all ; it cost 
 the late Sir Murtagh two hundred good pounds to defend 
 his title to it and boundaries against the O'Learys, who cut 
 a road through it.' 
 
 Now one would have thought this would have been hint 
 enough for my lady, but she fell to laughing like one out of 
 their right mind, and made me say the name of the bog over, 
 for her to get it by heart, a dozen times ; then she must ask 
 me how to spell it, and what was the meaning of it in English 
 — Sir Kit standing by whistling all the while. I verily believed 
 she laid the corner-stone of all her future misfortunes at that 
 very instant ; but I said no more, only looked at Sir Kit. 
 
 There were no balls, no dinners, no doings ; the country 
 was all disappointed — Sir Kit's gentleman said in a whisper 
 to me, it was all my lady's own fault, because she was so 
 obstinate about the cross. 
 
 *7 C
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' What cross ? ' says I ; ' is it about her being a heretic ? ' 
 ' Oh, no such matter,' says he ; ' my master does not mind 
 her heresies, but her diamond cross — it's worth I can't tell you 
 how much, and she has thousands of English pounds con- 
 cealed in diamonds about her, which she as good as promised 
 to give up to my master before he married ; but now she won't 
 part with any of them, and she must take the consequences.' 
 Her honeymoon, at least her Irish honeymoon, was 
 
 ' Came down herself into the kitchen to speak to the cook ahout the sausages.' 
 
 scarcely well over, when his honour one morning said to me, 
 < Thady, buy me a pig ! ' and then the sausages were ordered, 
 and here was the first open breaking-out of my lady's troubles. 
 My lady came down herself into the kitchen to speak to the 
 cook about the sausages, and desired never to see them more 
 at her table. Now my master had ordered them, and my 
 lady knew that. The cook took my lady's part, because she 
 never came down into the kitchen, and was young and
 
 CASTLE RACKREXT 
 
 innocent in housekeeping, which raised her pity ; besides, 
 said she, at her own table, surely my lady should order and 
 disorder what she pleases. But the cook soon changed her 
 note, for my master made it a principle to have the sausages, 
 and swore at her for a jew herself, till he drove her fairly out 
 of the kitchen ; then, for fear of her place, and because he 
 threatened that my lady should give her no discharge without 
 the sausages, she gave up, and from that day forward always 
 sausages, or bacon, or pig-meat in some shape or other, went 
 up to table ; upon which my lady shut herself up in her own 
 room, and my master said she might stay there, with an oath : 
 and to make sure of her, he turned the key in the door, and 
 kept it ever after in his pocket. We none of us ever saw or 
 heard her speak for seven years after that : 1 he carried her 
 
 1 This part of the history of the Rackrent family can scarcely be 
 thought credible ; but in justice to honest Thady, it is hoped the reader 
 will recollect the history of the celebrated Lady Cathcart's conjugal im- 
 prisonment. The editor was acquainted with Colonel M'Guire, Lady 
 Cathcart's husband ; he has lately seen and questioned the maid-servant 
 who lived with Colonel M'Guire during the time of Lady Cathcart's im- 
 prisonment. Her ladyship was locked up in her own house for many 
 years, during which period her husband was visited by the neighbouring 
 gentry, and it was his regular custom at dinner to send his compliments 
 to Lady Cathcart, informing her that the company had the honour to 
 drink her ladyship's health, and begging to know whether there was any- 
 thing at table that she would like to eat? The answer was always, ' Lady 
 Cathcart's compliments, and she has everything she wants.' An instance 
 of honesty in a poor Irishwoman deserves to be recorded. Lady 
 Cathcart had some remarkably fine diamonds, which she had concealed 
 from her husband, and which she was anxious to get out of the house, 
 leit he should discover them. She had neither servant nor friend to 
 whom she could entrust them, but she had observed a poor beggar 
 woman, who used to come to the house ; she spoke to her from the 
 window of the room in which she was confined ; the woman promised to 
 do what she desired, and Lady Cathcart threw a parcel containing the 
 jewels to her. The poor woman carried them to the person to whom 
 they were directed, and several years afterwards, when Lady Cathcart 
 recovered her liberty, she received her diamonds safely. 
 
 At Colonel M'Guire's death her ladyship was released. The editor, 
 within this year, saw the gentleman who accompanied her to England 
 after her husband's death. When she first was told of his death she 
 imagined that the news was not true, and that it was told only with an 
 intention of deceiving her. At his death she had scarcely clothes sufficient 
 to cover her ; she wore a red wig, looked scared, and her understanding 
 seemed stupefied ; she said that she scarcely knew one human creature 
 from another ; her imprisonment lasted above twenty years. These 
 
 19
 
 CASTLE RACK RENT 
 
 dinner himself. Then his honour had a great deal of 
 company to dine with him, and balls in the house, and was 
 as gay and gallant, and as much himself as before he was 
 married ; and at dinner he always drank my Lady Rackrent's 
 good health and so did the company, and he sent out always 
 a servant with his compliments to my Lady Rackrent, and 
 the company was drinking her ladyship's health, and begged 
 to know if there was anything at table he might send her, 
 and the man came back, after the sham errand, with my Lady 
 Rackrent's compliments, and she was very much obliged to 
 Sir Kit — she did not wish for anything, but drank the 
 company's health. The country, to be sure, talked and 
 wondered at my lady's being shut up, but nobody chose to 
 interfere or ask any impertinent questions, for they knew my 
 master was a man very apt to give a short answer himself, 
 and likely to call a man out for it afterwards : he was a famous 
 shot, had killed his man before he came of age, and nobody 
 scarce dared look at him whilst at Bath. Sir Kit's character 
 was so well known in the country that he lived in peace and 
 quietness ever after, and was a great favourite with the ladies, 
 especially when in process of time, in the fifth year of her 
 confinement, my Lady Rackrent fell ill and took entirely to 
 her bed, and he gave out that she was now skin and bone, 
 and could not last through the winter. In this he had two 
 physicians' opinions to back him (for now he called in two 
 physicians for her), and tried all his arts to get the 
 diamond cross from her on her death-bed, and to get her 
 to make a will in his favour of her separate possessions ; but 
 there she was too tough for him. He used to swear at her 
 behind her back after kneeling to her face, and call her 
 in the presence of his gentleman his stiff-necked Israelite, 
 though before he married her that same gentleman told me 
 he used to call her (how he could bring it out, I don't know) 
 ' my pretty Jessica ! ' To be sure it must have been hard for 
 her to guess what sort of a husband he reckoned to make her. 
 When she was lying, to all expectation, on her death-bed of a 
 
 circumstances may appear strange to an English reader ; but there is 
 no danger in the present times that any individual should exercise such 
 tyranny as Colonel M 'Quire's with impunity, the power being now all in 
 the hands of Government, and there being no possibility of obtaining from 
 Parliament an Act of indemnity for any cruelties. 
 
 20
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 broken heart, I could not but pity her, though she was a 
 Jewish, and considering too it was no fault of hers to be 
 taken with my master, so young as she was at the Bath, 
 and so fine a gentleman as Sir Kit was when he courted her ; 
 and considering too, after all they had heard and seen of him 
 as a husband, there were now no less than three ladies in our 
 county talked of for his second wife, all at daggers drawn with 
 each other, as his gentleman swore, at the balls, for Sir Kit 
 for their partner — I could not but think them bewitched, but 
 they all reasoned with themselves that Sir Kit would make a 
 good husband to any Christian but a Jewish, I suppose, and 
 especially as he was now a reformed rake ; and it was not 
 known how my lady's fortune was settled in her will, nor how 
 the Castle Rackrent estate was all mortgaged, and bonds 
 out against him, for he was never cured of his gaming 
 tricks ; but that was the only fault he had, God bless him ! 
 
 My lady had a sort of fit, and it was given out that she 
 was dead, by mistake : this brought things to a sad crisis for 
 my poor master. One of the three ladies showed his letters to 
 her brother, and claimed his promises, whilst another did the 
 same. I don't mention names. Sir Kit, in his defence, said he 
 would meet any man who dared to question his conduct ; and 
 as to the ladies, they must settle it amongst them who was to be 
 his second, and his third, and his fourth, whilst his first was 
 still alive, to his mortification and theirs. Upon this, as upon 
 all former occasions, he had the voice of the country with him, 
 on account of the great spirit and propriety he acted with. 
 He met and shot the first lady's brother : the next day he 
 called out the second, who had a wooden leg, and their place 
 of meeting by appointment being in a new-ploughed field, the 
 wooden-leg man stuck fast in it. Sir Kit, seeing his situation, 
 with great candour fired his pistol over his head ; upon which 
 the seconds interposed, and convinced the parties there had 
 been a slight misunderstanding between them : thereupon they 
 shook hands cordially, and went home to dinner together. 
 This gentleman, to show the world how they stood together, 
 and by the advice of the friends of both parties, to re-establish 
 his sister's injured reputation, went out with Sir Kit as his 
 second, and carried his message next day to the last of his 
 adversaries : I never saw him in such fine spirits as that day 
 he went out — sure enough he was within ames-ace of getting 
 
 21
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 quit handsomely of all his enemies ; but unluckily, after hitting 
 the toothpick out of his adversary's finger and thumb, he 
 received a ball in a vital part, and was brought home, in little 
 better than an hour after the affair, speechless on a hand- 
 barrow to my lady. We got the key out of his pocket the 
 first thing we did, and my son Jason ran to unlock the barrack- 
 room, where my lady had been shut up for seven years, to 
 acquaint her with the fatal accident. The surprise bereaved 
 her of her senses at first, nor would she believe but we were 
 putting some new trick upon her, to entrap her out of her 
 jewels, for a great while, till Jason bethought himself of taking 
 her to the window, and showed her the men bringing Sir Kit 
 up the avenue upon the hand-barrow, which had immediately 
 the desired effect ; for directly she burst into tears, and pulling 
 her cross from her bosom, she kissed it with as great devotion 
 as ever I witnessed, and lifting up her eyes to heaven, uttered 
 some ejaculation, which none present heard ; but I take the 
 sense of it to be, she returned thanks for this unexpected 
 interposition in her favour when she had least reason to 
 expect it. My master was greatly lamented : there was no 
 life in him when we lifted him off the barrow, so he was laid 
 out immediately, and ' waked ' the same night. The country 
 was all in an uproar about him, and not a soul but cried shame 
 upon his murderer, who would have been hanged surely, if 
 he could have been brought to his trial, whilst the gentlemen 
 in the country were up about it ; but he very prudently with- 
 drew himself to the Continent before the affair was made public. 
 As for the young lady who was the immediate cause of the 
 fatal accident, however innocently, she could never show her 
 head after at the balls in the county or any place ; and by the 
 advice of her friends and physicians, she was ordered soon 
 after to Bath, where it was expected, if anywhere on this side 
 of the grave, she would meet with the recovery of her health 
 and lost peace of mind. As a proof of his great popularity, 
 I need only add that there was a song made upon my master's 
 untimely death in the newspapers, which was in everybody's 
 mouth, singing up and down through the country, even down 
 to the mountains, only three days after his unhappy exit. He 
 was also greatly bemoaned at the Curragh, 1 where his cattle 
 were well known ; and all who had taken up his bets were 
 1 See Glossary. 
 22
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 particularly inconsolable for his loss to society. His stud sold 
 at the cant l at the greatest price ever known in the county ; 
 his favourite horses were chiefly disposed of amongst his par- 
 ticular friends, who would give any price for them for his sake ; 
 but no ready money was required by the new heir, who wished 
 not to displease any of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood just 
 upon his coming to settle amongst them ; so a long credit was 
 given where requisite, and the cash has never been gathered in 
 from that day to this. 
 
 But to return to my lady. She got surprisingly well after 
 my master's decease. No sooner was it known for certain that 
 he was dead, than all the gentlemen within twenty miles of us 
 came in a body, as it were, to set my lady at liberty, and to 
 protest against her confinement, which they now for the first 
 time understood was against her own consent. The ladies too 
 were as attentive as possible, striving who should be foremost 
 with their morning visits ; and they that saw the diamonds 
 spoke very handsomely of them, but thought it a pity they 
 were not bestowed, if it had so pleased God, upon a lady 
 who would have become them better. All these civilities 
 wrought little with my lady, for she had taken an unaccount- 
 able prejudice against the country, and everything belonging 
 to it, and was so partial to her native land, that after parting 
 with the cook, which she did immediately upon my master's 
 decease, I never knew her easy one instant, night or day, but 
 when she was packing up to leave us. Had she meant to 
 make any stay in Ireland, I stood a great chance of being a 
 great favourite with her ; for when she found I understood 
 the weathercock, she was always finding some pretence to be 
 talking to me, and asking me which way the wind blew, and 
 was it likely, did I think, to continue fair for England. But 
 when I saw she had made up her mind to spend the rest of her 
 days upon her own income and jewels in England, I considered 
 her quite as a foreigner, and not at all any longer as part of 
 the family. She gave no vails to the servants at Castle Rack- 
 rent at parting, notwithstanding the old proverb of ' as rich as 
 a Jew,' which she, being a Jewish, they built upon with reason. 
 But from first to last she brought nothing but misfortunes 
 amongst us ; and if it had not been all along with her, his 
 honour, Sir Kit, would have been now alive in all appearance. 
 1 See Glossary. 
 23
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Her diamond cross was, they say, at the bottom of it all ; and 
 it was a shame for her, being his wife, not to show more duty, 
 and to have given it up when he condescended to ask so often 
 for such a bit of a trifle in his distresses, especially when he 
 all along made it no secret he married for money. But we 
 will not bestow another thought upon her. This much I 
 thought it lay upon my conscience to say, in justice to my 
 poor master's memory. 
 
 'Tis an ill wind that blows nobody no good : the same wind 
 that took the Jew Lady Rackrent over to England brought 
 over the new heir to Castle Rackrent. 
 
 Here let me pause for breath in my story, for though I had 
 a great regard for every member of the family, yet without 
 compare Sir Conolly, commonly called, for short, amongst his 
 friends, Sir Condy Rackrent, was ever my great favourite, and, 
 indeed, the most universally beloved man I had ever seen or 
 heard of, not excepting his great ancestor Sir Patrick, to whose 
 memory he, amongst other instances of generosity, erected a 
 handsome marble stone in the church of Castle Rackrent, 
 setting forth in large letters his age, birth, parentage, and 
 many other virtues, concluding with the compliment so justly 
 due, that ' Sir Patrick Rackrent lived and died a monument 
 of old Irish hospitality.' 
 
 24
 
 CONTINUATION OF THE MEMOIRS 
 
 RACKRENT FAMILY 
 
 HISTORY OF SIR CONOLLY RACKRENT 
 
 Sir CONDY RACKRENT, by the grace of God heir-at-law to 
 the Castle Rackrent estate, was a remote branch of the 
 family. Born to little or no fortune of his own, he was bred 
 to the bar, at which, having many friends to push him and 
 no mean natural abilities of his own, he doubtless would in 
 process of time, if he could have borne the drudgery of that 
 study, have been rapidly made King's Counsel at the least ; 
 but things were disposed of otherwise, and he never went the 
 circuit but twice, and then made no figure for want of a 
 fee, and being unable to speak in public. He received his 
 education chiefly in the college of Dublin, but before he 
 came to years of discretion lived in the country, in a small 
 but slated house within view of the end of the avenue. I 
 remember him, bare footed and headed, running through the 
 street of O'Shaughlin's Town, and playing at pitch-and-toss, 
 ball, marbles, and what not, with the boys of the town, 
 amongst whom my son Jason was a great favourite with him. 
 As for me, he was ever my white-headed boy : often's the 
 time, when I would call in at his father's, where I was always 
 made welcome, he would slip down to me in the kitchen, and, 
 love to sit on my knee whilst I told him stories of the family 
 and the blood from which he was sprung, and how he might 
 look forward, if the then present man should die without 
 childer, to being at the head of the Castle Rackrent estate. 
 
 2 5
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 This was then spoke quite and clear at random to please the 
 child, but it pleased Heaven to accomplish my prophecy 
 
 \ p8L if- 
 
 ' Love to sit on my knee whilst I told him stories.' 
 
 afterwards, which gave him a great opinion of my judgment 
 in business. He went to a little grammar-school with many 
 others, and my son amongst the rest, who was in his class, 
 and not a little useful to him in his book-learning, which he 
 
 26
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 acknowledged with gratitude ever after. These rudiments of 
 his education thus completed, he got a-horseback, to which 
 exercise he was ever addicted, and used to gallop over the 
 country while yet but a slip of a boy, under the care of Sir 
 Kit's huntsman, who was very fond of him, and often lent him 
 his gun, and took him out a-shooting under his own eye. By 
 these means he became well acquainted and popular amongst 
 the poor in the neighbourhood early, for there was not a 
 cabin at which he had not stopped some morning or other, 
 along with the huntsman, to drink a glass of burnt whisky 
 out of an eggshell, to do him good and warm his heart and 
 drive the cold out of his stomach. The old people always 
 told him he was a great likeness of Sir Patrick, which made 
 him first have an ambition to take after him, as far as his 
 fortune should allow. He left us when of an age to enter the 
 college, and there completed his education and nineteenth 
 year, for as he was not born to an estate, his friends thought 
 it incumbent on them to give him the best education which 
 could be had for love or money, and a great deal of money 
 consequently was spent upon him at College and Temple. He 
 was a very little altered for the worse by what he saw there 
 of the great world, for when he came down into the country 
 to pay us a visit, we thought him just the same man as ever — 
 hand and glove with every one, and as far from high, though 
 not without his own proper share of family pride, as any man 
 ever you see. Latterly, seeing how Sir Kit and the Jewish 
 lived together, and that there was no one between him and 
 the Castle Rackrent estate, he neglected to apply to the law 
 as much as was expected of him, and secretly many of the 
 tenants and others advanced him cash upon his note of 
 hand value received, promising bargains of leases and lawful 
 interest, should he ever come into the estate. All this was 
 kept a great secret for fear the present man, hearing of it, 
 should take it into his head to take it ill of poor Condy, and 
 so should cut him off for ever by levying a fine, and suffering 
 a recovery to dock the entail. 1 Sir Murtagh would have 
 been the man for that ; but Sir Kit was too much taken up 
 philandering to consider the law in this case, or any other. 
 These practices I have mentioned to account for the state of 
 his affairs — I mean Sir Condy's upon his coming into the 
 1 See Glossary. 
 27
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Castle Rackrent estate. He could not command a penny of 
 his first year's income, which, and keeping no accounts, and 
 the great sight of company he did, with many other causes 
 too numerous to mention, was the origin of his distresses. 
 My son Jason, who was now established agent, and knew 
 everything, explained matters out of the face to Sir Conolly, 
 and made him sensible of his embarrassed situation. With 
 a great nominal rent-roll, it was almost all paid away in 
 interest ; which being for convenience suffered to run on, 
 soon doubled the principal, and Sir Condy was obliged to 
 pass new bonds for the interest, now grown principal, and so 
 on. Whilst this was going on, my son requiring to be paid 
 for his trouble and many years 5 service in the family gratis, 
 and Sir Condy not willing to take his affairs into his own 
 hands, or to look them even in the face, he gave my son a 
 bargain of some acres which fell out of lease at a reasonable 
 rent. Jason set the land, as soon as his lease was sealed, to 
 under-tenants, to make the rent, and got two hundred a year 
 profit rent ; which was little enough considering his long 
 agency. He bought the land at twelve years' purchase two 
 years afterwards, when Sir Condy was pushed for money on 
 an execution, and was at the same time allowed for his 
 improvements thereon. There was a sort of hunting-lodge 
 upon the estate, convenient to my son Jason's land, which he 
 had his eye upon about this time ; and he was a little jealous 
 of Sir Condy, who talked of setting it to a stranger who was 
 just come into the country — Captain Moneygawl was the man. 
 He was son and heir to the Moneygawls of Mount Juliet's 
 Town, who had a great estate in the next county to ours ; and 
 my master was loth to disoblige the young gentleman, whose 
 heart was set upon the Lodge ; so he wrote him back that the 
 Lodge was at his service, and if he would honour him with his 
 company at Castle Rackrent, they could ride over together 
 some morning and look at it before signing the lease. 
 Accordingly, the captain came over to us, and he and Sir 
 Condy grew the greatest friends ever you see, and were for 
 ever out a-shooting or hunting together, and were very merry 
 in the evenings ; and Sir Condy was invited of course to 
 Mount Juliet's Town ; and the family intimacy that had been 
 in Sir Patrick's time was now recollected, and nothing would 
 serve Sir Condy but he must be three times a week at the 
 
 28
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 least with his new friends, which grieved me, who knew, by 
 the captain's groom and gentleman, how they talked of him 
 at Mount Juliet's Town, making him quite, as one may say, 
 a laughing-stock and a butt for the whole company ; but 
 they were soon cured of that by an accident that surprised 
 'em not a little, as it did me. There was a bit of a scrawl 
 found upon the waiting-maid of old Mr. Moneygawl's youngest 
 daughter, Miss Isabella, that laid open the whole ; and her 
 father, they say, was like one out of his right mind, and 
 swore it was the last thing he ever should have thought of, 
 when he invited my master to his house, that his daughter 
 should think of such a match. But their talk signified not 
 a straw, for as Miss Isabella's maid reported, her young 
 mistress was fallen over head and ears in love with Sir 
 Condy from the first time that ever her brother brought him 
 into the house to dinner. The servant who waited that day 
 behind my master's chair was the first who knew it, as he 
 says ; though it's hard to believe him, for he did not tell it 
 till a great while afterwards ; but, however, it's likely enough, 
 as the thing turned out, that he was not far out of the way, 
 for towards the middle of dinner, as he says, they were 
 talking of stage-plays, having a playhouse, and being great 
 play-actors at Mount Juliet's Town ; and Miss Isabella turns 
 short to my master, and says : 
 
 ' Have you seen the play-bill, Sir Condy ? ' 
 
 ' No, I have not,' said he. 
 
 ' Then more shame for you,' said the captain her brother, 
 'not to know that my sister is to play Juliet to-night, who 
 plays it better than any woman on or off the stage in all 
 Ireland.' 
 
 ' I am very happy to hear it,' said Sir Condy ; and there 
 the matter dropped for the present. 
 
 But Sir Condy all this time, and a great while afterwards, 
 was at a terrible nonplus ; for he had no liking, not he, to stage- 
 plays, nor to Miss Isabella either — to his mind, as it came out 
 over a bowl of whisky-punch at home, his little Judy M 'Quirk, 
 who was daughter to a sister's son of mine, was worth twenty of 
 Miss Isabella. He had seen her often when he stopped at her 
 father's cabin to drink whisky out of the eggshell, out hunting, 
 before he came to the estate, and, as she gave out, was under 
 something like a promise of marriage to her. Anyhow, I could 
 
 29
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 not but pity my poor master, who was so bothered between 
 them, and he an easy-hearted man, that could not disoblige 
 nobody — God bless him ! To be sure, it was not his place to 
 behave ungenerous to Miss Isabella, who had disobliged all 
 her relations for his sake, as he remarked ; and then she was 
 locked up in her chamber, and forbid to think of him any 
 more, which raised his spirit, because his family was, as he 
 observed, as good as theirs at any rate, and the Rackrents a 
 suitable match for the Moneygawls any day in the year ; all 
 which was true enough. But it grieved me to see that, upon 
 the strength of all this, Sir Condy was growing more in the 
 mind to carry off Miss Isabella to Scotland, in spite of her 
 relations, as she desired. 
 
 ' It's all over with our poor Judy ! ' said I, with a heavy 
 sigh, making bold to speak to him one night when he was a 
 little cheerful, and standing in the servants' hall all alone with 
 me, as was often his custom. 
 
 ' Not at all,' said he ; 'I never was fonder of Judy than at 
 this present speaking ; and to prove it to you,' said he — and 
 he took from my hand a halfpenny change that I had just 
 got along with my tobacco — ' and to prove it to you, Thady,' 
 says he, ' it's a toss-up with me which I should marry this 
 minute, her or Mr. Moneygawl of Mount Juliet's Town's 
 daughter — so it is.' 
 
 ' Oh — boo ! boo ! ' 1 says I, making light of it, to see what 
 he would go on to next ; ' your honour's joking, to be sure ; 
 there's no compare between our poor Judy and Miss Isabella, 
 who has a great fortune, they say.' 
 
 ' I'm not a man to mind a fortune, nor never was,' said 
 Sir Condy, proudly, ' whatever her friends may say ; and to 
 make short of it,' says he, ' I'm come to a determination 
 upon the spot.' With that he swore such a terrible oath as 
 made me cross myself. ' And by this book,' said he, snatching 
 up my ballad-book, mistaking it for my prayer-book, which 
 lay in the window, — ' and by this book,' says he, ' and by all 
 the books that ever were shut and opened, it's come to a toss- 
 up with me, and I'll stand or fall by the toss ; and so Thady, 
 hand me over that pin 2 out of the ink-horn ; ' and he makes a 
 
 1 Boo! boo! — an exclamation equivalent to pshaw or ?ionsense. 
 
 2 Pin, read pen. — It formerly was vulgarly pronounced pin in Ireland. 
 
 30
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 cross on the smooth side of the halfpenny; 'Judy M'Quirk,' 
 says he, ' her mark.' l 
 
 God bless him ! his hand was a little unsteadied by all the 
 whisky-punch he had taken, but it was plain to see his heart 
 was for poor Judy. My heart was all as one as in my mouth 
 when I saw the halfpenny up in the air, but I said nothing at 
 all ; and when it came down I was glad I had kept myself to 
 myself, for to be sure now it was all over with poor Judy. 
 
 'Judy's out a luck,' said I, striving to laugh. 
 
 ' I'm out a luck,' said he ; and I never saw a man look so 
 cast down : he took up the halfpenny off the flag, and walked 
 away quite sober-like by the shock. Now, though as easy a 
 man, you would think, as any in the wide world, there was no 
 such thing as making him unsay one of these sort of vows, 2 
 which he had learned to reverence when young, as I well re- 
 member teaching him to toss up for bog-berries on my knee. 
 So I saw the affair was as good as settled between him and 
 Miss Isabella, and I had no more to say but to wish her joy, 
 which I did the week afterwards, upon her return from Scotland 
 with my poor master. 
 
 My new lady was young, as might be supposed of a lady 
 that had been carried off by her own consent to Scotland ; 
 but I could only see her at first through her veil, which, from 
 bashfulness or fashion, she kept over her face. 
 
 1 Her mark. — It was the custom in Ireland for those who could not 
 write to make a cross to stand for their signature, as was formerly the 
 practice of our English monarchs. The Editor inserts the facsimile 
 of an Irish mark, which may hereafter be valuable to a judicious 
 antiquary — 
 
 Her 
 Judy X M'Quirk, 
 Mark 
 In bonds or notes signed in this manner a witness is requisite, as the 
 name is frequently written by him or her. 
 
 - lows. — It has been maliciously and unjustly hinted that the lower 
 classes of the people of Ireland pay but little regard to oaths ; yet it is 
 certain that some oaths or vows have great power over their minds. 
 Sometimes they swear they will be revenged on some of their neighbours ; 
 this is an oath that they are never known to break. But, what is infinitely 
 more extraordinary and unaccountable, they sometimes make and keep 
 a vow against whisky ; these vows are usually limited to a short time. 
 A woman who has a drunken husband is most fortunate if she can prevail 
 upon him to go to the priest, and make a vow against whisky for a year, 
 or a month, or a week, or a day. 
 
 31
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 'And am I to walk through all this crowd of people, my 
 dearest love ? ' said she to Sir Condy, meaning us servants and 
 tenants, who had gathered at the back gate. 
 
 " Fm out a luck" said lie.' 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan &■ Co. 
 
 'My dear,' said Sir Condy, 'there's nothing for it but to 
 walk, or to let me carry you as far as the house, for you see 
 the back road is too narrow for a carriage, and the great piers 
 
 32
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 have tumbled down across the front approach ; so there's no 
 driving the right way, by reason of the ruins.' 
 
 ' Plato, thou reasonest well ! ' said she, or words to that 
 effect, which I could noways understand ; and again, when 
 her foot stumbled against a broken bit of a car-wheel, she 
 cried out, 'Angels and ministers of grace defend us!' 
 Well, thought I, to be sure, if she's no Jewish, like the last, 
 she is a mad woman for certain, which is as bad : it would 
 have been as well for my poor master to have taken up with 
 poor Judy, who is in her right mind anyhow. 
 
 She was dressed like a mad woman, moreover, more than 
 like any one I ever saw afore or since, and I could not take 
 my eyes off her, but still followed behind her ; and her feathers 
 on the top of her hat were broke going in at the low back door, 
 and she pulled out her little bottle out of her pocket to smell 
 when she found herself in the kitchen, and said, ' I shall faint 
 with the heat of this odious, odious place.' 
 
 ' My dear, it's only three steps across the kitchen, and 
 there's a fine air if your veil was up,' said Sir Condy ; and 
 with that threw back her veil, so that I had then a full sight 
 of her face. She had not at all the colour of one going to 
 faint, but a fine complexion of her own, as I then took it to 
 be, though her maid told me after it was all put on ; but even, 
 complexion and all taken in, she was no way, in point of good 
 looks, to compare to poor Judy, and withal she had a quality 
 toss with her ; but maybe it was my over-partiality to Judy, 
 into whose place I may say she stepped, that made me notice 
 all this. 
 
 To do her justice, however, she was, when we came to know 
 her better, very liberal in her housekeeping — nothing at all of 
 the skinflint in her ; she left everything to the housekeeper, 
 and her own maid, Mrs. Jane, who went with her to Scotland, 
 gave her the best of characters for generosity. She seldom or 
 ever wore a thing twice the same way, Mrs. Jane told us, and 
 was always pulling her things to pieces and giving them away, 
 never being used, in her father's house, to think of expense in 
 anything ; and she reckoned to be sure to go on the same 
 way at Castle Rackrent ; but when I came to inquire, I 
 learned that her father was so mad with her for running off, 
 after his locking her up and forbidding her to think any more 
 of Sir Condy, that he would not give her a farthing ; and it 
 
 33 D
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 was lucky for her she had a few thousands of her own, which 
 had been left to her by a good grandmother, and these were 
 very convenient to begin with. My master and my lady set 
 out in great style ; they had the finest coach and chariot, and 
 horses and liveries, and cut the greatest dash in the county, 
 returning their wedding visits ; and it was immediately re- 
 ported that her father had undertaken to pay all my master's 
 debts, and of course all his tradesmen gave him a new credit, 
 and everything went on smack smooth, and I could not but 
 admire my lady's spirit, and was proud to see Castle Rack- 
 rent again in all its glory. My lady had a fine taste for build- 
 ing, and furniture, and playhouses, and she turned everything 
 topsy-turvy, and made the barrack-room into a theatre, as she 
 called it, and she went on as if she had a mint of money at 
 her elbow ; and to be sure I thought she knew best, 
 especially as Sir Condy said nothing to it one way or the other. 
 All he asked — God bless him ! — was to live in peace and quiet- 
 ness, and have his bottle or his whisky-punch at night to him- 
 self. Now this was little enough, to be sure, for any gentle- 
 man ; but my lady couldn't abide the smell of the whisky-punch. 
 
 4 My dear,' says he, ' you liked it well enough before we 
 were married, and why not now ?' 
 
 ' My dear,' said she, ' I never smelt it, or I assure you I 
 should never have prevailed upon myself to marry you.' 
 
 ' My dear, I am sorry you did not smell it, but we can't 
 help that now,' returned my master, without putting himself 
 in a passion, or going out of his way, but just fair and easy 
 helped himself to another glass, and drank it off to her good 
 health. 
 
 All this the butler told me, who was going backwards and 
 forwards unnoticed with the jug, and hot water, and sugar, 
 and all he thought wanting. Upon my master's swallowing 
 the last glass of whisky-punch my lady burst into tears, calling 
 him an ungrateful, base, barbarous wretch ; and went off into 
 a fit of hysterics, as I think Mrs. Jane called it, and my poor 
 master was greatly frightened, this being the first thing of the 
 kind he had seen ; and he fell straight on his knees before 
 her, and, like a good-hearted cratur as he was, ordered the 
 whisky-punch out of the room, and bid 'em throw open all the 
 windows, and cursed himself : and then my lady came to 
 herself again, and when she saw him kneeling there, bid him 
 
 34
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 get up, and not forswear himself any more, for that she was 
 sure he did not love her, and never had. This we learned 
 from Mrs. Jane, who was the only person left present at all 
 this. 
 
 ' My dear,' returns my master, thinking, to be sure, of Judy, 
 as well he might, ' whoever told you so is an incendiary, and 
 I'll have 'em turned out of the house this minute, if you'll 
 only let me know which of them it was.' 
 
 ' Told me what ? ' said my lady, starting upright in her 
 chair. 
 
 • Nothing at all, nothing at all,' said my master, seeing he 
 had overshot himself, and that my lady spoke at random ; ' but 
 what you said just now, that I did not love you, Bella ; who 
 told you that ?' 
 
 ' My own sense,' she said, and she put her handkerchief 
 to her face, and leant back upon Mrs. Jane, and fell to sobbing 
 as if her heart would break. 
 
 ' Why now, Bella, this is very strange of you,' said my 
 poor master ; ' if nobody has told you nothing, what is it you 
 are taking on for at this rate, and exposing yourself and me 
 for this way ?' 
 
 ' Oh, say no more, say no more ; every word you say kills 
 me,' cried my lady ; and she ran on like one, as Mrs. Jane 
 says, raving, ' Oh, Sir Condy, Sir Condy ! I that had hoped 
 to find in you ' 
 
 ' Why now, faith, this is a little too much ; do, Bella, try 
 to recollect yourself, my dear ; am not I your husband, and 
 of your own choosing, and is not that enough ?' 
 
 ' Oh, too much ! too much !' cried my lady, wringing her 
 hands. 
 
 ' Why, my dear, come to your right senses, for the love 
 of heaven. See, is not the whisky-punch, jug and bowl and 
 all, gone out of the room long ago ? What is it, in the wide 
 world, you have to complain of?' 
 
 But still my lady sobbed and sobbed, and called herself the 
 most wretched of women ; and among other out-of-the-way pro- 
 voking things, asked my master, was he fit company for her, and 
 he drinking all night ? This nettling him, which it was hard to 
 do, he replied, that as to drinking all night, he was then as sober 
 as she was herself, and that it was no matter how much a man 
 drank, provided it did noways affect or stagger him : that as 
 
 35
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 to being fit company for her, he thought himself of a family to 
 be fit company for any lord or lady in the land ; but that he 
 never prevented her from seeing and keeping what company 
 she pleased, and that he had done his best to make Castle 
 Rackrent pleasing to her since her marriage, having always 
 had the house full of visitors, and if her own relations were 
 not amongst them, he said that was their own fault, and their 
 pride's fault, of which he was sorry to find her ladyship 
 had so unbecoming a share. So concluding, he took his 
 candle and walked off to his room, and my lady was in 
 her tantarums for three days after ; and would have been 
 so much longer, no doubt, but some of her friends, young 
 ladies, and cousins, and second cousins, came to Castle Rack- 
 rent, by my poor master's express invitation, to see her, and 
 she was in a hurry to get up, as Mrs. Jane called it, a play 
 for them, and so got well, and was as finely dressed, 
 and as happy to look at, as ever ; and all the young 
 ladies, who used to be in her room dressing of her, said in 
 Mrs. Jane's hearing that my lady was the happiest bride ever 
 they had seen, and that to be sure a love-match was the only 
 thing for happiness, where the parties could any way afford it. 
 As to affording it, God knows it was little they knew of the 
 matter ; my lady's few thousands could not last for ever, 
 especially the way she went on with them ; and letters from 
 tradesfolk came every post thick and threefold, with bills as 
 long as my arm, of years' and years' standing. My son Jason 
 had 'em all handed over to him, and the pressing letters were 
 all unread by Sir Condy, who hated trouble, and could never 
 be brought to hear talk of business, but still put it off and put it 
 off, saying, ' Settle it anyhow,' or, ' Bid 'em call again to-morrow,' 
 or, ' Speak to me about it some other time.' Now it was hard 
 to find the right time to speak, for in the mornings he was 
 a-bed, and in the evenings over his bottle, where no gentle- 
 man chooses to be disturbed. Things in a twelvemonth 
 or so came to such a pass there was no making a shift 
 to go on any longer, though we were all of us well 
 enough used to live from hand to mouth at Castle Rackrent. 
 One day, I remember, when there was a power of company, 
 all sitting after dinner in the dusk, not to say dark, 
 in the drawing-room, my lady having rung five times for 
 candles, and none to go up, the housekeeper sent up the foot- 
 
 36
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 man, who went to my mistress, and whispered behind her 
 chair how it was. 
 
 ' My lady,' says he, ' there are no candles in the house.' 
 
 ' Bless me,' says she ; ' then take a horse and gallop off as 
 fast as you can to Carrick O'Fungus, and get some.' 
 
 ' And in the meantime tell them to step into the playhouse, 
 and try if there are not some bits left,' added Sir Condy, who 
 happened to be within hearing. The man was sent up again 
 to my lady, to let her know there was no horse to go, but 
 one that wanted a shoe. 
 
 ' Go to Sir Condy then ; I know nothing at all about the 
 horses,' said my lady ; ' why do you plague me with these 
 things ? ' How it was settled I really forget, but to the best 
 of my remembrance, the boy was sent down to my son Jason's 
 to borrow candles for the night. Another time, in the winter, 
 and on a desperate cold day, there was no turf in for the 
 parlour and above stairs, and scarce enough for the cook 
 in the kitchen. The little gossoo?i x was sent off to the neigh- 
 bours, to see and beg or borrow some, but none could he 
 bring back with him for love or money ; so, as needs must, 
 we were forced to trouble Sir Condy — ' Well, and if there's 
 no turf to be had in the town or country, why, what signifies 
 talking any more about it ; can't ye go and cut down a tree ? ' 
 
 ' Which tree, please your honour ? ' I made bold to say. 
 
 ' Any tree at all that's good to bum,' said Sir Condy ; 
 ' send off smart and get one down, and the fires lighted, before 
 my lady gets up to breakfast, or the house will be too hot 
 to hold us.' 
 
 He was always very considerate in all things about my 
 lady, and she wanted for nothing whilst he had it to give. 
 Well, when things were tight with them about this time, 
 my son Jason put in a word again about the Lodge, and 
 made a genteel offer to lay down the purchase -money, 
 to relieve Sir Condy's distresses. Now Sir Condy had it 
 from the best authority that there were two writs come 
 
 1 Gossoon : a little boy — from the French word gargon. In most 
 Irish families there used to be a barefooted gossoon, who was slave to 
 the cook and the butler, and who, in fact, without wages, did all the 
 hard work of the house. Gossoons were always employed as messengers. 
 The Editor has known a gossoon to go on foot, without shoes or 
 stockings, fifty-one English miles between sunrise and sunset. 
 
 37
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 down to the sheriff against his person, and the sheriff, as 
 ill-luck would have it, was no friend of his, and talked how 
 he must do his duty, and how he would do it, if it was 
 against the first man in the country, or even his own brother, 
 let alone one who had voted against him at the last 
 election, as Sir Condy had done. So Sir Condy was fain 
 to take the purchase -money of the Lodge from my son 
 Jason to settle matters ; and sure enough it was a good 
 bargain for both parties, for my son bought the fee-simple 
 of a good house for him and his heirs for ever, for little or 
 nothing, and by selling of it for that same my master 
 saved himself from a gaol. Every way it turned out 
 fortunate for Sir Condy, for before the money was all gone 
 there came a general election, and he being so well beloved 
 in the county, and one of the oldest families, no one had 
 a better right to stand candidate for the vacancy ; and he 
 was called upon by all his friends, and the whole county I 
 may say, to declare himself against the old member, who 
 had little thought of a contest. My master did not relish 
 the thoughts of a troublesome canvass, and all the ill-will 
 he might bring upon himself by disturbing the peace of the 
 county, besides the expense, which was no trifle ; but all 
 his friends called upon one another to subscribe, and they 
 formed themselves into a committee, and wrote all his 
 circular letters for him, and engaged all his agents, and 
 did all the business unknown to him ; and he was well 
 pleased that it should be so at last, and my lady herself was 
 very sanguine about the election ; and there was open house 
 kept night and day at Castle Rackrent, and I thought I 
 never saw my lady look so well in her life as she did at 
 that time. There were grand dinners, and all the gentlemen 
 drinking success to Sir Condy till they were carried off ; 
 and then dances and balls, and the ladies all finishing with 
 a raking pot of tea in the morning. 1 Indeed, it was well 
 the company made it their choice to sit up all nights, for 
 there were not half beds enough for the sights of people 
 that were in it, though there were shake - downs in the 
 drawing-room always made up before sunrise for those that 
 liked it. For my part, when I saw the doings that were 
 going on, and the loads of claret that went down the throats 
 1 See Glossary. 
 3S
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 of them that had no right to be asking for it, and the sights 
 of meat that went up to table and never came down, besides 
 what was carried off to one or t'other below stair, I 
 couldn't but pity my poor master, who was to pay for all ; 
 but I said nothing, for fear of gaining myself ill-will. The 
 day of election will come some time or other, says I to 
 myself, and all will be over ; and so it did, and a glorious 
 day it was as any I ever had the happiness to see. 
 
 ' Huzza ! huzza ! Sir Condy Rackrent for ever ! ' was the 
 first thing I hears in the morning, and the same and nothing 
 else all day, and not a soul sober only just when polling, 
 enough to give their votes as became 'em, and to stand the 
 browbeating of the lawyers, who came tight enough upon us ; 
 and many of our freeholders were knocked off, having never 
 a freehold that they could safely swear to, and Sir Condy 
 was not willing to have any man perjure himself for his sake, 
 as was done on the other side, God knows ; but no matter 
 for that. Some of our friends were dumbfounded by the 
 lawyers asking them : Had they ever been upon the ground 
 where their freeholds lay ? Now, Sir Condy being tender 
 of the consciences of them that had not been on the ground, 
 and so could not swear to a freehold when cross-examined 
 by them lawyers, sent out for a couple of cleavesful of the 
 sods of his farm of Gulteeshinnagh ; 1 and as soon as the 
 sods came into town, he set each man upon his sod, and 
 so then, ever after, you know, they could fairly swear they 
 had been upon the ground. 2 We gained the day by this 
 piece of honesty. 3 I thought I should have died in the 
 streets for joy when I seed my poor master chaired, and he 
 bareheaded, and it raining as hard as it could pour ; but all 
 
 1 At St. Patrick's meeting, London, March 1806, the Duke of 
 Sussex said he had the honour of bearing an Irish title, and, with the 
 permission of the company, he should tell them an anecdote of what 
 he had experienced on his travels. When he was at Rome he went to 
 visit an Irish seminary, and when they heard who it was, and that he 
 had an Irish title, some of them asked him, ' Please your Royal Highness, 
 since you are an Irish peer, will you tell us if you ever trod upon Irish 
 ground?' When he told them he had not, 'Oh, then,' said one of 
 the Order, 'you shall soon do so.' They then spread some earth, which 
 had been brought from Ireland, on a marble slab, and made him stand 
 upon it. 
 
 - This was actually done at an election in Ireland. 
 
 3 See Glossary, 
 
 39
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 the crowds following him up and down, and he bowing and 
 shaking hands with the whole town. 
 
 4 Is that Sir Condy Rackrent in the chair?' says a stranger 
 man in the crowd. 
 
 'The same,' says I. 'Who else should it be? God bless 
 him ! ' 
 
 ' And I take it, then, you belong to him ? ' says he. 
 
 ' Not at all,' says I ; ' but I live under him, and have done 
 so these two hundred years and upwards, me and mine.' 
 
 ' It's lucky for you, then,' rejoins he, 'that he is where he 
 is ; for was he anywhere else but in the chair, this minute he'd 
 be in a worse place ; for I was sent down on purpose to put 
 him up, 1 and here's my order for so doing in my pocket.' 
 
 It was a writ that villain the wine merchant had marked 
 against my poor master for some hundreds of an old debt, 
 which it was a shame to be talking of at such a time as 
 this. 
 
 ' Put it in your pocket again, and think no more of it 
 anyways for seven years to come, my honest friend,' says I ; 
 ' he's a member of Parliament now, praised be God, and 
 such as you can't touch him : and if you'll take a fool's 
 advice, I'd have you keep out of the way this day, or you'll 
 run a good chance of getting your deserts amongst my 
 master's friends, unless you choose to drink his health like 
 everybody else.' 
 
 ' I've no objection to that in life,' said he. So we went into 
 one of the public-houses kept open for my master ; and we 
 had a great deal of talk about this thing and that. 'And 
 how is it,' says he, ' your master keeps on so well upon his 
 legs ? I heard say he was off Holantide twelvemonth past.' 
 
 ' Never was better or heartier in his life,' said I. 
 
 ' It's not that I'm after speaking of,' said he ; ' but there 
 was a great report of his being ruined.' 
 
 ' No matter,' says I, ' the sheriffs two years running were 
 his particular friends, and the sub -sheriffs were both of 
 them gentlemen, and were properly spoken to ; and so the 
 writs lay snug with them, and they, as I understand by 
 my son Jason the custom in them cases is, returned the 
 writs as they came to them to those that sent 'em — much 
 good may it do them ! — with a word in Latin, that no such 
 1 To put him up ; to put him in gaol. 
 40
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 person as Sir Condy Rackrent, Bart., was to be found in 
 those parts.' 
 
 ' Oh, I understand all those ways better — no offence — than 
 you,' says he, laughing, and at the same time filling his glass 
 to my master's good health, which convinced me he was a 
 warm friend in his heart after all, though appearances were a 
 little suspicious or so at first. ' To be sure,' says he, still 
 cutting his joke, ' when a man's over head and shoulders in 
 debt, he may live the faster for it, and the better if he goes 
 the right way about it ; or else how is it so many live on so 
 well, as we see every day, after they are ruined ? ' 
 
 'How is it,' says I, being a little merry at the time — 'how 
 is it but just as you see the ducks in the chicken-yard, just 
 after their heads are cut off by the cook, running round and 
 round faster than when alive ? ' 
 
 At which conceit he fella-laughing, and remarked he had never 
 had the happiness yet to see the chicken-yard at Castle Rackrent. 
 
 ' It won't be long so, I hope,' says I ; ' you'll be kindly wel- 
 come there, as everybody is made by my master : there is not 
 a freer-spoken gentleman, or a better beloved, high or low, in 
 all Ireland.' 
 
 And of what passed after this I'm not sensible, for we 
 drank Sir Condy's good health and the downfall of his 
 enemies till we could stand no longer ourselves. And little 
 did I think at the time, or till long after, how I was harbouring 
 my poor master's greatest of enemies myself. This fellow had 
 the impudence, after coming to see the chicken-yard, to get 
 me to introduce him to my son Jason ; little more than the 
 man that never was born did I guess at his meaning by this 
 visit : he gets him a correct list fairly drawn out from my son 
 Jason of all my master's debts, and goes straight round to the 
 creditors and buys them all up, which he did easy enough, 
 seeing the half of them never expected to see their money out 
 of Sir Condy's hands. Then, when this base-minded limb of 
 the law, as I afterwards detected him in being, grew to be sole 
 creditor over all, he takes him out a custodiam on all the 
 denominations and sub-denominations, and even carton l and 
 half-carton upon the estate ; and not content with that, must 
 have an execution against the master's goods and down to the 
 furniture, though little worth, of Castle Rackrent itself. But 
 1 See Glossary. 
 41
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 this is a part of my story I'm not come to yet, and it's bad to 
 be forestalling : ill news flies fast enough all the world over. 
 
 To go back to the day of the election, which I never think 
 of but with pleasure and tears of gratitude for those good 
 times : after the election was quite and clean over, there comes 
 shoals of people from all parts, claiming to have obliged my 
 master with their votes, and putting him in mind of promises 
 which he could never remember himself to have made : one 
 was to have a freehold for each of his four sons ; another was 
 to have a renewal of a lease ; another an abatement ; one 
 came to be paid ten guineas for a pair of silver buckles sold 
 my master on the hustings, which turned out to be no better 
 than copper gilt ; another had a long bill for oats, the half of 
 which never went into the granary to my certain knowledge, 
 and the other half was not fit for the cattle to touch ; but the 
 bargain was made the week before the election, and the coach 
 and saddle-horses were got into order for the day, besides a 
 vote fairly got by them oats ; so no more reasoning on that 
 head. But then there was no end to them that were telling 
 Sir Condy he had engaged to make their sons excisemen, or 
 high constables, or the like ; and as for them that had bills to 
 give in for liquor, and beds, and straw, and ribands, and horses, 
 and post-chaises for the gentlemen freeholders that came from 
 all parts and other counties to vote for my master, and were not, 
 to be sure, to be at any charges, there was no standing against 
 all these ; and, worse than all, the gentlemen of my master's 
 committee, who managed all for him, and talked how they'd 
 bring him in without costing him a penny, and subscribed by 
 hundreds very genteelly, forgot to pay their subscriptions, and 
 had laid out in agents' and lawyers' fees and secret service 
 money to the Lord knows how much ; and my master could 
 never ask one of them for their subscription you are sensible, 
 nor for the price of a fine horse he had sold one of them ; so 
 it all was left at his door. He could never, God bless him 
 again ! I say, bring himself to ask a gentleman for money, 
 despising such sort of conversation himself; but others, who 
 were not gentlemen born, behaved very uncivil in pressing him 
 at this very time, and all he could do to content 'em all was 
 to take himself out of the way as fast as possible to Dublin, 
 where my lady had taken a house fitting for him as a member 
 of Parliament, to attend his duty in there all the winter. I
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 was very lonely when the whole family was gone, and all the 
 things they had ordered to go, and forgot, sent after them by 
 the car. There was then a great silence in Castle Rackrent, 
 and I went moping from room to room, hearing the doors clap 
 for want of right locks, and the wind through the broken 
 windows, that the glazier never would come to mend, and the 
 rain coming through the roof and best ceilings all over the 
 house for want of the slater, whose bill was not paid, besides 
 our having no slates or shingles for that part of the old building 
 which was shingled and burnt when the chimney took fire, and 
 had been open to the weather ever since. I took myself to 
 the servants' hall in the evening to smoke my pipe as usual, 
 but missed the bit of talk we used to have there sadly, and 
 ever after was content to stay in the kitchen and boil my little 
 potatoes, 1 and put up my bed there, and every post-day I 
 looked in the newspaper, but no news of my master in the 
 House ; he never spoke good or bad, but, as the butler wrote 
 down word to my son Jason, was very ill-used by the Govern- 
 ment about a place that was promised him and never given, 
 after his supporting them against his conscience very honour- 
 ably, and being greatly abused for it, which hurt him greatly, 
 he having the name of a great patriot in the country before. 
 The house and living in Dublin too were not to be had for 
 nothing, and my son Jason said, ' Sir Condy must soon be 
 looking out for a new agent, for I've done my part, and can 
 do no more. If my lady had the bank of Ireland to spend, it 
 would go all in one winter, and Sir Condy would never gain- 
 say her, though he does not care the rind of a lemon for her 
 all the while.' 
 
 Now I could not bear to hear Jason giving out after this 
 manner against the family, and twenty people standing by in 
 the street. Ever since he had lived at the Lodge of his own 
 he looked down, howsomever, upon poor old Thady, and was 
 grown quite a great gentleman, and had none of his relations 
 near him ; no wonder he was no kinder to poor Sir Condy 
 than to his own kith or kin. 2 In the spring it was the villain 
 that got the list of the debts from him brought down the 
 
 1 My little potatoes. — Thady does not mean by this expression that his 
 potatoes were less than other people's, or less than the usual size. Little is 
 here used only as an Italian diminutive, expressive of fondness. 
 
 2 Kith and kin : family or relations. Kin from kind; kith from we 
 know not what. 
 
 43
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 custodiam, Sir Condy still attending his duty in Parliament ; 
 and I could scarcely believe my own old eyes, or the spectacles 
 with which I read it, when I was shown my son Jason's name 
 joined in the custodiam ; but he told me it was only for form's 
 sake, and to make things easier than if all the land was under 
 the power of a total stranger. Well, I did not know what to 
 think ; it was hard to be talking ill of my own, and I could 
 not but grieve for my poor master's fine estate, all torn by 
 these vultures of the law ; so I said nothing, but just looked 
 on to see how it would all end. 
 
 It was not till the month of June that he and my lady came 
 down to the country. My master was pleased to take me 
 aside with him to the brewhouse that same evening, to complain 
 to me of my son and other matters, in which he said he was 
 confident I had neither art nor part ; he said a great deal more 
 to me, to whom he had been fond to talk ever since he was 
 my white-headed boy before he came to the estate ; and all 
 that he said about poor Judy I can never forget, but scorn to 
 repeat. He did not say an unkind word of my lady, but 
 wondered, as well he might, her relations would do nothing for 
 him or her, and they in all this great distress. He did not 
 take anything long to heart, let it be as it would, and had 
 no more malice or thought of the like in him than a child 
 that can't speak ; this night it was all out of his head before 
 he went to his bed. He took his jug of whisky-punch — my 
 lady was grown quite easy about the whisky-punch by this 
 time, and so I did suppose all was going on right betwixt them, 
 till I learnt the truth through Mrs. Jane, who talked over the 
 affairs to the housekeeper, and I within hearing. The night 
 my master came home, thinking of nothing at all but just 
 making merry, he drank his bumper toast ' to the deserts of 
 that old curmudgeon my father-in-law, and all enemies at 
 Mount Juliet's Town.' Now my lady was no longer in the mind 
 she formerly was, and did noways relish hearing her own 
 friends abused in her presence, she said. 
 
 ' Then why don't they show themselves your friends,' said 
 my master, 'and oblige me with the loan of the money I 
 condescended, by your advice, my dear, to ask ? It's now 
 three posts since I sent off my letter, desiring in the postscript 
 a speedy answer by the return of the post, and no account at 
 all from them yet.' 
 
 44
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' I expect they'll write to me next post,' says my lady, and 
 that was all that passed then ; but it was easy from this to 
 
 yv 
 
 ' " Dear ma'am, and ivhat's the matter ? " says I. 
 " Matter enotigh," says she.' 
 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan &■ Co. 
 
 guess there was a coolness betwixt them, and with good 
 cause. 
 
 The next morning, being post-day, I sent off the gossoon 
 early to the post-office, to see was there any letter likely to set 
 matters to rights, and he brought back one with the proper 
 post-mark upon it, sure enough, and I had no time to examine 
 
 45
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 or make any conjecture more about it, for into the servants' 
 hall pops Mrs. Jane with a blue bandbox in her hand, quite 
 entirely mad. 
 
 ' Dear ma'am, and what's the matter ?' says I. 
 
 ' Matter enough,' says she ; ' don't you see my bandbox is 
 wet through, and my best bonnet here spoiled, besides my lady's, 
 and all by the rain coming in through that gallery window 
 that you might have got mended if you'd had any sense, 
 Thady, all the time we were in town in the winter ? ' 
 
 ' Sure, I could not get the glazier, ma'am,' says I. 
 
 ' You might have stopped it up anyhow,' says she. 
 
 ' So I did, ma'am, to the best of my ability ; one of the panes 
 with the old pillow-case, and the other with a piece of the 
 old stage green curtain. Sure I was as careful as possible all 
 the time you were away, and not a drop of rain came in at 
 that window of all the windows in the house, all winter, ma'am, 
 when under my care ; and now the family's come home, and 
 it's summer-time, I never thought no more about it, to be 
 sure ; but dear, it's a pity to think of your bonnet, ma'am. 
 But here's what will please you, ma'am— a letter from Mount 
 Juliet's Town for my lady. 
 
 With that she snacches it from me without a word more, 
 and runs up the back stairs to my mistress ; I follows with 
 a slate to make up the window. This window was in the 
 long passage, or gallery, as my lady gave out orders to have 
 it called, in the gallery leading to my master's bedchamber 
 and hers. And when I went up with the slate, the door 
 having no lock, and the bolt spoilt, was ajar after Mrs. Jane, 
 and, as I was busy with the window, I heard all that was 
 saying within. 
 
 'Well, what's in your letter, Bella, my dear?' says he: 
 ' you're a long time spelling it over.' 
 
 ' Won't you shave this morning, Sir Condy ? ' says she, and 
 put the letter into her pocket. 
 
 ' I shaved the day before yesterday,' said he, ' my dear, 
 and that's not what I'm thinking of now ; but anything to 
 oblige you, and to have peace and quietness, my dear' — 
 and presently I had a glimpse of him at the cracked glass 
 over the chimney-piece, standing up shaving himself to please 
 my lady. But she took no notice, but went on reading her 
 book, and Mrs. Jane doing her hair behind. 
 
 46
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' What is it you're reading- there, my dear ? — phoo, I've cut 
 myself with this razor ; the man's a cheat that sold it me, but 
 I have not paid him for it yet. What is it you're reading 
 there ? Did you hear me asking you, my dear ? ' 
 
 ' The Sorrows of IVerter,' replies my lady, as well as I could 
 hear. 
 
 ' I think more of the sorrows of Sir Condy,' says my 
 master, joking like. ' What news from Mount Juliet's Town ? ' 
 
 ' No news,' says she, ' but the old story over again ; my 
 friends all reproaching me st^ll for what I can't help now.' 
 
 'Is it for marrying me?' said my master, still shaving. 
 ' What signifies, as you say, talking of that, when it can't be 
 help'd now ? ' 
 
 With that she heaved a great sigh that I heard plain 
 enough in the passage. 
 
 ' And did not you use me basely, Sir Condy,' says she, 
 ' not to tell me you were ruined before I married you ? ; 
 
 ' Tell you, my dear ! ' said he. ' Did you ever ask me one 
 word about it. And had not your friends enough of your own, 
 that were telling you nothing else from morning to night, if 
 you'd have listened to them slanders ? ' 
 
 ' No slanders, nor are my friends slanderers ; and I can't 
 bear to hear them treated with disrespect as I do,' says my 
 lady, and took out her pocket-handkerchief; 'they are the 
 
 best of friends, and if I had taken their advice But 
 
 my father was wrong to lock me up, I own. That was the 
 only unkind thing I can charge him with ; for if he had not 
 locked me up, I should never have had a serious thought of 
 running away as I did.' 
 
 ' Well, my dear,' said my master, ' don't cry and make 
 yourself uneasy about it now, when it's all over, and you have 
 the man of your own choice, in spite of 'em all.' 
 
 ' I was too young, I know, to make a choice at the time you 
 ran away with me, I'm sure,' says my lady, and another sigh, 
 which made my master, half-shaved as he was, turn round upon 
 her in surprise. 
 
 ' Why, Bell,' says he, ' you can't deny what you know as 
 well as I do, that it was at your own particular desire, and 
 that twice under your own hand and seal expressed, that I 
 should carry you off as I did to Scotland, and marry you 
 there.' 
 
 47
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 'Well, say no more about it, Sir Condy,' said my lady, 
 pettish-like ; ' I was a child then, you know.' 
 
 'And as far as I know, you're little better now, my dear 
 Bella, to be talking in this manner to your husband's face; 
 but I won't take it ill of you, for I know it's something in that 
 letter you put into your pocket just now that has set you against 
 me all on a sudden, and imposed upon your understanding.' 
 
 ' It's not so very easy as you think it, Sir Condy, to impose 
 upon my understanding,' said my lady. 
 
 ' My dear,' says he, ' I have, and with reason, the best 
 opinion of your understanding of any man now breathing ; and 
 you know I have never set my own in competition with it till 
 now, my dear Bella,' says he, taking her hand from her book 
 as kind as could be — ' till now, when I have the great advantage 
 of being quite cool, and you not ; so don't believe one word 
 your friends say against your own Sir Condy, and lend me 
 the letter out of your pocket, till I see what it is they can have 
 to say.' 
 
 ' Take it then,' says she ; ' and as you are quite cool, I hope 
 it is a proper time to request you'll allow me to comply with 
 the wishes of all my own friends, and return to live with my 
 father and family, during the remainder of my wretched exist- 
 ence, at Mount Juliet's Town.' 
 
 At this my poor master fell back a few paces, like one 
 that had been shot. 
 
 ' You're not serious, Bella,' says he ; ' and could you find 
 it in your heart to leave me this way in the very middle 
 of my distresses, all alone ? ' But recollecting himself after 
 his first surprise, and a moment's time for reflection, he 
 said, with a great deal of consideration for my lady, 'Well, 
 Bella, my dear, I believe you are right ; for what could 
 you do at Castle Rackrent, and an execution against the 
 goods coming down, and the furniture to be canted, and an 
 auction in the house all next week ? So you have my full 
 consent to go, since that is your desire ; only you must not 
 think of my accompanying you, which I could not in honour 
 do upon the terms I always have been, since our marriage, 
 with your friends. Besides, I have business to transact at 
 home ; so in the meantime, if we are to have any breakfast 
 this morning, let us go down and have it for the last time in 
 peace and comfort, Bella.' 
 
 48
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Then as I heard my master coming to the passage door, I 
 finished fastening up my slate against the broken pane ; and 
 
 1 / "wiped down the window-seat with my wig; find bade 
 him a "good-morrow" as kindly as I could.' 
 
 when he came out I wiped down the window-seat with my 
 wig, 1 and bade him a 'good-morrow' as kindly as I could, seeing 
 
 1 Wigs were formerly used instead of brooms in Ireland for sweeping 
 49 E
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 he was in trouble, though he strove and thought to hide it 
 from me. 
 
 'This window is all racked and tattered,' says I, 'and it's 
 what I'm striving to mend.' 
 
 'It is all racked and tattered, plain enough,' says he, ' and 
 never mind mending it, honest old Thady,' says he ; 'it will 
 do well enough for you and I, and that's all the company we 
 shall have left in the house by and by.' 
 
 ' I'm sorry to see your honour so low this morning,' says I ; 
 ' but you'll be better after taking your breakfast.' 
 
 ' Step down to the servants' hall,' said he, ' and bring me 
 up the pen and ink into the parlour, and get a sheet of paper 
 from Mrs. Jane, for I have business that can't brook to be 
 delayed ; and come into the parlour with the pen and ink 
 yourself, Thady, for I must have you to witness my signing a 
 paper I have to execute in a hurry.' 
 
 Well, while I was getting of the pen and ink-horn, and 
 the sheet of paper, I ransacked my brains to think what 
 could be the papers my poor master could have to execute 
 in such a hurry, he that never thought of such a thing as 
 doing business afore breakfast in the whole course of his life, 
 for any man living ; but this was for my lady, as I afterwards 
 found, and the more genteel of him after all her treatment. 
 
 I was just witnessing the paper that he had scrawled over, 
 and was shaking the ink out of my pen upon the carpet, when 
 my lady came in to breakfast, and she started as if it had 
 been a ghost ; as well she might, when she saw Sir Condy 
 writing at this unseasonable hour. 
 
 ' That will do very well, Thady,' says he to me, and took 
 the paper I had signed to, without knowing what upon the 
 earth it might be, out of my hands, and walked, folding it 
 up, to my lady. 
 
 or dusting tables, stairs, etc. The Editor doubted the fact till he saw a 
 labourer of the old school sweep down a flight of stairs with his wig ; he 
 afterwards put it on his head again with the utmost composure, and said, 
 ' Oh, please your honour, it's never a bit the worse.' 
 
 It must be acknowledged that these men are not in any danger of 
 catching cold by taking off their wigs occasionally, because they usually 
 have fine crops of hair growing under their wigs. The wigs are often 
 yellow, and the hair which appears from beneath them black ; the wigs 
 are usually too small, and are raised up by the hair beneath, or by the 
 ears of the wearers. 
 
 5°
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 'You are concerned in this, my Lady Rackrent,' said he, 
 putting it into her hands ; ' and I beg you'll keep this memo- 
 randum safe, and show it to your friends the first thing you do 
 when you get home ; but put it in your pocket now, my dear, 
 and let us eat our breakfast, in God's name.' 
 
 'What is all this?' said my lady, opening the paper in 
 great curiosity. 
 
 'It's only a bit of a memorandum of what I think becomes me 
 to do whenever I am able,' says my master ; ' you know my 
 situation, tied hand and foot at the present time being, but 
 that can't last always, and when I'm dead and gone the land 
 will be to the good, Thady, you know ; and take notice it's 
 my intention your lady should have a clear five hundred a 
 year jointure off the estate afore any of my debts are paid.' 
 
 ' Oh, please your honour,' says I, ' I can't expect to live to 
 see that time, being now upwards of fourscore years of age, 
 and you a young man, and likely to continue so, by the help 
 of God.' 
 
 I was vexed to see my lady so insensible too, for all she 
 said was, ' This is very genteel of you, Sir Condy. You 
 need not wait any longer, Thady.' So I just picked up the 
 pen and ink that had tumbled on the floor, and heard my 
 master finish with saying, ' You behaved very genteel to me, 
 my dear, when you threw all the little you had in your 
 power along with yourself into my hands ; and as I don't deny 
 but what you may have had some things to complain of,' — to 
 be sure he was thinking then of Judy, or of the whisky-punch, 
 one or t'other, or both, — ' and as I don't deny but you may 
 have had something to complain of, my dear, it is but fair you 
 should have something in the form of compensation to look 
 forward to agreeably in future ; besides, it's an act of justice 
 to myself, that none of your friends, my dear, may ever have 
 it to say against me, I married for money, and not for 
 love.' 
 
 ' That is the last thing I should ever have thought of saying 
 of you, Sir Condy,' said my lady, looking very gracious. 
 
 ' Then, my dear,' said Sir Condy, ' we shall part as good 
 friends as we met ; so all's right.' 
 
 I was greatly rejoiced to hear this, and went out of the 
 parlour to report it all to the kitchen. The next morning my 
 lady and Mrs, Jane set out for Mount Juliet's Town in the 
 
 5 1
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 jaunting-car. Many wondered at my lady's choosing to go 
 away, considering all things, upon the jaunting-car, as if it 
 was only a party of pleasure ; but they did not know till I 
 told them that the coach was all broke in the journey down, 
 and no other vehicle but the car to be had. Besides, my 
 lady's friends were to send their coach to meet her at the 
 cross-roads ; so it was all done very proper. 
 
 My poor master was in great trouble after my lady left us. 
 The execution came down, and everything at Castle Rackrent 
 was seized by the gripers, and my son Jason, to his shame be 
 it spoken, amongst them. I wondered, for the life of me, 
 how he could harden himself to do it ; but then he had been 
 studying the law, and had made himself Attorney Quirk ; so 
 he brought down at once a heap of accounts upon my master's 
 head. To cash lent, and to ditto, and to ditto, and to ditto 
 and oats, and bills paid at the milliner's and linen-draper's, 
 and many dresses for the fancy balls in Dublin for my lady, 
 and all the bills to the workmen and tradesmen for the scenery 
 of the theatre, and the chandler's and grocer's bills, and 
 tailor's, besides butcher's and baker's, and, worse than all, the 
 old one of that base wine merchant's, that wanted to arrest my 
 poor master for the amount on the election day, for which 
 amount Sir Condy afterwards passed his note of hand, bearing 
 lawful interest from the date thereof; and the interest and 
 compound interest was now mounted to a terrible deal on 
 many other notes and bonds for money borrowed, and there 
 was, besides, hush-money to the sub-sheriffs, and sheets upon 
 sheets of old and new attorneys' bills, with heavy balances, ' as 
 per former account furnished,' brought forward with interest 
 thereon ; then there was a powerful deal due to the Crown for 
 sixteen years' arrear of quit-rent of the town-lands of Carrick- 
 shaughlin, with driver's fees, and a compliment to the receiver 
 every year for letting the quit-rent run on to oblige Sir Condy, 
 and Sir Kit afore him. Then there were bills for spirits and 
 ribands at the election time, and the gentlemen of the com- 
 mittee's accounts unsettled, and their subscription never 
 gathered ; and there were cows to be paid for, with the smith 
 and farrier's bills to be set against the rent of the demesne, 
 with calf and hay money ; then there was all the servants' 
 wages, since I don't know when, coming due to them, and 
 sums advanced for them by my son Jason for clothes, and 
 
 52
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 boots, and whips, and odd moneys for sundries expended by 
 them in journeys to town and elsewhere, and pocket-money 
 for the master continually, and messengers and postage before 
 his being a Parliament man. I can't myself tell you what 
 besides ; but this I know, that when the evening came on the 
 which Sir Condy had appointed to settle all with my son 
 Jason, and when he comes into the parlour, and sees the sight 
 of bills and load of papers all gathered on the great dining- 
 table for him, he puts his hands before both his eyes, and 
 cried out, ' Merciful Jasus ! what is it I see before me ? ' 
 Then I sets an arm-chair at the table for him, and with a deal 
 of difficulty he sits him down, and my son Jason hands him 
 over the pen and ink to sign to this man's bill and t'other man's 
 bill, all which he did without making the least objections. 
 Indeed, to give him his due, I never seen a man more fair and 
 honest, and easy in all his dealings, from first to last, as Sir 
 Condy, or more willing to pay every man his own as far as he 
 was able, which is as much as any one can do. 
 
 ' Well,' says he, joking like with Jason, ' I wish we could 
 settle it all with a stroke of my grey goose quill. What 
 signifies making me wade through all this ocean of papers 
 here ; can't you now, who understand drawing out an account, 
 debtor and creditor, just sit down here at the corner of the 
 table and get it done out for me, that I may have a clear view 
 of the balance, which is all I need be talking about, you 
 know ? ' 
 
 ' Very true, Sir Condy ; nobody understands business better 
 than yourself,' says Jason. 
 
 ' So I've a right to do, being born and bred to the bar,' 
 says Sir Condy. ' Thady, do step out and see are they 
 bringing in the things for the punch, for we've just done all 
 we have to do for this evening.' 
 
 I goes out accordingly, and when I came back Jason was 
 pointing to the balance, which was a terrible sight to my poor 
 master. 
 
 ' Pooh ! pooh ! pooh ! ' says he. ' Here's so many noughts 
 they dazzle my eyes, so they do, and put me in mind of all I 
 suffered laming of my numeration table, when I was a boy 
 at the day-school along with you, Jason — units, tens, hundreds, 
 tens of hundreds. Is the punch ready, Thady ? ' says he, 
 seeing me. 
 
 53
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' Immediately ; the boy has the jug in his hand ; it's 
 coming upstairs, please your honour, as fast as possible,' says 
 I, for I saw his honour was tired out of his life ; but Jason, 
 very short and cruel, cuts me off with — 'Don't be talking 
 of punch yet awhile ; it's no time for punch yet a bit — units, 
 tens, hundreds,' goes he on, counting over the master's 
 shoulder, units, tens, hundreds, thousands. 
 
 ' A-a-ah ! hold your hand,' cries my master. ' Where in 
 this wide world am I to find hundreds, or units itself, let 
 alone thousands ? ' 
 
 ' The balance has been running on too long,' says Jason, 
 sticking to him as I could not have done at the time, if you'd 
 have given both the Indies and Cork to boot ; ' the balance 
 has been running on too long, and I'm distressed myself on 
 your account, Sir Condy, for money, and the thing must be 
 settled now on the spot, and the balance cleared off,' says 
 Jason. 
 
 ' I'll thank you if you'll only show me how,' says Sir Condy. 
 
 ' There's but one way,' says Jason, ' and that's ready 
 enough. When there's no cash, what can a gentleman do 
 but go to the land ? ' 
 
 ' How can you go to the land, and it under custodiam to 
 yourself already ? ' says Sir Condy ; ' and another custodiam 
 hanging over it ? And no one at all can touch it, you know, 
 but the custodees.' 
 
 ' Sure, can't you sell, though at a loss ? Sure you can sell, 
 and I've a purchaser ready for you,' says Jason. 
 
 ' Have you so ? ' says Sir Condy. ' That's a great point 
 gained. But there's a thing now beyond all, that perhaps 
 you don't know yet, barring Thady has let you into the 
 secret.' 
 
 ' Sarrah bit of a secret, or anything at all of the kind, has 
 he learned from me these fifteen weeks come St. John's Eve,' 
 says I, 'for we have scarce been upon speaking terms of late. 
 But what is it your honour means of a secret ? ' 
 
 ' Why, the secret of the little keepsake I gave my Lady 
 Rackrent the morning she left us, that she might not go 
 back empty-handed to her friends.' 
 
 ' My Lady Rackrent, I'm sure, has baubles and keep- 
 sakes enough, as those bills on the table will show,' says 
 Jason ; ' but whatever it is,' says he, taking up his pen, ' we 
 
 54
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 must add it to the balance, for to be sure it can't be paid 
 for.' 
 
 1 No, nor can't till after my decease,' says Sir Condy ; ' that's 
 one good thing.' Then colouring up a good deal, he tells Jason 
 of the memorandum of the five hundred a-year jointure he had 
 settled upon my lady ; at which Jason was indeed mad, and 
 said a great deal in very high words, that it was using a 
 gentleman who had the management of his affairs, and was, 
 moreover, his principal creditor, extremely ill to do such a 
 thing without consulting him, and against his knowledge and 
 consent. To all which Sir Condy had nothing to reply, but 
 that, upon his conscience, it was in a hurry and without a 
 moment's thought on his part, and he was very sorry for it, 
 but if it was to do over again he would do the same ; and he 
 appealed to me, and I was ready to give my evidence, if that 
 would do, to the truth of all he said. 
 
 So Jason with much ado was brought to agree to a com- 
 promise. 
 
 ' The purchaser that I have ready,' says he, ' will be much 
 displeased, to be sure, at the encumbrance on the land, but 
 I must see and manage him. Here's a deed ready drawn 
 up ; we have nothing to do but to put in the consideration 
 money and our names to it.' 
 
 ' And how much am I going to sell ? — the lands of 
 O'Shaughlin's Town, and the lands of Gruneaghoolaghan, and 
 the lands of Crookagnawaturgh,' says he, just reading to him- 
 self. ' And — oh, murder, Jason ! sure you won't put this in 
 — the castle, stable, and appurtenances of Castle Rackrent ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, murder ! ' says I, clapping my hands ; ' this is too 
 bad, Jason.' 
 
 ' Why so ? ' said Jason. ' When it's all, and a great deal 
 more to the back of it, lawfully mine, was I to push for it.' 
 
 ' Look at him,' says I, pointing to Sir Condy, who was 
 just leaning back in his arm-chair, with his arms falling be- 
 side him like one stupefied ; ' is it you, Jason, that can stand 
 in his presence, and recollect all he has been to us, and all we 
 have been to him, and yet use him so at the last ? ' 
 
 ' Who will you find to use him better, I ask you ? ' said 
 Jason ; ' if he can get a better purchaser, I'm content ; I only 
 offer to purchase, to make things easy, and oblige him ; though 
 I don't see what compliment I am under, if you come to that. 
 
 55
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 I have never had, asked, or charged more than sixpence in 
 the pound, receiver's fees, and where would he have got an 
 agent for a penny less ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, Jason ! Jason ! how will you stand to this in the face 
 of the county, and all who know you ? ' says I ; ' and what will 
 
 ' " Look at him," says T, pointing to i,'ir Concty.' 
 
 people think and say when they see you living here in Castle 
 Rackrent, and the lawful owner turned out of the seat of his 
 ancestors, without a cabin to put his head into, or so much as 
 a potato to eat ?' 
 
 Jason, whilst I was saying this, and a great deal more, 
 56
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 made me signs, and winks, and frowns ; but I took no heed, 
 for I was grieved and sick at heart for my poor master, and 
 couldn't but speak. 
 
 ' Here's the punch,' says Jason, for the door opened ; 
 ' here's the punch ! ' 
 
 Hearing that, my master starts up in his chair, and recollects 
 himself, and Jason uncorks the whisky. 
 
 ' Set down the jug here,' says he, making room for it be- 
 side the papers opposite to Sir Condy, but still not stirring the 
 deed that was to make over all. 
 
 Well, I was in great hopes he had some touch of mercy 
 about him when I saw him making the punch, and my master 
 took a glass ; but Jason put it back as he was going to fill 
 again, saying : ' No, Sir Condy, it shan't be said of me I got 
 your signature to this deed when you were half-seas over : you 
 know your name and handwriting in that condition would not, 
 if brought before the courts, benefit me a straw ; wherefore, 
 let us settle all before we go deeper into the punch-bowl.' 
 
 1 Settle all as you will,' said Sir Condy, clapping his hands 
 to his ears ; ' but let me hear no more. I'm bothered to death 
 this night.' 
 
 ' You've only to sign,' said Jason, putting the pen to 
 him. 
 
 ' Take all, and be content,' said my master. So he signed ; 
 and the man who brought in the punch witnessed it, for I was 
 not able, but crying like a child ; and besides, Jason said, which 
 I was glad of, that I was no fit witness, being so old and doting. 
 It was so bad with me, I could not taste a drop of the punch 
 itself, though my master himself, God bless him ! in the midst 
 of his trouble, poured out a glass for me, and brought it up to 
 my lips. 
 
 ' Not a drop ; I thank your honour's honour as much as if I 
 took it, though.' And I just set down the glass as it was, 
 and went out, and when I got to the street door the neighbours' 
 childer, who were playing at marbles there, seeing me in great 
 trouble, left their play, and gathered about me to know what 
 ailed me ; and I told them all, for it was a great relief to me 
 to speak to these poor childer, that seemed to have some 
 natural feeling left in them ; and when they were made sensible 
 that Sir Condy was going to leave Castle Rackrent for good 
 and all, they set up a whillaluh that could be heard to the 
 
 57
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 farthest end of the street ; and one — fine boy he was — that my 
 master had given an apple to that morning, cried the loudest ; 
 but they all were the same sorry, for Sir Condy was greatly 
 beloved amongst the childer, for letting them go a-nutting in 
 the demesne, without saying a word to them, though my lady 
 objected to them. The people in the town, who were the 
 most of them standing at their doors, hearing the childer cry, 
 would know the reason of it ; and when the report was made 
 known, the people one and all gathered in great anger against 
 my son Jason, and terror at the notion of his coming to be 
 landlord over them, and they cried, ' No Jason ! no Jason ! 
 Sir Condy ! Sir Condy ! Sir Condy Rackrent for ever ! ' And 
 the mob grew so great and so loud, I was frightened, and 
 made my way back to the house to warn my son to make his 
 escape, or hide himself for fear of the consequences. Jason 
 would not believe me till they came all round the house, and 
 to the windows with great shouts. Then he grew quite pale, 
 and asked Sir Condy what had he best do ? 
 
 ' I'll tell you what you had best do,' said Sir Condy, who 
 was laughing to see his fright ; ' finish your glass first, then 
 let's go to the window and show ourselves, and I'll tell 'em — 
 or you shall, if you please — that I'm going to the Lodge for 
 change of air for my health, and by my own desire, for the rest 
 of my days.' 
 
 ' Do so,' said Jason, who never meant it should have been so, 
 but could not refuse him the Lodge at this unseasonable time. 
 Accordingly, Sir Condy threw up the sash and explained 
 matters, and thanked all his friends, and bid them look in at 
 the punch-bowl, and observe that Jason and he had been 
 sitting over it very good friends ; so the mob was content, and 
 he sent them out some whisky to drink his health, and that 
 was the last time his honour's health was ever drunk at Castle 
 Rackrent. 
 
 The very next day, being too proud, as he said to me, to 
 stay an hour longer in a house that did not belong to him, he 
 sets off to the Lodge, and I along with him not many hours 
 after. And there was great bemoaning through all O'Shaughlin's 
 Town, which I stayed to witness, and gave my poor master a 
 full account of when I got to the Lodge. He was very low, 
 and in his bed, when I got there, and complained of a great 
 pain about his heart ; but I guessed it was only trouble and 
 
 58
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 all the business, let alone vexation, he had gone through of 
 late ; and knowing the nature of him from a boy, I took my 
 pipe, and whilst smoking it by the chimney began telling him 
 how he was beloved and regretted in the county, and it did 
 him a deal of good to hear it. 
 
 ' Your honour has a great many friends yet that you don't 
 know of, rich and poor, in the county,' says I ; ' for as I was 
 coming along the road I met two gentlemen in their own 
 carriages, who asked after you, knowing me, and wanted to 
 know where you was and all about you, and even how old 
 I was. Think of that' 
 
 Then he wakened out of his doze, and began questioning me 
 who the gentlemen were. And the next morning it came into 
 my head to go, unknown to anybody, with my master's com- 
 pliments, round to many of the gentlemen's houses, where he 
 and my lady used to visit, and people that I knew were his great 
 friends, and would go to Cork to serve him any day in the 
 year, and I made bold to try to borrow a trifle of cash from 
 them. They all treated me very civil for the most part, and 
 asked a great many questions very kind about my lady and 
 Sir Condy and all the family, and were greatly surprised to 
 learn from me Castle Rackrent was sold, and my master at 
 the Lodge for health ; and they all pitied him greatly, and he 
 had their good wishes, if that would do ; but money was a 
 thing they unfortunately had not any of them at this time to 
 spare. I had my journey for my pains, and I, not used to 
 walking, nor supple as formerly, was greatly tired, but had the 
 satisfaction of telling my master, when I got to the Lodge, all 
 the civil things said by high and low. 
 
 'Thady,' says he, 'all you've been telling me brings a 
 strange thought into my head. I've a notion I shall not be 
 long for this world anyhow, and I've a great fancy to see my 
 own funeral afore I die.' I was greatly shocked, at the first 
 speaking, to hear him speak so light about his funeral, and he 
 to all appearance in good health ; but recollecting myself, 
 answered : 
 
 ' To be sure it would be as fine a sight as one could see, 
 I dared to say, and one I should be proud to witness, 
 and I did not doubt his honour's would be as great a funeral 
 as ever Sir Patrick O'Shaughlin's was, and such a one as that 
 had never been known in the county afore or since.' But I 
 
 59
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 never thought he was in earnest about seeing his own funeral 
 himself till the next day he returns to it again. 
 
 1 Thady,' says he, ' as far as the wake * goes, sure I might 
 without any great trouble have the satisfaction of seeing a bit 
 of my own funeral.' 
 
 'Well, since your honour's honour's so bent upon it,' says 
 I, not willing to cross him, and he in trouble, ' we must 
 see what we can do.' 
 
 So he fell into a sort of sham disorder, which was easy 
 done, as he kept his bed, and no one to see him ; and I got 
 my shister, who was an old woman very handy about the sick, 
 and very skilful, to come up to the Lodge to nurse him ; and 
 we gave out, she knowing no better, that he was just at his 
 latter end, and it answered beyond anything ; and there was 
 a great throng of people, men, women, and childer, and there 
 being only two rooms at the Lodge, except what was locked up 
 full of Jason's furniture and things, the house was soon as full 
 and fuller than it could hold, and the heat, and smoke, and 
 noise wonderful great ; and standing amongst them that were 
 near the bed, but not thinking at all of the dead, I was startled 
 by the sound of my master's voice from under the greatcoats 
 that had been thrown all at top, and I went close up, no one 
 noticing. 
 
 ' Thady,' says he, ' I've had enough of this ; I'm 
 smothering, and can't hear a word of all they're saying of 
 the deceased.' 
 
 'God bless you, and lie still and quiet,' says I, ' a bit longer, 
 for my shister's afraid of ghosts, and would die on the spot 
 with fright was she to see you come to life all on a sudden 
 this way without the least preparation.' 
 
 So he lays him still, though well nigh stifled, and I made 
 all haste to tell the secret of the joke, whispering to one and 
 t'other, and there was a great surprise, but not so great as 
 we had laid out it would. ' And aren't we to have the pipes 
 and tobacco, after coming so far to-night ? ' said some ; but 
 they were all well enough pleased when his honour got up to 
 drink with them, and sent for more spirits from a shebeen- 
 
 1 A 'wake' in England is a meeting avowedly for merriment ; in Ireland 
 it is a nocturnal meeting avowedly for the purpose of watching and 
 bewailing the dead, but in reality for gossiping and debauchery. See 
 Glossary. 
 
 60
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 house, 1 where they very civilly let him have it upon credit. 
 So the night passed off very merrily, but to my mind Sir 
 Condy was rather upon the sad order in the midst of it all, 
 not finding there had been such a great talk about himself 
 after his death as he had always expected to hear. 
 
 The next morning, when the house was cleared of them, 
 and none but my shister and myself left in the kitchen with 
 Sir Condy, one opens the door and walks in, and who should 
 it be but Judy M 'Quirk herself! I forgot to notice that she 
 had been married long since, whilst young Captain Moneygawl 
 lived at the Lodge, to the captain's huntsman, who after a 
 whilst listed and left her, and was killed in the wars. Poor 
 Judy fell off greatly in her good looks after her being married 
 a year or two ; and being smoke-dried in the cabin, and 
 neglecting herself like, it was hard for Sir Condy himself to 
 know her again till she spoke ; but when she says, ' It's Judy 
 M 'Quirk, please your honour ; don't you remember her ?' 
 
 ' Oh, Judy, is it you ? ' says his honour. ' Yes, sure, I 
 remember you very well ; but you're greatly altered, 
 Judy.' 
 
 ' Sure it's time for me,' says she. ' And I think your 
 honour, since I seen you last — but that's a great while ago — 
 is altered too.' 
 
 ' And with reason, Judy,' says Sir Condy, fetching a sort 
 of a sigh. ' But how's this, Judy ? ' he goes on. ' I take 
 it a little amiss of you that you were not at my wake last 
 night.' 
 
 ' Ah, don't be being jealous of that,' says she ; ' I didn't 
 hear a sentence of your honour's wake till it was all over, 
 or it would have gone hard with me but I would have 
 been at it, sure ; but I was forced to go ten miles up the 
 country three days ago to a wedding of a relation of my own's, 
 and didn't get home till after the wake was over. But,' says 
 she, ' it won't be so, I hope, the next time, 2 please your 
 honour.' 
 
 1 That we shall see, Judy,' says his honour, ' and maybe 
 
 1 ' Shebeen-house,' a hedge alehouse. Shebeen properly means weak, 
 small-beer, taplash. 
 
 2 At the coronation of one of our monarchs the King complained of the 
 confusion which happened in the procession. The great officer who pre- 
 sided told his Majesty that ' it should not be so next time.' 
 
 6i
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 sooner than you think for, for I've been very unwell this while 
 past, and don't reckon anyway I'm long for this world.' 
 
 'At this Judy takes up the corner of her af>ron, and puts it first to one eye 
 and then to t'other.' 
 
 Copyright 1894 by MacmiUan and Co. 
 
 At this Judy takes up the corner of her apron, and puts 
 it first to one eye and then to t'other, being to all appearance 
 in great trouble ; and my shister put in her word, and bid 
 
 62
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 his honour have a good heart, for she was sure it was only 
 the gout that Sir Patrick used to have flying about him, and 
 he ought to drink a glass or a bottle extraordinary to keep it 
 out of his stomach ; and he promised to take her advice, and 
 sent out for more spirits immediately; and Judy made a sign 
 to me, and I went over to the door to her, and she said, ' I 
 wonder to see Sir Condy so low : has he heard the news ?' 
 
 ' What news ?' says I. 
 
 'Didn't ye hear it, then?' says she ; 'my Lady Rackrent 
 that was is kilt x and lying for dead, and I don't doubt but it's 
 all over with her by this time.' 
 
 ' Mercy on us all,' says I ; ' how was it ? ' 
 
 ' The jaunting - car it was that ran away with her,' says 
 Judy. ' I was coming home that same time from Biddy 
 M'Guggin's marriage, and a great crowd of people too 
 upon the road, coming from the fair of Crookaghnawaturgh, 
 and I sees a jaunting-car standing in the middle of the 
 road, and with the two wheels off and all tattered. " What's 
 this ?" says I. " Didn't ye hear of it ?" says they that were 
 looking on ; " it's my Lady Rackrent's car, that was running 
 away from her husband, and the horse took fright at a 
 carrion that lay across the road, and so ran away with the 
 jaunting-car, and my Lady Rackrent and her maid screaming, 
 and the horse ran with them against a car that was coming 
 from the fair with the boy asleep on it, and the lady's petti- 
 coat hanging out of the jaunting-car caught, and she was 
 dragged I can't tell you how far upon the road, and it all 
 broken up with the stones just going to be pounded, and one 
 of the road-makers, with his sledge-hammer in his hand, stops 
 the horse at the last ; but my Lady Rackrent was all kilt and 
 smashed, 2 and they lifted her into a cabin hard by, and the 
 maid was found after where she had been thrown in the 
 
 1 See Glossary. 
 
 2 Kilt and smashed. — Our author is not here guilty of an anti-climax. 
 The mere English reader, from a similarity of sound between the words 
 1 kilt' and ' killed,' might be induced to suppose that their meanings are 
 similar, yet they are not by any means in Ireland synonymous terms. 
 Thus you may hear a man exclaim, ' I'm kilt and murdered ! ' but he fre- 
 quently means only that he has received a black eye or a slight contusion. 
 ' I'm kilt all over' means that he is in a worse state than being simply 
 ' kilt.' Thus, ' I'm kilt with the cold,' is nothing to ' I'm kilt all over with 
 the rheumatism.' 
 
 63
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 gripe of a ditch, her cap and bonnet all full of bog water, 
 and they say my lady can't live anyway." Thady, pray now 
 is it true what I'm told for sartain, that Sir Condy has made 
 over all to your son Jason V 
 
 'All,' says I. 
 
 'All entirely?' says she again. 
 
 ' All entirely,' says I. 
 
 ' Then,' says she, ' that's a great shame ; but don't be telling 
 Jason what I say.' 
 
 ' And what is it you say ?' cries Sir Condy, leaning over 
 betwixt us, which made Judy start greatly. ' I know the time 
 when Judy M 'Quirk would never have stayed so long talking 
 at the door and I in the house.' 
 
 ' Oh !' says Judy, 'for shame, Sir Condy; times are altered 
 since then, and it's my Lady Rackrent you ought to be thinking 
 of.' 
 
 ' And why should I be thinking of her, that's not thinking 
 of me now ?' says Sir Condy. 
 
 ' No matter for that,' says Judy, very properly ; ' it's time 
 you should be thinking of her, if ever you mean to do it at all, 
 for don't you know she's lying for death ? ' 
 
 'My Lady Rackrent !' says Sir Condy, in a surprise ; ' why 
 it's but two days since we parted, as you very well know, 
 Thady, in her full health and spirits, and she, and her maid 
 along with her, going to Mount Juliet's Town on her jaunting- 
 car.' 
 
 ' She'll never ride no more on her jaunting-car,' said Judy, 
 ' for it has been the death of her, sure enough.' 
 
 ' And is she dead then ?' says his honour. 
 
 ' As good as dead, I hear,' says Judy ; ' but there's Thady 
 here as just learnt the whole truth of the story as I had it, 
 and it's fitter he or anybody else should be telling it you than 
 I, Sir Condy : I must be going home to the childer.' 
 
 But he stops her, but rather from civility in him, as I could 
 see very plainly, than anything else, for Judy was, as his honour 
 remarked at her first coming in, greatly changed, and little 
 likely, as far as I could see — though she did not seem to be 
 clear of it herself — little likely to be my Lady Rackrent now, 
 should there be a second toss-up to be made. But I told him 
 the whole story out of the face, just as Judy had told it to me, 
 and he sent off a messenger with his compliments to Mount 
 
 64
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Juliet's Town that evening, to learn the truth of the report, and 
 Judy bid the boy that was going call in at Tim M'Enerney's 
 shop in O'Shaughlin's Town and buy her a new shawl. 
 
 ' Do so,' said Sir Condy, ' and tell Tim to take no money 
 from you, for I must pay him for the shawl myself.' At this 
 my shister throws me over a look, and I says nothing, but 
 turned the tobacco in my mouth, whilst Judy began making 
 a many words about it, and saying how she could not be 
 beholden for shawls to any gentleman. I left her there to 
 consult with my shister, did she think there was anything in it, 
 and my shister thought I was blind to be asking her the 
 question, and I thought my shister must see more into it than 
 I did, and recollecting all past times and everything, I 
 changed my mind, and came over to her way of thinking, and 
 we settled it that Judy was very like to be my Lady Rackrent 
 after all, if a vacancy should have happened. 
 
 The next day, before his honour was up, somebody comes 
 with a double knock at the door, and I was greatly surprised 
 to see it was my son Jason. 
 
 ' Jason, is it you ?' said I ; ' what brings you to the Lodge ? ' 
 says I. ' Is it my Lady Rackrent ? We know that already 
 since yesterday.' 
 
 ' Maybe so,' says he ; ' but I must see Sir Condy about it.' 
 
 ' You can't see him yet,' says I ; ' sure he is not awake.' 
 
 ' What then,' says he, ' can't he be wakened, and I standing 
 at the door ? ' 
 
 ' I'll not be disturbing his honour for you, Jason,' says I ; 
 ' many's the hour you've waited in your time, and been proud 
 to do it, till his honour was at leisure to speak to you. His 
 honour,' says I, raising my voice, at which his honour wakens 
 of his own accord, and calls to me from the room to know 
 who it was I was speaking to. Jason made no more ceremony, 
 but follows me into the room. 
 
 'How are you, Sir Condy?' says he; 'I'm happy to see 
 you looking so well ; I came up to know how you did to-day, 
 and to see did you want for anything at the Lodge.' 
 
 ' Nothing at all, Mr. Jason, I thank you,' says he ; for his 
 honour had his own share of pride, and did not choose, after 
 all that had passed, to be beholden, I suppose, to my son ; ' but 
 pray take a chair and be seated, Mr. Jason.' 
 
 Jason sat him down upon the chest, for chair there was 
 65 F
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 none, and after he had set there some time, and a silence 
 on all sides, 
 
 ' What news is there stirring in the country, Mr. Jason 
 M 'Quirk ?' says Sir Condy, very easy, yet high like. 
 
 ' None that's news to you, Sir Condy, I hear,' says Jason. 
 1 1 am sorry to hear of my Lady Rackrent's accident.' 
 
 ' I'm much obliged to you, and so is her ladyship, I'm sure,' 
 answered Sir Condy, still stiff; and there was another sort of 
 a silence, which seemed to lie the heaviest on my son Jason. 
 
 1 Sir Condy,' says he at last, seeing Sir Condy disposing 
 himself to go to sleep again, ' Sir Condy, I daresay you 
 recollect mentioning to me the little memorandum you gave to 
 Lady Rackrent about the ^500 a year jointure.' 
 
 1 Very true,' said Sir Condy ; ' it is all in my recollection.' 
 
 ' But if my Lady Rackrent dies, there's an end of all 
 jointure,' says Jason. 
 
 ' Of course,' says Sir Condy. 
 
 ' But it's not a matter of certainty that my Lady Rackrent 
 won't recover,' says Jason. 
 
 • Very true, sir,' says my master. 
 
 ' It's a fair speculation, then, for you to consider what 
 the chance of the jointure of those lands, when out of custodiam, 
 will be to you.' 
 
 ' Just five hundred a year, I take it, without any speculation 
 at all,' said Sir Condy. 
 
 ' That's supposing the life dropt, and the custodiam off, you 
 know ; begging your pardon, Sir Condy, who understands 
 business, that is a wrong calculation.' 
 
 ' Very likely so,' said Sir Condy ; ' but, Mr. Jason, if you have 
 anything to say to me this morning about it, I'd be obliged to 
 you to say it, for I had an indifferent night's rest last night, 
 and wouldn't be sorry to sleep a little this morning.' 
 
 ' I have only three words to say, and those more of conse- 
 quence to you, Sir Condy, than me. You are a little cool, I 
 observe ; but I hope you will not be offended at what I have 
 brought here in my pocket,' and he pulls out two long rolls, 
 and showers down golden guineas upon the bed. 
 
 'What's this?' said Sir Condy; 'it's long since' — but his 
 pride stops him. 
 
 ' All these are your lawful property this minute, Sir Condy, 
 if you please,' said Jason. 
 
 66
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' Not for nothing, I'm sure,' said Sir Condy, and laughs a 
 little. ' Nothing for nothing, or I'm under a mistake with you, 
 Jason.' 
 
 ' Oh, Sir Condy, we'll not be indulging ourselves in any 
 unpleasant retrospects,' says Jason ; ' it's my present intention 
 to behave, as I'm sure you will, like a gentleman in this affair. 
 Here's two hundred guineas, and a third I mean to add if you 
 should think proper to make over to me all your right and 
 title to those lands that you know of.' 
 
 • I'll consider of it,' said my master ; and a great deal more, 
 that I was tired listening to, was said by Jason, and all that, 
 and the sight of the ready cash upon the bed, worked with 
 his honour ; and the short and the long of it was, Sir Condy 
 gathered up the golden guineas, and tied them up in a handker- 
 chief, and signed some paper Jason brought with him as usual, 
 and there was an end of the business : Jason took himself away, 
 and my master turned himself round and fell asleep again. 
 
 I soon found what had put Jason in such a hurry to 
 conclude this business. The little gossoon we had sent off 
 the day before with my master's compliments to Mount Juliet's 
 Town, and to know how my lady did after her accident, was 
 stopped early this morning, coming back with his answer 
 through O'Shaughlin's Town, at Castle Rackrent, by my son 
 Jason, and questioned of all he knew of my lady from the 
 servant at Mount Juliet's Town ; and the gossoon told him my 
 Lady Rackrent was not expected to live over night ; so Jason 
 thought it high time to be moving to the Lodge, to make his 
 bargain with my master about the jointure afore it should be 
 too late, and afore the little gossoon should reach us with the 
 news. My master was greatly vexed — that is, I may say, as 
 much as ever I seen him — when he found how he had been 
 taken in ; but it was some comfort to have the ready cash for 
 immediate consumption in the house, anyway. 
 
 And when Judy came up that evening, and brought the 
 childer to see his honour, he unties the handkerchief, and — God 
 bless him ! whether it was little or much he had, 'twas all the 
 same with him — he gives 'em all round guineas apiece. 
 
 ' Hold up your head,' says my shister to Judy, as Sir Condy 
 was busy filling out a glass of punch for her eldest boy — 
 ' Hold up your head, Judy ; for who knows but we may live to 
 sec you yet at the head of the Castle Rackrent estate ? ' 
 
 67
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 ' Maybe so,' says she, ' but not the way you are thinking of.' 
 
 I did not rightly understand which way Judy was looking 
 when she made this speech till a while after. 
 
 ' Why, Thady, you were telling me yesterday that Sir 
 Condy had sold all entirely to Jason, and where then does all 
 them guineas in the handkerchief come from ? ' 
 
 ' They are the purchase-money of my lady's jointure,' says I. 
 
 Judy looks a little bit puzzled at this. ' A penny for your 
 thoughts, Judy,' says my shister ; ' hark, sure Sir Condy is 
 drinking her health.' 
 
 He was at the table in the room, 1 drinking with the excise- 
 man and the gauger, who came up to see his honour, and we 
 were standing over the fire in the kitchen. 
 
 ' I don't much care is he drinking my health or not,' says 
 Judy ; ' and it is not Sir Condy I'm thinking of, with all your 
 jokes, whatever he is of me.' 
 
 ' Sure you wouldn't refuse to be my Lady Rackrent, Judy, 
 if you had the offer ? ' says I. 
 
 ' But if I could do better ! ' says she. 
 
 ' How better ? ' says I and my shister both at once. 
 
 ' How better ?' says she. ' Why, what signifies it to be my 
 Lady Rackrent and no castle ? Sure what good is the car, and 
 no horse to draw it ? ' 
 
 ' And where will ye get the horse, Judy ? ' says I. 
 
 ' Never mind that,' says she ; ' maybe it is your own son 
 Jason might find that.' 
 
 'Jason!' says I ; 'don't be trusting to him, Judy. Sir 
 Condy, as I have good reason to know, spoke well of you 
 when Jason spoke very indifferently of you, Judy.' 
 
 ' No matter,' says Judy ; ' it's often men speak the contrary 
 just to what they think of us.' 
 
 'And you the same way of them, no doubt,' answered I. 
 ' Nay, don't be denying it, Judy, for I think the better of ye 
 for it, and shouldn't be proud to call ye the daughter of a 
 shister's son of mine, if I was to hear ye talk ungrateful, and 
 anyway disrespectful of his honour.' 
 
 ' What disrespect,' says she, ' to say I'd rather, if it was my 
 luck, be the wife of another man ? ' 
 
 ' You'll have no luck, mind my words, Judy,' says I ; and all 
 I remembered about my poor master's goodness in tossing up 
 1 The room — the principal room in the house. 
 
 68
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 for her afore he married at all came across me, and I had a 
 choking in my throat that hindered me to say more. 
 
 ' Better luck, anyhow, Thady,' says she, ' than to be like 
 some folk, following the fortunes of them that have none 
 left' 
 
 ' Oh ! King of Glory ! ' says I, ' hear the pride and ungrati- 
 tude of her, and he giving his last guineas but a minute ago to 
 her childer, and she with the fine shawl on her he made her a 
 present of but yesterday ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, troth, Judy, you're wrong now,' says my shister, looking 
 at the shawl. 
 
 ' And was not he wrong yesterday, then,' says she, ' to be 
 telling me I was greatly altered, to affront me ? ' 
 
 ' But, Judy,' says I, ' what is it brings you here then at all 
 in the mind you are in ; is it to make Jason think the better of 
 you ? ' 
 
 1 I'll tell you no more of my secrets, Thady,' says she, 'nor 
 would have told you this much, had I taken you for such an 
 unnatural fader as I find you are, not to wish your own son 
 prefarred to another.' 
 
 1 Oh, troth, you are wrong now, Thady,' says my shister. 
 
 Well, I was never so put to it in my life : between these 
 womens, and my son and my master, and all I felt and 
 thought just now, I could not, upon my conscience, tell which 
 was the wrong from the right. So I said not a word more, 
 but was only glad his honour had not the luck to hear all 
 Judy had been saying of him, for I reckoned it would have 
 gone nigh to break his heart ; not that I was of opinion he 
 cared for her as much as she and my shister fancied, but the 
 ungratitude of the whole from Judy might not plase him ; and 
 he could never stand the notion of not being well spoken of or 
 beloved like behind his back. Fortunately for all parties 
 concerned, he was so much elevated at this time, there was 
 no danger of his understanding anything, even if it had reached 
 his ears. There was a great horn at the Lodge, ever since 
 my master and Captain Moneygawl was in together, that 
 used to belong originally to the celebrated Sir Patrick, his 
 ancestor ; and his honour was fond often of telling the story 
 that he learned from me when a child, how Sir Patrick 
 drank the full of this horn without stopping, and this was 
 what no other man afore or since could without drawing 
 
 69
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 breath. Now Sir Condy challenged the gauger, who seemed 
 to think, little of the horn, to swallow the contents, and had it 
 filled to the brim with punch ; and the gauger said it was 
 what he could not do for nothing, but he'd hold Sir Condy a 
 hundred guineas he'd do it. 
 
 1 Done,' says my master ; 'I'll lay you a hundred golden 
 guineas to a tester 1 you don't. 5 
 
 ' Done,' says the gauger ; and done and done's enough 
 between two gentlemen. The gauger was cast, and my master 
 won the bet, and thought he'd won a hundred guineas, but by 
 the wording it was adjudged to be only a tester that was his 
 due by the exciseman. It was all one to him ; he was as 
 well pleased, and I was glad to see him in such spirits 
 again. 
 
 The gauger — bad luck to him ! — was the man that next pro- 
 posed to my master to try himself, could he take at a draught 
 the contents of the great horn. 
 
 ' Sir Patrick's horn ! ' said his honour ; ' hand it to me : 
 I'll hold you your own bet over again I'll swallow it.' 
 
 ' Done,' says the gauger ; ' I'll lay ye anything at all you 
 do no such thing.' 
 
 ' A hundred guineas to sixpence I do,' says he ; ' bring me 
 the handkerchief.' I was loth, knowing he meant the handker- 
 chief with the gold in it, to bring it out in such company, and 
 his honour not very able to reckon it. ' Bring me the handker- 
 chief, then, Thady,' says he, and stamps with his foot ; so with 
 that I pulls it out of my greatcoat pocket, where I had put it for 
 safety. Oh, how it grieved me to see the guineas counting 
 upon the table, and they the last my master had ! Says Sir Condy 
 to me, ' Your hand is steadier than mine to-night, old Thady, and 
 that's a wonder ; fill you the horn for me.' And so, wishing 
 his honour success, I did ; but I filled it, little thinking of what 
 would befall him. He swallows it down, and drops like one 
 shot. We lifts him up, and he was speechless, and quite black 
 in the face. We put him to bed, and in a short time he 
 wakened, raving with a fever on his brain. He was shocking 
 either to see or hear. 
 
 1 Tester: sixpence; from the French word tete, a head — a piece of 
 silver stamped with a head, which in old French was called un testion, 
 and which was about the value of an old English sixpence. ' Tester' is 
 used in Shakspeare. 
 
 7
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 4 Judy ! Judy ! have you no touch of feeling ? Won't you 
 
 '■'Judy! Judy ! have you no touch of feeling* Won't you stay to help 
 
 us nurse hint t " ' 
 
 Copyright 1894 by MacmiUan and Co. 
 
 stay to help us nurse him ? ' says I to her, and she putting on 
 her shawl to go out of the house. 
 
 7i
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 'I'm frightened to see him,' says she, 'and wouldn't nor 
 couldn't stay in it; and what use? He can't last till the 
 morning.' With that she ran off. There was none but my 
 shister and myself left near him of all the many friends he 
 had. 
 
 The fever came and went, and came and went, and lasted five 
 days, and the sixth he was sensible for a few minutes, and said to 
 me, knowing me very well, ' I'm in a burning pain all withinside 
 of me, Thady.' I could not speak, but my shister asked him 
 would he have this thing or t'other to do him good ? ' No,' 
 says he, 'nothing will do me good no more,' and he gave a 
 terrible screech with the torture he was in ; then again a 
 minute's ease — 'brought to this by drink,' says he. 'Where 
 are all the friends ? — where's Judy ? Gone, hey ? Ay, Sir 
 Condy has been a fool all his days,' said he ; and there was 
 the last word he spoke, and died. He had but a very poor 
 funeral after all. 
 
 If you want to know any more, I'm not very well able to 
 tell you ; but my Lady Rackrent did not die, as was expected 
 of her, but was only disfigured in the face ever after by the fall 
 and bruises she got ; and she and Jason, immediately after 
 my poor master's death, set about going to law about that 
 jointure ; the memorandum not being on stamped paper, some 
 say it is worth nothing, others again it may do ; others say 
 Jason won't have the lands at any rate ; many wishes it so. 
 For my part, I'm tired wishing for anything in this world, 
 after all I've seen in it ; but I'll say nothing — it would be a 
 folly to be getting myself ill-will in my old age. Jason did not 
 marry, nor think of marrying Judy, as I prophesied, and I am 
 not sorry for it : who is ? As for all I have here set down from 
 memory and hearsay of the family, there's nothing but truth 
 in it from beginning to end. That you may depend upon, for 
 where's the use of telling lies about the things which every- 
 body knows as well as I do ? 
 
 The Editor could have readily made the catastrophe of Sir 
 Condy's history more dramatic and more pathetic, if he thought 
 it allowable to varnish the plain round tale of faithful Thady. 
 He lays it before the English reader as a specimen of manners 
 and characters which are perhaps unknown in England. 
 Indeed, the domestic habits of no nation in Europe were less 
 
 72
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 known to the English than those of their sister country, till 
 within these few years. 
 
 Mr. Young's picture of Ireland, in his tour through that 
 country, was the first faithful portrait of its inhabitants. All the 
 features in the foregoing sketch were taken from the life, and 
 they are characteristic of that mixture of quickness, simplicity, 
 cunning, carelessness, dissipation, disinterestedness, shrewdness, 
 and blunder, which, in different forms and with various success, 
 has been brought upon the stage or delineated in novels. 
 
 It is a problem of difficult solution to determine whether 
 a union will hasten or retard the amelioration of this country. 
 The few gentlemen of education who now reside in this country 
 will resort to England. They are few, but they are in nothing 
 inferior to men of the same rank in Great Britain. The best 
 that can happen will be the introduction of British manu- 
 facturers in their places. 
 
 Did the Warwickshire militia, who were chiefly artisans, 
 teach the Irish to drink beer ? or did they learn from the Irish 
 to drink whisky ? 
 
 73
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 Some friends, who have seen Thady's history since it has been printed, 
 have suggested to the Editor, that many of the terms and idiomatic 
 phrases, with which it abounds, could not be intelligible to the 
 English reader without further explanation. The Editor has 
 therefore furnished the following Glossary. 
 
 Page I. Monday morning. — Thady begins his memoirs of the 
 Rackrent Family by dating Monday morning, because no great 
 undertaking can be auspiciously commenced in Ireland on any 
 morning but Monday morning. ' Oh, please God we live till 
 Monday morning, we'll set the slater to mend the roof of the house. 
 On Monday morning we'll fall to, and cut the turf. On Monday 
 morning we'll see and begin mowing. On Monday morning, please 
 your honour, we'll begin and dig the potatoes,' etc. 
 
 All the intermediate days, between the making of such speeches 
 and the ensuing Monday, are wasted : and when Monday morning 
 comes, it is ten to one that the business is deferred to the next Monday 
 morning. The Editor knew a gentleman, who, to counteract this 
 prejudice, made his workmen and labourers begin all new pieces of 
 work upon a Saturday. 
 
 Page 3. Let alone the three kingdoms itself. — Let alone, in this 
 sentence, means put out of consideration. The phrase, let alone, 
 which is now used as the imperative of a verb, may in time become a 
 conjunction, and may exercise the ingenuity of some future etymologist. 
 The celebrated Home Tooke has proved most satisfactorily, that the 
 conjunction but comes from the imperative of the Anglo-Saxon verb 
 (beoulan) to be out ; also, that if comes from gif the imperative of the 
 Anglo-Saxon verb which signifies to give, etc. 
 
 Page 4. IVhillaluh. — Ullaloo, Gol, or lamentation over the dead — 
 
 Magnoque ululante tumultu. — Virgil. 
 
 Ululatibus omne 
 Implevere nemus. — Ovid. 
 
 A full account of the Irish Gol, or Ullaloo, and of the Caoinan or 
 
 74
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 Irish funeral song, with its first semichorus, second semichorus, full 
 chorus of sighs and groans, together with the Irish words and music, 
 may be found in the fourth volume of the Transactions of the Royal 
 Irish Academy. For the advantage of lazy readers, who would rather read 
 a page than walk a yard, and from compassion, not to say sympathy, 
 with their infirmity, the Editor transcribes the following passages : — 
 
 'The Irish have been always remarkable for their funeral lamenta- 
 tions ; and this peculiarity has been noticed by almost every traveller 
 who visited them ; and it seems derived from their Celtic ancestors, 
 the primaeval inhabitants of this isle. . . . 
 
 ' It has been affirmed of the Irish, that to cry was more natural to 
 them than to any other nation, and at length the Irish cry became 
 proverbial. . . . 
 
 ' Cambrensis in the twelfth century says, the Irish then musically 
 expressed their griefs ; that is, they applied the musical art, in which 
 they excelled all others, to the orderly celebration of funeral obsequies, 
 by dividing the mourners into two bodies, each alternately singing 
 their part, and the whole at times joining in full chorus. . . . 
 The body of the deceased, dressed in grave clothes, and ornamented 
 with flowers, was placed on a bier, or some elevated spot. The 
 relations and keepers (sitiging mourners) ranged themselves in two 
 divisions, one at the head, and the other at the feet of the corpse. 
 The bards and croteries had before prepared the funeral Caoinan. 
 The chief bard of the head chorus began by singing the first stanza, in 
 a low, doleful tone, which was softly accompanied by the harp : at 
 the conclusion, the foot semichorus began the lamentation, or Ullaloo, 
 from the final note of the preceding stanza, in which they were 
 answered by the head semichorus ; then both united in one general 
 chorus. The chorus of the first stanza being ended, the chief bard of 
 the foot semichorus began the second Gol or lamentation, in which he 
 was answered by that of the head ; and then, as before, both united in 
 the general full chorus. Thus alternately were the song and choruses 
 performed during the night. The genealogy, rank, possessions, the 
 virtues and vices of the dead were rehearsed, and a number of interro- 
 gations were addressed to the deceased; as, Why did he die? If 
 married, whether his wife was faithful to him, his sons dutiful, or good 
 hunters or warriors? If a woman, whether her daughters were fair or 
 chaste ? If a young man, whether he had been crossed in love ; or if 
 the blue-eyed maids of Erin treated him with scorn ? ' 
 
 We are told, that formerly the feet (the metrical feet) of the 
 Caoinan were much attended to ; but on the decline of the Irish bards 
 these feet were gradually neglected, and the Caoinan fell into a sort 
 of slipshod metre amongst women. Each province had different 
 Caoinans, or at least different imitations of the original. There was 
 the Munstcr cry, the Ulster cry, etc. It became an extempore per- 
 formance, and every set of keepers varied the melody according to 
 their own fancy. 
 
 75
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 It is curious to observe how customs and ceremonies degenerate. 
 The present Irish cry, or howl, cannot boast of such melody, nor is 
 the funeral procession conducted with much dignity. The crowd of 
 people who assemble at these funerals sometimes amounts to a 
 thousand, often to four or five hundred. They gather as the bearers 
 of the hearse proceed on their way, and when they pass through any 
 village, or when they come near any houses, they begin to cry — Oh ! 
 Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! Oh ! Agh ! Agh ! raising their notes from the first 
 Oh ! to the last Agh ! in a kind of mournful howl. This gives notice 
 to the inhabitants of the village that a funeral is passing, and im- 
 mediately they flock out to follow it. In the province of Munster it 
 is a common thing for the women to follow a funeral, to join in the 
 universal cry with all their might and main for some time, and then 
 to turn and ask — 'Arrah ! who is it that's dead? — who is it we're 
 crying for ? ' Even the poorest people have their own burying-places — 
 that is, spots of ground in the churchyards where they say that their 
 ancestors have been buried ever since the wars of Ireland ; and if 
 these burial-places are ten miles from the place where a man dies, his 
 friends and neighbours take care to carry his corpse thither. Always 
 one priest, often five or six priests, attend these funerals ; each priest 
 repeats a mass, for which he is paid, sometimes a shilling, sometimes 
 half a crown, sometimes half a guinea, or a guinea, according to their 
 circumstances, or, as they say, according to the ability of the deceased. 
 After the burial of any very poor man, who has left a widow or 
 children, the priest makes what is called a collection for the widow ; 
 he goes round to every person present, and each contributes sixpence 
 or a shilling, or what they please. The reader will find in the note 
 upon the word Wake, more particulars respecting the conclusion of 
 the Irish funerals. 
 
 Certain old women, who cry particularly loud and well, are in 
 great request, and, as a man said to the Editor, ' Every one would 
 wish and be proud to have such at his funeral, or at that of his 
 friends.' The lower Irish are wonderfully eager to attend the 
 funerals of their friends and relations, and they make their relation- 
 ships branch out to a great extent. The proof that a poor man has 
 been well beloved during his life is his having a crowded funeral. To 
 attend a neighbour's funeral is a cheap proof of humanity, but it does 
 not, as some imagine, cost nothing. The time spent in attending 
 funerals may be safely valued at half a million to the Irish nation ; the 
 Editor thinks that double that sum would not be too high an estimate. 
 The habits of profligacy and drunkenness which are acquired at wakes 
 are here put out of the question. When a labourer, a carpenter, or a 
 smith, is not at his work, which frequently happens, ask where he is 
 gone, and ten to one the answer is — ' Oh, faith, please your honour, 
 he couldn't do a stroke to-day, for he's gone to the funeral.' 
 
 Even beggars, when they grow old, go about begging for their own 
 funerals ; that is, begging for money to buy a coffin, candles, pipes, 
 
 76
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 and tobacco. For the use of the candles, pipes, and tobacco, see 
 Wake. 
 
 Those who value customs in proportion to their antiquity, and 
 nations in proportion to their adherence to ancient customs, will 
 doubtless admire the Irish Ullaloo, and the Irish nation, for per- 
 severing in this usage from time immemorial. The Editor, however, 
 has observed some alarming symptoms, which seem to prognosticate 
 the declining taste for the Ullaloo in Ireland. In a comic theatrical 
 entertainment, represented not long since on the Dublin stage, a 
 chorus of old women was introduced, who set up the Irish howl 
 round the relics of a physician, who is supposed to have fallen under 
 the wooden sword of Harlequin. After the old women have con- 
 tinued their Ullaloo for a decent time, with all the necessaiy 
 accompaniments of wringing their hands, wiping or rubbing their eyes 
 with the comers of their gowns or aprons, etc., one of the mourners 
 suddenly suspends her lamentable cries, and, turning to her neighbour, 
 asks, ' Arrah now, honey, who is it we're crying for ? ' 
 
 Page 5. The tenants were sent away without their whisky. — It is 
 usual with some landlords to give their inferior tenants a glass of 
 whisky when they pay their rents. Thady calls it their whisky ; 
 not that the whisky is actually the property of the tenants, but that 
 it becomes their right after it has been often given to them. In this 
 general mode of reasoning respecting rights the lower Irish are not 
 singular, but they are peculiarly quick and tenacious in claiming these 
 rights. ' Last year your honour gave me some straw for the roof of 
 my house and I expect your honour will be after doing the same this 
 year.' In this manner gifts are frequently turned into tributes. The 
 high and low are not always dissimilar in their habits. It is said, 
 that the Sublime Ottoman Forte is very apt to claim gifts as tributes : 
 thus it is dangerous to send the Grand Seignor a fine horse on his 
 birthday one year, lest on his next birthday he should expect a similar 
 present, and should proceed to demonstrate the reasonableness of his 
 expectations. 
 
 Fage 5. He demeaned himself greatly — means, he lowered or 
 disgraced himself much. 
 
 Fage 6. Duty fowls, duty turkeys, and duty geese. — In many leases 
 in Ireland, tenants were formerly bound to supply an inordinate 
 quantity of poultry to their landlords. The Editor knew of thirty 
 turkeys being reserved in one lease of a small farm. 
 
 Page 6. English tenants. — An English tenant does not mean a 
 tenant who is an Englishman, but a tenant who pays his rent the day 
 that it is due. It is a common prejudice in Ireland, amongst the 
 poorer classes of people, to believe that all tenants in England pay 
 
 77
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 their rents on the very day when they become due. An Irishman, 
 when he goes to take a farm, if he wants to prove to his landlord that 
 he is a substantial man, offers to become an English tenant. If a 
 tenant disobliges his landlord by voting against him, or against his 
 opinion, at an election, the tenant is immediately informed by the 
 agent that he must become an English tenant. This threat does not 
 imply that he is to change his language or his country, but that he 
 must pay all the arrear of rent which he owes, and that he must 
 thenceforward pay his rent on that day when it becomes due. 
 
 Page 6. Canting — does not mean talking or writing hypocritical 
 nonsense, but selling substantially by auction. 
 
 Page 6. Duty work. — It was formerly common in Ireland to insert 
 clauses in leases, binding tenants to furnish their landlords with 
 labourers and horses for several days in the year. Much petty 
 tyranny and oppression have resulted from this feudal custom. W hen- 
 ever a poor man disobliged his landlord, the agent sent to him for his 
 duty work ; and Thady does not exaggerate when he says, that the 
 tenants were often called from their own work to do that of their land- 
 lord. Thus the very means of earning their rent were taken from 
 them : whilst they were getting home their landlord's harvest, their 
 own was often ruined, and yet their rents were expected to be paid as 
 punctually as if their time had been at their own disposal. This 
 appears the height of absurd injustice. 
 
 In Esthonia, amongst the poor Sclavonian race of peasant slaves, 
 they pay tributes to their lords, not under the name of duty work, 
 duty geese, duty turkeys, etc., but under the name of righteousnesses. 
 The following ballad is a curious specimen of Esthonian poetry : — 
 
 This is the cause that the country is ruined, 
 
 And the straw of the thatch is eaten away, 
 
 The gentry are come to live in the land — 
 
 Chimneys between the village, 
 
 And the proprietor upon the white floor ! 
 
 The sheep brings forth a lamb with a white forehead, 
 
 This is paid to the lord for a righteousness sheep. 
 
 The sow farrows pigs, 
 
 They go to the spit of the lord. 
 
 The hen lays eggs, 
 
 They go into the lord's frying-pan. 
 
 The cow drops a male calf, 
 
 That goes into the lord's herd as a bull. 
 
 The mare foals a horse foal, 
 
 That must be for my lord's nag. 
 
 The boor's wife has sons, 
 
 They must go to look after my lord's poultry. 
 
 Page 7. Out of forty-nine suits which he had, he never lost one 
 78
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 but seventeen. — Thady's language in this instance is a specimen of a 
 mode of rhetoric common in Ireland. An astonishing assertion is 
 made in the beginning of a sentence, which ceases to be in the least 
 surprising, when you hear the qualifying explanation that follows. 
 Thus a man who is in the last stage of staggering drunkenness will, if 
 he can articulate, swear to you — ' Upon his conscience now, and may 
 he never stir from the spot alive if he is telling a lie, upon his con- 
 science he has not tasted a drop of anything, good or bad, since 
 morning at-all-at-all, but half a pint of whisky, please your honour.' 
 
 Page 7. Fairy Mounts — Barrows. It is said that these high 
 mounts were of great service to the natives of Ireland when Ireland 
 was invaded by the Danes. Watch was always kept on them, and 
 upon the approach of an enemy a fire was lighted to give notice to the 
 next watch, and thus the intelligence was quickly communicated 
 through the country. Some years ago, the common people believed 
 that these barrows were inhabited by fairies, or, as they called them, 
 by the good people. ' Oh, troth, to the best of my belief, and to the 
 best of my judgment and opinion,' said an elderly man to the Editor, 
 • it was only the old people that had nothing to do, and got together, 
 and were telling stories about them fairies, but to the best of my 
 judgment there's nothing in it. Only this I heard myself not very 
 many years back from a decent kind of a man, a grazier, that, as he 
 was coming just fair and easy (quietly) from the fair, with some cattle 
 
 and sheep, that he had not sold, just at the church of , at an 
 
 angle of the road like, he was met by a good-looking man, who asked 
 him where he was going ? And he answered, " Oh, far enough, I 
 must be going all night." " No, that you mustn't nor won't (says the 
 man), you'll sleep with me the night, and you'll want for nothing, nor 
 your cattle nor sheep neither, nor your beast (horse) ; so come along 
 with me." With that the grazier lit (alighted) from his horse, and it 
 was dark night ; but presently he finds himself, he does not know in 
 the wide world how, in a fine house, and plenty of everything to eat 
 and drink ; nothing at all wanting that he could wish for or think of. 
 And he does not mind (recollect or know) how at last he falls asleep ; 
 and in the morning he finds himself lying, not in ever a bed or a house 
 at all, but just in the angle of the road where first he met the strange 
 nnn : there he finds himself lying on his back on the grass, and all his 
 sheep feeding as quiet as ever all round about him, and his horse the 
 same way, and the bridle of the beast over his wrist. And I asked 
 him what he thought of it ; and from first to last he could think of 
 nothing, but for certain sure it must have been the fairies that enter- 
 tained him so well. For there was no house to see anywhere nigh 
 hand, or any building, or barn, or place at all, but only the church and 
 the mote (barrow). There's another odd thing enough that they tell 
 about this same church, that if any person's corpse, that had not a 
 right to be buried in that churchyard, went to be burying there in it, 
 
 79
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 no, not all the men, women, or childer in all Ireland could get the 
 corpse anyway into the churchyard ; but as they would be trying to 
 go into the churchyard, their feet would seem to be going backwards 
 instead of forwards ; ay, continually backwards the whole funeral 
 would seem to go ; and they would never set foot with the corpse in 
 the churchyard. Now they say that it is the fairies do all this ; but 
 it is my opinion it is all idle talk, and people are after being wiser now.' 
 
 The country people in Ireland certainly had great admiration 
 mixed with reverence, if not dread, of fairies. They believed that 
 beneath these fairy mounts were spacious subterraneous palaces, 
 inhabited by the good people, who must not on any account be 
 disturbed. When the wind raises a little eddy of dust upon the road, 
 the poor people believe that it is raised by the fairies, that it is a sign 
 that they are journeying from one of the fairies' mounts to another, 
 and they say to the fairies, or to the dust. as it passes, 'God speed ye, 
 gentlemen ; God speed ye.' This averts any evil that the good people 
 might be inclined to do them. There are innumerable stories told of 
 the friendly and unfriendly feats of these busy fairies ; some of these 
 tales are ludicrous, and some romantic enough for poetry. It is a 
 pity that poets should lose such convenient, though diminutive 
 machinery. By the bye, Parnell, who showed himself so deeply 
 'skilled in faerie lore,' was an Irishman ; and though he has presented 
 his fairies to the world in the ancient English dress of ' Britain's isle, 
 and Arthur's days,' it is probable that his first acquaintance with them 
 began in his native country. 
 
 Some remote origin for the most superstitious or romantic popular 
 illusions or vulgar errors may often be discovered. In Ireland, the 
 old churches and churchyards have been usually fixed upon as the 
 scenes of wonders. Now antiquaries tell us, that near the ancient 
 churches in that kingdom caves of various constructions have from 
 time to time been discovered, which were formerly used as granaries 
 or magazines by the ancient inhabitants, and as places to which they 
 retreated in time of danger. There is (p. 84 of the R. I. A. Trans- 
 actions for 1789) a particular account of a number of these artificial 
 caves at the west end of the church of Killossy, in the county of 
 Kildare. Under a rising ground, in a dry sandy soil, these sub- 
 terraneous dwellings were found : they have pediment roofs, and they 
 communicate with each other by small apertures. In the Brehon 
 laws these are mentioned, and there are fines inflicted by those laws 
 upon persons who steal from the subterraneous granaries. All these 
 things show that there was a real foundation for the stories which 
 were told of the appearance of lights, and of the sounds of voices, 
 near these places. The persons who had property concealed there, 
 very willingly countenanced every wonderful relation that tended to 
 make these places objects of sacred awe or superstitious terror. 
 
 Page 8. Weed-ashes. — By ancient usage in Ireland, all the weeds 
 80
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 on a farm belonged to the farmer's wife, or to the wife of the squire 
 who holds the ground in his own hands. The great demand for 
 alkaline salts in bleaching rendered these ashes no inconsiderable 
 perquisite. 
 
 Page 8. Sealing money. — Formerly it was the custom in Ireland 
 for tenants to give the squire's lady from two to fifty guineas as a 
 perquisite upon the sealing of their leases. The Editor not very 
 long since knew of a baronet's lady accepting fifty guineas as sealing 
 money, upon closing a bargain for a considerable farm. 
 
 Page 8. Sir Murtagh greiu mad — Sir Murtagh grew angry. 
 
 Page 8. The whole kitchen -was out on the stairs — means that all 
 the inhabitants of the kitchen came out of the kitchen, and stood upon 
 the stairs. These, and similar expressions, show how much the Irish 
 are disposed to metaphor and amplification. 
 
 Page 12. Fining doivn the year's rent. — When an Irish gentle- 
 man, like Sir Kit Rackrent, has lived beyond his income, and finds 
 himself distressed for ready money, tenants obligingly offer to take 
 his land at a rent far below the value, and to pay him a small sum 
 of money in hand, which they call fining down the yearly rent. The 
 temptation of this ready cash often blinds the landlord to his future 
 interest. 
 
 Page 12. Driver. — A man who is employed to drive tenants for 
 rent ; that is, to drive the cattle belonging to tenants to pound. The 
 office of driver is by no means a sinecure. 
 
 Page 12. / thought to make him a priest. — It was customary 
 amongst those of Thady's rank in Ireland, whenever they could get a 
 little money, to send their sons abroad to St. Omer's, or to Spain, to 
 be educated as priests. Now they are educated at Maynooth. The 
 Editor has lately known a young lad, who began by being a post-boy, 
 afterwards turn into a carpenter, then quit his plane and work-bench 
 to study his Humanities, as he said, at the college of Maynooth ; but 
 after he had gone through his course of Humanities, he determined to 
 be a soldier instead of a priest. 
 
 Page 14. Flam. — Short for flambeau. 
 
 Page 15. Barrack-room. — Formerly it was customary, in gentle- 
 men's houses in Ireland, to fit up one large bedchamber with a 
 number of beds for the reception of occasional visitors. These rooms 
 were called Barrack-rooms. 
 
 Page 15. An innocent — in Ireland, means a simpleton, an idiot. 
 
 Page 22. The Curragh — is the Newmarket of Ireland. 
 
 Si G
 
 GLOSSARY 
 Page 23. The cant. — The auction. 
 
 Page 27. And so should cut hint off for ever by levying a fine, and 
 suffering a recovery to dock the entail. — The English reader may 
 perhaps be surprised at the extent of Thady's legal knowledge, and at 
 the fluency with which he pours forth law-terms ; but almost every 
 poor man in Ireland, be he farmer, weaver, shopkeeper, or steward, 
 is, besides his other occupations, occasionally a lawyer. The nature 
 of processes, ejectments, custodiams, injunctions, replevins, etc., is 
 perfectly known to them, and the terms as familiar to them as to any 
 attorney. They all love law. It is a kind of lottery, in which every 
 man, staking his own wit or cunning against his neighbour's property, 
 feels that he has little to lose, and much to gain. 
 
 ' I'll have the law of you, so I will ! ' is the saying of an English- 
 man who expects justice. ' I'll have you before his honour,' is the 
 threat of an Irishman who hopes for partiality. Miserable is the life 
 of a justice of the peace in Ireland the day after a fair, especially if he 
 resides near a small town. The multitude of the kilt (kilt does not 
 mean killed, but hurt) and wounded who come before his honour with 
 black eyes or bloody heads is astonishing : but more astonishing is 
 the number of those who, though they are scarcely able by daily 
 labour to procure daily food, will nevertheless, without the least 
 reluctance, waste six or seven hours of the day lounging in the yard 
 or court of a justice of the peace, waiting to make some complaint 
 about — nothing. It is impossible to convince them that time is 
 money. They do not set any value upon their own time, and they 
 think that others estimate theirs at less than nothing. Hence they 
 make no scruple of telling a justice of the peace a story of an hour 
 long about a tester (sixpence) ; and if he grows impatient, they 
 attribute it to some secret prejudice which he entertains against 
 them. 
 
 Their method is to get a story completely by heart, and to tell it, 
 as they call it, out of the face, that is, from the beginning to the end, 
 without interruption. 
 
 'Well, my good friend, I have seen you lounging about these three 
 hours in the yard ; what is your business ? ' 
 
 ' Please your honour, it is what I want to speak one word to your 
 honour.' 
 
 ' Speak then, but be quick. What is the matter ? 
 
 ' The matter, please your honour, is nothing at-all-at-all, only just 
 about the grazing of a horse, please your honour, that this man here 
 sold me at the fair of Gurtishannon last Shrove fair, which lay down 
 three times with myself, please your honour, and kill me ; not to be 
 telling your honour of how, no later back than yesterday night, he lay 
 clown in the house there within, and all the childer standing round, 
 and it was God's mercy he did not fall a-top of them, or into the fire 
 to burn himself. So please your honour, to-day I took him back to 
 
 82
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 this man, which owned him, and after a great deal to do, I got the 
 mare again I swopped {exchanged) him for ; but he won't pay the 
 grazing of the horse for the time I had him, though he promised to 
 pay the grazing in case the horse didn't answer ; and he never did a 
 day's work, good or bad, please your honour, all the time he was with 
 me, and I had the doctor to him five times anyhow. And so, please 
 your honour, it is what I expect your honour will stand my friend, for 
 I'd sooner come to your honour for justice than to any other in all 
 Ireland. And so I brought him here before your honour, and expect 
 your honour will make him pay me the grazing, or tell me, can I 
 process him for it at the next assizes, please your honour ? ' 
 
 The defendant now turning a quid of tobacco with his tongue into 
 some secret cavern in his mouth, begins his defence with — 
 
 ' Please your honour, under favour, and saving your honour's 
 presence, there's not a word of truth in all this man has been saying 
 from beginning to end, upon my conscience, and I wouldn't for the 
 value of the horse itself, grazing and all, be after telling your honour 
 a lie. For, please your honour, I have a dependence upon your 
 honour that you'll do me justice, and not be listening to him or the 
 like of him. Please your honour, it's what he has brought me before 
 your honour, because he had a spite against me about some oats I sold 
 your honour, which he was jealous of, and a shawl his wife got at my 
 shister's shop there without, and never paid for ; so I offered to set the 
 shawl against the grazing, and give him a receipt in full of all demands, 
 but he wouldn't out of spite, please your honour ; so he brought me 
 before your honour, expecting your honour was mad with me for 
 cutting down the tree in the horse park, which was none of my doing, 
 please your honour — ill-luck to them that went and belied me to your 
 honour behind my back ! So if your honour is pleasing, I'll tell you 
 the whole truth about the horse that he swopped against my mare out 
 of the face. Last Shrove fair I met this man, Jemmy Duffy, please 
 your honour, just at the corner of the road, where the bridge is broken 
 down, that your honour is to have the presentment for this year — long 
 life to you for it ! And he was at that time coming from the fair of 
 Gurtish.innon, and I the same way. " How are you, Jemmy?" says 
 I. "Very well, I thank ye kindly, Bryan," says he ; "shall we turn 
 back to Paddy Salmon's and take a naggin of whisky to our better 
 acquaintance ? " "I don't care if I did, Jemmy," says I ; " only it is 
 what I can't take the whisky, because I'm under an oath against it 
 for a month." Ever since, please your honour, the day your honour 
 met me on the road, and observed to me I could hardly stand, I had 
 taken so much ; though upon my conscience your honour wronged me 
 greatly that same time — ill-luck to them that belied me behind my 
 back to your honour ! Well, please your honour, as I was telling you, 
 as he was taking the whisky, and we talking of one thing or t'other, 
 he makes me an offer to swop his mare that he couldn't sell at the fair 
 of Gurtishannon, because nobody would be troubled with the beast, 
 
 83
 
 GLOSSARY 
 
 please your honour, against my horse, and to oblige him I took the 
 mare — sorrow take her ! and him along with her ! She kicked me a 
 new car, that was worth three pounds ten, to tatters the first time I 
 ever put her into it, and I expect your honour will make him pay me 
 the price of the car, anyhow, before I pay the grazing, which I've no 
 right to pay at-all-at-all, only to oblige him. But I leave it all to 
 your honour ; and the whole grazing he ought to be charging for the 
 beast is but two and eightpence halfpenny, anyhow, please your 
 honour. So I'll abide by what your honour says, good or bad. I'll 
 leave it all to your honour.' 
 
 I'll leave it all to your honour — literally means, I'll leave all the 
 trouble to your honour. 
 
 The Editor knew a justice of the peace in Ireland who had such a 
 dread of having it all left to his honour, that he frequently gave the 
 complainants the sum about which they were disputing, to make peace 
 between them, and to get rid of the trouble of hearing their stories 
 out of the face. But he was soon cured of this method of buying off 
 disputes, by the increasing multitude of those who, out of pure regard 
 to his honour, came ' to get justice from him, because they would 
 sooner come before him than before any man in all Ireland.' 
 
 Page 38. A raking pot of tea. — We should observe, this custom 
 has long since been banished from the higher orders of Irish gentry. 
 The mysteries of a raking pot of tea, like those of the Bona Dea, are 
 supposed to be sacred to females ; but now and then it has happened 
 that some of the male species, who were either more audacious, or 
 more highly favoured than the rest of their sex, have been admitted 
 by stealth to these orgies. The time when the festive ceremony 
 begins varies according to circumstances, but it is never earlier than 
 twelve o'clock at night ; the joys of a raking pot of tea depending on 
 its being made in secret, and at an unseasonable hour. After a ball, 
 when the more discreet part of the company has departed to rest, a 
 few chosen female spirits, who have footed it till they can foot it no 
 longer, and till the sleepy notes expire under the slurring hand of the 
 musician, retire to a bedchamber, call the favourite maid, who alone is 
 admitted, bid her put down the kettle, lock the door, and amidst as 
 much giggling and scrambling as possible, they get round a tea-table, 
 on which all manner of things are huddled together. Then begin 
 mutual railleries and mutual confidences amongst the young ladies, 
 and the faint scream and the loud laugh is heard, and the romping for 
 letters and pocket-books begins, and gentlemen are called by their 
 surnames, or by the general name of fellows ! pleasant fellows ! 
 charming fellows ! odious fellows ! abominable fellows ! and then all 
 prudish decorums are forgotten, and then we might be convinced how 
 much the satirical poet was mistaken when he said — 
 
 There is no woman where there's no reserve. 
 84
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 The merit of the original idea of a raking pot of tea evidently 
 belongs to the washerwoman and the laundry-maid. But why should 
 not we have Low life above stairs as well as High life below stairs ? 
 
 P a g e 39- We gained the day by this piece of honesty. — In a dispute 
 which occurred some years ago in Ireland, between Mr. E. and Mr. M., 
 about the boundaries of a farm, an old tenant of Mr. M.'s cut a sod 
 from Mr. M.'s land, and inserted it in a spot prepared for its re- 
 ception in Mr. E. 's land ; so nicely was it inserted, that no eye could 
 detect the junction of the grass. The old man, who was to give his 
 evidence as to the property, stood upon the inserted sod when the 
 viewers came, and swore that the ground he then stood upon belonged 
 to his landlord, Mr. M. 
 
 The Editor had flattered himself that the ingenious contrivance 
 which Thady records, and the similar subterfuge of this old Irishman, 
 in the dispute concerning boundaries, were instances of Muteness 
 unparalleled in all but Irish story : an English friend, however, has 
 just mortified the Editor's national vanity by an account of the 
 following custom, which prevails in part of Shropshire. It is dis- 
 creditable for women to appear abroad after the birth of their children 
 till they have been churched. To avoid this reproach, and at the 
 same time to enjoy the pleasure of gadding, whenever a woman goes 
 abroad before she has been to church, she takes a tile from the roof of 
 her house, and puts it upon her head : wearing this panoply all the 
 time she pays her visits, her conscience is perfectly at ease ; for she 
 can afterwards safely declare to the clergyman, that she ' has never been 
 from under her own roof till she came to be churched.' 
 
 Page 41. Carton, and half-carton. — Thady means cartron, and 
 half-cartron. 'According to the old record in the black book of 
 Dublin, a cantred is said to contain 30 villatas terras, which are also 
 called quarters of land (quarterons, cartrons) ; every one of which 
 quarters must contain so much ground as will pasture 400 cows, and 
 17 plough-lands. A knighfs fee was composed of 8 hydes, which 
 amount to 100 acres, and that is generally deemed about a plough- 
 land. ' 
 
 The Editor was favoured by a learned friend with the above extract, 
 from a MS. of Lord Totness's in the Lambeth library. 
 
 Page 60. Wake. — A wake in England means a festival held upon 
 the anniversary of the saint of the parish. At these wakes, rustic 
 games, rustic conviviality, and rustic courtship, are pursued with all 
 the ardour and all the appetite which accompany such pleasures as 
 occur but seldom. In Ireland a wake is a midnight meeting, held pro- 
 fessedly for the indulgence of holy sorrow, but usually it is converted into 
 orgies of unholy joy. When an Irish man or woman of the lower 
 order dies, the straw which composed the bed, whether it has been 
 
 S5
 
 CASTLE RACKRENT 
 
 contained in a bag to form a mattress, or simply spread upon the 
 earthen floor, is immediately taken out of the house, and burned before 
 the cabin door, the family at the same time setting up the death howl. 
 The ears and eyes of the neighbours being thus alaimed, they flock to 
 the house of the deceased, and by their vociferous sympathy excite and 
 at the same time soothe the sorrows of the family. 
 
 It is curious to observe how good and bad are mingled in human 
 institutions. In countries which were thinly inhabited, this custom 
 prevented private attempts against the lives of individuals, and formed 
 a kind of coroner's inquest upon the body which had recently expired, 
 and burning the straw upon which the sick man lay became a simple 
 preservative against infection. At night the dead body is waked, that 
 is to say, all the friends and neighbours of the deceased collect in a 
 barn or stable, where the corpse is laid upon some boards, or an un- 
 hinged door, supported upon stools, the face exposed, the rest of the 
 body covered with a white sheet. Round the body are stuck in brass 
 candlesticks, which have been borrowed perhaps at five miles' distance, 
 as many candles as the poor person can beg or borrow, observing 
 always to have an odd number. Pipes and tobacco are first distributed, 
 and then, according to the ability of the deceased, cakes and ale, and 
 sometimes whisky, are dealt to the company — 
 
 Deal on, deal on, my merry men all, 
 
 Deal on your cakes and your wine, 
 For whatever is dealt at her funeral to-day 
 
 Shall be dealt to-morrow at mine. 
 
 After a fit of universal sorrow, and the comfort of a universal dram, 
 the scandal of the neighbourhood, as in higher circles, occupies the 
 company. The young lads and lasses romp with one another, and 
 when the fathers and mothers are at last overcome with sleep and 
 whisky {vino et somno), the youth become more enterprising, and are 
 frequently successful. It is said that more matches are made at wakes 
 than at weddings. 
 
 Page 63. Kilt. — This word frequently occurs in the preceding 
 pages, where it means not killed, but much hurt. In Ireland, not only 
 cowards, but the brave 'die many times before their death.' — There 
 killing is no murder. 
 
 86
 
 THE ABSENTEE
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 'Are you to be at Lady Clonbrony's gala next week?' said 
 Lady Langdale to Mrs. Dareville, whilst they were waiting for 
 their carriages in the crush-room of the opera house. 
 
 1 Oh yes ! everybody's to be there, I hear,' replied Mrs. Dare- 
 ville. ' Your ladyship, of course ? ' 
 
 ' Why, I don't know — if I possibly can. Lady Clonbrony 
 makes it such a point with me, that I believe I must look in 
 upon her for a few minutes. They are going to a prodigious 
 expense on this occasion. Soho tells me the reception rooms 
 are all to be new furnished, and in the most magnificent style.' 
 
 ' At what a famous rate those Clonbronies are dashing on,' 
 said Colonel Heathcock. ' Up to anything.' 
 
 ' Who are they ? — these Clonbronies, that one hears of so 
 much of late ? ' said her Grace of Torcaster. ' Irish absentees, 
 I know. But how do they support all this enormous expense ? ' 
 
 ' The son will have a prodigiously fine estate when some 
 Mr. Quin dies,' said Mrs. Dareville. 
 
 'Yes, everybody who comes from Ireland will have a fine 
 estate when somebody dies,' said her grace. ' But what have 
 they at present ? ' 
 
 ' Twenty thousand a year, they say,' replied Mrs. Dareville. 
 
 ' Ten thousand, I believe,' cried Lady Langdale. ' Make it 
 a rule, you know, to believe only half the world says.' 
 
 1 Ten thousand, have they ? — possibly,' said her grace. ' I 
 know nothing about them— have no acquaintance among the 
 Irish. Torcaster knows something of Lady Clonbrony ; she 
 has fastened herself, by some means, upon him : but I charge 
 him not to commit me. Positively, I could not for anybody — 
 
 89
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and much less for that sort of person — extend the circle of my 
 acquaintance. 5 
 
 ' Now that is so cruel of your grace,' said Mrs. Dareville, 
 laughing, ' when poor Lady Clonbrony works so hard, and 
 pays so high, to get into certain circles.' 
 
 ' If you knew all she endures, to look, speak, move, breathe 
 like an Englishwoman, you would pity her,' said Lady Lang- 
 dale. 
 
 ' Yes, and you cawnt conceive the fteens she teekes to talk of 
 the tcebles and cheers, and to thank Q, and, with so much ieeste, 
 to speak pure English,' said Mrs. Dareville. 
 
 ' Pure cockney, you mean,' said Lady Langdale. 
 
 1 But why does Lady Clonbrony want to pass for English ?' 
 said the duchess. 
 
 'Oh! because she is not quite Irish bred and born — only 
 bred, not born,' said Mrs. Dareville. 'And she could not be 
 five minutes in your grace's company before she would tell you, 
 that she was Henglish, born in Hoxfordshire? 
 
 ' She must be a vastly amusing personage. I should like to 
 meet her, if one could see and hear her incog.,' said the duchess. 
 ' And Lord Clonbrony, what is he ? ' 
 
 'Nothing, nobody,' said Mrs. Dareville;' 'one never even 
 hears of him.' 
 
 ' A tribe of daughters, too, I suppose ? ' 
 
 ' No, no,' said Lady Langdale, ' daughters would be past all 
 endurance.' 
 
 ' There's a cousin, though, a Grace Nugent,' said Mrs. 
 Dareville, ' that Lady Clonbrony has with her.' 
 
 ' Best part of her, too,' said Colonel Heathcock ; 'd — d fine 
 girl ! — never saw her look better than at the opera to-night ! ' 
 
 ' Fine complexion / as Lady Clonbrony says, when she 
 means a high colour,' said Lady Langdale. 
 
 ' Grace Nugent is not a lady's beauty,' said Mrs. Dareville. 
 ' Has she any fortune, colonel ?' 
 
 "Pon honour, don't know,' said the colonel. 
 
 ' There's a son, somewhere, is not there ? ' said Lady 
 Langdale. 
 
 ' Don't know, 'pon honour,' replied the colonel. 
 
 'Yes — at Cambridge — not of age yet,' said Mrs. Dareville. 
 ' Bless me ! here is Lady Clonbrony come back. I thought 
 she was gone half an hour ago ! ' 
 
 90
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Mamma,' whispered one of Lady Langdale's daughters, 
 leaning between her mother and Mrs. Dareville, ' who is that 
 gentleman that passed us just now ?' 
 
 ' Which way ? ' 
 
 ' Towards the door. There now, mamma, you can see him. 
 He is speaking to Lady Clonbrony— to Miss Nugent. Now 
 Lady Clonbrony is introducing him to Miss Broadhurst.' 
 
 ' I see him now,' said Lady Langdale, examining him 
 through her glass ; ' a very gentlemanlike-looking young man, 
 indeed.' 
 
 ' Not an Irishman, I am sure, by his manner,' said her 
 grace. 
 
 ' Heathcock ! ' said Lady Langdale, ' who is Miss Broad- 
 hurst talking to ? ' 
 
 1 Eh ! now really — 'pon honour — don't know,' replied 
 Heathcock. 
 
 'And yet he certainly looks like somebody one certainly 
 should know,' pursued Lady Langdale, ' though I don't 
 recollect seeing him anywhere before.' 
 
 ' Really now ! ' was all the satisfaction she could gain from 
 the insensible, immovable colonel. However, her ladyship, 
 after sending a whisper along the line, gained the desired 
 information, that the young gentleman was Lord Colambre, 
 son, only son, of Lord and Lady Clonbrony — that he was just 
 come from Cambridge— that he was not yet of age — that he 
 would be of age within a year — that he would then, after the 
 death of somebody, come into possession of a fine estate, by 
 the mother's side — ' and therefore, Cat'rine, my dear,' said 
 she, turning round to the daughter, who had first pointed him 
 out, ' you understand, we should never talk about other 
 people's affairs.' 
 
 • No, mamma, never. I hope to goodness, mamma, Lord 
 Colambre did not hear what you and Mrs. Dareville were 
 saying ! ' 
 
 ' How could he, child ? He was quite at the other end of 
 the world.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, ma'am, he was at my elbow, close 
 behind us ; but I never thought about him till I heard some- 
 body say, " My lord " ' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! I hope he didn't hear.' 
 
 ' But, for my part, I said nothing,' cried Lady Langdale. 
 
 91
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'And for my part, I said nothing but what everybody 
 knows ! ' cried Mrs. Dareville. 
 
 'And for my part, I am guilty only of hearing,' said the 
 duchess. ' Do, pray, Colonel Heathcock, have the goodness 
 to see what my people are about, and what chance we have of 
 getting away to-night.' 
 
 ' The Duchess of Torcaster's carriage stops the way ! ' — a 
 joyful sound to Colonel Heathcock and to her grace, and not 
 less agreeable, at this instant, to Lady Langdale, who, the 
 moment she was disembarrassed of the duchess, pressed 
 through the crowd to Lady Clonbrony, and, addressing her 
 with smiles and complacency, was ' charmed to have a little 
 moment to speak to her — could not sooner get through the 
 crowd — would certainly do herself the honour to be at her 
 ladyship's gala on Wednesday.' While Lady Langdale spoke, 
 she never seemed to see or think of anybody but Lady Clon- 
 brony, though, all the time, she was intent upon every motion 
 of Lord Colambre, and, whilst she was obliged to listen with 
 a face of sympathy to a long complaint of Lady Clonbrony's, 
 about Mr. Soho's want of taste in ottomans, she was vexed 
 to perceive that his lordship showed no desire to be introduced 
 to her, or to her daughters ; but, on the contrary, was 
 standing talking to Miss Nugent. His mother, at the end 
 of her speech, looked round for Colambre — called him twice 
 before he heard — introduced him to Lady Langdale, and to 
 
 Lady Cat'rine, and Lady Anne , and to Mrs. Dareville ; 
 
 to all of whom he bowed with an air of proud coldness, 
 which gave them reason to regret that their remarks upon his 
 mother and his family had not been made sotto voce. 
 
 ' Lady Langdale's carriage stops the way ! ' Lord 
 Colambre made no offer of his services, notwithstanding a 
 look from his mother. Incapable of the meanness of voluntarily 
 listening to a conversation not intended for him to hear, he 
 had, however, been compelled, by the pressure of the crowd, 
 to remain a few minutes stationary, where he could not avoid 
 hearing the remarks of the fashionable friends. Disdaining 
 dissimulation, he made no attempt to conceal his displeasure. 
 Perhaps his vexation was increased by his consciousness that 
 there was some mixture of truth in their sarcasms. He was 
 sensible that his mother, in some points — her manners, for 
 instance — was obvious to ridicule and satire. In Lady 
 
 92
 
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 Clonbrony's address there was a mixture of constraint, 
 affectation, and indecision, unusual in a person of her birth, 
 rank, and knowledge of the world. A natural and unnatural 
 manner seemed struggling in all her gestures, and in every 
 syllable that she articulated — a naturally free, familiar, good- 
 natured, precipitate, Irish manner, had been schooled, and 
 schooled late in life, into a sober, cold, still, stiff deportment, 
 which she mistook for English. A strong, Hibernian accent, 
 she had, with infinite difficulty, changed into an English tone. 
 Mistaking reverse of wrong for right, she caricatured the 
 English pronunciation ; and the extraordinary precision of 
 her London phraseology betrayed her not to be a Londoner, 
 as the man, who strove to pass for an Athenian, was detected 
 by his Attic dialect. Not aware of her real danger, Lady 
 Clonbrony was, on the opposite side, in continual apprehension, 
 every time she opened her lips, lest some treacherous a or e, 
 some strong r, some puzzling aspirate, or non-aspirate, some 
 unguarded note, interrogative or expostulatory, should betray 
 her to be an Irishwoman. Mrs. Dareville had, in her 
 mimickry, perhaps a little exaggerated as to the tecbles and 
 cheers, but still the general likeness of the representation of 
 Lady Clonbrony was strong enough to strike and vex her son. 
 He had now, for the first time, an opportunity of judging of 
 the estimation in which his mother and his family were held 
 by certain leaders of the ton, of whom, in her letters, she had 
 spoken so much, and into whose society, or rather into whose 
 parties, she had been admitted. He saw that the renegado 
 cowardice, with which she denied, abjured, and reviled her 
 own country, gained nothing but ridicule and contempt. 
 He loved his mother ; and, whilst he endeavoured to conceal 
 her faults and foibles as much as possible from his own heart, he 
 could not endure those who dragged them to light and ridicule. 
 The next morning the first thing that occurred to Lord 
 Colambre's remembrance when he awoke was the sound 
 of the contemptuous emphasis which had been laid on the 
 words IRISH absentees ! This led to recollections of his 
 native country, to comparisons of past and present scenes, to 
 future plans of life. Young and careless as he seemed, Lord 
 Colambre was capable of serious reflection. Of naturally 
 quick and strong capacity, ardent affections, impetuous temper, 
 the early years of his childhood passed at his father's castle in 
 
 93
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Ireland, where, from the lowest servant to the well-dressed 
 dependant of the family, everybody had conspired to wait 
 upon, to fondle, to flatter, to worship, this darling of their lord. 
 Yet he was not spoiled — not rendered selfish. For, in the 
 midst of this flattery and servility, some strokes of genuine 
 generous affection had gone home to his little heart ; and, 
 though unqualified submission had increased the natural 
 impetuosity of his temper, and though visions of his future 
 grandeur had touched his infant thought, yet, fortunately, 
 before he acquired any fixed habits of insolence or tyranny, 
 he was carried far away from all that were bound or willing 
 to submit to his commands, far away from all signs of 
 hereditary grandeur — plunged into one of our great public 
 schools — into a new world. Forced to struggle, mind and 
 body, with his equals, his rivals, the little lord became a 
 spirited schoolboy, and, in time, a man. Fortunately for him, 
 science and literature happened to be the fashion among a set 
 of clever young men with whom he was at Cambridge. His 
 ambition for intellectual superiority was raised, his views were 
 enlarged, his tastes and his manners formed. The sobriety 
 of English good sense mixed most advantageously with Irish 
 vivacity ; English prudence governed, but did not extinguish his 
 Irish enthusiasm. But, in fact, English and Irish had not been 
 invidiously contrasted in his mind : he had been so long resi- 
 dent in England, and so intimately connected with Englishmen, 
 that he was not obvious to any of the commonplace ridicule 
 thrown upon Hibernians ; and he had lived with men who 
 were too well informed and liberal to misjudge or depreciate a 
 sister country. He had found, from experience, that, however 
 reserved the English may be in manner, they are warm at 
 heart ; that, however averse they may be from forming new 
 acquaintance, their esteem and confidence once gained, they 
 make the most solid friends. He had formed friendships in 
 England ; he was fully sensible of the superior comforts, re- 
 finement, and information, of English society ; but his own 
 country was endeared to him by early association, and a sense 
 of duty and patriotism attached him to Ireland. And shall 
 I too be an absentee ? was a question which resulted from these 
 reflections — a question which he was not yet prepared to 
 answer decidedly. In the meantime, the first business of the 
 morning was to execute a commission for a Cambridge friend. 
 
 94
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Mr. Berryl had bought from Mr. Mordicai, a famous London 
 coachmaker, a curricle, "warranted sound, for which he had 
 paid a sound price, upon express condition that Mr. Mordicai, 
 barring accidents, should be answerable for all repairs of the 
 curricle for six months. In three, both the carriage and body 
 were found to be good for nothing — the curricle had been re- 
 turned to Mr. Mordicai — nothing had since been heard of it, 
 or from him — and Lord Colambre had undertaken to pay him 
 and it a visit, and to make all proper inquiries. Accord- 
 ingly, he went to the coachmaker's, and, obtaining no satis- 
 faction from the underlings, desired to see the head of the 
 house. He was answered, that Mr. Mordicai was not at 
 home. His lordship had never seen Mr. Mordicai ; but, just 
 then, he saw, walking across the yard, a man, who looked 
 something like a Bond Street coxcomb, but not the least like 
 a gentleman, who called, in the tone of a master, for ' Mr. 
 Mordicai's barouche ! ' It appeared ; and he was stepping 
 into it when Lord Colambre took the liberty of stopping him ; 
 and, pointing to the wreck of Mr. Berryl's curricle, now stand- 
 ing in the yard, began a statement of his friend's grievances, 
 and an appeal to common justice and conscience, which he, 
 unknowing the nature of the man with whom he had to deal, 
 imagined must be irresistible. Mr. Mordicai stood without 
 moving a muscle of his dark wooden face. Indeed, in his face 
 there appeared to be no muscles, or none which could move ; 
 so that, though he had what are generally called handsome 
 features, there was, all together, something unnatural and 
 shocking in his countenance. When, at last, his eyes turned, 
 and his lips opened, this seemed to be done by machinery, 
 and not by the will of a living creature, or from the impulse 
 of a rational soul. Lord Colambre was so much struck 
 with this strange physiognomy, that he actually forgot much 
 he had to say of springs and wheels. But it was no matter. 
 Whatever he had said, it would have come to the same thing ; 
 and Mordicai would have answered as he now did — 
 
 'Sir, it was my partner made that bargain, not myself; 
 and I don't hold myself bound by it, for he is the sleeping 
 partner only, and not empowered to act in the way of business. 
 Had Mr. Berryl bargained with me, I should have told him 
 that he should have looked to these things before his carriage 
 went out of our yard.' 
 
 95
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 The indignation of Lord Colambre kindled at these words 
 — but in vain. To all that indignation could by word or look 
 urge against Mordicai, he replied — 
 
 ' Maybe so, sir ; the law is open to your friend — the law is 
 open to all men who can pay for it.' 
 
 Lord Colambre turned in despair from the callous coach- 
 maker, and listened to one of his more compassionate-looking 
 workmen, who was reviewing the disabled curricle ; and, whilst 
 he was waiting to know the sum of his friend's misfortune, a 
 fat, jolly, Falstafif looking personage came into the yard, 
 accosted Mordicai with a degree of familiarity, which, from a 
 gentleman, appeared to Lord Colambre to be almost impossible. 
 
 ' How are you, Mordicai, my good fellow ? ' cried he, 
 speaking with a strong Irish accent. 
 
 ' Who is this ? ' whispered Lord Colambre to the foreman, 
 who was examining the curricle. 
 
 ' Sir Terence O'Fay, sir. There must be entire new 
 wheels.' 
 
 1 Now tell me, my tight fellow,' continued Sir Terence, 
 holding Mordicai fast, / when, in the name of all the saints, 
 good or bad, in the calendar, do you reckon to let us sport the 
 suicide ? ' 
 
 Mordicai forcibly drew his mouth into what he meant for a 
 smile, and answered, ' As soon as possible, Sir Terence.' 
 
 Sir Terence, in a tone of jocose, wheedling expostulation, 
 entreated him to have the carriage finished out of hand. 
 'Ah, now! Mordy, my precious! let us have it by the birth- 
 day, and come and dine with us o' Monday, at the Hibernian 
 Hotel — there's a rare one — will you ? ' 
 
 Mordicai accepted the invitation, and promised faithfully 
 that the suicide should be finished by the birthday. Sir 
 Terence shook hands upon this promise, and, after telling a 
 good story, which made one of the workmen in the yard — an 
 Irishman — grin with delight, walked off. Mordicai, first 
 waiting till the knight was out of hearing, called aloud — 
 
 ' You grinning rascal ! mind, at your peril, and don't let 
 that there carriage be touched, d'ye see, till further orders.' 
 
 One of Mr. Mordicai's clerks, with a huge long-feathered pen 
 behind his ear, observed that Mr. Mordicai was right in that 
 caution, for that, to the best of his comprehension, Sir Terence 
 O'Fay and his principal, too, were over head and ears in debt. 
 
 9 6
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Mordicai coolly answered that he was well aware of that ; 
 but that the estate could afford to dip further ; that, for his 
 part, he was under no apprehension ; he knew how to look 
 sharp, and to bite before he was bit. That he knew Sir 
 Terence and his principal were leagued together to give the 
 creditors the go by, but that, clever as they both were at that 
 work, he trusted he was their match. 
 
 1 Will you be so good, sir, to finish making out this estimate 
 for me ? ' interrupted Lord Colambre. 
 
 1 Immediately, sir. Sixty-nine pound four, and the perch. 
 
 Let us see Mr. Mordicai, ask him, ask Paddy, about 
 
 Sir Terence,' said the foreman, pointing back over his 
 shoulder to the Irish workman, who was at this moment 
 pretending to be wondrous hard at work. However, when 
 Mr. Mordicai defied him to tell him anything he did not know, 
 Paddy, parting with an untasted bit of tobacco, began, and 
 recounted some of Sir Terence O'Fay's exploits in evading 
 duns, replevying cattle, fighting sheriffs, bribing subs, managing 
 cants, tricking custodees, in language so strange, and with a 
 countenance and gestures so full of enjoyment of the jest, that, 
 whilst Mordicai stood for a moment aghast with astonish- 
 ment, Lord Colambre could not help laughing, partly at, and 
 partly with, his countryman. All the yard were in a roar of 
 laughter, though they did not understand half of what they 
 heard ; but their risible muscles were acted upon mechanically, 
 or maliciously, merely by the sound of the Irish brogue. 
 
 Mordicai, waiting till the laugh was over, dryly observed 
 that ' the law is executed in another guess sort of way in 
 England from what it is in Ireland'; therefore, for his part, 
 he desired nothing better than to set his wits fairly against 
 such sharks. That there was a pleasure in doing up a debtor 
 which none but a creditor could know. 
 
 ' In a moment, sir ; if you'll have a moment's patience, sir, 
 if you please,' said the slow foreman to Lord Colambre ; ' I 
 must go down the pounds once more, and then I'll let you 
 have it.' 
 
 ' I'll tell you what, Smithfield,' continued Mr. Mordicai, 
 coming close beside his foreman, and speaking very low, but 
 with a voice trembling with anger, for he was piqued by his 
 foreman's doubts of his capacity to cope with Sir Terence 
 O'Fay; * I'll tell you what, Smithfield, I'll be cursed, if I 
 
 97 H
 
 ' "No, sir, no!" cried Lord Colambre, holding Jinn the paper.' 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmitlan &• Co.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 don't get every inch of them into my power. You know 
 how ? ' 
 
 ' You are the best judge, sir,' replied the foreman ; ' but I would 
 not undertake Sir Terence ; and the question is, whether the 
 estate will answer the lot of the debts, and whether you 
 know them all for certain ? ' 
 
 ' I do, sir, I tell you. There's Green — there's Blancham — 
 there's Gray — there's Soho — naming several more — and, to 
 my knowledge, Lord Clonbrony ' 
 
 ' Stop, sir,' cried Lord Colambre in a voice which made 
 Mordicai, and everybody present, start — ' I am his son ' 
 
 ' The devil ! ' said Mordicai. 
 
 'God bless every bone in his body, then! — he's an Irish- 
 man, ' cried Paddy ; ' and there was the nzson my heart 
 warmed to him from the first minute he come into the yard, 
 though I did not know it till now.' 
 
 'What, sir! are you my Lord Colambre?' said Mr. 
 Mordicai, recovering, but not clearly recovering, his intellects. 
 ' I beg pardon, but I did not know you was Lord Colambre. 
 I thought you told me you was the friend of Mr. Berryl.' 
 
 ' I do not see the incompatibility of the assertion, sir,' 
 replied Lord Colambre, taking from the bewildered foreman's 
 unresisting hand the account, which he had been so long 
 furnishing. 
 
 ' Give me leave, my lord,' said Mordicai. ' I beg your 
 pardon, my lord, perhaps we can compromise that business 
 for your friend Mr. Berryl ; since he is your lordship's friend, 
 perhaps we can contrive to compromise and split the difference? 
 
 To compromise and. split the difference, Mordicai thought were 
 favourite phrases, and approved Hibernian modes of doing 
 business, which would conciliate this young Irish nobleman, 
 and dissipate the proud tempest which had gathered and now 
 swelled in his breast. 
 
 'No, sir, no!' cried Lord Colambre, holding firm the 
 paper. ' I want no favour from you. I will accept of none for 
 my friend or for myself.' 
 
 ' Favour ! No, my lord, I should not presume to offer 
 
 But I should wish, if you'll allow me, to do your friend justice.' 
 
 Lord Colambre recollecting that he had no right, in his 
 pride, to fling away his friend's money, let Mr. Mordicai look 
 at the account ; and, his impetuous temper in a few moments 
 
 99
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 recovered by good sense, he considered that, as his person 
 was utterly unknown to Mr. Mordicai, no offence could have 
 been intended to him, and that, perhaps, in what had been 
 said of his father's debts and distress, there might be more 
 truth than he was aware of. Prudently, therefore, controlling 
 his feelings, and commanding himself, he suffered Mr. 
 Mordicai to show him into a parlour, to settle his friend's 
 business. In a few minutes the account was reduced to 
 a reasonable form, and, in consideration of the partner's 
 having made the bargain, by which Mr. Mordicai felt himself 
 influenced in honour, though not bound in law, he undertook 
 to have the curricle made better than new again, for Mr. 
 Berryl, for twenty guineas. Then came awkward apologies to 
 Lord Colambre, which he ill endured. ' Between ourselves, 
 
 my lord,' continued Mordicai 
 
 But the familiarity of the phrase, ' Between ourselves ' — this 
 implication of equality— Lord Colambre could not admit ; he 
 moved hastily towards the door and departed. 
 
 ioo
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 patience, with which she at last accomplished her purpose, and 
 prevented Lady Clonbrony from doing anything preposterously 
 absurd, or exorbitantly extravagant. 
 
 Lord Colambre was actually sorry when the business was 
 ended — when Mr. Soho departed — for Grace Nugent was then 
 silent ; and it was necessary to remove his eyes from that 
 countenance, on which he had gazed unobserved. Beautiful 
 and graceful, yet so unconscious was she of her charms, that 
 the eye of admiration could rest upon her without her perceiving 
 it — she seemed so intent upon others as totally to forget herself. 
 The whole train of Lord Colambre's thoughts was so com- 
 pletely deranged that, although he was sensible there was 
 something of importance he had to say to his mother, yet, 
 when Mr. Soho's departure left him opportunity to speak, 
 he stood silent, unable to recollect anything but — Grace 
 Nugent. 
 
 When Grace Nugent left the room, after some minutes' 
 silence, and some effort, Lord Colambre said to his mother, 
 'Pray, madam, do you know anything of Sir Terence O'Fay?' 
 
 ' I ! ' said Lady Clonbrony, drawing up her head proudly ; 
 1 1 know he is a person I cannot endure. He is no friend of 
 mine, I can assure you — nor any such sort of person.' 
 
 ' I thought it was impossible ! ' cried Colambre, with exulta- 
 tion. 
 
 ' I only wish your father, Colambre, could say as much,' 
 added Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 Lord Colambre's countenance fell again ; and again he was 
 silent for some time. 
 
 ' Does my father dine at home, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' I suppose not ; he seldom dines at home.' 
 
 ' Perhaps, ma'am, my father may have some cause to be 
 uneasy about ' 
 
 'About?' said Lady Clonbrony, in a tone, and with a look 
 of curiosity which convinced her son that she knew nothing 
 of his debts or distresses, if he had any. ' About what ? ' 
 repeated her ladyship. 
 
 Here was no receding, and Lord Colambre never had 
 recourse to artifice. 
 
 'About his affairs, I was going to say, madam. But, since 
 you know nothing of any difficulties or embarrassments, I am 
 persuaded that none exist.' 
 
 i°5
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Nay, I caw?it tell you that, Colambre. There are difficulties 
 for ready money, I confess, when I ask for it, which surprise 
 me often. I know nothing of affairs — ladies of a certain rank 
 seldom do, you know. But, considering your father's estate, 
 and the fortune I brought him,' added her ladyship, proudly, 
 ' I cawnt conceive it at all. Grace Nugent, indeed, often talks 
 to me of embarrassments and economy ; but that, poor thing, 
 is very natural for her, because her fortune is not particularly 
 large, and she has left it all, or almost all, in her uncle and 
 guardian's hands. I know she's often distressed for odd money 
 to lend me, and that makes her anxious.' 
 
 ' Is not Miss Nugent very much admired, ma'am, in 
 London ? ' 
 
 ' Of course^in the company she is in, you know, she has 
 every advantage. And she has a natural family air of fashion 
 — not but what she would have got on much better, if, when 
 she first appeared in Lon'on, she had taken my advice, and 
 wrote herself on her cards Miss de Nogent, which would have 
 taken off the prejudice against the Irirism of Nugent, you 
 know ; and there is a Count de Nogent.' 
 
 ' I did not know there was any such prejudice, ma'am. 
 There may be among a certain set ; but, I should think, not 
 among well-informed, well-bred people.' 
 
 ' I big your pawdon, Colambre ; surely I, that was born in 
 England, an Henglish-woman baivn / must be well infaivmed 
 on this pint, anyway.' 
 
 Lord Colambre was respectfully silent. 
 
 ' Mother,' resumed he, ' I wonder that Miss Nugent is not 
 married ! ' 
 
 ' That is her own fau't, entirely ; she has refused very good 
 offers — establishments that, I own, I think, as Lady Langdale 
 says, I was to blame to allow her to let pass ; but young tedies, 
 till they are twenty, always think they can do better. Mr. 
 Martingale, of Martingale, proposed for her, but she objected 
 to him on account of he's being on the turf; and Mr. St. 
 Albans' £7000 a year — because — I reclly forget what — I 
 believe only because she did not like him — and something 
 about principles. Now there is Colonel Heathcock, one of the 
 most fashionable young men you see, always with the Duchess 
 of Torcaster and that set — Heathcock takes a vast deal of 
 notice of her, for him ; and yet, I'm persuaded, she would not 
 
 106
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 have him to-morrow, if he came to the pint, and for no reason, 
 reelly now, that she can give me, but because she says he's a 
 coxcomb, Grace has a tincture of Irish pride. But, for my 
 part, I rejoice that she is so difficult, for I don't know what I 
 should do without her.' 
 
 ' Miss Nugent is indeed — very much attached to you, 
 mother, I am convinced,' said Lord Colambre, beginning his 
 sentence with great enthusiasm, and ending it with great 
 sobriety. 
 
 ' Indeed then, she's a sweet girl, and I am very partial to 
 her, there's the truth,' cried Lady Clonbrony, in an undis- 
 guised Irish accent, and with her natural warm manner. But 
 a moment afterwards her features and whole form resumed 
 their constrained stillness and stiffness, and, in her English 
 accent, she continued — • 
 
 ' Before you put my idees out of my head, Colambre, I had 
 something to say to you — Oh ! I know what it was — we were 
 talking of embarrassments — and I wished to do your father the 
 justice to mention to you that he has been uncommon liberal 
 to me about this gala, and has reelly given me carte-blanche ; 
 and I've a notion — indeed I know— that it is you, Colambre, I 
 am to thank for this.' 
 
 ' Me !— ma'am ! ' 
 
 ' Yes ! Did not your father give you any hint ? ' 
 
 ' No, ma'am ; I have seen my father but for half an hour 
 since I came to town, and in that time he said nothing to me 
 — of his affairs.' 
 
 ' But what I allude to is more your affair.' 
 
 ' He did not speak to me of any affairs, ma'am — he spoke 
 only of my horses.' 
 
 ' Then I suppose my lord leaves it to me to open the matter 
 to you. I have the pleasure to tell you, that we have in view 
 for you — and I think I may say with more than the approba- 
 tion of all her family — an alliance- ' 
 
 ' Oh ! my dear mother ! you cannot be serious,' cried Lord 
 Colambre ; ' you know I am not of years of discretion yet — I 
 shall not think of marrying these ten years, at least.' 
 
 ' Why not ? Nay, my dear Colambre, don't go, I beg — I 
 am serious, I assure you — and, to convince you of it, I shall 
 tell you candidly, at once, all your father told me : that now 
 you've done with Cambridge, and are come to Lon'on, he 
 
 107
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 agrees with me in wishing that you should make the figure 
 you ought to make, Coiambre, as sole heir-apparent to the 
 Clonbrony estate, and all that sort of thing. But, on the other 
 hand, living in Lon'on, and making you the handsome allow- 
 ance you ought to have, are, both together, more than your 
 father can afford, without inconvenience, he tells me.' 
 
 ' I assure you, mother, I shall be content ' 
 
 ' No, no ; you must not be content, child, and you must 
 hear me. You must live in a becoming style, and make a 
 proper appearance. I could not present you to my friends 
 here, nor be happy, if you did not, Coiambre. Now the way 
 is clear before you : you have birth and title, here is fortune 
 ready made ; you will have a noble estate of your own when 
 old Quin dies, and you will not be any encumbrance or incon- 
 venience to your father or anybody. Marrying an heiress 
 accomplishes all this at once ; and the young lady is every- 
 thing we could wish, besides — you will meet again at the gala. 
 Indeed, between ourselves, she is the grand object of the 
 gala ; all her friends will come en masse, and one should wish 
 that they should see things in proper style. You have seen 
 the young lady in question, Coiambre — Miss Broadhurst. 
 Don't you recollect the young lady I introduced you to last 
 night after the opera ? ' 
 
 ' The little, plain girl, covered with diamonds, who was 
 standing beside Miss Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' In di'monds, yes. But you won't think her plain when 
 you see more of her — that wears off; I thought her plain, at 
 first — I hope ' 
 
 ' I hope,' said Lord Coiambre, ' that you will not take it 
 unkindly of me, my dear mother, if I tell you, at once, that I 
 have no thoughts of marrying at present — and that I never 
 will marry for money. Marrying an heiress is not even a new 
 way of paying old debts — at all events, it is one to which no 
 distress could persuade me to have recourse ; and as I must, 
 if I outlive old Mr. Quin, have an independent fortune, there is 
 no occasion to purchase one by marriage.' 
 
 'There is no distress, that I know of, in the case,' cried 
 Lady Clonbrony. ' Where is your imagination running, 
 Coiambre ? But merely for your establishment, your in- 
 dependence.' 
 
 ' Establishment, I want none — independence I do desire, 
 108
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 and will preserve. Assure my father, my dear mother, that I 
 
 * " Then, Colambre, you are very disobliging." ' 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan &• Co. 
 
 will not be an expense to him. I will live within the allowance 
 
 109
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 he made me at Cambridge — I will give up half of it — I will 
 do anything for his convenience — but marry for money, that I 
 cannot do.' 
 
 ' Then, Colambre, you are very disobliging,' said Lady 
 Clonbrony, with an expression of disappointment and dis- 
 pleasure ; ' for your father says, if you don't marry Miss 
 Broadhurst, we can't live in Lon'on another winter.' 
 
 This said — which, had she been at the moment mistress of 
 herself, she would not have let out — Lady Clonbrony abruptly 
 quitted the room. Her son stood motionless, saying to 
 himself — 
 
 ' Is this my mother ? — How altered ! ' 
 
 The next morning he seized an opportunity of speaking to 
 his father, whom he caught, with difficulty, just when he was 
 going out, as usual, for the day. Lord Colambre, with all the 
 respect due to his father, and with that affectionate manner 
 by which he always knew how to soften the strength of his 
 expressions, made nearly the same declarations of his resolu- 
 tion, by which his mother had been so much surprised and 
 offended. Lord Clonbrony seemed more embarrassed, but not 
 so much displeased. When Lord Colambre adverted, as 
 delicately as he could, to the selfishness of desiring from him 
 the sacrifice of liberty for life, to say nothing of his affections, 
 merely to enable his family to make a splendid figure in 
 London, Lord Clonbrony exclaimed, ' That's all nonsense ! 
 — cursed nonsense ! That's the way we are obliged to state 
 the thing to your mother, my dear boy, because I might talk 
 her deaf before she would understand or listen to anything 
 else. But, for my own share, I don't care a rush if London 
 was sunk in the salt sea. Little Dublin for my money, as Sir 
 Terence O'Fay says.' 
 
 ' Who is Sir Terence O'Fay, may I ask, sir ? ' 
 
 ' Why, don't you know Terry ? Ay, you've been so long at 
 Cambridge, I forgot. And did you never see Terry ? ' 
 
 ' I have seen him, sir — I met him yesterday at Mr. 
 Mordicai's, the coachmaker's.' 
 
 ' Mordicai's ! ' exclaimed Lord Clonbrony, with a sudden 
 blush, which he endeavoured to hide by taking snuff. ' He is 
 a damned rascal, that Mordicai ! I hope you didn't believe a 
 word he said — nobody does that knows him.' 
 
 ' I am glad, sir, that you seem to know him so well, and to
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 be upon your guard against him,' replied Lord Colambre ; 
 ' for, from what I heard of his conversation, when he was not 
 
 . bi a'iin.: <:■■ MM/ 
 
 ^L V^> ' ' " MordicaSs ! " exclaimed Lord Clonbrony, with a sudden 
 blush, which he endeavoured to hide by taking snuff.' 
 
 aware who I was, I am convinced he would do you any injury 
 in his power.' 
 
 HI
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' He shall never have me in his power, I promise him. We 
 shall take care of that. But what did he say ? ' 
 
 Lord Colambre repeated the substance of what Mordicai 
 had said, and Lord Clonbrony reiterated — ' Damned rascal ! 
 ■ — damned rascal ! I'll get out of his hands ; I'll have no more 
 to do with him.' But, as he spoke, he exhibited evident 
 symptoms of uneasiness, moving continually, and shifting from 
 leg to leg like a foundered horse. 
 
 He could not bring himself positively to deny that he had 
 debts and difficulties ; but he would by no means open the 
 state of his affairs to his son — ' No father is called upon to do 
 that,' said he to himself; 'none but a fool would do it.' 
 
 Lord Colambre, perceiving his father's embarrassment, 
 withdrew his eyes, respectfully refrained from all further in- 
 quiries, and simply repeated the assurance he had made to his 
 mother, that he would put his family to no additional expense ; 
 and that, if it was necessary, he would willingly give up half 
 his allowance. 
 
 ' Not at all — not at all, my dear boy, 5 said his father ; ' I 
 would rather cramp myself than that you should be cramped, 
 a thousand times over. But it is all my Lady Clonbrony's 
 nonsense. If people would but, as they ought, stay in their 
 own country, live on their own estates, and kill their own 
 mutton, money need never be wanting. 5 
 
 For killing their own mutton, Lord Colambre did not see 
 the indispensable necessity ; but he rejoiced to hear his father 
 assert that people should reside in their own country. 
 
 ' Ay,' cried Lord Clonbrony, to strengthen his assertion, as 
 he always thought it necessary to do, by quoting some other 
 person's opinion. ' So Sir Terence O'Fay always says, and 
 that's the reason your mother can't endure poor Terry. You 
 don't know Terry ? No, you have only seen him ; but, indeed, 
 to see him is to know him ; for he is the most off-hand, good 
 fellow in Europe. 5 
 
 ' I don't pretend to know him yet,' said Lord Colambre. 
 ' I am not so presumptuous as to form my opinion at first 
 sight.' 
 
 'Oh, curse your modesty ! ' interrupted Lord Clonbrony ; ' you 
 mean, you don't pretend to like him yet ; but Terry will make 
 you like him. I defy you not. I'll introduce you to him — him 
 to you, I mean — most warm-hearted, generous dog upon earth 
 
 112
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 — convivial — jovial — with wit and humour enough, in his own 
 way, to split you — split me if he has not. You need not cast 
 down your eyes, Colambre. "What's your objection ? ' 
 
 1 1 have made none, sir ; but, if you urge me, I can only say 
 that, if he has all these good qualities, it is to be regretted 
 that he does not look and speak a little more like a gentleman.' 
 
 ' A gentleman ! he is as much a gentleman as any of your 
 formal prigs — not the exact Cambridge cut, maybe. Curse 
 your English education ! 'Twas none of my advice. I 
 suppose you mean to take after your mother in the notion that 
 nothing can be good, or genteel, but what's English.' 
 
 ' Far from it, sir ; I assure you, I am as warm a friend to 
 Ireland as your heart could wish. You will have no reason, in 
 that respect at least, nor, I hope, in any other, to curse my 
 English education ; and, if my gratitude and affection can avail, 
 you shall never regret the kindness and liberality with which 
 you have, I fear, distressed yourself to afford me the means 
 of becoming all that a British nobleman ought to be.' 
 
 • Gad ! you distress me now ! ' said Lord Clonbrony, ' and 
 I didn't expect it, or I wouldn't make a fool of myself this way,' 
 added he, ashamed of his emotion, and whiffling it off. 'You 
 have an Irish heart, that I see, which no education can spoil. 
 But you must like Terry. I'll give you time, as he said to me, 
 when first he taught me to like usquebaugh. Good morning 
 to you ! ' 
 
 Whilst Lady Clonbrony, in consequence of her residence in 
 London, had become more of a fine lady, Lord Clonbrony, 
 since he left Ireland, had become less of a gentleman. Lady 
 Clonbrony, born an Englishwoman, disclaiming and disen- 
 cumbering herself of all the Irish in town, had, by giving 
 splendid entertainments, at an enormous expense, made her way 
 into a certain set of fashionable company. But Lord Clon- 
 brony, who was somebody in Ireland, who was a great person 
 in Dublin, found himself nobody in England, a mere cipher in 
 London. Looked down upon by the fine people with whom 
 his lady associated, and heartily weary of them, he retreated 
 from them altogether, and sought entertainment and self- 
 complacency in society beneath him — indeed, both in rank and 
 education, but in which he had the satisfaction of feeling him- 
 self the first person in company. Of these associates, the first 
 in talents, and in jovial profligacy, was Sir Terence O'Fay — a 
 
 H.1 I
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 man of low extraction, who had been knighted by an Irish 
 lord-lieutenant in some convivial frolic. No one could tell 
 a good story, or sing a good song better than Sir Terence ; 
 he exaggerated his native brogue, and his natural propensity 
 to blunder, caring little whether the company laughed at him 
 or with him, provided they laughed. ' Live and laugh — laugh 
 and live, 5 was his motto ; and certainly he lived on laughing, 
 as well as many better men can contrive to live on a thousand 
 a year. 
 
 Lord Clonbrony brought Sir Terence home with him next 
 day to introduce him to Lord Colambre ; and it happened 
 that on this occasion Terence appeared to peculiar disad- 
 vantage, because, like many other people, ' II gatoit l'esprit 
 qu'il avoit en voulant avoir celui qu'il n'avoit pas.' 
 
 Having been apprised that Lord Colambre was a fine 
 scholar, fresh from Cambridge, and being conscious of his 
 own deficiencies of literature, instead of trusting to his natural 
 talents, he summoned to his aid, with no small effort, all the 
 scraps of learning he had acquired in early days, and even 
 brought before the company all the gods and goddesses with 
 whom he had formed an acquaintance at school. Though 
 embarrassed by this unusual encumbrance of learning, he 
 endeavoured to make all subservient to his immediate design, 
 of paying his court to Lady Clonbrony, by forwarding the 
 object she had most anxiously in view — the match between her 
 son and Miss Broadhurst. 
 
 'And so, Miss Nugent,' said he, not daring, with all his 
 assurance, to address himself directly to Lady Clonbrony — 
 ' and so, Miss Nugent, you arc going to have great doings, 
 I'm told, and a wonderful grand gala. There's nothing in the 
 wide world equal to being in a good, handsome crowd. No 
 later now than the last ball at the Castle — that was before I left 
 Dublin, Miss Nugent— the apartments, owing to the popularity 
 of my lady-lieutenant, was so throng — so throng — that I 
 remember very well, in the doorway, a lady — and a very 
 genteel woman she was too, though a stranger to me — saying 
 to me, " Sir, your finger's in my car." " I know it, madam," 
 says I, " but I can't take it out till the crowd give me elbow 
 room." 
 
 1 But it's gala I'm thinking of now. I hear you are to have 
 the golden Venus, my Lady Clonbrony, won't you ? ' 
 
 114
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 • Sir ! ' 
 
 This freezing monosyllable notwithstanding, Sir Terence 
 pursued his course fluently. ' The golden Venus ! — Sure, Miss 
 Nugent, you, that are so quick, can't but know I would apos- 
 trophise Miss Broadhurst that is, but that won't be long so, I 
 hope. My Lord Colambre, have you seen much yet of that 
 young lady ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir.' 
 
 ' Then I hope you won't be long so. I hear great talk now 
 of the Venus of Medicis, and the Venus of this and that, with 
 the Florence Venus, and the sable Venus, and that other 
 Venus, that's washing of her hair, and a hundred other 
 Venuses, some good, some bad. But, be that as it will, my 
 lord, trust a fool — ye may, when he tells you truth — the 
 golden Venus is the only one on earth that can stand, or that 
 will stand, through all ages and temperatures ; for gold rules 
 the court, gold rules the camp, and men below, and heaven 
 above.' 
 
 ' Heaven above ! Take care, Terry ! Do you know what 
 you're saying?' interrupted Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 'Do I ? Don't I ?' replied Terry. 'Deny, if you please, 
 my lord, that it was for a golden pippin that the three 
 goddesses Jit — and that the Hippomenes was about golden 
 apples — and did not Hercules rob a garden for golden apples ? 
 — and did not the pious Eneas himself take a golden branch 
 with him, to make himself welcome to his father in hell?' 
 said Sir Terence, winking at Lord Colambre. 
 
 1 Why, Terry, you know more about books than I should 
 have suspected,' said Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Nor you would not have suspected me to have such a 
 great acquaintance among the goddesses neither, would you, 
 my lord ? But, apropos, before we quit, of what material, 
 think ye, was that same Venus's famous girdle, now, that made 
 roses and lilies so quickly appear ? Why, what was it, but a 
 girdle of sterling gold, I'll engage ?— for gold is the only true 
 thing for a young man to look after in a wife.' 
 
 Sir Terence paused, but no applause ensued. 
 
 ' Let them talk of Cupids and darts, and the mother of the 
 Loves and Graces. Minerva may sing odes and dythambrics, 
 or whatsoever her wisdomship pleases. Let her sing, or let 
 her say she'll never get a husband in this world or the other,
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 without she had a good thumping forlin, and then she'd go 
 off like wildfire.' 
 
 ' No, no, Terr)', there you're out ; Minerva has too bad a 
 character for learning to be a favourite with gentlemen,' said 
 Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Tut — Don't tell me ! — I'd get her off before you could 
 say Jack Robinson, and thank you too, if she had fifty 
 thousand down, or a thousand a year in land. Would you 
 have a man so d — d nice as to balk when house and land is 
 a-going — a-going — a-going ! — because of the encumbrance of 
 a little learning ? I never heard that Miss Broadhurst was 
 anything of a learned lady.' 
 
 'Miss Broadhurst!' said Grace Nugent; 'how did you 
 get round to Miss Broadhurst ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! by the way of Tipperary,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, my lord, it was apropos to a good 
 fortune, which, I hope, will not be out of your way, even if 
 you went by Tipperary. She has, besides ^100,000 in the 
 funds, a clear landed property of £ 10,000 per annum. Well / 
 some people talk of morality, and some of religion, but give me 
 a little snug PROPERTY. But, my lord, I've a little business 
 to transact this morning, and must not be idling and indulging 
 myself here.' So, bowing to the ladies, he departed. 
 
 ' Really, I am glad that man is gone,' said Lady Clonbrony. 
 ' What a relief to one's ears ! I am sure I wonder, my lord, 
 how you can bear to carry that strange creature always about 
 with you — so vulgar as he is.' 
 
 'He diverts me,' said Lord Clonbrony, 'while many of your 
 correct-mannered fine ladies or gentlemen put me to sleep. 
 What signifies what accent people speak in that have nothing 
 to say — hey, Colambre ? ' 
 
 Lord Colambre, from respect to his father, did not express 
 his opinion, but his aversion to Sir Terence O'Fay was stronger 
 even than his mother's ; though Lady Clonbrony's detestation 
 of him was much increased by perceiving that his coarse 
 hints about Miss Broadhurst had operated against her 
 favourite scheme. 
 
 The next morning, at breakfast, Lord Clonbrony talked of 
 bringing Sir Terence with him that night to her gala. She 
 absolutely grew pale with horror. 
 
 ' Good heavens ! Lady Langdale, Mrs. Dareville, Lady 
 116
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Pococke, Lady Chatterton, Lady D , Lady G , his 
 
 Grace of V ; what would they think of him ? And Miss 
 
 Broadhurst to see him going about with my Lord Clonbrony ! ' 
 — It could not be. No ; her ladyship made the most 
 solemn and desperate protestation, that she would sooner give 
 up her gala altogether — tie up the knocker — say she was sick 
 — rather be sick, or be dead, than be obliged to have such a 
 creature as Sir Terence O'Fay at her gala. 
 
 ' Have it your own way, my dear, as you have everything 
 else !' cried Lord Clonbrony, taking up his hat, and preparing 
 to decamp ; ' but, take notice, if you won't receive him you 
 need not expect me. So a good morning to you, my Lady 
 Clonbrony. You may find a worse friend in need, yet, than 
 that same Sir Terence O'Fay.' 
 
 ' I trust I shall never be in need, my lord,' replied her 
 ladyship. ' It would be strange, indeed, if I were, with the 
 fortune I brought.' 
 
 1 Oh ! that fortune of hers ! ' cried Lord Clonbrony, stopping 
 both his ears as he ran out of the room ; ' shall I never hear 
 the end of that fortune, when I've seen the end of it long 
 ago ?' 
 
 During this matrimonial dialogue, Grace Nugent and Lord 
 Colambre never once looked at each other. Grace was very 
 diligently trying the changes that could be made in the 
 positions of a china-mouse, a cat, a dog, a cup, and a Brahmin, 
 on the mantelpiece ; Lord Colambre as diligently reading the 
 newspaper. 
 
 ' Now, my dear Colambre,' said Lady Clonbrony, ' put down 
 the paper, and listen to me. Let me entreat you not to 
 neglect Miss Broadhurst to-night, as I know that the family 
 come here chiefly on your account.' 
 
 ' My dear mother, I never can neglect any deserving young 
 lady, and particularly one of your guests ; but I shall be careful 
 not to do more than not to neglect, for I never will pretend 
 what I do not feel.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Colambre, Miss Broadhurst is everything 
 you could wish, except being a beauty.' 
 
 ' Perhaps, madam,' said Lord Colambre, fixing his eyes on 
 Grace Nugent, ' you think that I can see no farther than a 
 handsome face ? ' 
 
 The unconscious Grace Nugent now made a warm eulogium 
 
 ii7
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 of Miss Broadhurst's sense, and wit, and independence of 
 character. 
 
 ' I did not know that Miss Broadhurst was a friend of 
 yours, Miss Nugent ? ' 
 
 ' She is, I assure you, a friend of mine ; and, as a proof, I 
 will not praise her at this moment. I will go farther still — I 
 will promise that I never will praise her to you till you begin 
 to praise her to me.' 
 
 Lord Colambre smiled, and now listened, as if he wished 
 that Grace should go on speaking, even of Miss Broadhurst. 
 
 ' That's my sweet Grace ! ' cried Lady Clonbrony. ' Oh ! 
 she knows how to manage these men — not one of them can 
 resist her ! ' 
 
 Lord Colambre, for his part, did not deny the truth of this 
 assertion. 
 
 ' Grace,' added Lady Clonbrony, ' make him promise to do 
 as we would have him.' 
 
 ' No ; promises are dangerous things to ask or to give,' 
 said Grace. ' Men and naughty children never make promises, 
 especially promises to be good, without longing to break them 
 the next minute.' 
 
 ' Well, at least, child, persuade him, I charge you, to make 
 my gala go off well. That's the first thing we ought to think 
 of now. Ring the bell ! And all heads and hands I put in 
 requisition for the gala.' 
 
 118
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The opening of her gala, the display of her splendid reception- 
 rooms, the Turkish tent, the Alhambra, the pagoda, formed a 
 proud moment to Lady Clonbrony. Much did she enjoy, and 
 much too naturally, notwithstanding all her efforts to be stiff 
 and stately, much too naturally did she show her enjoyment 
 of the surprise excited in some and affected by others on their 
 first entrance. 
 
 One young, very young lady expressed her astonishment so 
 audibly as to attract the notice of all the bystanders. Lady 
 Clonbrony, delighted, seized both her hands, shook them, and 
 laughed heartily ; then, as the young lady with her party 
 passed on, her ladyship recovered herself, drew up her head, 
 and said to the company near her — 
 
 ' Poor thing ! I hope I covered her little naivete properly ? 
 How new she must be !' 
 
 Then, with well-practised dignity, and half-subdued self- 
 complacency of aspect, her ladyship went gliding about — most 
 importantly busy, introducing my lady this to the sphynx 
 candelabra, and my lady that to the Trebisond trellice ; placing 
 some delightfully for the perspective of the Alhambra ; 
 establishing others quite to her satisfaction on seraglio ottomans ; 
 and honouring others with a seat under the statira canopy. 
 Receiving and answering compliments from successive crowds 
 of select friends, imagining herself the mirror of fashion, and 
 the admiration of the whole world, Lady Clonbrony was, for 
 her hour, as happy certainly as ever woman was in similar 
 circumstances. 
 
 Her son looked at her, and wished that this happiness could 
 last. Naturally inclined to sympathy, Lord Colambre re- 
 proached himself for not feeling as gay at this instant as the 
 
 119
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 occasion required. But the festive scene, the blazing lights, 
 the ' universal hubbub,' failed to raise his spirits. As a dead 
 weight upon them hung the remembrance of Mordicai's 
 denunciations ; and, through the midst of this Eastern magnifi- 
 cence, this unbounded profusion, he thought he saw future 
 domestic misery and ruin to those he loved best in the world. 
 
 The only object present on which his eye rested with 
 pleasure was Grace Nugent. Beautiful — in elegant and 
 dignified simplicity — thoughtless of herself — yet with a look 
 of thought, and with an air of melancholy, which accorded 
 exactly with his own feelings, and which he believed to arise 
 from the same reflections that had passed in his own mind. 
 
 ' Miss Broadhurst, Colambre ! all the Broadhursts ! ' said 
 his mother, wakening him, as she passed by, to receive them 
 as they entered. Miss Broadhurst appeared, plainly dressed — 
 plainly, even to singularity — without any diamonds or ornament. 
 
 ' Brought Philippa to you, my dear Lady Clonbrony, this 
 figure, rather than not bring her at all,' said puffing Mrs. 
 Broadhurst ; ' and had all the difficulty in the world to get her 
 out at all, and now I've promised she shall stay but half an 
 hour. Sore throat — terrible cold she took in the morning. I'll 
 swear for her, she'd not have come for any one but you.' 
 
 The young lady did not seem inclined to swear, or even to 
 say this for herself; she stood wonderfully unconcerned and 
 passive, with an expression of humour lurking in her eyes, and 
 about the corners of her mouth ; whilst Lady Clonbrony was 
 'shocked,' and 'gratified,' and 'concerned,' and 'flattered'; 
 and whilst everybody was hoping, and fearing, and busying 
 themselves about her — ' Miss Broadhurst, you'd better sit 
 here ! '— ' Oh, for Heaven's sake ! Miss Broadhurst, not there ! ' 
 ' Miss Broadhurst, if you'll take my opinion ; ' and ' Miss 
 Broadhurst, if I may advise ' 
 
 ' Grace Nugent ! ' cried Lady Clonbrony — ' Miss Broadhurst 
 always listens to you. Do, my dear, persuade Miss Broadhurst 
 to take care of herself, and let us take her to the inner little 
 pagoda, where she can be so warm and so retired — the very 
 thing for an invalid. Colambre ! pioneer the way for us, for 
 the crowd's immense.' 
 
 Lady Anne and Lady Catharine H , Lady Langdale's 
 
 daughters, were at this time leaning on Miss Nugent's arm, 
 and moved along with this party to the inner pagoda. There 
 
 120
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 was to be cards in one room, music in another, dancing in a 
 third, and, in this little room, there were prints and chess- 
 boards, etc. 
 
 ' Here you will be quite to yourselves,' said Lady Clonbrony ; 
 * let me establish you comfortably in this, which I call my 
 sanctuary — my snuggery — Colambre, that little table ! — Miss 
 Broadhurst, you play chess ? Colambre, you'll play with Miss 
 Broadhurst ' 
 
 'I thank your ladyship,' said Miss Broadhurst, 'but I 
 know nothing of chess, but the moves. Lady Catharine, you 
 will play, and I will look on.' 
 
 Miss Broadhurst drew her seat to the fire ; Lady Catharine 
 sat down to play with Lord Colambre ; Lady Clonbrony with- 
 drew, again recommending Miss Broadhurst to Grace Nugent's 
 care. After some commonplace conversation, Lady Anne 
 
 H , looking at the company in the adjoining apartment, 
 
 asked her sister how old Miss Somebody was, who passed by. 
 This led to reflections upon the comparative age and youthful 
 appearance of several of their acquaintance, and upon the care 
 with which mothers concealed the age of their daughters. 
 Glances passed between Lady Catharine and Lady Anne. 
 
 ' For my part,' said Miss Broadhurst, ' my mother would 
 labour that point of secrecy in vain for me ; for I am willing 
 to tell my age, even if my face did not tell it for me, to all 
 whom it may concern. I am past three-and-twenty — shall 
 be four-and-twenty the 5th of next July.' 
 
 ' Three-and-twenty ! Bless me ! I thought you were not 
 twenty ! ' cried Lady Anne. 
 
 ' Four-and-twenty next July ! — impossible ! ' cried Lady 
 Catharine. 
 
 ' Very possible,' said Miss Broadhurst, quite unconcerned. 
 
 ' Now, Lord Colambre, would you believe it ? Can you 
 believe it ? ' asked Lady Catharine. 
 
 'Yes, he can,' said Miss Broadhurst. ' Don't you see that 
 he believes it as firmly as you and I do ? Why should you 
 force his lordship to pay a compliment contrary to his better 
 judgment, or to extort a smile from him under false pretences ? 
 I am sure he sees that you, ladies, and I trust he perceives 
 that I, do not think the worse of him for this.' 
 
 Lord Colambre smiled now without any false pretence ; 
 and, relieved at once from all apprehension of her joining in 
 
 121
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 his mother's views, or of her expecting particular attention from 
 him, he became at ease with Miss Broadhurst, showed a desire 
 to converse with her, and listened eagerly to what she said. 
 He recollected that Grace Nugent had told him that this 
 young lady had no common character ; and, neglecting his 
 move at chess, he looked up at Grace as much as to say, 
 '•Draw her out, pray.' 
 
 But Grace was too good a friend to comply with that 
 request ; she left Miss Broadhurst to unfold her own character. 
 
 ' It is your move, my lord,' said Lady Catharine. 
 
 ' I beg your ladyship's pardon ' 
 
 ' Are not these rooms beautiful, Miss Broadhurst ? ' said 
 Lady Catharine, determined, if possible, to turn the conversa- 
 tion into a commonplace, safe channel ; for she had just felt, 
 what most of Miss Broadhurst's acquaintance had in their turn 
 felt, that she had an odd way of startling people, by setting 
 their own secret little motives suddenly before them. 
 
 ' Are not these rooms beautiful ? ' 
 
 ' Beautiful ! — Certainly.' 
 
 The beauty of the rooms would have answered Lady 
 Catharine's purpose for some time, had not Lady Anne impru- 
 dently brought the conversation back again to Miss Broad- 
 hurst. 
 
 ' Do you know, Miss Broadhurst,' said she, ' that if I had 
 fifty sore throats, I could not have refrained from my diamonds 
 on this GALA night ; and such diamonds as you have ! Now, 
 really, I could not believe you to be the same person we saw 
 blazing at the opera the other night ! ' 
 
 ' Really ! could not you, Lady Anne ? That is the very 
 thing that entertains me. I only wish that I could lay aside 
 my fortune sometimes, as well as my diamonds, and see how- 
 few people would know me then. Might not I, Grace, by the 
 golden rule, which, next to practice, is the best rule in the 
 world, calculate and answer that question ? ' 
 
 ' I am persuaded,' said Lord Colambre, ' that Miss Broad- 
 hurst has friends on whom the experiment would make no 
 difference.' 
 
 ' I am convinced of it,' said Miss Broadhurst ; 'and that is 
 what makes me tolerably happy, though I have the misfortune 
 to be an heiress.' 
 
 ' That is the oddest speech,' said Lady Anne. • Now I 
 
 122
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 should so like to be a great heiress, and to have, like you, such 
 thousands and thousands at command.' 
 
 'And what can the thousands upon thousands do forme? 
 Hearts, you know, Lady Anne, are to be won only by radiant 
 eyes. Bought hearts your ladyship certainly would not recom- 
 mend. They're such poor things — no wear at all. Turn them 
 which way you will, you can make nothing of them.' 
 
 ' You've tried then, have you ? ' said Lady Catharine. 
 
 ' To my cost. Very nearly taken in by them half a dozen 
 times ; for they are brought to me by dozens ; and they are so 
 made up for sale, and the people do so swear to you that it's 
 real, real love, and it looks so like it ; and, if you stoop to 
 examine it, you hear it pressed upon you by such elegant 
 oaths — By all that's lovely ! — By all my hopes of happiness ! 
 — By your own charming self ! Why, what can one do but 
 look like a fool, and believe ; for these men, at the time, all 
 look so like gentlemen, that one cannot bring oneself flatly to 
 tell them that they are cheats and swindlers, that they are 
 perjuring their precious souls. Besides, to call a lover a 
 perjured creature is to encourage him. He would have a 
 right to complain if you went back after that.' 
 
 'Oh dear ! what a move was there !' cried Lady Catharine. 
 ' Miss Broadhurst is so entertaining to-night, notwithstanding 
 her sore throat, that one can positively attend to nothing else. 
 And she talks of love and lovers too with such connoissance 
 defeat — counts her lovers by dozens, tied up in true-lovers' knots !' 
 
 ' Lovers ! — no, no ! Did I say lovers ? — suitors I should 
 have said. There's nothing less like a lover, a true lover, 
 than a suitor, as all the world knows, ever since the days of 
 Penelope. Dozens ! — never had a lover in my life ! And 
 fear, with much reason, I never shall have one to my mind.' 
 
 ' My lord, you've given up the game,' cried Lady Catharine ; 
 ' but you make no battle.' 
 
 ' It would be so vain to combat against your ladyship,' said 
 Lord Colambre, rising, and bowing politely to Lady Catharine, 
 but turning the next instant to converse with Miss Broadhurst. 
 
 ' But when I talked of liking to be an heiress,' said Lady 
 Anne, ' I was not thinking of lovers.' 
 
 ' Certainly. One is not always thinking of lovers, you know,' 
 added Lady Catharine. 
 
 1 Not always,' replied Miss Broadhurst. ' Well, lovers out 
 123
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 of the question on all sides, what would your ladyship buy with 
 the thousands upon thousands ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, everything, if I were you,' said Lady Anne. 
 
 ' Rank, to begin with,' said Lady Catharine. 
 
 ' Still my old objection — bought rank is but a shabby thing.' 
 
 ' But there is so little difference made between bought and 
 hereditary rank in these days,' said Lady Catharine. 
 
 ' I see a great deal still,' said Miss Broadhurst ; ' so much, 
 that I would never buy a title.' 
 
 'A title without birth, to be sure,' said Lady Anne, 'would 
 not be so well worth buying ; and as birth certainly is not to 
 be bought — ■ — ' 
 
 'And even birth, were it to be bought, I would not buy,' 
 said Miss Broadhurst, 'unless I could be sure to have with it 
 all the politeness, all the noble sentiments, all the magnanimity 
 — in short, all that should grace and dignify high birth.' 
 
 ' Admirable ! ' said Lord Colambre. Grace Nugent smiled. 
 
 ' Lord Colambre, will you have the goodness to put my 
 mother in mind I must go away ? ' 
 
 ' I am bound to obey, but I am very sorry for it,' said his 
 lordship. 
 
 ' Are we to have any dancing to-night, I wonder ? ' said Lady 
 Catharine. ' Miss Nugent, I am afraid we have made Miss 
 Broadhurst talk so much, in spite of her hoarseness, that Lady 
 Clonbrony will be quite angry with us. And here she comes ! ' 
 
 My Lady Clonbrony came to hope, to beg, that Miss Broad- 
 hurst would not think of running away ; but Miss Broad- 
 hurst could not be prevailed upon to stay. Lady Clonbrony 
 was delighted to see that her son assisted Grace Nugent most 
 carefully in sJiawling Miss Broadhurst ; his lordship conducted 
 her to her carriage, and his mother drew many happy auguries 
 from the gallantry of his manner, and from the young lady's 
 having stayed three-quarters, instead of half an hour — a circum- 
 stance which Lady Catharine did not fail to remark. 
 
 The dancing, which, under various pretences, Lady Clon- 
 brony had delayed till Lord Colambre was at liberty, began 
 immediately after Miss Broadhurst's departure ; and the 
 chalked mosaic pavement of the Alhambra was, in a few 
 minutes, effaced by the dancers' feet. How transient are all 
 human joys, especially those of vanity ! Even on this long 
 meditated, this long desired, this gala night, Lady Clonbrony 
 
 124
 
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 found her triumph incomplete — inadequate to her expectations. 
 For the first hour all had been compliment, success, and smiles ; 
 presently came the buts, and the hesitated objections, and the 
 ' damning with faint praise.' All that could be borne. Every- 
 body has his taste — and one person's taste is as good as 
 another's; and while she had Mr. Soho to cite, Lady Clonbrony 
 thought she might be well satisfied. But she could not be 
 satisfied with Colonel Heathcock, who, dressed in black, had 
 stretched his ' fashionable length of limb ' under the statira 
 canopy upon the snow-white swan-down couch. When, after 
 having monopolised attention, and been the subject of much 
 bad wit, about black swans and rare birds, and swans being 
 geese and geese being swans, the colonel condescended to 
 .rise, and, as Mrs. Dareville said, to vacate his couch, that 
 couch was no longer white— the black impression of the colonel 
 remained on the sullied snow. 
 
 ' Eh, now ! really didn't recollect I was in black,' was all 
 the apology he made. Lady Clonbrony was particularly vexed 
 that the appearance of the statira canopy should be spoiled 
 before the effect had been seen by Lady Pococke, and Lady 
 
 Chatterton, and Lady G , Lady P , and the Duke of 
 
 V , and a party of superlative fashionables, who had 
 
 promised to look in upon her, but who, late as it was, had not 
 yet arrived. They came in at last. But Lady Clonbrony had 
 no reason to regret for their sake the statira couch. It would 
 have been lost upon them, as was everything else which she 
 had prepared with so much pains and cost to excite their 
 admiration. They came resolute not to admire. Skilled in 
 the art of making others unhappy, they just looked round with 
 an air of apathy. 'Ah! you've had Soho! — Soho has done 
 wonders for you here ! — Vastly well ! — Vastly well !- — Soho's 
 very clever in his way ! ' 
 
 Others of great importance came in, full of some slight 
 accident that had happened to themselves, or their horses, or 
 their carriages ; and, with privileged selfishness, engrossed the 
 attention of all within their sphere of conversation. Well, 
 Lady Clonbrony got over all this, and got over the history of 
 a letter about a chimney that was on fire, a week ago, at the 
 
 Duke of V 's old house, in Brecknockshire. In gratitude 
 
 for the smiling patience with which she listened to him, his 
 Grace of V fixed his glass to look at the Alhambra, and 
 
 I2 5
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 had just pronounced it to be ' Well ! — very well ! ' when the 
 Dowager Lady Chatterton made a terrible discovery — a dis- 
 covery that filled Lady Clonbrony with astonishment and in- 
 dignation — Mr. Soho had played her false ! What was her 
 mortification when the dowager assured her that these 
 identical Alhambra hangings had not only been shown by Mr. 
 Soho to the Duchess of Torcaster, but that her grace had had 
 the refusal of them, and had actually rejected them, in conse- 
 quence of Sir Horace Grant the great traveller's objecting to 
 some of the proportions of the pillars. Soho had engaged to 
 make a new set, vastly improved, by Sir Horace's suggestions, 
 for her Grace of Torcaster. 
 
 Now Lady Chatterton was the greatest talker extant ; and 
 she went about the rooms telling everybody of her acquaint- 
 ance — and she was acquainted with everybody — how shame- 
 fully Soho had imposed upon poor Lady Clonbrony, protesting 
 she could not forgive the man. ' For,' said she, ' though the 
 Duchess of Torcaster has been his constant customer for ages, 
 and his patroness, and all that, yet this does not excuse him — ■ 
 and Lady Clonbrony's being a stranger, and from Ireland, 
 makes the thing worse.' From Ireland ! — that was the 
 unkindest cut of all — but there was no remedy. 
 
 In vain poor Lady Clonbrony followed the dowager about 
 the rooms, to correct this mistake, and to represent, in justice 
 to Mr. Soho, though he had used her so ill, that he knew she 
 was an Englishwoman. The dowager was deaf, and no 
 whisper could reach her ear. And when Lady Clonbrony was 
 obliged to bawl an explanation in her ear, the dowager only 
 repeated — ■ 
 
 ' In justice to Mr. Soho ! — No, no ; he has not done you 
 justice, my dear Lady Clonbrony ! and I'll expose him to 
 everybody. Englishwoman! — no, no, no! — Soho could not 
 take you for an Englishwoman ! ' 
 
 All who secretly envied or ridiculed Lady Clonbrony 
 enjoyed this scene. The Alhambra hangings, which had been, 
 in one short hour before, the admiration of the world, were 
 now regarded by every eye with contempt, as cast hangings, 
 and every tongue was busy declaiming against Mr. Soho ; 
 everybody declared that, from the first, the want of proportion 
 had 'struck them, but that they would not mention it till 
 others found it out.' 
 
 126
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 People usually revenge themselves for having admired too 
 much, by afterwards despising and depreciating without mercy 
 — in all great assemblies the perception of ridicule is quickly 
 caught, and quickly too revealed. Lady Clonbrony, even in 
 her own house, on her gala night, became an object of ridicule — ■ 
 decently masked, indeed, under the appearance of condolence 
 with her ladyship, and of indignation against ' that abominable 
 Mr. Soho ! ' 
 
 Lady Langdale, who was now, for reasons of her own, upon 
 her good behaviour, did penance, as she said, for her former 
 imprudence, by abstaining even from whispered sarcasms. 
 She looked on with penitential gravity, said nothing herself, 
 and endeavoured to keep Mrs. Dareville in order ; but that was 
 no easy task. Mrs. Dareville had no daughters, had nothing 
 to gain from the acquaintance of my Lady Clonbrony ; and, 
 conscious that her ladyship would bear a vast deal from her 
 presence, rather than forego the honour of her sanction, Mrs. 
 Dareville, without any motives of interest, or good -nature of 
 sufficient power to restrain her talent and habit of ridicule, free from 
 hope or fear, gave full scope to all the malice of mockery, and 
 all the insolence of fashion. Her slings and arrows, numerous 
 as they were and outrageous, were directed against such petty 
 objects, and the mischief was so quick, in its aim and its 
 operation, that, felt but not seen, it is scarcely possible to 
 register the hits, or to describe the nature of the wounds. 
 
 Some hits sufficiently palpable, however, were recorded for 
 the advantage of posterity. When Lady Clonbrony led her to 
 look at the Chinese pagoda, the lady paused, with her foot on 
 the threshold, as if afraid to enter this porcelain Elysium, as 
 she called it — Fool's Paradise, she would have said ; and, by 
 her hesitation, and by the half-pronounced word, suggested the 
 idea — ' None but belles without petticoats can enter here,' said 
 she, drawing her clothes tight round her ; ' fortunately, I have 
 but two, and Lady Langdale has but one.' Prevailed upon to 
 venture in, she walked on with prodigious care and trepidation, 
 affecting to be alarmed at the crowd of strange forms and 
 monsters by which she was surrounded. 
 
 ' Not a creature here that I ever saw before in nature ! 
 Well, now 1 may boast I've been in a real Chinese pagoda ! ' 
 
 'Why yes, everything is appropriate here, I natter myself,' 
 said Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 127
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'And how good of you, my dear Lady Clonbrony, in 
 defiance of bulls and blunders, to allow us a comfortable 
 English fireplace and plenty of Newcastle coal, in China ! — 
 And a white marble — no ! white velvet hearthrug, painted 
 with beautiful flowers — oh, the delicate, the useful thing ! ' 
 
 Vexed by the emphasis on the word useful, Lady Clonbrony 
 endeavoured to turn off the attention of the company. ' Lady 
 Langdale, your ladyship's a judge of china — this vase is an 
 unique, I am told.' 
 
 ' I am told,' interrupted Mrs. Dareville, ' this is the very 
 
 vase in which B , the nabob's father, who was, you know, 
 
 a China captain, smuggled his dear little Chinese wife and all 
 her fortune out of Canton — positively, actually put the lid on, 
 packed her up, and sent her off on shipboard ! — True ! true ! 
 upon my veracity ! I'll tell you my authority ! ' 
 
 With this story Mrs. Dareville drew all attention from the 
 jar, to' Lady Clonbrony's infinite mortification. 
 
 Lady Langdale at length turned to look at a vast range of 
 china jars. 
 
 • Ali Baba and the forty thieves ! ' exclaimed Mrs. Dareville ; 
 ' I hope you have boiling oil ready ! ' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony was obliged to laugh, and to vow that 
 Mrs. Dareville was uncommon pleasant to-night. ' But now,' 
 said her ladyship, ' let me take you on to the Turkish 
 tent.' 
 
 Having with great difficulty got the malicious wit out of 
 the pagoda and into the Turkish tent, Lady Clonbrony began 
 to breathe more freely ; for here she thought she was upon 
 safe ground : ' Everything, I flatter myself,' said she, ' is 
 correct and appropriate, and quite picturesque.' The com- 
 pany, dispersed in happy groups, or reposing on seraglio 
 ottomans, drinking lemonade and sherbet — beautiful Fatimas 
 admiring, or being admired— ' Everything here quite correct, 
 appropriate, and picturesque,' repeated Mrs. Dareville. 
 
 This lady's powers as a mimic were extraordinary, and she 
 found them irresistible. Hitherto she had imitated Lady 
 Clonbrony's air and accent only behind her back ; but, bolder 
 grown, she now ventured, in spite of Lady Langdale's warning 
 pinches, to mimic her kind hostess before her face, and to 
 her face. Now, whenever Lady Clonbrony saw anything 
 that struck her fancy in the dress of her fashionable friends, 
 
 128
 
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 she had a way of hanging her head aside, and saying, with a 
 peculiar sentimental drawl — 
 
 ' How pretty ! — how elegant ! Now that quite suits my 
 teeste / This phrase, precisely in the same accent, and 
 
 ' " How fretty i—haw elegant .' Now that quite suits my teeste ! "' 
 
 with the head set to the same angle of affectation, Mrs. 
 Dareville had the assurance to address to her ladyship, apropos 
 to something which she pretended to admire in Lady 
 Clonbrony's costume — a costume which, excessively fashionable 
 in each of its parts, was, all together, so extraordinarily 
 unbecoming as to be fit for a print-shop. The perception of 
 
 129 K
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 this, added to the effect of Mrs. Dareville's mimicry, was 
 almost too much for Lady Langdale ; she could not possibly 
 have stood it, but for the appearance of Miss Nugent at this 
 instant behind Lady Clonbrony. Grace gave one glance of 
 indignation which seemed suddenly to strike Mrs. Dareville. 
 Silence for a moment ensued, and afterwards the tone of the 
 conversation was changed. 
 
 ' Salisbury ! — explain this to me,' said a lady, drawing Mr. 
 Salisbury aside. ' If you are in the secret, do explain this to 
 me ; for unless I had seen it, I could not have believed it. 
 Nay, though I have seen it, I do not believe it. How was that 
 daring spirit laid ? By what spell ? ; 
 
 ' By the spell which superior minds always cast on inferior 
 spirits.' 
 
 ' Very fine,' said the lady, laughing, ' but as old as the days 
 of Leonora de Galigai, quoted a million times. Now tell me 
 something new and to the purpose, and better suited to 
 modern days.' 
 
 ' Well, then, since you will not allow me to talk of superior 
 minds in the present days, let me ask you if you have never 
 observed that a wit, once conquered in company by a wit of a 
 higher order, is thenceforward in complete subjection to the 
 conqueror, whenever and wherever they meet.' 
 
 ' You would not persuade me that yonder gentle-looking 
 girl could ever be a match for the veteran Mrs. Dareville ? 
 She may have the wit, but has she the courage ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; no one has more courage, more civil courage, where 
 her own dignity, or the interests of her friends are concerned. 
 I will tell you an instance or two to-morrow.' 
 
 'To-morrow ! — To-night ! — tell it me now. - ' 
 
 ' Not a safe place.' 
 
 ' The safest in the world, in such a crowd as this. 
 Follow my example. Take a glass of orgeat — sip from time 
 to time, thus — speak low, looking innocent all the while 
 straight forward, or now and then up at the lamps — keep on in 
 an even tone — use no names — and you may tell anything.' 
 
 'Well, then, when Miss Nugent first came to London, 
 Lady Langdale ' 
 
 ' Two names already — did not I warn ye ? ' 
 
 ' But how can I make myself intelligible ? ' 
 
 ' Initials — can't you use — or genealogy ? What stops you V 
 130
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 — It is only Lord Colambre, a very safe person, I have a 
 notion, when the eulogium is of Grace Nugent.' 
 
 Lord Colambre, who had now performed his arduous duties 
 as a dancer, and had disembarrassed himself of all his partners, 
 came into the Turkish tent just at this moment to refresh 
 himself, and just in time to hear Mr. Salisbury's anecdotes. 
 
 ' Now go on.' 
 
 ' Lady Langdale, you know, sets an inordinate value upon 
 her curtsies in public, and she used to treat Miss Nugent, as 
 her ladyship treats many other people, sometimes noticing, 
 and sometimes pretending not to know her, according to the 
 company she happened to be with. One day they met in some 
 fine company — Lady Langdale looked as if she was afraid of 
 committing herself by a curtsy. Miss Nugent waited for a 
 good opportunity ; and, when all the world was silent, leant 
 forward, and called to Lady Langdale, as if she had something 
 to communicate of the greatest consequence, skreening her 
 whisper with her hand, as in an aside on the stage,— 'Lady 
 Langdale, you may curtsy to me now — nobody is looking.' 
 
 'The retort courteous!' said Lord Colambre- -' the only 
 retort for a woman.' 
 
 'And her ladyship deserved it so well. But Mrs. Dareville, 
 what happened about her ? ' 
 
 ' Mrs. Dareville, you remember, some years ago, went to 
 Ireland with some lady-lieutenant to whom she was related. 
 There she was most hospitably received by Lord and Lady 
 Clonbrony — went to their country house — was as intimate with 
 Lady Clonbrony and with Miss Nugent as possible — stayed at 
 Clonbrony Castle for a month ; and yet, when Lady Clonbrony 
 came to London, never took the least notice of her. At last, 
 meeting at the house of a common friend, Mrs. Dareville could 
 not avoid recognising her ladyship ; but, even then, did it in 
 the least civil manner and most cursory style possible. ' Ho ! 
 Lady Clonbrony ! — didn't know you were in England ! — When 
 did you come ? — How long shall you stay in town ? — Hope, 
 before you leave England, your ladyship and Miss Nugent 
 will give us a day ? ' A day .' — Lady Clonbrony was so 
 astonished by this impudence of ingratitude, that she hesitated 
 how to take it; but Miss Nugent, quite coolly, and with a 
 smile, answered, ' A day ! — certainly— to you, who gave us a 
 month ! ' 
 
 •3i
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Admirable ! Now I comprehend perfectly why Mrs. 
 Dareville declines insulting Miss Nugent's friends in her 
 presence.' . - 
 
 ' " Lady Latlgdale, you may curtsy to me now — nobody is looking' " 
 Copyright 1804 *>' Macmillcm &■ Co. 
 
 Lord Colambre said nothing, but thought much. ' How I 
 wish my mother,' thought he, ' had some of Grace Nugent's 
 proper pride ! She would not then waste her fortune, spirits, 
 health, and life, in courting such people as these.' 
 
 *3 2
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 He had not seen — he could not have borne to have beheld 
 — the manner in which his mother had been treated by some 
 of her guests ; but he observed that she now looked harassed 
 and vexed ; and he was provoked and mortified by hearing 
 her begging and beseeching some of these saucy leaders of the 
 ton to oblige her, to do her the favour, to do her the honour, 
 to stay to supper. It was just ready — actually announced. 
 ' No, they would not — they could not ; they were obliged to 
 run away — engaged to the Duchess of Torcaster.' 
 
 ' Lord Colambre, what is the matter ? ' said Miss Nugent, 
 going up to him, as he stood aloof and indignant : ' Don't look 
 so like a chafed lion ; others may perhaps read your counten- 
 ance as well as I do.' 
 
 'None can read my mind so well,' replied he. 'Oh, my 
 dear Grace ! ' 
 
 ' Supper ! — supper ! ' cried she ; ' your duty to your 
 neighbour, your hand to your partner.' 
 
 Lady Catharine, as they went downstairs to supper, observed 
 that Miss Nugent had not been dancing, that she had kept 
 quite in the background all night — quite in the shade. 
 
 ' Those,' said Lord Colambre, ' who are contented in the 
 shade are the best able to bear the light ; and I am not 
 surprised that one so interesting in the background should 
 not desire to be the foremost figure in a piece.' 
 
 The supper room, fitted up at great expense, with scenery to 
 imitate Vauxhall, opened into a superb greenhouse, lighted 
 with coloured lamps, a band of music at a distance — every 
 delicacy, every luxury that could gratify the senses, appeared 
 in profusion. The company ate and drank — enjoyed them- 
 selves — went away — and laughed at their hostess. Some, 
 indeed, who thought they had been neglected, were in too bad 
 humour to laugh, but abused her in sober earnest ; for Lady 
 Clonbrony had offended half, nay, three-quarters of her guests, 
 by what they termed her exclusive attention to those very 
 leaders of the ton, from whom she had suffered so much, and 
 who had made it obvious to all that they thought they did her 
 too much honour in appearing at her gala. So ended the 
 gala for which she had lavished such sums ; for which she had 
 laboured so indefatigably ; and from which she had expected 
 such triumph. 
 
 ' Colambre, bid the musicians stop ; they are playing to 
 
 133
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 empty benches,' said Lady Clonbrony. ' Grace, my dear, will 
 you see that these lamps are safely put out ? I am so tired, 
 so worn out, I must go to bed ; and I am sure I have caught 
 cold too ! What a nervous business it is to manage these 
 things ! I wonder how one gets through it, or why one 
 does it 1 ; 
 
 134
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Lady Cloxbronv was taken ill the day after her gala ; she had 
 caught cold by standing, when much overheated, in a violent 
 draught of wind, paying her parting compliments to the I 
 
 of V . who thought her a and wished her in heaven 
 
 all the time for keeping his horses standing. Her ladyship's 
 illness was severe and long ; she was confined to her room for 
 some weeks by a rheumatic fever, and an inflammation in her c 
 Even- day, when Lord Colambre went to see his mother, he 
 found Miss Nugent in her apartment, and even* hour he found 
 fresh reason to admire this charming girl. The affectionate 
 tenderness, the indefatigable patience, the strong attachment 
 she showed for her aunt, actua . Lady Clonbrony in her 
 
 son's opinion. He was persuaded she must surely have some 
 good or great qualities, or she could not have excited such 
 strong affection. A few foibles out of the question, such as her 
 love of fine people, her affectation of being English, and other 
 affectations too tedious to mention. Lady Clonbrony was re 
 a good woman, had good principles, moral and religious, and, 
 selfishness not immediately interfering, she was good-natured : 
 and though her soul and attention were so completely absorbed 
 in the duties of acquaintanceship that she did not know it, she 
 really had affections — they were concentrated upon a few near 
 relations. She was extremely fond and extremely proud of 
 her son. Next to her son. she was fonder of her niece than 
 of any other creature. She had received Grace Nugent into 
 her family when she was left an orphan, and deserted by some 
 of her other relations. She had bred her up, and had treated 
 her with constant kindness. This kindness and these obliga- 
 tions had raised the warmest gratitude in Miss Nugent's heart : 
 and it was the strong principle of gratitude which rendered her
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 capable of endurance and exertions seemingly far above her 
 strength. This young lady was not of a robust appearance, 
 though she now underwent extraordinary fatigue. Her aunt 
 could scarcely bear that she should leave her for a moment : 
 she could not close her eyes unless Grace sat up with her 
 many hours every night. Night after night she bore this 
 fatigue ; and yet, with little sleep or rest, she preserved her 
 health, at least supported her spirits ; and every morning, 
 when Lord Colambre came into his mother's room, he saw 
 Miss Nugent look as blooming as if she had enjoyed the most 
 refreshing sleep. The bloom was, as he observed, not 
 permanent ; it came and went, with every emotion of her 
 feeling heart ; and he soon learned to fancy her almost as 
 handsome when she was pale as when she had a colour. He 
 had thought her beautiful when he beheld her in all the 
 radiance of light, and with all the advantages of dress at the 
 gala, but he found her infinitely more lovely and interesting 
 now, when he saw her in a sick-room — a half-darkened chamber 
 — where often he could but just discern her form, or distinguish 
 her, except by her graceful motion as she passed, or when, 
 but for a moment, a window-curtain drawn aside let the sun 
 shine upon her face, or on the unadorned ringlets of her hair. 
 
 Much must be allowed for an inflammation in the eyes, and 
 something for a rheumatic fever ; yet it may seem strange 
 that Lady Clonbrony should be so blind and deaf as neither to 
 see nor hear all this time ; that, having lived so long in the 
 world, it should never occur to her that it was rather imprudent 
 to have a young lady, not eighteen, nursing her— and such a 
 young lady ! — when her son, not one-and-twenty — and such a 
 son ! — came to visit her daily. But, so it was. Lady 
 Clonbrony knew nothing of love — she had read of it, indeed, 
 in novels, which sometimes for fashion's sake she had looked 
 at, and over which she had been obliged to doze ; but this was 
 only love in books — love in real life she had never met with — 
 in the life she led, how should she ? She had heard of its 
 making young people, and old people even, do foolish things ; 
 but those were foolish people ; and if they were worse than 
 foolish, why it was shocking, and nobody visited them. But 
 Lady Clonbrony had not, for her own part, the slightest notion 
 how people could be brought to this pass, nor how anybody 
 out of Bedlam could prefer to a good house, a decent equipage, 
 
 136
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and a proper establishment, what is called love in a cottage. 
 As to Colambre, she had too good an opinion of his under- 
 
 1 For a moment, a window-curtain drawn aside let ihc sun shine upon kerjace. ' 
 
 standing — to say nothing of his duty to his family, his pride, 
 his rank, and his being her son — to let such an idea cross her 
 imagination. As to her niece ; in the first place, she was her 
 niece, and first cousins should never marry, because they form 
 
 137
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 no new connexions to strengthen the family interest, or raise 
 its consequence. This doctrine her ladyship had repeated 
 for years so often and so dogmatically, that she conceived it to be 
 incontrovertible, and of as full force as any law of the land, or 
 as any moral or religious obligation. She would as soon have 
 suspected her niece of an intention of stealing her diamond 
 necklace as of purloining Colambre's heart, or marrying this 
 heir of the house of Clonbrony. 
 
 Miss Nugent was so well apprised, and so thoroughly con- 
 vinced of all this, that she never for one moment allowed 
 herself to think of Lord Colambre as a lover. Duty, honour, 
 and gratitude — gratitude, the strong feeling and principle of 
 her mind — forbade it ; she had so prepared and habituated 
 herself to consider him as a person with whom she could not 
 possibly be united that, with perfect ease and simplicity, she 
 behaved towards him exactly as if he was her brother — not in 
 the equivocating sentimental romance style in which ladies 
 talk of treating men as their brothers, whom they are all the 
 time secretly thinking of and endeavouring to please as lovers 
 — not using this phrase as a convenient pretence, a safe mode 
 of securing herself from suspicion or scandal, and of enjoying 
 the advantages of confidence and the intimacy of friendship, 
 till the propitious moment, when it should be time to declare 
 or avow the secret of the. Jieart. No ; this young lady was 
 quite above all double-dealing ; she had no mental reservation 
 — no metaphysical subtleties — but, with plain, unsophisticated 
 morality, in good faith and simple truth, acted as she pro- 
 fessed, thought what she said, and was that which she seemed 
 to be. 
 
 As soon as Lady Clonbrony was able to see anybody, her 
 niece sent to Mrs. Broadhurst, who was very intimate with the 
 family ; she used to come frequently, almost every evening, to 
 sit with the invalid. Miss Broadhurst accompanied her 
 mother, for she did not like to go out with any other chaperon 
 — it was disagreeable to spend her time alone at home, and 
 most agreeable to spend it with her friend Miss Nugent. In 
 this she had no design, no coquetry ; Miss Broadhurst had too 
 lofty and independent a spirit to stoop to coquetry : she thought 
 that, in their interview at the gala, she understood Lord 
 Colambre, and that he understood her — that he was not 
 inclined to court her for her fortune — that she would not be
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 content with any suitor who was not a lover. She was two 
 or three years older than Lord Colambre, perfectly aware of 
 her want of beauty, yet with a just sense of her own merit, and 
 of what was becoming and due to the dignity of her sex. This, 
 she trusted, was visible in her manners, and established in 
 Lord Colambre's mind ; so that she ran no risk of being 
 misunderstood by him ; and as to what the rest of the world 
 thought, she was so well used to hear weekly and daily reports 
 of her going to be married to fifty different people, that she 
 cared little for what was said on this subject. Indeed, 
 conscious of rectitude, and with an utter contempt for mean 
 and commonplace gossiping, she was, for a woman, and 
 a young woman, rather too disdainful of the opinion of the 
 world. Mrs. Broadhurst, though her daughter had fully 
 explained herself respecting Lord Colambre, before she began 
 this course of visiting, yet rejoiced that, even on this footing, 
 there should be constant intercourse between them. It was 
 Mrs. Broadhurst's warmest wish that her daughter should 
 obtain rank, and connect herself with an ancient family : she 
 was sensible that the young lady's being older than the gentle- 
 man might be an obstacle ; and very sorry she was to find 
 that her daughter had so impmdently, so unnecessarily, declared 
 her age ; but still this little obstacle might be overcome ; much 
 greater difficulties in the marriage of inferior heiresses were 
 every day got over, and thought nothing of. Then, as to the 
 young lady's own sentiments, her mother knew them better 
 than she did herself ; she understood her daughter's pride, that 
 she dreaded to be made an object of bargain and sale ; but 
 Mrs. Broadhurst, who, with all her coarseness of mind, had 
 rather a better notion of love matters than Lady Clonbrony, 
 perceived, through her daughter's horror of being offered to 
 Lord Colambre, through her anxiety that nothing approaching 
 to an advance on the part of her family should be made, that 
 if Lord Colambre should himself advance, he would stand a 
 better chance of being accepted than any other of the numerous 
 persons who had yet aspired to the favour of this heiress. The 
 very circumstance of his having paid no court to her at first, 
 operated in his favour ; for it proved that he was not mercenary, 
 and that, whatever attention he might afterwards show, she 
 must be sure would be sincere and disinterested. 
 
 'And now, let them but see one another in this easy, 
 
 139
 
 THE ABSENT1 1 
 
 intimate kind of way, and you will find, my dear Lady Clon- 
 brony, things will gt> on of their own accord, all the better for our 
 — minding our cards — and never minding anything else. I 
 remember, when I was young — but let that pass — let the young 
 people see one another, and manage their own affairs their own 
 way — let them be together — that's all I say. Ask half the 
 men you are acquainted with why they married, and their 
 answer, if they speak truth, will be: "Because I met Miss 
 such-a-one at such a place, and we were continually together." 
 Propinquity! propinquity! — as my father used to say — 
 and he was married five times, and twice to heiresses.' 
 
 In consequence of this plan of leaving things to themsel 
 every evening Lady Clonbrony made out her own little card- 
 table with Mrs. Broadhurst, and a Mr. and Miss Piatt, a 
 brother and sister, who were the most obliging, convenient 
 neighbours imaginable. From time to time, as Lady Clonbrony 
 gathered up her cards, she would direct an inquiring glance to 
 the group of young people at the other table ; whilst the more 
 prudent Mrs. Broadhurst sat plump with her back to them, 
 pursing up her lips, and contracting her brows in token of 
 deep calculation, looking down impenetrable at her cards, 
 never even noticing Lady Clonbrony's glances, but inquiring 
 from her partner, ' How many they were by honours ? ' 
 
 The young party generally consisted of Miss Broadhurst, 
 Lord Colambre, Miss Nugent, and her admirer, Mr. Salisbury. 
 Mr. Salisbury was a middle-aged gentleman, very agreeable, 
 and well informed ; he had travelled ; had seen a great 
 deal of the world ; had lived in the best company ; had 
 acquired what is called good tact ; was full of anecdote, not 
 mere gossiping anecdotes that lead to nothing, but anecdotes 
 characteristic of national manners, of human nature in general, 
 or of those illustrious individuals who excite public curiosity 
 and interest. Miss Nugent had seen him always in large 
 companies, where he was admired for his scavoir-7'ivn\ and for 
 his entertaining anecdotes, but where he had no opportunity of 
 producing any of the higher powers of his understanding, or 
 showing character. She found that Mr. Salisbury appeared to 
 her quite a different person when conversing with Lord 
 Colambre. Lord Colambre, with that ardent thirst for know- 
 ledge which it is always agreeable to gratify, had an air of 
 openness and generosity, a frankness, a warmth of manner, 
 
 140
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 which, with good breeding, but with something beyond it and 
 superior to its established forms, irresistibly won the confidence 
 and attracted the affection of those with whom he conversed. 
 His manners were peculiarly agreeable to a person like Mr. 
 Salisbury, tired of the sameness and egotism of men of the 
 world. 
 
 Miss Nugent had seldom till now had the advantage of 
 hearing much conversation on literary subjects. In the life 
 she had been compelled to lead she had acquired accomplish- 
 ments, had exercised her understanding upon everything 
 that passed before her, and from circumstances had formed 
 her judgment and her taste by observations on real life ; but 
 the ample page of knowledge had never been unrolled to her 
 eyes. She had never had opportunities of acquiring literature 
 herself, but she admired it in others, particularly in her friend 
 Miss Broadhurst. Miss Broadhurst had received all the 
 advantages of education which money could procure, and had 
 profited by them in a manner uncommon among those for 
 whom they are purchased in such abundance ; she not only 
 had had many masters, and read many books, but had thought 
 of what she read, and had supplied, by the strength and energy 
 of her own mind, what cannot be acquired by the assistance 
 of masters. Miss Nugent, perhaps overvaluing the informa- 
 tion that she did not possess, and free from all idea of envy, 
 looked up to her friend as to a superior being, with a sort of 
 enthusiastic admiration ; and now, with ' charmed attention,' 
 listened, by turns, to her, to Mr. Salisbury, and to Lord 
 Colambre, whilst they conversed on literary subjects — listened, 
 with a countenance so full of intelligence, of animation so 
 expressive of every good and kind affection, that the gentle- 
 men did not always know what they were saying. 
 
 'Pray go on,' said she, once, to Mr. Salisbury; 'you stop, 
 perhaps, from politeness to me — from compassion to my 
 ignorance ; but, though I am ignorant, you do not tire me, I 
 assure you. Did you ever condescend to read the Arabian 
 tales ? Like him whose eyes were touched by the magical 
 application from the dervise, I am enabled at once to see the 
 riches of a new world — Oh ! how unlike, how superior to that 
 in which I have lived ! — the GREAT world, as it is called.' 
 
 Lord Colambre brought down a beautiful edition of the 
 Arabian tales, looked for the story to which Miss Nugent had 
 
 141
 
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 alluded, and showed it to Miss Broadhurst, who was also 
 searching for it in another volume. 
 
 Lady Clonbrony, from her card-table, saw the young people 
 thus engaged. 
 
 1 1 profess not to understand these things so well as you 
 say you do, my dear Mrs. Broadhurst,' whispered she ; ' but 
 look there now ; they are at their books ! What do you expect 
 can come of that sort of thing ? So ill-bred, and downright 
 rude of Colambre, I must give him a hint.' 
 
 ' No, no, for mercy's sake ! my dear Lady Clonbrony, no 
 hints, no hints, no remarks ! What would you have ? — she 
 reading, and my lord at the back of her chair, leaning over — 
 and allowed, mind, to lean over to read the same thing. Can't 
 be better ! Never saw any man yet allowed to come so near 
 her ! Now, Lady Clonbrony, not a word, not a look, I 
 beseech.' 
 
 ' Well, well !— but if they had a little music.' 
 
 ' My daughter's tired of music. How much do 1 owe your 
 ladyship now ? — three rubbers, I think. Now, though you 
 would not believe it of a young girl,' continued Mrs. Broad- 
 hurst, ' I can assure your ladyship, my daughter would often 
 rather go to a book than a ball.' 
 
 ' Well, now, that's very extraordinary, in the style in which 
 she has been brought up ; yet books and all that are so 
 fashionable now, that it's very natural,' said Lady Clon- 
 brony. 
 
 About this time, Mr. Berryl, Lord Colambre's Cambridge 
 friend, for whom his lordship had fought the battle of the 
 curricle with Mordicai, came to town. Lord Colambre intro- 
 duced him to his mother, by whom he was graciously received ; 
 for Mr. Berryl was a young gentleman of good figure, good 
 address, good family, heir to a good fortune, and in every 
 respect a fit match for Miss Nugent. Lady Clonbrony thought 
 that it would be wise to secure him for her niece before he 
 should make his appearance in the London world, where 
 mothers and daughters would soon make him feel his own 
 consequence. Mr. Berryl, as Lord Colambre's intimate friend, 
 was admitted to the private evening parties at Lady Clon- 
 brony' s, and he contributed to render them still more agreeable. 
 His information, his habits of thinking, and his views, were 
 all totally different from Mr. Salisbury's ; and their collision 
 
 142
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 continually struck out that sparkling novelty which pleases 
 peculiarly in conversation. Mr. Berryl's education, disposition, 
 and tastes, fitted him exactly for the station which he was 
 destined to fill in society — that of a country gentleman; not 
 meaning by that expression a mere eating, drinking, hunting, 
 shooting, ignorant country squire of the old race, which is 
 now nearly extinct ; but a cultivated, enlightened, independent 
 English country gentleman — the happiest, perhaps, of human 
 beings. On the comparative felicity of the town and country 
 life ; on the dignity, utility, elegance, and interesting nature 
 of their different occupations, and general scheme of passing 
 their time, Mr. Berryl and Mr. Salisbury had one evening 
 a playful, entertaining, and, perhaps, instructive conversation ; 
 each party, at the end, remaining, as frequently happens, of 
 their own opinion. It was observed that Miss Broadhurst 
 ably and warmly defended Mr. Berryl's side of the question ; 
 and in their views, plans, and estimates of life, there appeared 
 a remarkable, and as Lord Colambre thought, a happy coin- 
 cidence. When she was at last called upon to give her 
 decisive judgment between a town and a country life, she 
 declared that ' if she were condemned to the extremes of either, 
 she should prefer a country life, as much as she should prefer 
 Robinson Crusoe's diary to the journal of the idle man in the 
 Spectator? 
 
 ' Lord bless me ! Mrs. Broadhurst, do you hear what your 
 daughter is saying ? ' cried Lady Clonbrony, who, from the 
 card-table, lent an attentive ear to all that was going forward. 
 ' Is it possible that Miss Broadhurst, with her fortune, and 
 pretensions, and sense, can really be serious in saying she 
 would be content to live in the country ? ' 
 
 ' What's that you say, child, about living in the country' ? ' 
 said Mrs. Broadhurst. 
 
 Miss Broadhurst repeated what she had said. 
 
 ' Girls always think so who have lived in town,' said 
 Mrs. Broadhurst. ' They are always dreaming of sheep and 
 sheep-hooks ; but the first winter the country cures them ; a 
 shepherdess, in winter, is a sad and sorry sort of personage, 
 except at a masquerade.' 
 
 ' Colambre,' said Lady Clonbrony, ' I am sure Miss Broad- 
 hurst's sentiments about town life, and all that, must delight 
 you ; for do you know, ma'am, he is always trying to 
 
 M3
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 persuade me to give up living in town ? Colambre and Miss 
 Broadhurst perfectly agree.' 
 
 1 Mind your cards, my dear Lady Clonbrony,' interrupted 
 Mrs. Broadhurst, 'in pity to your partner. Mr. Pratt has 
 certainly the patience of Job — your ladyship has revoked twice 
 this hand.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony begged a thousand pardons, fixed her eyes 
 and endeavoured to fix her mind on the cards ; but there was 
 something said at the other end of the room, about an estate 
 in Cambridgeshire, which soon distracted her attention again. 
 Mr. Pratt certainly had the patience of Job. She revoked, and 
 lost the game, though they had four by honours. 
 
 As soon as she rose from the card-table, and could speak to 
 Mrs. Broadhurst apart, she communicated her apprehensions. 
 
 ' Seriously, my dear madam,' said she, ' I believe I have 
 done very wrong to admit Mr. Bcrryl just now, though it was 
 on Grace's account I did it. But, ma'am, I did not know Miss 
 Broadhurst had an estate in Cambridgeshire ; their two estates 
 just close to one another, I heard them say. Lord bless me, 
 ma'am ! there's the clanger of propinquity indeed ! ' 
 
 ' No danger, no danger,' persisted Mrs. Broadhurst. ' I 
 know my girl better than you do, begging your ladyship's 
 pardon. No one thinks less of estates than she does.' 
 
 ' Well, I only know I heard her talking of them, and 
 earnestly too.' 
 
 ' Yes, very likely ; but don't you know that girls never 
 think of what they are talking about, or rather never talk of 
 what they are thinking about ? And they have always ten 
 times more to say to the man they don't care for, than to him 
 they do.' 
 
 ' Very extraordinary I ' said Lady Clonbrony. ' I only hope 
 you are right.' 
 
 ' I am sure of it,' said Mrs. Broadhurst. ' Only let things 
 go on, and mind your cards, I beseech you, to-morrow night 
 better than you did to-night ; and you will see that things will 
 turn out just as I prophesied. Lord Colambre will come to a 
 point-blank proposal before the end of the week, and will be 
 accepted, or my name's not Broadhurst. Why, in plain 
 English, I am clear my girl likes him ; and when that's the 
 case, you know, can you doubt how the thing will end ? ' 
 
 Mrs. Broadhurst was perfectly right in every point of her 
 144
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 reasoning but one. From long habit of seeing and considering 
 that such an heiress as her daughter might marry whom she 
 pleased — from constantly seeing that she was the person to 
 decide and to reject — Mrs. Broadhurst had literally taken it 
 for granted that everything was to depend upon her daughter's 
 inclinations : she was not mistaken, in the present case, in 
 opining that the young lady would not be averse to Lord 
 Colarnbre, if he came to what she called a point-blank proposal. 
 It really never occurred to Mrs. Broadhurst that any man, 
 whom her daughter was the least inclined to favour, could 
 think of anybody else. Quick-sighted in these affairs as the 
 matron thought herself, she saw but one side of the question : 
 blind and dull of comprehension as she thought Lady Clonbrony 
 on this subject, she was herself so completely blinded by her 
 own prejudices, as to be incapable of discerning the plain 
 thing that was before her eyes ; videlicet, that Lord Colarnbre 
 preferred Grace Nugent. Lord Colarnbre made no proposal 
 before the end of the week, but this Mrs. Broadhurst attributed 
 to an unexpected occurrence, which prevented things from going 
 on in the train in which they had been proceeding so smoothly. 
 Sir John Berryl, Mr. BerryFs father, was suddenly seized with 
 a dangerous illness. The news was brought to Mr. Berryl one 
 evening whilst he was at Lady Clonbrony's. The circumstances 
 of domestic distress, which afterwards occurred in the family of 
 his friend, entirely occupied Lord Colambre's time and atten- 
 tion. All thoughts of love were suspended, and his whole mind 
 was given up to the active services of friendship. The sudden 
 illness of Sir John Berryl spread an alarm among his creditors 
 which brought to light at once the disorder of his affairs, of 
 which his son had no knowledge or suspicion. Lady Berryl 
 had been a very expensive woman, especially in equipages ; and 
 Mordicai, the coachmaker, appeared at this time the foremost 
 and the most inexorable of their creditors. Conscious that the 
 charges in his account were exorbitant, and that they would not 
 be allowed if examined by a court of justice ; that it was a 
 debt which only ignorance and extravagance could have in the 
 first instance incurred, swelled afterwards to an amazing amount 
 by interest, and interest upon interest ; Mordicai was impatient 
 to obtain payment whilst Sir John yet lived, or at least to obtain 
 legal security for the whole sum from the heir. Mr. Berryl 
 offered his bond for the amount of the reasonable charges in 
 
 145 L
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 his account ; but this Mordicai absolutely refused, declaring 
 that now he had the power in his own hands, he would use it 
 to obtain the utmost penny of his debt ; that he would not let 
 the thing slip through his fingers ; that a debtor never yet 
 escaped him, and never should ; that a man's lying upon his 
 deathbed was no excuse to a creditor ; that he was not a 
 whiffler, to stand upon ceremony about disturbing a gentleman 
 in his last moments ; that he was not to be cheated out of his 
 due by such niceties ; that he was prepared to go all lengths 
 the law would allow ; for that, as to what people said of him, 
 he did not care a doit — 'Cover your fare with your hands, if 
 you like it, Mr. Berryl ; you may be ashamed for me, but 1 
 feel no shame for myself — I am not so weak.' Mordicai's 
 countenance said more than his words ; livid with malice, and 
 with atrocious determination in his eyes, he stood. ' Yes, sir,' 
 said he, 'you may look at me as you please — it is possible — I 
 am in earnest. Consult what you'll do now, behind my back 
 or before my face, it comes to the same thing ; for nothing 
 will do but my money or your bond, Mr. Berryl. The arrest i^. 
 made on the person of your father, luckily made while the 
 breath is still in the body. Yes — start forward to strike me, 
 if you dare — your father, Sir John Berryl, sick or well, is my 
 prisoner.' 
 
 Lady Berryl and Mr. Berryl's sisters, in an agony of grief, 
 rushed into the room. 
 
 ' It's all useless,' cried Mordicai, turning his back upon the 
 ladies ; ' these tricks upon creditors won't do with me ; I'm 
 used to these scenes ; I'm not made of such stuff as you think. 
 Leave a gentleman in peace in his last moments. No ! he 
 ought not, nor shan't die in peace, if he don't pay his debts ; 
 and if you are all so mighty sorry, ladies, there's the gentleman 
 you may kneel to ; if tenderness is the order of the day, it's for 
 the son to show it, not me. Ay, now, Mr. Berryl,' cried he, as 
 Mr. Berryl took up the bond to sign it, ' you're beginning to 
 know I'm not a fool to be trifled with. Stop your hand, if 
 you choose it, sir — it's all the same to me ; the person, or the 
 money, I'll carry with me out of this house.' 
 
 Mr. Berryl signed the bond, and threw it to him. 
 
 ' There, monster ! — quit the house ! ' 
 
 v Monstei- is not actionable — I wish you had called me 
 rascal] said Mordicai, grinning a horrible smile ; and taking 
 
 146
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 up the bond deliberately, returned it to Mr. Berryl. ' This 
 paper is worth nothing to me, sir — it is not witnessed.' 
 
 Mr. Berryl hastily left the room, and returned with Lord 
 Colambre. Mordicai changed countenance and grew pale, for 
 a moment, at sight of Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Well, my lord, since it so happens, I am not sorry that 
 you should be witness to this paper,' said he ; ' and indeed not 
 sorry that you should witness the whole proceeding ; for I trust 
 I shall be able to explain to you my conduct.' 
 
 ' I do not come here, sir,' interrupted Lord Colambre, ' to 
 listen to any explanations of your conduct, which I perfectly 
 understand ; — I come to witness a bond for my friend Mr. 
 Berryl, if you think proper to extort from him such a bond.' 
 
 ' I extort nothing, my lord. Mr. Berryl, it is quite a 
 voluntary act, take notice, on your part ; sign or not, witness 
 or not, as you please, gentlemen,' said Mordicai, sticking his 
 hands in his pockets, and recovering his look of black and 
 fixed determination. 
 
 'Witness it, witness it, my dear lord,' said Mr. Berryl, 
 looking at his mother and weeping sisters ; ' witness it, 
 quick ! ' 
 
 ' Mr. Berryl must just run over his name again in your 
 presence, my lord, with a dry pen,' said Mordicai, putting the 
 pen into Mr. Berryl's hand. 
 
 ' No, sir,' said Lord Colambre, ' my friend shall never sign 
 it.' 
 
 ' As you please, my lord — the bond or the body, before 
 I quit this house,' said Mordicai. 
 
 ' Neither, sir, shall you have ; and you quit this house 
 directly.' 
 
 ' How ! how ! — my lord, how's this ? ' 
 
 ' Sir, the arrest you have made is as illegal as it is in- 
 human.' 
 
 ' Illegal, my lord ! ' said Mordicai, startled. 
 
 ' Illegal, sir. I came into this house at the moment when 
 your bailiff asked and was refused admittance. Afterwards, 
 in the confusion of the family above stairs, he forced open the 
 house door with an iron bar — I saw him — I am read}' to give 
 evidence of the fact. Now proceed at your peril.' 
 
 Mordicai, without reply snatched up his hat, and walked 
 towards the door ; but Lord Colambre held the door open — 
 
 147
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the door was immediately at the head of the stairs — and 
 Mordicai, seeing his indignant look and proud form, hesitated 
 to pass ; for he had always heard that Irishmen are 'quick in 
 the executive part of justice.' 
 
 ' Pass on, sir,' repeated Lord Colambre, with an air of in- 
 effable contempt : ' I am a gentleman— you have nothing to 
 fear.' 
 
 Mordicai ran downstairs ; Lord Colambre, before he went 
 back into the room, waited to see Mordicai and his bailiff 
 out of the house. When Mordicai was fairly at the bottom 
 of the stairs, he turned, and, white with rage, looked up at 
 Lord Colambre. 
 
 'Charity begins at home, my lord,' said he. 'Look at 
 home — you shall pay for this,' added he, standing half-shielded 
 by the house door, for Lord Colambre moved forward as he 
 spoke the last words ; ' and I give you this warning, because 
 I know it will be of no use to you — Your most obedient, 
 my lord.' 
 
 The house door closed after Mordicai. 
 
 'Thank Heaven !' thought Lord Colambre, 'that I did not 
 horsewhip that mean wretch ! This warning shall be of use to 
 me. But it is not time to think of that yet.' 
 
 Lord Colambre turned from his own affairs to those of hi=> 
 friend, to offer all the assistance and consolation in his power. 
 Sir John Berryl died that night. His daughters, who had lived 
 in the highest style in London, were left totally unprovided for. 
 His widow had mortgaged her jointure. Mr. Berryl had an 
 estate now left to him, but without any income. He could not be 
 so dishonest as to refuse to pay his father's just debts ; he could 
 not let his mother and sisters starve. The scene of distress 
 to which Lord Colambre was witness in this family made a 
 still greater impression upon him than had been made by the 
 warning or the threats of Mordicai. The similarity between 
 the circumstances of his friend's family and of his own struck 
 him forcibly. 
 
 All this evil had arisen from Lady Berryl's passion for 
 living in London and at watering-places. She had made her 
 husband an absentee — an absentee from his home, his affairs, 
 his duties, and his estate. The sea, the Irish Channel, did not, 
 indeed, flow between him and his estate ; but it was of little 
 importance whether the separation was effected by land or 
 
 148
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 water — the consequences, the negligence, the extravagance, 
 were the same. 
 
 Of the few people of his age who are capable of profiting 
 by the experience of others, Lord Colambre was one. ' Ex- 
 perience,' as an elegant writer has observed, ' is an article 
 that may be borrowed with safety, and is often dearly bought.' 
 
 149
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 In the meantime, Lady Clonbrony had been occupied with 
 thoughts very different from those which passed in the mind 
 of her son. Though ^he had never completely recovered from 
 her rheumatic pains, she had become inordinately impatient of 
 confinement to her own house, and weary of those dull evenings 
 at home, which had, in her son's absence, become insupportable. 
 She told over her visiting tickets regularly twice a day, and 
 gave to every card of imitation a heartfelt sigh. Miss Pratt 
 alarmed her ladyship, by bringing intelligence of some parties 
 given by persons of consequence, to which she was not invited. 
 She feared that she should be forgotten in the world, well 
 knowing how soon the world forgets those they do not see 
 every day and everywhere. How miserable is the fine lady's 
 lot who cannot forget the world, and who is forgot by the 
 world in a moment ! How much more miserable still is the 
 condition of a would-be fine lady, working her way up in the 
 world with care and pains ! By her, every the slightest failure 
 of attention, from persons of rank and fashion, is marked and 
 felt with jealous anxiety, and with a sense of mortification the 
 most acute — an invitation omitted is a matter of the most 
 serious consequence, not only as it regards the present, but the 
 future ; for if she be not invited by Lady A, it will lower her in 
 the eyes of Lady B, and of all the ladies of the alphabet. It 
 will form a precedent of the most dangerous and inevitable ap- 
 plication. If she has nine invitations, and the tenth be want- 
 ing, the nine have no power to make her happy. This was 
 precisely Lady Clonbrony's case — there was to be a party at 
 Lady St. James's, for which Lady Clonbrony had no card. 
 
 ' So ungrateful, so monstrous, of Lady St. James ! — What ! 
 was the gala so soon forgotten, and all the marked attentions 
 
 150
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 paid that night to Lady St. James ! — attentions, you know, 
 Pratt, which were looked upon with a jealous eye, and made 
 me enemies enough, I am told, in another quarter ! Of all 
 people, I did not expect to be slighted by Lady St. James ! ' 
 
 Miss Pratt, who was ever ready to undertake the defence 
 of any person who had a title, pleaded, in mitigation of 
 censure, that perhaps Lady St. James might not be aware 
 that her ladyship was yet well enough to venture out. 
 
 'Oh, my dear Miss Pratt, that cannot be the thing; for, 
 in spite of my rheumatism, which really was bad enough last 
 Sunday, I went on purpose to the Royal Chapel, to show 
 myself in the closet, and knelt close to her ladyship. And, my 
 dear, we curtsied, and she congratulated me, after church, 
 upon my being abroad again, and was so happy to see me 
 look so well, and all that — Oh ! it is something very extraor- 
 dinary and unaccountable ! ' 
 
 ' But, I daresay, a card will come yet,' said Miss Pratt. 
 
 Upon this hint, Lady Clonbrony's hope revived ; and, 
 staying her anger, she began to consider how she could 
 manage to get herself invited. Refreshing tickets were left 
 next morning at Lady St. James's with their corners properly 
 turned up ; to do the thing better, separate tickets for herself 
 and for Miss Nugent were left for each member of the family ; 
 and her civil messages, left with the footman, extended to the 
 utmost possibility of remainder. It had occurred to her lady- 
 ship that for Miss Somebody, t/ie companion, of whom she 
 had never in her life thought before, she had omitted to 
 leave a card last time, and she now left a note of explanation ; 
 she further, with her rheumatic head and ami out of the 
 coach-window, sat, the wind blowing keen upon her, explain- 
 ing to the porter and the footman, to discover whether her 
 former tickets had gone safely up to Lady St. James ; and on 
 the present occasion, to make assurance doubly sure, she slid 
 handsome expedition money into the servant's hand — ' Sir, 
 you will be sure to remember.' — ' Oh certainly, your ladyship ! ' 
 She well knew what dire offence has frequently been taken, 
 what sad disasters have occurred, in the fashionable world, 
 from the neglect of a porter in delivering, or of a footman in 
 carrying up one of those talismanic cards. But, in spite of 
 all her manoeuvres, no invitation to the party arrived next day. 
 Pratt was next set to work. Miss Pratt was a most con- 
 
 I5i
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 venient go-between, who, in consequence of doing a thousand 
 little services, to which few others of her rank in life would 
 stoop, had obtained the entree to a number of great houses, 
 and was behind the scenes in many fashionable families. 
 Pratt could find out, and Pratt could hint, and Pratt could 
 manage to get things done cleverly — and hints were given, in 
 all directions, to ivork round to Lady St. James. But stiil 
 they did not take effect. At last Pratt suggested that, 
 perhaps, though everything else had failed, dried salmon 
 might be tried with success. Lord Clonbrony had just had 
 some uncommonly good from Ireland, which Pratt knew Lady 
 St. James would like to have at her supper, because a certain 
 personage, whom she would not name, was particularly fond 
 of it. — Wheel within wheel in the fine world, as well as in 
 the political world ! — Bribes for all occasions, and for all 
 ranks ! The timely present was sent, accepted with many 
 thanks, and understood as it was meant. Per favour of this 
 propitiatory offering, and of a promise of half a dozen pair of 
 real Limerick gloves to Miss Pratt — a promise which Pratt 
 clearly comprehended to be a conditional promise — the grand 
 object was at length accomplished. The very clay before the 
 party was to take place came cards of invitation to Lady 
 Clonbrony and to Miss Nugent, with Lady St. James's 
 apologies ; her ladyship was concerned to find that, by some 
 negligence of her servants, these cards were not sent in proper 
 time. ' How slight an apology will do from some people ! ' 
 thought Miss Nugent ; ' how eager to forgive, when it is for 
 our interest or our pleasure ; how well people act the being 
 deceived, even when all parties know that they see the whole 
 truth ; and how low pride will stoop to gain its object ! ' 
 
 Ashamed of the whole transaction, Miss Nugent earnestly 
 wished that a refusal should be sent, and reminded her aunt 
 of her rheumatism ; but rheumatism and all other objections 
 were overruled — Lady Clonbrony would go. It was just when 
 this affair was thus, in her opinion, successfully settled, that 
 Lord Colambre came in, with a countenance of unusual seri- 
 ousness, his mind full of the melancholy scenes he had 
 witnessed in his friend's family. 
 
 ' What is the matter, Colambre ? ' 
 
 He related what had passed ; he described the brutal 
 conduct of Mordicai ; the anguish of the mother and sisters ; 
 
 "5*
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the distress of Mr. Berryl. Tears rolled down Miss Nugent' s 
 cheeks. Lady Clonbrony declared it was very shocking; 
 listened with attention to all the particulars ; but never failed 
 to correct her son, whenever he said Mr. Berryl. 
 
 ' Sir Arthur Berryl, you mean.' 
 
 She was, however, really touched with compassion when 
 he spoke of Lady Berryl' s destitute condition ; and her son 
 was going on to repeat what Mordicai had said to him, but 
 Lady Clonbrony interrupted — 
 
 ' Oh, my dear Colambre ! don't repeat that detestable 
 man's impertinent speeches to me. If there is anything really 
 about business, speak to your father. At any rate, don't tell 
 us of it now, because I've a hundred things to do,' said her 
 ladyship, hurrying out of the room. ' Grace — Grace Nugent ! 
 I want you ! ' 
 
 Lord Colambre sighed deeply. 
 
 ' Don't despair,' said Miss Nugent, as she followed to obey 
 her aunt's summons. ' Don't despair ; don't attempt to speak 
 to her again till to-morrow morning. Her head is now full of 
 Lady St. James's party. When it is emptied of that, you will 
 have a better chance. Never despair.' 
 
 ' Never, while you encourage me to hope — that any good 
 can be done.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony was particularly glad that she had carried 
 her point about this party at Lady St. James's ; because, from 
 the first private intimation that the Duchess of Torcaster was 
 to be there, her ladyship flattered herself that the long-desired 
 introduction might then be accomplished. But of this hope 
 Lady St. James had likewise received intimation from the 
 double-dealing Miss Pratt ; and a warning note was despatched 
 to the duchess to let her grace know that circumstances 
 had occurred which had rendered it impossible not to ask 
 the Clonbronies. An excuse, of course, for not going to this 
 party was sent by the duchess — her grace did not like large 
 parties — she would have the pleasure of accepting Lady St. 
 James's invitation for her select party on Wednesday the ioth. 
 Into these select parties Lady Clonbrony had never been 
 admitted. In return for her great entertainments she was 
 invited to great entertainments, to large parties ; but farther 
 she could never penetrate. 
 
 At Lady St. James's, and with her set, Lady Clonbrony 
 
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 suffered a different kind of mortification from that which Lady 
 Langdale and Mrs. Dareville made her endure. She was 
 safe from the witty raillery, the sly innuendo, the insolent 
 mimicry ; but she was kept at a cold, impassable distance, by- 
 ceremony — 'So far shah thou go, and no farther' was ex- 
 pressed in every look, in every word, and in a thousand 
 different ways. 
 
 By the most punctilious respect and nice regard to pre- 
 cedency, even by words of courtesy — ' Your ladyship does me 
 honour,' etc. — Lady St. James contrived to mortify and to mark 
 the difference between those with whom she was, and with 
 whom she was not, upon terms of intimacy and equality. 
 Thus the ancient grandees of Spain drew a line of demarcation 
 between themselves and the newly-created nobility. Winn 
 ever or wherever they met, they treated the new nobles with 
 the utmost respect, never addressed them but with all their 
 titles, with low bows, and with all the appearance of being, 
 with the most perfect consideration, anything but their equals ; 
 whilst towards one another the grandees laid aside their state, 
 and omitting their title-, it was, 'Alcala — Medina — Sidonia — 
 lnfantado,' and a freedom and familiarity which marked 
 equality. Entrenched in etiquette in this manner, and mocked 
 with marks of respect, it was impossible either to intrude or to 
 complain of being excluded. 
 
 At supper at Lady St. James's, Lady Clonbrony's present 
 was pronounced by some gentleman to be remarkably high 
 flavoured. This observation turned the conversation to Irish 
 commodities and Ireland. Lady Clonbrony, possessed by the 
 idea that it was disadvantageous to appear as an Irishwoman, 
 or as a favourer of Ireland, began to be embarrassed by Lady 
 St. James's repeated thanks. Had it been in her power to 
 offer anything else with propriety, she would not have thought 
 of sending her ladyship anything from Ireland. Vexed by the 
 questions that were asked her about her country, Lady 
 Clonbrony, as usual, denied it to be her country, and went on 
 to depreciate and abuse everything Irish ; to declare that 
 there was no possibility of living in Ireland ; and that, for her 
 own part, she was resolved never to return thither. Lady St. 
 James, preserving perfect silence, let her go on. Lady 
 Clonbrony, imagining that this silence arose from coincidence 
 of opinion, proceeded with all the eloquence she possessed, 
 
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 which was very little, repeating the same exclamations, and 
 reiterating her vow of perpetual expatriation ; till at last an 
 elderly lad)-, who was a stranger to her, and whom she had till 
 this moment scarcely noticed, took up the defence of Ireland 
 with much warmth and energy : the eloquence with which she 
 spoke, and the respect with which she was heard, astonished 
 Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 'Who is she ?' whispered her ladyship. 
 
 'Does not your ladyship know Lady Oranmore — the Irish 
 Lady Oranmore ? ' 
 
 ' Lord bless me I — what have I said ! — what have I done ! 
 Oh ! why did not you give me a hint, Lady St. James ?' 
 
 ' 1 was not aware that your ladyship was not acquainted 
 with Lady Oranmore,' replied Lady St. James, unmoved by 
 her distress. 
 
 Everybody sympathised with Lady Oranmore, and admired 
 the honest zeal with which she abided by her country, and 
 defended it against unjust aspersions and affected execrations. 
 Every one present enjoyed Lady Clonbrony's confusion, except 
 Miss Nugent, who sat with her eyes bowed clown by penetra- 
 tive shame during the whole of this scene ; she was glad 
 that Lord Colambre was not witness to it ; and comforted 
 herself with the hope that, upon the whole, Lady Clonbrony 
 would be benefited by the pain she had felt. This instance 
 might convince her that it was not necessary to deny her 
 country to be received in any company in England ; and that 
 those who have the courage and steadiness to be themselves, 
 and to support what they feel and believe to be the truth, must 
 command respect. Miss Nugent hoped that in consequence 
 of this conviction Lady Clonbrony would lay aside the little 
 affectations by which her manners were painfully constrained 
 and ridiculous ; and, above all, she hoped that what Lady 
 Oranmore had said of Ireland might dispose her aunt to listen 
 with patience to all Lord Colambre might urge in favour of 
 returning to her home. But Miss Nugent hoped in vain. 
 Lady Clonbrony never in her life generalised any observations, 
 or drew any but a partial conclusion from the most striking 
 facts. 
 
 ' Lord ! my dear Grace ! ' said she, as soon as they were 
 seated in their carriage, ' what a scrape I got into to-night 
 at supper, and what disgrace I came to ! — and all this because 
 
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 I did not know Lady Oranmore. Now you see the inconceiv- 
 able disadvantage of not knowing everybody — everybody of a 
 certain rank, of course, I mean.' 
 
 Miss Nugent endeavoured to slide in her own moral on the 
 occasion, but it would not do. 
 
 ' Yes, my dear, Lady ( Manmore may talk in that kind of 
 style of Ireland, because, on the other hand, she is so highly 
 connected in England ; and, besides, she is an old lady, and 
 may take liberties ; in short, she is Lady Oranmore, and that's 
 enough.' 
 
 The next morning, when they all met at breakfast, Lady 
 Clonbrony complained bitterly of her increased rheumatism, of 
 the disagreeable, stupid party they had had the preceding 
 night, and of the necessity of going to another formal party 
 that night, the next, and the next, and, in the true fine lady 
 style, deplored her situation, and the impossibility of avoiding 
 those things, 
 
 Which felt they curse, yet covet still to feel. 
 
 Mi^s Nugent determined to retire as soon as she could 
 from the breakfast -room, to leave Lord Colambre an oppor- 
 tunity of talking over his family affairs at full liberty. She 
 knew by the seriousness of his countenance that his mind was 
 intent upon doing so, and she hoped that his influence with 
 his father and mother would not be exerted in vain. But 
 just as she was rising from the breakfast-table, in came Sir 
 Terence O'Fay, and, seating himself quite at his ease, in spite 
 of Lady Clonbrony"s repulsive looks, his awe of Lord Colambre 
 having now worn off — 
 
 'I'm tired,' said he, 'and have a right to be tired ; for it's 
 no small walk I've taken for the good of this noble family this 
 morning. And, Miss Nugent, before I say more, I'll take a 
 cup of ta from you, if you please.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony rose, with great stateliness, and walked to 
 the farthest end of the room, where she established herself at 
 her writing-table, and began to write notes. 
 
 Sir Terence wiped his forehead deliberately. 
 
 ' Then I've had a fine run — Miss Nugent, I believe you 
 never saw me run ; but I can run, I promise you, when it's 
 to serve a friend. And, my lord (turning to Lord Clonbrony), 
 what do vou think I run for this morning — to buv a bargain 
 
 156
 
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 — and of what ? — a bargain of a bad debt — a debt of yours, 
 which I bargained for, and up just in time — and Mordicai's 
 ready to hang himself this minute. For what do you think 
 but that rascal was bringing upon you — but an execution ? — 
 he was.' 
 
 1 An execution ! ' repeated everybody present, except Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 'And how has this been prevented, sir? - * said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 1 Oh ! let me alone for that,' said Sir Terence. ' I got a hint 
 from my little friend, Paddy Brady, who would not be paid for 
 it either, though he's as poor as a rat. Well ! as soon as I 
 got the hint, I dropped the thing I had in my hand, which was 
 the Dublin Evening, and ran for the bare life — for there wasn't 
 a coach — in my slippers, as I was, to get into the prior 
 creditor's shoes, who is the little solicitor that lives in Crutched 
 Friars, which Mordicai never dreamt of, luckily ; so he was 
 very genteel, though he was taken on a sudden, and from his 
 breakfast, which an Englishman don't like particularly — I 
 popped him a douceur of a draught, at thirty-one days, on 
 Garraghty, the agent ; of which he must get notice ; but I 
 won't descant on the law before the ladies — he handed me 
 over his debt and execution, and he made me prior creditor in 
 a trice. Then I took coach in state, the first I met, and away 
 with me to Long Acre — saw Mordicai. "Sir," says I, "I 
 hear you're meditating an execution on a friend of mine." 
 " Am I ? " said the rascal ; " who told you so ? " " No matter," 
 said I ; " but I just called in to let you know there's no use in 
 life of your execution ; for there's a prior creditor with his 
 execution to be satisfied first." So he made a great many 
 black faces, and said a great deal, which I never listened to, 
 but came off here clean to tell you all the story.' 
 
 ' Not one word of which do I understand,' said Lady 
 Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Then, my dear, you are very ungrateful,' said Lord 
 Clonbrony. 
 
 Lord Colambre said nothing, for he wished to learn more of 
 Sir Terence O'Fay's character, of the state of his father's affairs, 
 and of the family methods of proceeding in matters of business. 
 
 ' Faith ! Terry, I know I'm very thankful to you — but an 
 execution's an ugly thing — and I hope there's no danger ' 
 
 157
 
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 ' Never fear ! ' said Sir Terence : ' haven't I been at my wits' 
 ends for myself or my friends ever since I come to man's estate 
 — to years of discretion, I should say, for the deuce a foot of 
 estate have I ! But use has sharpened my wits pretty well for 
 your service ; so never be in dread, my good lord ; for look 
 ye ! ' cried the reckless knight, sticking his arms akimbo — ' look 
 ye here ! in Sir Terence O'Fay stands a host that desires no 
 better than to encounter, single witted, all the duns in the 
 united kingdoms, Mordicai the Jew inclusive.' 
 
 'Ah ! that's the devil, that Mordicai,' said Lord Clonbrony ; 
 1 that's the only man on earth I dread.' 
 
 'Why, he is only a coachmaker, is not he?' said Lady 
 Clonbrony : ' I can't think how you can talk, my lord, of 
 dreading such a low man. Tell him, if he's troublesome, we 
 won't bespeak any more carriages ; and, I'm sure, I wish you 
 would not be so silly, my lord, to employ him any more, when 
 you know he disappointed me the last birthday about the 
 landau, which I have not got yet.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, my dear,' said Lord Clonbrony ; ' you don't know 
 what you are talking of. Terry, I say, even a friendly 
 execution is an ugly thing.' 
 
 ' Phoo ! phoo ! — an ugly thing ! So is a fit of the gout — 
 but one's all the better for it after. 'Tis just a renewal of life, 
 my lord, for which one must pay a bit of a fine, you know. 
 Take patience, and leave me to manage all properly — you 
 know I'm used to these things. Only you recollect, if you 
 
 please, how I managed my friend Lord ; it's bad to be 
 
 mentioning names — but Lord ci'erybody - knows-who — didn't I 
 bring him through cleverly, when there was that rascally 
 attempt to seize the family plate ? I had notice, and what did I 
 do, but broke open a partition between that lord's house and 
 my lodgings, which I had taken next door ; and so, when the 
 sheriffs officers were searching below on the ground floor, I 
 just shoved the plate easy through to my bedchamber at a 
 moment's warning, and then bid the gentlemen walk in, for 
 they couldn't set a foot in my paradise, the devils ! So they 
 stood looking at it through the wall, and cursing me, and I 
 holding both my sides with laughter at their fallen faces.' 
 
 Sir Terence and Lord Clonbrony laughed in concert. 
 
 'This is a good story,' said Miss Nugent, smiling; 'but 
 surely, Sir Terence, such things are never done in real life ?' 
 
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 ' Done ! ay, are they ; and I could tell you a hundred better 
 strokes, my dear Miss Nugent.' 
 
 ' Grace ! ' cried Lady Clonbronv, ' do pray have the good- 
 
 
 ' " So they stood looking at it through the wall." ' 
 
 ness to seal and send these notes ; for really,' whispered she, 
 as her niece came to the table, ' I cawnt s/ca, I cawnt bear that 
 man's vice, his accent grows horrider and horrider ! ' 
 
 Her ladyship rose, and left the room. 
 
 ' Why, then,' continued Sir Terence, following up Miss 
 
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 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Nugent to the table, where she was sealing letters, % I must 
 tell you how I served that same man on another occasion, 
 and got the victory too.' 
 
 No general officer could talk of his victories, or fight his 
 battles o'er again, with more complacency than Sir Terence 
 O'Fay recounted his civil exploits. 
 
 'Now I'll tell Miss Nugent. There was a footman in the 
 family, not an Irishman, but one of your powdered English 
 scoundrels that ladies are so fond of having hanging to the 
 backs of their carriages ; one Fleming he was, that turned spy, 
 and traitor, and informer, went privately and gave notice to 
 the creditors where the plate was hid in the thickness of the 
 chimney ; but if he did, what happened ? Why, I had my 
 counter-spy, an honest little Irish boy, in the creditor's shop, 
 that I had secured with a little douceur of usquebaugh ; and 
 he outwitted, as was natural, the English lying valet, and gave 
 us notice just in the nick, and I got ready for their reception ; 
 and, Miss Nugent, I only wish you'd seen the excellent sport 
 we had, letting them follow the scent they got ; and when they 
 were sure of their game, what did they find ? — Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 — dragged out, after a world of labour, a heavy box of — a 
 load of brickbats ; not an item of my friend's plate — that was 
 all snug in the coal-hole, where them dunces never thought of 
 looking for it. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 
 
 ' But come, Terry,' cried Lord Clonbrony, ' I'll pull down 
 your pride. How finely, another time, your job of the false 
 ceiling answered in the hall. I've heard that story, and have 
 been told how the sheriff's fellow thrust his bayonet up through 
 your false plaster, and down came tumbling the family plate — 
 hey, Terry ? That hit cost your friend, Lord everybody - 
 knows -who, more than your head's worth, Terry.' 
 
 ' I ask your pardon, my lord, it never cost him a farthing.' 
 
 'When he paid £~jooo for the plate, to redeem it ?' 
 
 ' Well ! and did not I make up for that at the races of 
 
 ? The creditors learned that my lord's horse, Naboclish, 
 
 was to run at races ; and, as the sheriff's officer knew he 
 
 dare not touch him on the race-ground, what does he do, but 
 he comes down early in the morning on the mail-coach, and 
 walks straight down to the livery stables. He had an exact 
 description of the stables, and the stall, and the horse's body- 
 clothes. 
 
 1 60
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' I was there, seeing the horse taken care of ; and, knowing 
 the cut of the fellow's jib, what does I do, but whips the body- 
 clothes off Naboclish, and claps them upon a garrone that the 
 priest would not ride. 
 
 ' In comes the bailiff — " Good morrow to you, sir," says I, 
 leading out of the stable my lord's horse, with an ouhi saddle 
 and bridle on. 
 
 ' " Tim Xeal," says I to the groom, who was rubbing down 
 the garrone's heels, " mind your hits to-day, and weJl wet the 
 plate to-night." 
 
 ' " Not so fast, neither," says the bailiff — " here's my writ 
 for seizing the horse." 
 
 ' " Och," says I, " you wouldn't be so cruel." ' 
 
 ' " That's all my eye," says he, seizing the garrone, while I 
 mounted Naboclish, and rode him off deliberately to ' 
 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ha ! — That was neat, I grant you, Terr)-,' said 
 Lord Clonbrony. ' But what a dolt of a born ignoramus must 
 that sheriffs fellow have been, not to know Naboclish when he 
 saw him ! ' 
 
 'But stay, my lord — stay, Miss Nugent — I have more for 
 you,' following her wherever she moved. ' I did not let him 
 off so, even. At the cant, I bid and bid against them for the 
 pretended Naboclish, till I left him on their hands for 500 
 guineas. Ha ! ha ! ha ! — was not that famous ? ' 
 
 ' But,' said Miss Nugent, ' I cannot believe you are in 
 earnest, Sir Terence. Surely this would be ' 
 
 'What ? — out with it, my dear Miss Nugent.' 
 
 ' I am afraid of offending you.' 
 
 ' You can't, my dear, I defy you — say the word that came 
 to the tongue's end ; it's always the best.' 
 
 • I was going to say, swindling,' said the young lady, 
 colouring deeply. 
 
 ' Oh ! you was going to say wrong, then ! It's not called 
 swindling amongst gentlemen who know the world — it's only 
 jockeying — fine sport — and very honourable to help a friend 
 at a dead lift. Anything to get a friend out of a present 
 pressing difficulty.' 
 
 ' And when the present difficulty is over, do your friends 
 never think of the future ? ' 
 
 ' The future ! leave the future to posterity,' said Sir Terence ; 
 ' I'm counsel only for the present ; and when the evil comes. 
 
 161 M
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 it's time enough to think of it. I can't bring the guns of my 
 wits to bear till the enemy's alongside of me, or within sight 
 of me at the least. And besides, there never was a good 
 commander yet, by sea or land, that would tell his little 
 expedients beforehand, or before the very day of battle.' 
 
 ' It must be a sad thing,' said Miss Nugent, sighing 
 deeply, 'to be reduced to live by little expedients — daily 
 expedients.' 
 
 Lord Colambre struck his forehead, but said nothing. 
 
 1 But if you are beating your brains about your own affairs, 
 my Lord Colambre, my dear,' said Sir Terence, ' there's an 
 easy way of settling your family affairs at once ; and, since you 
 don't like little daily expedients, Miss Nugent, there's one 
 great expedient, and an expedient for life, that will settle it all 
 to your satisfaction — and ours. I hinted it delicately to you 
 before, but, between friends, delicacy is impertinent ; so I tell 
 you, in plain English, you've nothing to do but go and propose 
 
 yourself, just as you stand, to the heiress Miss B , that 
 
 desires no better ' 
 
 ' Sir ! ' cried Lord Colambre, stepping forward, red with 
 sudden anger. Miss Nugent laid her hand upon his arm — 
 
 1 Oh, my lord ! ' 
 
 ' Sir Terence O'Fay,' continued Lord Colambre, in a 
 moderated tone, ' you are wrong to mention that young lady's 
 name in such a manner.' 
 
 ' Why, then, I said only Miss B , and there are a 
 
 whole hive of bees. But I'll engage she'd thank me for what I 
 suggested, and think herself the queen bee if my expedient 
 was adopted by you.' 
 
 ' Sir Terence,' said his lordship, smiling, ' if my father 
 thinks proper that you should manage his affairs, and devise 
 expedients for him, I have nothing to say on that point ; but I 
 must beg you will not trouble yourself to suggest expedients 
 for me, and that you will have the goodness to leave me to 
 settle my own affairs.' 
 
 Sir Terence made a low bow, and was silent for five 
 seconds ; then turning to Lord Clonbrony, who looked much 
 more abashed than he did — 
 
 ' By the wise one, my good lord, I believe there are some 
 men — noblemen, too — that don't know their friends from their 
 enemies. It's my firm persuasion, now, that if I had served 
 
 162
 
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 you as I served my friend I was talking of, your son there 
 would, ten to one, think I had done him an injury by saving 
 the family plate.' 
 
 ' I certainly should, sir. The family plate, sir, is not the 
 first object in my mind,' replied Lord Colambre ; ' family 
 
 honour Nay, Miss Nugent, I must speak,' continued his 
 
 lordship, perceiving, by her countenance, that she was 
 alarmed. 
 
 ' Never fear, Miss Nugent dear,' said Sir Terence ; ' I'm as 
 cool as a cucumber. Faith ! then, my Lord Colambre, I 
 agree with you, that family honour's a mighty fine thing, only 
 troublesome to one's self and one's friends, and expensive to 
 keep up with all the other expenses and debts a gentleman 
 has nowadays. So I, that am under no natural obligations to 
 it by birth or otherwise, have just stood by through life, and 
 asked myself, before I would volunteer being bound to it, 
 what could this same family honour do for a man in this world ? 
 And, first and foremost, I never remember to see family honour 
 stand a man in much stead in a court of law — never saw family 
 honour stand against an execution, or a custodiam, or an 
 injunction even. 'Tis a rare thing, this same family honour, 
 and a very fine thing ; but I never knew it yet, at a pinch, 
 pay for a pair of boots even,' added Sir Terence, drawing up 
 his own with much complacency. 
 
 At this moment Sir Terence was called out of the room by 
 one who wanted to speak to him on particular business. 
 
 ' My dear father,' cried Lord Colambre, ' do not follow 
 him; stay for one moment, and hear your son — your true 
 friend.' 
 
 Miss Nugent went out of the room, that she might leave 
 the father and son at liberty. 
 
 ' Hear your natural friend for one moment,' cried Lord 
 Colambre. ' Let me beseech you, father, not to have recourse 
 to any of these paltry expedients, but trust your son with the 
 state of your affairs, and we shall find some honourable 
 means ' 
 
 'Yes, yes, yes, very true; when you're of age, Colambre, 
 we'll talk of it ; but nothing can be done till then. We shall 
 get on, we shall get through, very well, till then, with Terry's 
 assistance. And I must beg you will not say a word more 
 against Terry — I can't bear it — I can't hear it — I can't do 
 
 163
 
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 without him. Pray don't detain me— I ran say no more — 
 except,' added he, returning to his usual concluding sentence, 
 ' that there need, at all events, be none of this, if people would 
 but live upon their own estates, and kill their own mutton.' 
 He stole out of the room, glad to escape, however shabbily, 
 from present explanation and present pain. There are persons 
 without resource who in difficulties return always to the same 
 point, and usually to the same words. 
 
 While Lord Colambre was walking up and down the room, 
 much vexed and disappointed at finding that he could make 
 no impression on his fathers mind, nor obtain his confidence 
 as to his family affairs, Lady Clonbrony s woman, Mrs. Petito, 
 knocked at the door, with a message from her lady, to beg, if 
 Lord Colambre was by himself, he would go to her dressirig- 
 room, as she wished to have a conference with him. He 
 obeyed her summons. 
 
 ' Sit down, my dear Colambre ' And she b< 
 
 precisely with her old sentence — 
 
 'With the fortune I brought your father, and with my lord's 
 estate, I caitmt understand the meaning of all these pecuniary 
 difficulties ; and all that strange creature Sir Terence says is 
 bra to me, who speak English. And I am particularly 
 sorry he was let in this morning — but he's such a brute that 
 he does not think anything of forcing one's door, and he tells 
 my footman he docs not mind not at home a pinch of snuff. 
 Now what can you do with a man who could say that sort of 
 thing, you know — the world's at an end.' 
 
 • I wish my father had nothing to do with him, ma'am, as 
 much as you can wish it,' said Lord Colambre ; ' but I have 
 said all that a son can with propriety say, and without effect.' 
 
 ' What particularly provokes me against him,' continued Lady 
 Clonbrony, ' is what I have just heard from Grace, who was 
 really hurt by it, too, for she is the warmest friend in the 
 world : I allude to the creature's indelicate way of touching 
 upon a tender/?';;/, and mentioning an amiable young heiress's 
 name. My dear Colambre, I trust you have given me credit 
 for my inviolable silence all this time upon the pint nearest 
 my heart. I am rejoiced to hear you was so warm when she 
 was mentioned inadvertently by that brute, and I trust you 
 now see the advantages of the projected union in as strong and 
 agreeable a pint of view as I do, my own Colambre ; and 1 
 
 164
 
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 should leave things to themselves, and let you prolong the dees of 
 courtship as you please, only for what I now hear incidentally 
 from my lord and the brute, about pecuniary embarrassments, 
 and the necessity of something being done before next winter. 
 And indeed I think now, in propriety, the proposal cannot be 
 delayed much longer ; for the world begins to talk of the thing 
 as done ; and even Mrs. Broadhurst, I know, had no doubt 
 that, if this contretemps about the poor Berryls had not occurred, 
 your proposal would have been made before the end of last 
 week.' 
 
 Our hero was not a man to make a proposal because Mrs. 
 Broadhurst expected it, or to marry because the world said he 
 was going to be married. He steadily said that, from the 
 first moment the subject had been mentioned, he had explained 
 himself distinctly ; that the young lady's friends could not, 
 therefore, be under any doubt as to his intentions ; that, if 
 they had voluntarily deceived themselves, or exposed the lady 
 in situations from which the world was led to make false con- 
 clusions, he was not answerable : he felt his conscience at ease 
 — entirely so, as he was convinced that the young lady her- 
 self, for whose merit, talents, independence, and generosity of 
 character he professed high respect, esteem, and admiration, 
 had no doubts either of the extent or the nature of his regard. 
 
 ' Regard, respect, esteem, admiration ! — Why, my dearest 
 Colambre ! this is saying all I want ; satisfies me, and I am 
 sure would satisfy Mrs Broadhurst and Miss Broadhurst too.' 
 
 • No doubt it will, ma'am ; but not if I aspired to the 
 honour of Miss Broadhurst's hand, or professed myself her 
 lover.' 
 
 ' My dear, you are mistaken ; Miss Broadhurst is too 
 sensible a girl, a vast deal, to look for love, and a dying lover, 
 and all that sort of stuff; I am persuaded — indeed I have it 
 from good, from the best authority— that the young lady — you 
 know one must be delicate in these cases, where a young lady 
 of such fortune, and no despicable family too is concerned ; 
 therefore I cannot speak quite plainly — but I say I have it 
 from the best authority, that you would be preferred to any 
 other suitor, and, in short, that ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, madam, for interrupting you,' cried 
 Lord Colambre, colouring a good deal ; ' but you must excuse 
 me if I sav, that the only authority on which I could believe 
 
 165
 
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 this is one from which I am morally certain I shall never hear 
 it — from Miss Broadhurst herself.' 
 
 ' Lord, child ! if you would only ask her the question, she 
 would tell you it is truth, I daresay.' 
 
 ' But as I have no curiosity on the subject, ma'am ' 
 
 ' Lord bless me ! I thought everybody had curiosity. But 
 still, without curiosity, I am sure it would gratify you when 
 you did hear it ; and can't you just put the simple question ?' 
 
 ' Impossible ! ' 
 
 ' Impossible ! — now that is so very provoking when the 
 thing is all but done. Well, take your own time ; all I will 
 ask of you then is, to let things go on as they are going — 
 smoothly and pleasantly ; and I'll not press you farther on the 
 subject at present. Let things go on smoothly, that's all I ask, 
 and say nothing.' 
 
 ' I wish I could oblige you, mother ; but I cannot do this. 
 Since you tell mc that the world and Miss I'.roadhurst's friends 
 have already misunderstood my intentions, it becomes neces- 
 sary, in justice to the young lady and to myself, that I should 
 make all further doubt impossible. I shall, therefore, put an 
 end to it at once, by leaving town to-morrow.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony, breathless for a moment with surprise, 
 exclaimed, 'Bless me! leave town to-morrow ! Just at the 
 beginning of the season ! Impossible ! — I never saw such a 
 precipitate, rash young man. But stay only a few weeks, 
 Colambre ; the physicians advise Buxton for my rheumatism, 
 and you shall take us to Buxton early in the season — you 
 cannot refuse me that. Why, if Miss Broadhurst was a dragon, 
 you could not be in a greater hurry to run away from her. 
 What are you afraid of?' 
 
 'Of doing what is wrong — the only thing, I trust, of which 
 I shall ever be afraid.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony tried persuasion and argument — such 
 argument as she could use — but all in vain — Lord Colambre 
 was firm in his resolution ; at last, she came to tears ; and her 
 son, in much agitation, said — 
 
 ' I cannot bear this, mother ! I would do anything you ask, 
 that I could do with honour ; but this is impossible.' 
 
 1 Why impossible ? I will take all blame upon myself ; and 
 you are sure that Miss Broadhurst does not misunderstand 
 you, and you esteem her, and admire her, and all that ; and 
 
 166
 
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 all I ask is, that you'll go on as you are, and see more of her ; 
 and how do you know but you may fall in love with her, as you 
 call it, to-morrow ? ' 
 
 • Because, madam, since you press me so far, my affections 
 are engaged to another person. Do not look so dreadfully 
 shocked, my dear mother — I have told you truly, that I think 
 myself too young, much too young, yet to marry. In the 
 circumstances in which I know my family are, it is probable 
 that I shall not for some years be able to marry as I wish. 
 You may depend upon it that I shall not take any step, I shall 
 not even declare my attachment to the object of my affection, 
 without your knowledge ; and, far from being inclined to follow 
 headlong my own passions — strong as they are — be assured 
 that the honour of my family, your happiness, my mother, my 
 father's, are my first objects : I shall never think of my own 
 till these are secured.' 
 
 Of the conclusion of this speech, Lady Clonbrony heard 
 only the sound of the words ; from the moment her son had 
 pronounced that his affections were engaged, she had been 
 running over in her head every probable and improbable person 
 she could think of ; at last, suddenly starting up, she opened 
 one of the folding -doors into the next apartment, and 
 called — 
 
 ' Grace ! — Grace Nugent ! — put down your pencil, Grace, 
 this minute, and come here ! ' 
 
 Miss Nugent obeyed with her usual alacrity ; and the 
 moment she entered the room, Lady Clonbrony, fixing her eyes 
 full upon her, said — 
 
 ' There's your cousin Colambre tells me his affections are 
 engaged.' 
 
 1 Yes, to Miss Broadhurst, no doubt,' said Miss Nugent, 
 smiling, with a simplicity and openness of countenance which 
 assured Lady Clonbrony that all was safe in that quarter : a 
 suspicion which had darted into her mind was dispelled. 
 
 ' No doubt. Ay, do you hear that no doubt, Colambre ? — 
 Grace, you see, has no doubt ; nobody has any doubt but 
 yourself, Colambre.' 
 
 'And are your affections engaged, and not to Miss Broad- 
 hurst ? ' said Miss Nugent, approaching Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' There now ! you see how you surprise and disappoint 
 everybody, Colambre.' 
 
 167
 
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 'I am sorry that Miss Nugent should be disappointed,' 
 said Lord Colambre. 
 
 'But because I am disappointed, pray do not call me Mi 
 Nugent, or turn away from me, as if you were displeased.' 
 
 ' It must, then, be some Cambridgeshire lady,' said Lady 
 Clonbrony. 'I am sure I am very sorry he ever went to Cam 
 bridge, — Oxford I advised : one of the Miss Berryls, I presume, 
 who have nothing. I'll have nothing more to do with those 
 Berryls — there was the reason of the son's vast intimacy. 
 Grace, you may give up all thoughts of Sir Arthur.' 
 
 'I have no thoughts to . ma'am,' said Miss Nugent, 
 
 smiling. 'Miss Broad hurst,' continued she, going on eag 
 with what she was saying to Lord Colambre — ' Miss Broad- 
 hurst is my friend, a friend I love and admire ; but you will 
 allow that I strictly kept my promise, never to praise her t<> 
 you, till you should begin to praise her to me. Now recollect, 
 last night, you did praise her to me, so justly, that I thought 
 you liked her, I confess ; so that it is natural I should feel a 
 little disappointed. Now you know the whole of my mind ; I 
 have no intention to encroach on your confidence ; therefore, 
 there is no occasion to look so embarrassed. I give you my 
 word, I will never speak to you again upon the subject,' said 
 she, holding out her hand to him, ' provided you will never 
 again call me Miss Nugent. Am I not your own cousin 
 Grace ? — Do not be displeased with her.' 
 
 ' You are my own dear cousin Grace ; and nothing can be 
 farther from my mind than any thought of being displeased 
 with her ; especially just at this moment, when I am going 
 away, probably for a considerable time.' 
 
 ' Away ! — when ? — where ? ' 
 
 'To-morrow morning, for Ireland.' 
 
 'Ireland! of all places,' cried Lady Clonbrony. 'What 
 upon earth puts it into your head to go to Ireland ? You do 
 very well to go out of the way of falling in love ridiculously, 
 since that is the reason of your going; but what put Ireland 
 into your head, child ? ' 
 
 'I will not presume to ask my mother what put Ireland 
 out of her head,' said Lord Colambre, smiling ; ' but she will 
 recollect that it is my native country.' 
 
 'That was your father's fault, not mine,' said Lady Clon- 
 brony; 'for I wished to have been confined in England; but 
 
 168
 
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 he would have it to say that his son and heir was born at 
 Clonbrony Castle — and there was a great argument between 
 him and my uncle, and something about the Prince of Wales 
 and Caernarvon Castle was thrown in, and that turned the 
 scale, much against my will ; for it was my wish that my son 
 should be an Englishman born — like myself. But, after all, I 
 don't see that having the misfortune to be born in a country 
 should tie one to it in any sort of way ; and I should have 
 hoped your English cdkation, Colambre, would have given you 
 too liberal idears for that— so I reelly don't see why you should 
 go to Ireland merely because it's your native country.' 
 
 ' Not merely because it is my native country ; but I wish to 
 go thither — I desire to become acquainted with it — because it 
 is the country in which my father's property lies, and from 
 which we draw our subsistence.' 
 
 'Subsistence! Lord bless me, what a word! filler for a 
 pauper than a nobleman — subsistence ! Then, if you are going 
 to look after your father's property, I hope you will make the 
 agents do their duty, and send us remittances. And pray how 
 long do you mean to stay ? ' 
 
 ' Till I am of age, madam, if you have no objection. I will 
 spend the ensuing months in travelling in Ireland ; and I will 
 return here by the time I am of age, unless you and my father 
 should, before that time, be in Ireland.' 
 
 ' Not the least chance of that, if I can prevent it, I promise 
 you,' said Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent sighed. 
 
 'And I am sure I shall take it very unkindly of you, 
 Colambre, if you go and turn out a partisan for Ireland, after 
 all, like Grace Nugent.' 
 
 ' A partisan ! no ;— I hope not a partisan, but a friend,' said 
 Miss Nugent. 
 
 ' Nonsense, child !— I hate to hear people, women especially, 
 and young ladies particularly, talk of being friends to this 
 country or that country. What can they know about coun- 
 tries ? Better think of being friends to themselves, and friends 
 to their friends. ' 
 
 ' I was wrong,' said Miss Nugent, ' to call myself a friend 
 to Ireland; I meant to say, that Ireland had been a friend to 
 me; that I found Irish friends, when I had no other; an Irish 
 home, when I had no other ; that my earliest and happiest 
 
 169
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 years, under your kind care, had been spent there ; and that I 
 can never forget that, my dear aunt — I hope you do not wish 
 that I should.' 
 
 ' Heaven forbid, my sweet Grace ! ' said Lady Clonbrony, 
 touched by her voice and manner — ' Heaven forbid ! I don't 
 wish you to do or be anything but what you are ; for I am 
 convinced there's nothing I could ask you would not do for 
 me ; and, I can tell you, there's few things you could ask, love, 
 I would not do for you.' 
 
 A wish was instantly expressed in the eyes of her niece. 
 
 Lady Clonbrony, though not usually quick at interpreting 
 the wishes of others, understood and answered, before she 
 ventured to make her request in words. 
 
 ' Ask anything but that, Grace. Return to Clonbrony, 
 while I am able to live in London ? That I never can or will do 
 for you or anybody ! ' looking at her son in all the pride of 
 obstinacy ; ' so there is an end of the matter. Go you where 
 you please, Colambre ; and I shall stay where I please : — I 
 suppose, as your mother, I have a right to say this much ? ' 
 
 Her son, with the utmost respect, assured her that he had 
 no design to infringe upon her undoubted liberty of judging for 
 herself; that he had never interfered, except so far as to tell 
 her circumstances of her affairs, with which she seemed to be 
 totally unacquainted, and of which it might be dangerous to 
 her to continue in ignorance. 
 
 ' Don't talk to me about affairs,' cried she, drawing her 
 hand away from her son. 'Talk to my lord, or my lord's 
 agents, since you are going to Ireland, about business — I know 
 nothing about business ; but this I know, I shall stay in 
 England, and be in London, every season, as long as I can 
 afford it ; and when I cannot afford to live here, I hope I 
 shall not live anywhere. That's my notion of life ; and that's 
 my determination, once for all ; for, if none of the rest of the 
 Clonbrony family have any, I thank Heaven I have some 
 spirit.' Saying this, with her most stately manner she walked 
 out of the room. Lord Colambre instantly followed her ; for, 
 after the resolution and the promise he had made, he did not 
 dare to trust himself at this moment with Miss Nugent. 
 
 There was to be a concert this night at Lady Clonbrony's, 
 
 hich Mrs. and Miss Broadhurst were, of course, expected. 
 
 That they might not be quite unprepared for the event of hei
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 son's going to Ireland, Lady Clonbrony wrote a note to Mrs. 
 Broadhurst, begging her to come half an hour earlier than the 
 time mentioned in the cards, ' that she might talk over some- 
 thing particular that had just occurred.' 
 
 What passed at this cabinet council, as it seems to have 
 had no immediate influence on affairs, we need not record. 
 Suffice it to observe, that a great deal was said, and nothing 
 done. Miss Broadhurst, however, was not a young lady who 
 could be easily deceived, even where her passions were con- 
 cerned. The moment her mother told her of Lord Colambre's 
 intended departure, she saw the whole truth. She had a strong 
 mind — was capable of drawing aside, at once, the curtain of 
 self-delusion, and looking steadily at the skeleton of truth — 
 she had a generous, perhaps because a strong mind ; for, 
 surrounded, as she had been from her childhood, by every 
 means of self-indulgence which wealth and flattery could 
 bestow, she had discovered early, what few persons in her 
 situation discover till late in life, that selfish gratifications may 
 render us incapable of other happiness, but can never, of 
 themselves, make us happy. Despising flatterers, she had 
 determined to make herself friends — to make them in the 
 only possible way — by deserving them. Her father made 
 his immense fortune by the power and habit of constant, bold, 
 and just calculation. The power and habit which she had 
 learned from him she applied on a far larger scale ; with him, 
 it was confined to speculations for the acquisition of money ; 
 with her, it extended to the attainment of happiness. He was 
 calculating and mercenary : she was estimative and generous. 
 
 Miss Nugent was dressing for the concert, or, rather, was 
 sitting half- dressed before her glass, reflecting, when Miss 
 Broadhurst came into her room. Miss Nugent immediately 
 sent her maid out of the room. 
 
 'Grace,' said Miss Broadhurst, looking at Grace with an 
 air of open, deliberate composure, ' you and I are thinking ot 
 the same thing — of the same person.' 
 
 'Yes, of Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent, ingenuously 
 and sorrowfully. 
 
 ' Then I can put your mind at ease, at once, my dear friend, 
 by assuring you that I shall think of him no more. That I 
 have thought of him, I do not deny — I have thought, that if, 
 notwithstanding the difference in our ages, and other differ- 
 
 171
 
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 ences, he had preferred me, I should have preferred him to 
 any person who has ever yet addressed me. On our first 
 acquaintance, I clearly saw that he was not disposed to pay 
 court to my fortune ; and I had also then coolness of judgment 
 sufficient to perceive that it was not probable he should fall in 
 love with my person. But I was too proud in my humility, 
 too strong in my honesty, too brave, too ignorant ; in short, I 
 knew nothing of the matter. We are all of us, more or less, 
 
 subject to the delusions of vanity, or hope, or love 1 — even 
 
 I ! — who thought myself so clear-sighted, did not know how, with 
 one flutter of his wings, Cupid can set the whole atmosphere 
 in motion ; change the proportions, size, colour, value, of every 
 object ; lead us into a mirage, and leave us in a dismal desert.' 
 
 ' My dearest friend ! ; said Miss Nugent, in a tone of true 
 sympathy. 
 
 ' But none but a coward, or a fool would sit down in the 
 desert and weep, instead of trying to make his way back 
 before the storm rises, obliterates the track, and overwhelms 
 everything. Poetry apart, my dear Grace, you may be 
 assured that I shall think no more of Lord Colambre.' 
 
 ' I believe you are right. But I am sorry, very sorry, it 
 must be so.' 
 
 ' Oh, spare me your sorrow ! ' 
 
 ' My sorrow is for Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent. 
 ' Where will he find such a wife ? — Not in Miss Berryl, I am 
 sure — pretty as she is ; a mere fine lady ! Is it possible that 
 Lord Colambre ! Lord Colambre ! should prefer such a girl 
 — Lord Colambre ! ' 
 
 Miss Broadhurst looked at her friend as she spoke, and 
 saw truth in her eyes ; saw that she had no suspicion that 
 she was herself the person beloved. 
 
 • I'll me, Grace, are you sorry that Lord Colambre is 
 ! away ? ' 
 
 • \", I am glad. I was sorry when I first heard it; but 
 now I am glad, very glad ; it may save him from a marriage un- 
 worthy of him, restore him to himself, and reserve him for 
 
 the only woman I ever saw who is suited to him, who is 
 ( qua! to him, who would value and love him, as he deserves to 
 be valued and loved.' 
 
 4 StO]», my dear; if you mean me, I am not, and I never 
 can be, that woman. Therefore, as you are my friend, and 
 
 '7-
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 wish my happiness, as I sincerely believe you do, never, I 
 conjure you, present such an idea before my mind again — it is 
 out of my mind, I hope, for ever. It is important to me that 
 you should know and believe this. At least I will preserve 
 my friends. Now let this subject never be mentioned or 
 alluded to again between us, my dear. We have subjects 
 enough of conversation ; we need not have recourse to per- 
 nicious sentimental gossipings. There is a great difference 
 between wanting a confidante, and treating a friend with con- 
 fidence. My confidence you possess ; all that ought, all that 
 
 is to be known of my mind, you know, and Now I will 
 
 leave you in peace to dress for the concert.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't go ! you don't interrupt me. 1 shall be dressed 
 in a few minutes ; stay with me, and you may be assured, that 
 neither now, nor at any other time, shall I ever speak to you 
 on the subject you desire me to avoid. I entirely agree with 
 you about confidantes and sentimental gossipings. I love you 
 for not loving them.' 
 
 A thundering knock at the door announced the arrival of 
 company. 
 
 ' Think no more of love, but as much as you please of friend- 
 ship — dress yourself as fast as you can,' said Miss Broadhurst. 
 ' Dress, dress is the order of the day.' 
 
 ' Order of the day and order of the night, and all for people 
 I don't care for in the least,' said Grace. ' So life passes ! ' 
 
 ' Dear me, Miss Nugent,' cried Petito, Lady Clonbrony's 
 woman, coming in with a face of alarm, ' not dressed yet ! 
 My lady is gone clown, and Mrs. Broadhurst and my Lady 
 Pococke's come, and the Honourable Mrs. Tremblcham ; 
 and signor, the Italian singing gentleman, has been walking 
 up and down the apartments there by himself, disconsolate, 
 this half-hour, and I wondering all the time nobody rang for 
 me — but my lady dressed, Lord knows how ! without anybody. 
 Oh, merciful ! Miss Nugent, if you could stand still for one 
 single particle of a second. So then I thought of stepping in 
 to Miss Nugent ; for the young ladies are talking so fast, says 
 I to myself, at the door, they will never know how time goes, 
 unless I give 'em a hint. But now my lady is below, there's 
 no need, to be sure, to be nervous, so we may take the thing 
 quietly, without being in a flustrum. Dear ladies, is not this 
 now a very sudden motion of our young lord's for Ireland ? 
 
 173
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 — Lud a mercy ! Miss Nugent, I'm sure your motions is sudden 
 enough ; and your dress behind is all, I'm sure, I can't tell 
 
 ' " If you could stand still for one single particle of a second." ' 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmitlan &■ Co. 
 
 how.' — ' Oh, never mind,' said the young lady, escaping from 
 her ; ' it will do very well, thank you, Petito.' 
 
 1 It will do very well, never mind,' repeated Petito mutter- 
 
 174
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ing to herself, as she looked after the ladies, whilst they ran 
 downstairs. ' I can't abide to dress any young lady who says 
 never mind, and it will do very well. That, and her never talking 
 to one connW<?«tially, or trusting one with the least bit of her 
 secrets, is the thing I can't put up with from Miss Nugent ; 
 and Miss Broadhurst holding the pins to me, as much as to 
 say, Do your business, Petito, and don't talk. — Now, that's 
 so impertinent, as if one wasn't the same flesh and blood, 
 and had not as good a right to talk of everything, and hear of 
 everything, as themselves. And Mrs. Broadhurst, too, cabinet- 
 councilling with my lady, and pursing up her city mouth when 
 I come in, and turning off the discourse to snuff, forsooth ; as 
 if I was an ignoramus, to think they closeted themselves to 
 talk of snuff. Now, I think a lady of quality's woman has as 
 good a right to be trusted with her lady's secrets as with her 
 jewels ; and if my Lady Clonbrony was a real lady of quality, 
 she'd know that, and consider the one as much my parapher- 
 nalia as the other. So I shall tell my lady to-night, as I 
 always do when she vexes me, that I never lived in an Irish 
 family before, and don't know the ways of it — then she'll tell 
 me she was born in H Oxfordshire — then I shall say, with my 
 saucy look, " Oh, was you, my lady ? — I always forget that you 
 was an Englishwoman : " then maybe she'll say, " Forget ! — 
 you forget yourself strangely, Petito." Then I shall say, with 
 a great deal of dignity, " If your ladyship thinks so, my lady, 
 I'd better go." And I'd desire no better than that she 
 would take me at my word ; for my Lady Dashfort's is a much 
 better place, I'm told, and she's dying to have me, I know.' 
 
 And having formed this resolution, Petito concluded her 
 apparently interminable soliloquy, and went with my lord's 
 gentleman into the antechamber, to hear the concert, and give 
 her judgment on everything ; as she peeped in through the 
 vista of heads into the Apollo saloon — for to-night the Al- 
 hambra was transformed into the Apollo saloon — she saw that 
 whilst the company, rank behind rank, in close semicircles, had 
 crowded round the performers to hear a favourite singer, Miss 
 Broadhurst and Lord Colambre were standing in the outer 
 semicircle, talking to one another earnestly. Now would 
 Petito have given up her reversionary chance of the three 
 nearly new gowns she expected from Lady Clonbrony, in case 
 she stayed ; or, in case she went, the reversionary chance of 
 
 [ 75
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 any dress of Lady Dashfort's except her scarlet velvet, merely 
 to hear what Miss Broadhurst and Lord Colambre were saying. 
 Alas! she could only see their lips move; and of what they 
 were talking, whether of music or love, and whether the match 
 was to be on or off, she could only conjecture. But the 
 diplomatic style having now descended to waiting-maids, Mrs. 
 Petito talked to her friends in the antechamber with as 
 mysterious and consequential an air and tone, as a ch 
 d'affaires, or as the lady of a charge d'affaires, could have 
 assumed. She spoke of hex private belief; of the impression 
 left upon her mind; and her confidantial reasons for thinking 
 as she did; of her 'having had it from the fountain's head ; ' 
 and of 'her fear of any committal of her authorities.' 
 
 Notwithstanding all these authorities, Lord Colambre lett 
 London next day, and pursued his way to Ireland, determined 
 that he would see and judge of that country for himself, and 
 decide whether his mother's dislike to residing there was 
 founded on caprice or reasonable causes. 
 
 In the meantime, it was reported in London that his 
 lordship was gone to Ireland to make out the title to some 
 estate, which would be necessary for his marriage settlement 
 with the great heiress, Miss Broadhurst. Whether Mrs. Petito 
 or Sir Terence O'Fay had the greater share in raising and 
 spreading this report, it would be difficult to determine ; but 
 it is certain, however or by whomsoever raised, it was most 
 useful to Lord Clonbrony, by keeping his creditors quiet. 
 
 176
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 The tide did not permit the packet to reach the Pigeon-house, 
 and the impatient Lord Colambre stepped into a boat, and was 
 rowed across the bay of Dublin. It was a fine summer morn- 
 ing. The sun shone bright on the Wicklow mountains. He 
 admired, he exulted in the beauty of the prospect ; and all the 
 early associations of his childhood, and the patriotic hopes of 
 his riper years, swelled his heart as he approached the shores 
 of his native land. But scarcely had he touched his mother 
 earth, when the whole course of his ideas was changed ; and 
 if his heart swelled, it swelled no more with pleasurable 
 sensations, for instantly he found himself surrounded and 
 attacked by a swarm of beggars and harpies, with strange 
 figures and stranger tones : some craving his charity, some 
 snatching away his luggage, and at the same time bidding 
 him 'never trouble himself,' and 'never fear.' A scramble in 
 the boat and on shore for bags and parcels began, and an 
 amphibious fight betwixt men, who had one foot on sea and 
 one on land, was seen ; and long and loud the battle of trunks 
 and portmanteaus raged ! The vanquished departed, clinching 
 their empty hands at their opponents, and swearing inex- 
 tinguishable hatred ; while the smiling victors stood at ease, 
 each grasping his booty — bag, basket, parcel, or portmanteau : 
 'And, your honour, where will these go? — Where will we 
 carry 'em all to, for your honour ? ' was now the question. 
 Without waiting for an answer, most of the goods were carried 
 at the discretion of the porters to the custom-house, where, to 
 his lordship's astonishment, after this scene of confusion, he 
 found that he had lost nothing but his patience ; all his goods 
 were safe, and a few tinpennies made his officious porters 
 happy men and boys ; blessings were showered upon his 
 
 177 N
 
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 honour, and he was left in peace at an excellent hotel in 
 
 Street, Dublin. He rested, refreshed himself, recovered his 
 good - humour, and walked into the coffee-house, where he 
 found several officers — English, Irish, and Scotch. One 
 English officer, a very gentleman-like, sensible-looking man, of 
 middle age, was sitting reading a little pamphlet, when Lord 
 Colambre entered ; he looked up from time to time, and in a 
 few minutes rose and joined the conversation ; it turned upon 
 the beauties and defects of the city of Dublin. Sir James 
 Brooke, for that was the name of the gentleman, showed one 
 of his brother officers the book which he had been reading, 
 observing that, in his opinion, it contained one of the best views 
 of Dublin which he had ever seen, evidently drawn by the 
 hand of a master, though in a slight, playful, and ironical style : 
 it was ' An intercepted Letter from China.' The conversation 
 extended from Dublin to various parts of Ireland, with all 
 which Sir James Brooke showed that he was well acquainted. 
 Observing that this conversation was particularly interesting 
 to Lord Colambre, and quickly perceiving that he was 
 speaking to one not ignorant of books, Sir James spoke of 
 different representations and misrepresentations of Ireland. 
 In answer to Lord Colambre's inquiries, he named the works 
 which had afforded him most satisfaction ; and with discrimin- 
 ative, not superficial celerity, touched on all ancient and 
 modern authors, from Spenser and Davies to Young and 
 Beaufort. Lord Colambre became anxious to cultivate the 
 acquaintance of a gentleman who appeared so able and willing 
 to afford him information. Sir James Brooke, on his part, 
 was flattered by this eagerness of attention, and pleased by 
 our hero's manners and conversation ; so that, to their mutual 
 satisfaction, they spent much of their time together whilst they 
 were at this hotel ; and, meeting frequently in society in 
 Dublin, their acquaintance every day increased and grew into 
 intimacy — an intimacy which was highly advantageous to Lord 
 Colambre's views of obtaining a just idea of the state of 
 manners in Ireland. Sir James Brooke had at different 
 periods been quartered in various parts of the country — had 
 resided long enough in each to become familiar with the 
 people, and had varied his residence sufficiently to form 
 comparisons between different counties, their habits, and 
 characteristics. Hence he had it in his power to direct the 
 
 178
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 attention of our young observer at once to the points most 
 worthy of his examination, and to save him from the common 
 error of travellers — the deducing general conclusions from a 
 few particular cases, or arguing from exceptions as if they were 
 rules. Lord Colambre, from his family connexions, had of 
 course immediate introduction into the best society in Dublin, 
 or rather into all the good society of Dublin. In Dublin there 
 is positively good company, and positively bad ; but not, as 
 in London, many degrees of comparison : not innumerable 
 luminaries of the polite world, moving in different orbits of 
 fashion, but all the bright planets of note and name move and 
 revolve in the same narrow limits. Lord Colambre did not 
 find that either his father's or his mother's representations of 
 society in Dublin resembled the reality, which he now beheld. 
 Lady Clonbrony had, in terms of detestation, described Dublin 
 such as it appeared to her soon after the Union ; Lord 
 Clonbrony had painted it with convivial enthusiasm, such as he 
 saw it long and long before the Union, when first he drank 
 claret at the fashionable clubs. This picture, unchanged in 
 his memory, and unchangeable by his imagination, had 
 remained, and ever would remain, the same. The hospitality 
 of which the father boasted, the son found in all its warmth, 
 but meliorated and refined ; less convivial, more social ; the 
 fashion of hospitality had improved. To make the stranger 
 eat or drink to excess, to set before him old wine and old 
 plate, was no longer the sum of good breeding. The guest 
 now escaped the pomp of grand entertainments ; was allowed 
 to enjoy ease and conversation, and to taste some of that feast 
 of reason and that flow of soul so often talked of, and so 
 seldom enjoyed. Lord Colambre found a spirit of improve- 
 ment, a desire for knowledge, and a taste for science and 
 literature, in most companies, particularly among gentlemen 
 belonging to the Irish bar ; nor did he in Dublin society see 
 any of that confusion of ranks or predominance of vulgarity of 
 which his mother had complained. Lady Clonbrony had 
 assured him that, the last time she had been at the drawing- 
 room at the Castle, a lady, whom she afterwards found to be 
 a grocer's wife, had turned angrily when her ladyship had 
 accidentally trodden on her train, and had exclaimed with a 
 strong brogue, ' I'll thank you, ma'am, for the rest of my tail.' 
 Sir James Brooke, to whom Lord Colambre, without giving 
 
 179
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 tip his authority, mentioned the fact, declared that he had no 
 doubt the thing had happened precisely as it was stated ; but 
 that this was one of the extraordinary cases which ought not 
 to pass into a general rule — that it was a slight instance of that 
 influence of temporary causes, from which no conclusions, as to 
 national manners, should be drawn. 
 
 'I happened,' continued Sir James, 'to be quartered in 
 Dublin soon after the Union took place ; and I remember the 
 great but transient change that appeared. From the removal 
 of both Houses of Parliament, must of the nobility, and many 
 of the principal families among the Irish commoners, either 
 hurried in high hopes to London, or retired disgusted ami in 
 despair to their houses in the country. Immediately, in Dublin, 
 commerce rose into the vacated scats of rank ; wealth rose 
 into the place of birth. New faces and new equipages ap- 
 peared ; people, who had never been heard of before, started 
 into notice, pushed themselves forward, not scrupling to elbow 
 their way even at the Castle ; and they were presented to 
 my lord- lieutenant and to my lady - lieutenant ; for their 
 Uencies, for the time being, might have played their vice- 
 regal parts to empty benches, had they not admitted such 
 persons for the moment to fill their court. Those of former 
 times, of hereditary pretensions and high-bred minds and 
 manners, were scandalised at all this ; and they complained, 
 with justice, that the whole tone of society was altered ; that 
 the decorum, elegance, polish, and charm of society was gone ; 
 and I among the rest (said Sir James) felt and deplored their 
 change. But, now it is all over, we may acknowledge that, 
 perhaps, even those things which we felt most disagreeable at 
 the time were productive of eventual benefit. 
 
 ' Formerly, a few families had set the fashion. From time 
 immemorial everything had, in Dublin, been submitted to their 
 hereditary authority ; and conversation, though it had been 
 rendered polite by their example, was, at the same time, limited 
 within narrow bounds. Young people, educated upon a more 
 enlarged plan, in time grew up ; and, no authority or fashion 
 forbidding it, necessarily rose to their just place, and enjoyed 
 their due influence in society. The want of manners, joined 
 to the want of knowledge in the new set, created universal 
 disgust : they were compelled, some by ridicule, some by 
 bankruptcies, to fall back into their former places, from which 
 
 I So
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 they could never more emerge. In the meantime, some of the 
 Irish nobility and gentry who had been living at an unusual 
 expense in London — an expense beyond their incomes — were 
 glad to return home to refit ; and they brought with them a 
 new stock of ideas, and some taste for science and literature, 
 which, within these latter years, have become fashionable, 
 indeed indispensable, in London. That part of the Irish 
 aristocracy, who, immediately upon the first incursions of the 
 vulgarians, had fled in despair to their fastnesses in the country, 
 hearing of the improvements which had gradually taken place 
 in society, and assured of the final expulsion of the barbarians, 
 ventured from their retreats, and returned to their posts in 
 town. So that now,' concluded Sir James, 'you find a society 
 in Dublin composed of a most agreeable and salutary mixture 
 of birth and education, gentility and knowledge, manner and 
 matter ; and you see pervading the whole new life and energy, 
 new talent, new ambition, a desire and a determination to 
 improve and be improved — a perception that higher distinc- 
 tion can now be obtained in almost all company, by genius 
 and merit, than by airs and dress. ... So much for the higher 
 order. Now, among the class of tradesmen and shopkeepers, 
 you may amuse yourself, my lord, with marking the difference 
 between them and persons of the same rank in London.' 
 
 Lord Colambre had several commissions to execute for his 
 English friends, and he made it his amusement in every shop 
 to observe the manners and habits of the people. He remarked 
 that there are in Dublin two classes of tradespeople : one, who 
 go into business with intent to make it their occupation for life, 
 and as a slow but sure means of providing for themselves and 
 their families ; another class, who take up trade merely as a 
 temporary resource, to which they condescend for a few years, 
 trusting that they shall, in that time, make a fortune, retire, 
 and commence or recommence gentlemen. The Irish regular 
 men of business are like all other men of business — punctual, 
 frugal, careful, and so forth ; with the addition of more intelli- 
 gence, invention, and enterprise than are usually found in 
 Englishmen of the same rank. But the Dublin tradesmen pro 
 tempore are a class by themselves ; they begin without capital, 
 buy stock upon credit in hopes of making large profits, and, in 
 the same hopes, sell upon credit. Now, if the credit they can 
 obtain is longer than that which they are forced to give, theygo on 
 
 181
 
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 and prosper ; if not, they break, turn bankrupts, and sometimes, 
 as bankrupts, thrive. By such men, of course, every short cut 
 to fortune is followed ; whilst every habit, which requires time 
 to prove its advantage, is disregarded ; nor with such views 
 can a character for punctuality have its just value. In the 
 head of a man who intends to be a tradesman to-day, and a 
 gentleman to-morrow, the ideas of the honesty and the duties 
 of a tradesman, and of the honour and the accomplishments of 
 a gentleman, are oddly jumbled together, and the characteristics 
 of both are lost in the compound. 
 
 He will oblige you, but lie will not obey you ; he will do you 
 ;i favour, but he will not do you justice j he will do anything to 
 serve you, but the particular thing you order he neglects; he 
 asks your pardon, for he would not, for all the goods in his 
 warehouse, disoblige you ; not for the sake of your custom, but 
 he has a particular regard for your family. Economy, in the 
 eyes of such a tradesman, is, if not a mean vice, at least a 
 shabby virtue, which he is too polite to suspect his customers 
 of, and particularly proud to prove himself superior to. Many 
 London tradesmen, after making their thousands and their tens 
 of thousands, feel pride in still continuing to live like plain men 
 of business ; but from the moment a Dublin tradesman of this 
 style has made a few hundreds, he sets up his gig, and then 
 his head is in his carriage, and not in his business ; and when 
 he has made a few thousands, he buys or builds a country-house 
 — and then, and thenceforward, his head, heart, and soul are 
 in his country-house, and only his body in the shop with his 
 customers. 
 
 Whilst he is making money, his wife, or rather his lady, is 
 spending twice as much out of town as he makes in it. At the 
 word country-house, let no one figure to himself a snug little 
 box, like that in which a warm London citizen, after long years 
 of toil, indulges himself, one day out of seven, in repose — 
 enjoying from his gazabo the smell of the dust, and the view 
 of passing coaches on the London road. No : these Hibernian 
 villas are on a much more magnificent scale ; some of them 
 formerly belonged to Irish members of Parliament, who are at 
 a distance from their country-seats. After the Union these 
 were bought by citizens and tradesmen, who spoiled, by the 
 mixture of their own fancies, what had originally been designed 
 by men of good taste. 
 
 182
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Some time after Lord Colambre's arrival in Dublin, he had 
 an opportunity of seeing one of these villas, which belonged to 
 Mrs. Raffarty, a grocer's lady, and sister to one of Lord Clon- 
 brony's agents, Mr. Nicholas Garraghty. Lord Colambre was 
 surprised to find that his father's agent resided in Dublin : he 
 had been used to see agents, or stewards, as they are called in 
 England, live in the country, and usually on the estate of which 
 they have the management. Mr. Nicholas Garraghty, however, 
 had a handsome house in a fashionable part of Dublin. Lord 
 Colambre called several times to see him, but he was out of 
 town, receiving rents for some other gentlemen, as he was 
 agent for more than one property. 
 
 Though our hero had not the honour of seeing Mr. 
 Garraghty, he had the pleasure of finding Mrs. Raffarty one 
 clay at her brother's house. Just as his lordship came to the 
 door, she was going, on her jaunting-car, to her villa, called 
 Tusculum, situate near Bray. She spoke much of the beauties 
 of the vicinity of Dublin ; found his lordship was going with 
 Sir James Brooke and a party of gentlemen to see the county 
 of Wicklow ; and his lordship and party were entreated to do her 
 the honour of taking in his way a little collation at Tusculum. 
 
 Our hero was glad to have an opportunity of seeing more of 
 a species of fine lady with which he was unacquainted. 
 
 The invitation was verbally made, and verbally accepted ; 
 but the lady afterwards thought it necessary to send a written 
 invitation in due form, and the note she sent directed to the most 
 right honourable the Lord Viscount Colambre. On opening it 
 he perceived that it could not have been intended for him. It 
 ran as follows : 
 
 My dear Juliana O'Leary, 
 
 I have got a promise from Colambre, that he will be with us at 
 Tusculum on Friday the 20th, in his way from the county of Wicklow, 
 for the collation I mentioned ; and expect a large party of officers ; so 
 pray come early, with your house, or as many as the jaunting-car can 
 bring. And pray, my dear, be elegant. You need not let it transpire to 
 
 Mrs. O'G ; but make my apologies to Miss O'G , if she says 
 
 anything, and tell her I'm quite concerned I can't ask her for that day ; 
 because, tell her, I'm so crowded, and am to have none that day but 
 real quality. — Yours ever and ever, Anastasia Raffarty. 
 
 P.S. — And I hope to make the gentlemen stop the night with me ; 
 so will not have beds. Excuse haste, and compliments, etc. 
 
 Tusculum, Sunday 15. 
 
 183
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 After a charming tour in the county of Wicklow, where the 
 beauty of the natural scenery, and the taste with which those 
 natural beauties had been cultivated, far surpassed the sanguine 
 expectations Lord Colambre had formed, his lordship and his 
 companions arrived at Tusculum, where he found Mrs. Raffarty, 
 and Miss Juliana O'Leary, very elegant, with a large party of 
 the ladies and gentlemen of Bray, assembled in a drawing-room, 
 tine with bad pictures and gaudy gilding ; the windows were 
 all shut, and the company were playing cards with all their 
 might. This was the fashion of the neighbourhood. In com- 
 pliment to Lord Colambre and the officers, the ladies left the 
 card-tables ; and Mrs. Raffarty, observing that his lordship 
 seemed partial to walking, took him out, as she said, ' to do 
 the honours of nature and art.' 
 
 His lordship was much amused by the mixture, which was 
 now exhibited to him, of taste and incongruity, ingenuity and 
 absurdity, genius and blunder ; by the contrast between the 
 finery and vulgarity, the affectation and ignorance of the lady 
 of the villa. We should be obliged to stop too long at 
 Tusculum were we to attempt to detail all the odd circum- 
 stances of this visit ; but we may record an example or two 
 which may give a sufficient idea of the whole. 
 
 In the first place, before they left the drawing-room, Miss 
 Juliana O'Leary pointed out to his lordship's attention a picture 
 over the drawing-room chimney-piece. ' Is not it a fine piece, 
 my lord ? ' said she, naming the price Mrs. Raffarty had lately 
 paid for it at an auction. — ' It has a right to be a fine piece, 
 indeed ; for it cost a fine price !' Nevertheless this fine piece 
 was a vile daub ; and our hero could only avoid the sin of 
 flattery, or the danger of offending the lady, by protesting that 
 he had no judgment in pictures. 
 
 'Indeed, I don't pretend to be a connoisseur or conoscenti 
 myself; but I'm told the style is undeniably modern. And was 
 not I lucky, Juliana, not to let that Medona be knocked down 
 to me ? I was just going to bid, when I heard such smart 
 bidding ; but fortunately the auctioneer let out that it was 
 done by a very old master — a hundred years old. Oh ! your 
 most obedient, thinks I ! — if that's the case, it's not for my 
 money ; so I bought this, in lieu of the smoke-dried thing, and 
 had it a bargain.' 
 
 In architecture, Mrs. Raffarty had as good a taste and as 
 184
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 much skill as in painting. There had been a handsome 
 portico in front of the house ; but this interfering with the 
 lady's desire to have a veranda, which she said could not be 
 dispensed with, she had raised the whole portico to the second 
 story, where it stood, or seemed to stand, upon a tarpaulin 
 roof. But Mrs. Raffarty explained that the pillars, though 
 they looked so properly substantial, were really hollow and as 
 light as feathers, and were supported with cramps, without 
 disobliging the front wall of the house at all to signify. 
 
 ' Before she showed the company any farther,' she said, ' she 
 must premise to his lordship, that she had been originally 
 stinted in room for her improvements, so that she could not 
 follow her genius liberally ; she had been reduced to have 
 some things on a confined scale, and occasionally to consult 
 her pocket-compass ; but she prided herself upon having put 
 as much into a light pattern as could well be ; that had been 
 her whole ambition, study, and problem, for she was deter- 
 mined to have at least the honour of having a little taste of 
 everything at Tusculum.' 
 
 So she led the way to a little conservatory, and a little 
 pinery, and a little grapery, and a little aviary, and a little 
 pheasantry, and a little dairy for show, and a little cottage for 
 ditto, with a grotto full of shells, and a little hermitage full of 
 earwigs, and a little ruin full of looking-glass, ' to enlarge and 
 multiply the effect of the Gothic' ' But you could only put 
 your head in, because it was just fresh painted, and though 
 there had been a fire ordered in the ruin all night, it had only 
 smoked.' 
 
 In all Mrs. Raffarty's buildings, whether ancient or modem, 
 there was a studied crookedness. 
 
 ' Yes,' she said, ' she hated everything straight, it was so 
 formal and unpicturesque. Uniformity and conformity, she 
 observed, had their day ; but now, thank the stars of the 
 present day, irregularity and difformity bear the bell, and have 
 the majority.' 
 
 As they proceeded and walked through the grounds, from 
 which Mrs. Raffarty, though she had done her best, could not 
 take that which nature had given, she pointed out to my lord 
 ' a happy moving termination,' consisting of a Chinese bridge, 
 with a fisherman leaning over the rails. On a sudden, the 
 fisherman was seen to tumble over the bridge into the water. 
 
 185
 
 THE ABSENT I I. 
 
 The gentlemen ran to extricate the poor fellow, while they 
 heard Mrs. Raffarty bawling to his lordship to beg he would 
 never mind, and not trouble himself. 
 
 When they arrived at the bridge, they saw the man hanging 
 from part of the bridge, and apparently struggling in the water ; 
 but when they attempted to pull him up, they found it was 
 only a stuffed figure which had been pulled into the stream by 
 a real fish, which had seized hold of the bait. 
 
 Mrs. Raffarty, vexed by the fisherman's fall, and by the 
 laughter it occasioned, did not recover herself sufficiently to be 
 happily ridiculous during the remainder of the walk, nor till 
 dinner was announced, when she apologised for 'having 
 changed the collation, at first intended, into a dinner, which 
 she hoped would be found no bad substitute, and which she 
 flattered herself might prevail on my lord and the gentlemen 
 to sleep, as there was no moon.' 
 
 The dinner had two great faults — profusion and pretension. 
 There was, in fact, ten times more on the table than was 
 necessary ; and the entertainment was far above the circum- 
 stances of the person by whom it was given ; for instance, the 
 dish of fish at the head of the table had been brought across 
 the island from Sligo, and had cost five guineas ; as the lady 
 of the house failed not to make known. But, after all, things were 
 not of a piece ; there was a disparity between the entertainment 
 and the attendants ; there was no proportion or fitness of things 
 — a painful endeavour at what could not be attained, and a 
 toiling in vain to conceal and repair deficiencies and blunders. 
 Had the mistress of the house been quiet ; had she, as Mrs. 
 Broadhurst would say, but let things alone, let things take 
 their course, all would have passed off with well-bred people ; 
 but she was incessantly apologising, and fussing, and fretting 
 inwardly and outwardly, and directing and calling to her 
 servants — striving to make a butler who was deaf, a boy who 
 was hare-brained, do the business of five accomplished footmen 
 of parts and figure. The mistress of the house called for 
 ' plates, clean plates ! — hot plates ! ' 
 
 ' But none did come, when she did call for them.' 
 
 Mrs. Raffarty called ' Larry ! Larry ! My lord's plate, there ! 
 — James ! bread to Captain Bowles ! — James ! port wine to 
 the major ! — James ! James Kenny ! James ! ' 
 
 ' And panting James toiled after her in vain.' 
 186
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 At length one course was fairly got through, and after a 
 torturing half-hour, the second course appeared, and James 
 Kenny was intent upon one thing, and Larry upon another, so 
 that the wine-sauce for the hare was spilt by their collision ; 
 but, what was worse, there seemed little chance that the whole 
 of this second course should ever be placed altogether rightly 
 upon the table. Mrs. Raffarty cleared her throat, and nodded, 
 and pointed, and sighed, and set Larry after Kenny, and 
 Kenny after Larry ; for what one did, the other undid ; and at 
 last the lady's anger kindled, and she spoke : 
 
 ' Kenny ! James Kenny ! set the sea-cale at this corner, and 
 put down the grass cross-corners ; and match your macaroni 
 yonder with them puddens, set — Ogh ! James ! the pyramid in 
 the middle, can't ye ? ' 
 
 The pyramid, in changing places, was overturned. Then it 
 was that the mistress of the feast, falling back in her seat, and 
 lifting up her hands and eyes in despair, ejaculated, ' Oh, 
 James ! James I ' 
 
 The pyramid was raised by the assistance of the military 
 engineers, and stood trembling again on its base ; but the 
 lady's temper could not be so easily restored to its equilibrium. 
 
 The comedy of errors, which this day's visit exhibited, 
 amused all the spectators. But Lord Colambre, after he had 
 smiled, sometimes sighed. — Similar foibles and follies in 
 persons of different rank, fortune, and manner, appear to 
 common observers so unlike, that they laugh without scruples 
 of conscience in one case, at what in another ought to touch 
 themselves most nearly. It was the same desire to appear 
 what they were not, the same vain ambition to vie with 
 superior rank and fortune, or fashion, which actuated Lady 
 Clonbrony and Mrs. Raffarty ; and whilst this ridiculous 
 grocers wife made herself the sport of some of her guests, 
 Lord Colambre sighed, from the reflection that what she was 
 to them, his mother was to persons in a higher rank of fashion. 
 — He sighed still more deeply, when he considered, that, in 
 whatever station or with whatever fortune, extravagance, that 
 is the living beyond our income, must lead to distress and 
 meanness, and end in shame and ruin. In the morning, as 
 they were riding away from Tusculum and talking over their 
 visit, the officers laughed heartily, and rallying Lord Colambre 
 upon his seriousness, accused him of having fallen in love with 
 
 187
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Mrs. Raffarty, or with the elegant Miss Juliana. Our hero, 
 who wished never to be nice overmuch, or serious out of 
 season, laughed with those that laughed, and endeavoured to 
 catch the spirit of the jest. But Sir James Brooke, who now 
 was well acquainted with his countenance, and who knew 
 something" of the history of his family, understood his real 
 feelings, and, sympathising in them, endeavoured to give the 
 conversation a new turn. 
 
 1 Look there, Bowles,' said he, as they were just riding into 
 the town of Bray; 'look at the barouche, standing at that 
 green door, at the farthest end of the town. Is not that Lady 
 Dashfort's barouche ? ' 
 
 ' It looks like what she sported in Dublin last year,' said 
 Bowles ; ' but you don't think she'd give us the same two 
 seasons ? Besides, she is not in Ireland, is she ? I did not 
 hear of her intending to come over again.' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said another officer ; ' she will come 
 again to so good a market, to marry her other daughter. I 
 hear she said, or swore, that she will marry the young widow, 
 Lady Isabel, to an Irish nobleman.' 
 
 4 Whatever she says, she swears, and whatever she swears, 
 she'll do,' replied Bowles. ' Have a care, my Lord Colambre ; 
 if she sets her heart upon you for Lady Isabel, she has you. 
 Nothing can save you. Heart she has none, so there you're 
 safe, my lord,' said the other officer ; 'but if Lady Isabel sets 
 her eye upon you, no basilisk's is surer.' 
 
 ' But if Lady Dashfort had landed I am sure we should 
 have heard of it, for she makes noise enough wherever she 
 goes ; especially in Dublin, where all she said and did was 
 echoed and magnified, till one could hear of nothing else. 
 I don't think she has landed.' 
 
 ' I hope to Heaven they may never land again in Ireland !' 
 cried Sir James Brooke ; ' one worthless woman, especially 
 one worthless Englishwoman of rank, does incalculable 
 mischief in a country like this, which looks up to the sister 
 country for fashion. For my own part, as a warm friend to 
 Ireland, I would rather see all the toads and serpents, and 
 venomous reptiles, that St. Patrick carried off in his bag, come 
 back to this island, than these two dashers. Why, they would 
 bite half the women and girls in the kingdom with the rage 
 for mischief, before half the husbands and fathers could turn 
 
 188
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 their heads about. And, once bit, there's no cure in nature or 
 art.' 
 
 ' No horses to this barouche ! ' cried Captain Bowles. — 
 ' Pray, sir, whose carriage is this ? ' said the captain to a 
 servant who was standing beside it. 
 
 ' My Lady Dashfort, sir, it belongs to,' answered the 
 servant, in rather a surly English tone ; and turning to a boy 
 who was lounging at the door — ' Pat, bid them bring out the 
 horses, for my ladies is in a hurry to get home.' 
 
 Captain Bowles stopped to make his servant alter the girths 
 of his horse, and to satisfy his curiosity ; and the whole party 
 halted. Captain Bowles beckoned to the landlord of the inn, 
 who was standing at his door. 
 
 ' So, Lady Dashfort is here again ? — This is her barouche, 
 is not it ? ' 
 
 'Yes, sir, she is — it is.' 
 
 ' And has she sold her fine horses ? 
 
 ' Oh no, sir — this is not her carriage at all — she is not 
 here. That is, she is here, in Ireland ; but down in the 
 county of Wicklow, on a visit. And this is not her own 
 carriage at all ; — that is to say, not that which she has with 
 herself, driving ; but only just the cast barouche like, as she 
 keeps for the lady's maids.' 
 
 ' For the lady's maids ! that is good ! that is new, faith ! — 
 Sir James, do you hear that ?' 
 
 ' Indeed, then, and it's true, and not a word of a lie ! ' said 
 the honest landlord. ' And this minute, we've got a directory 
 of five of them abigails, sitting within in our house ; as fine 
 ladies, as great dashers, too, every bit as their principals ; and 
 kicking up as much dust on the road, every grain ! — Think of 
 them, now ! The likes of them, that must have four horses, 
 and would not stir a foot with one less ! — As the gentleman's 
 gentleman there was telling and boasting to me about now, 
 when the barouche was ordered for them, there at the lady's 
 house, where Lady Dashfort is on a visit — they said they 
 would not get in till they'd get four horses ; and their ladies 
 backed them ; and so the four horses was got ; and they just 
 drove out here, to see the points of view for fashion's sake, like 
 their betters ; and up with their glasses, like their ladies ; and 
 then out with their watches, and " Isn't it time to lunch ?" So 
 there they have been lunching within on what they brought 
 
 180
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 with them ; for nothing in our house could they touch, of 
 course ! They brought themselves a picknick lunch, with 
 Madeira and Champ.igne to wash it down. Why, gentlemen, 
 what do you think, but a set of them, as they were braj 
 to me, turned out of a boarding-house at Cheltenham, last 
 year, because they had not peach-pies to their lunch! — But 
 here they come ! shawls, and veils, and all ! — streamers fl\ 
 But mum is my cue t— Captain, are these girths to your fancy 
 now ? ' said the landlord, aloud ; then, as he stooped to alter a 
 buckle, he said, in a voice meant to be heard only by Captain 
 Bowles, 'If there's a tongue, male or female, in the three 
 kingdoms, it's in that foremost woman, Mrs. Petito.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Petito ! ' repeated Lord Colambrc, as the name caught 
 his car ; and, approaching the barouche in which the five 
 abigails were now seated, he saw the identical Mrs. Petito, 
 who, when he left London, had been in his mother's service. 
 
 She recognised his lordship with very gracious intimacy ; 
 and, before he had time to ask any questions, she answered all 
 she conceived he was going to ask, anil with a volubility which 
 justified the landlord's eulogium of her tongue. 
 
 ' Yes, my lord ! I left my Lady Clonbrony some time back 
 — the day after you left town ; and both her ladyship and 
 Miss Nugent was charmingly, and would have sent their loves 
 to your lordship, I'm sure, if they'd any notion I should have 
 met you, my lord, so soon. And I was very sorry to part with 
 them; but the fact was, my lord,' said Mrs. Petito, laying a 
 detaining hand upon Lord Colambre's whip, one end of which 
 he unwittingly trusted within her reach, — ' I and my lady had 
 a little difference, which the best friends, you know, sometimes 
 have ; so my Lady Clonbrony was so condescending to give 
 me up to my Lady Dashfort — and I knew no more than the 
 child unborn that her ladyship had it in contemplation to cross 
 the seas. But, to oblige my lady, and as Colonel Heathcock, 
 with his regiment of militia, was coming for purtection in the 
 packet at the same time, and we to have the government-yacht, 
 I waived my objections to Ireland. And, indeed, though I was 
 greatly frighted at first, having heard all we've heard, you 
 know, my lord, from Lady Clonbrony, of there being no living 
 in Ireland, and expecting to see no trees nor accommodation, 
 nor anything but bogs all along ; yet I declare, I was very 
 agreeably surprised ; for, as far as I've seen at Dublin and in 
 
 190
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the vicinity, the accommodations, and everything of that 
 nature, now is vastly put-up-able with ! ' — ' My lord,' said Sir 
 James Brooke, ' we shall be late.' Lord Colambre, shortly 
 withdrawing his whip from Mrs. Petito, turned his horse away. 
 She, stretching over the back of the barouche as he rode off, 
 bawled to him — 
 
 1 My lord, we're at Stephen's Green, when we're at Dublin.' 
 But as he did not choose to hear, she raised her voice to its 
 highest pitch, adding — 
 
 ' And where are you, my lord, to be found ? — as I have a 
 parcel of Miss Nugent's for you.' 
 
 Lord Colambre instantly turned back, and gave his direction. 
 
 ' Cleverly done, faith ! ' said the major. ' I did not hear 
 her say when Lady Dashfort is to be in town,' said Captain 
 Bowles. 
 
 ' What, Bowles ! have you a mind to lose more of your 
 guineas to Lady Dashfort, and to be jockied out of another 
 horse by Lady Isabel ? ' 
 
 ' Oh ! confound it — no ! I'll keep out of the way of that — 
 I have had enough,' said Captain Bowles ; 'it is my Lord 
 Colambre 's turn now ; you hear that Lady Dashfort would be 
 very proud to see him. His lordship is in for it, and with such 
 an auxiliary as Mrs. Petito, Lady Dashfort has him for Lady 
 Isabel, as sure as he has a heart or hand.' 
 
 ' My compliments to the ladies, but my heart is engaged,' 
 said Lord Colambre ; ' and my hand shall go with my heart, or 
 not at all.' 
 
 ' Engaged ! engaged to a very amiable, charming woman, 
 no doubt,' said Sir James Brooke. ' I have an excellent opinion 
 of your taste ; and if you can return the compliment to my 
 judgment, take my advice : don't trust to your heart's being 
 engaged, much less plead that engagement ; for it would be 
 Lady Dashfort's sport, and Lady Isabel's joy, to make you 
 break your engagement, and break your mistress's heart ; the 
 fairer, the more amiable, the more beloved, the greater the 
 triumph, the greater the delight in giving pain. All the time 
 love would be out of the question ; neither mother nor daughter 
 would care if you were hanged, or, as Lady Dashfort would 
 herself have expressed it, if you were d — d.' 
 
 ' With such women, I should think a man's heart could be 
 in no great danger,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 191
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' There you might be mistaken, my lord ; there's a way to 
 every man's heart, which no man in his own case is aware of, 
 but which every woman knows right well, and none better than 
 these ladies — by his vanity.' 
 
 ' True,' said Captain Bowles. 
 
 ' I am not so vain as to think myself without vanity,' said 
 Lord Colambre ; 'but love, I should imagine, is a stronger 
 passion than vanity.' 
 
 ' You should imagine ! Stay till you are tried, my lord. 
 Excuse me,' said Captain Bowles, laughing. 
 
 Lord Colambre felt the good sense of this, and determined 
 to have nothing to do with these dangerous ladies ; indeed, 
 though he had talked, he had scarcely yet thought of them ; 
 for his imagination was intent upon that packet from Miss 
 Nugent, which Mrs. Petito said she had for him. He heard 
 nothing of it, or of her, for some days. He sent his servant 
 every day to Stephen's Green to inquire if Lady Dashfort had 
 returned to town. Her ladyship at last returned ; but Mrs. 
 Petito could not deliver the parcel to any hand but Lord 
 Colambre's own, and she would not stir out, because her lady 
 was indisposed. No longer able to restrain his impatience, 
 Lord Colambre went himself — knocked at Lady Dashfort's 
 door — inquired for Mrs. Petito — was shown into her parlour. 
 The parcel was delivered to him ; but to his utter disappoint- 
 ment, it was a parcel for, not from Miss Nugent. It contained 
 merely an odd volume of some book of Miss Nugent's which 
 Mrs. Petito said she had put up along with her things in a 
 mistake, and she thought it her duty to return it by the first 
 opportunity of a safe conveyance. 
 
 Whilst Lord Colambre, to comfort himself for his disappoint- 
 ment, was fixing his eyes upon Miss Nugent's name, written 
 by her own hand, in the first leaf of the book, the door opened, 
 and the figure of an interesting -looking woman, in deep 
 mourning, appeared — appeared for one moment, and retired. 
 
 ' Only my Lord Colambre, about a parcel I was bringing 
 for him from England, my lady — my Lady Isabel, my lord,' 
 said Mrs. Petito. Whilst Mrs. Petito was saying this, the 
 entrance and retreat had been made, and made with such 
 dignity, grace, and modesty ; with such innocence, dove-like 
 eyes had been raised upon him, fixed and withdrawn ; with 
 such a gracious bend the Lady Isabel had bowed to him as 
 
 192
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 she retired ; with such a smile, and with so soft a voice, had 
 repeated ' Lord Colambre ! ' that his lordship, though well 
 aware that all this was mere acting, could not help saying to 
 himself as he left the house : 
 
 'Ihe figure of an interesting-looking woman, 
 in deep mourning, appeared.' 
 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan &■ Co. 
 
 1 It is a pity it is only acting. There is certainly something 
 very engaging in this woman. It is a pity she is an actress. 
 And so young ! A much younger woman than I expected. 
 A widow before most women are wives. So young, surely she 
 cannot be such a fiend as they described her to be ! ' A few 
 
 193 O
 
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 nights afterwards Lord Colambre was with some of his 
 acquaintance at the theatre, when Lady Isabel and her mother 
 came into the box, where seats had been reserved for them, 
 and where their appearance instantly made that sensation which 
 is usually created by the entrance of persons of the first 
 notoriety in the fashionable world. Lord Colambre was not 
 a man to be dazzled by fashion, or to mistake notoriety for 
 deference paid to merit, and for the admiration commanded 
 by beauty or talents. Lady Dashfort's coarse person, loud 
 voice, daring manners, and indelicate wit, disgusted him almost 
 past endurance. He saw Sir James Brooke in the box opposite 
 to him ; and twice determined to go round to him. His lord- 
 ship had crossed the benches, and once his hand was upon the 
 lock of the door ; but attracted as much by the daughter as 
 repelled by the mother, he could move no farther. The 
 mother's masculine boldness heightened, by contrast, the 
 charms of the daughter's soft sentimentality. The Lady Isabel 
 seemed to shrink from the indelicacy of her mother's manners, 
 and seemed peculiarly distressed by the strange efforts Lady 
 Dashfort made, from time to time, to drag her forward, and 
 to fix upon her the attention of gentlemen. Colonel Heath- 
 cock, who, as Mrs. Petito had informed Lord Colambre, had 
 come over with his regiment to Ireland, was beckoned into 
 their box by Lady Dashfort, by her squeezed into a seat next 
 to Lady Isabel ; but Lady Isabel seemed to feel sovereign 
 contempt, properly repressed by politeness, for what, in a low 
 whisper to a female friend on the other side of her, she called, 
 ' the self-sufficient inanity of this sad coxcomb.' Other cox- 
 combs, of a more vivacious style, who stationed themselves 
 round her mother, or to whom her mother stretched from box 
 to box to talk, seemed to engage no more of Lady Isabel's 
 attention than just what she was compelled to give by Lady 
 Dashfort's repeated calls of — 
 
 « Isabel ! Isabel ! Colonel G Isabel ! Lord D 
 
 bowing to you. Belle! Belle! Sir Harry B Isabel, child, 
 
 with your eyes on the stage ? Did you never see a play before ? 
 
 Novice ! Major P waiting to catch your eye this quarter 
 
 of an hour ; and now her eyes gone down to her play-bill ! Sir 
 Harry, do take it from her. 
 
 ' Were eyes so radiant only made to read ?' 
 194
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Lady Isabel appeared to suffer so exquisitely and so natur- 
 ally from this persecution, that Lord Colambre said to himself — 
 
 1 If this be acting, it is the best acting I ever saw. If this 
 be art, it deserves to be nature.' 
 
 And with this sentiment he did himself the honour of hand- 
 ing Lady Isabel to her carriage this night, and with this senti- 
 ment he awoke next morning ; and by the time he had dressed 
 and breakfasted he determined that it was impossible all that 
 he had seen could be acting. ' No woman, no young woman, 
 could have such art. Sir James Brooke had been unwarrant- 
 ably severe ; he would go and tell him so.' 
 
 But Sir James Brooke this day received orders for his 
 regiment to march to quarters in a distant part of Ireland. 
 His head was full of arms, and ammunition, and knapsacks, and 
 billets, and routes ; and there was no possibility, even in the 
 present chivalrous disposition of our hero, to enter upon the 
 defence of the Lady Isabel. Indeed, in the regret he felt for 
 the approaching and unexpected departure of his friend, Lord 
 Colambre forgot the fair lady. But just when Sir James had 
 his foot in the stirrup, he stopped. 
 
 ' By the bye, my dear lord, I saw you at the play last night. 
 You seemed to be much interested. Don't think me imper- 
 tinent, if I remind you of our conversation when we were riding 
 home from Tusculum ; and if I warn you,' said he, mounting 
 his horse, ' to beware of counterfeits— for such are abroad.' 
 Reining in his impatient steed, Sir James turned again and 
 added, ' Deeds not words, is my motto. Remember, we can 
 judge better by the conduct of people towards others than by 
 their manner towards ourselves.' 
 
 T 95
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 OUR hero was quite convinced of the good sense of his friend's 
 last remark, that it is safer to judge of people by their conduct 
 to others than by their manners towards ourselves ; but as 
 yet, he felt scarcely any interest on the subject of Lady Dash- 
 fort or Lady Isabel's characters ; however, he inquired and 
 listened to all the evidence he could obtain respecting this 
 mother and daughter. 
 
 He heard terrible reports of the mischief they had done in 
 families ; the extravagance into which they had led men ; the 
 imprudence, to say no worse, into which they had betrayed 
 women. Matches broken off, reputations ruined, husbands 
 alienated from their wives, and wives made jealous of their 
 husbands. But in some of these stories he discovered ex- 
 aggeration so flagrant as to make him doubt the whole ; in 
 others, it could not be positively determined whether the 
 mother or daughter had been the person most to blame. 
 
 Lord Colambre always followed the charitable rule of believ- 
 ing only half what the world says, and here he thought it fair 
 to believe which half he pleased. He further observed, that, 
 though all joined in abusing these ladies in their absence, when 
 present they seemed universally admired. Though everybody 
 cried ' shame ! ' and ' shocking ! ' yet everybody visited them. 
 No parties so crowded as Lady Dashfort's ; no party deemed 
 pleasant or fashionable where Lady Dashfort or Lady Isabel 
 was not. The bo7i-mots of the mother were everywhere re- 
 peated ; the dress and air of the daughter everywhere imitated. 
 Yet Lord Colambre could not help being surprised at their 
 popularity in Dublin, because, independently of all moral ob- 
 jections, there were causes of a different sort, sufficient, he 
 thought, to prevent Lady Dashfort from being liked by the 
 
 196
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Irish ; indeed by any society. She in general affected to be 
 ill-bred, and inattentive to the feelings and opinions of others ; 
 careless whom she offended by her wit or by her decided tone. 
 There are some persons in so high a region of fashion, that 
 they imagine themselves above the thunder of vulgar censure. 
 Lady Dashfort felt herself in this exalted situation, and fancied 
 she might ' hear the innocuous thunder roll below.' Her rank 
 was so high that none could dare to call her vulgar ; what 
 would have been gross in any one of meaner note, in her was 
 freedom, or originality, or Lady Dashfort' s way. It was Lady 
 Dashfort's pleasure and pride to show her power in perverting 
 the public taste. She often said to those English companions 
 with whom she was intimate, ' Now see what follies I can lead 
 these fools into. Hear the nonsense I can make them repeat 
 as wit.' Upon some occasion, one of her friends ventured to 
 fear that something she had said was too stro?ig. ' Too strong, 
 was it ? Well, I like to be strong— woe be to the weak.' On 
 another occasion she was told that certain visitors had seen 
 her ladyship yawning. ' Yawn, did I ?— glad of it — the yawn 
 sent them away, or I should have snored ; — rude, was I ? they 
 won't complain. To say I was rude to them would be to 
 say, that I did not think it worth my while to be otherwise. 
 Barbarians ! are not we the civilised English, come to teach 
 them manners and fashions ? Whoever does not conform, and 
 swear allegiance too, we shall keep out of the English pale.' 
 
 Lady Dashfort forced her way, and she set the fashion : 
 fashion, which converts the ugliest dress into what is beautiful 
 and charming, governs the public mode in morals and in 
 manners ; and thus, when great talents and high rank com- 
 bine, they can debase or elevate the public taste. 
 
 With Lord Colambre she played more artfully ; she drew 
 him out in defence of his beloved country, and gave him 
 opportunities of appearing to advantage ; this he could not 
 help feeling, especially when the Lady Isabel was present. 
 Lady Dashfort had dealt long enough with human nature to 
 know, that to make any man pleased with her, she should 
 begin by making him pleased with himself. 
 
 Insensibly the antipathy that Lord Colambre had originally 
 felt to Lady Dashfort wore off; her faults, he began to think, 
 were assumed ; he pardoned her defiance of good breeding, 
 when he observed that she could, when she chose it, be most 
 
 197
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 engagingly polite. It was not that she did not know what 
 was right, but that she did not think it always for her inl 
 to practise it. 
 
 The party opposed to Lady Dashfort affirmed that her wit 
 depended merely on unexpectedness ; a characteristic which 
 may be applied to any impropriety of speech, manner, or con- 
 duct. In some of her ladyship's repartees, however, Lord 
 Colambre now acknowledged there was more than unexpected- 
 ness ; there was real wit ; but it was of a sort utterly unfit for 
 a woman, and he was sorry that Lady Isabel should heir it. 
 In short, exceptionable as it was altogether, Lady Dashfort's 
 conversation had become entertaining to him ; and though he 
 could never esteem or feci in the least interested about her, he 
 began to allow that she could be agreeable. 
 
 'Ay, I knew how it would be,' said she, when some of her 
 friends told her this. ' He began by detesting me, and did 
 I not tell you that, if I thought it worth my while to maki 
 like me, he must, sooner or later. I delight in seeing people 
 begin with me as they do with olives, making all manner of 
 horrid faces and silly protestations that they will never touch an 
 olive again as long as they live ; but, after a little time, these 
 very folk grow so desperately fond of olives, that there is no 
 dessert without them. Isabel, child, you are in the sweet line 
 — but sweets cloy. You never heard of anybody living on 
 marmalade, did ye?' — Lady Isabel answered by a sweet 
 smile. — ' To do you justice, you play Lydia Languish vastly 
 well,' pursued the mother; 'but Lydia, by herself, would soon 
 tire ; somebody must keep up the spirit and bustle, and carry 
 on the plot of the piece ; and I am that somebody — as you 
 shall see. Is not that our hero's voice, which I hear on the 
 stairs ? ' 
 
 It was Lord Colambre. His lordship had by this time 
 become a constant visitor at Lady Dashfort's. Not that he 
 had forgotten, or that he meant to disregard his friend Sir 
 James Brooke's parting words. He promised himself faith- 
 fully, that if anything should occur to give him reason to 
 suspect designs, such as those to which the warning pointed, 
 he would be on his guard, and would prove his generalship by 
 an able retreat. But to imagine attacks where none were 
 attempted, to suspect ambuscades in the open country, would 
 be ridiculous and cowardly. 
 
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 ' No,' thought our hero ; ' Heaven forfend I should be such 
 a coxcomb as to fancy every woman who speaks to me has 
 designs upon my precious heart, or on my more precious 
 estate ! ' As he walked from his hotel to Lady Dashfort's house, 
 ingeniously wrong, he came to this conclusion, just as he 
 ascended the stairs, and just as her ladyship had settled her 
 future plan of operations. 
 
 After talking over the nothings of the day, and after having 
 given two or three cuts at the society of Dublin, with two or 
 three compliments to individuals, who, she knew, were favourites 
 with his lordship, she suddenly turned to him — 
 
 ' My lord, I think you told me, or my own sagacity dis- 
 covered, that you want to see something of Ireland, and that 
 you don't intend, like most travellers, to turn round, see nothing, 
 and go home content.' 
 
 Lord Colambre assured her ladyship that she had judged 
 him rightly, for, that nothing would content him but seeing all 
 that was possible to be seen of his native country. It was for 
 this special purpose he came to Ireland. 
 
 ' Ah ! — well — very good purpose — can't be better ; but now, 
 how to accomplish it. You know the Portuguese proverb says, 
 " You go to hell for the good things you intend to do, and to 
 heaven for those you do." Now let us see what you will do. 
 Dublin, I suppose, you've seen enough of by this time ; 
 through and through — round and round — this makes me first 
 giddy and then sick. Let me show you the country — not the 
 face of it, but the body of it — the people. Not Castle this, or 
 Newtown that, but their inhabitants. I know them ; I have 
 the key, or the picklock to their minds. An Irishman is as 
 different an animal on his guard, and off his guard, as a miss 
 in school from a miss out of school. A fine country for 
 game, I'll show you ; and, if you are a good marksman, you 
 may have plenty of shots " at folly as it flies." ' 
 
 Lord Colambre smiled. 'As to Isabel,' pursued her lady- 
 ship, ' I shall put her in charge of Heathcock, who is going 
 with us. She won't thank me for that, but you will. Nay, no 
 fibs, man ; you know, I know, as who does not that has seen 
 the world, that though a pretty woman is a mighty pretty thing, 
 yet she is confoundedly in one's way, when anything else is 
 to be seen, heard — or understood.' 
 
 Every objection anticipated and removed, and so far a pro- 
 199
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 spect held out of attaining all the information lie desired, with 
 more than all the amusement he could have expected, Lord 
 Colambre seemed much tempted to accept the invitation ; but 
 he hesitated, because, as he said, her ladyship might be going 
 to pay visits where he was not acquainted. 
 
 ' Bless you ! don't let that be a stumbling-block in the way 
 of your tender conscience. I am going to Killpatrickstown, 
 where you'll be as welcome as light. You know them, they 
 know you ; at least you shall have a proper letter of imitation 
 from my Lord and my Lady Killpatrick, and all that. And as 
 to the rest, you know a young man is always welcome every- 
 where, a young nobleman kindly welcome, — I won't say such 
 a young man, and such a young nobleman, for that might put 
 you to your bows or your blushes — but nobilitas by itself, 
 nobility is enough in all parties, in all families, where there are 
 girls, and of course balls, as there arc always at Killpatricks- 
 town. Don't be alarmed ; you shall not be forced to dance, 
 or asked to marry. I'll be your security. You shall be at 
 full liberty ; and it is a house where you can do just what you 
 will. Indeed, I go to no others. These Killpatricks are the 
 best creatures in the world ; they think nothing good or grand 
 enough for me. If I'd let them, they would lay down cloth of 
 gold over their bogs for me to walk upon. — Good-hearted 
 beings!' added Lady Dashfort, marking a cloud gathering on 
 Lord Colambre's countenance. ' I laugh at them, because I love 
 them. I could not love anything I might not laugh at — your 
 lordship excepted. So you'll come — that's settled.' 
 
 And so it was settled. Our hero went to Killpatrickstown. 
 
 4 Everything here sumptuous and unfinished, you see,' said 
 Lady Dashfort to Lord Colambre, the day after their arrival. 
 ' All begun as if the projectors thought they had the command 
 of the mines of Peru, and ended as if the possessors had not 
 sixpence ; des arrangemens prffvisatoires^ temporary expedients ; 
 in plain English, make-shifts. Luxuries, enough for an English 
 prince of the blood ; comforts, not enough for an English 
 woman. And you may be sure that great repairs and altera- 
 tions have gone on to fit this house for our reception, and for 
 our English eyes ! — Poor people ! — English visitors, in this 
 point of view, are horribly expensive to the Irish. Did you 
 ever hear that, in the last century, or in the century before the 
 last, to put my story far enough back, so that it shall not touch 
 
 200
 
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 anybody living ; when a certain English nobleman, Lord Blank 
 
 A , sent to let his Irish friend, Lord Blank B , know 
 
 that he and all his train were coming over to pay him a visit ; 
 
 the Irish nobleman, Blank B , knowing the deplorable 
 
 condition of his castle, sat down fairly to calculate whether it 
 would cost him most to put the building in good and sufficient 
 repair, fit to receive these English visitors, or to burn it to the 
 ground. He found the balance to be in favour of burning, 
 which was wisely accomplished next day. 1 Perhaps Killpatrick 
 would have clone well to follow this example. Resolve me 
 which is worst, to be burnt out of house and home, or to be 
 eaten out of house and home. In this house, above and below 
 stairs, including first and second table, housekeeper's room, 
 lady's maids' room, butler's room, and gentleman's, one 
 hundred and four people sit down to dinner every day, as 
 Pctito informs me, beside kitchen boys, and what they call 
 c/iar- women— who never sit down, but who do not eat or waste 
 the less for that ; and retainers and friends, friends to the 
 fifth and sixth generation, who " must get their bit and their 
 sup;" for, "sure, it's only Biddy," they say,' continued Lady 
 Dashfort, imitating their Irish brogue. 'And, "sure, 'tis 
 nothing at all, out of all his honour, my lord, has. How could 
 he feel it ! 2 — Long life to him ! — He's not that way : not a 
 couple in all Ireland, and that's saying a great dale, looks less 
 after their own, nor is more off-handeder, or open-hearteder, 
 or greater open-house-keepers, nor s my Lord and my Lady 
 Killpatrick." Now there's encouragement for a lord and a 
 lady to ruin themselves.' 
 
 Lady Dashfort imitated the Irish brogue in perfection ; 
 boasted that ' she was mistress of fourteen different brogues, 
 and had brogues for all occasions.' By her mixture of 
 mimickry, sarcasm, exaggeration, and truth, she succeeded 
 continually in making Lord Colambre laugh at everything at 
 which she wished to make him laugh ; at every thing, but not 
 every body j whenever she became personal, he became serious, 
 or at least endeavoured to become serious ; and if he could 
 not instantly resume the command of his risible muscles, he 
 reproached himself. 
 
 'It is shameful to laugh at these people, indeed, Lady 
 
 1 Fact I " Feel'xX: become sensible of it, know it. 8 Nor: than. 
 
 201
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Dashfort, in their own house — these hospitable people, who are 
 entertaining us.' 
 
 'Entertaining us! true, and if we are entertained, how can 
 we help laughing ? ' 
 
 All expostulation was thus turned off by a jest, as it was 
 her pride to make Lord Colambre laugh in spite of his better 
 feelings and principles. This he saw, and this seemed to him 
 to be her sole object ; but there he was mistaken. Off-handed 
 as she pretended to be, none dealt more in the impromptu fait 
 a loisir ; and mentally short-sighted as she affected to be, 
 none had more longanimity for their own interest. 
 
 It was her settled purpose to make the Irish and Ireland 
 ridiculous and contemptible to Lord Colambre ; to disgust him 
 with his native country ; to make him abandon the wish of 
 residing on his own estate. To confirm him an absentee was 
 her object previously to her ultimate plan of marrying him to 
 her daughter. Her daughter was poor, she would therefore 
 be glad to get an Irish peer for her; but would be very sorry, 
 she said, to see Isabel banished to Ireland ; and the young 
 widow declared she could never bring herself to be buried alive 
 in Clonbrony Castle. 
 
 In addition to these considerations, Lady Dashfort received 
 certain hints from Mrs. Petito, which worked all to the same 
 point. 
 
 'Why, yes, my lady; I heard a great deal about all that 
 when I was at Lady Clonbrony's,' said Petito, one day, as she 
 was attending at her lady's toilette, and encouraged to begin 
 chattering. ' And I own I was originally under the universal 
 error, that my Lord Colambre was to be married to the great 
 heiress, Miss Broadhurst ; but I have been converted and 
 reformed on that score, and am at present quite in another 
 way and style of thinking.' 
 
 Petito paused, in hopes that her lady would ask, what was 
 her present way of thinking ? But Lady Dashfort, certain that 
 she would tell her without being asked, did not take the trouble 
 to speak, particularly as she did not choose to appear violently 
 interested on the subject. — ' My present way of thinking,' 
 resumed Petito, ' is in consequence of my having, with my own 
 eyes and ears, witnessed and overheard his lordship's behaviour 
 and words, the morning he was coming away from Lunnun for 
 Ireland ; when he was morally certain nobody was up, nor 
 
 202
 
 • Ejaculating over one of Miss Nugent s gloves t which c\'^' X . ]Jh ^ 
 
 he had picked tip.' J ' 
 
 id picked tip. 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan Sr Co.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 overhearing, nor overseeing him, there did I notice him, my 
 lady, stopping in the antechamber, ejaculating over one of 
 Miss Nugent's gloves, which he had picked up. " Limerick I "' 
 said he, quite loud to himself; for it was a Limerick glove, my 
 lady, — " Limerick ! — dear Ireland ! she loves you as well as I 
 do ! "■ — or words to that effect ; and then a sigh, and downstairs 
 and off. So, thinks I, now the cat's out of the bag. And I 
 wouldn't give much myself for Miss ljtoadhurst's chance of 
 that young lord, with all her bank stock, scrip, and annum. 
 Now, I sec how the land lies, and I'm sorry for it ; for she's 
 no fortin; and she's so proud, she never said a hint to me of 
 the matter ; but my Lord Colambre is a sweet gentleman ; 
 and ' 
 
 ' Petito ! don't run on so ; you must not meddle with what 
 you don't understand: the Miss Killpatricks, to be sure, are 
 sweet girls, particularly the youngest.' — Her ladyship's toilette 
 was finished ; and she left Petito to go down to my Lady 
 Killpatrick's woman, to tell, as a very great secret, the schemes 
 that were in contemplation among the higher powers, in favour 
 of the youngest of the .Miss Killpatricks. 
 
 'So Ireland is at the bottom of his heart, is it?' repeated 
 Lady Dashfort to herself; ' it shall not be long so.' From this 
 time forward, not a day, scarcely an hour passed, but her 
 ladyship did or said something to depreciate the country, or 
 its inhabitants, in our hero's estimation. With treacherous 
 ability, she knew and followed all the arts of misrepresentation ; 
 all those injurious arts which his friend, Sir James Brooke, 
 had, with such honest indignation, reprobated. She knew 
 how, not only to seize the ridiculous points, to make the most 
 respectable people ridiculous, but she knew how to select the 
 worst instances, the worst exceptions ; and to produce them as 
 examples, as precedents, from which to condemn whole classes, 
 and establish general false conclusions respecting a nation. 
 
 In the neighbourhood of Killpatrickstown, Lady Dashfort 
 said, there were several squireens, or little squires ; a race 
 of men who have succeeded to the buckeens, described by 
 Young and Crumpe. Squireens are persons who, with good 
 long leases, or valuable farms, possess incomes from three 
 to eight hundred a year ; who keep a pack of hounds ; lake 
 out a commission of the peace, sometimes before they can 
 spell (as her ladyship said), and almost always before they know 
 
 204
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 anything of law or justice ! Busy and loud about small 
 matters ; jobbers at assizes; combining with one another, 
 and trying upon every occasion, public or private, to push 
 themselves forward, to the annoyance of their superiors, and 
 the terror of those below them. 
 
 In the usual course of things, these men are not often 
 to be found in the society of gentry ; except, perhaps, among 
 those gentlemen or noblemen who like to see hangers-on 
 at their tables ; or who find it for their convenience to 
 have underling magistrates, to protect their favourites, or 
 to propose and carry jobs for them on grand juries. At 
 election times, however, these persons rise into sudden 
 importance with all who have views upon the county. Lady 
 Dashfort hinted to Lord Killpatrick, that her private letters 
 from England spoke of an approaching dissolution of 
 Parliament ; she knew that, upon this hint, a round of in- 
 vitations would be sent to the squireens ; and she was 
 morally certain that they would be more disagreeable to Lord 
 Colambre, and give him a worse idea of the country, than 
 any other people who could be produced. Day after day 
 some of these personages made their appearance ; and Lady 
 Dashfort took care to draw them out upon the subjects on 
 which she knew that they would show the most self-sufficient 
 ignorance, and the most illiberal spirit. This succeeded 
 beyond her most sanguine expectations. ' Lord Colambre ! 
 how I pity you, for being compelled to these permanent 
 sittings after dinner!' said Lady Isabel to him one night, 
 when he came late to the ladies from the dining-room. 
 ' Lord Killpatrick insisted upon my staying to help him to 
 push about that never-ending, still -beginning electioneering 
 bottle,' said Lord Colambre. ' Oh ! if that were all ; if 
 these gentlemen would only drink ; — but their conversation ! 
 I don't wonder my mother dreads returning to Clonbrony 
 Castle, if my father must have such company as this. But, 
 surely, it cannot be necessary.' 
 
 ' Oh, indispensable ! positively indispensable ! ' cried Lady 
 Dashfort; 'no living in Ireland without it. You know, 
 in every country in the world, you must live with the 
 people of the country, or be torn to pieces ; for my part, I 
 should prefer being torn to pieces.' 
 
 Lady Dashfort and Lady Isabel knew how to take 
 205
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 advantage of the contrast between their own conversation, 
 and that of the persons by whom Lord Colambre was so 
 justly disgusted ; they happily relieved his fatigue with wit, 
 satire, poetry, and sentiment ; so that he every day became 
 more exclusively fond of their company ; for Lady Kill- 
 patrick and the Miss Killpatricks were mere commonplace 
 people. In the mornings, he rode or walked with Lady 
 Dashfort and Lady Isabel : Lady Dashfort, by way of 
 fulfilling her promise of showing him the people, used fre- 
 quently to take him into the cabins, and talk to their in- 
 habitants. Lord and Lady Killpatrick, who had lived always 
 for the fashionable world, had taken little pains to improve 
 the condition of their tenants ; the few attempts they had 
 made were injudicious. They had built ornamented, picturesque 
 cottages, within view of their demesne ; and favourite followers 
 of the family, people with half a century's habit of indolence 
 and dirt, were promoted to these fine dwellings. The con- 
 sequences were such as Lady Dashfort delighted to point 
 out ; everything let to go to ruin for the want of a moment's 
 care, or pulled to pieces for the sake of the most trifling 
 surreptitious profit ; the people most assisted always appearing 
 proportionally wretched and discontented. No one could, 
 with more ease and more knowledge of her ground, than 
 Lady Dashfort, do the dishonour of a country. In every 
 cabin that she entered, by the first glance of her eye at 
 the head, kerchiefed in no comely guise, or by the drawn- 
 down corners of the mouth, or by the bit of a broken pipe, 
 which in Ireland never characterises stout labour, or by the 
 first sound of the voice, the drawling accent on ' your honour,' 
 or, 'my lady,' she could distinguish the proper objects of 
 her charitable designs, that is to say, those of the old 
 uneducated race, whom no one can help, because they will 
 never help themselves. To these she constantly addressed 
 herself, making them give, in all their despairing tones, a 
 history of their complaints and grievances ; then asking them 
 questions, aptly contrived to expose their habits of self- 
 contradiction, their servility and flattery one moment, and 
 their litigious and encroaching spirit the next : thus giving 
 Lord Colambre the most unfavourable idea of the disposition 
 and character of the lower class of the Irish people. 
 
 Lady Isabel the while standing by, with the most amiable 
 206
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 air of pity, with expressions of the finest moral sensibility, 
 softening all her mother said, finding ever some excuse for 
 the poor creatures, and following with angelic sweetness to 
 heal the wounds her mother inflicted. 
 
 When Lady Dashfort thought she had sufficiently worked 
 upon Lord Colambre's mind to weaken his enthusiasm for 
 his native country, and when Lady Isabel had, by the 
 appearance of every virtue, added to a delicate preference, 
 if not partiality, for our hero, ingratiated herself into his 
 good opinion and obtained an interest in his mind, the 
 wily mother ventured an attack of a more decisive nature ; 
 and so contrived it was, that, if it failed, it should appear 
 to have been made without design to injure, and in total 
 ignorance. 
 
 One day, Lady Dashfort, who in fact was not proud of her 
 family, though she pretended to be so, had herself been 
 prevailed on, though with much difficulty, by Lady Killpatrick, 
 to do the very thing she wanted to do, to show her genealogy, 
 which had been beautifully blazoned, and which was to be 
 produced as evidence in the lawsuit that brought her to 
 Ireland. Lord Colambre stood politely looking on and 
 listening, while her ladyship explained the splendid inter- 
 marriages of her family, pointing to each medallion that 
 was filled gloriously with noble, and even with royal names, 
 till at last she stopped short, and covering one medallion 
 with her finger, she said — 
 
 ' Pass over that, dear Lady Killpatrick. You are not 
 to see that, Lord Colambre — that's a little blot in our scutcheon. 
 You know, Isabel, we never talk of that prudent match of 
 great-uncle John's ; what could he expect by marrying into 
 that family, where you know all the men were not sans fteur, 
 and none of the women sans reproche? 
 
 1 Oh mamma ! ' cried Lady Isabel, ' not one exception ?' 
 
 'Not one, Isabel,' persisted Lady Dashfort; 'there was 
 
 Lady , and the other sister, that married the man with 
 
 the long nose ; and the daughter again, of whom they con- 
 trived to make an honest woman, by getting her married in 
 time to a blue-ribband, and who contrived to get herself into 
 Doctors' Commons the very next year.' 
 
 ' Well, dear mamma, that is enough, and too much. Oh ! 
 pray don't go on,' cried Lady Isabel, who had appeared very 
 
 207
 
 THE ABSENT] E 
 
 much distressed during her mot peech. 'You don't 
 
 know what you arc saying ; indeed, ma'am, you don't.' 
 
 ' Very likely, < hild ; but that compliment I i an return to you 
 
 on the spot, and with i ; em to me, at tins 
 
 instant, not to know either what you are saying or what you 
 arc doing. I ■ »me, i ome, ej plain.' 
 
 • • Hi no, ma'am I 'ray say SO no more ; I will explain myself 
 another time.' 
 
 1 Nay, there you are wrong, Isabel; in point of good-breed- 
 ing, anything is better than hints and mystery. Since I have 
 been so unlucky as to toui h upon the subje< t, better k" through 
 with it, and, with all the boldness of innocence ask the question, 
 
 Are you, my Lord Colambre, or are you not, related or con- 
 nected with any of the St. < "mars ?' 
 
 'Not that I know of, 1 said Lord Colambre; 'but I really 
 am so bad a genealogist, that I cannot answer positively.' 
 
 ■ Then 1 must put the ■ of my question into a new 
 
 form. Have you, or have you not, a cousin of the name of 
 Nugent ': ' 
 
 'Miss Nugent! Grace Nugent! Yes,' said Lord Colambre, 
 with as much firmness of voice as he could command, and with 
 as little change of countenano blej but, as the qui 
 
 came upon him so unexpectedly, it was not in Ins power 
 to answer with an air of absolute indifference and 
 re. 
 
 'Ami her mother was ' said Lady Dashfort. 
 
 1 My aunt, by marriage ; her maiden name wis Reynolds, 
 I think. But she died when I was quite a child. I know- 
 very little about her. I never saw her in my life; but I am 
 certain she was a Reynolds.' 
 
 'Oh, my dear lord,' continued Lady Dashfort; 'I am 
 perfectly aware that she did take and bear the name of 
 Reynolds ; but that was not her maiden name — her maiden 
 
 name was ; but perhaps it is a family secret that has 
 
 been kept, for some good reason from you, and from the poor 
 girl herself; the maiden name was St. Omar, depend upon it. 
 Nay, I would not have told this to you, my lord, if I could 
 have conceived that it would affect you so violently,' pui 
 Lady Dashfort, in a tone of raillery ; ' you see you are no 
 worse off than we are. We have an intermarriage with the 
 St. Omars. I did not think you would be so much shocked 
 
 208
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 at a discovery, which proves that our family and yours have 
 some little connexion.' 
 
 Lord Colambre endeavoured to answer, and mechanically 
 said something about, ' happy to have the honour.' Lady 
 Dashfort, truly happy to see that her blow had hit the mark 
 so well, turned from his lordship without seeming to observe 
 how seriously he was affected ; and Lady Isabel sighed, and 
 looked with compassion on Lord Colambre, and then reproach- 
 fully at her mother. But Lord Colambre heeded not her 
 looks, and heard not of her sighs ; he heard nothing", saw 
 nothing, though his eyes were intently fixed on the genealogy, 
 on which Lady Dashfort was still descanting to Lady Kill- 
 patrick. He took the first opportunity he could of quitting the 
 room, and went out to take a solitary walk. 
 
 ' There he is, departed, but not in peace, to reflect upon 
 what has been said,' whispered Lady Dashfort to her 
 daughter. ' I hope it will do him a vast deal of good.' 
 
 ' None of the women satis reproche .' None ! — without one 
 exception,' said Lord Colambre to himself; 'and Grace 
 Nugent's mother a St. Omar ! — Is it possible ? Lady Dashfort 
 seems certain. She could not assert a positive falsehood — 
 no motive. She does not know that Miss Nugent is the 
 person to whom I am attached— she spoke at random. And 
 I have heard it first from a stranger — not from my mother. 
 Why was it kept secret from me? Now I understand the 
 reason why my mother evidently never wished that I should 
 think of Miss Nugent — why she always spoke so vehemently 
 against the marriages of relations, of cousins. Why not tell 
 me the truth ? It would have had the strongest effect, had 
 she known my mind.' 
 
 Lord Colambre had the greatest dread of marrying any 
 woman whose mother had conducted herself ill. His reason, 
 his prejudices, his pride, his delicacy, and even his limited 
 experience, were all against it. All his hopes, his plans of 
 future happiness, were shaken to their very foundation ; he felt 
 as if he had received a blow that stunned his mind, and from 
 which he could not recover his faculties. The whole of that 
 day he was like one in a dream. At night the painful idea 
 continually recurred to him ; and whenever he was falling 
 asleep, the sound of Lady Dashfort's voice returned upon his 
 ear, saying the words, ' What could he expect when he 
 
 209 P
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 married one of the St. Omars ? None of the women sans 
 reproche. 1 
 
 In the morning he rose early ; and the first thing he did 
 was to write a letter to his mother, requesting (unless there 
 was some important reason for her declining to answer the 
 question) that she would immediately relieve his mind from a 
 great uneasiness (he altered the word four times, but at last 
 left it uneasiness). He stated what he had heard, and besought 
 his mother to tell him the whole truth, without reserve. 
 
 210
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 One morning- Lady Dashfort had formed an ingenious scheme 
 for leaving Lady Isabel and Lord Colambrc tclc-u-tctc ; but 
 the sudden entrance of Heathcock disconcerted her intentions. 
 He came to beg Lady Dashfort's interest with Count O'Halloran, 
 for permission to hunt and shoot on his grounds. — ' Not for 
 myself, 'pon honour, but for two officers who are quartered at 
 the next town here, who will indubitably hang or drown them- 
 selves if they are debarred from sporting.' 
 
 'Who is this Count O'Halloran?' said Lord Colambrc. 
 Miss White, Lady Killpatrick's companion, said 'he was 
 a great oddity;' Lady Dashfort, 'that he was singular;' and 
 the clergyman of the parish, who was at breakfast, declared ' that 
 he was a man of uncommon knowledge, merit, and politeness.' 
 
 'All I know of him,' said Heathcock, 'is, that he is a great 
 sportsman, with a long queue, a golddaced hat, and long skirls 
 to a laced waistcoat.' Lord Colambrc expressed a wish to see 
 this extraordinary personage ; and Lady Dashfort, to cover her 
 former design, and, perhaps, thinking absence might be as 
 effectual as too much propinquity, immediately offered to call 
 upon the officers in their way, and carry them with Heathcock 
 and Lord Colambre to Halloran Castle. 
 
 Lady Isabel retired with much mortification, but with 
 becoming grace ; and Captain Benson and Captain Williamson 
 were taken to the count's. Captain Benson, who was a famous 
 whip) took his seat on the box of the barouche, and the rest of 
 the party had the pleasure of her ladyship's conversation for 
 three or four miles : of her ladyship's conversation — for Lord 
 Colambre's thoughts were far distant ; Captain Williamson had 
 not anything to say ; and Heathcock nothing but, ' Eh ! re'lly 
 now ! — 'pon honour ! ' 
 
 211
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 They arrived at Halloran Castle — a fine old building, part 
 of it in ruins, and part repaired with great judgment and taste. 
 When the carriage stopped, a respectable-looking man-servant 
 appeared on the steps, at the open hall-door. 
 
 Count O'Halloran was out a-hunting ; but his servant said 
 'that he would be at home immediately, if Lady Dashfort and 
 the gentlemen would be pleased to walk in.' 
 
 On one side of the lofty and spacious hall stood the skeleton 
 of an elk ; on the other side, the perfect skeleton of a moose- 
 deer, which, as the servant said, his master had made out, with 
 great care, from the different bones of many of this curious 
 species of deer, found in the lakes in the neighbourhood. The 
 brace of officers witnessed their wonder with sundry strange 
 oaths and exclamations. — 'Eh! 'pon honour — re'lly now!' 
 said Heathcock ; and, too genteel to wonder at or admire 
 anything in the creation, dragged out his watch with some 
 difficulty, saying, ' I wonder now whether they are likely to 
 think of giving us anything to eat in this place ?' And, turning 
 his back upon the moose-deer, he straight walked out again 
 upon the steps, called to his groom, and began to make some 
 inquiry about his led horse. Lord Colambre surveyed the 
 prodigious skeletons with rational curiosity, and with that sense 
 of awe and admiration, by which a superior mind is always 
 struck on beholding any of the great works of Providence. 
 
 'Come, my dear lord: - ' said Lady Dashfort; 'with our 
 sublime sensations, we are keeping my old friend, Mr. Alick 
 Brady, this venerable person, waiting, to show us into the 
 reception-room.' 
 
 The servant bowed respectfully — more respectfully than 
 servants of modern date. 
 
 ' My lady, the reception-room has been lately painted — the 
 smell of paint may be disagreeable ; with your leave, I will 
 take the liberty of showing you into my master's stud).' 
 
 He opened the door, went in before her, and stood holding 
 up his finger, as if making a signal of silence to some one 
 within. Her ladyship entered, and found herself in the midst 
 of an odd assembly : an eagle, a goat, a dog, an otter, several 
 gold and silver fish in a glass globe, and a white mouse in 
 a cage. The eagle, quick of eye but quiet of demeanour, was 
 perched upon his stand ; the otter lay under the table, perfectly 
 harmless ; the Angora goat, a beautiful and remarkably little 
 
 212
 
 outstretched amis.' 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmiilan & Co.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 creature of its kind, with long, curling, silky hair, was walking 
 about the room with the air of a beauty and a favourite ; the 
 dog, a tall Irish greyhound — one of the few of that fine race 
 which is now almost extinct — had been given to Count 
 O'Halloran by an Irish nobleman, a relation of Lady Dash- 
 fort's. This dog, who had formerly known her ladyship, 
 looked at her with ears erect, recognised her, and went to 
 meet her the moment she entered. The servant answered for 
 the peaceable behaviour of all the rest of the company of 
 animals, and retired. Lady Dashfort began to feed the eagle 
 from a silver plate on his stand ; Lord Colambre examined 
 the inscription on his collar ; the other men stood in amaze. 
 Heathcock, who came in last, astonished out of his constant 
 ' Eh ! re'lly now ! ' the moment he put himself in at the door, 
 exclaimed, ' Zounds ! what's all this live lumber ? ' and he 
 stumbled over the goat, who was at that moment crossing the 
 way. The colonel's spur caught in the goat's curly beard ; 
 the colonel shook his foot, and entangled the spur worse and 
 worse ; the goat struggled and butted ; the colonel skated 
 forward on the polished oak floor, balancing himself with out- 
 stretched arms. 
 
 The indignant eagle screamed, and, passing by, perched on 
 Heathcock's shoulders. Too well-bred to have recourse to the 
 terrors of his beak, he scrupled not to scream, and flap his 
 wings about the colonel's ears. Lady Dashfort, the while, 
 threw herself back in her chair, laughing, and begging Heath- 
 cock's pardon. ' Oh, take care of the dog, my dear colonel ! ' 
 cried she ; ' for this kind of dog seizes his enemy by the back, 
 and shakes him to death.' The officers, holding their sides, 
 laughed, and begged — no pardon ; while Lord Colambre, the 
 only person who was not absolutely incapacitated, tried to 
 disentangle the spur, and to liberate the colonel from the goat, 
 and the goat from the colonel ; an attempt in which he at last 
 succeeded, at the expense of a considerable portion of the goat's 
 beard. The eagle, however, still kept his place ; and, yet 
 mindful of the wrongs of his insulted friend the goat, had 
 stretched his wings to give another buffet. Count O'Halloran 
 entered ; and the bird, quitting his prey, flew down to greet 
 his master. The count was a fine old military- looking 
 gentleman, fresh from the chace : his hunting accoutrements 
 hanging carelessly about him, he advanced, unembarrassed, to 
 
 214
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the lady ; and received his other guests with a mixture of 
 military ease and gentleman-like dignity. 
 
 Without adverting to the awkward and ridiculous situation in 
 which he had found poor Heathcock, he apologised in general for 
 his troublesome favourites. ' For one of them,' said he, patting 
 the head of the dog, which lay quiet at Lady Dashfort's feet, 
 ' I see I have no need to apologise ; he is where he ought to 
 be. Poor fellow ! he has never lost his taste for the good 
 company to which he was early accustomed. As to the rest,' 
 said he, turning to Lady Dashfort, ' a mouse, a bird, and a 
 fish, are, you know, tribute from earth, air, and water, for my 
 conqueror ' 
 
 ' But from no barbarous Scythian ! ' said Lord Colambre, 
 smiling. The count looked at Lord Colambre, as at a person 
 worthy his attention ; but his first care was to keep the peace 
 between his loving subjects and his foreign visitors. It was 
 difficult to dislodge the old settlers, to make room for the new- 
 comers ; but he adjusted these things with admirable facility ; 
 and, with a master's hand and master's eye, compelled each 
 favourite to retreat into the back settlements. With becoming 
 attention, he stroked and kept quiet old Victory, his eagle, who 
 eyed Colonel Heathcock still, as if he did not like him ; and 
 whom the colonel eyed, as if he wished his neck fairly 
 wrung off. The little goat had nestled himself close up to 
 his liberator, Lord Colambre, and lay perfectly quiet, with his 
 eyes closed, going very wisely to sleep, and submitting philo- 
 sophically to the loss of one half of his beard. Conversation 
 now commenced, and was carried on by Count O'Halloran 
 with much ability and spirit, and with such quickness of dis- 
 crimination and delicacy of taste, as quite surprised and 
 delighted our hero. To the lady, the count's attention was 
 first directed : he listened to her as she spoke, bending with 
 an air of deference and devotion. She made her request for 
 permission for Major Benson and Captain Williamson to hunt 
 and shoot in his grounds ; this was instantly granted. 
 
 ' Her ladyship's requests were to him commands,' the count 
 said. ' His gamekeeper should be instructed to give the 
 gentlemen, her friends, every liberty, and all possible assist- 
 ance.' 
 
 Then turning to the officers, he said he had just heard that 
 several regiments of English militia had lately landed in 
 
 215
 
 I UK ABSENTEE 
 
 Ireland ; that one regiment was arrived at Killpatrickslown. 
 He rejoiced in the advantages Ireland, and he hoped he 
 might be permitted to add, England, would probably derive 
 from the exchange of the militia of both countries ; habits 
 would be improved, ideas enlarged. The two countries have 
 the same interest ; and, from the inhabitants discovering more 
 of each other's good qualities, and interchanging little good 
 offices in common life, their esteem and affection for each 
 other would increase, and rest upon the firm basis of mutual 
 utility.' 
 
 To all this Major Benson and Captain Williamson made no 
 reply. 
 
 'The major looks so like a stuffed man of straw,' whispered 
 Lady Dashfort to Lord Colambre ; 'and the captain so like 
 the knave of clubs, putting forth one manly leg.' 
 
 Count O'llalloran now turned the conversation to field 
 sports, and then the captain and major opened at once. 
 
 'Pray now, sir?' said the major, 'you fox-hunt in this 
 country, I suppose ; and now do you manage the thing here 
 as we do? Over night, you know, before the hunt, when the 
 fox is out, stopping up the earths of the cover we mean to 
 draw, and all the rest for four miles round. Next morning we 
 assemble at the cover's side, and the huntsman throws in the 
 hounds. The gossip here is no small part of the entertain- 
 ment ; but as soon as we hear the hounds give tongue ' 
 
 ' The favourite hounds,' interposed Williamson. 
 
 'The favourite hounds, to be sure,' continued Benson; 
 'there is a dead silence, till pug is well out of cover, and the 
 whole pack well in ; then cheer the hounds with tally-ho ! 
 till your lungs crack. Away he goes in gallant style, and the 
 whole field is hard up, till pug takes a stiff country ; then 
 they who haven't pluck lag, see no more of him, and, with a fine 
 blazing scent, there are but few of us in at the death.' 
 
 'Well, we are fairly in at the death, 1 hope,' said Lady 
 Dashfort ; ' I was thrown out sadly at one time in the chace.' 
 
 Lord Colambre, with the count's permission, took up 
 a book in which the count's pencil lay, Paslcy on the Military 
 Policy of Great Britain j it was marked with many notes of 
 admiration, and with hands pointing to remarkable passages. 
 
 'That is a book that leaves a strong impression on the 
 mind, ' said the count. 
 
 216
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Lord Colambre read one of the marked passages, beginning 
 with, 'All that distinguishes a soldier in outward appearance 
 
 from a citizen is so trifling ' but at this instant our hero's 
 
 attention was distracted by seeing in a black-letter book this 
 title of a chapter : 
 
 ' Burial-place of the Nugents.' 
 
 1 Pray now, sir,' said Captain Williamson, ' if I don't inter- 
 rupt you, as you are such a famous fox-hunter, maybe, you 
 may be a fisherman too ; and now in Ireland do you, Mr. ' 
 
 A smart pinch on his elbow from his major, who stood 
 behind him, stopped the captain short, as he pronounced the 
 word Mr. Like all awkward people, he turned directly to ask, 
 by his looks, what was the matter ? 
 
 The major took advantage of his discomfiture, and, stepping 
 before him, determined to have the fishing to himself, and went 
 on with — ■ 
 
 ' Count O'Halloran, I presume you understand fishing loo, 
 as well as hunting ? ' 
 
 The count bowed : ' I do not presume to say that, sir.' 
 
 ' But pray, count, in this country, do you arm your hook this 
 ways? Give me leave;' taking the whip from William- 
 son's reluctant hand, ' this ways, laying the outermost part of 
 your feather this fashion next to your hook, and the point next 
 to your shank, this wise, and that wise ; and then, sir, — count, 
 you take the hackle of a cock's neck ' 
 
 'A plover's topping's belter,' said Williamson. 
 
 'And work your gold and silver thread,' pursued Benson, 
 'up to your wings, and when your head's made, you fasten all.' 
 
 ' But you never showed how your head's made,' interrupted 
 Williamson. 
 
 ' The gentleman knows how a head's made ; any man can 
 make a head, I suppose ; so, sir, you fasten all.' 
 
 ' You'll never get your head fast on that way, while the world 
 stands,' cried Williamson. 
 
 ' Fast enough for all purposes ; I'll bet you a rump and 
 dozen, captain ; and then, sir, — count, you divide your wings 
 with a needle.' 
 
 'A pin's point will do,' said Williamson. 
 
 The count, to reconcile matters, produced from an Indian 
 cabinet, which he had opened for the lady's inspection, a little 
 basket containing a variety of artificial flies of curious con- 
 
 217
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 struction, which, as he spread them on the table, made 
 Williamson and Benson's eyes almost sparkle with delight. 
 There was the dun-fly, for the month of March ; and the stone- 
 fly, much in vogue for April ; and the ruddy-fly, of red wool, 
 black silk, and red capon's feathers. 
 
 Lord Colambre, whose head was in the burial-place of the 
 Nugents, wished them all at the bottom of the sea. 
 
 'And the green-fly, and the moorish-fly!* cried Benson, 
 snatching them up with transport ; 'and, chief, the sad-yellow- 
 fly, in whic h the fish delight in June ; the sad-yellow-fly, made 
 with the buzzard's wings, bound with black braked hemp, and 
 the shell-fly, for the middle of July, made of greenish wool, 
 wrapped about with the herle of a peacock's tail, famous for 
 creating excellent sport.' All these and more were spread 
 upon the table before the sportsmen's wondering eyes. 
 
 'Capital flies ! capital, faith ! ' cried Williamson. 
 
 'Treasures, faith, real treasures, by G — !' cried Benson. 
 
 ' Eh ! 'pon honour ! re'lly now,' were the first words which 
 llcathcock had uttered since his battle with the goat. 
 
 'My dear Hcathcock, are you alive still?' said Lady 
 Dashfort ; ' I had really forgotten your existence.' 
 
 So had Count O'Halloran, but he did not say so. 
 
 'Your ladyship has the advantage of me there,' said 
 Heathcock, stretching himself; 'I wish I could forget my 
 existence, for, in my mind, existence is a horrible bore? 
 
 ' I thought you icas a sportsman,' said Williamson. 
 
 ' Well, sir ? ' 
 
 ' And a fisherman ? ' 
 
 'Well, sir?' 
 
 ' Why, look you there, sir,' pointing to the flies, ' and tell a 
 body life's a bore.' 
 
 'One can't always fish, or shoot, I apprehend, sir,' said 
 Heathcock. 
 
 ' Not always — but sometimes,' said Williamson, laughing ; 
 ' for I suspect shrewdly you've forgot some of your sporting in 
 Bond Street.' 
 
 ' Eh ! 'pon honour ! re'lly now ! ' said the colonel, retreating 
 again to his safe entrenchment of affectation, from which he 
 never could venture without imminent danger. 
 
 ' 'Pon honour,' cried Lady Dashfort, ' I can swear for 
 Heathcock, that I have eaten excellent hares and ducks of his 
 
 218
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 shooting, which, to my knowledge,' added she, in a loud 
 whisper, ' he bought in the market. 5 
 
 ' Empium aprum / ' said Lord Colambre to the count, with- 
 out danger of being understood by those whom it concerned. 
 
 The count smiled a second time ; but politely turning the 
 attention of the company from the unfortunate colonel by 
 addressing himself to the laughing sportsmen, ' Gentlemen, 
 you seem to value these,' said he, sweeping the artificial flies 
 from the table into the little basket from which they had been 
 taken ; ' would you do me the honour to accept of them ? 
 They are all of my own making, and consequently of Irish 
 manufacture.' Then, ringing the bell, he asked Lady Dashfort's 
 permission to have the basket put into her carriage. 
 
 Benson and Williamson followed the servant, to prevent 
 them from being tossed into the boot. Heathcock stood still 
 in the middle of the room taking snuff. 
 
 Count O'Halloian turned from him to Lord Colambre, who 
 had just got happily to the burial-place of the Nugents^ when 
 Lady Dashfort, coming between them, and spying the title of 
 the chapter, exclaimed — 
 
 ' What have you there ? — Antiquities ! my delight ! — but I 
 never look at engravings when I can see realities.' 
 
 Lord Colambre was then compelled to follow, as she led 
 the way into the hall, where the count took down golden orna- 
 ments, and brass-headed spears, and jointed horns of curious 
 workmanship, that had been found on his estate ; and he told 
 of spermaceti wrapped in carpets, and he showed small urns, 
 enclosing ashes ; and from among these urns he selected one, 
 which he put into the hands of Lord Colambre, telling him 
 that it had been lately found in an old abbey-ground in his 
 neighbourhood, which had been the burial-place of some of the 
 Nugent family. 
 
 ' I was just looking at the account of it, in the book which 
 you saw open on my table. — And as you seem to take an 
 interest in that family, my lord, perhaps,' said the count, ' you 
 may think this urn worth your acceptance.' 
 
 Lord Colambre said, ' It would be highly valuable to him 
 — as the Nugents were his near relations.' 
 
 Lady Dashfort little expected this blow ; she, however, 
 carried him off to the moose-deer, and from moose-deer to round- 
 towers, to various architectural antiquities, and to the real and 
 
 219
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 fabulous history of Ireland, on all which the count spoke with 
 learning and enthusiasm. But now, to Colonel Heathcock's 
 
 great joy and relief, a handsome collation appeared in the 
 dining-room, of which Ulick opened the folding-doors. 
 
 ' Count, you have made an excellent house of your castle,' 
 said Lady Dashfort. 
 
 ' It will be, when it is finished,' said the count. ' I am 
 afraid,' added he, smiling, ' I live like many Other Irish gentle- 
 men, who never are, but always to be, blest with a good 
 house. I began on too large a scale, and can never hope to 
 live to finish it. - ' 
 
 ' Ton honour ! here's a good thing, which I hope we shall 
 live to finish,' said Ileathcock, sitting down before the 
 collation ; and heartily did he eat of grouse pie, and of [ri >h 
 ortolans, which, as Lady Dashfort observed, 'afforded him 
 indemnity for the past, and security for the future.' 
 
 'Eh! re'lly now! your Irish ortolans are famous good 
 eating, 9 said I teathcock. 
 
 'Worth being quartered in Ireland, faith ! to taste 'em, 1 
 Benson. 
 
 The count recommended to Lady Dashfort some of ' that 
 delicate sweetmeat, the Irish plum.' 
 
 ' Bless me, sir — count ! ' cried Williamson, ' it's by far the 
 best thing of the kind I ever tasted in all my life : where could 
 you get this ?' 
 
 ' In Dublin, at my dear Mrs. Godey's ; where only, in his 
 Majesty's dominions, it is to be had,' said the count. The 
 whole dish vanished in a few seconds. — ' Ton honour ! I do 
 believe this is the thing the queen's so fond of,' said Heathcock. 
 
 Then heartily did he drink of the count's excellent I lungarian 
 wines ; and, by the common bond of sympathy between those 
 who have no other tastes but eating and drinking, the colonel, 
 the major, and the captain were now all the best companions 
 possible for one another. 
 
 Whilst ' they prolonged the rich repast,' Lady Dashfort and 
 Lord Colambre went to the window to admire the prospect ; 
 Lady Dashfort asked the count the name of some distant hill. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' said the count, ' that hill was once covered with fine 
 wood ; but it was all cut down two years ago.' 
 
 ' Who could have been so cruel ? ' said her ladyship. 
 
 ' I forget the present proprietor's name,' said the count ; 
 220
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'but he is one of those who, according to the clause of distress 
 in their leases, lead, drive^ and carry away, but never enter 
 their lands ; one of those enemies to Ireland — these cruel 
 absentees ! ' Lady Dashfort looked through her glass at the 
 mountain ; — Lord Colambre sighed, and, endeavouring to pass 
 it off with a smile, said frankly to the count — 
 
 ' You are not aware, I am sure, count, that you are 
 speaking to the son of an Irish absentee family. — Nay, do not 
 be shocked, my dear sir ; I tell you only, because I thought 
 it fair to do so ; but let me assure you, that nothing you could 
 say on that subject could hurt me personally, because I feel 
 that I am not, that I never can be, an enemy to Ireland. An 
 absentee, voluntarily, I never yet have been ; and as to the 
 future, I declare ' 
 
 ' I declare you know nothing of the future,' intermpted 
 Lady Dashfort, in a half-peremptory, half-playful tone — ' you 
 know nothing ; make no rash vows, and you will break none.' 
 
 The undaunted assurance of Lady Dashfort's genius for 
 intrigue gave her an air of frank imprudence, which prevented 
 Lord Colambre from suspecting that more was meant than 
 met the ear. The count and he took leave of one another 
 with mutual regard ; and Lady Dashfort rejoiced to have got 
 our hero out of Halloran Castle. 
 
 22X
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Lord Colamdre had waited with great impatience for an 
 answer to the letter of inquiry which he had written about 
 Miss Nugcnt's mother. A letter from Lady Clonbrony 
 arrived ; he opened it with the greatest eagerness — passed 
 over 
 
 ' Rheumatism — warm weather — warm bath— Buxton balls 
 — -Miss Broadhurst — your friend^ Sir Arthur Berryl, very 
 assiduous !' The name of Grace Nugent he found at last, and 
 read as follows : 
 
 Her mother's maiden name was .9/. Omar : and there was A faux 
 pas, certainly. She was, I am told (for it was before my time), 
 educated at a convent abroad ; and there was an affair with a Captain 
 Reynolds, a young officer, which her friends were obliged to hush up. 
 She brought an infant to England with her, and took the name of 
 Reynolds — but none of that family would acknowledge her ; and she 
 lived in great obscurity, till your uncle Nugent saw, fell in love with 
 her, and (knowing her whole history) married her. lie adopted the 
 child, gave her his name, and, after some years, the whole story was 
 forgotten. Nothing could be more disadvantageous to Grace than to 
 have it revived : this is the reason we kept it secret. 
 
 Lord Colambre tore the letter to bits. 
 
 From the perturbation which Lady Dashfort saw in his 
 countenance, she guessed the nature of the letter which he 
 had been reading, and for the arrival of which he had been 
 so impatient. 
 
 'It has worked!' said she to herself. '■Pour le coup 
 PJiilippe je te tiens ! ' 
 
 Lord Colambre appeared this day more sensible, than he 
 had ever yet seemed, to the charms of the fair Isabel. 
 
 ' Many a tennis-ball, and many a heart is caught at the 
 rebound,' said Lady Dashfort. ' Isabel ! now is your time ! '
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 And so it was — or so, perhaps, it would have been, but 
 for a circumstance which her ladyship, with all her genius 
 for intrigue, had never taken into her consideration. Count 
 O'Halloran came to return the visit which had been paid to 
 him ; and, in the course of conversation, he spoke of the 
 officers who had been introduced to him, and told Lady 
 Dashfort that he had heard a report which shocked him 
 much — he hoped it could not be true — that one of these 
 officers had introduced his mistress as his wife to Lady 
 Oranmore, who lived in the neighbourhood. This officer, it 
 was said, had let Lady Oranmore send her carriage for this 
 woman ; and that she had dined at Oranmore with her lady- 
 ship and her daughters. 1 ' But I cannot believe it ! I cannot 
 believe it to be possible, that any gentleman, that any officer, 
 could do such a thing ! ' said the count. 
 
 'And is this all?' exclaimed Lady Dashfort. 'Is this all 
 the terrible affair, my good count, which has brought your 
 face to this prodigious length?' 
 
 The count looked at Lady Dashfort with astonishment. 
 
 'Such a look of virtuous indignation,' continued she, 'did 
 I never behold, on or off the stage. Forgive me for 
 laughing, count ; but, believe me, comedy goes through the 
 world better than tragedy, and, take it all in all, does rather 
 less mischief. As to the thing in question, I know nothing 
 about it : I dare say, it is not true ; but, now, suppose it was — 
 it is only a silly quiz, of a raw young officer, upon a prudish 
 old dowager. I know nothing about it, for my part ; but, 
 after all, what irreparable mischief has been done ? Laugh at 
 the thing, and then it is a jest — a bad one, perhaps, but still 
 only a jest — and there's an end of it ; but take it seriously, 
 and there is no knowing where it might end — in half a dozen 
 duels, maybe.' 
 
 ' Of that, madam,' said the count, ' Lady Oranmore's 
 prudence and presence of mind have prevented all danger. 
 Her ladyship would not understand the insult. She said, or 
 she acted as if she said, "Je ne veux rien voir, rien ccouter, 
 rien savoir" Lady Oranmore is one of the most re- 
 spectable ' 
 
 ' Count, I beg your pardon ! ' interrupted Lady Dashfort ; 
 ' but I must tell you that your favourite, Lady Oranmore, has 
 
 1 Fact. 
 223
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 behaved very ill to me ; purposely omitted to invite Isabel to 
 ber ball ; offended and insulted me : — ber praises, therefore, 
 cannot be the most agreeable subject of conversation you 
 can choose for my amusement ; and as to the rest, you, who 
 have such variety and so much politeness, will, I am sure, 
 have the goodness to indulge my caprice in this instance.' 
 
 ' I shall obey your ladyship, and be silent, whatever pleasure 
 it might give me to speak on that subject,' said the count ; 
 ' and I trust Lady Dashfort will reward mc by the assurance 
 that, however playfully she may have just now spoken, she 
 seriously disapproves and is shocked.' 
 
 ' Oh, shocked ! shocked to death ! if that will satisfy you, 
 my dear count.' 
 
 The count, obviously, was not satisfied ; he had civil, as well 
 as military courage, and his sense of right and wrong could 
 stand against the raillery and ridicule of a fine lady. 
 
 The conversation ended : Lady Dashfort thought it 
 would have no further consequences ; and she did not regret 
 the loss of a man like Count O'Halloran, who lived retired in 
 his castle, and who could not have any influence upon the 
 opinion of the fashionable world. However, upon turning 
 from the count to Lord Colambre, who she thought had been 
 occupied with Lady Isabel, and to whom she imagined all this 
 dispute was uninteresting, she perceived, by his countenance, 
 that she had made a great mistake. Still she trusted that her 
 power over Lord Colambre was sufficient easily to efface what- 
 ever unfavourable impression this conversation had made upon 
 his mind. He had no personal interest in the affair ; and she 
 had generally found that people are easily satisfied about any 
 wrong or insult, public or private, in which they have no 
 immediate concern. But all the charms of her conversation 
 were now tried in vain to reclaim him from the reverie into 
 which he had fallen. 
 
 His friend Sir James Brooke's parting advice occurred to 
 our hero ; his eyes began to open to Lady Dashfort's character; 
 and he was, from this moment, freed from her power. Lady 
 Isabel, however, had taken no part in all this — she was blame- 
 less ; and, independently of her mother, and in pretended 
 opposition of sentiment, she might have continued to retain 
 the influence she had gained over Lord Colambre, but that a 
 slight accident revealed to him her real disposition. 
 
 224
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 It happened, on the evening of this day, that Lady Isabel 
 came into the library with one of the young ladies of the 
 
 : " / detest that Lady de Cresey to such a degree." ' 
 Copyright 1894 l>y Macmillan &• Co. 
 
 house, talking very eagerly, without perceiving Lord Colambre, 
 who was sitting in one of the recesses reading. 
 
 ' My dear creature, you are quite mistaken,' said Lady 
 Isabel, 'he was never a favourite of mine; I always detested 
 
 225 Q
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 him ; I only flirted with him to plague his wife. Oh that wife, 
 my dear Elizabeth, I do hate ! ' cried she, clasping her hands, 
 and expressing hatred with all her soul and with all her 
 strength. ' I detest that Lady de Crcsey to such a degree, 
 that, to purchase the pleasure of making her feel the pangs of 
 jealousy for one hour, look, I would this moment lay down 
 this finger and let it be cut off.' 
 
 The face, the whole figure of Lady Isabel at this moment 
 appeared to Lord Colambre suddenly metamorphosed ; instead 
 of the soft, gentle, amiable female, all sweet charity and tender 
 sympathy, formed to love and to be loved, he beheld one 
 possessed and convulsed by an evil spirit — her beauty, if beauty 
 it could be called, the beauty of a fiend. Some ejaculation, 
 which he unconsciously uttered, made Lady Isabel start. She 
 saw him — saw the expression of his countenance, and knew 
 that all was over. 
 
 Lord Colambre, to the utter astonishment and disappoint- 
 ment of Lady Dashfort, and to the still greater mortification of 
 Lady Isabel, announced this night that it was necessary he 
 should immediately pursue his tour in Ireland. We pass over 
 all the castles in the air which the young ladies of the family 
 had built, and which now fell to the ground. We pass all the 
 civil speeches of Lord and Lady Killpatrick ; all the vehement 
 remonstrances of Lady Dashfort ; and the vain sighs of Lady 
 Isabel. To the last moment Lady Dashfort said — 
 
 ' He will not go.' 
 
 But he went ; and, when he was gone, Lady Dashfort ex- 
 claimed, 'That man has escaped from me.' And after a pause, 
 turning to her daughter, she, in the most taunting and con- 
 temptuous terms, reproached her as the cause of this failure, 
 concluding by a declaration that she must in future manage her 
 own affairs, and had best settle her mind to marry Heathcock, 
 since every one else was too wise to think of her. 
 
 Lady Isabel of course retorted. But we leave this amiable 
 mother and daughter to recriminate in appropriate terms, and 
 we follow our hero, rejoiced that he has been disentangled from 
 their snares. Those who have never been in similar peril will 
 wonder much that he did not escape sooner ; those who have 
 ever been in like danger will wonder more that he escaped at 
 all. Those who are best acquainted with the heart or imagina- 
 tion of man will be most ready to acknowledge that the com- 
 
 2.? 6
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 bined charms of wit, beauty, and flattery, may, for a time, 
 suspend the action of right reason in the mind of the greatest 
 philosopher, or operate against the resolutions of the greatest 
 of heroes. 
 
 Lord Colambre pursued his way to Castle Halloran, de- 
 sirous, before he quitted this part of the country, to take leave 
 of the count, who had shown him much civility, and for whose 
 honourable conduct, and generous character, he had conceived 
 a high esteem, which no little peculiarities of antiquated dress 
 or manner could diminish. Indeed, the old-fashioned politeness 
 of what was formerly called a well-bred gentleman pleased him 
 better than the indolent or insolent selfishness of modern men 
 of the ton. Perhaps, notwithstanding our hero's determination 
 to turn his mind from everything connected with the idea of 
 Miss Nugent, some latent curiosity about the burial-place of 
 the Nugents might have operated to make him call upon the 
 count. In this hope he was disappointed ; for a cross miller, 
 to whom the abbey-ground was let, on which the burial-place 
 was found, had taken it into his head to refuse admittance, and 
 none could enter his ground. 
 
 Count O'Halloran was much pleased by Lord Colambre's 
 visit. The very day of Lord Colambre's arrival at Halloran 
 Castle, the count was going to Oranmore ; he was dressed, 
 and his carriage was waiting ; therefore Lord Colambre begged 
 that he might not detain him, and the count requested his 
 lordship to accompany him. 
 
 ' Let me have the honour of introducing you, my lord, to a 
 family, with whom, I am persuaded, you will be pleased ; by 
 whom you will be appreciated ; and at whose house you will 
 have an opportunity of seeing the best manner of living of the 
 Irish nobility.' Lord Colambre accepted the invitation, and 
 was introduced at Oranmore. The dignified appearance and 
 respectable character of Lady Oranmore ; the charming un- 
 affected manners of her daughters ; the air of domestic happi- 
 ness and comfort in her family ; the becoming magnificence, 
 free from ostentation, in her whole establishment ; the respect 
 and affection with which she was treated by all who approached 
 her, delighted and touched Lord Colambre ; the more, 
 perhaps, because he had heard this family so unjustly abused ; 
 and because he saw Lady Oranmore and her daughter, in 
 immediate contrast to Lady Dashfort and Lady Isabel.' 
 
 227
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 A little circumstance which occurred during this visit 
 increased his interest for the family. When Lady tie Cresey's 
 little boys came in after dinner, one of them was playing with 
 a seal, which had just been torn from a letter. The child 
 showed it to Lord Colambrc, and asked him to read the motto. 
 The motto was, 'Deeds, not words' — his friend Sir James 
 Brooke's motto, and his arms. Lord Colambre eagerly in- 
 quired if this family was acquainted with Sir James, and he 
 soon perceived that they wire not only acquainted with him, 
 but that they were particularly interested about him. 
 
 Lady Oranmore's second daughter, Lady Harriet, appeared 
 particularly pleased by the manner in which Lord Colambre 
 spoke of Sir James. And the child, who had now estab- 
 lished himself on his lordship's knee, turned round, and 
 whispered in his ear, ' 'Twas Aunt Harriet gave me the seal ; 
 Sir James is to be married to Aunt Harriet, and then he will 
 be my uncle.' 
 
 Some of the principal gentry of this part of the country 
 happened to dine at Oranmore one of the days Lord Colambre 
 was there. He was surprised at the discovery, that there were 
 so many agreeable, well-informed, and well-bred people, of 
 whom, while he was at Killpatrickstown, he had seen nothing. 
 He now discerned how far he had been deceived by Lady 
 Dashfort. 
 
 Both the count, and Lord and Lady Oranmore, who were 
 warmly attached to their country, exhorted him to make him- 
 self amends for the time he had lost, by seeing with his own 
 eyes, and judging with his own understanding, of the country 
 and its own inhabitants, during the remainder of the time he 
 was to stay in Ireland. The higher classes, in most countries, 
 they observed were generally similar ; but, in the lower class, 
 he would find many characteristic differences. 
 
 When he first came to Ireland, he had been very eager to 
 go and see his father's estate, and to judge of the conduct of 
 his agents, and the condition of his tenantry ; but this eager- 
 ness had subsided, and the design had almost faded from his 
 mind, whilst under the influence of Lady Dashfort's misrepre- 
 sentations. A mistake, relative to some remittance from his 
 banker in Dublin, obliged him to delay his journey a few days, 
 and during that time Lord and Lady Oranmore showed him 
 the neat cottages, the well-attended schools, in their neighbour- 
 
 228
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 hood. They showed him not only what could be done, but 
 what had been done, by the influence of great proprietors 
 residing on their own estates, and encouraging the people by 
 judicious kindness. 
 
 He saw, he acknowledged the truth of this ; but it did not 
 come home to his feelings now as it would have done a little 
 while ago. His views and plans were altered ; he looked 
 forward to the idea of marrying and settling in Ireland, and 
 then everything in the country was interesting to him ; but 
 since he had forbidden himself to think of a union with Miss 
 Nugent, his mind had lost its object and its spring; he was 
 not sufficiently calm to think of the public good ; his thoughts 
 were absorbed by his private concern. He knew, and repeated 
 to himself, that he ought to visit his own and his father's 
 estates, and to see the condition of his tenantry ; he desired 
 to fulfil his duties, but they ceased to appear to him easy and 
 pleasurable, for hope and love no longer brightened his 
 prospects. 
 
 That he might see and hear more than he could as heir- 
 apparent to the estate, he sent his servant to Dublin to wait 
 for him there. He travelled incognito, wrapped himself in a 
 shabby greatcoat, and took the name of Evans. He arrived 
 at a village, or, as it was called, a town, which bore the name 
 of Colambre. He was agreeably surprised by the air of neat- 
 ness and finish in the houses and in the street, which had a 
 nicely-swept paved footway. He slept at a small but excellent 
 inn — excellent, perhaps, because it was small, and proportioned 
 to the situation and business of the place. Good supper, good 
 bed, good attendance ; nothing out of repair ; no things 
 pressed into services for what they were never intended by 
 nature or art ; none of what are vulgarly called makeshifts. 
 No chambermaid slipshod, or waiter smelling of whisky ; but 
 all tight and right, and everybody doing their own business, 
 and doing it as if it was their everyday occupation, not as if 
 it was done by particular desire, for first or last time this 
 season. The landlord came in at supper to inquire whether 
 anything was wanted. Lord Colambre took this opportunity 
 of entering into conversation with him, and asked him to whom 
 the town belonged, and who were the proprietors of the 
 neighbouring estates. 
 
 1 The town belongs to an absentee lord — one Lord Clon- 
 229
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 brony, who lives always beyond the seas, in London ; and 
 never seen the town since it was a town, to call a town.' 
 
 ' And does the land in the neighbourhood belong to this 
 Lord Clonbrony ?' 
 
 ' It does, sir ; he's a great proprietor, but knows nothing of 
 his property, nor of us. Never set foot among us, to my 
 knowledge, since I was as high as the table. He might as 
 well be a West India planter, and we negroes, for anything he 
 knows to the contrary — has no more care, nor thought about 
 us, than if he were in Jamaica, or the other world. Shame 
 for him ! — But there's too many to keep him in countenance.' 
 
 Lord Colambre asked him what wine he could have ; and 
 then inquired who managed the estate for this absentee. 
 
 ' Mr. Burke, sir. And I don't know why God was so kind 
 to give so good an agent to an absentee like Lord Clonbrony, 
 except it was for the sake of us, who is under him, and knows 
 the blessing, and is thankful for the same.' 
 
 ' Very good cutlets,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' I am happy to hear it, sir. They have a right to be good, 
 for Mrs. Burke sent her own cook to teach my wife to dress 
 cutlets.' 
 
 ' So the agent is a good agent, is he ? ' 
 
 ' He is, thanks be to Heaven ! And that's what few can 
 boast, especially when the landlord's living over the seas : we 
 have the luck to have got a good agent over us, in Mr. Burke, 
 who is a right bred gentleman ; a snug little property of his 
 own, honestly made ; with the good will and good wishes, 
 and respect of all.' 
 
 ' Does he live in the neighbourhood ? ' 
 
 'Just convanienty At the end of the town ; in the house 
 on the hill, as you passed, sir ; to the left, with the trees about 
 it, all of his planting, finely grown too — for there's a blessing 
 on all he does, and he has done a deal. — There's salad, sir, 
 if you are partial to it. Very fine lettuce. Mrs. Burke 
 sent us the plants herself.' 
 
 ' Excellent salad ! So this Mr. Burke has done a great 
 deal, has he ? In what way ? ' 
 
 ' In every way, sir — sure was not it he that had improved, 
 
 and fostered, and made the town of Colambre ? — no thanks to the 
 
 proprietor, nor to the young man whose name it bears, neither 1 ; 
 
 1 Convenient: near. 
 
 230
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Have you any porter, pray, sir ?' 
 
 ' We have, sir, as good, I hope, as you'd drink in London, 
 for it's the same you get there, I understand, from Cork. And 
 I have some of my own brewing, which, they say, you could not 
 tell the difference between it and Cork quality — if you'd be 
 pleased to try. Harry, the corkscrew.' 
 
 The porter of his own brewing was pronounced to be 
 extremely good ; and the landlord observed it was Mr. Burke 
 encouraged him to learn to brew, and lent him his own brewer 
 for a time to teach him. 
 
 ' Your Mr. Burke, I find, is apropos to porter, apropos to 
 salad, apropos to cutlets, apropos to everything,' said Lord 
 Colambre, smiling ; ' he seems to be a non-pareil of an agent. 
 I suppose you are a great favourite of his, and you do what 
 you please with him ? ' 
 
 ' Oh no, sir, I could not say that ; Mr. Burke does not have 
 favourites anyway ; but according to my deserts, I trust, I 
 stand well enough with him, for, in truth, he is a right good agent.' 
 
 Lord Colambre still pressed for particulars ; he was an 
 Englishman, and a stranger, he said, and did not exactly know 
 what was meant in Ireland by a good agent. 
 
 ' Why, he is the man that will encourage the improving 
 tenant ; and show no favour or affection, but justice, which 
 comes even to all, and does best for all at the long run ; and, 
 residing always in the country, like Mr. Burke, and understand- 
 ing country business, and going about continually among the 
 tenantry, he knows when to press for the rent, and when to 
 leave the money to lay out upon the land ; and, according as 
 they would want it, can give a tenant a help or a check properly. 
 Then no duty-work called for, no presents, nor glove-money, 
 nor sealing-money even, taken or offered ; no underhand hints 
 about proposals, when land would be out of lease, but a con- 
 siderable preference, if desarved, to the old tenant, and if 
 not, a fair advertisement, and the best offer and tenant 
 accepted ; no screwing of the land to the highest penny, just 
 to please the head landlord for the minute, and ruin him at 
 the end, by the tenant's racking the land, and running off with 
 the year's rent ; nor no bargains to his own relations or friends 
 did Mr. Burke ever give or grant, but all fair between landlord 
 and tenant ; and that's the thing that will last ; and that's 
 what I call the good agent.' 
 
 231
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Lord Colambre poured out a glass of wine, and begged the 
 innkeeper to drink the good agent's health, in which he was 
 heartily pledged. ' I thank your honour ; — Mr. Burke's health ! 
 and long may he live over and amongst us ; he saved me from 
 drink and ruin, when I was once inclined to it, and made a 
 man of me and all my family.' 
 
 The particulars we cannot stay to detail : this grateful 
 man, however, took pleasure in sounding the praises of 
 his benefactor, and in raising him in the opinion of the 
 traveller. 
 
 'As you've lime, and are curious about such things, sir, 
 perhaps you'd walk up to the school that Mrs. Burke has for 
 the poor children ; and look at the market-house, and see how 
 clean he takes a pride to keep the town ; and any house in the 
 town, from the priest to the parson's, that you'd go into, will 
 give you the same character as I do of Mr. Burke : from the 
 brogue to the boot, all speak the same of him, and can say no 
 other. God for ever bless and keep him over us ! ' 
 
 Upon making further inquiries, everything the innkeeper 
 had said was confirmed by different inhabitants of the village. 
 Lord Colambre conversed with the shopkeepers, with the 
 cottagers ; and, without making any alarming inquiries, he 
 obtained all the information he wanted. He went to the 
 village school — a pretty, cheerful house, with a neat garden 
 and a play green ; met Mrs. Burke ; introduced himself to her 
 as a traveller. The school was shown to him : it was just 
 what it ought to be — neither too much nor too little had been 
 attempted ; there was neither too much interference nor too 
 little attention. Nothing for exhibition ; care to teach well, 
 without any vain attempt to teach in a wonderfully short time. 
 All that experience proves to be useful, in both Dr. Bell's and 
 Mr. Lancaster's modes of teaching, Mrs. Burke had adopted ; 
 leaving it to ' graceless zealots ' to fight about the rest. That 
 no attempts at proselytism had been made, and that no illiberal 
 distinctions had been made in this school, Lord Colambre was 
 convinced, in the best manner possible, by seeing the children 
 of Protestants and Catholics sitting on the same benches, learn- 
 ing from the same books, and speaking to one another with the 
 same cordial familiarity. Mrs. Burke was an unaffected, 
 sensible woman, free from all party prejudices, and, without 
 ostentation, desirous and capable of doing good. Lord Colambre 
 
 232
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 was much pleased with her, and very glad that she invited him 
 to dinner. 
 
 Mr. Burke did not come in till late ; for he had been 
 detained portioning out some meadows, which were of great 
 consequence to the inhabitants of the town. He brought home 
 to dine with him the clergyman and the priest of the parish, 
 both of whom he had taken successful pains to accommodate 
 with the land which suited their respective convenience. The 
 good terms on which they seemed to be with each other, and 
 with him, appeared to Lord Colambre to do honour to Mr. 
 Burke. All the favourable accounts his lordship had received 
 of this gentleman were confirmed by what he saw and heard. 
 After the clergyman and priest had taken leave, upon Lord 
 Colambre's expressing some surprise, mixed with satisfaction, 
 at seeing the harmony which subsisted between them, Mr. 
 Burke assured him that this was the same in many parts of 
 Ireland. He observed, that 'as the suspicion of ill-will never 
 fails to produce it,' so he had often found, that taking it for 
 granted that no ill-will exists has the most conciliating effect. 
 He said, to please opposite parties, he used no arts ; but he 
 tried to make all his neighbours live comfortably together, by 
 making them acquainted with each other's good qualities ; by 
 giving them opportunities of meeting sociably, and, from time 
 to time, of doing each other little services and good offices. 
 ' Fortunately, he had so much to do,' he said, ' that he had no 
 time for controversy. Lie was a plain man, made it a rule not 
 to meddle with speculative points, and to avoid all irritating 
 discussions ; he was not to rule the country, but to live in it, 
 and make others live as happily as he could.' 
 
 Having nothing to conceal in his character, opinions, or 
 circumstances, Mr. Burke was perfectly open and unreserved 
 in his manner and conversation ; freely answered all the 
 traveller's inquiries, and took pains to show him everything 
 he desired to see. Lord Colambre said he had thoughts of 
 settling in Ireland ; and declared, with truth, that he had not 
 seen any part of the country he should like better to live in 
 than this neighbourhood. He went over most of the estate 
 with Mr. Burke, and had ample opportunities of convincing 
 himself that this gentleman was indeed, as the innkeeper had de- 
 scribed him, ' a right good gentleman, and a right good agent.' 
 
 He paid Mr. Burke some just compliments on the state of 
 
 233
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the tenantry, and the neat and flourishing appearance of the 
 town of Colambre. 
 
 ' What pleasure it will give the proprietor when he sees all 
 you have done ! ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 'Oh, sir, don't speak of it! — that breaks my heart; he 
 never has shown the least interest in anything I have done ; 
 he is quite dissatisfied with me, because I have not ruined 
 his tenantry, by forcing them to pay more than the land is 
 worth ; because I have not squeezed money from them by 
 fining down rents ; and — but all this, as an Englishman, sir, 
 must be unintelligible to you. The end of the matter is, that, 
 attached as I am to this place and the people about mc, and, 
 as I hope, the tenantry are to me— I fear I shall be obliged to 
 give up the agency.' 
 
 'Give up the agency ! How so ? — you must not,' cried Lord 
 Colambre, and, for the moment, he forgot himself; but Mr. 
 Burke took this only for an expression of good-will. 
 
 ' I must, I am afraid,' continued he. ' My employer, Lord 
 Clonbrony, is displeased with me — continual calls for money 
 come upon me from England, and complaints of my slow 
 remittances.' 
 
 ' Perhaps Lord Clonbrony is in embarrassed circumstances,' 
 said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' I never speak of my employer's affairs, sir,' replied .Mr. 
 Burke ; now for the first time assuming an air of reserve. 
 
 ' I beg pardon, sir — I seem to have asked an indiscreet 
 question.' Mrs. Burke was silent. 
 
 ' Lest my reserve should give you a false impression, I will 
 add, sir,' resumed Mr. Burke, ' that I really am not acquainted 
 with the state of his lordship's affairs in general. I know only 
 what belongs to the estate under my own management. The 
 principal part of his lordship's property, the Clonbrony estate, 
 is under another agent, Mr. Garraghty.' 
 
 ' Garraghty ! ' repeated Lord Colambre ; ' what sort of a 
 person is he ? But I may take it for granted, that it cannot 
 fall to the lot of one and the same absentee to have two such 
 agents as Mr. Burke.' 
 
 Mr. Burke bowed, and seemed pleased by the compliment, 
 which he knew he deserved — but not a word did he say of 
 Mr. Garraghty ; and Lord Colambre, afraid of betraying himself 
 by some other indiscreet question, changed the conversation. 
 
 2 54
 
 . i -. 
 
 "See the reward of all your services, indeedl 
 
 What an -unreasonable, ungrateful man /"'
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 That very night the post brought a letter to Mr. Burke, 
 from Lord Clonbrony, which Mr. Burke gave to his wife as 
 soon as he had read it, saying — 
 
 ' See the reward of all my services ! ' 
 
 Mrs. Burke glanced her eye over the letter, and, being 
 extremely fond of her husband, and sensible of his deserving 
 far different treatment, burst into indignant exclamations — 
 
 ' See the reward of all your services, indeed ! — What an 
 unreasonable, ungrateful man ! — So, this is the thanks for all 
 you have done for Lord Clonbrony ! ' 
 
 ' He does not know what I have done, my dear. He never 
 has seen what I have done.' 
 
 ; More shame for him ! ' 
 
 1 He never, I suppose, looks over his accounts, or under- 
 stands them.' 
 
 ' More shame for him ! ' 
 
 ' He listens to foolish reports, or misrepresentations, perhaps. 
 He is at a distance, and cannot find out the truth.' 
 
 ' More shame for him ! ' 
 
 ' Take it quietly, my dear ; we have the comfort of a good 
 conscience. The agency may be taken from me by this lord ; 
 but the sense of having done my duty, no lord or man upon 
 earth can give or take away.' 
 
 ' Such a letter !' said Mrs. Burke, taking it up again. ' Not 
 even the civility to write with his own hand ! — only his signa- 
 ture to the scrawl — looks as if it was written by a drunken 
 man, does not it, Mr. Evans?' said she, showing the letter to 
 Lord Colambre, who immediately recognised the writing of Sir 
 Terence O'Fay. 
 
 1 It does not look like the hand of a gentleman, indeed,' 
 said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' It has Lord Clonbrony's own signature, let it be what it 
 will,' said Mr. Burke, looking closely at it ; ' Lord Clonbrony's 
 own writing the signature is, I am clear of that.' 
 
 Lord Clonbrony's son was clear of it also ; but he took care 
 not to give any opinion on that point. 
 
 'Oh, pray, read it, sir, read it,' said Mrs. Burke, pleased by 
 his tone of indignation ; ' read it, pray ; a gentleman may 
 write a bad hand, but no gentleman could write such a letter 
 as that to Mr. Burke — pray read it, sir ; you who have seen 
 something of what Mr. Burke has done for the town of 
 
 236
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Colambre, and what he has made of the tenantry and the 
 estate of Lord Clonbrony.' 
 
 Lord Colambre read, and was convinced that his father had 
 never written or read the letter, but had signed it, trusting 
 to Sir Terence O'Fay's having expressed his sentiments 
 properly. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 As I have no further occasion for your services, you will take 
 notice, that I hereby request you will forthwith hand over, on or before 
 the 1st of November next, your accounts, with the balance clue of the 
 hanging-gale (which, I understand, is more than ought to be at this 
 season) to Nicholas O'Garraghty, Esq., College Green, Dublin, who in 
 future will act as agent, and shall get, by post, immediately, a power 
 of attorney for the same, entitling him to receive and manage the 
 Colambre as well as the Clonbrony estate, for, Sir, your obedient 
 humble servant, Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Grosvenor Square.' 
 
 Though misrepresentation, caprice, or interest, might have 
 induced Lord Clonbrony to desire to change his agent, yet 
 Lord Colambre knew that his father never could have 
 announced his wishes in such a style ; and, as he returned the 
 letter to Mrs. Burke, he repeated, he was convinced that it 
 was impossible that any nobleman could have written such a 
 letter ; that it must have been written by some inferior person ; 
 and that his lordship had signed it without reading it. 
 
 ' My dear, I'm sorry you showed that letter to Mr. Evans,' 
 said Mr. Burke ; ' I don't like to expose Lord Clonbrony ; he 
 is a well-meaning gentleman, misled by ignorant or designing 
 people ; at all events, it is not for us to expose him.' 
 
 'He has exposed himself,' said Mrs. Burke; 'and the 
 world should know it.' 
 
 ' He was very kind to me when I was a young man,' said 
 Mr. Burke ; ' we must not forget that now, because we are 
 angry, my love.' 
 
 ' Why, no, my love, to be sure we should not ; but who 
 could have recollected it just at this minute but yourself? — And 
 now, sir,' turning to Lord Colambre, ' you see what kind of a 
 man this is : now is it not difficult for me to bear patiently to see 
 him ill-treated ? ' 
 
 1 Not only difficult, but impossible, I should think, madam,' 
 
 237
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 said Lord Colambre ; ' I know, even I, who am a stranger, 
 cannot help feeling for both of you, as you must see I do.' 
 
 ' And half the world, who don't know him,' continued Mrs. 
 Burke, ' when they hear that Lord Clonbrony's agency is taken 
 from him, will think, perhaps, that he is to blame.' 
 
 ' No, madam,' said Lord Colambre ; ' that you need not 
 fear ; Mr. Burke may safely trust to his character ; from what 
 I have within these two days seen and heard, I am convinced 
 that such is the respect he has deserved and acquired, that no 
 blame can touch him.' 
 
 ' Sir, I thank you,' said Mrs. Burke, the tears coming into 
 her eyes ; ' you can judge — you do him justice ; but there arc 
 so many who don't know him, and who will decide without 
 knowing any of the facts.' 
 
 ' That, my dear, happens about everything to everybody/ 
 said Mr. Burke ; ' but we must have patience ; time sets all 
 judgments right, sooner or later.' 
 
 ' But the sooner the better,' said Mrs. Burke. ' Mr. Evans, 
 I hope you will be so kind, if ever you hear this business 
 talked of ' 
 
 ' Mr. Evans lives in Wales, my dear.' 
 
 ' But he is travelling through Ireland, my dear, and he said 
 he should return to Dublin, and, you know, there he certainly 
 will hear it talked of; and I hope he will do me the favour to 
 state what he has seen and knows to be the truth.' 
 
 1 Be assured that I will do Mr. Burke justice — as far as it 
 is in my power,' said Lord Colambre, restraining himself much, 
 that he might not say more than became his assumed character. 
 He took leave of this worthy family that night, and, early the 
 next morning, departed. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' thought he, as he drove away from this well-regulated 
 and flourishing place, ' how happy I might be, settled here 
 with such a wife as — her of whom I must think no more.' 
 
 He pursued his way to Clonbrony, his father's other estate, 
 which was at a considerable distance from Colambre ; he was 
 resolved to know what kind of agent Mr. Nicholas Garraghty 
 might be, who was to supersede Mr. Burke, and by power of 
 attorney to be immediately entitled to receive and manage the 
 Colambre as well as the Clonbrony estate. 
 
 238
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Towards the evening of the second day's journey, the driver 
 of Lord Colambre's hackney chaise stopped, and jumping off 
 the wooden bar, on which he had been seated, exclaimed — 
 
 ' We're come to the bad step, now. The bad road's begin- 
 ning upon us, please your honour.' 
 
 ' Bad road ! that is very uncommon in this country. I 
 never saw such fine roads as you have in Ireland.' 
 
 ' That's true ; and God bless your honour, that's sensible of 
 that same, for it's not what all the foreign quality I drive have 
 the manners to notice. God bless your honour ! I heard you're 
 a Welshman, but whether or no, I am sure you are a gentleman, 
 anyway, Welsh or other.' 
 
 Notwithstanding the shabby greatcoat, the shrewd postillion 
 perceived, by our hero's language, that he was a gentleman. 
 After much dragging at the horses' heads, and pushing and 
 lifting, the carriage was got over what the postillion said was 
 the worst part of the bad step ; but as the road 'was not yet to 
 say good,' he continued walking beside the carriage. 
 
 ' It's only bad just hereabouts, and that by accident,' said 
 he, ' on account of there being no jantleman resident in it, nor 
 near ; but only a bit of an under-agent, a great little rogue, 
 who gets his own turn out of the roads, and of everything else 
 in life. I, Larry Brady, that am telling your honour, have a 
 good right to know, for myself, and my father, and my brother. 
 Pat Brady, the wheelwright, had once a farm under him ; but 
 was ruined, horse and foot, all along with him, and cast out, 
 and my brother forced to fly the country, and is now working 
 in some coachmaker's yard, in London ; banished he is ! — and 
 here am I, forced to be what I am — and now that I'm reduced 
 to drive a hack, the agent's a curse to me still, with these bad 
 
 239
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 roads, killing my horses and wheels — and a shame to the 
 country, which I think more of — Bad luck to him ! ' 
 
 ' I know your brother ; he lives with Mr. Mordicai, in Long 
 Acre, in London.' 
 
 ' Oh, God bless you for that ! ' 
 
 They came at this time within view of a range of about four- 
 and twenty men and boys, sitting astride on four-and-twenty 
 heaps of broken stones, on each side of the road ; they were 
 all armed with hammers, with which they began to pound with 
 great diligence and noise as soon as they saw the carriage. 
 The chaise passed between these batteries, the stones flying 
 on all sides. 
 
 'How are you, Jem? — How are you, Phil?' said Larry. 
 ' But hold your hand, can't ye, while I stop and get the stones 
 out of the horses' feet. So you're making up the rent, are you, 
 for St. Dennis ?' 
 
 ' Whoosh ! ' said one of the pounders, coming close to the 
 postillion, and pointing his thumb back towards the chaise. 
 ' Who have you in it ?' 
 
 ' Oh, you need not scruple, he's a very honest man ; — he's 
 only a man from North Wales, one Mr. Evans, an innocent 
 jantleman, that's sent over to travel up and down the country, 
 to find is there any copper mines in it.' 
 
 ' How do you know, Larry ? ' 
 
 ' Because I know very well, from one that was tould, and I 
 seen him tax the man of the King's Head, with a copper half- 
 crown, at first sight, which was only lead to look at, you'd 
 think, to them that was not skilful in copper. So lend me a 
 knife, till I cut a linch-pin out of the hedge, for this one won't 
 go far.' 
 
 Whilst Larry was making the linch-pin, all scruple being 
 removed, his question about St. Dennis and the rent was 
 answered. 
 
 'Ay, it's the rint, sure enough, we're pounding out for him ; 
 for he sent the driver round last-night-was-eight days, to warn 
 us old Nick would be down a'-Monday, to take a sweep among 
 us ; and there's only six clear days, Saturday night, before the 
 assizes, sure ; so we must see and get it finished anyway, to 
 clear the presentment again' the swearing day, for he and 
 Paddy Hart is the overseers themselves, and Paddy is to swear 
 to it.' 
 
 240
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' St. Dennis, is it ? Then you've one great comfort and 
 security — that he won't be particular about the swearing ; for 
 since ever he had his head on his shoulders, an oath never 
 stuck in St. Dennis's throat, more than in his own brother, old 
 Nick's.' 
 
 'His head upon his shoulders!' repeated Lord Colambre. 
 1 Pray, did you ever hear that St. Dennis's head was off his 
 shoulders ? ' 
 
 ' It never was, plase your honour, to my knowledge.' 
 
 ' Did you never, among your saints, hear of St. Dennis 
 carrying his head in his hand ? ' said Colambre. 
 
 ' The rael saint ! ' said the postillion, suddenly changing his 
 tone, and looking shocked. ' Oh, don't be talking that way of 
 the saints, pl^se your honour.' 
 
 ' Then of what St. Dennis were you talking just now ? — 
 Whom do you mean by St. Dennis, and whom do you call 
 old Nick?' 
 
 ' Old Nick,' answered the postillion, coming close to the 
 side of the carriage, and whispering — ' Old Nick, plase your 
 honour, is our nickname for one Nicholas Garraghty, Esq., of 
 College Green, Dublin, and St. Dennis is his brother Dennis, 
 who is old Nick's brother in all things, and would fain be a 
 saint, only he is a sinner. He lives just by here, in the 
 country, under-agent to Lord Clonbrony, as old Nick is upper- 
 agent — it's only a joke among the people, that are not fond of 
 them at all. Lord Clonbrony himself is a very good jantleman, 
 if he was not an absentee, resident in London, leaving us and 
 everything to the likes of them.' 
 
 Lord Colambre listened with all possible composure and 
 attention ; but the postillion having now made his linch-pin of 
 wood, and fixed himself, he mounted his bar, and drove on, 
 saying to Lord Colambre, as he looked at the road-makers — 
 
 ' Poor cratures / They couldn't keep their cattle out of 
 pound, or themselves out of jail, but by making this road.' 
 
 ' Is road-making, then, a very profitable business ? — Have 
 road-makers higher wages than other men in this part of the 
 country ? ' 
 
 'It is, and it is not — they have, and they have not — plase 
 your honour.' 
 
 ' I don't understand you.' 
 
 ' No, becaase you're an Englishman — that is, a Welshman — 
 241 R
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 I beg your honour's pardon. But I'll tell you how that is, and 
 I'll go slow over these broken stones, — for I can't go fast : it is 
 where there's no jantleman over these under-agents, as here, 
 they do as they plase ; and when they have set the land they 
 get rasonable from the head landlords, to poor cratures at a 
 rack-rent, that they can't live and pay the rent, they say ' 
 
 ' Who says ? ' 
 
 1 Them under-agents, that have no conscience at all. Not 
 all — but some, like Dennis, says, says he, " I'll get you a road 
 to make up the rent : " that is, plase your honour, the agent 
 gets them a presentment for so many perches of road from the 
 grand jury, at twice the price that would make the road. And 
 tenants are, by this means, as they take the road by contract, at 
 the price given by the county, able to pay all they get by the 
 job, over and above potatoes and salt, back again to the assent, 
 for the arrear on the land. Do I make your honour sensible ? x ' 
 
 ' You make me much more sensible than I ever was before,' 
 said Lord Colambre ; • but is not this cheating the county ? ' 
 
 ' Well, and suppose,' replied Larry, ' is not it all for my good, 
 and yours too, plase your honour ? ' said Larry, looking very 
 shrewdly. 
 
 ' My good ! ' said Lord Colambre, startled. ' What have I 
 to do with it ? ' 
 
 ' Haven't you to do with the roads as well as me, when 
 you're travelling upon them, plase your honour ? And sure, 
 they'd never be got made at all, if they weren't made this ways ; 
 and it's the best way in the wide world, and the finest roads we 
 have. And when the rael jantlemen's resident in the country, 
 there's no jobbing can be, because they're then the leading men 
 on the grand jury ; and these journeymen jantlemen are then 
 kept in order, and all's right.' 
 
 Lord Colambre was much surprised at Larry's knowledge of 
 the manner in which county business is managed, as well as by 
 his shrewd good sense : he did not know that this is not un- 
 common in his rank of life in Ireland. 
 
 Whilst Larry was speaking, Lord Colambre was looking 
 from side to side at the desolation of the prospect. 
 
 ' So this is Lord Clonbrony's estate, is it ? ' 
 
 ' Ay, all you see, and as far and farther than you can see. 
 My Lord Clonbrony wrote, and ordered plantations here, time 
 1 Do I make you understand ? 
 242
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 back ; and enough was paid to labourers for ditching and 
 planting. And, what next ? — Why, what did the under-agent 
 do, but let the goats in through gaps, left o' purpose, to bark the 
 trees, and then the trees was all banished. And next, the 
 cattle was let in trespassing, and winked at, till the land was all 
 poached ; and then the land was waste, and cried down ; and 
 St. Dennis wrote up to Dublin to old Nick, and he over to 
 the landlord, how none would take it, or bid anything at all for 
 it ; so then it fell to him a cheap bargain. Oh, the tricks of 
 them ! who knows 'em, if I don't ? ' 
 
 Presently, Lord Colambre's attention was roused again, by 
 seeing a man running, as if for his life, across a bog, near the 
 roadside ; he leaped over the ditch, and was upon the road in 
 an instant. He seemed startled at first, at the sight of the 
 carriage ; but, looking at the postillion, Larry nodded, and he 
 smiled and said — 
 
 ' All's safe ! ' 
 
 ' Pray, my good friend, may I ask what that is you have on 
 your shoulder ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Plase your honour, it is only a private still, which I've just 
 caught out yonder in the bog ; and I'm carrying it in with all 
 speed to the gauger, to make a discovery, that the jantleman 
 may benefit by the reward ; I expect he'll make me a com- 
 pliment.' 
 
 ' Get up behind, and I'll give you a lift,' said the postillion. 
 
 ' Thank you kindly — but better my legs ! ' said the man ; 
 and turning down a lane, off he ran again as fast as possible. 
 
 ' Expect he'll make me a compliment,' repeated Lord 
 Colambre, ' to make a discovery ! ' 
 
 'Ay, plase your honour ; for the law is,' said Larry, ' that, if 
 an unlawful still, that is, a still without license for whisky, is 
 found, half the benefit of the fine that's put upon the parish 
 goes to him that made the discovery ; that's what that man is 
 after, for he's an informer.' 
 
 ' I should not have thought, from what I see of you,' said 
 Lord Colambre, smiling, ' that you, Larry, would have offered 
 an informer a lift.' 
 
 ' Oh, plase your honour ! ' said Larry, smiling archly, 
 ' would not I give the laws a lift, when in my power ? ' 
 
 Scarcely had he uttered these words, and scarcely was the 
 informer out of sight, when across the same bog, and over the 
 
 243
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ditch, came another man, a half kind of gentleman, with a red 
 silk handkerchief about his neck, and a silver-handled whip in 
 his hand. 
 
 ' Did you see any man pass the road, friend ? ' said he to 
 the postillion. 
 
 'Oh! who would I see? or why would I tell?' replied 
 Larry, in a sulky tone. 
 
 ' Come, come, be smart ! ' said the man with the silver whip, 
 offering to put half a crown into the postillion's hand ; ' point 
 me which way he took.' 
 
 'I'll have none o' your silver! don't touch me with it:' 
 said Larry. ' But, if you'll take my advice, you'll strike across 
 back, and follow the fields, out to Killogenesawee.' 
 
 The exciseman set out again immediately, in an opposite 
 direction to that which the man who carried the still had 
 taken. Lord Colambre now perceived that the pretended 
 informer had been running off to conceal a still of his own. 
 
 ' The gauger, plase your honour,' said Larry, looking back 
 at Lord Colambre ; 'the gauger is a still-hunting P 
 
 ' And you put him on a wrong scent ! ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Sure, I told him no lie ; I only said, " If you'll take my 
 advice." And why was he such a fool as to take my advice, 
 when I wouldn't take his fee ? ' 
 
 ' So this is the way, Larry, you give a lift to the laws ! ' 
 
 ' If the laws would give a lift to me, plase your honour, 
 maybe I'd do as much by them. But it's only these revenue 
 laws I mean ; for I never, to my knowledge, broke another 
 commandment ; but it's what no honest poor man among his 
 neighbours would scruple to take — a glass of poi 'sheen.' 
 
 'A glass of what, in the name of Heaven?' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 1 Potshcen, plase your honour ; — becaase it's the little whisky 
 that's made in the private still or pot ; and s/ieen, becaase it's 
 a fond word for whatsoever we'd like, and for what we have 
 little of, and would make much of: after taking the glass of it, 
 no man could go and inform to ruin the craturesj for they all 
 shelter on that estate under favour of them that go shares, and 
 make rent of 'em — but I'd never inform again' 'em. And, 
 after all, if the truth was known, and my Lord Clonbrony 
 should be informed against, and presented, for it's his neglect 
 
 is the bottom of the nuisance ' 
 
 244
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' I find all the blame is thrown upon this poor Lotd 
 Clonbrony,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Becaase he is absent,' said Larry. ' It would not be so was 
 heprisinf. But your honour was talking to me about the laws. 
 Your honour's a stranger in this country, and astray about 
 them things. Sure, why would I mind the laws about whisky, 
 more than the quality, or the judge on the bench ? ' 
 
 ' What do you mean ? ' 
 
 ' Why ! was not \prisint in the court-house myself, when the 
 jidge was on the bench judging a still, and across the court 
 came in one with a sly jug of potshcen for the jidge himself, 
 who prefarred it, when the right thing, to claret ; and when I 
 seen that, by the laws ! a man might talk himself dumb to me 
 after again' potsheen, or in favour of the revenue, or revenue- 
 officers. And there they may go on, with their gaugers, and 
 their surveyors, and their supervisors, and their watching- 
 cfficers, and their coursing- officers, setting 'em one after 
 another, or one over the head of another, or what way they 
 will — we can baffle and laugh at 'em. Didn't I know, next 
 door to our inn, last year, ten ivatcJiing-cfficci-s set upon one 
 distiller, and he was too cunning for them ; and it will always 
 be so, while ever the people think it no sin. No, till then, 
 not all their dockets and permits signify a rush, or a turf. 
 And the gauging rod even ! who fears it ? They may spare 
 that rod, for it will never mend the child.' 
 
 How much longer Larry's dissertation on the distillery laws 
 would have continued, had not his ideas been interrupted, we 
 cannot guess ; but he saw he was coming to a town, and he 
 gathered up the reins, and plied the whip, ambitious to make a 
 figure in the eyes of its inhabitants. 
 
 This toiun consisted of one row of miserable huts, sunk 
 beneath the side of the road, the mud walls crooked in every 
 direction ; some of them opening in wide cracks, or zigzag 
 fissures, from top to bottom, as if there had just been an earth- 
 quake — all the roofs sunk in various places— thatch off, or 
 overgrown with grass — no chimneys, the smoke making its way 
 through a hole in the roof, or rising in clouds from the top of 
 the open door — dunghills before the doors, and green standing 
 puddles— squalid children, with scarcely rags to cover them, 
 gazing at the carriage. 
 
 ' Nugent's town,' said the postillion, ' once a snug place, 
 
 245
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 when my Lady Clonbrony was at home to whitewash it, and 
 the like.' 
 
 As they drove by, some men and women put their heads 
 through the smoke out of the cabins ; pale women with long, 
 black, or yellow locks — men with countenances and figures 
 bereft of hope and energy. 
 
 ' Wretched, wretched people ! ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Then it's not their fault neither,' said Larry ; ' for my own 
 uncle's one of them, and as thriving and hard a working man as 
 could be in all Ireland, he was, «/wr he was tramped under foot, 
 and his heart broke. I was at his funeral, this time last year ; 
 and for it, may the agent's own heart, if he has any, burn ' 
 
 Lord Colambre interrupted this denunciation by touching 
 Larry's shoulder, and asking some question, which, as Larry 
 did not distinctly comprehend, he pulled up the reins, and the 
 various noises of the vehicle stopped suddenly. 
 
 1 1 did not hear well, plase your honour.' 
 
 'What are those people?' pointing to a man and woman, 
 curious figures, who had come out of a cabin, the door of 
 which the woman, who came out last, locked, and carefully 
 hiding the key in the thatch, turned her back upon the man, 
 and they walked away in different directions : the woman 
 bending under a huge bundle on her back, covered by a yellow 
 petticoat turned over her shoulders ; from the top of this 
 bundle the head of an infant appeared ; a little boy, almost 
 naked, followed her with a kettle, and two girls, one of whom 
 could but just walk, held her hand and clung to her ragged 
 petticoat ; forming, altogether, a complete group of beggars. 
 The woman stopped, and looked back after the man. 
 
 The man was a Spanish-looking figure, with gray hair ; a 
 wallet hung at the end of a stick over one shoulder, a reaping- 
 hook in the other hand ; he walked off stoutly, without ever 
 casting a look behind him. 
 
 ' A kind harvest to you, John Dolan,' cried the postillion, 
 ' and success to ye, Winny, with the quality. There's a luck- 
 penny for the child to begin with,' added he, throwing the 
 child a penny. ' Your honour, they're only poor cratures going 
 up the country to beg, while the man goes over to reap the 
 harvest in England. Nor this would not be, neither, if the 
 lord was in it to give 'em employ. That man, now, was a good 
 and a willing slave in his day : I mind him working with my- 
 
 246
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 self in the shrubberies at Clonbrony Castle, when I was a boy- — ■ 
 but I'll not be detaining your honour, now the road's better.' 
 
 The postillion drove on at a good rate for some time, till he 
 came to a piece of the road freshly covered with broken stones, 
 where he was obliged again to go slowly. 
 
 They overtook a string of cars, on which were piled up 
 high, beds, tables, chairs, trunks, boxes, bandboxes. 
 
 ' How are you, Finnucan ? you've fine loading there — from 
 Dublin, are you ? ' 
 
 ' From Bray.' 
 
 ' And what news ? ' 
 
 ' Great news and bad, for old Nick, or some belonging to 
 him, thanks be to Heaven ! for myself hates him.' 
 
 'What's happened him ?' 
 
 ' His sister's husband that's failed, the great grocer that 
 was, the man that had the wife that ow'd 1 the fine house near 
 Bray, that they got that time the Parliament flitted, and that I 
 seen in her carriage flaming — well, it's all out ; they're all 
 done up.' 
 
 ' Tut ! is that all ? then they'll thrive, and set up again 
 grander than ever, I'll engage ; have not they old Nick for an 
 attorney at their back ? a good warrant ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, trust him for that ! he won't go security nor pay a 
 farthing for his s/u'ster, nor wouldn't was she his father ; I 
 heard him telling her so, which I could not have done in his 
 place at that time, and she crying as if her heart would break, 
 and I standing by in the parlour.' 
 
 ' The negcr ! 2 And did he speak that way, and you by ? ' 
 
 ' Ay did he ; and said, " Mrs. Raffarty," says he, " it's all 
 your own fault ; you're an extravagant fool, and ever was, and 
 I wash my hands of you ; " that was the word he spoke ; and 
 she answered, and said, " And mayn't I send the beds and 
 blankets," said she, " and what I can, by the cars, out of the way 
 of the creditors, to Clonbrony Castle ; and won't you let me 
 hide there from the shame, till the bustle's over?"— "You 
 may do that," says he, " for what I care ; but remember," says 
 he, "that I've the first claim to them goods ;" and that's all he 
 would grant. So they are coming down all o' Monday — them 
 are her bandboxes and all — to settle it ; and faith it was a pity 
 
 1 Owned. 
 2 Neger, quasi negro ; meo periculo, niggard. 
 
 247
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 of her ! to hear her sobbing, and to see her own brother speak 
 and look so hard ! and she a lady. 1 
 
 ' " Jf/s. Raffarty" says he, " ifs all your- o-wn fault. 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan 3- Co. 
 
 1 Sure she's not a lady born, no more than himself,' said 
 Larry ; 'but that's no excuse for him. His heart's as hard as 
 
 248
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 that stone,' said Larry ; ' and my own people knew that long 
 ago, and now his own know it ; and what right have we to 
 complain, since he's as bad to his own flesh and blood as 
 to us ? ' 
 
 With this consolation, and with a ' God speed you,' given 
 to the carman, Larry was driving off; but the carman called to 
 him, and pointed to a house, at the corner of which, on a high 
 pole, was swinging an iron sign of three horse-shoes, set in a 
 crooked frame, and at the window hung an empty bottle, 
 proclaiming whisky within. 
 
 'Well, I don't care if I do,' said Larry; 'for I've no other 
 comfort left me in life now. I beg your honour's pardon, sir, 
 for a minute,' added he, throwing the reins into the carriage to 
 Lord Colambre, as he leaped down. All remonstrance and 
 power of lungs to reclaim him vain ! He darted into the 
 whisky-house with the carman — reappeared before Lord 
 Colambre could accomplish getting out, remounted his seat, 
 and, taking the reins, ' I thank your honour,' said he ; 'and I'll 
 bring you into Clonbrony before it's pitch-dark yet, though it's 
 nightfall, and that's four good miles, but ." a spur in the head 
 is worth two in the heel."' 
 
 Larry, to demonstrate the truth of his favourite axiom, 
 drove off at such a furious rate over great stones left in the 
 middle of the road by carmen, who had been driving in the 
 gudgeons of their axle-trees to hinder them from lacing, 1 that 
 Lord Colambre thought life and limb in imminent danger ; and 
 feeling that at all events the jolting and bumping was past 
 endurance, he had recourse to Larry's shoulder, and shook and 
 pulled, and called to him to go slower, but in vain ; at last the 
 wheel struck full against a heap of stones at a turn of the road, 
 the wooden linch-pin came off, and the chaise was overset : 
 Lord Colambre was a little bruised, but glad to escape without 
 fractured bones. 
 
 ' I beg your honour's pardon,' said Larry, completely 
 sobered ; ' I'm as glad as the best pair of boots ever I see, to 
 see your honour nothing the worse for it. It was the linch- 
 pin, and them barrows of loose stones, that ought to be fined 
 anyway, if there was any justice in the country.' 
 
 ' The pole is broke ; how are we to get on ? ' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 1 Opening ; perhaps from lacker, to loosen. 
 249
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'Murder! murder! — and no smith nearer than Clonbrony ; 
 nor rope even. It's a folly to talk, we can't get to Clonbrony, 
 nor stir a step backward or forward the night.' 
 
 ' What, then, do you mean to leave me all night in the 
 middle of the road ? ' cried Lord Colambre, quite exasperated. 
 
 ' Is it me ! please your honour ? I would not use any 
 jantleman so ill, barring I could do no other,' replied the 
 postillion, coolly ; then, leaping across the ditch, or, as he 
 called it, the gripe of the ditch, he scrambled up, and while he 
 was scrambling, said, ' If your honour will lend mc your hand 
 till I pull you up the back of the ditch, the horses will stand 
 while we go. I'll find you as pretty a lodging for the night, 
 with a widow of a brother of my shister's husband that was, as 
 ever you slept in your life ; for old Nick or St. Dennis has not 
 found 'em out yet ; and your honour will be, no compare, 
 snugger than the inn at Clonbrony, which has no roof, the 
 devil a stick. But where will I get your honour's hand ; for 
 it's coming on so dark, I can't see rightly. There, you're up 
 now safe. Yonder candle's the house.' 
 
 'Go and ask whether they can give us a night's lodging.' 
 
 'Is it ask? when I see the light! — Sure they'd be proud 
 to give the traveller all the beds in the house, let alone one. 
 Take care of the potato furrows, that's all, and follow me 
 straight. I'll go on to meet the dog, who knows me and 
 might be strange to your honour.' 
 
 ' Kindly welcome,' were the first words Lord Colambre 
 heard when he approached the cottage ; and ' kindly welcome ' 
 was in the sound of the voice and in the countenance of the 
 old woman who came out, shading her rush-candle from the 
 wind, and holding it so as to light the path. When he entered 
 the cottage, he saw a cheerful fire and a neat pretty young 
 woman making it blaze : she curtsied, put her spinning-wheel 
 out of the way, set a stool by the fire for the stranger, and 
 repeating, in a very low tone of voice, ' Kindly welcome, sir,' 
 retired. 
 
 ' Put down some eggs, dear, there's plenty in the bowl,' 
 said the old woman, calling to her ; ' I'll do the bacon. Was 
 not we lucky to be up ? — The boy's gone to bed, but waken 
 him,' said she, turning to the postillion ; ' and he'll help you 
 with the chay, and put your horses in the bier for the night.' 
 
 No ; Larry chose to go on to Clonbrony with the horses, 
 250
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 that he might get the chaise mended betimes for his honour. 
 The table was set ; clean trenchers, hot potatoes, milk, eggs, 
 bacon, and ' kindly welcome to all.' 
 
 1 Set the salt, dear ; and the butter, love ; where's your 
 head, Grace, dear ? ' 
 
 ' Grace ! ' repeated Lord Colambre, looking up ; and, to 
 apologise for his involuntary exclamation, he added, ' Is Grace 
 a common name in Ireland ? ' 
 
 ' I can't say, plase your honour, but it was give her by Lady 
 Clonbrony, from a niece of her own that was her foster-sister, 
 God bless her ! and a very kind lady she was to us and to all 
 when she was living in it ; but those times are gone past,' said 
 the old woman, with a sigh. The young woman sighed too ; 
 and, sitting down by the fire, began to count the notches in a 
 little bit of stick, which she held in her hand ; and, after she 
 had counted them, sighed again. 
 
 ' But don't be sighing, Grace, now,' said the old woman ; 
 ' sighs is bad sauce for the traveller's supper ; and we won't be 
 troubling him with more,' added she, turning to Lord Colambre 
 with a smile. 
 
 ' Is your egg done to your liking ? ' 
 
 ' Perfectly, thank you.' 
 
 ' Then I wish it was a chicken for your sake, which it 
 should have been, and roast too, had we time. I wish I could 
 see you eat another egg.' 
 
 ' Xo more, thank you, my good lady ; I never ate a better 
 supper, nor received a more hospitable welcome.' 
 
 ' Oh, the welcome is all we have to offer.' 
 
 ' May I ask what that is ? ' said Lord Colambre, looking at 
 the notched stick, which the young woman held in her hand, 
 and on which her eyes were still fixed. 
 
 ' It's a tally, plase your honour. Oh, you're a foreigner ; — it's 
 the way the labourers do keep the account of the day's work 
 with the overseer, the bailiff; a notch for every day the bailiff 
 makes on his stick, and the labourer the like on his stick, to 
 tally ; and when we come to make up the account, it's by the 
 notches we go. And there's been a mistake, and is a dispute 
 here between our boy and the overseer ; and she was counting 
 the boy's tally, that's in bed, tired, for in troth he's overworked.' 
 
 ' Would you want anything more from me, mother ? ' said the 
 girl, rising and turning her head away. 
 
 251
 
 1 Ah, these red check curtains," said she, letting them down.'
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Xo, child ; get away, for your heart's full.' 
 
 She went instantly. 
 
 ' Is the boy her brother ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' No ; he's her bachelor,' said the old woman, lowering her 
 voice. 
 
 1 Her bachelor ?' 
 
 ' That is, her sweetheart : for she is not my daughter, 
 though you heard her call me mother. The boy's my son ; 
 but I am afeard they must give it up ; for they're too poor, 
 and the times is hard, and the agent's harder than the times ; 
 there's two of them, the under and the upper ; and they grind 
 the substance of one between them, and then blow one away 
 like chaff: but we'll not be talking of that to spoil your honour's 
 night's rest. The room's ready, and here's the rushlight.' 
 
 She showed him into a very small but neat room. ' What 
 a comfortable-looking bed ! ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Ah, these red check curtains,' said she, letting them down ; 
 ' these have lasted well ; they were give me by a good friend, 
 now far away, over the seas — my Lady Clonbrony ; and made 
 by the prettiest hands ever you see, her niece's, Miss Grace 
 Nugent's, and she a little child that time ; sweet love ! all 
 gone ! ' 
 
 The old woman wiped a tear from her eye, and Lord 
 Colambre did what he could to appear indifferent. She set 
 down the candle, and left the room ; Lord Colambre went to 
 bed, but he lay awake, ' revolving sweet and bitter thoughts.' 
 
 253
 
 CHAPTER XI' 
 
 The kettle was on the fire, tea-things set, everything prepared 
 for her guest by the hospitable hostess, who, thinking the 
 gentleman would take tea to his breakfast, had sent off a 
 gossoon by the first light to Clonbrony, for an ounce of tea, 
 a quarter of sugar, and a loaf of white bread ; and there was 
 on the little table good cream, milk, butter, eggs — all the 
 promise of an excellent breakfast. It was a fresh morning, 
 and there was a pleasant fire on the hearth, neatly swept up. 
 The old woman was sitting in her chimney corner, behind a 
 little skreen of whitewashed wall, built out into the room, for 
 the purpose of keeping those who sat at the fire from the blast 
 of the door. There was a loophole in this wall, to let the light 
 in, just at the height of a person's head, who was sitting near 
 the chimney. The rays of the morning sun now came through 
 it, shining across the face of the old woman, as she sat knitting; 
 Lord Colambre thought he had seldom seen a more agree- 
 able countenance, intelligent eyes, benevolent smile, a natural 
 expression of cheerfulness, subdued by age and misfortune. 
 
 'A good-morrow to you kindly, sir, and I hope you got the 
 night well ? — A fine day for us this Sunday morning ; my Grace 
 is gone to early prayers, so your honour will be content with an 
 old woman to make your breakfast. Oh, let me put in plenty, 
 or it will never be good ; and if your honour takes stir-about, 
 an old hand will engage to make that to your liking, anyway; 
 for, by great happiness, we have what will just answer for you 
 of the nicest meal the miller made my Grace a compliment of, 
 last time she went to the mill.' 
 
 Lord Colambre observed, that this miller had good taste ; 
 and his lordship paid some compliment to Grace's beauty, 
 which the old woman received with a smile, but turned off the 
 
 254
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 conversation. ' Then,' said she, looking out of the window, 
 ' is not that there a nice little garden the boy dug for her and 
 me, at his breakfast and dinner hours ? Ah ! he's a good boy, 
 and a good warrant to work ; and the good son desarves the 
 good wife, and it's he that will make the good husband ; and 
 with my goodwill he, and no other, shall get her, and with her 
 goodwill the same ; and I bid 'em keep up their heart, and 
 hope the best, for there's no use in fearing the worst till it 
 comes.' 
 
 Lord Colambre wished very much to know the worst. 
 
 ' If you would not think a stranger impertinent for asking,' 
 said he, ' and if it would not be painful to you to explain.' 
 
 ' Oh, impertinent, your honour ! it's very kind — and, sure, 
 none's a stranger to one's heart, that feels for one. And for 
 myself, I can talk of my troubles without thinking of them. 
 So, I'll tell you all — if the worst comes to the worst — all that is, 
 is, that we must quit, and give up this little snug place, and 
 house, and farm, and all, to the agent — which would be hard 
 on us, and me a widow, when my husband did all that is done 
 to the land ; and if your honour was a judge, you could see, if 
 you stepped out, there has been a deal done, and built the 
 house, and all — but it plased Heaven to take him. Well, he 
 was too good for this world, and I'm Satisfied— I'm not saying 
 a word again' that — I trust we shall meet in heaven, and be 
 happy, surely. And, meantime, here's my boy, that will make 
 me as happy as ever widow was on earth — if the agent will let 
 him. And I can't think the agent, though they that know him 
 best call him old Nick, would be so wicked to take from us 
 that which he never gave us. The good lord himself granted 
 us the lose j the life's dropped, and the years is out ; but we 
 had a promise of renewal in writing from the landlord. God 
 bless him ! if he was not away, he'd be a good gentleman, and 
 we'd be happy and safe.' 
 
 ' But if you have a promise in writing of a renewal, surely 
 you are safe, whether your landlord is absent or present ?' 
 
 ' Ah, no ! that makes a great differ, when there's no eye or 
 hand over the agent. I would not wish to speak or think ill 
 of him or any man ; but was he an angel, he could not know 
 to do the tenantry' justice, the way he is living always in Dublin, 
 and coming down to the country only the receiving days, to 
 make a sweep among us, and gather up the rents in a hurry, 
 
 255
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and he in such haste back to town — can just stay to count over 
 our money, and give the receipts. Happy for us, if we get 
 that same ! — but can't expect he should have time to see or 
 hear us, or mind our improvements, any more than listen to 
 our complaints ! Oh, there's great excuse for the gentleman, 
 if that was any comfort for us,' added she, smiling. 
 
 ' But, if he does not live amongst you himself, has not 
 he some under-agent, who lives in the country ? ' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 'He has so.' 
 
 ' And he should know your concerns : does he mind 
 them ? ' 
 
 ' He should know — he should know better ; but as to 
 minding our concerns, your honour knows,' continued she, 
 smiling again, ' every one in this world must mind their own 
 concerns ; and it would be a good world, if it was even so. 
 There's a great deal in all things, that don't appear at first 
 sight. Mr. Dennis wanted Grace for a wife for his bailiff, but 
 she would not have him ; and Mr. Dennis was very sweet to 
 her himself — but Grace is rather high with him as proper, and 
 he has a grudge agairf us ever since. Yet, indeed, there,' 
 added she, after another pause, • as you say, I think we are 
 safe ; for we have that memorandum in writing, with a pencil, 
 given under his own hand, on the back of the lase, to me, by 
 the same token when my good lord had his foot on the step of 
 the coach, going away ; and I'll never forget the smile of her 
 that got that good turn done for me, Miss Grace. And just 
 when she was going to England and London, and, young as 
 she was, to have the thought to stop and turn to the likes of 
 me ! Oh, then, if you could see her, and know her, as I did ! 
 That was the comforting angel upon earth — look and voice, 
 and heart and all ! Oh, that she was here present, this minute ! 
 — But did you scald yourself? ' said the widow to Lord Colambre. 
 ' Sure you must have scalded yourself ; for you poured the 
 kettle straight over your hand, and it boiling ! — O deear ! to 
 think of so young a gentleman's hand shaking so like my 
 own.' 
 
 Luckily, to prevent her pursuing her observations from the 
 hand to the face, which might have betrayed more than Lord 
 Colambre wished she should know, her own Grace came in at 
 this instant. 
 
 256
 
 ' " Then., I'm tired."* 
 Copyright 1094 by Macmillan &• Co.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'There it's for you, safe, mother dear — the /ase/' said 
 Grace, throwing a packet into her lap. The old woman 
 lifted up her hands to heaven, with the lease between them. 
 — ' Thanks be to Heaven ! ' Grace passed on, and sunk down 
 on the first seat she could reach. Her face flushed, and, 
 looking much fatigued, she loosened the strings of her bonnet 
 and cloak — ' Then, I'm tired ; ' but, recollecting herself, she 
 rose, and curtsied to the gentleman. 
 
 ' What tired ye, dear ? ' 
 
 ' Why, after prayers, we had to go — for the agent was not 
 at prayers, nor at home for us, when we called — we had to 
 go all the way up to the castle ; and there, by great good 
 luck, we found Mr. Nick Garraghty himself, come from Dublin, 
 and the hue in his hands ; and he sealed it up that way, and 
 handed it to me very civil. I never saw him so good — though 
 he offered me a glass of spirits, which was not manners to a 
 decent young woman, in a morning— as Brian noticed after. 
 Brian would not take any either, nor never does. We met 
 Mr. Dennis and the driver coming home; and he says, the 
 rent must be paid to-morrow, or, instead of renewing, he'll 
 seize and sell all. Mother dear, I would have dropped with 
 the walk, but for Brian's arm.' — ' It's a wonder, dear, what 
 makes you so weak, that used to be so strong.' — ' But if we 
 can sell the cow for anything at all to Mr. Dennis, since his 
 eye is set upon her, better let him have her, mother dear ; and 
 that and my yarn, which Mrs. Garraghty says she'll allow me 
 for, will make up the rent — and Brian need not talk of 
 America. But it must be in golden guineas, the agent will 
 take the rent no other way ; and you won't get a guinea for 
 less than five shillings. Well, even so, it's easy selling my 
 new gown to one that covets it, and that will give me in 
 exchange the price of the gold ; or, suppose that would not do, 
 add this cloak, — it's handsome, and I know a friend would be 
 glad to take it, and I'd part it as ready as look at it — Any- 
 thing at all, sure, rather than that he should be forced to talk 
 of emigrating ; or, oh, worse again, listing for the bounty — to 
 save us from the cant or the jail, by going to the hospital, or 
 his grave, maybe — Oh, mother ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, child ! This is what makes you weak, fretting. Don't 
 be that way. Sure here's the lose, and that's good comfort ; 
 and the soldiers will be gone out of Clonbrony to-morrow, and 
 
 2 5 8
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 then that's oft* your mind. And as to America, it's only talk — 
 I won't let him, he's dutiful ; and would sooner sell my dresser 
 and down to my bed, dear, than see you sell anything of yours, 
 love. Promise me you won't. Why didn't Brian come home 
 all the way with you, Grace ? ' 
 
 ' He would have seen me home,' said Grace, ' only that he 
 went up a piece of the mountain for some stones or ore for 
 the gentleman — for he had the manners to think of him this 
 morning, though, shame for me, I had not, when I come in, or 
 I would not have told you all this, and he himself by. See, 
 there he is, mother.' 
 
 Brian came in very hot, out of breath, with his hat full of 
 stones. ' Good morrow to your honour. I was in bed last 
 night ; and sorry they did not call me up to be of sarvice. 
 Larry was telling us, this morning, your honour's from Wales, 
 and looking for mines in Ireland, and I heard talk that there 
 was one on our mountain — maybe, you'd be citrous to see, 
 and so I brought the best I could, but I'm no judge.' 
 
 ' Nor I, neither,' thought Lord Colambre; but he thanked the 
 young man, and determined to avail himself of Larry's miscon- 
 ception or false report ; examined the stones very gravely, and 
 said, ' This promises well. Lapis caliminaris, schist, plum- 
 pudding stone, rhomboidal, crystal, blend, garrawachy,' and all 
 the strange names he could think of, jumbling them together 
 at a venture. 
 
 ' The lase ! — Is it ?' cried the young man, with joy sparkling 
 in his eyes, as his mother held up the packet. ' Then all's 
 safe ! and he's an honest man, and shame on me, that could 
 suspect he meant us wrong. Lend me the papers.' 
 
 He cracked the seals, and taking off the cover, — ' It's the 
 lase, sure enough. Shame on me !— But stay, where's the 
 memorandum ? ' 
 
 ' It's there, sure,' said his mother, ' where my lord's pencil 
 writ it. I don't read. — Grace, dear, look.' 
 
 The young man put it into her hands, and stood without 
 power to utter a syllable. 
 
 ' It's not here ! It's gone ! — no sign of it.' 
 
 ' Gracious Heaven ! that can't be,' said the old woman, 
 putting on her spectacles ; ' let me see — I remember the very 
 spot.' 
 
 ' It's taken away — it's rubbed clean out ! — Oh, wasn't I fool ? 
 
 259
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 But who could have thought he'd be the villain ! ' The young man 
 seemed neither to see nor hear ; but to be absorbed in thought. 
 
 Grace, with her eyes fixed upon him, grew as pale as death 
 — ' He'll go — he's gone.' 
 
 ' She's gone ! ' cried Lord Colambre, and the mother just 
 caught her in her arms as she was falling. 
 
 ' The chaise is ready, plane your honour,' said Larry, coming 
 into the room. ' Death ! what's here ? ' 
 
 ' Air !— she's coming to,' said the young man — ' Take a drop 
 of water, my own Grace.' 
 
 ' Young man, I promise you,' cried Lord Colambre (speak- 
 ing in the tone of a master), striking the young man's shoulder, 
 who was kneeling at Grace's feet ; but recollecting and restrain- 
 ing himself, he added, in a quiet voice — ' I promise you I 
 shall never forget the hospitality I have received in this house, 
 and I am sorry to be obliged to leave you in distress.' 
 
 These words uttered with difficulty, he hurried out of the 
 house, and into his carriage. ' Go back to them,' said he to 
 the postillion; 'go back and ask whether, if I should stay a 
 day or two longer in this country, they would let me return at 
 night and lodge with them. And here, man, stay, take this,' 
 putting money into his hands, ' for the good woman of the 
 house.' 
 
 The postillion went in, and returned. 
 
 ' She won't at all — I knew she would not.' 
 
 'Well, I am obliged to her for the night's lodging she did 
 give me ; I have no right to expect more.' 
 
 ' What is it ? — Sure she bid me tell you — " and welcome to 
 the lodging ; for," said she, " he is a kind-hearted gentleman ; " 
 but here's the money ; it's that I was telling you she would not 
 have at all.' 
 
 'Thank you. Now, my good friend Larry, drive me to 
 Clonbrony, and do not say another word, for I'm not in a 
 talking humour.' 
 
 Larry nodded, mounted, and drove to Clonbrony. Clon- 
 brony was now a melancholy scene. The houses, which had 
 been built in a better style of architecture than usual, were in 
 a ruinous condition ; the dashing was off the walls, no glass in 
 the windows, and many of the roofs without slates. For the 
 stillness of the place Lord Colambre in some measure accounted, 
 by considering that it was Sunday ; therefore, of course, all the 
 
 260
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 shops were shut up, and all the people at prayers. He alighted 
 at the inn, which completely answered Larry's representation 
 of it. Nobody to be seen but a drunken waiter, who, as well 
 as he could articulate, informed Lord Colambre that ' his 
 mistress was in her bed since Thursday- was- a- week ; the 
 hostler at the wash-woman's, and the cook at second prayers.' 
 
 Lord Colambre walked to the church, but the church gate 
 was locked and broken — a calf, two pigs, and an ass, in the 
 churchyard ; and several boys (with more of skin apparent than 
 clothes) were playing at hustlecap upon a tombstone, which, 
 upon nearer observation, he saw was the monument of his own 
 family. One of the boys came to the gate, and told Lord 
 Colambre ' there was no use in going into the church, becaase 
 there was no church there ; nor had not been this twelve- 
 month ; becaase there was no curate ; and the parson was 
 away always, since the lord was at home — that is, was not at 
 home — he nor the family.' 
 
 Lord Colambre returned to the inn, where, after waiting a 
 considerable time, he gave up the point — he could not get any 
 dinner — and in the evening he walked out again into the town. 
 He found several ale-houses, however, open, which were full of 
 people ; all of them as busy and as noisy as possible. He ob- 
 served that the interest was created by an advertisement of 
 several farms on the Clonbrony estate, to be set by Nicholas 
 Garraghty, Esq. He could not help smiling at his being witness 
 incognito to various schemes for outwitting the agents and 
 defrauding the landlord ; but, on a sudden, the scene was 
 changed ; a boy ran in, crying out, that ' St. Dennis was 
 riding down the hill into the town ; and, if you would not have 
 the license,' said the boy, ' take care of yourself. 5 
 
 ' If you wouldn't hai'e the license,' Lord Colambre per- 
 ceived, by what followed, meant, ' If you have not a license. 1 
 Brannagan immediately snatched an untasted glass of whisky 
 from a customer's lips (who cried, Murder !) gave it and the 
 bottle he held in his hand to his wife, who swallowed the 
 spirits, and ran away with the bottle and glass into some back 
 hole ; whilst the bystanders laughed, saying, ' Well thought 
 of, Peggy ! ' 
 
 ' Clear out all of you at the back door, for the love of 
 heaven, if you wouldn't be the ruin of me,' said the man of the 
 house, setting a ladder to a corner of the shop. ' Phil, hoist 
 
 261
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 me up the keg to the loft,' added he, running up the ladder ; 
 'and one of yees step up street, and give Rose M'Givney 
 notice, for she's selling too.' 
 
 The keg was hoisted up ; the ladder removed ; the shop 
 cleared of all the customers ; the shutters shut ; the door 
 barred ; the counter cleaned. ' Lift your stones, sir, if you 
 plase,' said the wife, as she rubbed the counter, 'and say 
 nothing of what you seen at all ; but that you're a stranger and 
 a traveller seeking a lodging, if you're questioned, or waiting 
 to see Mr. Dennis. There's no smell of whisky in it now, is 
 there, sir ? ' 
 
 Lord Colambre could not flatter her so far as to say this — he 
 could only hope no one would perceive it. 
 
 ' Oh, and if he would, the smell of whisky was nothing,' as 
 the wife affirmed, ' for it was everywhere in nature, and no 
 proof again' any one, good or bad.' 
 
 'Now St. Dennis may come when he will, or old Nick him- 
 self ! ' So she tied up a blue handkerchief over her head, and 
 had the toothache, 'very bad.' 
 
 Lord Colambre turned to look for the man of the house. 
 
 ' He's safe in bed,' said the wife. 
 
 'In bed! When?' 
 
 ' Whilst you turned your head, while I was tying the 
 handkerchief over my face. Within the room, look, he is 
 snug.' 
 
 And there he was in bed certainly, and his clothes on the 
 chest. 
 
 A knock, a loud knock at the door. 
 
 'St. Dennis himself! — Stay, till I unbar the. door,' said the 
 woman ; and, making a great difficulty, she let him in, groaning, 
 and saying — 
 
 ' We was all done up for the night, plase your honour, and 
 myself with the toothache, very bad — And the lodger, that's 
 going to take an egg only, before he'd go into his bed. My 
 man's in it, and asleep long ago.' 
 
 With a magisterial air, though with a look of blank 
 disappointment, Mr. Dennis Garraghty walked on, looked into 
 the room, saw the good man of the house asleep, heard him 
 snore, and then, returning, asked Lord Colambre ' who he was, 
 and what brought him there ? ' 
 
 Our hero said he was from England, and a traveller ; and 
 262
 
 . w ^*~n*J»^*«^*~> mm ** a * tMX
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 now, bolder grown as a geologist, he talked of his specimens, 
 and his hopes of finding a mine in the neighbouring 
 mountains ; then adopting, as well as he could, the servile tone 
 and abject manner in which he found Mr. Dennis was to be 
 addressed, ' he hoped he might get encouragement from the 
 gentleman at the head of the estate.' 
 
 ' To bore, is it ? — Well, don't bore me about it. I can't 
 give you any answer now, my good friend ; I'm engaged/ 
 
 Out he strutted. ' Stick to him up the town, if you have 
 a mind to get your answer,' whispered the woman. Lord 
 Colambre followed, for he wished to see the end of this 
 scene. 
 
 'Well, sir, what are you following and sticking to me, like 
 my shadow, for?' said Mr. Dennis, turning suddenly upon 
 Lord Colambre. 
 
 His lordship bowed low. 'Waiting for my answer, sir, 
 when you are at leisure. Or, may I call upon you to- 
 morrow ? ' 
 
 ' You seem to be a civil kind of fellow ; but, as lo boring, I 
 don't know — if you undertake it at your own expense. I dare 
 say there may be minerals in the ground. Well, you may 
 call at the castle to-morrow, and when my brother has done 
 with the tenantry, I'll speak to him for you, and we'll consult 
 together, and see what we think. It's too late to-night. In 
 Ireland, nobody speaks to a gentleman about business after 
 dinner — your servant, sir ; anybody can show you the way to 
 the castle in the morning.' And, pushing by his lordship, he 
 called to a man on the other side of the street, who had 
 obviously been waiting for him ; he went under a gateway 
 with this man, and gave him a bag of guineas. He then 
 called for his horse, which was brought to him by a man 
 whom Colambre had heard declaring that he would bid for 
 the land that was advertised ; whilst another, who had the 
 same intentions, most respectfully held St. Dennis's stirrup, 
 whilst he mounted without thanking either of these men. St. 
 Dennis clapped spurs to his steed, and rode away. No 
 thanks, indeed, were deserved ; for the moment he was out of 
 hearing, both cursed him after the manner of their country. 
 
 ' Bad luck go with you, then ! — And may you break your 
 neck before you get home, if it was not for the lose I'm to 
 get, and that's paid for.' 
 
 264
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Lord Colambre followed the crowd into a public-house, 
 where a new scene presented itself to his view. 
 
 The man to whom St. Dennis gave the bag of gold was 
 now selling this very gold to the tenants, who were to pay 
 their rent next day at the castle. 
 
 The agent would take nothing but gold. The same 
 guineas were bought and sold several times over, to the great 
 profit of the agent and loss of the poor tenants ; for, as the 
 rents were paid, the guineas were resold to another set, and 
 the remittances made through bankers to the landlord ; who, 
 as the poor man who explained the transaction to Lord 
 Colambre expressed it, ' gained nothing by the business, bad 
 or good, but the ill-will of the tenantry.' 
 
 The higgling for the price of the gold ; the time lost in 
 disputing about the goodness of the notes, among some poor 
 tenants, who could not read or write, and who were at the 
 mercy of the man with the bag in his hand ; the vexation, the 
 useless harassing of all who were obliged to submit ultimately 
 — Lord Colambre saw ; and all this time he endured the smell 
 of tobacco and whisky, and of the sound of various brogues, the 
 din of men wrangling, brawling, threatening, whining, drawling, 
 cajoling, cursing, and every variety of wretchedness. 
 
 ' And is this my father's town of Clonbrony ? ' thought 
 Lord Colambre. ' Is this Ireland ? — No, it is not Ireland. 
 Let me not, like most of those who forsake their native 
 country, traduce it. Let me not, even to my own mind, 
 commit the injustice of taking a speck for the whole. What 
 I have just seen is the picture only of that to which an Irish 
 estate and Irish tenantry may be degraded in the absence of 
 those whose duty and interest it is to reside in Ireland to 
 uphold justice by example and authority ; but who, neglecting 
 this duty, commit power to bad hands and bad hearts — 
 abandon their tenantry to oppression, and their property to 
 ruin.' 
 
 It was now fine moonlight, and Lord Colambre met with a 
 boy, who said he could show him a short way across the fields 
 to the widow O'Neill's cottage. 
 
 265
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 ALL were asleep at the cottage, when Lord Colambre arrived, 
 except the widow, who was sitting up, waiting for him ; and 
 who had brought her dog into the house, that he might not 
 fly at him, or bark at his return. She had a roast chicken 
 ready for her guest, and it was — but this she never told him — 
 the only chicken she had left ; all the others had been sent with 
 the duty /owl, as a present to the under-agent's lady. While 
 he was eating his supper, which he ate with the better appetite, 
 as he had had no dinner, the good woman took down from the 
 shelf a pocket-book, which she gave him : ' Is not that your 
 book?' said she. 'My boy Brian found it after you in the 
 potato furrow, where you dropped it.' 
 
 ' Thank you,' said Lord Colambre ; ' there are bank notes 
 in it, which I could not afford to lose.' 
 
 'Are there?' said she ; 'he never opened it — nor I.' 
 Then, in answer to his inquiries about Grace and the young 
 man, the widow answered, ' They are all in heart now, I thank 
 ye kindly, sir, for asking ; they'll sleep easy to-night anyway, 
 and I'm in great spirits for them and myself — for all's smooth 
 now. After we parted you, Brian saw Mr. Dennis himself 
 about the lase and memorandum, which he never denied, but 
 knew nothing about. " But, be that as it may," says he, " you're 
 improving tenants, and I'm confident my brother will consider 
 ye ; so what you'll do is, you'll give up the possession to- 
 morrow to myself, that will call for it by cock-crow, just for 
 form's sake ; and then go up to the castle with the new lase 
 ready drawn, in your hand, and if all's paid off clear of the 
 rent, and all that's due, you'll get the new lase signed ; I'll 
 promise you that upon the word and honour of a gentleman." 
 And there's no going beyond that, you know, sir. So my boy 
 
 266
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 came home as light as a feather, and as gay as a lark, to bring 
 us the good news ; only he was afraid we might not make up 
 the rent, guineas and all ; and because he could not get paid 
 for the work he done, on account of the mistake in the over- 
 seer's tally, I sold the cow to a neighbour — dog-cheap ; but 
 needs must, as they say, when old Nick drives] said the widow, 
 smiling. ' Well, still it was but paper we got for the cow ; 
 then that must be gold before the agent would take or touch 
 it — so I was laying out to sell the dresser, and had taken the 
 plates and cups, and little things off it, and my boy was 
 lifting it out with Andy the carpenter, that was agreeing for 
 it, when in comes Grace, all rosy, and out of breath — it's a 
 wonder I minded her run out, and not missed her. " Mother," 
 says she, " here's the gold for you ! don't be stirring your 
 dresser." — "And where's your gown and cloak, Grace ?" says 
 I. But I beg your pardon, sir ; maybe I'm tiring you ?' 
 
 Lord Colambre encouraged her to go on. 
 
 ' " Where's your gown and cloak, Grace ? " says I. — " Gone," 
 says she. " The cloak was too warm and heavy, and I don't 
 doubt, mother, but it was that helped to make me faint this 
 morning. And as to the gown, sure I've a very nice one here, 
 that you spun for me yourself, mother ; and that I prize above 
 all the gowns ever came out of a loom ; and that Brian said 
 become me to his fancy above any gown ever he see me wear ; 
 and what could I wish for more ?" Now I'd a mind to scold 
 her for going to sell the gown unknown'st to me, but I don't 
 know how it was, I couldn't scold her just then, so kissed her, 
 and Brian the same, and that was what no man ever did 
 before. And she had a mind to be angry with him, but could 
 not, nor ought not, says I ; "for he's as good as your husband 
 now, Grace ; and no man can part yees now," says I, putting 
 their hands together. Well, I never saw her look so pretty ; 
 nor there was not a happier boy that minute on God's earth 
 than my son, nor a happier mother than myself ; and I thanked 
 God that had given them to me ; and down they both fell on 
 their knees for my blessing, little worth as it was ; and my 
 heart's blessing they had, and I laid my hands upon them. 
 " It's the priest you must get to do this for you to-morrow," says 
 I. And Brian just held up the ring, to show me all was ready 
 on his part, but could not speak. " Then there's no America 
 any more ! " said Grace, low to me, and her heart was on her 
 
 267
 
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 lips ; but the colour came and went, and I was a feard she'd 
 have swooned again, but not for sorrow, so I carried her off. 
 Well, if she was not my own — but she is not my own born, 
 so I may say it — there never was a better girl, nor a more 
 kind-hearted, nor generous ; never thinking anything she 
 could do, or give, too much for them she loved, and anything 
 at all would do for herself ; the sweetest natured and tempered 
 both, and always was, from this high ; the bond that held all 
 together, and joy of the house.' 
 
 ' Just like her namesake,' cried Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Plase your honour ? ' 
 
 'Is not it late?' said Lord Colambre, stretching himself 
 and gaping ; ' I've walked a great way to-day.' 
 
 The old woman lighted his rushlight, showed him to his 
 red check bed, and wished him a very good night ; not with- 
 out some slight sentiment of displeasure at his gaping thus 
 at the panegyric on her darling Grace. Before she left the 
 room, however, her short-lived resentment vanished, upon his 
 saying that he hoped, with her permission, to be present at 
 the wedding of the young couple. 
 
 Early in the morning Brian went to the priest, to ask his 
 reverence when it would be convenient to marry him ; and, 
 whilst he was gone, Mr. Dennis Garraghty came to the cottage, 
 to receive the rent and possession. The rent was read)-, in 
 gold, and counted into his hand. 
 
 ' No occasion for a receipt ; for a new hisc is a receipt in 
 full for everything.' 
 
 ' Very well, sir,' said the widow ; ' I know nothing of law. 
 You know best — whatever you direct — for you are acting as a 
 friend to us now. My son got the attorney to draw the pair 
 of new lases yesterday, and here they are ready, all to 
 signing.' 
 
 Mr. Dennis said his brother must settle that part of the 
 business, and that they must carry them up to the castle ; 
 'but first give me the possession.' 
 
 Then, as he instructed her, she gave up the key of the 
 door to him, and a bit of the thatch of the house ; and he 
 raked out the fire, and said every living creature must go 
 out. ' It's only form of law,' said he. 
 
 ' And must my lodger get up and turn out, sir ? ' said she. 
 
 ' He must turn out, to be sure — not a living soul must be 
 268
 
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 left in it, or it's no legal possession properly. Who is your 
 lodger ? ' 
 
 On Lord Colambre's appearing, Mr. Dennis showed some 
 surprise, and said, ' I thought you were lodging at Brannagan's ; 
 are not you the man who spoke to me at his house about the 
 gold mines ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir, he never lodged at Brannagan's,' said the widow. 
 
 ' Yes, sir, I am the person who spoke to you about the 
 gold mines at Brannagan's ; but I did not like to lodge ' 
 
 ' Well, no matter where you liked to lodge ; you must 
 walk out of this lodging now, if you please, my good friend.' 
 
 So Mr. Dennis pushed his lordship out by the shoulders, 
 repeating, as the widow turned back and looked with some 
 surprise and alarm, ' only for form sake, only for form sake ! ' 
 then locking the door, took the key, and put it into his pocket. 
 The widow held out her hand for it : ' The form's gone through 
 now, sir, is not it ? Be plased to let us in again.' 
 
 ' When the new lease is signed, I'll give you possession 
 again ; but not till then — for that's the law. So make away 
 with you to the castle ; and mind,' added he, winking slily, 
 — ' mind you take sealing-money with you, and something to 
 buy gloves.' 
 
 ' Oh, where will I find all that ? ' said the widow. 
 
 ' I have it, mother ; don't fret,' said Grace. ' I have it — the 
 price of — what I can want. 1 So let us go off to the castle 
 without delay. Brian will meet us on the road, you know.' 
 
 They set off for Clonbrony Castle, Lord Colambre accom- 
 panying them. Brian met them on the road. ' Father Tom 
 is ready, dear mother ; bring her in, and he'll marry us. I'm 
 not my own man till she's mine. Who knows what may 
 happen ? ' 
 
 ' Who knows ? that's true,' said the widow. 
 
 ' Better go to the castle first,' said Grace. 
 
 ' And keep the priest waiting ! You can't use his reverence 
 so,' said Brian. 
 
 So she let him lead her into the priest's house, and she did 
 not make any of the awkward draggings back, or ridiculous 
 scenes of grimace sometimes exhibited on these occasions ; 
 but blushing rosy red, yet with more self-possession than 
 could have been expected from her timid nature, she gave her 
 1 What I can do without. 
 269
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 hand to the man she loved, and listened with attentive devo- 
 tion to the holy ceremony. 
 
 ' Ah ! ' thought Lord Colambre, whilst he congratulated the 
 bride, ' shall I ever be as happy as these poor people are at this 
 moment ? ' He longed to make them some little present, but 
 all he could venture at this moment was to pay the priest's dues. 
 
 The priest positively refused to take anything. ' They are 
 the best couple in my parish,' said he ; 'and I'll take nothing, 
 sir, from you, a stranger and my guest.' 
 
 ' Now, come what will, I'm a match for it. No trouble can 
 touch me,' said Brian. 
 
 ' Oh, don't be bragging,' said the widow. 
 
 ' Whatever trouble God sends, He has given one now will 
 help to bear it, and sure I may be thankful,' said Grace. 
 
 ' Such good hearts must be happy — shall be happy ! ' said 
 Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Oh, you're very kind,' said the widow, smiling ; ' and I 
 wouldn't doubt you, if you had the power. I hope, then, the 
 agent will give you encouragement about them mines, that we 
 may keep you among us.' 
 
 ' I am determined to settle among you, warm-hearted, 
 generous people ! ' cried Lord Colambre, ' whether the agent 
 gives me encouragement or not,' added he. 
 
 It was a long walk to Clonbrony Castle ; the old woman, 
 as she said herself, would not have been able for it, but for a 
 lift given to her by a friendly carman, whom they met on the 
 road with an empty car. This carman was Finnucan, who 
 dissipated Lord Colambre's fears of meeting and being re- 
 cognised by Mrs. Raffarty ; for he, in answer to the question of, 
 'Who is at the castle?' replied, 'Mrs. Raffarty will be in it 
 afore night ; but she's on the road still. There's none but old 
 Nick in it yet ; and he's more of a negcr than ever ; for think, 
 that he would not pay me a farthing for the carriage of his 
 s/n's/er's boxes and bandboxes down. If you're going to have 
 any dealings with him, God grant ye a safe deliverance ! ' 
 
 ' Amen ! ' said the widow, and her son and daughter. 
 
 Lord Colambre's attention was now engaged by the view 
 of the castle and park of Clonbrony. He had not seen it 
 since he was six years old. Some faint reminiscence from his 
 childhood made him feel or fancy that he knew the place. It 
 was a fine castle, spacious park ; but all about it, from the 
 
 270
 
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 broken piers at the great entrance, to the mossy gravel and 
 loose steps at the hall -door, had an air of desertion and 
 melancholy. Walks overgrown, shrubberies wild, plantations 
 run np into bare poles ; fine trees cut down, and lying on the 
 
 ' The priest positively refused io take anything; 
 Copyright 1894 by MacmU'an &• Co. 
 
 gravel in lots to be sold. A hill that had been covered with 
 an oak wood, in which, in his childhood, our hero used to play, 
 and which he called the black forest, was gone ; nothing to be 
 seen but the white stumps of the trees, for it had been freshly 
 cut down, to make up the last remittances. — ' And how it went, 
 when sold ! — but no matter,' said Finnucan ; ' it's all alike. — 
 It's the back way into the yard, I'll take you, I suppose.' 
 
 271
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 And such a yard ! ' But it's no matter,' repeated Lord 
 Colambre to himself; 'it's all alike.' 
 
 In the kitchen a great dinner was dressing for Mr. 
 Garraghty's friends, who were to make merry with him when 
 the business of the day was over. 
 
 ' Where's the keys of the cellar, till I get out the claret for 
 after dinner,' says one ; ' and the wine for the cook — sure 
 there's venison,' cries another. — ' Venison ! — That's the way 
 my lord's deer goes,' says a third, laughing. — ' Ay, sure ! 
 and very proper, when he's not here to eat 'em.' — ' Keep your 
 nose out of the kitchen, young man, if you ftlase,' said the 
 agent's cook, shutting the door in Lord Colambre's face. 
 ' There's the way to the office, if you've money to pay, up the 
 back stairs.' 
 
 ' No ; up the grand staircase they must — Mr. Garraghty 
 ordered,' said the footman ; ' because the office is damp for 
 him, and it's not there he'll see anybody to-day ; but in my 
 lady's dressing-room.' 
 
 So up the grand staircase they went, and through the 
 magnificent apartments, hung with pictures of great value, 
 spoiling with damp. ' Then, isn't it a pity to see them ? 
 There's my lady, and all spoiling,' said the widow. 
 
 Lord Colambre stopped before a portrait of Miss Nugent. — 
 ' Shamefully damaged ! ' cried he. ' Pass on, or let me pass, 
 if you filase,' said one of the tenants ; ' and don't be stopping 
 the doorway.' ' I have business more nor you with the 
 agent,' said the surveyor; 'where is he?' 
 
 ' In the presence-chamber? replied another; 'where should 
 the viceroy be but in the p?esence-chamber f 
 
 There was a full levee, and fine smell of greatcoats. — ' Oh ! 
 would you put your hats on the silk cushions ? ' said the 
 widow to some men in the doorway, who were throwing off 
 their greasy hats on a damask sofa. — ' Why not ? where else ? ' 
 ' If the lady was in it, you wouldn't,' said she, sighing. — 
 ' No, to be sure, I wouldn't ; great news ! would I make no 
 differ in the presence of old Nick and my lady ? ' said he, in 
 Irish. ' Have I no sense or manners, good woman, think 
 ye ? ' added he, as he shook the ink out of his pen on the 
 Wilton carpet, when he had finished signing his name to a 
 paper on his knee. ' You may wait long before you get to 
 the speech of the great man,' said another, who was working 
 
 272
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 his way through numbers. They continued pushing forward, 
 till they came within sight of Mr. Nicholas Garraghty, seated 
 in state ; and a worse countenance, or a more perfect picture 
 of an insolent, petty tyrant in office, Lord Colambre had never 
 beheld. 
 
 We forbear all further detail of this levee. ' It's all the 
 same ! ' as Lord Colambre repeated to himself, on every fresh 
 instance of roguery or oppression to which he was witness ; 
 and, having completely made up his mind on the subject, he 
 sat down quietly in the background, waiting till it should come 
 to the widow's turn to be dealt with, for he was now interested 
 only to see how she would be treated. The room gradually 
 thinned ; Mr. Dennis Garraghty came in, and sat down at the 
 table, to help his brother to count the heaps of gold. 
 
 ' Oh, Mr. Dennis, I'm glad to see you as kind as your 
 promise, meeting me here,' said the widow O'Neill, walking 
 up to him ; ' I'm sure you'll speak a good word for me ; here's 
 the loses — who will I offer this to ? ' said she, holding the 
 glove -money and sealing- money, — 'for I'm strange and 
 ashamed.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't be ashamed — there's no strangeness in bringing 
 money or taking it,' said Mr. Nicholas Garraghty, holding out 
 his hand. ' Is this the proper compliment ? ' 
 
 ' I hope so, sir ; your honour knows best.' 
 
 ' Very well,' slipping it into his private purse. ' Now, 
 what's your business ? ' 
 
 ' The loses to sign — the rent's all paid up.' 
 
 ' Leases ! Why, woman, is the possession given up ? ' 
 
 ' It was, plase your honour ; and Mr. Dennis has the key of 
 our little place in his pocket.' 
 
 ' Then I hope he'll keep it there. Your little place— it's 
 no longer yours ; I've promised it to the surveyor. You don't 
 think I'm such a fool as to renew to you at this rent.' 
 
 ' Mr. Dennis named the rent. But anything your honour 
 ptoses — anything at all that we can pay.' 
 
 ' Oh, it's out of the question — put it out of your head. No 
 rent you can offer would do, for I've promised it to the 
 surveyor.' 
 
 ' Sir, Mr. Dennis knows my lord gave us his promise in 
 writing of a renewal, on the back of the ould lose.'' 
 
 ' Produce it.' 
 
 273 T
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Here's the lose, but the promise is rubbed out.' 
 
 ' Nonsense ! coming to me with a promise that's rubbed 
 out. Who'll listen to that in a court of justice, do you think?' 
 
 ' I don't know, plase your honour ; but this I'm sure of, my 
 lord and Miss Nugent, though but a child at the time, God 
 bless her ! who was by when my lord wrote it with his pencil, 
 will remember it.' 
 
 1 Miss Nugent ! what can she know of business ? — What 
 has she to do with the management of my Lord Clonbrony's 
 estate, pray ? ' 
 
 ' Management ! — no, sir.' 
 
 * Do you wish to get Miss Nugent turned out of the house ? ' 
 ' Oh, God forbid ! — how could that be ? ' 
 
 1 Very easily ; if you set about to make her meddle and 
 witness in what my lord does not choose.' 
 
 'Well then, I'll never mention Miss Nugent's name in it at 
 all, if it was ever so with me. But be plased, sir, to write over 
 to my lord, and ask him ; I'm sure he'll remember it.' 
 
 ' Write to my lord about such a trifle — trouble him about 
 such nonsense ! ' 
 
 ' I'd be sorry to trouble him. Then take it on my word, 
 and believe me, sir ; for I would not tell a lie, nor cheat rich 
 or poor, if in my power, for the whole estate, nor the whole 
 world : for there's an eye above.' 
 
 • Cant ! nonsense ! — Take those leases off the table ; I never 
 will sign them. Walk off, ye canting hag ; it's an imposition 
 — I will never sign them.' 
 
 'You will then, sir,' cried Brian, growing red with indigna- 
 tion ; ' for the law shall make you, so it shall ; and you'd as 
 good have been civil to my mother, whatever you did — for I'll 
 stand by her while I've life ; and I know she has right, and 
 shall have law. I saw the memorandum written before ever 
 it went into your hands, sir, whatever became of it after ; and 
 will swear to it, too.' 
 
 ' Swear away, my good friend ; much your swearing will 
 avail in your own case in a court of justice,' continued old Nick. 
 
 ' And against a gentleman of my brother's established 
 character and property,' said St. Dennis. ' What's your 
 mother's character against a gentleman's like his ? ' 
 
 ' Character ! take care how you go to that, anyway, sir,' 
 cried Brian. 
 
 274
 
 ' " Let him speak," said Lord Colambre, in a tone of authority? 
 Copyright 1394 by Macmittan &• Co,
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Grace put her hand before his mouth, to stop him. 
 
 'Grace, dear, I must speak, if I die for it; sure it's for 
 my mother,' said the young man, struggling forward, while 
 his mother held him back ; ' I must speak.' 
 
 'Oh, he's ruin'd, I see it,' said Grace, putting her 1 
 before her eyes, ' and he won't mind me.' 
 
 'Go on, let him go on, pray, young woman,' said Air. 
 Garraghty, pale with anger and fear, his lips quivering ; ' 1 
 shall be happy to take down his word ;.' 
 
 ' Write them ; and may all the world read it, and welcome ! ' 
 
 His mother and wife stopped his mouth by force. 
 
 'Write you, Dennis,' said Mr. Garraghty, giving the pen 
 to his brother; for his hand shook so he could not form a 
 letter. 'Write the very words, and at the top' (pointing) 
 after warning, with malice prepense. 1 
 
 ' Write, then — mother, Grace — let me,' cried Brian, speaking 
 in a smothered voice, as their hands were over his mouth. 
 4 Write then, that, if you'd either of you a character like my 
 mother, you might defy the world ; and your word would be as 
 good as your oath.' 
 
 '■Oath! mind that, Dennis,' said Mr. Garraghty. 
 
 'Oh, sir! sir! won't you stop him?' cried Grace, turning 
 suddenly to Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Oh clear, dear, if you haven't lost your feeling for us,' cried 
 the widow. 
 
 ' Let him speak,' said Lord Colambre, in a tone of authority ; 
 Met the voice of truth be heard.' 
 
 * Truth V cried St. Dennis, and dropped the pen. 
 
 'And who the devil are you, sir?' said old Nick. 
 
 ' Lord Colambre, I protest ! ' exclaimed a female voice ; 
 and Mrs. Raffarty at this instant appeared at the open door. 
 
 ' Lord Colambre ! ' repeated all present, in different tones. 
 
 ' My lord, I beg pardon,' continued Mrs. Raffarty, advancing 
 as if her legs were tied ; ' had I known you was down here, I 
 would not have presumed. I'd better retire ; for I see you're 
 busy.' 
 
 ' You'd best ; for you're mad, sister,' said St. Dennis, 
 pushing her back ; ' and we are busy ; go to your room, 
 and keep quiet, if you can.' 
 
 ' First, madam,' said Lord Colambre, going between her 
 and the door, ' let me beg that you will consider yourself as 
 
 276
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 at home in this house, whilst any circumstances make it 
 desirable to you. The hospitality you showed me you cannot 
 think that I now forget.' 
 
 ' Oh, my lord, you're too good — how few — too kind — 
 kinder than my own,' and bursting into tears, she escaped out 
 of the room. 
 
 Lord Colambre returned to the party round the table, who 
 were in various attitudes of astonishment, and with faces of 
 fear, horror, hope, joy, doubt. 
 
 ' Distress/ continued his lordship, ' however incurred, if not 
 by vice, will always find a refuge in this house. I speak in 
 my father's name, for I know I speak his sentiments. But 
 never more shall vice,' said he, darting such a look at the 
 brother agents as they felt to the backbone — 'never more 
 shall vice, shall fraud enter here.' 
 
 He paused, and there was a momentary silence. 
 
 ' There spoke the true thing ! and the racl gentleman ; my 
 own heart's satisfied,' said Brian, folding his arms, and stand- 
 ing erect. 
 
 'Then so is mine,' said Grace, taking breath, with a deep sigh. 
 
 The widow advancing, put on her spectacles, and, looking 
 up close at Lord Colambre' s face — ' Then it's a wonder I didn't 
 know the family likeness.' 
 
 Lord Colambre now recollecting that he still wore the old 
 greatcoat, threw it off. 
 
 ' Oh, bless him ! Then now I'd know him anywhere. I'm 
 willing to die now, for we'll all be happy.' 
 
 ' My lord, since it is so — my lord, may I ask you,' said 
 Mr. Garraghty, now sufficiently recovered to be able to articu- 
 late, but scarcely to express his ideas ; ' if what your lordship 
 hinted just now ' 
 
 ' I hinted nothing, sir ; I spoke plainly.' 
 
 ' I beg pardon, my lord,' said old Nick ; — ' respecting vice, 
 was levelled at me ; because, if it was, my lord,' trying to 
 stand erect ; ' let me tell your lordship, if I could think it 
 was ' 
 
 ' If it did not hit you, sir, no matter at whom it was 
 levelled.' 
 
 ' And let me ask, my lord, if I may presume, whether, in 
 what you suggested by the word fraud, your lordship had any 
 particular meaning ? ' said St. Dennis. 
 
 277
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'A very particular meaning, sir, — feel in your pocket for 
 the key of this widow's house, and deliver it to her.' 
 
 'Oh, if that's all the meaning, with all the pleasure in life. 
 I never meant to detain it longer than till the leases were 
 signed,' said St. Dennis. 
 
 ' And I'm ready to sign the leases this minute,' said the 
 brother. 
 
 ' Do it, sir, this minute ; I have read them ; I will be 
 answerable to my father.' 
 
 ' Oh, as to that, my lord, I have power to sign for your 
 father.' He signed the leases ; they were duly witnessed by 
 Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' I deliver this as my act and deed,' said Mr. Garraghty ; 
 —'my lord,' continued he, 'you see, at the first word from you; 
 and had I known sooner the interest you took in the family, 
 there would have been no difficulty ; for I'd make it a principle 
 to oblige you, my lord.' 
 
 'Oblige me !' said Lord Colambre, with disdain. 
 
 ' But when gentlemen and noblemen travel incognito, and 
 lodge in cabins,' added St. Dennis, with a satanic smile, glan- 
 cing his eye on Grace, 'they have good reasons, no doubt.' 
 
 ' Do not judge my heart by your own, sir,' said Lord 
 Colambre, coolly; 'no two things in nature can, I trust, be 
 more different. .My purpose in travelling incognito has been 
 fully answered : I was determined to see and judge how my 
 father's estates were managed ; and I have seen, compared, 
 and judged. I have seen the difference between the Clonbrony 
 and the Colambre property ; and I shall represent what I have 
 seen to my father.' 
 
 ' As to that, my lord, if we are to come to that — but I trust 
 your lordship will suffer me to explain these matters. — Go 
 about your business, my good friends ; you have all you want ; 
 — and, my lord, after dinner, when you are cool, I. hope I shall 
 be able to make you sensible that things have been represented 
 to your lordship in a mistaken light ; and I flatter myself I 
 shall convince you I have not only always acted the part of a 
 friend to the family, but am particularly willing to conciliate 
 your lordship's goodwill,' said he, sweeping the rouleaus of 
 gold into a bag ; ' any accommodation in my power, at any 
 time.' 
 
 ' I want no accommodation, sir, — were I starving, I would 
 278
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 accept of none from you. Never can you conciliate my good- 
 will ; for you can never deserve it.' 
 
 ' If that be the case, my lord, I must conduct myself 
 accordingly ; but it's fair to warn you, before you make any 
 representation to my Lord Clonbrony, that if he should think 
 of changing his agent, there are accounts to be settled between 
 us — that may be a consideration.' 
 
 1 No, sir ; no consideration — my father never shall be the 
 slave of such a paltry consideration.' 
 
 ' Oh, very well, my lord ; you know best. If you choose to 
 make an assumpsit, I'm sure I shall not object to the security. 
 Your lordship will be of age soon, I know — I'm sure I'm satis- 
 fied — but,' added he with a malicious smile, ' I rather appre- 
 hend you don't know what you undertake ; I only premise 
 that the balance of accounts between us is not what can 
 properly be called a paltry consideration.' 
 
 ' On that point, perhaps, sir, you and I may differ.' 
 
 ' Very well, my lord, you will follow your own principles, if 
 it suits your convenience.' 
 
 'Whether it does or not, sir, I shall abide by my principles.' 
 
 ' Dennis ! the letters to the post. — When do you go to 
 England, my lord ? ' 
 
 1 Immediately, sir,' said Lord Colambre ; his lordship saw 
 new leases from his father to Mr. Dennis Garraghty, lying on 
 the table, unsigned. 
 
 'Immediately!' repeated Messrs. Nicholas and Dennis, 
 with an air of dismay. Nicholas got up, looked out of the 
 window, and whispered something to his brother, who instantly 
 left the room. 
 
 Lord Colambre saw the post-chaise at the door, which had 
 brought Mrs. Raffarty to the castle, and Larry standing beside 
 it ; his lordship instantly threw up the sash, and holding 
 between his finger and thumb a six -shilling piece, cried, 
 ' Larry, my friend, let me have the horses ! ' 
 
 ' You shall have 'em — your honour,' said Larry. Mr. Dennis 
 Garraghty appeared below, speaking in a magisterial tone. 
 ' Larry, my brother must have the horses.' 
 
 • He can't, plase your honour — they're engaged.' 
 
 ' Haifa crown ! — a crown ! — half a guinea !' said Mr. Dennis 
 Garraghty, raising his voice, as he increased his proffered bribe. 
 To each offer Larry replied, ' You can't, plase your honour, 
 
 279
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 they're engaged;' — and, looking up to the window at Lord 
 Colambre, he said, ' As soon as they have eaten their oats, 
 you shall have 'em.' 
 
 No other horses were to be had. The agent was in 
 consternation. Lord Colambre ordered that Larry should 
 have some dinner, and whilst the postillion was eating, and the 
 horses finishing their oats, his lordship wrote the following 
 letter to his father, which, to prevent all possibility of accident, 
 he determined to put, with his own hand, into the post-office 
 at Clonbrony, as he passed through the town. 
 
 My dear Father, 
 
 I hope to be with you in a few days. Lest anything should 
 detain me on the road, I write this, to make an earnest request to you, 
 that you will not sign any papers, or transact any farther business with 
 Messrs. Nicholas or Dennis Ganaghty, before you see your affectionate 
 son, Colambre. 
 
 The horses came out. Larry sent word he was ready, and 
 Lord Colambre, having first eaten a slice of his own venison, 
 ran down to the carriage, followed by the thanks and blessings 
 of the widow, her son, and daughter, who could hardly make 
 their way after him to the chaise-door, so great was the crowd 
 which had gathered on the report of his lordship's arrival. 
 
 1 Long life to your honour ! Long life to your lordship ! ' 
 echoed on all sides. 'Just come, and going, are you?' 
 
 ' Good-bye to you all, good people ! ' 
 
 ' Then good-bye is the only word we wouldn't wish to hear 
 from your honour.' 
 
 1 For the sake both of landlord and tenant, I must leave 
 you now, my good friends ; but I hope to return to you at 
 some future time.' 
 
 ' God bless you ! and speed ye ! and a safe journey to your 
 honour ! — and a happy return to us, and soon ! ' cried a multitude 
 of voices. 
 
 Lord Colambre stopped at the chaise-door, and beckoned 
 to the widow O'Neill, before whom others had pressed. An 
 opening was made for her instantly. 
 
 ' There ! that was the very way his father stood, with his 
 feet on the steps. And Miss Nugent was in W 
 
 Lord Colambre forgot what he was going to say — with some 
 difficulty recollected. 
 
 280
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' This pocket-book, 1 said he, ' which your son restored to 
 me — I intend it for your daughter — don't keep it, as your son 
 kept it for me, without opening it. Let what is within-side,' 
 added he, as he got into the carriage, ' replace the cloak and 
 gown, and let all things necessary for a bride be bought ; " for 
 the bride that has all things to borrow has surely mickle to 
 do." — Shut the door, and drive on.' 
 
 ' Blessings be wid you,' cried the widow, • and God give 
 you grace ! ' 
 
 281
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Larry drove off at full gallop, and kept on at a good rate, 
 till he got out of the great gate, and beyond the sight of the 
 crowd ; then, pulling up, he turned to Lord Colambre — ' Plase 
 your honour, I did not know nor guess ye was my lord, when 
 I let you have the horses ; did not know who you was from 
 Adam, I'll take my affidavit. 9 
 
 • There's no occasion,' said Lord Colambre ; ' I hope you 
 don't repent letting me have the horses, now you do know who 
 I am?' 
 
 ' Oh ! not at all, sure ; I'm as glad as the best horse I ever 
 crossed, that your honour is my lord— but I was only telling 
 your honour, that you might not be looking upon me as a timc- 
 sarvcr? 
 
 ' I do not look upon you as a time-sarver, Larry ; but keep 
 on, that time may serve me.' 
 
 In two words, he explained his cause of haste ; and no 
 sooner explained than understood. Larry thundered away 
 through the town of Clonbrony, bending over his horses, 
 plying the whip, and lending his very soul at every lash. 
 With much difficulty, Lord Colambre stopped him at the end 
 of the town, at the post-office. The post was gone out — gone 
 a quarter of an hour. 
 
 ' Maybe we'll overtake the mail,' said Larry ; and, as he 
 spoke, he slid down from his seat, and darted into the public- 
 house, reappearing, in a few moments, with a copper of ale and 
 a horn in his hand ; he and another man held open the horses' 
 mouths, and poured the ale through the horn down their throats. 
 
 ' Now, they'll go with spirit ! ' 
 
 And, with the hope of overtaking the mail, Larry made 
 them go ' for life or death,' as he said ; but in vain ! At the 
 
 282
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 next stage, at his own inn-door, Larry roared for fresh horses 
 till he got them, harnessed them with his own hands, holding 
 the six-shilling piece, which Lord Colambre had given him, in 
 his mouth, all the while ; for he could not take time to put it 
 into his pocket. 
 
 ' Speed ye ! I wish I was driving you all the way, then,' 
 said he. The other postillion was not yet ready. ' Then 
 your honour sees,' said he, putting his head into the carriage, 
 ' consuming of them Garraghties— old Nick and St. Dennis — 
 the best part, that is the worst part, of what I told you, proved 
 true ; and I'm glad of it, that is, I'm sorry for it— but glad your 
 honour knows it in time. So Heaven prosper you ! And may 
 all the saints {barring St. Dennis) have charge of you, and all 
 belonging to you, till we see you here again ! — And when will 
 it be?' 
 
 ' I cannot say when I shall return to you myself, but I will 
 do my best to send your landlord to you soon. In the mean- 
 time, my good fellow, keep away from the sign of the Horse-shoe 
 — a man of your sense to drink and make an idiot and a brute 
 of yourself ! ' 
 
 ' True ! — And it was only when I had lost hope I took to 
 it — but now ! Bring me the book, one of yces, out of the 
 landlady's parlour. — By the virtue of this book, and by all the 
 books that ever was shut and opened, I won't touch a drop of 
 spirits, good or bad, till I see your honour again, or some of 
 the family, this time twelvemonth — that long I'll live on hope — 
 but mind, if you disappoint me, I don't swear but I'll take to 
 the whisky, for comfort, all the rest of my days. But don't 
 be staying here, wasting your time, advising me. Bartley ! 
 take the reins, can't ye ? ' cried he, giving them to the fresh 
 postillion ; ' and keep on, for your life, for there's thousands of 
 pounds depending on the race — so, off, off, Bartley, with 
 speed of light ! ' 
 
 Bartley did his best ; and such was the excellence of the 
 roads, that, notwithstanding the rate at which our hero travelled, 
 he arrived safely in Dublin, and just in time to put his letter 
 into the post-office, and to sail in that night's packet. The 
 wind was fair when Lord Colambre w r ent on board, but before 
 they got out of the bay it changed ; they made no way all 
 night ; in the course of the next day, they had the mortification 
 to see another packet from Dublin sail past them, and when 
 
 283
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 they landed at Holyhead, were told the packet, which had left 
 
 ' Garraghty started dock.' 
 
 Ireland twelve hours after them, had been in an hour before 
 them. The passengers had taken their places in the coach, 
 
 284
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and engaged what horses could be had. Lord Colambre was 
 afraid that Mr. Garraghty was one of them ; a person exactly 
 answering his description had taken four horses, and set out 
 half an hour before in great haste for London. Luckily, just 
 as those who had taken their places in the mail were getting 
 into the coach, Lord Colambre saw among them a gentleman, 
 with whom he had been acquainted in Dublin, a barrister, who 
 was come over during the long vacation, to make a tour of 
 pleasure in England. When Lord Colambre explained the 
 reason he had for being in haste to reach London, he had the 
 good-nature to give up to him his place in the coach. Lord 
 Colambre travelled all night, and delayed not one moment, till 
 he reached his father's house in London. 
 
 ' My father at home ?' 
 
 'Yes, my lord, in his own room — the agent from Ireland 
 with him, on particular business — desired not to be interrupted 
 — but I'll go and tell him, my lord, you are come.' 
 
 Lord Colambre ran past the servant, as he spoke — made his 
 way into the room — found his father, Sir Terence O'Fay, and 
 Mr. Garraghty — leases open on the table before them ; a candle 
 lighted ; Sir Terence sealing ; Garraghty emptying a bag of 
 guineas on the table, and Lord Clonbrony actually with a pen 
 in his hand, ready to sign. 
 
 As the door opened, Garraghty started back, so that half 
 the contents of his bag rolled upon the floor. 
 
 ' Stop, my dear father, I conjure you,' cried Lord Colambre, 
 springing forward, and kneeling to his father ; at the same 
 moment snatching the pen from his hand. 
 
 'Colambre! God bless you, my dear boy ! at all events. But 
 how came you here ? — And what do you mean ? ' said his father. 
 
 ' Burn it ! ' cried Sir Terence, pinching the sealing-wax ; 
 ' for 1 burnt myself with the pleasure of the surprise.' 
 
 Garraghty, without saying a word, was picking up the 
 guineas that were scattered upon the floor. 
 
 'How fortunate I am,' cried Lord Colambre, 'to have 
 arrived just in time to tell you, my dear father, before you put 
 your signature to these papers, before you conclude this 
 bargain, all I know, all I have seen, of that man ! ' 
 
 'Nick Garraghty, honest old Nick ; do you know him, my 
 lord ? ' said Sir Terence. 
 
 1 Too well, sir.' 
 
 285
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Mr. Garraghty, what have you done to offend my son ? 
 I did not expect this,' said Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Upon my conscience, my lord, nothing to my knowledge,' 
 said Mr. Garraghty, picking up the guineas ;' 'but showed him 
 every civility, even so far as offering to accommodate him with 
 cash without security ; and where will you find the other 
 agent, in Ireland or anywhere else, will do that ? To my 
 knowledge, I never did anything, by word or deed, to offend 
 my Lord Colambre ; nor could not, for I never saw him, but 
 for ten minutes, in my days ; and then he was in such a 
 foaming passion — begging his lordship's pardon — owing to 
 the misrepresentations he met with of me, I presume, from 
 a parcel of blackguards that he went amongst, incognito, he 
 would not let me or my brother Dennis say a word to set 
 him right ; but exposed me before all the tenantry, and then 
 threw himself into a hack, and drove off here, to stop the 
 signing of these leases, I perceive. But 1 trust,' concluded he, 
 putting the replenished money-bag down with a heavy sound 
 on the table, opposite to Lord Clonbrony, — ' I trust, my Lord 
 Clonbrony will do me justice ; that's all I have to say.' 
 
 ' I comprehend the force of your last argument fully, sir,' 
 said Lord Colambre. ' May I ask how many guineas there 
 are in the bag ? I don't ask whether they are my father's or 
 not.' 
 
 ' They are to be your lordship's father's, sir, if he thinks 
 proper,' replied Garraghty. ' How many, I don't know that I 
 can justly, positively say — five hundred, suppose.' 
 
 ' And they would be my fathers if he signed those leases 
 — I understand that perfectly, and understand that my father 
 would lose three times that sum by the bargain. — My dear 
 father, you start — but it is true. Is not this the rent, sir, at 
 which you were going to let Mr. Garraghty have the land ? ' 
 placing a paper before Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 ' It is — the very thing.' 
 
 ' And here, sir, written with my own hand, are copies of 
 the proposals I saw, from responsible, respectable tenants, 
 offered and refused. — Is it so, or is it not, Mr. Garraghty? 
 — deny it, if you can.' 
 
 Mr. Garraghty grew pale ; his lips quivered ; he stammered ; 
 and, after a shocking convulsion of face, could at last articulate 
 — only — 
 
 286
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 1 That there was a great difference between tenant and 
 tenant, his lordship must be sensible, especially for so large a 
 rent.' — 'As great a difference as between agent and agent, I 
 am sensible — especially for so large a property ! ' said Lord 
 Colambre, with cool contempt. ' You find, sir, I am well 
 informed with regard to this transaction ; you will find, also, 
 that I am equally well informed with respect to every part 
 of your conduct towards my father and his tenantry. If, in 
 relating to him what I have seen and heard, I should make 
 any mistakes, you are here ; and I am glad you are, to set me 
 right, and to do yourself justice.' 
 
 ' Oh ! as to that, I should not presume to contradict anything 
 your lordship asserts from your own authority : where would 
 be the use ? I leave it all to your lordship. But, as it is 
 not particularly agreeable to stay to hear one's self abused — 
 Sir Terence ! I'll thank you to hand me my hat ! — And if 
 you'll have the goodness, my Lord Clonbrony, to look over 
 finally the accounts before morning, I'll call at your leisure to 
 settle the balance, as you find convenient ; as to the leases, 
 I'm quite indifferent.' 
 
 So saying, he took up his money-bag. 
 
 ' Well, you'll call again in the morning, Mr. Garraghty ! ' 
 said Sir Terence ; ' and, by that time, I hope we shall under- 
 stand this misunderstanding better.' 
 
 Sir Terence pulled Lord Clonbrony's sleeve : ' Don't let him 
 go with the money— it's much wanted ! ' 
 
 ' Let him go,' said Lord Colambre ; ' money can be had by 
 honourable means.' 
 
 ' Wheugh ! — He talks as if he had the Bank of England 
 at his command, as every young man does,' said Sir Terence. 
 
 Lord Colambre deigned no reply. Lord Clonbrony walked 
 undecidedly between his agent and his son — looked at Sir 
 Terence, and said nothing. 
 
 Mr. Garraghty departed ; Lord Clonbrony called after him 
 from the head of the stairs — 
 
 ' I shall be at home and at leisure in the morning.' Sir 
 Terence ran downstairs after him ; Lord Colambre waited 
 quietly for their return. 
 
 ' Fifteen hundred guineas, at a stroke of a goose-quill ! 
 — That was a neat hit, narrowly missed, of honest Nick's ! ' said 
 Lord Clonbrony. ' Too bad ! too bad, faith ! — I am much, 
 
 287
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 very much obliged to you, Colambre, for that hint ; by to- 
 morrow morning we shall have him in another tune.' 
 
 'And he nui^t double the bag, or quit,' said Sir Terence. 
 
 'Treble it, it" you please, Terry. Sure, three times five's 
 fifteen ;— fifteen hundred down, or he does not get my signature 
 to those leases for his brother, nor get the agency of the 
 Colambre estate.— Colambre, what more have you to tell of 
 him ? for, since he is making out his accounts against me, it is 
 no harm to have a per contra against him that may ease im- 
 balance.' 
 
 'Very fair! very fair I ' said Sir Terence. 'My lord, trust 
 me for remembering all the charges against him — every item ; 
 and when he can't clear himself, if I don't make him buy a 
 good character clear enough, why, say I'm a fool, and don't 
 know the value of character, good or bad ! ' 
 
 ' If you know the value of character, Sir Terence,' said Lord 
 Colambre, ' you know that it is not to be bought or sold.' 
 Then, turning from Sir Terence to his father, he gave a full 
 and true account of all he had seen in his progress through 
 his Irish estates ; and drew a faithful picture both of the bad 
 and good agent. Lord Clonbrony, who had benevolent feelings, 
 and was fond of his tenantry, was touched ; and, when his son 
 ceased speaking, repeated several times — 
 
 'Rascal! rascal! How dare he use my tenants so — the 
 O'Neills in particular! — Rascal! bad heart! — I'll have no 
 more to do with him.' But, suddenly recollecting himself, he 
 turned to Sir Terence, and added, ' That's sooner said than 
 
 done I'll tell you honestly, Colambre, your friend Mr. 
 
 Burke may be the best man in the world — but he is the 
 worst man to apply to for a remittance, or a loan, in a HURRY ! 
 He always tells me " he can't distress the tenants." ' — ' And 
 he never, at coming into the agency even,' said Sir Terence, 
 ' advanced a good round sum to the landlord, by way of 
 security for his good behaviour. Now honest Nick did that 
 much for us at coming in.' 
 
 'And at going out is he not to be repaid?' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 'That's the devil!' said Lord Clonbrony; that's the very 
 reason I can't conveniently turn him out.' 
 
 ' I will make it convenient to you, sir, if you will permit 
 me,' said Lord Colambre. 'In a few days I shall be of age, 
 
 288
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and will join with you in raising whatever sum you want, to 
 free you from this man. Allow me to look over his account ; 
 and whatever the honest balance may be, let him have it.' 
 
 ' My dear boy ! ' said Lord Clonbrony, ' you're a generous 
 fellow. Fine Irish heart ! — glad you're my son ! But there's 
 more, much more, that you don't know,' added he, looking at 
 Sir Terence, who cleared his throat ; and Lord Clonbrony, who 
 was on the point of opening all his affairs to his son, stopped 
 short. 
 
 ' Colambre,' said he, ' we will not say anything more of 
 this at present ; for nothing effectual can be done till you are 
 of age, and then we shall see all about it.' 
 
 Lord Colambre perfectly understood what his father meant, 
 and what was meant by the clearing of Sir Terence's throat. 
 Lord Clonbrony wanted his son to join him in opening the 
 estate to pay his debts ; and Sir Terence feared that, if Lord 
 Colambre were abruptly told the whole sum total of the debts, 
 he would never be persuaded to join in selling or mortgaging so 
 much of his patrimony as would be necessary for their payment. 
 Sir Terence thought that the young man, ignorant probably of 
 business, and unsuspicious of the state of his father's affairs, 
 might be brought, by proper management, to any measures 
 they desired. Lord Clonbrony wavered between the tempta- 
 tion to throw himself upon the generosity of his son, and the 
 immediate convenience of borrowing a sum of money from his 
 agent, to relieve his present embarrassments. 
 
 ' Nothing can be settled,' repeated he, ' till Colambre is of 
 age ; so it does not signify talking of it.' 
 
 ' Why so, sir ? ' said Lord Colambre. ' Though my act, in 
 law, may not be valid, till I am of age, my promise, as a man of 
 honour, is binding now ; and, I trust, would be as satisfactory 
 to my father as any legal deed whatever.' 
 
 ' Undoubtedly, my dear boy ; but ' 
 
 ' But what ? ' said Lord Colambre, following his father's eye, 
 which turned to Sir Terence O'Fay, as if asking his pennission 
 to explain. 
 
 'As my father's friend, sir, you ought, permit me to say, at 
 this moment to use your influence to prevail upon him to throw 
 aside all reserve with a son, whose warmest wish is to serve 
 him, and to see him at ease and happy.' 
 
 ' Generous, dear boy, ' cried Lord Clonbrony. ' Terence, 
 289 U
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 I can't stand it ; but how shall I bring myself to name tht 
 amount of the debts ? ' 
 
 ' At some time or other, I must know it,' said Lord 
 Colambre ; ' I cannot be better prepared at any moment than 
 the present ; never more disposed to give my assistance to 
 relieve all difficulties. Blindfold, I cannot be led to any 
 purpose, sir,' said he, looking at Sir Terence; 'the attempt 
 would be degrading and futile. Blindfolded I will not be — but, 
 with my eyes open, I will see, and go straight and prompt as 
 heart can go, to my father's interest, without a look or thought 
 to my own.' 
 
 ' By St. Patrick ! the spirit of a prince, and an Irish prince, 
 spoke there,' cried Sir Terence ; 'and if I'd fifty hearts, you'd 
 have all in your hand this minute, at your service, and warm. 
 Blindfold you ! after that, the man that would attempt it 
 desarves to be shot ; and I'd have no sincerer pleasure in life 
 dian shooting him this moment, was he my best friend. But 
 it's not Clonbrony, or your father, my lord, would act that way, 
 no more than Sir Terence O'Fay — there's the schedule of the 
 debts,' drawing a paper from his bosom ; ' and I'll swear to the 
 lot, and not a man on earth could do that but myself.' 
 
 Lord Colambre opened the paper. His father turned aside, 
 covering his face with both his hands. 
 
 ' Tut, man,' said Sir Terence ; ' I know him now better 
 than you ; he will stand, you'll find, the shock of that regiment 
 of figures— he is steel to the backbone, and proof spirit.' 
 
 'I thank you, my dear father,' said Lord Colambre, 'for 
 trusting me thus at once with a view of the truth. At first 
 sight it is, I acknowledge, worse than I expected ; but I make 
 no doubt that, when you allow me to examine Mr. Garraghty's 
 accounts and Mr. Mordicai's claims, we shall be able to reduce 
 this alarming total considerably, my dear father. You think 
 we learn nothing but Latin and Greek at Cambridge ; but you 
 are mistaken.' 
 
 ' The devil a pound, nor a penny,' said Sir Terence ; ' for you 
 have to deal with a Jew and old Nick ; and I'm not a match 
 for them. I don't know who is ; and I have no hope of getting 
 any abatement. I've looked over the accounts till I'm sick.' 
 
 ' Nevertheless, you will observe that fifteen hundred guineas 
 have been saved to my father, at one stroke, by his not signing 
 those leases. 5 
 
 290
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 1 Saved to you, my lord ; not your father, if you plase,' said 
 Sir Terence. ' For now I'm upon the square with you, I must 
 be straight as an arrow, and deal with you as the son and friend 
 of my friend ; before, I was considering you only as the son 
 and heir, which is quite another thing, you know ; accordingly, 
 acting for your father here, I was making the best bargain 
 against you I could ; honestly, now, I tell you. I knew the 
 value of the lands well enough ; we were as sharp as Garraghty, 
 and he knew it ; we were to have had the difference from him, 
 partly in cash and partly in balance of accounts — you compre- 
 hend — and you only would have been the loser, and never would 
 have known it, maybe, till after we all were dead and buried ; 
 and then you might have set aside Garraghty's lease easy, and 
 no harm done to any but a rogue that desan>ed it ; and, in the 
 meantime, an accommodation to my honest friend, my lord, 
 your father, here. But, as fate would have it, you upset all by 
 your progress incognito through them estates. Well, it's best 
 as it is, and I am better pleased to be as we are, trusting all to 
 a generous son's own heart. Now put the poor father out of 
 pain, and tell us what you'll do, my dear.'" 
 
 ' In one word, then,' said Lord Colambre, ' I will, upon two 
 conditions, either join my father in levying fines to enable him 
 to sell or mortgage whatever portion of his estate is necessary 
 for the payment of these debts ; or I will, in whatever other 
 mode he can point out, as more agreeable or more advantageous 
 to him, join in giving security to his creditors.' 
 
 ' Dear, noble fellow ! ' cried Sir Terence ; ' none but an 
 Irishman could do it.' 
 
 Lord Clonbrony, melted to tears, could not articulate, but 
 held his arms open to embrace his son. 
 
 1 But you have not heard my conditions yet,' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 ' Oh, confound the conditions ! ' cried Sir Terence. 
 
 ' What conditions could he ask that I could refuse at this 
 minute ? ' said Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Nor I — was it my heart's blood, and were I to be hanged 
 for it,' cried Sir Terence. ' And what are the conditions ? ' 
 
 'That Mr. Garraghty shall be dismissed from the agency.' 
 
 ' And welcome, and glad to get rid of him — the rogue, the 
 tyrant,' said Lord Clonbrony ; 'and, to be beforehand with you 
 in your next wish, put Mr. Burke into his place.' 
 
 291
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'I'll write the letter for you to sign, my lord, this minute,' 
 cried Terry, ' with all the pleasure in life. No ; it's my Lord 
 Colambre should do that in all justice.' 
 
 ' But what's your next condition ? I hope it's no worse,' said 
 Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 'That you and my mother should cease to be absentees*' 
 
 1 Oh murder ! ' said Sir Terence ; ' maybe that's not so 
 easy ; for there are two words to that bargain.' 
 
 Lord Clonbrony declared that, for his own part, he was 
 ready to return to Ireland next morning, and to promise to 
 reside on his estate all the rest of his days ; that there was 
 nothing he desired more, provided Lady Clonbrony would 
 consent to it ; but that he could not promise for her ; that she 
 was as obstinate as a mule on that point ; that he had often 
 tried, but that there was no moving her ; and that, in short, he 
 could not promise on her part. 
 
 But it was on this condition, Lord Colambre said, he must 
 insist. Without this condition was granted, he would not 
 engage to do anything. 
 
 ' Well, we must only see how it will be when she comes to 
 town ; she will come up from Buxton the day you're of age to 
 sign some papers,' said Lord Clonbrony; 'but,' added he, with 
 a very dejected look and voice, ' if all's to depend on my Lady 
 Clonbrony' s consenting to return to Ireland, I'm as far from all 
 hope of being at ease as ever.' 
 
 ' Upon my conscience, we're all at sea again,' said Sir 
 Terence. 
 
 Lord Colambre was silent : but in his silence there was 
 such an air of firmness, that both Lord Clonbrony and Sir 
 Terence were - convinced entreaties would on this point be 
 fruitless — Lord Clonbrony sighed deeply. 
 
 ' But when it's ruin or safety, and her husband and all 
 belonging to her at stake, the woman can't persist in being a 
 mule,' said Sir Terence. 
 
 ' Of whom are you talking ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Of whom ? Oh, I beg your lordship's pardon — I thought I 
 was talking to my lord ; but, in other words, as you are her son, 
 I'm persuaded her ladyship, your mother, will prove herself a 
 reasonable woman — when she sees she can't help it. So, my 
 Lord Clonbrony, cheer up ; a great deal may be done by the 
 fear of Mordicai, and an execution, especially now the prior 
 
 292
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 creditor. Since there's no reserve between you and I now, 
 my Lord Colambre,' said Sir Terence, ' I must tell you all, 
 and how we shambled on those months while you were in 
 Ireland. First, Mordicai went to law, to prove I was in a 
 conspiracy with your father, pretending to be prior creditor, to 
 keep him off and out of his own ; which, after a world of 
 swearing and law — law always takes time to do justice, that's 
 one comfort — the villain proved at last to be true enough, and 
 so cast us ; and I was forced to be paid off last week. So 
 there's no prior creditor, or any shield of pretence that way. 
 Then his execution was coming down upon us, and nothing to 
 stay it till I thought of a monthly annuity to Mordicai, in the 
 shape of a wager. So, the morning after he cast us, I went to 
 him: "Mr. Mordicai," says I, "you must be plased to see a 
 man you've beaten so handsomely ; and though I'm sore, both 
 for myself and my friend, yet you see I can laugh still ; though 
 an execution is no laughing matter, and I'm sinsible you've 
 one in petto in your sleeve for my friend Lord Clonbrony. 
 But I'll lay you a wager of a hundred guineas in paper that a 
 marriage of his son with a certain heiress, before next Lady- 
 day, will set all to rights, and pay you with a compliment too.' 
 
 ' Good heavens, Sir Terence ! surely you said no such 
 thing ? ' 
 
 ' I did — but what was it but a wager ? which is nothing but 
 a dream ; and, when lost, as I am as sinsible as you are that it 
 must be, why, what is it, after all, but a bonus, in a gentleman- 
 like form, to Mordicai ? which, I grant you, is more than he 
 deserves, for staying the execution till you be of age ; and even 
 for my Lady Clonbrony's sake, though I know she hates me 
 like poison, rather than have her disturbed by an execution, I'd 
 pay the hundred guineas this minute out of my own pocket, if 
 I had 'em in it.' 
 
 A thundering knock at the door was heard at this moment. 
 
 ' Never heed it ; let 'em thunder,' said Sir Terence ; 
 ' whoever it is, they won't get in ; for my lord bid them let 
 none in for their life. It's necessary for us to be very particular 
 about the street-door now ; and I advise a double chain for it, 
 and to have the footmen well tutored to look before they run 
 to a double rap ; for a double rap might be a double trap.' 
 
 ' My lady and Miss Nugent, my lord.' said a footman, 
 throwing open the door. 
 
 293
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 'My mother! Miss Nugent!' cried Lord Colambre, spring- 
 ing eagerly forward. 
 
 'Colambre! here I J said his mother ; 'but it's all too 
 late now, and no matter where you are.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony coldly suffered her son to embrace her ; 
 and he, without considering the coldness of her manner, 
 scarcely hearing, and not at all understanding the words 
 she said, fixed his eyes on his cousin, who, with a countenance 
 all radiant with affectionate joy, held out her hand to him. 
 
 ' Dear cousin Colambre, what an unexpected pleasure ! ' 
 
 He seized the hand ; but, as he was going to kiss it, the 
 recollection of St. Omar crossed his mind ; he checked 
 himself, and said something about joy and pleasure, but his 
 countenance expressed neither; and Miss Nugent, much sur- 
 prised by the coldness of his manner, withdrew her hand, 
 and, turning away, left the room. 
 
 1 Grace ! darling ! ' called Lord Clonbrony, ' whither so 
 fast, before you've given me a word or a kiss ? ' 
 
 She came back, and hastily kissed her uncle, who folded 
 her in his arms. ' Why must I let you go ? And what makes 
 you so pale, my dear child ? ' 
 
 ' I am a little — a little tired. I will be with you again soon.' 
 
 Her uncle let her go. 
 
 ' Your famous Buxton baths don't seem to have agreed 
 with her, by all I can see,' said Lord Clonbrony. 
 
 ' My lord, the Buxton baths are no way to blame ; but I 
 know what is to blame, and who is to blame,' said Lady 
 Clonbrony, in a tone of displeasure, fixing her eyes upon 
 her son. ' Yes, you may well look confounded, Colambre ; 
 but it is too late now — you should have known your own 
 mind in time. 1 see you have heard it, then — but I am sure 
 I don't know how ; for it was only decided the day I left 
 Buxton. The news could hardly travel faster than I did. 
 Pray, how did you hear it ?' 
 
 ' Hear what, ma'am ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Why, that Miss Broadhurst is going to be married.' 
 
 ' Oh, is that all, ma'am ! ' said our hero, much relieved. 
 
 ' All ! Now, Lord Colambre, you reelly are too much 
 for my patience. But I flatter myself you will feel, when 
 I tell you, that it is your friend, Sir Arthur Berryl, as I 
 always prophesied, who has carried off the prize from you.' 
 
 294
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' But for the fear of displeasing my dear mother, I should 
 say, that I do feel sincere pleasure in this marriage — I always 
 wished it : my friend, Sir Arthur, from the first moment, 
 trusted me with the secret of his attachment ; he knew 
 that he had my warm good wishes for his success ; he knew 
 that I thought most highly of the young lady ; but that I 
 never thought of her as a wife for myself.' 
 
 1 And why did not you ? that is the very thing I complain 
 of,' said Lady Clonbrony. ' But it is all over now. You 
 may set your heart at ease, for they are to be married on 
 Thursday ; and poor Mrs. Broadhurst is ready to break 
 her heart, for she was set upon a coronet for her daughter ; 
 and you, ungrateful as you are, you don't know how she 
 wished you to be the happy man. But only conceive, after 
 all that had passed, Miss Broadhurst had the assurance to 
 expect I would let my niece be her bridesmaid. Oh, I flatly 
 refused ; that is, I told Grace it could not be ; and, that there 
 might be no affront to Mrs. Broadhurst, who did not deserve 
 it, I pretended Grace had never mentioned it ; but ordered 
 my carriage, and left Buxton directly. Grace was hurt, for 
 she is very warm in her friendships. I am sorry to hurt 
 Grace. But reelly I could not let her be bridesmaid ; — and 
 that, if you must know, is what vexed her, and made the 
 tears come in her eyes, I suppose — and I'm sorry for it ; 
 but one must keep up one's dignity a little. After all, Miss 
 Broadhurst was only a citizen — and reelly now, a very odd 
 girl ; never did anything like anybody else ; settled her 
 marriage at last in the oddest way. Grace, can you tell the 
 particulars ? I own, I am tired of the subject, and tired of 
 my journey. My lord, I shall take leave to dine in my 
 own room to-day,' continued her ladyship, as she quitted 
 the room. 
 
 ' I hope her ladyship did not notice me,' said Sir Terence 
 O'Fay, coming from behind a window-curtain. 
 
 ' Why, Terry, what did you hide for ? ' said Lord Clon- 
 brony. 
 
 ' Hide ! I didn't hide, nor wouldn't from any man living, 
 
 let alone any woman. 1 Hide ! no ; but I just stood looking 
 
 out of the window, behind this curtain, that my poor Lady 
 
 Clonbrony might not be discomfited and shocked by the 
 
 1 Leaving any woman out of the question. 
 
 295
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 sight of one whom she can't abide, the very minute she 
 come home. Oh, I've some consideration — it would have put 
 her out of humour worse with both of you too ; and for 
 that there's no need, as far as I see. So I'll take myself 
 off to my coffee-house to dine, and maybe you may get 
 her down and into spirits again. But, for your lives, don't 
 touch upon Ireland the night, nor till she has fairly got the 
 better of the marriage. Apropos — there's my wager to 
 Mordicai gone at a slap. It's I that ought to be scolding 
 you, my Lord Colambre ; but I trust you will do as well 
 yet, not in point of purse, maybe. But I'm not one of 
 those that think that money's everything — though, I grant 
 you, in this world, there's nothing to be had without it — 
 love excepted — which most people don't believe in — but not 
 I — in particular cases. So I leave you, with my blessing, and 
 I've a notion, at this time, that is better than my company — 
 your most devoted ' 
 
 The good-natured Sir Terence would not be persuaded by 
 Lord Clonbrony to stay. Nodding at Lord Colambre as 
 he went out of the room, he said, ' I've an eye, in going, to 
 your heart's ease too. When I played myself, I never 
 liked standers-by.' 
 
 Sir Terence was not deficient in penetration, but he never 
 could help boasting of his discoveries. 
 
 Lord Colambre was grateful for his judicious departure ; 
 and followed his equally judicious advice, not to touch upon 
 Ireland this night. 
 
 Lady Clonbrony was full of Buxton, and he was glad to 
 be relieved from the necessity of talking ; and he indulged 
 himself in considering what might be passing in Miss Nugent's 
 mind. She now appeared in remarkably good spirits ; for 
 her aunt had given her a hint that she thought her out of 
 humour because she had not been permitted to be Miss 
 Broadhurst's bridesmaid, and she was determined to exert 
 herself to dispel this notion. This it was now easy for her 
 to do, because she had, by this time, in her own imagination, 
 found a plausible excuse for that coldness in Lord Colambre's 
 reception of her, by which she had at first been hurt ; she 
 had settled it, that he had taken it for granted she was of 
 his mother's sentiments respecting Miss Broadhurst's marriage, 
 and that this idea, and perhaps the apprehension of her 
 
 296
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 reproaches, had caused his embarrassment — she knew that 
 she could easily set this misunderstanding right. Accordingly, 
 when Lady Clonbrony had talked herself to sleep about 
 Buxton, and was taking her afternoon's nap, as it was her 
 custom to do when she had neither cards nor company 
 to keep her awake, Miss Nugent began to explain her own 
 sentiments, and to give Lord Colambre, as her aunt had 
 desired, an account of the manner in which Miss Broadhurst's 
 marriage had been settled. 
 
 ' In the first place,' said she, ' let me assure you that I 
 rejoice in this marriage ; I think your friend, Sir Arthur 
 Berryl, is every way deserving of my friend, Miss Broadhurst ; 
 and this from me,' said she, smiling, ' is no slight eulogium. 
 I have marked the rise and progress of their attachment ; 
 and it has been founded on the perception of such excellent 
 qualities on each side, that I have no fear for its permanence. 
 Sir Arthur Berryl's honourable conduct in paying his father's 
 debts, and his generosity to his mother and sisters, whose 
 fortunes were left entirely dependent upon him, first pleased 
 my friend. It was like what she would have done herself, 
 and like — in short, it is what few young men, as she said, of 
 the present day would do. Then his refraining from all 
 personal expenses, his going without equipage and without 
 horses, that he might do what he felt to be right, whilst 
 it exposed him continually to the ridicule of fashionable young 
 men, or to the charge of avarice, made a very different 
 impression on Miss Broadhurst's mind ; her esteem and 
 admiration were excited by these proofs of strength of 
 character, and of just and good principles.' 
 
 ' If you go on, you will make me envious and jealous of 
 my friend,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' You jealous ! — Oh, it is too late now — besides, you cannot 
 be jealous, for you never loved.' 
 
 'I never loved Miss Broadhurst, I acknowledge.' 
 
 ' There was the advantage Sir Arthur Berryl had over 
 you — he loved, and my friend saw it.' 
 
 ' She was clear-sighted,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 'She was clear-sighted,' repeated Miss Nugent; 'but if 
 you mean that she was vain, and apt to fancy people in 
 love with her, I can assure you that you are mistaken. 
 Never was woman, young or old, more clear-sighted to the 
 
 297
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 views of those by whom she was addressed. No flatter)', 
 no fashion, could blind her judgment.' 
 
 1 She knew how to choose a friend well, I am sure,' said 
 Lord Colambre. 
 
 • And a friend for life too, I am sure you will allow — and 
 she had such numbers, such strange variety of admirers, as 
 might have puzzled the choice and turned the brain of any 
 inferior person. Such a succession of lovers as she has had 
 this summer, ever since you went to Ireland — they appeared 
 and vanished like figures in a magic-lantern. She had three 
 noble admirers — rank in three different forms offered them- 
 selves. First came in, hobbling, rank and gout ; next, rank 
 and gaming ; then rank, very high rank, over head and ears 
 in debt. All of these were rejected ; and, as they moved off, 
 I thought Mrs. Broadhurst would have broken her heart. 
 Next came fashion, with his head, heart, and soul in his 
 cravat — he quickly made his bow, or rather his nod, and 
 walked off, taking a pinch of snuff. Then came a man of 
 gallantry, but,' whispered Miss Nugent, 'there was a mistress 
 in the wood ; and my friend could have nothing to do with 
 that gentleman.' 
 
 1 Now, if she liked the man,' interrupted Lord Clonbrony, 
 ' and I suppose she did, for all women, but yourself, Grace, 
 like men of gallantry, Miss Broadhurst was a goose for 
 refusing him on account of the mistress ; because she might 
 have been bought up, and settled with a few thousand 
 pounds.' 
 
 ' Be that as it may,' said Miss Nugent ; 'my friend did not 
 like, and would not accept, of the man of gallantry ; so 
 he retired and comforted himself with a copy of verses. 
 Then came a man of wit — but still it was wit without worth ; 
 and presently came " worth without wit." She preferred " wit 
 and worth united," which she fortunately at last found, Lord 
 Colambre, in your friend, Sir Arthur Berryl.' 
 
 ' Grace, my girl ! ' said her uncle, ' I'm glad to see you've 
 got up your spirits again, though you were not to be brides- 
 maid. Well, I hope you'll be bride soon — I'm sure you ought 
 to be — and you should think of rewarding that poor Mr. 
 Salisbury, who plagues me to death, whenever he can catch 
 hold of me, about you. He must have our definitive at last, 
 you know, Grace.' 
 
 298
 
 
 • First came in, hobbling, rank and gout ; next, rank and gaming.' 
 Copyriglit 1894 by Macmillan &■ Co.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 A silence ensued, which neither Miss Nugent nor Lord 
 Colambre seemed willing, or able, to break. 
 
 ' Very good company, faith, you three ! — One of ye asleep, 
 and the other two saying nothing, to keep one awake. 
 Colambre, have you no Dublin news ? Grace, have you no 
 Buxton scandal ? What was it Lady Clonbrony told us you'd 
 tell us, about the oddness of Miss Broadhurst's settling her 
 marriage ? Tell me that, for I love to hear odd things.' 
 
 ' Perhaps you will not think it odd,' said she. ' One 
 evening — but I should begin by telling you that three of 
 her admirers, beside Sir Arthur Berryl, had followed her to 
 Buxton, and had been paying their court to her all the time 
 we were there ; and at last grew impatient for her decision.' 
 
 ' Ay, for her definitive ! ' said Lord Clonbrony. Miss 
 Nugent was put out again, but resumed — 
 
 ' So one evening, just before the dancing began, the gentle- 
 men were all standing round Miss Broadhurst ; one of them 
 said, " I wish Miss Broadhurst would decide — that whoever she 
 dances with to-night should be her partner for life ; what a 
 happy man he would be ! " 
 
 ' " But how can I decide ?" said Miss Broadhurst. 
 
 ' " I wish I had a friend to plead for me ! " said one of the 
 suitors, looking at me. 
 
 ' " Have you no friend of your own ? ; ' said Miss Broadhurst. 
 
 ' " Plenty of friends," said the gentleman. 
 
 ' " Plenty ! — then you must be a very happy man," replied Miss 
 Broadhurst. " Come," said she, laughing, " I will dance with 
 that man who can convince me — that he has, near relations 
 excepted, one true friend in the world ! That man who 
 has made the best friend, I dare say, will make the best 
 husband ! " 
 
 ' At that moment,' continued Miss Nugent, ' I was certain 
 who would be her choice. The gentlemen all declared at first 
 that they had abundance of excellent friends — the best friends 
 in the world ! but when Miss Broadhurst cross-examined 
 them, as to what their friends had done for them, or what they 
 were willing to do, modern friendship dwindled into a ridicu- 
 lously small compass. I cannot give you the particulars of 
 the cross-examination, though it was conducted with great 
 spirit and humour by Miss Broadhurst ; but I can tell you 
 the result — that Sir Arthur Berryl, by incontrovertible facts,
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and eloquence warm from the heart, convinced everybody 
 present that he had the best friend in the world ; and Miss 
 Broadhurst, as he finished speaking, gave him her hand, and 
 
 he led her off in triumph So you see, Lord Colambre, you 
 
 were at last the cause of my friend's marriage ! ' 
 
 She turned to Lord Colambre as she spoke these words, 
 with such an affectionate smile, and such an expression of 
 open, inmost tenderness in her whole countenance, that our 
 hero could hardly resist the impulse of his passion — could 
 hardly restrain himself from falling at her feet that instant, and 
 declaring his love. ' But St. Omar ! St. Omar ! — It must 
 not be ! ' 
 
 ' I must be gone ! ' said Lord Clonbrony, pulling out his 
 watch. ' It is time to go to my club ; and poor Terry will 
 wonder what has become of me.' 
 
 Lord Colambre instantly offered to accompany his father ; 
 much to Lord Clonbrony's, and more to Miss Nugent's 
 surprise. 
 
 ' What ! ' said she to herself, ' after so long an absence, 
 leave me ! — Leave his mother, with whom he always used to 
 stay — on purpose to avoid me ! What can I have done to 
 displease him ? It is clear it was not about Miss Broadhurst's 
 marriage he was offended ; for he looked pleased, and like 
 himself, whilst I was talking of that ; but the moment after- 
 wards, what a constrained, unintelligible expression of counte- 
 nance — and leaves me to go to a club which he detests ! ' 
 
 As the gentlemen shut the door on leaving the room, Lady 
 Clonbrony wakened, and, starting up, exclaimed — 
 
 'What's the matter? Are they gone? Is Colambre 
 gone ? ' 
 
 'Yes, ma'am, with my uncle.' 
 
 ' Very odd ! very odd of him to go and leave me ! he 
 always used to stay with me — what did he say about me ? ' 
 
 ' Nothing, ma'am.' 
 
 ' Well, then, I have nothing to say about him, or about 
 anything, indeed, for I'm excessively tired and stupid — alone 
 in Lon'on's as bad as anywhere else. Ring the bell, and we'll 
 go to bed directly — if you have no objection, Grace.' 
 
 Grace made no objection ; Lady Clonbrony went to bed 
 and to sleep in ten minutes. Miss Nugent went to bed ; but 
 she lay awake, considering what could be the cause of her 
 
 301
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 cousin Colambre's hard unkindness, and of ' his altered eye.' 
 She was openness itself; and she determined that, the first 
 moment she could speak to him alone, she would at once ask 
 for an explanation. With this resolution, she rose in the 
 morning, and went down to the breakfast-room, in hopes of 
 meeting him, as it had formerly been his custom to be early : 
 and she expected to find him reading in his usual place. 
 
 302
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 No — Lord Colambre was not in his accustomed place, read- 
 ing in the breakfast-room : nor did he make his appearance 
 till both his father and mother had been some time at 
 breakfast. 
 
 ' Good morning to you, my Lord Colambre,' said his 
 mother, in a reproachful tone, the moment he entered ; ' I am 
 much obliged to you for your company last night.' 
 
 1 Good morning to you, Colambre,' said his father, in a 
 more jocose tone of reproach ; ' I am obliged to you for your 
 good company last night.' 
 
 ' Good morning to you, Lord Colambre,' said Miss Nugent ; 
 and though she endeavoured to throw all reproach from her 
 looks, and to let none be heard in her voice, yet there was a 
 slight tremulous motion in that voice which struck our hero 
 to the heart. 
 
 ' I thank you, ma'am, for missing me,' said he, addressing 
 himself to his mother ; ' I stayed away but half an hour ; I 
 accompanied my father to St. James's Street, and when I 
 returned I found that every one had retired to rest.' 
 
 ' Oh, was that the case ? ' said Lady Clonbrony ; ' I own 
 I thought it very unlike you to leave me in that sort of way.' 
 
 ' And, lest you should be jealous of that half-hour when he 
 was accompanying me,' said Lord Clonbrony, ' I must remark, 
 that, though I had his body with me, I had none of his mind ; 
 that he left at home with you ladies, or with some fair one 
 across the water, for the deuce of two words did he bestow 
 upon me, with all his pretence of accompanying me.' 
 
 ' Lord Colambre seems to have a fair chance of a pleasant 
 breakfast,' said Miss Nugent, smiling ; ' reproaches on all 
 sides.' 
 
 303
 
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 ' I have heard none on your side, Grace,' said Lord 
 Clonbrony ; ' and that's the reason, I suppose, he wisely 
 takes his seat beside you. But, come, we will not badger you 
 any more, my dear boy. We have given him as fine a 
 complexion amongst us as if he had been out hunting these 
 three hours ; have not we, Grace ? ' 
 
 ' When Colambre has been a season or two more in 
 Lon'on, he'll not be so easily put out of countenance,' said 
 Lady Clonbrony ; ' you don't see young men of fashion here 
 blushing about nothing.' 
 
 ' No, nor about anything, my dear,' said Lord Clonbrony ; 
 ' but that's no proof they do nothing they ought to blush for.' 
 
 ' What they do, there's no occasion for ladies to inquire,' 
 said Lady Clonbrony ; ' but this I know, that it's a great 
 disadvantage to a young man of a certain rank to blush ; for 
 no people, who live in a certain set, ever do ; and it is the 
 most opposite thing possible to a certain air, which, I own, 
 I think Colambre wants ; and now that he has done travelling 
 in Ireland, which is no use in pint of giving a gentleman a 
 travelled air, or anything of that sort, I hope he will put 
 himself under my conduct for next winter's campaign in town.' 
 
 Lord Clonbrony looked as if he did not know how to look ; 
 and, after drumming on the table for some seconds, said — 
 
 ' Colambre, I told you how it would be. That's a fatal 
 hard condition of yours.' 
 
 ' Not a hard condition, I hope, my dear father,' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 ' Hard it must be, since it can't be fulfilled, or won't be 
 fulfilled, which comes to the same thing,' replied Lord 
 Clonbrony, sighing. 
 
 ' I am persuaded, sir, that it will be fulfilled,' said Lord 
 Colambre ; ' I am persuaded that, when my mother hears the 
 truth, and the whole truth— when she finds that your happiness, 
 and the happiness of her whole family, depend upon her 
 yielding her taste on one subject ' 
 
 ' Oh, I see now what you are about,' cried Lady Clonbrony ; 
 ' you are coming round with your persuasions and prefaces to 
 ask me to give up Lon'on, and go back with you to Ireland, 
 my lord. You may save yourselves the trouble, all of you, 
 for no earthly persuasions shall make me do it. I will never 
 give up my taste on that pint. My happiness has a right to 
 
 304
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 be as much considered as your father's, Colambre, or any- 
 body's ; and, in one word, I won't do it,' cried she, rising 
 angrily from the breakfast-table. 
 
 'There! did not I tell you how it would be?' cried Lord 
 Clonbrony. 
 
 ' My mother has not heard me, yet,' said Lord Colambre, 
 laying his hand upon his mother's arm, as she attempted to 
 pass ; ' hear me, madam, for your own sake. You do not 
 know what will happen, this very day — this very hour, perhaps 
 — if you do not listen to me.' 
 
 ' And what will happen ? ' said Lady Clonbrony, stopping 
 short. 
 
 ' Ay, indeed ; she little knows,' said Lord Clonbrony, 
 ' what's hanging over her head.' 
 
 ' Hanging over my head ? ' said Lady Clonbrony, looking 
 up ; ' nonsense ! — what ? ' 
 
 ' An execution, madam ! ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Gracious me ! an execution ! ' said Lady Clonbrony, 
 sitting down again ; ' but I heard you talk of an execution 
 months ago, my lord, before my son went to Ireland, and it 
 blew over — I heard no more of it.' 
 
 ' It won't blow over now,' said Lord Clonbrony ; ' you'll 
 hear more of it now. Sir Terence O'Fay it was, you may 
 remember, that settled it then.' 
 
 ' Well, and can't he settle it now ? Send for him, since he 
 understands these cases ; and I will ask him to dinner myself, 
 for your sake, and be very civil to him, my lord.' 
 
 ' All your civility, either for my sake or your own, will not 
 signify a straw, my dear, in this case — anything that poor 
 Terry could do, he'd do, and welcome, without it ; but he can 
 do nothing.' 
 
 ' Nothing ! — that's very extraordinary. But I'm clear no 
 one dare to bring a real execution against us in earnest ; and 
 you are only trying to frighten me to your purpose, like a 
 child ; but it shan't do.' 
 
 ' Very well, my dear ; you'll see — too late.' 
 
 A knock at the house door. 
 
 ' Who is it ? — What is it ? ' cried Lord Clonbrony, growing 
 very pale. 
 
 Lord Colambre changed colour too, and ran downstairs. 
 ' Don't let 'em let anybody in, for your life, Colambre ; under 
 
 3°5 x
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 any pretence,' cried Lord Clonbrony, calling from the head 
 of the stairs ; then running to the window, ' By all that's 
 good, it's Mordicai himself! and the people with him.' 
 
 ' Lean your head on me, my dear aunt,' said Miss Nugent. 
 Lady Clonbrony leant back, trembling, and ready to faint. 
 
 ' But he's walking off now ; the rascal could not get in — 
 safe for the present ! ' cried Lord Clonbrony, rubbing his 
 hands, and repeating, ' safe for the present ! ' 
 
 ' Safe for the present ! ' repeated Lord Colambre, coming 
 again into the room. ' Safe for the present hour.' 
 
 ' He could not get in, I suppose — oh, I warned all the 
 servants well,' said Lord Clonbrony, ' and so did Terry. Ay, 
 there's the rascal, Mordicai, walking off, at the end of the 
 street ; I know his walk a mile off. Gad ! I can breathe 
 again. I am glad he's gone. But he will come back and 
 always lie in wait, and some time or other, when we're off our 
 guard (unawares), he'll slide in.' 
 
 ' Slide in ! Oh, horrid ! ' cried Lady Clonbrony, sitting up, 
 and wiping away the water which Mi^s Nugent had sprinkled 
 on her face. 
 
 1 Were you much alarmed ? ' said Lord Colambre, with a 
 voice of tenderness, looking at his mother first, but his eyes 
 fixing on Miss Nugent. 
 
 'Shockingly! 1 said Lady Clonbrony ; L I never thought it 
 would reelly come to this.' 
 
 ' It will really come to much more, my dear,' said Lord 
 Clonbrony. ' that you may depend upon, unless you prevent 
 it.' 
 
 ' Lord ! what can I do ? — I know nothing of business ; 
 how should I, Lord Clonbrony ; but I know there's 
 Colambre — I was always told that when he was of age every- 
 thing should be settled ; and why can't he settle it when he's 
 upon the spot ? ' 
 
 'And upon one condition, I will,' cried Lord Colambre; 
 'at what loss to myself, my dear mother, I need not mention.' 
 
 ' Then I will mention it,' cried Lord Clonbrony ; ' at the 
 loss it will be of nearly half the estate he would have had, if 
 we had not spent it.' 
 
 ' Loss ! Oh, I am excessively sorry my son's to be at such a 
 loss — it must not be.' 
 
 'It cannot be otherwise,' said Lord Clonbrony: 'nor it 
 306
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 can't be this way either, my Lady Clonbrony, unless you 
 comply with his condition, and consent to return to Ireland.' 
 
 ' I cannot — I will not,' replied Lady Clonbrony. ' Is this 
 your condition, Colambre ? — I take it exceedingly ill of you. 
 I think it very unkind, and unhandsome, and ungenerous, and 
 undutiful of you, Colambre ; you, my son ! ; She poured 
 forth a torrent of reproaches ; then came to entreaties and 
 tears. But our hero, prepared for this, had steeled his mind ; 
 and he stood resolved not to indulge his own feelings, or to 
 yield to caprice or persuasion, but to do that which he knew 
 was best for the happiness of hundreds of tenants who de- 
 pended upon them — best for both his father and his mother's 
 ultimate happiness and respectability. 
 
 ' It's all in vain,' cried Lord Clonbrony ; ' I have no re- 
 source but one, and I must condescend now to go to him this 
 minute, for Mordicai will be back and seize all — I must sign 
 and leave all to Garraghty.' 
 
 ' Well, sign, sign, my lord, and settle with Garraghty. 
 — Colambre, I've heard all the complaints you brought over 
 against that man. My lord spent half the night telling them 
 to me ; but all agents are bad, I suppose ; at any rate I can't 
 help it — sign, sign, my lord; he has money — yes, do; go 
 and settle with him, my lord.' 
 
 Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent, at one and the same 
 moment, stopped Lord Clonbrony as he was emitting the 
 room, and then approached Lady Clonbrony with supplicating 
 looks ; but she turned her head to the other side, and, as if 
 putting away their entreaties, made a repelling motion with 
 both her hands, and exclaimed, ' No, Grace Nugent ! — no, 
 Colambre — no — no, Colambre ! I'll never hear of leaving 
 Lon'on — there's no living out of Lon'on — I can't, I won't 
 live out of Lon'on, I say.' 
 
 Her son saw that the Londonomania was now stronger 
 than ever upon her, but resolved to make one desperate 
 appeal to her natural feelings, which, though smothered, he 
 could not believe were wholly extinguished ; he caught her 
 repelling hands, and pressing them with respectful tenderness 
 to his lips — 
 
 ' Oh, my dear mother, you once loved your son,' said he ; 
 ' loved him better than anything in this world ; if one spark 
 of affection for him remains, hear him now, and forgive him, 
 
 3°7
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 if he pass the bounds — bounds he never passed before — of 
 filial duty. Mother, in compliance with your wishes my 
 father left Ireland — left his home, his duties, his friends, his 
 natural connexions, and for many years he has lived in 
 England, and you have spent many seasons in London.' 
 
 ' Yes, in the very best company — in the very first circles,' 
 said Lady Clonbrony ; 'cold as the high-bred English are 
 said to be in general to strangers.' 
 
 'Yes,' replied Lord Colambre ; 'the very best company 
 (if you mean the most fashionable) have accepted of our 
 entertainments. We have forced our way into their frozen 
 circles ; wc have been permitted to breathe in these elevated 
 regions of fashion ; we have it to say, that the duke of this, 
 and my lady that, are of our acquaintance. YYe may say 
 more ; we may boast that we have vied with those whom we 
 could never equal. And at what expense have we done all 
 this ? For a single season, the last winter (I will go no 
 farther), at the expense of a great part of your timber, the 
 growth of a century — swallowed in the entertainments of one 
 winter in London ! Our hills to be bare for another half century 
 to come ! But let the trees go ; I think more of your tenants 
 — of those left under the tyranny of a bad agent, at the expense 
 of every comfort, every hope they enjoyed ! — tenants, who 
 were thriving and prosperous ; who used to smile upon you, 
 and to bless you both ! In one cottage, I have seen ' 
 
 Here Lord Clonbrony, unable to restrain his emotion, 
 hurried out of the room. 
 
 'Then I am sure it is not my fault,' said Lady Clonbrony ; 
 ' for I brought my lord a large fortune ; and I am confident 
 I have not, after all, spent more any season, in the best 
 company, than he has among a set of low people, in his 
 muddling, discreditable way.' 
 
 ' And how has he been reduced to this ? ' said Lord 
 Colambre. ' Did he not formerly live with gentlemen, his 
 equals, in his own country ; his contemporaries ? Men of the 
 first station and character, whom I met in Dublin, spoke of 
 him in a manner that gratified the heart of his son ; he was 
 respectable and respected at his own home ; but when he 
 was forced away from that home, deprived of his objects, his 
 occupations induced him to live in London, or at watering- 
 places, where he could find no employments that were suitable 
 
 108
 
 ; Oh, mother: " cried Lord Colamb 
 
 
 n; throwing himself at Lady ClotibroH.y'sftet: 
 Copyright 1894 by Macmillan &■ Co.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 to him — set down, late in life, in the midst of strangers, to 
 him cold and reserved — himself too proud to bend to those 
 who disdained him as an Irishman — is he not more to be 
 pitied than blamed for — yes, I, his son, must say the word — 
 the degradation which has ensued ? And do not the feelings, 
 which have this moment forced him to leave the room, show 
 that he is capable? — Oh, mother!' cried Lord Colambre, 
 throwing himself at Lady Clonbrony's feet, 'restore my 
 father to himself '. Should such feelings be wasted ? — No ; 
 give them again to expand in benevolent, in kind, useful 
 actions ; give him again to his tenantry, his duties, his 
 country, his home ; return to that home yourself, clear 
 mother ! leave all the nonsense of high life — scorn the im- 
 pertinence of these dictators of fashion, by whom, in return 
 for all the pains we take to imitate, to court them — in return 
 for the sacrifice of health, fortune, peace of mind, they bestow 
 sarcasm, contempt, ridicule, and mimickry ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, Colambre ! Colambre ! mimickry — I'll never believe 
 it.' 
 
 1 Believe me — believe me, mother; for I speak of what I 
 know. Scorn them — quit them ! Return to an unsophisticated 
 people — to poor, but grateful hearts, still warm with the re- 
 membrance of your kindness, still blessing you for favours 
 long since conferred, ever praying to see you once more. 
 Believe me, for I speak of what 1 know — your son has heard 
 these prayers, has felt these blessings. Here ! at my heart 
 felt, and still feel them, when I was not known to be your son, 
 in the cottage of the widow O'Neill. ' 
 
 ' Oh, did you see the widow O'Neill ? and does she remember 
 me ? ' said Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 ' Remember you ! and you, Miss Nugent ! I have slept in 
 the bed — I would tell you more, but I cannot.' 
 
 1 Well ! I never should have thought they would have 
 remembered me so long ! — poor people ! ' said Lady Clonbrony. 
 ' I thought all in Ireland must have forgotten me, it is now so 
 long since I was at home.' 
 
 'You are not forgotten in Ireland by any rank, I can 
 answer for that. Return home, my dearest mother — let me see 
 you once more among your natural friends, beloved, respected, 
 happy ! ' 
 
 ' Oh, return ! let us return home ! ' cried Miss Nugent, with 
 310
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 a voice of great emotion. ' Return, let us return home ! My 
 beloved aunt, speak to us ! — say that you grant our request ! ' 
 
 She kneeled beside Lord Colambre, as she spoke. 
 
 ' Is it possible to resist that voice — that look ? ' thought Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 ' If anybody knew, - ' said Lady Clonbrony, ' if anybody 
 could conceive, how I detest the sight, the thoughts of that old 
 yellow damask furniture, in the drawing-room at Clonbrony 
 Castle ' 
 
 ' Good heavens : ' cried Lord Colambre, starting up, and 
 looking at his mother in stupefied astonishment ; ' is that what 
 you are thinking of, ma'am ? ' 
 
 ' The yellow damask furniture ! ' said her niece, smiling. 
 ' Oh, if that's all, that shall never offend your eyes again. Aunt, 
 my painted velvet chairs are finished ; and trust the furnishing 
 that room to me. The legacy lately left me cannot be better 
 applied — you shall see how beautifully it will be furnished.' 
 
 'Oh, if I had money, I should like to do it myself; but it 
 would take an immensity to new furnish Clonbrony Castle 
 properly.' 
 
 ' The furniture in this house ' said Miss Nugent, looking 
 
 round. 
 
 ' Would do a great deal towards it, I declare,' cried Lady 
 Clonbrony ; 'that never struck me before, Grace, I protest — and 
 what would not suit one might sell or exchange here — and it 
 would be a great amusement to me — and I should like to set the 
 fashion of something better in that country. And I declare, 
 now, I should like to see those poor people, and that widow 
 O'Neill. I do assure you, I think I was happier at home ; only, 
 that one gets, I don't know how, a notion, one's nobody out of 
 Lon'on. But, after all, there's many drawbacks in Lon'on — and 
 many people are very impertinent, I'll allow — and if there's a 
 woman in the world I hale, it is Mrs. Dareville — and, if I was 
 leaving Lon'on, I should not regret Lady Langdale neither — and 
 Lady St. James is as cold as a stone. Colambre may well say 
 frozen circles — these sort of people are really very cold, and 
 have, I do believe, no hearts. I don't verily think there is one 
 
 of them would regret me more Hey ! let me see, Dublin 
 
 — the winter — Merrion Square — new furnished — and the 
 summer — Clonbrony Castle ! ' 
 
 Lord Colambre and Miss Nugent waited in silence till her 
 
 3"
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 mind should have worked itself clear. One great obstacle had 
 been removed ; and now that the yellow damask had been 
 taken out of her imagination, they no longer despaired. 
 
 Lord Clonbrony put his head into the room. 
 
 ' What hopes ? — any ? if not, let me go.' 
 
 He saw the doubting expression of Lady Clonbrony's 
 countenance — hope in the face of his son and niece. 
 
 1 My dear, dear Lad\- Clonbrony, make us all happy by one 
 word,' said he, kissing her. 
 
 'You never kissed me so since we left Ireland before,' said 
 Lady Clonbrony. ' Well, since it must be so, let us go,' 
 said she. 
 
 'Did I ever see such joy!' said Lord Clonbrony, clasping 
 his hands ; ' I never expected such joy in my life ! — I must go 
 and tell poor Terry ! ' and off he ran. 
 
 ' And now, since we are to go,' said Lady Clonbrony, ' pray 
 let us go immediately, before the thing gets wind, else I shall 
 have Mrs. Dareville, and Lady Langdale, and Lady St. James, 
 and all the world, coming to condole with me, just to satisfy 
 their own curiosity ; and then Miss Pratt, who hears every- 
 thing that everybody says, and more than they say, will come 
 and tell me how it is reported everywhere that we are ruined. 
 Oh ! I never could bear to stay and hear all this. I'll tell you 
 what I'll do — you are to be of age the day after to-morrow, 
 Colambre — very well, there are some papers for me to sign — 
 I must stay to put my name to them, and that done, that 
 minute I'll leave you and Lord Clonbrony to settle all the rest; 
 and I'll get into my carriage with Grace, and go down to 
 Buxton again ; where you can come for me, and take me up, 
 when you're all ready to go to Ireland — and we shall be so far 
 on our way. Colambre, what do you say to this ? ' 
 
 'That — if you like it, madam,' said he, giving one hasty 
 glance at Miss Nugent, and withdrawing his eyes, 'it is the 
 best possible arrangement.' 
 
 1 So,' thought Grace, ' that is the best possible arrangement 
 which takes us away.' 
 
 ' If I like it ! ' said Lady Clonbrony ; ' to be sure I do, or I 
 should not propose it. What is Colambre thinking of? I 
 know, Grace, at all events, what you and I must think of — of 
 having the furniture packed up, and settling what's to go, and 
 what's to be exchanged, and all that. Now, my dear, go and 
 
 3 12
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 write a note directly to Mr. Soho, and bid him come himself, 
 immediately ; and we'll go and make out a catalogue this 
 instant of what furniture I will have packed.' 
 
 So, with her head full of furniture, Lady Clonbrony retired. 
 'I go to my business, Colambre ; and I leave you to settle 
 yours in peace.' 
 
 In peace ! — Never was our hero's mind less at peace than 
 at this moment. The more his heart felt that it Mas painful, 
 the more his reason told him it was necessary that he should 
 part from Grace Nugent. To his union with her there was an 
 obstacle, which his prudence told him ought to be insurmount- 
 able ; yet he felt that, during the few days he had been with 
 her, the few hours he had been near her, he had, with his 
 utmost power over himself, scarcely been master of his passion, 
 or capable of concealing it from its object. It could not have 
 been done but for her perfect simplicity and innocence. But 
 how could this be supposed on his part ? How could he 
 venture to live with this charming girl ? How could he settle 
 at home ? What resource ? 
 
 His mind turned towards the army ; he thought that abroad, 
 and in active life, he should lose all the painful recollections, 
 and drive from his heart all the resentments, which could now 
 be only a source of unavailing regret. But his mother — his 
 mother, who had now yielded her own taste to his entreaties, 
 for the good of her family— she expected him to return and live 
 with her in Ireland. Though not actually promised or 
 specified, he knew that she took it for granted ; that it was 
 upon this hope, this faith, she consented ; he knew that she 
 would be shocked at the bare idea of his going into the army. 
 There was one chance — our hero tried, at this moment, to 
 think it the best possible chance — that Miss Nugent might marry 
 Mr. Salisbury, and settle in England. On this idea he relied as 
 the only means of extricating him from difficulties. 
 
 It was necessary to turn his thoughts immediately to 
 business, to execute his promises to his father. Two great 
 objects were now to be accomplished — the payment of his 
 father's debts, and the settlement of the Irish agent's accounts ; 
 and, in transacting this complicated business, he derived consider- 
 able assistance from Sir Terence O'Fay, and from Sir Arthur 
 BerryPs solicitor, Mr. Edwards. Whilst acting for Sir Arthur, 
 on a former occasion, Lord Colambre had gained the entire 
 
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 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 confidence of this solicitor, who was a man of the first 
 eminence. Mr. Edwards took the papers and Lord Clonbrony's 
 title-deeds home with him, saying that lie would give an 
 answer the next morning. He then waited upon Lord 
 Colambre, and informed him, that he had just received a letter 
 from Sir Arthur Berryl, who, with the consent and desire of 
 his lady, requested that whatever money might be required by 
 Lord Clonbrony should be immediately supplied on their 
 account, without waiting till Lord Colambre should be of age, 
 as the ready money might be of some convenience to him in 
 accelerating the journey to Ireland, which Sir Arthur and 
 Lady Berryl knew was his lordship's object. Sir Terence 
 O'Fay now supplied Mr. Edwards with accurate information 
 as to the demands that were made upon Lord Clonbrony, and 
 of the respective characters of the creditors. Mr. Edwards 
 undertook to settle with the fair claimants ; Sir Terence with 
 the rogues ; so that by l lie advancement of ready money from the 
 Berryls, and by the detection of false and exaggerated charges, 
 which Sir Terence made among the inferior class, the debts 
 were reduced nearly to one half of their former amount. 
 Mordicai, who had been foiled in his vile attempt to become 
 sole creditor, had, however, a demand of more than seven 
 thousand pounds upon Lord Clonbrony, which he had raised 
 to this enormous sum in six or seven years, by means well 
 known to himself. He stood the foremost in the list, not from 
 the greatness of the sum, but from the danger of his adding to 
 it the expenses of law. Sir Terence undertook to pay the 
 whole with five thousand pounds. Lord Clonbrony thought it 
 impossible ; the solicitor thought it improvident, because he 
 knew that upon a trial a much greater abatement would be 
 allowed ; but Lord Colambre was determined, from the present 
 embarrassments of his own situation, to leave nothing undone 
 that could be accomplished immediately. 
 
 Sir Terence, pleased with his commission, immediately 
 went to Mordicai. 
 
 ' Well, Sir Terence,' said Mordicai, l I hope you are come 
 to pay me my hundred guineas ; for Miss Broadhurst is 
 married ! ' 
 
 ' Well, Mister Mordicai, what then ? The ides of March 
 are come, but not gone ! Stay, if you plase, Mister Mordicai, 
 till Lady-day, when it becomes due ; in the meantime, I have 
 
 3M
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 a handful, or rather an armful, of bank-notes for you, from my 
 Lord Colambre.' 
 
 ' Humph ! ' said Mordicai ; ' how's that ? he'll not be of age 
 these three days.' 
 
 ' Don't matter for that ; he has sent me to look over your 
 account, and to hope that you will make some small abatement 
 in the total' 
 
 ' Harkee, Sir Terence — you think yourself very clever in 
 things of this sort, but you've mistaken your man ; I have an 
 execution for the whole, and I'll be d — d if all your cunning 
 shall MAKE me take up with part ! ' 
 
 ' Be asy, Mister Mordicai ! — you shan't make me break your 
 bones, nor make me drop one actionable word against your 
 high character ; for I know your clerk there, with that long 
 goose-quill behind his ear, would be ready evidence again' me. 
 But I beg to know, in one word, whether you will take five 
 thousand down, and GIVE Lord Clonbrony a discharge ? ' 
 
 ' No, Mr. Terence ! nor six thousand nine hundred and 
 ninety-nine pounds. My demand is ,£7130, odd shillings: 
 if you have that money, pay it ; if not, I know how to get it, 
 and along with it complete revenge for all the insults I have 
 received from that greenhorn, his son.' 
 
 ' Paddy Brady ! ' cried Sir Terence, ' do you hear that ? 
 Remember that word, revenge! — Mind, I call you to witness !' 
 
 'What, sir, will you raise a rebellion among my 
 workmen ? ' 
 
 ' No, Mr. Mordicai, no rebellion ; and I hope you won't 
 cut the boy's ears off for listening to a little of the brogue — 
 So listen, my good lad. Now, Mr. Mordicai, I offer you 
 here, before little goose-quill, ^5000 ready penny — take it, or 
 leave it ; take your money, and leave your revenge ; or, take 
 your revenge, and lose your money.' 
 
 4 Sir Terence, I value neither your threats nor your cunning. 
 Good morning to you.' 
 
 ' Good morning to you, Mr. Mordicai — but not kindly ! 
 Mr. Edwards, the solicitor, has been at the office to take off 
 the execution ; so now you may have law to your heart's 
 content ! And it was only to plase the young lord that the 
 oidd one consented to my carrying this bundle to you,' 
 — showing the bank-notes. 
 
 ' Mr. Edwards employed ! ' cried Mordicai. ' Why, how 
 
 315
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the devil did Lord Clonbrony get into such hands as his ? 
 The execution taken off! Well, sir, go to law— I am ready 
 for you ; Jack Latitat is a match for your sober solicitor.' 
 
 1 Good morning again to you, Mr. Mordicai ; we're fairly 
 out of your clutches, and we have enough to do with our 
 money.' 
 
 'Well, Sir Terence, I must allow you have a very 
 
 wheedling way Here, Mr. Thompson, make out a 
 
 receipt for Lord Clonbrony : I never go to law with an old 
 customer, if I can help it.' 
 
 This business settled, Mr. Soho was next to be dealt with. 
 
 He came at Lady Clonbrony's summons ; and was taking 
 directions, with the utmost sang froid, for packing up and 
 sending off the very furniture for which he was not paid. 
 
 Lord Colambre called him into his father's study ; and, 
 producing his bill, he began to point out various articles which 
 were charged at prices that were obviously extravagant. 
 
 ' Why, really, my lord, they are abundantly extravagant ; 
 if I charged vulgar prices, I should be only a vulgar trades- 
 man. I, however, am not a broker, nor a Jew. Of the article 
 superintendence, which is only .£500, I cannot abate a doit ; 
 on the rest of the bill, if you mean to offer ready, I mean, 
 without any negotiation, to abate thirty per cent ; and I hope 
 that is a fair and gentlemanly offer.' 
 
 ' Mr. Soho, there is your money ! ' 
 
 ' My Lord Colambre ! I would give the contents of three 
 such bills to be sure of such noblemanly conduct as yours. 
 Lady Clonbrony's furniture shall be safely packed, without 
 costing her a farthing.' 
 
 With the help of Mr. Edwards, the solicitor, every other 
 claim was soon settled ; and Lord Clonbrony, for the first time 
 since he left Ireland, found himself out of debt, and out of 
 danger. 
 
 Old Nick's account could not be settled in London. Lord 
 Colambre had detected numerous false charges, and sundry 
 impositions ; the land, which had been purposely let to run 
 wild, so far from yielding any rent, was made a source of 
 constant expense, as remaining still unset : this was a large 
 tract, for which St. Dennis had at length offered a small rent. 
 
 Upon a fair calculation of the profits of the ground, and 
 from other items in the account, Nicholas Garraghty, Esq., 
 
 316
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 appeared at last to be, not the creditor, but the debtor to Lord 
 Clonbrony. He was dismissed with disgrace, which perhaps 
 he might not have felt, if it had not been accompanied by 
 pecuniar)' loss, and followed by the fear of losing his other 
 agencies, and by the dread of immediate bankruptcy. 
 
 Mr. Burke was appointed agent in his stead to the Clonbrony 
 as well as the Colambre estate. His appointment was announced 
 to him by the following letter : — 
 
 To Mrs. Burke, at Colambre. 
 Dear Madam, 
 
 The traveller whom you so hospitably received some months ago 
 was Lord Colambre — he now writes to you in his proper person. He 
 promised you that he would, as far as it might be in his power, do 
 justice to Mr. Burke's conduct and character, by representing what he 
 had done for Lord Clonbrony in the town of Colambre, and in the 
 whole management of the tenantry and property under his care. 
 
 Happily for my father, my dear madam, he is now as fully 
 convinced as you could wish him to be of Mr. Burke's merits ; and 
 he begs me to express his sense of the obligations he is under to him 
 and to you. He entreats that you will pardon the impropriety of a 
 letter, which, as I assured you the moment I saw it, he never wrote 
 or read. This will, he says, cure him, for life, of putting his signature 
 to any paper without reading it. 
 
 He hopes that you will forget that such a letter was ever received, 
 and that you will use your influence with Mr. Burke to induce him 
 to continue to our family his regard and valuable services. Lord 
 Clonbrony encloses a power of attorney, enabling Mr. Burke to act in 
 future for him, if Mr. Burke will do him that favour, in managing the 
 Clonbrony as well as the Colambre estate. 
 
 Lord Clonbrony will be in Ireland in the course of next month, 
 and intends to have the pleasure of soon paying his respects in person 
 to Mr. Burke, at Colambre. — I am, dear madam, your obliged guest, 
 and faithful servant, Colambre. 
 
 Grosvenor Square, London. 
 
 Lord Colambre was so continually occupied with business 
 during the two days previous to his coming of age, every 
 morning at his solicitor's chambers, every evening in his 
 father's study, that Miss Nugent never saw him but at break- 
 fast or dinner ; and, though she watched for it most anxiously, 
 never could find an opportunity of speaking to him alone, or 
 
 317
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 of asking an explanation of the change and inconsistencies of 
 his manner. At last, she began to think that, in the midst of 
 so much business of importance, by which he seemed harassed, 
 she should do wrong to torment him, by speaking of any small 
 disquietude that concerned only herself. She determined to 
 suppress her doubts, to keep her feelings to herself, and to 
 endeavour, by constant kindness, to regain that place in his 
 affections which she imagined that she had lost. ' Everything 
 will go right again,' thought she, ' and we shall all be happy, 
 when he returns with us to Ireland — to that dear home which 
 he loves as well as I do ! ' 
 
 The day Lord Colambre was of age, the first thing he did 
 was to sign a bond for five thousand pounds, Miss Nugent's 
 fortune, which had been lent to his father, who was her 
 guardian. 
 
 • This, sir, I believe,' said he, giving it to his father as soon 
 as signed — ' this, I believe, is the first debt you would wish to 
 have secured.' 
 
 ' Well thought of, my dear boy ! — God bless you ! — that has 
 weighed more upon my conscience and heart than all the rest, 
 though I never said anything about it. I used, whenever I 
 met Mr. Salisbury, to wish myself fairly down at the centre of 
 the earth ; not that he ever thought of fortune, I'm sure ; for 
 he often told me, and I believed him, he would rather 
 have Miss Nugent without a penny, if he could get her, than 
 the first fortune in the empire. But I'm glad she will not go 
 to him penniless, for all that ; and by my fault, especially. 
 There, there's my name to it — do witness it, Terry. But, 
 Colambre, you must give it to her — you must take it to Grace.' 
 
 ' Excuse me, sir ; it is no gift of mine — it is a debt of yours. 
 I beg you will take the bond to her yourself, my dear 
 father.' 
 
 ' My dear son, you must not always have your own way, 
 and hide everything good you do, or give me the honour of it — 
 I won't be the jay in borrowed feathers. I have borrowed 
 enough in my life, and I've done with borrowing now, thanks 
 to you, Colambre — so come along with me ; for I'll be hanged 
 if ever I give this joint bond to Miss Nugent, without you along 
 with me. Leave Lady Clonbrony here to sign these papers. 
 Terry will witness them properly, and you come along with 
 me.' 
 
 3'S
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' And pray, my lord,' said her ladyship. ' order the carriage 
 to the door ; for, as soon as you have my signature, I hope 
 you'll let me off to Buxton.' 
 
 1 Oh, certainly — the carriage is ordered —everything ready, 
 my dear.' 
 
 'And pray tell Grace to be ready,' added Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 ' That's not necessary ; for she is always ready,' said Lord 
 Clonbrony. ' Come, Colambre,' added he, taking his son 
 under the arm, and carrying him up to Miss Nugent's 
 dressing-room. 
 
 They knocked, and were admitted. 
 
 ' Ready ! ' said Lord Clonbrony ; ' ay, always ready — so I 
 said. Here's Colambre, my darling.' continued he, ' has 
 secured your fortune to you to my heart's content ; but he 
 would not condescend to come up to tell you so, till I made 
 him. Here's the bond ; put your hand to it, Colambre ; you 
 were ready enough to do that when it cost you something ; 
 and now, all I have to ask of you is, to persuade her to marry 
 out of hand, that I may see her happy before I die. Now my 
 heart's at ease ! 1 can meet Mr. Salisbury with a safe conscience. 
 One kiss, my little Grace. If anybody can persuade you, I'm 
 sure it's that man that's now leaning against the mantelpiece. 
 It's Colambre's will, or your heart's not made like mine — so I 
 leave you.' 
 
 And out of the room walked he, leaving his poor son in as 
 awkward, embarrassing, and painful a situation, as could well 
 be conceived. Half a dozen indistinct ideas crossed his mind ; 
 quick conflicting feelings made his heart beat and stop. And 
 how it would have ended, if he had been left to himself, 
 whether he would have stood or fallen, have spoken or have 
 continued silent, can never now be known, for all was decided 
 without the action of his will. He was awakened from his 
 trance by these simple words from Miss Nugent — 
 
 1 I'm much obliged to you, cousin Colambre — more obliged 
 to you for your kindness in thinking of me first, in the midst 
 of all your other business, than by your securing my fortune. 
 Friendship — and your friendship — is worth more to me than 
 fortune. May I believe that is secured ? ' 
 
 ' Believe it ! Oh, Grace, can you doubt it ?' 
 
 ' I will not ; it would make me too unhappy. I will not.' 
 
 ' You need not.' 
 
 3 J 9
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' That is enough — I am satisfied — I ask no farther explana- 
 tion. You are truth itself — one word from you is security 
 sufficient. We are friends for life,' said she, taking his hand 
 between both of hers ; ' are not we ? ' 
 
 ' We are — and therefore sit down, cousin Grace, and let me 
 claim the privilege of friendship, and speak to you of him who 
 aspires to be more than your friend for life, Mr. ' 
 
 1 Mr. Salisbury ! ' said Miss Nugent ; ' I saw him yesterday. 
 We had a very long conversation ; I believe he understands my 
 sentiments perfectly, and that he no longer thinks of being 
 more to me than a friend for life.' 
 
 ' You have refused him ! ' 
 
 'Yes. I have a high opinion of Mr. Salisbury's under- 
 standing, a great esteem for his character ; I like his manners 
 and conversation ; but I do not love him, and therefore, you 
 know, I could not marry him.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Miss Nugent, with a high opinion, a great 
 esteem, and liking his manners and conversation, in such a 
 well-regulated mind as yours, can there be a better foundation 
 for love ? ' 
 
 ' It is an excellent foundation,' said she ; 'but I never went 
 any farther than the foundation ; and, indeed, I never wished to 
 proceed any farther.' 
 
 Lord Colambre scarcely dared to ask why ; but, after some 
 pause, he said — 
 
 ' I don't wish to intrude upon your confidence.' 
 
 ' You cannot intrude upon my confidence ; I am ready to 
 give it to you entirely, frankly ; I hesitated only because 
 another person was concerned. Do you remember, at my 
 aunt's gala, a lady who danced with Mr. Salisbury ? ' 
 
 ' Not in the least.' 
 
 'A lady with whom you and Mr. Salisbury were talking, 
 just before supper, in the Turkish tent.' 
 
 'Not in the least.' 
 
 ' As we went down to supper, you told me you had had 
 a delightful conversation with her — that you thought her a 
 charming woman.' 
 
 ' A charming woman ! — I have not the slightest recollection 
 of her.' 
 
 ' And you told me that she and Mr. Salisbury had been 
 praising me a Penvie I'une et /'autre.' 
 
 320
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Oh, I recollect her now perfectly,' said Lord Colambre ; 
 ' but what of her ? ' 
 
 ' She is the woman who, I hope, will be Mrs. Salisbury. 
 Ever since I have been acquainted with them both, I have 
 seen that they were suited to each other ; and fancy, indeed I 
 am almost sure, that she could love him, tenderly love him— 
 and, I know, I could not. But my own sentiments, you may 
 be sure, are all I ever told Mr. Salisbury.' 
 
 ' But of your own sentiments you may not be sure,' said 
 Lord Colambre ; ' and I see no reason why you should give 
 him up from false generosity.' 
 
 ' Generosity ? ' interrupted Miss Nugent ; ' you totally mis- 
 understand me ; there is no generosity, nothing for me to give 
 up in the case. I did not refuse Mr. Salisbury from generosity, 
 but because I did not love him. Perhaps my seeing this at 
 first prevented me from thinking of him as a lover ; but, from 
 whatever cause, I certainly never felt love for Mr. Salisbury, 
 nor any of that pity which is said to lead to love ; perhaps,' 
 added she, smiling, ' because I was aware that he would be so 
 much better off after I refused him — so much happier with one 
 suited to him in age, talents, fortune, and love — " What bliss, 
 did he but know his bliss," were Ms .' ' 
 
 ' Did he but know his bliss,' repeated Lord Colambre ; 
 ' but is not he the best judge of his own bliss ? ' 
 
 ' And am not I the best judge of mine ? ' said Miss Nugent ; 
 ' I go no farther.' 
 
 ' You are ; and I have no right to go farther. Yet, this 
 much permit me to say, my dear Grace, that it would give me 
 sincere pleasure, that is, real satisfaction, to see you happily — 
 established.' 
 
 ' Thank you, my dear Lord Colambre ; but you spoke that 
 like a man of seventy at least, with the most solemn gravity of 
 demeanour.' 
 
 ' I meant to be serious, not solemn,' said Lord Colambre, 
 endeavouring to change his tone. 
 
 1 There now,' said she, in a playful tone, ' you have seriously 
 accomplished the task my good uncle set you ; so I will report 
 well of you to him, and certify that you did all that in you lay 
 to exhort me to marry ; that you have even assured me that 
 it would give you sincere pleasure, that is, real satisfaction, 
 to see me happily established.' 
 
 7,21 Y
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 1 Oh, Grace, if you knew how much I felt when I said that, 
 you would spare this raillery.' 
 
 ' I will be serious — I am most seriously convinced of the 
 sincerity of your affection for me ; I know my happiness is 
 your object in all you have said, and 1 thank you from my 
 heart for the interest you take about me. But really and truly, 
 I do not wish to marry. This is not a mere commonplace 
 speech ; but I have not yet seen any man I could love. I like 
 you, cousin Colambre, better than Mr. Salisbury — I would rather 
 live with you than with him ; you know that is a certain proof 
 that I am not likely to be in love with him. I am happy as I 
 am, especially now we are all going to dear Ireland, home, to 
 live together : you cannot conceive with what pleasure I look 
 forward to that." 
 
 Lord Colambre was not vain ; but love quickly sees love 
 where it exists, or foresees the probability, the possibility of its 
 existence. He saw that Miss Nugent might love him tenderly, 
 passionately ; but that duty, habit, the prepossession that it was 
 impossible she could marry her cousin Colambre — a pre- 
 possession instilled into her by his mother — had absolutely 
 prevented her from ever yet thinking of him as a lover. He 
 saw the hazard for her, he felt the danger for himself. Never 
 had she appeared to him so attractive as at this moment, 
 when he felt the hope that he could obtain return of love. 
 
 ' But St. Omar ! — Why ! why is she a St. Omar ! — illegiti- 
 mate ! — " No St. Omar sans rcfiroche." My wife she cannot 
 be — I will not engage her affections.' 
 
 Swift as thoughts in moments of strong feeling pass in the 
 mind without being put into words, our hero thought all this, 
 and determined, cost what it would, to act honourably. 
 
 'You spoke of my returning to Ireland, my dear Grace. 
 I have not yet told you my plans.' 
 
 ' Plans ! are not you returning with us ? ' said she, precipi- 
 tately ; 'are not you going to Ireland — home — with us ?' 
 
 'No — I am going to serve a campaign or two abroad. I 
 think every young man in these times ' 
 
 ' Good heavens ! What does this mean ? What can you 
 mean ? ' cried she, fixing her eyes upon his, as if she would 
 read his very soul. ' Why ? what reason ? — Oh, tell me the 
 truth — and at once.' 
 
 His change of colour — his hand that trembled, and with 
 322
 
 , i ,„W she stortcd back ; her face grew crimson, and, in 
 
 ' As itflaskea across her mind, sue siarw , _ 
 
 A J the same instant, pale as death.
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 drew from hers — the expression of his eyes as they met hers — 
 revealed the truth to her at once. As it flashed across her 
 mind, she started back ; her face grew crimson, and, in the 
 same instant, pale as death. 
 
 'Yes — you see, you feel the truth now,' said Lord Colambre. 
 ' You see, you feel, that I love you — passionately.' 
 
 ' Oh, let me not hear it ! ' said she ; ' I must not — ought not. 
 Never, till this moment, did such a thought cross my mind — 
 I thought it impossible — oh, make me think so still.' 
 
 ' I will — it is impossible that we can ever be united.' 
 
 ' I always thought so,' said she, taking breath with a deep 
 sigh. ' Then why not live as we have lived ? ' 
 
 'I cannot — I cannot answer for myself — I will not run 
 the risk ; and therefore I must quit you — knowing, as I do, 
 that there is an invincible obstacle to our union, of what 
 nature I cannot explain ; I beg you not to inquire.' 
 
 'You need not beg it — I shall not inquire — I have 
 no curiosity — none,' said she, in a passive, dejected tone ; 
 ' that is not what I am thinking of in the least. I know 
 there are invincible obstacles ; I wish it to be so. But, 
 if invincible, you who have so much sense, honour, and 
 virtue ' 
 
 ' I hope, my dear cousin, that I have honour and virtue. 
 But there are temptations to which no wise, no good man will 
 expose himself. Innocent creature ! you do not know the 
 power of love. I rejoice that you have always thought it im- 
 possible — think so still — it will save you from all I must 
 
 endure. Think of me but as your cousin, your friend — give 
 your heart to some happier man. As your friend, your true 
 friend, I conjure you, give your heart to some more fortunate 
 man. Marry, if you can feel love — marry, and be happy. 
 Honour ! virtue ! Yes, I have both, and I will not forfeit them. 
 Yes, I will merit your esteem and my own — by actions, not 
 words ; and I give you the strongest proof, by tearing myself 
 from you at this moment. Farewell ! ' 
 
 ' The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent, and my lady 
 calling for you,' said her maid. ' Here's your key, ma'am, 
 and here's your gloves, my dear ma'am.' 
 
 ' The carriage at the door, Miss Nugent,' said Lady 
 Clonbrony's woman, coming eagerly with parcels in her 
 hand, as Miss Nugent parsed her and ran downstairs ; ' and 
 
 3 2 4
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 I don't know where I laid my lady's nianbreUa, for my life — do 
 you, Anne ? ' 
 
 ' No, indeed— but I know here's my own young lady's 
 watch that she has left. Bless me ! I never knew her 
 to forget anything on a journey before.' 
 
 ' Then she is going to be married, as sure as my name's 
 Le Maistre, and to my Lord Colambre ; for he has been 
 here this hour, to my certain Bible knowledge. Oh, you'll see, 
 she will be Lady Colambre.' 
 
 ' I wish she may, with all my heart,' said Anne ; ' but I 
 must run down— they're waiting.' 
 
 ' Oh no,' said Mrs. le Maistre, seizing Anne's arm, and 
 holding her fast ; ' stay — you may safely — for they're all 
 kissing and taking leave, and all that, you know ; and my 
 lady is talking on about Mr. Soho, and giving a hundred 
 directions about legs of tables, and so forth, I warrant — she's 
 always an hour after she's ready before she gets in — and I'm 
 looking for the numbrella. So stay, and tell me — Mrs. Petito 
 wrote over word it was to be Lady Isabel ; and then a 
 contradiction came — it was turned into the youngest of the 
 Killpatricks ; and now here he's in Miss Nugent's dressing- 
 room to the last moment. Now, in my opinion, that am not 
 censorious, this does not look so pretty ; but, according to 
 my verdict, he is only making a fool of Miss Nugent, like 
 the rest ; and his lordship seems too like what you might 
 call a male cockct, or a masculine jilt.' 
 
 ' No more like a masculine jilt than yourself, Mrs. le 
 Maistre,' cried Anne, taking fire. ' And my young lady is 
 not a lady to be made a fool of, I promise you ; nor is my 
 lord likely to make a fool of any woman.' 
 
 ' Bless us all ! that's no great praise for any young noble- 
 man, Miss Anne.' 
 
 ' Mrs. le Maistre ! Mrs. le Maistre ! are you above ? ' 
 cried a footman from the bottom of the stairs ; ' my lady's 
 calling for you.' 
 
 'Very well! very well!' said sharp Mrs. le Maistre; 
 1 very well ! and if she is — manners, sir ! — Come up for one, 
 can't you, and don't stand bawling at the bottom of the 
 stairs, as if one had no ears to be saved. I'm coming as 
 fast as I conveniently can.' Mrs. le Maistre stood in the 
 doorway, so as to fill it up, and prevent Anne from passing. 
 
 325
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Miss Anne ! Miss Anne ! Mrs, le Maistre ! ' cried another 
 footman ; 'my lady's in the carriage, and Miss Nugent.' 
 
 'Miss Nugent! — is she?' cried Mrs. le Maistre, running 
 downstairs, followed by Anne. ' Now, for the world in 
 pocket-pieces wouldn't I have missed seeing him hand Miss 
 Nugent in ; for by that I could have judged definitively.' 
 
 ' My lord, I beg pardon !— I'm afeard I'm late,' said Mrs. 
 le Maistre, as she passed Lord Colambre, who was standing 
 motionless in the hall. ' I beg a thousand pardons ; but I 
 was hunting high and low, for my lady's numbrella.' 
 
 Lord Colambre did not hear or heed her ; his eyes were 
 fixed, and they never moved. 
 
 Lord Clonbrony was at the open carriage -door, kneeling 
 on the step, and receiving Lady Clonbrony's 'more last words' 
 for Mr. Soho. The two waiting -maids stood together on 
 the steps. 
 
 'Look at our young lord, how he stands,' whispered 
 Mrs. le Maistre to Anne, 'the image of despair! And she, 
 the picture of death ! — I don't know what to think.' 
 
 ' Nor I ; but don't stare if you can help it,' said Anne. 
 ' Get in, get in, Mrs. le Maistre,' added she, as Lord Clon- 
 brony now rose from the step, and made way for them. 
 
 'Ay, in with you — in with you, Mrs. le Maistre,' said 
 Lord Clonbrony. ' Good-bye to you, Anne, and take care 
 of your young mistress at Buxton ; let me see her blooming 
 when we meet again ; I don't half like her looks, and I 
 never thought Buxton agreed with her.' 
 
 ' Buxton never did anybody harm,' said Lady Clonbrony ; 
 ' and as to bloom, I'm sure, if Grace has not bloom enough 
 in her cheeks this moment to please you, I don't know what 
 you'd have, my dear lord — Rouge ? — Shut the door, John ! 
 Oh, stay ! — Colambre ! Where upon earth's Colambre ? ' cried 
 her ladyship, stretching from the farthest side of the coach 
 to the window. — ' Colambre ! ' 
 
 Colambre was forced to appear. 
 
 ' Colambre, my dear ! I forgot to say that, if anything 
 detains you longer than Wednesday sennight, I beg you will 
 not fail to write, or I shall be miserable.' 
 
 ' I will write ; at all events, my dearest mother, you shall 
 hear from me.' 
 
 ' Then I shall be quite happy. Go on ! ; 
 326
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 The carriage drove on. 
 
 ' I do believe Colambre's ill ; I never saw a man look so 
 ill in my life — did you, Grace ? — as he did the minute we drove 
 on. He should take advice. I've a mind,' cried Lady 
 Clonbrony, laying her hand on the cord to stop the coachman — 
 ' I've a mind to turn about, tell him so, and ask what is the 
 matter with him.' 
 
 I Better not !' said Miss Nugent ; 'he will write to you, and 
 tell you — if anything is the matter with him. Better go on 
 now to Buxton ! ' continued she, scarcely able to speak. Lady 
 Clonbrony let go the cord. 
 
 ' But what is the matter with you, my dear Grace ? for you 
 are certainly going to die too ! ' 
 
 I I will tell you — as soon as I can ; but don't ask me now, 
 my dear aunt ! ' 
 
 ' Grace, Grace ! pull the cord ! ' cried Lady Clonbrony — 
 
 ' Mr. Salisbury's phaeton ! Mr. Salisbury, I'm happy to 
 
 see you ! We're on our way to Buxton — as I told you.' 
 
 ' So am I,' said Mr. Salisbury. ' I hope to be there before 
 your ladyship ; will you honour me with any commands ? — of 
 course, I will see that everything is ready for your reception.' 
 
 Her ladyship had not any commands. Mr. Salisbury drove 
 on rapidly. 
 
 Lady Clonbrony's ideas had now taken the Salisbury 
 channel. 
 
 'You didn't know that Mr. Salisbury was going to Buxton 
 to meet you, did you, Grace ?' said Lady Clonbrony. 
 
 ' No, indeed, I did not ! ' said Miss Nugent ; ' and I am 
 very sorry for it.' 
 
 'Young ladies, as Mrs. Broadhurst says, "never know, or 
 at least never tell, what they are sorry or glad for," ' replied 
 Lady Clonbrony. ' At all events, Grace, my love, it has 
 brought the fine bloom back to your cheeks ; and I own I am 
 satisfied.' 
 
 327
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 ' GONE ! for ever gone from me ! ' said Lord Colambrc to 
 himself, as the carriage drove away. ' Never shall I see her 
 more — never will I see her more, till she is married.' 
 
 Lord Colambre went to his own room, locked the door, and 
 was relieved in some degree by the sense of privacy ; by the 
 feeling that he could now indulge his reflections undisturbed. 
 He had consolation — he had done what was honourable — he 
 had transgressed no duty, abandoned no principle —he had not 
 injured the happiness of any human being - he had not, to 
 gratify himself, hazarded the peace of the woman he loved — 
 he had not sought to win her heart. Of her innocent, her warm, 
 susceptible heart, he might perhaps have robbed her — he knew 
 it — but he had left it untouched, he hoped entire, in her own 
 power, to bless with it hereafter some man worthy of her. In 
 the hope that she might be happy, Lord Colambre felt relief ; 
 and in the consciousness that he had made his parents happy, 
 he rejoiced. But, as soon as his mind turned that way for 
 consolation, came the bitter concomitant reflection, that his 
 mother must be disappointed in her hopes of his accompanying 
 her home, and of his living with her in Ireland ; she would be 
 miserable when she should hear that he was going abroad into 
 the army — and yet it must be so — and he must write, and tell 
 her so. ' The sooner this difficulty is off my mind, the sooner 
 this painful letter is written, the better,' thought he. ' It must 
 be done — I will do it immediately.' 
 
 He snatched up his pen, and began a letter. 
 
 ' My dear mother — Miss Nugent ; 
 
 He was interrupted by a knock at his door. 
 
 ' A gentleman below, my lord,' said a servant, ' who wishes 
 to see you.' 
 
 328
 
 ' " My dear count I the greater pleasure Jor being unexpected."'
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' I cannot see any gentleman. Did you say I was at home ?' 
 
 ' No, my lord ; I said you was not at home ; for I thought 
 you would not choose to be at home, and your own man was 
 not in the way for me to ask — so I denied you ; but the gentle- 
 man would not be denied ; he said I must come and see if you 
 was at home. So, as he spoke as if he was a gentleman not 
 used to be denied, I thought it might be somebody of conse- 
 quence, and I showed him into the front drawing-room. I think 
 he said he was sure you'd be at home for a friend from Ireland.' 
 
 'A friend from Ireland! Why did not you tell me that 
 sooner ? ' said Lord Colambre, rising, and running downstairs. 
 ' Sir James Brooke, I daresay.' 
 
 No, not Sir James Brooke ; but one he was almost as glad 
 to see — Count O'Halloran ! 
 
 1 My dear count ! the greater pleasure for being unexpected.' 
 
 ' I came to London but yesterday,' said the count ; ' but I 
 could not be here a day, without doing myself the honour of 
 paying my respects to Lord Colambre.' 
 
 ' You do me not only honour, but pleasure, my dear count. 
 People when they like one another, always find each other out, 
 and contrive to meet even in London.' 
 
 1 You are too polite to ask what brought such a super- 
 annuated militaire as I am,' said the count, ' from his retire- 
 ment into this gay world again. A relation of mine, who is 
 one of our Ministry, knew that I had some maps, and plans, 
 and charts, which might be serviceable in an expedition they 
 are planning. I might have trusted my charts across the 
 channel, without coming myself to convoy them, you will say. 
 But my relation fancied — young relations, you know, if they 
 are good for anything, are apt to overvalue the heads of old 
 relations — fancied that mine was worth bringing all the way 
 from Halloran Castle to London, to consult with tete-a-tete. So 
 you know, when this was signified to me by a letter from the 
 secretary in office, private, most confidential, what could I do, 
 but do myself the honour to obey ? For though honour's voice 
 cannot provoke the silent dust, yet " flattery soothes the dull 
 cold ear of age." — But enough, and too much of myself,' said 
 the count : ' tell me, my dear lord, something of yourself. I 
 do not think England seems to agree with you so well as 
 Ireland ; for, excuse me, in point of health, you don't look like 
 the same man I saw some weeks ago.'
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' My mind has been ill at ease of late,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Ay, there's the thing ! The body pays for the mind — but 
 those who have feeling minds, pain and pleasure altogether 
 computed, have the advantage ; or at least they think so ; for 
 they would not change with those who have them not, were 
 they to gain by the bargain the most robust body that the 
 most selfish coxcomb, or the heaviest dunce extant, ever 
 boasted. For instance, would you now, my lord, at this 
 moment change altogether with Major Benson, or Captain 
 Williamson, or even our friend, " Eh, really now, 'pon honour" 
 — would you ? — I'm glad to see you smile.' 
 
 ' I thank you for making me smile, for I assure you I want 
 it. I wish — if you would not think me encroaching upon your 
 
 politeness and kindness in honouring me with this visit You 
 
 see,' continued he, opening the doors of the back drawing-room, 
 and pointing to large packages — ' you see we are all preparing 
 for a march ; my mother has left town half an hour ago — my 
 father engaged to dine abroad — only I at home — and, in this 
 state of confusion, could I even venture to ask Count O'Halloran 
 to stay and dine with me, without being able to offer him 
 Irish ortolans or Irish plums — in short, will you let me rob you 
 of two or three hours of your time ? I am anxious to have 
 your opinion on a subject of some importance to me, and on 
 one where you are peculiarly qualified to judge and decide for 
 me.' 
 
 ' My dear lord, frankly, I have nothing half so good or so 
 agreeable to do with my time ; command my hours. I have 
 already told you how much it flatters me to be consulted by 
 the most helpless clerk in office • how much more about the 
 private concerns of an enlightened young— friend, will Lord 
 Colambre permit me to say ? I hope so ; for though the length 
 of our acquaintance might not justify the word, yet regard and 
 intimacy are not always in proportion to the time people 
 have known each other, but to their mutual perception of certain 
 attaching qualities, a certain similarity and suitableness of 
 character.' 
 
 The good count, seeing that Lord Colambre was in much 
 distress of mind, did all he could to soothe him by kindness ; 
 far from making any difficulty about giving up a few hours of 
 his time, he seemed to have no other object in London, and no 
 purpose in life, but to attend to our hero. To put him at ease, 
 
 33i
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 and to give him time to recover and arrange his thoughts, the 
 count talked of indifferent subjects. 
 
 ' I think I heard you mention the name of Sir James Brooke.' 
 
 ' Yes, I expected to have seen him when the servant first 
 mentioned a friend from Ireland ; because Sir James had told 
 me that, as soon as he could get leave of absence, he would 
 come to England.' 
 
 'He is come; is now at his estate in Huntingdonshire; 
 doing, what do you think? I will give you a leading hint; 
 recollect the seal which the little I)e Cresey put into your hands 
 the day you dined at Oranmore. Faithful to his motto, 
 " Deeds not words," he is this instant, I believe, at deeds, title- 
 deeds ; making out marriage settlements, getting ready to put 
 his seal to the happy articles.' 
 
 ' Happy man ! I give him joy,' said Lord Colambre ; ' happy 
 man ! going to be married to such a woman — daughter of such 
 a mother.' 
 
 'Daughter of such a mother! That is indeed a great 
 addition and a great security to his happiness,' said the count. 
 'Such a family to marry into ; good from generation to genera- 
 tion ; illustrious by character as well a- by genealogy; "all 
 the sons brave, and all the daughters chaste."' — Lord 
 Colambre with difficulty repressed his feelings. — ' If I could 
 choose, I would rather that a woman I loved were of such a 
 family than that she had for her dower the mines of Peru.' 
 
 ' So would I,' cried Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' I am glad to hear you say so, my lord, and with such 
 energy ; so few young men of the present day look to what I 
 call good connexion. In marrying, a man does not, to be 
 sure, marry his wife's mother ; and yet a prudent man, when he 
 begins to think of the daughter, would look sharp at the 
 mother ; ay, and back to the grandmother too, and along the 
 whole female line of ancestry.' 
 
 ' True— most true — he ought — he must.' 
 
 ' And I have a notion,' said the count, smiling, ' your 
 lordship's practice has been conformable to your theory.' 
 
 ' I ! — mine ! ' said Lord Colambre, starting, and looking at 
 the count with surprise. 
 
 ' I beg your pardon,' said the count ; ' I did not intend to 
 surprise your confidence. But you forget that I was present, 
 and saw the impression which was made on your mind by a 
 
 332
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 mother's want of a proper sense of delicacy and propriety — 
 Lady Dashfort.' 
 
 ' Oh, Lady Dashfort ! she was quite out of my head.' 
 
 ' And Lady Isabel ? — I hope she is quite out of your heart.' 
 
 ' She never was in it,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Only laid siege to it,' said the count. ' Well, I am glad 
 your heart did not surrender at discretion, or rather without 
 discretion. Then I may tell you, without fear or preface, that 
 the Lady Isabel, who " talks of refinement, delicacy, sense," is 
 going to stoop at once, and marry — Heathcock.' 
 
 Lord Colambre was not surprised, but concerned and dis- 
 gusted, as he always felt, even when he did not care for the 
 individual, from hearing anything which tended to lower the 
 female sex in public estimation. 
 
 ' As to myself,' said he, ' I cannot say I have had an escape, 
 for I don't think I ever was in much danger.' 
 
 ' It is difficult to measure danger when it is over — past 
 danger, like past pain, is soon forgotten,' said the old general. 
 ' At all events, I rejoice in your present safety.' 
 
 ' But is she really going to be married to Heathcock ? ' said 
 Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Positively ; they all came over in the same packet with 
 me, and they are all in town now, buying jewels, and equipages, 
 and horses. Heathcock, you know, is as good as another man, 
 a peu prh, for all those purposes ; his father is dead, and left 
 him a large estate. Que voulez vousf as the French valet 
 said to me on the occasion. C'est que monsieur est un hotnme de 
 Inert : il a des Mens, a ce qu'on dW 
 
 Lord Colambre could not help smiling. 
 
 1 How they got Heathcock to fall in love is what puzzles 
 me,' said his lordship. ' I should as soon have thought of an 
 oyster's falling in love as that being ! ' 
 
 ' I own I should have sooner thought,' replied the count, 
 ' of his falling in love with an oyster ; and so would you, if you 
 had seen him, as I did, devouring oysters on shipboard. 
 
 ' Say, can the lovely heroine hope to vie 
 With a fat turtle or a ven'son pie ? 
 
 But that is not our affair ; let the Lady Isabel look to it.' 
 
 Dinner was announced ; and no farther conversation of any 
 consequence passed between the count and Lord Colambre 
 
 333
 
 . 
 
 ,. 
 
 m m bt •■■*■ 

 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 mediately to Spain. I will have the thing done for you, if you 
 request it.' 
 
 ' First, give me your advice, Count O'Halloran ; you are 
 well acquainted with the military profession, with military life. 
 Would you advise me — I won't speak of myself, because we 
 judge better by general views than by particular cases — would 
 you advise a young man at present to go into the army ? ' 
 
 The count was silent for a few minutes, and then replied : 
 ' Since you seriously ask my opinion, my lord, I must lay aside 
 my own prepossessions, and endeavour to speak with 
 impartiality. To go into the army in these days, my lord, 
 is, in my sober opinion, the most absurd and base, or the 
 wisest and noblest thing a young man can do. To enter into 
 the army, with the hope of escaping from the application 
 necessary to acquire knowledge, letters, and science — I run 
 no risk, my lord, in saying this to you — to go into the army, 
 with the hope of escaping from knowledge, letters, science, 
 and morality ; to wear a red coat and an epaulette ; to be 
 called captain ; to figure at a ball ; to lounge away time in 
 country sports, at country quarters, was never, even in times 
 of peace, creditable ; but it is now absurd and base. Submit- 
 ting to a certain portion of ennui and contempt, this mode of 
 life for an officer was formerly practicable — but now cannot 
 be submitted to without utter, irremediable disgrace. Officers 
 are now, in general, men of education and information ; want 
 of knowledge, sense, manners, must consequently be immedi- 
 ately detected, ridiculed, and despised in a military man. Of 
 this we have not long since seen lamentable examples in the 
 raw officers who have lately disgraced themselves in my 
 neighbourhood in Ireland — that Major Benson and Captain 
 Williamson. But I will not advert to such insignificant 
 individuals, such are rare exceptions — I leave them out of the 
 question — I reason on general principles. The life of an 
 officer is not now a life of parade, of coxcombical, or of 
 profligate idleness — but of active service, of continual hardship 
 and danger. All the descriptions which we see in ancient 
 history of a soldier's life — descriptions which, in times of peace, 
 appeared like romance — are now realised ; military exploits fill 
 every day's newspapers, every day's conversation. A martial 
 spirit is now essential to the liberty and the existence of our 
 own country. In the present state of things, the military must 
 
 335
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 till the cloth was removed and the servants had withdrawn. 
 Then our hero opened on the subject which was heavy at his 
 heart. 
 
 ' My dear count — to go back to the burial-place of tlie 
 Nugents, where my head was lost the first time I had the 
 pleasure of seeing you — you know, or, possibly,' said he, smil- 
 ing, ' you do not know, that I have a cousin of the name of 
 Nugent?' 
 
 ' You told me,' replied the count, ' that you had near 
 relations of that name ; but I do not recollect that you 
 mentioned any one in particular.' 
 
 ' I never named Miss Nugent to you. No! it is not easy 
 to me to talk of her, and impossible to me to describe her. 
 If you had come one half-hour sooner this morning, you would 
 have seen her : I know she is exactly suited to your excellent 
 taste. But it is not at first sight she pleases most ; she gains 
 upon the affections, attaches the heart, and unfolds upon the 
 judgment. In temper, manners, and good sense, in every 
 quality a man can or should desire in a wife, I never saw her 
 equal. Yet, there is an obstacle, an invincible obstacle, the 
 nature of which I cannot explain to you, that forbids me to 
 think of her as a wife. She lives with my father and mother : 
 they are returning to Ireland. I wished, earnestly wished, on 
 many accounts, to have accompanied them, chiefly on my 
 mother's ; but it cannot be. The first thing a man must do 
 is to act honourably ; and, that he may do so, he must keep 
 out of the way of a temptation which he believes to be above 
 his strength. I will never see Miss Nugent again till she is 
 married ; I must either stay in England, or go abroad. I have 
 a mind to serve a campaign or two, if I could get a commis- 
 sion in a regiment going to Spain ; but I understand so many 
 are eager to go at this moment, that it is very difficult to get a 
 commission in such a regiment.' 
 
 ' It is difficult,' said the count. ' But,' added he, after 
 thinking for a moment, ' I have it ! I can get the thing done 
 for you, and directly. Major Benson, in consequence of that 
 affair, you know, about his mistress, is forced to quit the 
 regiment. When the lieutenant-colonel came to quarters, and 
 the cast of the officers heard the fact, they would not keep 
 company with Benson, and would not mess with him. I know 
 he wants to sell out ; and that regiment is to be ordered im- 
 
 334
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 mediately to Spain. I will have the thing done for you, if you 
 request it.' 
 
 ' First, give me your advice, Count O'Halloran ; you are 
 well acquainted with the military profession, with military life. 
 Would you advise me — I won't speak of myself, because we 
 judge better by general views than by particular cases — would 
 you advise a young man at present to go into the army ? ' 
 
 The count was silent for a few minutes, and then replied : 
 ' Since you seriously ask my opinion, my lord, I must lay aside 
 my own prepossessions, and endeavour to speak with 
 impartiality. To go into the army in these days, my lord, 
 is, in my sober opinion, the most absurd and base, or the 
 wisest and noblest thing a young man can do. To enter into 
 the army, with the hope of escaping from the application 
 necessary to acquire knowledge, letters, and science — I run 
 no risk, my lord, in saying this to you — to go into the army, 
 with the hope of escaping from knowledge, letters, science, 
 and morality ; to wear a red coat and an epaulette ; to be 
 called captain ; to figure at a ball ; to lounge away time in 
 country sports, at country quarters, was never, even in times 
 of peace, creditable ; but it is now absurd and base. Submit- 
 ting to a certain portion of ennui and contempt, this mode of 
 life for an officer was formerly practicable — but now cannot 
 be submitted to without utter, irremediable disgrace. Officers 
 are now, in general, men of education and information ; want 
 of knowledge, sense, manners, must consequently be immedi- 
 ately detected, ridiculed, and despised in a military man. Of 
 this we have not long since seen lamentable examples in the 
 raw officers who have lately disgraced themselves in my 
 neighbourhood in Ireland— that Major Benson and Captain 
 Williamson. But I will not advert to such insignificant 
 individuals, such are rare exceptions — I leave them out of the 
 question — I reason on general principles. The life of an 
 officer is not now a life of parade, of coxcombical, or of 
 profligate idleness — but of active service, of continual hardship 
 and danger. All the descriptions which we see in ancient 
 history of a soldier's life — descriptions which, in times of peace, 
 appeared like romance — are now realised ; military exploits fill 
 every day's newspapers, every day's conversation. A martial 
 spirit is now essential to the liberty and the existence of our 
 own country. In the present state of things, the military must 
 
 335
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 be the most honourable profession, because the most useful. 
 Every movement of an army is followed, wherever it goes, by 
 the public hopes and fears. Every officer must now feel, 
 besides this sense of collective importance, a belief that his 
 only dependence must be on his own merit— ami thus his 
 ambition, his enthusiasm, are raised ; and when once this 
 noble ardour is kindled in the breast, it excites to exertion, and 
 supports under endurance. But I forget myself,' said the 
 count, checking his enthusiasm ; ' I promised to speak soberly. 
 If I have said too much, your own good sense, my lord, will 
 correct me, and your good-nature will forgive the prolixity of 
 an old man, touched upon his favourite subject — the passion of 
 his youth.' 
 
 Lord Colambre, of course, assured the count that he was 
 not tired. Indeed, the enthusiasm with which this old 
 officer spoke of his profession, and the high point of view 
 in which he placed it, increased our hero's desire to serve a 
 camp. oad. Good sense, politeness, and experience of 
 
 the world preserved Count O'Halloran from that foible with 
 which old officers are commonly reproached, of talking con- 
 tinually of their own military exploits. Though retired from 
 the world, he had contrived, by reading the best books, and 
 corresponding with persons of good information, to keep up 
 with the current of modern affairs ; and he seldom spoke of 
 those in which he had been formerly engaged. He rather 
 too studiously avoided speaking of himseli ; and this fear of 
 egotism diminished the peculiar interest he might have in- 
 spired : it disappointed curiosity, and deprived those with 
 whom he conversed of many entertaining and instructive 
 anecdotes. However, he sometimes made exceptions to his 
 general rule in favour of persons who peculiarly pleased him, 
 and Lord Colambre was of this number. 
 
 He this evening, for the first time, spoke to his lordship of 
 the years he had spent in the Austrian service ; told him 
 anecdotes of the emperor ; spoke of many distinguished 
 public characters whom he had known abroad ; of those 
 officers who had been his friends and companions. Among 
 others he mentioned, with particular regard, a young English 
 officer who had been at the same time with him in the 
 Austrian service, a gentleman of the name of Reynolds. 
 
 The name struck Lord Colambre ; it was the name of the 
 3*6
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 officer who had been the cause of the disgrace of Miss St. 
 Omar — of Miss Xugent's mother. ' But there are so many 
 Reynoldses.' 
 
 He eagerly asked«sthe age — the character of this officer. 
 
 ' He was a gallant youth,' said the count, ' but too ad- 
 venturous — too rash. He fell, after distinguishing himself in 
 a glorious manner, in his twentieth year — died in my arms.' 
 
 ' Married or unmarried?' cried Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Married — he had been privately married, less than a year 
 before his death, to a very young English lady, who had been 
 educated at a convent in Vienna. He was heir to a con- 
 siderable property, I believe, and the young lady had little 
 fortune ; and the affair was kept secret from the fear of 
 offending his friends, or for some other reason — I do not 
 recollect the particulars.' 
 
 ' Did he acknowledge his marriage ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Never till he was dying — then he confided his secret 
 to me.' 
 
 ' Do you recollect the name of the young lad}- he married ? ' 
 
 'Yes — a Miss St. Omar.' 
 
 ' St. Omar ! ' repeated Lord Colambre, with an expression 
 of lively joy in his countenance. ' But are you certain, my 
 clear count, that she was really married, legally married, to 
 Mr. Reynolds ? Her marriage has been denied by all his 
 friends and relations — hers have never been able to establish 
 
 it — her daughter is My dear count, were you present at the 
 
 marriage ? ' 
 
 ' Xo,' said the count, ' I was not present at the marriage ; 
 . I never saw the lady, nor do I know anything of the affair, 
 except that Mr. Reynolds, when he was dying, assured me 
 that he was privately married to a Miss St. Omar, who was 
 then boarding at a convent in Vienna. The young man 
 expressed great regret at leaving her totally unprovided for ; 
 but said that he trusted his father would acknowledge her, and 
 that her friends would be reconciled to her. He was not of 
 age, he said, to make a will ; but I think he told me that his 
 child, who at that time was not born, would, even if it should 
 be a girl, inherit a considerable property. With this, I cannot, 
 however, charge my memory positively ; but he put a packet 
 into my hands which, he told me, contained a certificate of 
 his marriage, and, I think he said, a letter to his father ; this 
 
 337 2
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 he requested that I would transmit to England by some safe 
 hand. Immediately after his death, I went to the English 
 ambassador, who was then leaving Vienna, and delivered the 
 packet into his hands ; he promised to have it safely delivered. 
 I was obliged to go the next day, with the troops, to a distant 
 part of the country. When I returned, I inquired at the con- 
 vent what had become of Miss St. Omar — I should say Mrs. 
 Reynolds ; and I was told that she had removed from the 
 convent to private lodgings in the town, some time previous 
 to the birth of her child. The abbess seemed much scandalised 
 by the whole transaction ; and I remember I relieved her 
 mind by assuring her that there had been a regular marriage. 
 For poor young Reynolds's sake, I made farther inquiries about 
 the widow, intending, of course, to act as a friend, if she was 
 in any difficulty or distress. But I found, on inquiry at her 
 lodgings, that her brother had come from England for her, and 
 had carried her and her infant away. The active scenes,' con- 
 tinued the count, ' in which I was immediately afterwards en- 
 gaged, drove the whole affair from my mind. Now that your 
 questions have recalled them, I feel certain of the facts I have 
 mentioned ; and I am ready to establish them by my testimony.' 
 
 Lord Colambre thanked him with an eagerness that showed 
 how much he was interested in the event. It was clear, he 
 said, either that the packet left with the ambassador had not 
 been delivered, or that the father of Mr. Reynolds had sup- 
 pressed the certificate of the marriage, as it had never been 
 acknowledged by him or by any of the family. Lord Colambre 
 now frankly told the count why he was so anxious about this 
 affair ; and Count O'Halloran, with all the warmth of youth, 
 and with all the ardent generosity characteristic of his country, 
 entered into his feelings, declaring that he would never rest 
 till he had established the truth. 
 
 ' Unfortunately,' said the count, ' the ambassador who took 
 the packet in charge is dead. I am afraid we shall have 
 difficulty.' 
 
 ' But he must have had some secretary,' said Lord 
 Colambre ; ' who was his secretary ? — we can apply to him.' 
 
 ' His secretary is now charge d'affaires in Vienna — we cannot 
 get at him.' 
 
 ' Into whose hands have that ambassador's papers fallen — 
 who is his executor ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 338
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' His executor ! — now you have ity cried the count. ' His 
 executor is the very man who will do your business — your 
 friend Sir James Brooke is the executor. All papers, of 
 
 II: now joyfully and rapidly went on 
 
 course, are in his hands ; or he can have access to any that are 
 in the hands of the family. The family seat is within a few 
 miles of Sir James Brooke's, in Huntingdonshire, where, as I 
 told you before, he now is.' 
 
 ' I'll go to him immediately — set out in the mail this night. 
 
 339
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 Just in time!' cried Lord Colambre, pulling out his watch 
 with one hand, and ringing the bell with the other. 
 
 ' Run and take a place for me in the mail for Huntingdon. 
 Go directly,' said Lord Colambre to the servant. 
 
 'And take two places, if you please, sir,' said the count. 
 ' My lord, I will accompany you.' 
 
 But this Lord Colambre would not permit, as it would be 
 unnecessary to fatigue the good old general ; and a letter from 
 him to Sir James Brooke would do all that the count could 
 effect by his presence ; the search for the papers would be 
 made by Sir James, and if the packet could be recovered, or 
 if any memorandum or mode of ascertaining that it had actually 
 been delivered to old Reynolds could be discovered, Lord 
 Colambre said he would then call upon the count for his 
 assistance, and trouble him to identify the packet ; or to go 
 with him to Mr. Reynolds to make farther inquiries ; and to 
 certify, at all events, the young man's dying acknowledgment 
 of his marriage and of his child. 
 
 The place in the mail, just in time, was taken. Lord 
 Colambre sent a servant in search of his father, with a note 
 explaining the necessity of his sudden departure. All the 
 business which remained to be done in town he knew Lord 
 Clonbrony could accomplish without his assistance. Then 
 lie wrote a few lines to his mother, on the very sheet of paper 
 (in which, a few hours before, he had sorrowfully and slowly 
 begun — 
 
 My dea?- Mother — Miss Nugent. 
 He now joyfully and rapidly went on — 
 
 My dear Mother and Mis^ Nugent, 
 
 I hope to he with you on Wednesday se'nnight ; but if unforeseen 
 circumstances should delay me, I will certainly write to you again. — 
 Dear mother, believe me, your obliged and grateful son, 
 
 COLAMRRE. 
 
 The count, in the meantime, wrote a letter for him to Sir 
 James Brooke, describing the packet which he had given to 
 the ambassador, and relating all the circumstances that could 
 lead to its recovery. Lord Colambre, almost before the wax 
 was hard, seized possession of the letter ; the count seeming 
 almost as eager to hurry him off as he was to set out. He 
 thanked the count with few words, but with strong feeling. 
 Joy and love returned in full tide upon our hero's soul ; all the 
 
 340
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 military ideas, which but an hour before filled his imagination, 
 were put to flight : Spain vanished, and green Ireland re- 
 appeared. 
 
 Just as they shook hands at parting, the good old general, 
 with a smile, said to him, ' I believe I had better not stir in 
 the matter of Benson's commission till I hear more from you. 
 My harangue, in favour of the military profession, will, I fancy, 
 prove like most other harangues, en pure perfe.' 
 
 341
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 In what words of polite circumlocution, or of cautious 
 diplomacy, shall we say, or hint, that the deceased ambas- 
 sador's papers were found in shameful disorder. His excel- 
 lency's executor, Sir James lhooke, however, was indefatigable 
 in his researches. He and Lord Colambre spent two whole 
 days in looking over portfolios of letters and memorials, and 
 manifestoes, and bundles of paper of the mo^t heterogeneous 
 sorts ; some of them without any docket or direction to lead to 
 a knowledge of their contents ; others written upon in such a 
 manner as to give an erroneous notion of their nature ; so that 
 it was necessary to untie every paper separately. At last, 
 when they had opened, as they thought, every paper, and, 
 wearied and in despair, were just on the point of giving up the 
 search, Lord Colambre spied a bundle of old newspapers at 
 the bottom of a trunk. 
 
 ' They are only old Vienna Gazettes ; I looked at them,' said 
 Sir James. 
 
 Lord Colambre, upon this assurance, was going to throw 
 them into the trunk again ; but observing that the bundle had 
 not been untied, he opened it, and within -side of the news- 
 papers he found a rough copy of the ambassador's journal, 
 and with it the packet, directed to Ralph Reynolds sen., Esq., 
 
 Old Court, Suffolk, per favour of his excellency, Earl , 
 
 a note on the cover, signed O'Halloran, stating when received 
 by him, and the date of the day when delivered to the ambas- 
 sador — seals unbroken. Our hero was in such a transport of 
 joy at the sight of this packet, and his friend Sir James 
 Brooke so full of his congratulations, that they forgot to curse 
 the ambassador's carelessness, which had been the cause of so 
 much evil. 
 
 342
 
 
 'o7« explained, thai she " a»«# «<tf justly say 
 •where he was.'' '
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 The next thing to be done was to deliver the packet to 
 Ralph Reynolds, Old Court, Suffolk. But when Lord 
 Colambre arrived at Old Court, Suffolk, he found all tin 
 gates locked, and no admittance to be had. At last an old 
 woman came out of the porter's lodge, who said Mr. Reynolds 
 was not there, and she could not say where he was. After 
 our hero had opened her heart by the present of half a guinea, 
 she explained, that she ' could not justly say where he was, 
 because that he never let anybody of his own people know 
 where he was any day ; he had several different houses and 
 places in different pa::-, and far-off counties, and other shires, 
 as she heard, and by times he was at one, and by times at 
 another.' The names of two of the places, Toddrington and 
 Little Wrestham, she knew ; but there were others to which 
 she could give no direction. He had houses in odd parts of 
 London, too, that he let ; and sometimes, when the lodgers' 
 time was out, he would go, and be never heard of for a month, 
 maybe, in one of them. In short, there was no telling or 
 saying where he was or would be one day of the week, by 
 where he had been the 1 
 
 When Lord Colambre expressed some surprise that an old 
 gentleman, as he conceived Mr. Ralph Reynolds to be, should 
 change places so frequently, the old woman answered, 'That 
 though her master was a deal on the wrong side of seventy, 
 and though, to look at him, you'd think he was glued to his 
 chair, and would fall to pieces if he should stir out of it, yet 
 was as alert, and thought no more of going about, than if he 
 was as young as the gentleman who was now speaking to her. 
 It was old Mr. Reynolds's delight to come down and surprise 
 his people at his different places, and see that they were 
 keeping all tight.' 
 
 ' What sort of a man is he? — Is he a miser?' said Lord 
 Colambre. 
 
 ' He is a miser, and he is not a miser,' said the woman. 
 ' Now he'd think as much of the waste of a penny as another 
 man would of a hundred pounds, and yet he would give a 
 hundred pounds easier than another would give a penny, when 
 he's in the humour. But his humour is very odd, and there's 
 no knowing where to have him ; he's gross-grained, and more 
 positiverA\k& than a mule ; and his deafness made him worse 
 in this, because he never heard what nobody said, but would 
 
 344
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 say on his own way — he was very odd, but not cracked — no, 
 he was as clear-headed, when he took a thing the right way, 
 as any man could be, and as clever, and could talk as well as 
 any member of Parliament, — and good-natured, and kind- 
 hearted, where he would take a fancy — but then, maybe, it 
 would be to a dog (he was remarkable fond of dogs), or a 
 cat, or a rat even, that he would take a fancy, and think more 
 of 'em than he would of a Christian. But, poor gentleman, 
 there's great allowance,' said she, ' to be made for him, that 
 lost his son and heir — that would have been heir to all, and a 
 fine youth that he doted upon. But, 5 continued the old 
 woman, in whose mind the transitions from great to little, 
 from serious to trivial, were ludicrously abrupt, ' that was no 
 reason why the old gentleman should scold me last time he 
 was here, as he did, for as long as ever he could stand over 
 me, only because I killed a mouse who was eating my cheese ; 
 and, before night, he beat a boy for stealing a piece of that 
 same cheese ; and he would never, when down here, let me 
 set a mouse-trap.' 
 
 ' Well, my good woman,' interrupted Lord Colambre, who 
 was little interested in this affair of the mouse-trap, and nowise 
 curious to learn more of Mr. Reynolds's domestic economy, ' I'll 
 not trouble you any farther, if you can be so good as to tell 
 me the road to Toddrington, or to Little Wickham, I think 
 you call it.' 
 
 ' Little Wickham ! ' repeated the woman, laughing — ' Bless 
 you, sir, where do you come from ? — It's Little Wrestham ; 
 surely everybody knows, near Lantry ; and keep the pike till 
 you come to the turn at Rotherford, and then you strike off 
 into the by-road to the left, and then again turn at the ford to 
 the right. But, if you are going to Toddrington, you don't go 
 the road to market, which is at the first turn to the left, and the 
 cross-country road, where there's no quarter, and Toddrington 
 lies — but for Wrestham, you take the road to market.' 
 
 It was some time before our hero could persuade the old 
 woman to stick to Little Wrestham, or to Toddrington, and not 
 to mix the directions for the different roads together— he took 
 patience, for his impatience only confused his director the more. 
 In process of time, he made out, and wrote down, the various 
 turns that he was to follow, to reach Little Wrestham ; but no 
 human power could get her from Little Wrestham to Toddring- 
 
 345
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ton, though she knew the road perfectly well ; but she had, for the 
 seventeen last years, been used to go ' the other road,' and all 
 the carriers went that way, and passed the door, and that was 
 all she could certify. 
 
 Little Wrestham, after turning to the left and right as often 
 as his directory required, our hero happily reached ; but, 
 unhappily, he found no Mr. Reynolds there; only a steward, 
 who gave nearly the same account of his master as had been 
 given by the old woman, and could not guess even where the 
 gentleman might now be. Toddrington was as likely as any 
 place — but he could not say. 
 
 ' Perseverance against fortune.' To Toddrington our hero 
 proceeded, through cross-country roads — such roads ! — very 
 different from the Irish roads. Waggon ruts, into which the 
 carriage wheels sunk nearly to the nave — and, from time to time, 
 'sloughs of despond,' through which it seemed impossible to 
 drag, walk, wade, or swim, and all the time with a sulky 
 postillion. ' Oh, how unlike my Larry ! ' thought Lord 
 Colambrc. 
 
 At length, in a very narrow lane, going up a hill, said to be 
 two miles of ascent, they overtook a heavy laden waggon, and 
 they were obliged to go step by step behind it, whilst, enjoying 
 the gentleman's impatience much, and the postillion's sulkiness 
 more, the waggoner, in his embroidered frock, walked in state, 
 with his long sceptre in his hand. 
 
 The postillion muttered ' curses not loud, but deep.' Deep 
 or loud, no purpose would they have answered ; the waggoner's 
 temper was proof against curse in or out of the English 
 language ; and from their snail's pace neither Dickens nor devil, 
 nor any postillion in England, could make him put his horses. 
 Lord Colambre jumped out of the chaise, and, walking beside 
 him, began to talk to him ; and spoke of his horses, their bells, 
 their trappings ; the beauty and strength of the thill-horse — the 
 value of the whole team, which his lordship happening to guess 
 right within ten pounds, and showing, moreover, some skill 
 about road-making and waggon-wheels, and being fortunately 
 of the waggoner's own opinion in the great question about 
 conical and cylindrical rims, he was pleased with the young 
 chap of a gentleman ; and, in spite of the chuffmess of his 
 appearance and churlishness of his speech, this waggoner's 
 bosom ' being made of penetrating stuff,' he determined to let 
 
 346
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 the gentleman pass. Accordingly, when half-way up the hill, 
 and the head of the fore-horse came near an open gate, the 
 waggoner, without saying one word or turning his head, 
 touched the horse with his long whip — and the horse turned in 
 at the gate, and then came — 
 
 'Dobbin! — Jeho ! ' and strange calls and sounds, which 
 all the other horses of the team obeyed ; and the waggon 
 turned into the farmyard. 
 
 ' Now, master ! while I turn, you may pass.' 
 
 The covering of the waggon caught in the hedge as the 
 waggon turned in ; and as the sacking was drawn back, some 
 of the packages were disturbed — a cheese was just rolling oft" 
 on the side next Lord Colambre ; he stopped it from falling ; 
 the direction caught his quick eye — 'To Ralph Reynolds, 
 Esq.' — ' Toddrington'' scratched out; 'Red Lion Square, 
 London,' written in another hand below. 
 
 ' Now I have found him ! And surely I know that hand ! ' 
 said Lord Colambre to himself, looking more closely at the 
 direction. 
 
 The original direction was certainly in a handwriting well 
 known to him — it was Lady Dashfort's. 
 
 ' That there cheese, that you're looking at so cur'ously,' 
 said the waggoner, ' has been a great traveller ; for it came 
 all the way down from Lon'on, and now it's going all the way 
 up again back, on account of not finding the gentleman at 
 home ; and the man that booked it told me as how it came 
 from foreign parts.' 
 
 Lord Colambre took down the direction, tossed the honest 
 waggoner a guinea, wished him good-night, passed, and went 
 on. As soon as he could, he turned into the London road — 
 at the first town, got a place in the mail — reached London — 
 saw his father — went directly to his friend, Count O'Halloran, 
 who was delighted when he beheld the packet. Lord Colambre 
 was extremely eager to go immediately to old Reynolds, 
 fatigued as he was ; for he had travelled night and day, and 
 had scarcely allowed himself, mind or body, one moment's 
 repose. 
 
 ' Heroes must sleep, and lovers too ; or they soon will cease 
 to be heroes or lovers ! ' said the count. ' Rest, rest, pertui'bed 
 spirit ! this night ; and to-morrow morning we'll finish the 
 adventure in Red Lion Square, or I will accompany you 
 
 347
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 when and where you will ; if necessary, to earth's remotest 
 bounds.' 
 
 The next morning Lord Colambre went to breakfast with 
 the count. The count, who was not in love, was not up, for 
 our hero was half an hour earlier than the time appointed. 
 The old servant Ulick, who had attended his master to Eng- 
 land, was very glad to see Lord Colambre again, and, showing 
 him into the breakfast parlour, could not help saying, in 
 defence of his master's punctuality — 
 
 ' Your clocks, I suppose, my lord, are half an hour faster 
 than ours ; my master will be ready to the moment.' 
 
 The count soon appeared — breakfast was soon over, and the 
 carriage at the door ; for the count sympathised in his young 
 friend's impatience. As they were setting out, the count's 
 large Irish dog pushed out of the house door to follow them ; 
 and his master would have forbidden him, but Lord Colambre 
 begged that he might be permitted to accompany them ; for 
 his lordship recollected the old woman's having mentioned 
 that Mr. Reynolds was fond of dogs. 
 
 They arrived in Red Lion Square, found the house of Mr. 
 Reynolds, and, contrary to the count's prognostics, found the 
 old gentleman up, and they saw him in his red night-cap at 
 his parlour window. After some minutes' running backwards 
 and forwards of a boy in the passage, and two or three peeps 
 taken over the blinds by the old gentleman, they were 
 admitted. 
 
 The boy could not master their names ; so they were 
 obliged reciprocally to announce themselves — 'Count O'Hal- 
 loran and Lord Colambre.' The names seemed to make no 
 impression on the old gentleman ; but he deliberately looked 
 at the count and his lordship, as if studying tu/iat rather than 
 who they were. In spite of the red night-cap, and a flowered 
 dressing-gown, Mr. Reynolds looked like a gentleman, an 
 odd gentleman — but still a gentleman. 
 
 As Count O'Halloran came into the room, and as his large 
 dog attempted to follow, the count's voice expressed : ' Say, 
 shall I let him in, or shut the door ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, let him in, by all means, sir, if you please ! I am 
 fond of dogs ; and a finer one I never saw ; pray, gentlemen, be 
 seated,' said he — a portion of the complacency inspired by the 
 sight of the dog, diffusing itself over his manner towards the 
 
 34§
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 master of so fine an animal, and even extending to the 
 master's companion, though in an inferior degree. Whilst 
 Mr. Reynolds stroked the dog, the count told him that ' the 
 dog was of a curious breed, now almost extinct — the Irish 
 greyhound, of which only one nobleman in Ireland, it is said, 
 has now a few of the species remaining in his possession 
 
 Nov/, lie down, Hannibal,' said the count. ' Mr. 
 
 Reynolds, we have taken the liberty, though strangers, of 
 waiting upon you ' 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, sir,' interrupted Mr. Reynolds ; ' but 
 did I understand you rightly, that a few of the same species 
 are still to be had from one nobleman in Ireland ? Pray, 
 what is his name ? ' said he, taking out his pencil. 
 
 The count wrote the name for him, but observed, that ' he 
 had asserted only that a few of these dogs remained in the 
 possession of that nobleman ; he could not answer for it that 
 they were to be had? 
 
 ' Oh, I have ways and means,' said old Reynolds ; and, 
 rapping his snuff-box, and talking, as it was his custom, loud to 
 himself, ' Lady Dashfort knows all those Irish lords ; she 
 shall get one for me — ay ! ay ! ' 
 
 Count O'Halloran replied, as if the words had been 
 addressed to him — 
 
 ' Lady Dashfort is in England.' 
 
 ' I know it, sir ; she is in London,' said Mr. Reynolds, 
 hastily. ' What do you know of her ? ' 
 
 ' I know, sir, that she is not likely to return to Ireland, and 
 that I am ; and so is my young friend here ; and if the thing 
 can be accomplished, we will get it done for you.' 
 
 Lord Colambre joined in this promise, and added that, ' if 
 the dog could be obtained, he would undertake to have him 
 safely sent over to England.' 
 
 ' Sir — gentlemen ! I'm much obliged ; that is, when you 
 have done the thing I shall be much obliged. But, maybe, 
 you are only making me civil speeches ! ' 
 
 ' Of that, sir,' said the count, smiling with much temper, 
 ' your own sagacity and knowledge of the world must enable 
 you to judge.' 
 
 ' For my own part, I can only say,' cried Lord Colambre, 
 ' that I am not in the habit of being reproached with saying 
 one thing and meaning another/ 
 
 349
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 for I had reason, for years, to expect the stroke ; and yet, when 
 it came, it seemed sudden ! — it stunned me — put an end to all 
 my worldly prospects — left me childless, without a single 
 descendant or relation near enough to be dear to me ! I am 
 an insulated being ! ' 
 
 ' No, sir, you are not an insulated being,' said Lord Colambre ; 
 ' you have a near relation, who will, who must be dear to you ; 
 who will make you amends for all you have lost, all you have 
 suffered — who will bring peace and joy to your heart. You 
 have a grand-daughter.' 
 
 ' Xo, sir ; I have no grand-daughter,' said old Reynolds, his 
 face and whole form becoming rigid with the expression of 
 obstinacy. ' Rather have no descendant than be forced to 
 acknowledge an illegitimate child. 1 
 
 ' My lord, I entreat as a friend— I command you to be 
 patient,' said the count, who saw Lord Colambre's indignation 
 suddenly rise. 
 
 1 So, then, this is the purpose of your visit,' continued old 
 Reynolds ; ' and you come from my enemies, from the St. 
 Omars, and you are in a league with them,' continued old 
 Reynolds ; ' and all this time it is of my eldest son you have 
 been talking.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir,' replied the count ; ' of Captain Reynolds, who fell 
 in battle, in the Austrian service, about nineteen years ago — a 
 more gallant and amiable youth never lived.' 
 
 Pleasure revived through the dull look of obstinacy in the 
 father's eves. 
 
 ' He was, as you say, sir, a gallant, an amiable youth, once — 
 and he was my pride, and I loved him, too, once — but did not 
 you know I had another ? ' 
 
 ' No, sir, we did not — we are, you may perceive, totally 
 ignorant of your family and of your affairs — we have no con- 
 nexion whatever or knowledge of any of the St. Omars.' 
 
 ' I detest the sound of the name,' cried Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Oh, good ! good ! — Well ! well ! I beg your pardon, gentle- 
 men, a thousand times — I am a hasty, very hasty old man ; 
 but I have been harassed, persecuted, hunted by wretches, 
 who got a scent of my gold ; often in my rage I longed to 
 throw my treasure-bags to my pursuers, and bid them leave 
 me to die in peace. You have feelings, I see, both of you, 
 gentlemen ; excuse me, and bear with my temper.' 
 
 35 2
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Bear with you ! Much enforced, the best tempers will 
 emit a hasty spark,' said the count, looking at Lord Colambre, 
 who was now cool again ; and who, with a countenance full 
 of compassion, sat with his eyes fixed upon the poor — no, not 
 the poor, but the unhappy old man. 
 
 ' Yes, I had another son,' continued Mr. Reynolds, ' and 
 on him all my affections concentrated when I lost my eldest, 
 and for him I desired to preserve the estate which his mother 
 brought into my family. Since you know nothing of my affairs, 
 let me explain to you ; that estate was so settled, that it would 
 have gone to the child, even the daughter of my eldest son, if 
 there had been a legitimate child. But I knew there was no 
 marriage, and I held out firm to my opinion. " If there was 
 a marriage," said I, " show me the marriage certificate, and I 
 will acknowledge the marriage, and acknowledge the child ; " 
 but they could not, and I knew they could not ; and I kept 
 the estate for my darling boy,' cried the old gentleman, with 
 the exultation of successful positiveness again appearing strong 
 in his physiognomy ; but suddenly changing and relaxing, his 
 countenance fell, and he added, ' But now I have no darling 
 boy. What use all ! — all must go to the heir-at-law, or I must 
 will it to a stranger — a lady cf quality, who has just found 
 out she is my relation — God knows how — I'm no genealogist 
 — and sends me Irish cheese and Iceland moss, for my breakfast, 
 and her waiting-gentlewoman to namby-pamby me. Oh, I'm 
 sick of it all — see through it — wish I was blind — wish I had 
 a hiding-place, where flatterers could not find me — pursued, 
 chased — must change my lodgings again to-morrow — will, will 
 — I beg your pardon, gentlemen, again ; you were going to 
 tell me, sir, something more of my eldest son ; and how I 
 was led away from the subject, I don't know ; but I meant 
 only to have assured you that his memory was dear to me, 
 till I was so tormented about that unfortunate affair of his 
 pretended marriage, that at length I hated to hear him named ; 
 but the heir-at-law, at last, will triumph over me.' 
 
 ' No, my good sir, not if you triumph over yourself, and 
 do justice,' cried Lord Colambre ; ' if you listen to the 
 truth, which my friend will tell you, and if you will read and 
 believe the confirmation of it, under your son's own hand, in 
 this packet.' 
 
 ' His own hand indeed ! His seal — unbroken. But how — 
 
 353 2 A
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 when — where — why was it kept so long, and how came it 
 into your hands ?' 
 
 Count O'Halloran told Mr. Reynolds that the packet had 
 been given to him by Captain Reynolds on his deathbed ; 
 related the dying acknowledgment which Captain Reynolds 
 had made of his marriage ; and gave an account of the delivery 
 of the packet to the ambassador, who had promised to transmit 
 it faithfully. Lord Colambre told the manner in which it 
 had been mislaid, and at last recovered from among the 
 deceased ambassador's papers. The father still gazed at 
 the direction, and re-examined the seals. 
 
 ' My son's handwriting — my son's seals ! But where is 
 the certificate of the marriage?' repeated he; 'if it is 
 
 withinside of this packet, I have done great in but I am 
 
 convinced it never was a marriage. Yet I wish now it 
 could be proved— only, in that case, I have for years done 
 great ' 
 
 1 Won't you open the packet, sir ? ' said Lord Colambre. 
 Mr. Reynolds looked up at him with a look that said, ' I 
 don't clearly know what interest you have in all this.' But, 
 unable to speak, and his hands trembling so that he could 
 scarcely break the seals, he tore off the cover, laid the papers 
 before him, sat down, and took breath. Lord Colambre, 
 however impatient, had now too much humanity to hurry the 
 old gentleman ; he only ran for the spectacles, which he 
 espied on the chimney-piece, rubbed them bright, and held 
 them ready. Mr. Reynolds stretched his hand out for them, 
 put them on, and the first paper he opened was the certificate 
 of the marriage ; he read it aloud, and, putting it down, said — 
 
 ' Now I acknowledge the marriage. 1 always said, if 
 there is a marriage there must be a certificate. And you 
 see now there is a certificate — I acknowledge the marriage. 1 
 
 ' And now,' cried Lord Colambre, ' I am happy, positively 
 happy. Acknowledge your grand-daughter, sir — acknowledge 
 Miss Nugent.' 
 
 ' Acknowledge who, sir ? ' 
 
 'Acknowledge Miss Reynolds — your grand-daughter; I 
 ask no more — do what you will with your fortune.' 
 
 ' Oh, now I understand — I begin to understand this young 
 gentleman is in love — but where is my grand-daughter ? — 
 how shall I know she is my grand-daughter ? I have not 
 
 354
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 heard of her since she was an infant — I forgot her existence — 
 I have done her great injustice.' 
 
 ' She knows nothing of it, sir,' said Lord Colambre, who 
 now entered into a full explanation of Miss Nugent's history, 
 and of her connexion with his family, and of his own 
 attachment to her ; concluding the whole by assuring Mr. 
 Reynolds that his grand -daughter had every virtue under 
 heaven. 'And as to your fortune, sir, I know that she 
 will, as I do, say ' 
 
 ' No matter what she will say,' interrupted old Reynolds ; 
 ' where is she ? When I see her, I shall hear what she says. 
 Tell me where she is — let me see her. I long to see whether 
 there is any likeness to her poor father. Where is she ? Let 
 me see her immediately.' 
 
 1 She is one hundred and sixty miles oft", sir, at Buxton.' 
 
 ' Well, my lord, and what is a hundred and sixty miles ? I 
 suppose you think I can't stir from my chair, but you are 
 mistaken. I think nothing of a journey of a hundred and 
 sixty miles — I'm ready to set off to-morrow — this instant.' 
 
 Lord Colambre said, that he was sure Miss Reynolds would 
 obey her grandfather's slightest summons, as it was her duty to 
 do, and would be with him as soon as possible, if this would be 
 more agreeable to him. ' I will write to her instantly,' said his 
 lordship, 'if you will commission me.' 
 
 ' No, my lord, I do not commission — I will go — I think 
 nothing, I say, of a journey of a hundred and sixty miles — I'll 
 go — and set out to-morrow morning.' 
 
 Lord Colambre and the count, perfectly satisfied with the 
 result of their visit, now thought it best to leave old Reynolds 
 at liberty to rest himself, after so many strong and varied 
 feelings. They paid their parting compliments, settled the 
 time for the next day's journey, and were just going to quit 
 the room when Lord Colambre heard in the passage a well- 
 known voice — the voice of Mrs. Petito. 
 
 ' Oh no, my compliments, and my Lady Dashfort's best 
 compliments, and I will call again.' 
 
 1 No, no,' cried old Reynolds, pulling his bell ; ' I'll have no 
 calling again — I'll be hanged if I do ! Let her in now, and I'll 
 see her — Jack ! let in that woman now or never.' 
 
 ' The lady's gone, sir, out of the street door.' 
 
 ' After her, then — now or never, tell her.' 
 
 355
 
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 ' Sir, she was in a hackney coach. 1 
 
 Old Reynolds jumped up, and went to the window himself, 
 and, seeing the hackney coachman just turning, beckoned at 
 the window, and Mrs. Petito was set down again, and ushered 
 in by Jack, who announced her as — 
 
 'The lady, sir.' The only lady he had seen in that 
 house. 
 
 ' My dear Mr. Reynolds, I'm so obliged to you for letting 
 me in,' cried Mrs. Petito, adjusting her shawl in the passage, 
 and speaking in a voice and manner well mimicked after her 
 betters. ' You are so very good and kind, and I am so much 
 obliged to you.' 
 
 'You are not obliged to me, and I am neither good nor 
 kind,' said old Reynolds. 
 
 ' You strange man,' said Mrs. Petito, advancing graceful in 
 shawl drapery ; but she stopped short. ' My Lord Colambre 
 and Count O'Halloran, as I hope to be saved ! ' 
 
 ' I did not know Mrs. Petito was an acquaintance of yours, 
 gentlemen,' said Mr. Reynolds, smiling shrewdly. 
 
 Count O'Halloran was too polite to deny his acquaintance 
 with a lady who challenged it by thus naming him ; but he 
 had not the slightest recollection of her, though it seems he had 
 met her on the stairs when he visited Lady Dashfort at Kill- 
 patrickstown. Lord Colambre was ' indeed undeniably an old 
 acquaintance : ' and as soon as she had recovered from her first 
 natural start and vulgar exclamation, she with very easy 
 familiarity hoped ' My Lady Clonbrony, and my lord, and Miss 
 Nugent, and all her friends in the family, were well ;' and said, 
 4 she did not know whether she was to congratulate his lordship 
 or not upon Miss Broadhurst, my Lady Berryl's marriage, but 
 she should soon have to hope for his lordship's congratulations 
 for another marriage in her present family — Lady Isabel to 
 Colonel Heathcock, who has come in for a large portion, and 
 they are buying the wedding clothes — sights of clothes — and 
 the di'monds, this day ; and Lady Dashfort and my Lady 
 Isabel sent me especially, sir, to you, Mr. Reynolds, and to 
 tell you, sir, before anybody else ; and to hope the cheese 
 come safe up again at last ; and to ask whether the Iceland 
 moss agrees with your chocolate, and is palatable ; it's the 
 most diluent thing upon the universal earth, and the most 
 tonic and fashionable — the Dutches of Torcaster takes it 
 
 356
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 always for breakfast, and Lady St. James' too is quite a 
 convert, and I hear the Duke of V takes it too.' 
 
 ' And the devil may take it too, for anything that I care,' 
 said old Reynolds. 
 
 * Oh, my dear, dear sir ! you are so refractory a patient.' 
 
 ' I am no patient at all, ma'am, and have no patience either ; 
 I am as well as you are, or my Lady Dashfort either, and 
 hope, God willing, long to continue so.' 
 
 Mrs. Petito smiled aside at Lord Colambre, to mark her 
 perception of the man's strangeness. Then, in a cajoling voice, 
 addressing herself to the old gentleman — 
 
 ' Long, long, I hope, to continue so, if Heaven grants my 
 daily and nightly prayers, and my Lady Dashfort's also. So, 
 Mr. Reynolds, if the ladies' prayers are of any avail, you ought 
 to be purely, and I suppose ladies' prayers have the precedency 
 in efficacy. But it was not of prayers and deathbed affairs I 
 came commissioned to treat — not of burials, which Heaven 
 above forbid, but of weddings my diplomacy was to speak ; and 
 to premise my Lady Dashfort would have come herself in her 
 carriage, but is hurried out of her senses, and my Lady Isabel 
 could not in proper modesty ; so they sent me as their double, 
 to hope you, my dear Mr. Reynolds, who is one of the family 
 relations, will honour the wedding with your presence.' 
 
 1 It would be no honour, and they know that as well as I do,' 
 said the intractable Mr. Reynolds. ' It will be no advantage, 
 either ; but that they do not know as well as I do. Mrs. Petito, 
 to save you and your lady all trouble about me in future, please 
 to let my Lady Dashfort know that I have just received and 
 read the certificate of my son Captain Reynolds's marriage with 
 Miss St. Omar. I have acknowledged the marriage. Better 
 late than never ; and to-morrow morning, God willing, shall 
 set out with this young nobleman for Buxton, where I hope to 
 see, and intend publicly to acknowledge, my grand-daughter — 
 provided she will acknowledge me.' 
 
 i CriminiP exclaimed Mrs. Petito, 'what new turns are 
 here ! Well, sir, I shall tell my lady of the metamorphoses that 
 have taken place, though by what magic (as I have not the 
 honour to deal in the black art) I can't guess. But, since it 
 seems annoying and inopportune, I shall take my finale, and 
 shall thus have a verbal P.P.C. — as you are leaving town, it 
 seems, for Buxton so early in the morning. My Lord Colambre, 
 
 357
 
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 if I see rightly into a millstone, as I hope and believe I do on 
 the present occasion, I have to congratulate your lordship 
 (haven't I ?) upon something like a succession, or a windfall, in 
 this denewment. And I beg you'll make my humble respects 
 acceptable to the ci-devant Miss Grace Nugent that was ; and I 
 won't derrogate her by any other name in the interregnum, as I 
 am persuaded it will only be a temporary name, scarce worth 
 assuming, except for the honour of the public adoption ; and that 
 will, I'm confident, be soon exchanged for a viscount's title, or I 
 have no sagacity nor sympathy. I hope I don't (pray don't let 
 me) put you to the blush, my lord.' 
 
 Lord Colambre would not have let her, if he could have 
 helped it. 
 
 ' Count O'Halloran, your most obedient ! I had the honour 
 of meeting you at Killpatrickstown,' said Mrs. Petito, backing 
 to the door, and twitching her shawl. She stumbled, nearly 
 fell down, over the large dog — caught by the door, and recovered 
 herself. Hannibal rose and shook his ears. ' Poor fellow ! you 
 are of my acquaintance too.' She would have stroked his head ; 
 but Hannibal walked off indignant, and so did she. 
 
 Thus ended certain hopes ; for Mrs. Petito had conceived 
 that her diplomacy might be turned to account ; that in her 
 character of an ambassadress, as Lady Dashfort's double, by 
 the aid of Iceland moss in chocolate, flattery properly adminis- 
 tered ; that, by bearing with all her dear Mr. Reynolds's 
 oddncsses and roughnesses, she might in time — that is to say, 
 before he made a new will — become his dear Mrs. Petito ; or 
 (for stranger things have happened and do happen every day) 
 his dear Mrs. Reynolds ! Mrs. Petito, however, was good at 
 a retreat ; and she flattered herself that at least nothing of 
 this underplot had appeared ; and at all events she secured 
 by her services in this embassy, the long -looked -for object 
 of her ambition, Lady Dashfort's scarlet velvet gown — ' not 
 yet a thread the worse for the wear ! ' One cordial look at 
 this comforted her for the loss of her expected octogenaire j 
 and she proceeded to discomfit her lady, by repeating the 
 message with which strange old Mr. Reynolds had charged 
 her. — So ended all Lady Dashfort's hopes of his fortune. 
 
 Since the death of his youngest son, she had been indefati- 
 gable in her attentions, and sanguine in her hopes ; the 
 disappointment affected both her interest and her pride, as an 
 
 35*
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 intrigante. It was necessary, however, to keep her feelings 
 to herself; for if Heathcock should hear anything of the 
 matter before the articles were signed, he might ' be off ! ' — so 
 she put him and Lady Isabel into her coach directly — drove to 
 Gray's, to make sure at all events of the jewels. 
 
 In the meantime Count O'Halloran and Lord Colambre, 
 delighted with the result of their visit, took leave of Mr. 
 Reynolds, after having arranged the journey, and appointed 
 the hour for setting off the next day. Lord Colambre pro- 
 posed to call upon Mr. Reynolds in the evening, and introduce 
 his father, Lord Clonbrony ; but Mr. Reynolds said — 
 
 ' No, no ! I'm not ceremonious. I have given you proofs 
 enough of that, I think, in the short time we've been already 
 acquainted. Time enough to introduce your father to me when 
 we are in a carriage, going our journey ; then we can talk, and 
 get acquainted ; but merely to come this evening in a hurry, 
 and say, " Lord Clonbrony, Mr. Reynolds ; — Mr. Reynolds, 
 Lord Clonbrony," and then bob our two heads at one another, 
 and scrape one foot back, and away ! — where's the use of that 
 nonsense at my time of life, or at any time of life ? No, no ! 
 
 we have enough to do without that, I daresay. Good 
 
 morning to you, Count O'Halloran ! I thank you heartily. 
 From the first moment I saw you, I liked you ; lucky too that 
 you brought your dog with you ! 'Twas Hannibal made me 
 first let you in ; I saw him over the top of the blind. — Hannibal, 
 my good fellow ! I'm more obliged to you than you can guess.' 
 
 1 So are we all,' said Lord Colambre. 
 
 Hannibal was well patted, and then they parted. In 
 returning home they met Sir James Brooke. 
 
 ' I told you,' said Sir James, ' I should be in London almost 
 as soon as you. Have you found old Reynolds ? ' 
 
 ' Just come from him.' 
 
 ' How does your business prosper ? I hope as well as 
 mine.' 
 
 A history of all that had passed up to the present moment 
 was given, and hearty congratulations received. 
 
 1 Where are you going now, Sir James ? — cannot you come 
 with us ? ' said Lord Colambre and the count. 
 
 'Impossible,' replied Sir James; — 'but, perhaps, you can 
 come with me — I'm going to Gray's, to give some old family 
 diamonds, either to be new set or exchanged. Count O'Halloran, 
 
 359
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 I know you are a judge of these things ; pray, come and give 
 me your opinion.' 
 
 ' Better consult your bride elect ! ' said the count. 
 
 ' No ; she knows little of the matter — and cares less,' replied 
 Sir James. 
 
 ' Not so this bride elect, or I mistake her much,' said the 
 count, as they passed by the window and saw Lady Isabel, 
 who, with Lady Dashfort, had been holding consultation deep 
 with the jeweller ; and Heathcock, playing personnage muet. 
 
 Lady Dashfort, who had always, as old Reynolds expressed 
 it, ' her head upon her shoulders ' — presence of mind where her 
 interests were concerned — ran to the door before the count and 
 Lord Colambre could enter, giving a hand to each — as if they 
 had all parted the best friends in the world. 
 
 ' How do ? how do ? — Give you joy ! give me joy ! and all 
 that. But mind ! not a word,' said she, laying her finger upon 
 her lips — ' not a word before Heathcock of old Reynolds, or 
 of the best part of the old fool, — his fortune ! ' 
 
 The gentlemen bowed, in sign of submission to her lady- 
 ship's commands ; and comprehended that she feared Heath- 
 cock might be off, if the best part of his bride (her fortune, or 
 her expectations) were lowered in value or in prospect. 
 
 ' How low is she reduced,' whispered Lord Colambre, c when 
 such a husband is thought a prize — and to be secured by a 
 manoeuvre ! ' He sighed. 
 
 ' Spare that generous sigh ! ' said Sir James Brooke ; ' it is 
 wasted.' 
 
 Lady Isabel, as they approached, turned from a mirror, at 
 which she was trying on a diamond crescent. Her face 
 clouded at sight of Count O'Halloran and Lord Colambre, and 
 grew dark as hatred when she saw Sir James Brooke. She 
 walked away to the farther end of the shop, and asked one of 
 the shopmen the price of a diamond necklace which lay 
 upon the counter. 
 
 The man said, ' He really did not know ; it belonged to 
 Lady Oranmore ; it had just been new set for one of her lady- 
 ship's daughters, who is going to be married to Sir James 
 Brooke — one of the gentlemen, my lady, who are just come in.' 
 
 Then, calling to his master, he asked him the price of the 
 necklace ; he named the value, which was considerable. 
 
 ' I really thought Lady Oranmore and her daughters were 
 360
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 vastly too philosophical to think of diamonds,' said Lady 
 Isabel to her mother, with a sort of sentimental sneer in her 
 voice and countenance. ' But it is some comfort to me to find, 
 in these pattern-women, philosophy and love do not so wholly 
 engross the heart, that they " feel every vanity in fondness 
 lost." ' 
 
 "Twould be difficult, in some cases,' thought many 
 present. 
 
 "Pon honour, di'monds are cursed expensive things, I 
 know !' said Heathcock. ' But, be that as it may,' whispered 
 he to the lady, though loud enough to be heard by others, 
 ' I've laid a damned round wager, that no woman's diamonds 
 married this winter, under a countess, in Lon'on, shall 
 eclipse Lady Isabel Heathcock's ! — and Mr. Gray here's to be 
 judge.' 
 
 Lady Isabel paid for this promise one of her sweetest 
 smiles ; with one of those smiles which she had formerly 
 bestowed upon Lord Colambre, and which he had once fancied 
 expressed so much sensibility — such discriminative and deli- 
 cate application. 
 
 Our hero felt so much contempt, that he never wasted 
 another sigh of pity for her degradation. Lady Dashfort came 
 up to him as he was standing alone ; and, whilst the count 
 and Sir James were settling about the diamonds — 
 
 ' My Lord Colambre,' said she, in a low voice, ' I know 
 your thoughts, and I could moralise as well as you, if I did 
 not prefer laughing — you are right enough ; and so am I, and 
 so is Isabel ; we are all right. For look here : women have 
 not always the liberty of choice, and therefore they can't be 
 expected to have always the power of refusal.' 
 
 The mother, satisfied with her convenient optimism, got 
 into her carriage with her daughter, her daughter's diamonds, 
 and her precious son-in-law, her daughter's companion for 
 life. 
 
 ' The more I see,' said Count O'Halloran to Lord Colambre, 
 as they left the shop, ' the more I find reason to congratulate 
 you upon your escape, my dear lord.' 
 
 ' I owe it not to my own wit or wisdom,' said Lord 
 Colambre; 'but much to love, and much to friendship,' added 
 he, turning to Sir James Brooke ; ' here was the friend who 
 early warned me against the siren's voice ; who, before I knew 
 
 361
 
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 the Lady Isabel, told me what I have since found to be true, 
 that 
 
 ' Two passions alternately govern her fate — 
 Her business is love, but her pleasure is hate.' 
 
 ' That is dreadfully severe, Sir James,' said Count O'Hall- 
 oran ; 'but I am afraid it is just.' 
 
 1 1 am sure it is just, or I would not have said it,' replied 
 Sir James Brooke. ' For the foibles of the sex, I hope, I have 
 as much indulgence as any man, and for the errors of passion 
 as much pity ; but I cannot repress the indignation, the 
 abhorrence I feel against women, cold and vain, who use their 
 wit and their charms only to make others miserable.' 
 
 Lord Colambre recollected at this moment Lady Isabel's 
 look and voice, when she declared that ' she would let her little 
 finger be cut off to purchase the pleasure of inflicting on Lady 
 de Cresey, for one hour, the torture of jealousy.' 
 
 ' Perhaps,' continued Sir James Brooke, ' now that I am 
 going to marry into an Irish family, I may feel, with peculiar 
 energy, disapprobation of this mother and daughter on another 
 account ; but you, Lord Colambre, will do me the justice to 
 recollect that, before I had any personal interest in the country, 
 I expressed, as a general friend to Ireland, antipathy to those 
 who return the hospitality they received from a warm-hearted 
 people, by publicly setting the example of elegant sentimental 
 hypocrisy, or daring disregard of decorum, by privately 
 endeavouring to destroy the domestic peace of families, on 
 which, at last, public as well as private virtue and happiness 
 depend. I do rejoice, my dear Lord Colambre, to hear you 
 say that I had any share in saving you from the siren ; and 
 now, I will never speak of these ladies more. I am sorry you 
 cannot stay in town to see — but why should I be sorry — we 
 shall meet again, I trust, and I shall introduce you ; and you, 
 I hope, will introduce me to a very different charmer. Fare- 
 well ! — you have my warm good wishes wherever you go.' 
 
 Sir James turned off quickly to the street in which Lady 
 Oranmore lived, and Lord Colambre had not time to tell him 
 that he knew and admired his intended bride. Count 
 O'Halloran promised to do this for him. 'And now,' said 
 the good count, ' I am to take leave of you ; and I assure you 
 I do it with so much reluctance that nothing less than positive 
 
 362
 
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 engagements to stay in town would prevent me from setting 
 off with you to-morrow ; but I shall be soon, very soon, at 
 liberty to return to Ireland ; and Clonbrony Castle, if you will 
 give me leave, I will see before I see Halloran Castle.' 
 
 Lord Colambre joyfully thanked his friend for this promise. 
 
 ' Nay, it is to indulge myself. I long to see you happy — 
 long to behold the choice of such a heart as yours. Pray do 
 not steal a march upon me — let me know in time. I will 
 
 leave everything — even the siege of for your wedding. 
 
 But I trust I shall be in time.' 
 
 1 Assuredly you will, my dear count ; if ever that 
 wedding ' 
 
 ' If,' repeated the count. 
 
 ' If,' repeated Lord Colambre. ' Obstacles which, when we 
 last parted, appeared to me invincible, prevented my having 
 ever even attempted to make an impression on the heart of the 
 woman I love ; and if you knew her, count, as well as I do, 
 you would know that her love could "not unsought be won."' 
 
 ' Of that I cannot doubt, or she would not be your choice ; 
 but when her love is sought, we have every reason to hope,' 
 said the count, smiling, ' that it may, because it ought to be 
 won by tried honour and affection. I only require to be left in 
 hope.' 
 
 ' Well, I leave you hope,' said Lord Colambre ; ' Miss 
 Nugent — Miss Reynolds, I should say, has been in the habit of 
 considering a union with me as impossible ; my mother early 
 instilled this idea into her mind. Miss Nugent thought that 
 duty forbad her to think of me ; she told me so : I have seen 
 it in all her conduct and manners. The barriers of habit, the 
 ideas of duty, cannot, ought not, to be thrown down or 
 suddenly changed in a well-regulated female mind. And you, 
 I am sure, know enough of the best female hearts, to be aware 
 that time ' 
 
 1 Well, well, let this dear good charmer take her own time, 
 provided there's none given to affectation, or prudery, or 
 coquetry ; and from all these, of course, she must be free ; and 
 of course I must be content. Adieu an revoir.' 
 
 3°3
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 As Lord Colambre was returning home, he was overtaken by 
 Sir Terence O'Fay. 
 
 ' Well, my lord,' cried Sir Terence, out of breath, ' you 
 have led me a pretty dance all over the town ; here's a letter 
 somewhere down in my safe pocket for you, which has cost 
 me trouble enough. Phoo ! where is it now ? — it's from Miss 
 Nugent,' said he, holding up the letter. The direction to 
 Grosvenor Square, London, had been scratched out ; and it 
 had been re-directed by Sir Terence to the Lord Viscount 
 Colambre, at Sir James Brooke's, Bart., Brookwood, Hunting- 
 donshire, or elsewhere, with speed. ' But the more haste the 
 worse speed ; for away it went to Brookwood, Huntingdonshire, 
 where I knew, if anywhere, you was to be found ; but, as fate 
 and the post would have it, there the letter went coursing after 
 you, while you were running round, and back and forwards, 
 and everywhere, I understand, to Toddrington and Wrestham, 
 and where not, through all them English places, where there's 
 no cross-post ; so I took it for granted that it found its way to 
 the dead-letter office, or was sticking up across a pane in the 
 d — d postmaster's window at Huntingdon, for the whole 
 town to see, and it a love-letter, and some puppy to claim it, 
 under false pretence ; and you all the time without it, and it 
 might breed a coolness betwixt you and Miss Nugent.' 
 
 ' But, my dear Sir Terence, give me the letter now you 
 have me.' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear lord, if you knew what a race I have had, 
 missing you here by five minutes, and there by five seconds — 
 but I have you at last, and you have it — and I'm paid this 
 minute for all I liquidated of my substance, by the pleasure I 
 have in seeing you crack the seal and read it. But take care 
 
 3 6 4
 
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 you don't tumble over the orange woman — orange barrows are 
 a great nuisance, when one's studying a letter in the streets of 
 London, or the metropolis. But never heed ; stick to my arm, 
 and I'll guide you, like a blind man, safe through the thick of 
 them.' 
 
 Miss Nugent's letter, which Lord Colambre read in spite 
 of the jostling of passengers, and the incessant talking of Sir 
 Terence, was as follows : — 
 
 Let me not be the cause of banishing you from your home and 
 your country, where you would do so much good, and make so many 
 happy. Let me not be the cause of your breaking your promise to 
 your mother ; of your disappointing my dear aunt, so cruelly, who has 
 complied with all our wishes, and who sacrifices, to oblige us, her 
 favourite tastes. How could she ever be happy in Ireland — how 
 could Clonbrony Castle be a home to her, without her son ? If you 
 take away all she had of amusement and pleasure, as it is called, are 
 not you bound to give her, in their stead, that domestic happiness, 
 which she can enjoy only with you, and by your means ? If, instead 
 of living with her, you go into the army, she will be in daily, nightly 
 anxiety and alarm about you ; and her son will, instead of being a 
 comfort, be a source of torment to her. 
 
 I will hope that you will do now, as you have always hitherto 
 done, on every occasion where I have seen you act, what is right, and 
 just, and kind. Come here on the day you promised my aunt you 
 would ; before that time I shall be in Cambridgeshire, with my friend 
 Lady Berryl ; she is so good as to come to Buxton for me — I shall 
 remain with her, instead of returning to Ireland. I have explained my 
 
 reasons to my dear aunt Could I have any concealment from her, 
 
 to whom, from my earliest childhood, I owe everything that kindness 
 and affection could give ? She is satisfied — she consents to my living 
 henceforward with Lady Berryl. Let me have the pleasure of seeing, 
 by your conduct, that you approve of mine. — Your affectionate cousin 
 and friend, Grace Nugent. 
 
 This letter, as may be imagined by those who, like him, are 
 capable of feeling honourable and generous conduct, gave our 
 hero exquisite pleasure. Poor, good-natured Sir Terence 
 O'Fay enjoyed his lordship's delight ; and forgot himself so 
 completely, that he never even inquired whether Lord Colambre 
 had thought of an affair on which he had spoken to him some 
 time before, and which materially concerned Sir Terence's 
 interest. The next morning, when the carriage was at the 
 door, and Sir Terence was just taking leave of his friend Lord 
 Clonbrony, and actually in tears, wishing them all manner of 
 
 3 6 5
 
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 happiness, though he said there was none left now in London, 
 or the wide world, even, for him — Lord Colambre went up to 
 him, and said, ' Sir Terence, you have never inquired whether 
 I have done your business ? ' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, I'm not thinking of that now — time enough 
 by the post — I can write after you ; but my thoughts won't 
 turn for me to business now — no matter.' 
 
 'Your business is done,' replied Lord Colambre. 
 
 ' Then I wonder how you could think of it, with all you 
 had upon your mind and heart. When anything's upon my 
 heart, good morning to my head, it's not worth a lemon. 
 Good-bye to you, and thank you kindly, and all happiness 
 attend you.' 
 
 'Good-bye to you, Sir Terence O'Fay,' said Lord Clon- 
 brony ; ' and, since it's so ordered, I must live without you.' 
 
 ' Oh ! you'll live better without me, my lord ; I am not 
 a good liver, I know, nor the best of all companions for a 
 nobleman, young or old ; and now you'll be rich, and not 
 put to your shifts and your wits, what would I have to do 
 for you? — Sir Terence O'Fay, you know, was only the poo}- 
 nobleman 's friend, and you'll never want to call upon him 
 again, thanks to your jewel, your Pitt's -di'mond of a son 
 there. So we part here, and depend upon it you're better 
 without me — that's all my comfort, or my heart would break. 
 The carriage is waiting this long time, and this young lover's 
 itching to be off. God bless you both ! — that's my last 
 word.' 
 
 They called in Red Lion Square, punctual to the moment, 
 on old Mr. Reynolds, but his window- shutters were shut ; 
 he had been seized in the night with a violent fit of the 
 gout, which, as he said, held him fast by the leg. ' But here,' 
 said he, giving Lord Colambre a letter, ' here's what will 
 do your business without me. Take this written acknow- 
 ledgment I have penned for you, and give my grand-daughter 
 her father's letter to read — it would touch a heart of stone — 
 touched mine — wish I could drag the mother back out 
 of her grave, to do her justice — all one now. You see at 
 last I'm not a suspicious rascal, however, for I don't suspect 
 you of palming a false grand-daughter upon me.' 
 
 ' Will you,' said Lord Colambre, ' give your grand-daughter 
 leave to come up to town to you, sir ? You would satisfy 
 
 366
 
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 yourself, at least, as to what resemblance she may bear to 
 her father ; Miss Reynolds will come instantly, and she 
 will nurse you.' 
 
 'No, no; I won't have her come. If she comes, I won't 
 see her — shan't begin by nursing me — not selfish. As soon 
 as I get rid of this gout, I shall be my own man, and young 
 again, and I'll soon be after you across the sea, that shan't 
 stop me ; I'll come to — what's the name of your place in 
 Ireland ? — and see what likeness I can find to her poor 
 father in this grand-daughter of mine, that you puffed so 
 finely yesterday. And let me see whether she will wheedle 
 me as finely as Mrs. Petito would. Don't get ready your 
 marriage settlements, do you hear, till you have seen my 
 will, which I shall sign at — what's the name of your place ? 
 Write it down there ; there's pen and ink ; and leave me, for 
 the twinge is coming, and I shall roar.' 
 
 'Will you permit me, sir, to leave my own servant with 
 you to take care of you ? I can answer for his attention and 
 fidelity.' 
 
 ' Let me see his face, and I'll tell you.' Lord Colambre's 
 servant was summoned. 
 
 ' Yes, I like his face. God bless you ! — Leave me.' 
 
 Lord Colambre gave his servant a charge to bear with Mr. 
 Reynolds's rough manner and temper, and to pay the poor 
 old gentleman every possible attention. Then our hero pro- 
 ceeded with his father on his journey, and on this journey 
 nothing happened worthy of note. On his first perusal of the 
 letter from Grace, Lord Colambre had feared that she would 
 have left Buxton with Lady Berryl before he could reach it ; 
 but, upon recollection, he hoped that the few lines he had 
 written, addressed to his mother and Miss Nugent, with the 
 assurance that he should be with them on Wednesday, would 
 be sufficient to show her that some great change had happened, 
 and consequently sufficient to prevent her from quitting her 
 aunt, till she could know whether such a separation would be 
 necessary. He argued wisely, more wisely than Grace had 
 reasoned ; for, notwithstanding this note, she would have left 
 Buxton before his arrival, but for Lady Berryl's strength of 
 mind, and positive determination not to set out with her till 
 Lord Colambre should arrive to explain. In the interval, poor 
 Grace was, indeed, in an anxious state of suspense ; and her 
 
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 uncertainty, whether she was doing right or wrong, by staying 
 to see Lord Colambre, tormented her most. 
 
 'My dear, you cannot help yourself; be quiet,' said Lady 
 Berryl ; ' I will take the whole upon my conscience ; and I 
 hope my conscience may never have anything worse to answer 
 for.' 
 
 Grace was the first person who, from her window, saw Lord 
 Colambre, the instant the carriage drove to the door. She ran 
 to her friend Lady Berryl's apartment — 
 
 ' He is come ! — Now, take me away ! ' 
 
 ' Not yet, my sweet friend ! Lie down upon this sofa, if 
 you please ; and keep yourself tranquil, whilst I go and see 
 what you ought to do ; and depend upon me for a true friend, 
 in whose mind, as in your own, duty is the first object.' 
 
 ' I depend on you entirely,' said Grace, sinking down on the 
 sofa ; ' and you see I obey you ! ' 
 
 ' Many thanks to you for lying down, when you can't stand.' 
 
 Lady Berryl went to Lady Clonbrony's apartment ; she was 
 met by Sir Arthur. 
 
 1 Come, my love ! come quick ! — Lord Colambre is arrived.' 
 
 ' I know it ; and does he go to Ireland ? Speak instantly, 
 that I may tell Grace Nugent.' 
 
 ' You can tell her nothing yet, my love ; for we know nothing. 
 Lord Colambre will not say a word till you come ; but I know, 
 by his countenance, that he has good and extraordinary news.' 
 
 They passed rapidly along the passage to Lady Clonbrony's 
 room. 
 
 ' Oh, my dear, dear Lady Berryl, come ! or I shall die with 
 impatience,' cried Lady Clonbrony, in a voice and manner 
 between laughing and crying. 'There, now you have con- 
 gratulated, are very happy, and very glad, and all that — now, 
 for mercy's sake, sit down, Lord Clonbrony ! for Heaven's sake, 
 sit down — beside me here — or anywhere ! Now, Colambre, 
 begin ; and tell us all at once ! ' 
 
 But as nothing is so tedious as a twice-told tale, Lord 
 Colambre's narrative need not here be repeated. He began 
 with Count O'Halloran's visit, immediately after Lady Clonbrony 
 had left London ; and went through the history of the dis- 
 covery that Captain Reynolds was the husband of Miss St. 
 Omar, and the father of Grace ; the dying acknowledgment of 
 his marriage ; the packet delivered by Count O'Halloran to 
 
 368
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 the careless ambassador — how recovered, by the assistance of 
 
 
 
 ' •' Vts, get up '. get up '. my own Grace, an.i be surprised." ' 
 
 his executor, Sir James Brooke ; the travels from Wrestham 
 
 3 6 9 2 B
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 to Toddrington, and thence to Red Lion Square ; the interview 
 with old Reynolds, and its final result ; all was related as 
 succinctly as the impatient curiosity of Lord Colambre's 
 auditors could desire. 
 
 ' Oh, wonder upon wonder ! and joy upon joy ! ' cried Lady 
 Clonbrony. ' So my darling Grace is as legitimate as I am, 
 and an heiress after all. Where is she? where is she? In 
 your room, Lady Berryl ? — Oh, Colambre ! why wouldn't you 
 let her be by ? — Lady Berryl, do you know, he would not let me 
 send for her, though she was the person of all others most 
 concerned ! ! 
 
 ' For that very reason, ma'am ; and that Lord Colambre 
 was quite right, I am sure you must be sensible, when you 
 recollect, that Grace has no idea that she is not the daughter 
 of Mr. Nugent ; she has no suspicion that the breath of blame 
 ever lighted upon her mother. This part of the story cannot 
 be announced to her with too much caution ; and, indeed, her 
 mind has been so much harassed and agitated, and she is at 
 present so far from strong, that great delicacy ' 
 
 ' True! very true, Lady Berryl,' interrupted Lady Clonbrony; 
 ' and I'll be as delicate as you please about it afterwards ; but, 
 in the first and foremost place, I must tell her the best part of 
 the story — that she's an heiress, madam, never killed anybody!' 
 So, darting through all opposition, Lady Clonbrony made 
 her way into the room where Grace was lying — ' Yes, get up ! 
 get up ! my own Grace, and be surprised — well you may ! — you 
 are an heiress, after all.' 
 
 'Am I, my dear aunt ?' said Grace. 
 
 ' True, as I'm Lady Clonbrony — and a very great heiress — 
 and no more Colambre's cousin than Lady Berryl here. So 
 now begin and love him as fast as you please — I give my 
 consent — and here he is.' 
 
 Lady Clonbrony turned to her son, who just appeared at 
 the door. 
 
 ' Oh, mother ! what have you done ? ' 
 
 ' What have I done ? ' cried Lady Clonbrony, following her 
 son's eyes: — 'Lord bless me! — Grace fainted dead — Lady 
 Berryl ? Oh, what have I done ? My dear Lady Berryl, what 
 shall we do ? ' 
 
 ' There ! her colour's coming again,' said Lord Clonbrony ; 
 ' come away, my dear Lady Clonbrony, for the present, and so 
 
 37°
 
 
 *p~ 
 
 f- 
 
 I 
 
 -.:- 
 
 <*/■ 
 
 •r 
 
 1 " />«/ ww, «u> s&VTWWg ft * c, jii/</ £iW Colambre, kneeling beside her.'
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 will I — though I long to talk to the darling girl myself; but 
 she is not equal to it yet.' 
 
 When Grace came to herself, she first saw Lady Berryl 
 leaning over her, and, raising herself a little, she said — 
 
 ' What has happened ? — I don't know yet — I don't know 
 whether I am happy or not.' 
 
 Then seeing Lord Colambre, she sat quite upright. ' You 
 received my letter, cousin, I hope ? — Do you go to Ireland 
 with my aunt ? ' 
 
 ' Yes ; and with you, I hope, my beloved friend,' said 
 Colambre ; ' you once assured me that I had such a share 
 of your esteem and affection, that the idea of my accompanying 
 you to Ireland was not disagreeable to you ; you flattered me 
 that I formed part of your agreeable associations- with home.' 
 
 ' Yes — sit down by me, won't you, my dear Lady Berryl — 
 but then I considered you as my cousin, Lord Colambre, and I 
 thought you felt the same towards me ; but now ' 
 
 ' But now, my charming Grace,' said Lord Colambre, 
 kneeling beside her, and taking her hand, ' no invincible 
 obstacle opposes my passion — no i?ivincible obstacle, did I 
 say ? let me hope that I may say no obstacle, but what 
 depends on the change in the nature of your sentiments. 
 You heard my mother's consent ; you saw her joy.' 
 
 ' I scarcely knew what I heard or saw,' said Grace, blushing 
 deeply, ' or what I now see and hear ; but of this I feel secure, 
 before I comprehend the mystery, before you explain to me 
 the causes of your — change of conduct, that you have 
 never been actuated by caprice, but governed by wise and 
 honourable motives. As to my going to Ireland, or remaining 
 with Lady Berryl, she has heard all the circumstances — she is 
 my friend and yours — a better friend cannot be ; to her I 
 appeal — she will decide for me what I ought to do ; she 
 promised to take me from hence instantly, if I ought to go.' 
 
 ' I did ; and I would do so without hesitation, if any duty 
 or any prudence required it. But, after having heard all the 
 circumstances, I can only tell you that I willingly resign the 
 pleasure of your company.' 
 
 ' But tell her, my dear Lady Berryl,' said Lord Colambre, 
 ' excellent friend as you are — explain to her you can, better 
 than any of us, all that is to be known ; let her know my whole 
 conduct, and then let her decide for herself, and I shall submit 
 
 372
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 to her decision. It is difficult, my dear Grace, to restrain the 
 expression of love, of passion, such as I feel ; but I have some 
 power over myself — you know it — and this I can promise you, that 
 your affections shall be free as air — that no wishes of friends, 
 no interference, nothing but your own unbiassed choice will I 
 allow, if my life depended upon it, to operate in my favour. 
 Be assured, my dearest Grace,' added he, smiling as he 
 retired, ' you shall have time to know whether you are happy 
 or not.' 
 
 The moment he had left the room, she threw herself into 
 the arms of her friend, and her heart, oppressed with various 
 feelings, was relieved by tears — a species of relief to which she 
 was not habituated. 
 
 ' I am happy,' said she ; ' but what was the invincible 
 obstacle ? — what was the meaning of my aunt's words ? — and 
 what was the cause of her joy ? Explain all this to me, my 
 dear friend ; for I am still as if I were in a dream.' 
 
 With all the delicacy which Lady Clonbrony deemed 
 superfluous Lady Berryl explained. Nothing could surpass 
 the astonishment of Grace, on first learning that Mr. Nugent 
 was not her father. When she was told of the stigma that had 
 been cast on her birth ; the suspicions, the disgrace, to which 
 her mother had been subjected for so many years — that mother, 
 whom she had so loved and respected ; who had, with such 
 care, instilled into the mind of her daughter the principles of 
 virtue and religion ; that mother whom Grace had always seen 
 the example of every virtue she taught ; on whom her daughter 
 never suspected that the touch of blame, the breath of scandal, 
 could rest — Grace could express her sensations only by 
 repeating, in tones of astonishment, pathos, indignation — ' My 
 mother ! — my mother ! — my mother ! ' 
 
 For some time she was incapable of attending to any other 
 idea, or of feeling any other sensations. When her mind was 
 able to admit the thought, her friend soothed her, by recalling 
 the expressions of Lord Colambre's love — the struggle by which 
 he had been agitated, when he fancied a union with her 
 opposed by an invincible obstacle. 
 
 Grace sighed, and acknowledged that, in prudence, it ought 
 to have been an invincible obstacle — she admired the firmness 
 of his decision, the honour with which he had acted towards 
 her. One moment she exclaimed. ' Then, if I had been the 
 
 373
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 daughter of a mother who had conducted herself ill, he never 
 would have trusted me ! ' 
 
 The next moment she recollected, with pleasure, the joy she 
 had just seen in his eyes — the affection, the passion, that spoke 
 in every word and look : then dwelt upon the sober certainty, 
 that all obstacles were removed. 
 
 ' And no duty opposes my loving him ! And my aunt 
 wishes it ! my kind aunt ! And I may think of him. — You, 
 my best friend, would not assure me of this if you were not 
 certain of the truth. — Oh, how can I thank you for all your 
 kindness, and for that best of all kindness, sympathy. You 
 see, your calmness, your strength of mind supports and 
 tranquillises me. I would rather have heard all I have just 
 learnt from you than from any other person living. I could 
 not have borne it from any one else. No one else knows 
 my mind so perfectly — yet my aunt is very good, — and my 
 dear uncle ! should not I go to him ? — But he is not my 
 uncle, she is not my aunt. I cannot bring myself to think 
 that they are not my relations, and that I am nothing to 
 them.' 
 
 ' You may be everything to them, my dear Grace,' said 
 Lady Berryl ; ' whenever you please, you may be their 
 daughter.' 
 
 Grace blushed, and smiled, and sighed, and was consoled. 
 But then she recollected her new relation Mr. Reynolds, her 
 grandfather, whom she had never seen, who had for years 
 disowned her — treated her mother with injustice. She could 
 scarcely think of him with complaisancy ; yet, when his age, 
 his sufferings, his desolate state, were represented, she pitied 
 him ; and, faithful to her strong sense of duty, would have 
 gone instantly to offer him every assistance and attention in 
 her power. Lady Berryl assured her that Mr. Reynolds had 
 positively forbidden her going to him ; and that he had assured 
 Lord Colambre he would not see her if she went to him. 
 After such rapid and varied emotions, poor Grace desired 
 repose, and her friend took care that it should be secured to 
 her for the remainder of the day. 
 
 In the meantime, Lord Clonbrony had kindly and judiciously 
 employed his lady in a discussion about certain velvet furniture, 
 which Grace had painted for the drawing-room at Clonbrony 
 Castle. 
 
 374
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 In Lady Clonbrony's mind, as in some bad paintings, there 
 was no keeping ; all objects, great and small, were upon the 
 same level. 
 
 The moment her son entered the room, her ladyship 
 exclaimed — 
 
 ' Everything pleasant at once ! Here's your father tells me, 
 Grace's velvet furniture's all packed ; really, Soho's the best 
 man in the world of his kind, and the cleverest — and so, after 
 all, my dear Colambre, as I always hoped and prophesied, at 
 last you will marry an heiress.' 
 
 'And Terry,' said Lord Clonbrony, ' will win his wager from 
 Mordicai.' 
 
 ' Terry ! ' repeated Lady Clonbrony, ' that odious Terry ! — 
 I hope, my lord, that he is not to be one of my comforts in 
 Ireland.' 
 
 ' No, my dear mother ; he is much better provided for 
 than we could have expected. One of my father's first objects 
 was to prevent him from being any encumbrance to you. We 
 consulted him as to the means of making him happy ; and the 
 knight acknowledged that he had long been casting a sheep's 
 eye at a little snug place, that will soon be open, in his native 
 country — the chair of assistant barrister at the sessions. 
 "Assistant barrister!" said my father; "but, my dear Terry, 
 you have all your life been evading the laws, and very frequently 
 breaking the peace ; do you think this has qualified you 
 peculiarly for being a guardian of the laws ? " Sir Terence 
 replied, " Yes, sure ; set a thief to catch a thief is no bad maxim. 
 And did not Mr. Colquhoun, the Scotchman, get himself made 
 a great justice, by his making all the world as wise as himself, 
 about thieves of all sorts, by land and by water, and in the air 
 too, where he detected the mud-larks ? — And is not Barrington 
 chief-justice of Botany Bay ? " 
 
 ' My father now began to be seriously alarmed, lest Sir 
 Terence should insist upon his using his interest to make him 
 an assistant barrister. He was not aware that five years' 
 practice at the bar was a necessary accomplishment for this 
 office ; when, fortunately for all parties, my good friend, Count 
 O'Halloran, helped us out of the difficulty, by starting an idea 
 full of practical justice. A literary friend of the count's had 
 been for some time promised a lucrative situation under 
 Government ; but, unfortunately, he was a man of so much 
 
 375
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 merit and ability, that they could not find employment for him 
 at home, and they gave him a commission, I should rather say 
 a contract, abroad, for supplying the army with Hungarian 
 horses. Now the gentleman had not the slightest skill in horse- 
 flesh ; and, as Sir Terence is a complete jockey, the count 
 observed that he would be the best possible deputy for his 
 literary friend. We warranted him to be a thoroughgoing friend ; 
 and I do think the coalition will be well for both parties. The 
 count has settled it all, and I left Sir Terence comfortably pro- 
 vided for, out of your way, my dear mother, and as happy as 
 he could be, when parting from my father.' 
 
 Lord Colambre was assiduous in engaging his mother's 
 attention upon any subject which could for the present draw 
 her thoughts away from her young friend ; but, at every pause 
 in the conversation, her ladyship repeated, ' So Grace is an 
 heiress, after all — so, after all, they know they are not cousins ! 
 Well ! I prefer Grace, a thousand times over, to any other heiress 
 in England. No obstacle, no objection. They have my con- 
 sent. I always prophesied Colambre would marry an heiress ; 
 but why not marry directly ? ' 
 
 Her ardour and impatience to hurry things forward seemed 
 now likely to retard the accomplishment of her own wishes ; and 
 Lord Clonbrony, who understood rather more of the passion 
 of love than his lady ever had felt or understood, saw the 
 agony into which she threw her son, and felt for his darling 
 Grace. With a degree of delicacy and address of which few 
 would have supposed Lord Clonbrony capable, his lordship 
 co-operated with his son in endeavours to keep Lady Clonbrony 
 quiet, and to suppress the hourly thanksgivings of Grace's 
 turni7ig out an heiress. On one point, however, she vowed she 
 would not be overruled — she would have a splendid wedding 
 at Clonbrony Castle, such as should become an heir and 
 heiress ; and the wedding, she hoped, would be immediately on 
 their return to Ireland ; she should announce the thing to her 
 friends directly on her arrival at Clonbrony Castle. 
 
 ' My dear,' said Lord Clonbrony, ' we must wait, in the first 
 place, the pleasure of old Mr. Reynolds's fit of the gout.' 
 
 ' Why, that's true, because of his will,' said her ladyship ; 
 ' but a will's soon made, is not it ? That can't be much delay.' 
 
 ' And then there must be settlements,' said Lord Clon- 
 brony ; ' they take time. Lovers, like all the rest of mankind, 
 
 376
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 must submit to the law's delay. In the meantime, my 
 dear, as these Buxton baths agree with you so well, and 
 as Grace does not seem to be over and above strong for 
 travelling a long journey, and as there are many curious and 
 beautiful scenes of nature here in Derbyshire — Matlock, 
 and the wonders of the Peak, and so on — which the young 
 people would be glad to see together, and may not have 
 another opportunity soon — why not rest ourselves a little? 
 For another reason, too,' continued his lordship, bringing 
 together as many arguments as he could — for he had often 
 found, that though Lady Clonbrony was a match for any single 
 argument, her understanding could be easily overpowered by 
 a number, of whatever sort — ' besides, my dear, here's Sir 
 Arthur and Lady Berryl come to Buxton on purpose to meet 
 us ; and we owe them some compliment, and something more 
 than compliment, I think ; so I don't see why we should be in 
 a hurry to leave them, or quit Buxton — a few weeks sooner or 
 later can't signify — and Clonbrony Castle will be getting all 
 the while into better order for us. Burke is gone down there ; 
 and if we stay here quietly, there will be time for the velvet 
 furniture to get there before us, and to be unpacked, and up 
 in the drawing-room.' 
 
 ' That's true, my lord,' said Lady Clonbrony ; ' and there 
 is a great deal of reason in all you say — so I second that 
 motion, as Colambre, I see, subscribes to it.' 
 
 They stayed some time in Derbyshire, and every day Lord 
 Clonbrony proposed some pleasant excursion, and contrived 
 that the young people should be left to themselves, as Mrs. 
 Broadhurst used so strenuously to advise ; the recollection of 
 whose authoritative maxims fortunately still operated upon 
 Lady Clonbrony, to the great ease and advantage of the lovers. 
 
 Happy as a lover, a friend, a son ; happy in the conscious- 
 ness of having restored a father to respectability, and persuaded 
 a mother to quit the feverish joys of fashion for the pleasures 
 of domestic life ; happy in the hope of winning the whole 
 heart of the woman he loved, and whose esteem, he knew, he 
 possessed and deserved ; happy in developing every day, every 
 hour, fresh charm in his destined bride — we leave our hero, 
 returning to his native country. 
 
 And we leave him with the reasonable expectation that he 
 will support through life the promise of his early character ; 
 
 377
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 that his patriotic views will extend with his power to carry 
 wishes into action ; that his attachment to his warm-hearted 
 countrymen will still increase upon further acquaintance ; and 
 that he will long diffuse happiness through the wide circle, 
 which is peculiarly subject to the influence and example of a 
 great resident Irish proprietor. 
 
 Letter from Larry to his brother, Pat Brady, at 
 Mr. Mordicai's, coachmaker, London. 
 
 My dear Brother, 
 
 Yours of the 16th, inclosing the five pound note for my father, 
 came safe to hand Monday last ; and with his thanks and blessing 
 to you, he commends it to you herewith inclosed back again, on 
 account of his being in no immediate necessity, nor likelihood to want 
 in future, as you shall hear forthwith ; but wants you over with all 
 speed, and the note will answer for travelling charges ; for we can't 
 enjoy the luck it has pleased God to give us without yees : put the 
 rest in your pocket, and read it when you've time. 
 
 Old Nick's gone, and St. Dennis along with him, to the place 
 he come from — praise be to God ! The onld lord has found him 
 out in his tricks ; and I helped him to that, through the young 
 lord that I driv, as I informed you in my last, when he was a Welch- 
 man, which was the best turn ever I did, though I did not know 
 it no more than Adam that time. So ould Nick's turned out of 
 the agency clean and clear ; and the day after it was known, there 
 was surprising great joy through the whole country ; not surprising 
 either, but just what you might, knowing him, rasonably expect. 
 He (that is, old Nick and St. Dennis) would have been burnt that 
 night — I mane, in effigy, through the town of Clonbrony, but that 
 the new man, Mr. Burke, come down that day too soon to stop it, 
 and said, ' it was not becoming to trample on the fallen,' or some- 
 thing that way, that put an end to it ; and though it was a great 
 disappointment to many, and to me in particular, I could not but 
 like the jantleman the better for it anyhow. They say, he is a very 
 good jantleman, and as unlike old Nick or the saint as can be ; 
 and takes no duty fowl, nor glove, nor sealing - money ; nor asks 
 duty work nor duty turf. Well, when I was disappointed of the 
 e ffigy* I comforted myself by making a bonfire of old Nick's big 
 rick of duty turf, which, by great luck, was out in the road, away 
 from all dwelling-house, or thatch, or yards, to take fire ; so no 
 danger in life or objection. And such another blaze ! I wished 
 you'd seed it — and all the men, women, and children in the town 
 and country, far and near, gathered round it, shouting and dancing 
 
 378
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 like mad ! — and it was light as day quite across the bog, as far as 
 Bartley Finnigan's house. And I heard after, they seen it from 
 all parts of the three counties, and they thought it was St. John's 
 Eve in a mistake — or couldn't make out what it was ; but all took 
 it in good part, for a good sign, and were in great joy. As for St. 
 Dennis and ould Nick, an attorney had his foot upon 'em, with 
 an habere a latitat, and three executions hanging over 'em ; and 
 there's the end of rogues ! and a great example in the country. 
 And — no more about it ; for I can't be wasting more ink upon them 
 that don't desarve it at my hands, when I want it for them that do, 
 you shall see. So some weeks past, and there was great cleaning 
 at Clonbrony Castle, and in the town of Clonbrony ; and the new 
 agent's smart and clever ; and he had the glaziers, and the painters, 
 and the slaters up and down in the town wherever wanted ; and 
 you wouldn't know it again. Thinks I, this is no bad sign ! 
 Now, cock up your ears, Pat ! for the great news is coming, and 
 the good. The master's come home — long life to him ! — and family 
 come home yesterday, all entirely ! The ould lord and the young 
 lord (ay, there's the man, Paddy !), and my lady, and Miss Nugent. 
 And I driv Miss Nugent's maid, that maid that was, and another ; 
 so I had the luck to be in it along wid 'em, and see all, from first 
 to last. And first, I must tell you, my young Lord Colambre 
 remembered and noticed me the minute he lit at our inn, and con- 
 descended to beckon at me out of the yard to him, and axed me — 
 'Friend Larry,' says he, 'did you keep your promise?' — 'My oath 
 again' the whisky, is it?' says I. ' My lord, I surely did,' said I; 
 which was true, as all the country knows I never tasted a drop 
 since. 'And I'm proud to see your honour, my lord, as good as 
 your word too, and back again among us.' So then there was a 
 call for the horses ; and no more at that time passed betwix' my 
 young lord and me, but that he pointed me out to the ould one, as 
 I went off. I noticed and thanked him for it in my heart, though 
 I did not know all the good was to come of it. Well, no more 
 of myself, for the present. 
 
 Ogh, it's I driv 'em well ; and we all got to the great gate of 
 the park before sunset, and as fine an evening as ever you see ; 
 with the sun shining on the tops of the trees, as the ladies noticed ; 
 the leaves changed, but not dropped, though so late in the season. 
 1 believe the leaves knew what they were about, and kept on, on 
 purpose to welcome them ; and the birds were singing, and I stopped 
 whistling, that they might hear them ; but sorrow bit could they 
 hear when they got to the park gate, for there was such a crowd, 
 and such a shout, as you never see — and they had the horses off 
 every carriage entirely, and drew 'em home, with blessings, through 
 the park. And, God bless 'em ! when they got out, they didn't 
 go shut themselves up in the great drawing-room, but went straight 
 out to the ///-rass, to satisfy the eyes and hearts that followed them. 
 
 379
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 My lady lotting on my young lord, and Miss Grace Nugent that was, 
 the beautifullest angel that ever you set eyes on, with the finest 
 complexion and sweetest of smiles, laning upon the ould lord's 
 arm, who had his hat off, bowing to all, and noticing the old tenants 
 as he passed by name. Oh, there was great gladness and tears in 
 the midst ; for joy I could scarce keep from myself. 
 
 After a turn or two upon the //rrass, my Lord Colambre quit his 
 mother's arm for a minute, and he come to the edge of the slope, and 
 looked down and through all the crowd for some one. 
 
 ' Is it the widow O'Neill, my lord ? ' says I ; • she's yonder, with the 
 spectacles on her nose, betwixt her son and daughter, as usual.' 
 
 Then my lord beckoned, and they did not know which of the tree 
 would stir ; and then he gave tree beckons with his own finger, and 
 they all tree came fast enough to the bottom of the slope forenent my 
 lord ; and he went down and helped the widow up (Oh, he's the true 
 jantleman), and brought 'em all tree up on the tirrass, to my lady and 
 Miss Nugent ; and I was up close after, that I might hear, which 
 wasn't manners, but I couldn't help it. So what he said I don't well 
 know, for I could not get near enough, after all. But I saw my lady 
 smile very kind, and take the widow O'Neill by the hand, and then 
 my Lord Colambre Produced Grace to Miss Nugent, and there was the 
 word namesake, and something about a check curtains ; but, whatever 
 it was, they was all greatly pleased ; then my Lord Colambre turned 
 and looked for Brian, who had fell back, and took him with some 
 commendation to my lord his father. And my lord the master said, 
 which I didn't know till after, that they should have their house and 
 farm at the ould rent ; and at the surprise, the widow dropped down 
 dead; and there was a cry as for ten herrings . 'Be qui'te,' says I, 
 ' she's only kilt for joy ; ' and I went and lift her up, for her son had 
 no more strength that minute than the child new born ; and Grace 
 trembled like a leaf, as white as the sheet, but not long, for the 
 mother came to, and was as well as ever when I brought some water, 
 which Miss Nugent handed to her with her own hand. 
 
 ' That was always pretty and good,' said the widow, laying her 
 hand upon Miss Nugent, 'and kind and good to me and mine.' 
 
 That minute there was music from below. The blind harper, 
 O'Neill, with his harp, that struck up ' Gracey Nugent.' 
 
 And that finished, and my Lord Colambre smiling, with the tears 
 standing in his eyes too, and the ould lord quite wiping his, I ran to 
 the linsLSS brink to bid O'Neill play it again ; but as I run, I thought I 
 heard a voice call Larry. 
 
 'Who calls Larry?' says I. 
 
 ' My Lord Colambre calls you, Larry,' says all at once ; and four 
 lakes me by the shoulders and spins me round. ' There's my young 
 lord calling you, Larry — run for your life. ' 
 
 So I run back for my life, and walked respectful, with my hat 
 in my hand, when I got near. 
 
 ^80
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 ' Put on your hat, my father desires it,' says my Lord Colambre. 
 The ould lord made a sign to that purpose, but was too full to speak. 
 'Where's your father?' continues my young lord. — * He's very ould, 
 my lord,' says I. ' I didn't ax you how ould he was,' says he ; 'but 
 where is he ? ' — ' He's behind the crowd below, on account of his 
 infirmities ; he couldn't walk so fast as the rest, my lord,' says I ; 
 ' but his heart is with you, if not his body.' ' I must have his body 
 too, so bring him bodily before us ; and this shall be your warrant for 
 so doing,' said my lord, joking ; for he knows the nat»r of us, 
 Paddy, and how we love a joke in our hearts, as well as if he had 
 lived all his life in Ireland ; and by the same token will, for that 
 rasoti, do what he pleases with us, and more maybe than a man twice 
 as good, that never would smile on us. 
 
 But I'm telling you of my father. ' I've a warrant for you, 
 father,' says I ; 'and must have you bodily before the justice, and my 
 lord chief-justice. ' So he changed colour a bit at first ; but he saw me 
 smile. 'And I've done no sin,' said he; 'and, Larry, you may lead 
 me now, as you led me all my life.' 
 
 And up the slope he went with me as light as fifteen ; and, when 
 we got up, my Lord Clonbrony said, ' I am sorry an old tenant, and a 
 good old tenant, as I hear you were, should have been turned out of 
 your farm.' 
 
 ' Don't fret, it's no great matter, my lord,' said my father. ' I 
 shall be soon out of the way ; but if you would be so kind to speak a 
 word for my boy here, and that I could afford, while the life is in me, 
 bring my other boy back out of banishment ' 
 
 'Then,' says my Lord Clonbrony, ' I'll give you and your sons three 
 lives, or thirty-one years, from this day, of your former farm. Return 
 to it when you please.' 'And,' added my Lord Colambre, ' the flaggers, 
 I hope, will be soon banished.' Oh, how could I thank him — not a 
 word could I proffer — but I know I clasped my two hands, and prayed 
 for him inwardly. And my father was dropping down on his knees, 
 but the master would not let him ; and obsarjed, that posture should 
 only be for his God. And, sure enough, in that posture, when he was 
 out of sight, we did pray for him that night, and will all our days. 
 
 But, before we quit his presence, he called me back, and bid me 
 write to my brother, and bring you back, if you've no objections, to 
 your own country. 
 
 So come, my dear Pat, and make no delay, for joy's not joy 
 compkte till you're in it — my father sends his blessing, and Peggy her 
 love. The family entirely is to settle for good in Ireland, and there 
 was in the castle yard last night a bonfire made by my lord's orders of 
 the ould yellow damask furniture, to plase my lady, my lord says. 
 And the drawing-room, the butler was telling me, is new hung ; and 
 the chairs with velvet as white as snow, and shaded over with natural 
 flowers, by Miss Nugent. Oh ! how I hope what I guess will come 
 true, and I've rason to believe it will, for I dreamt in my bed last 
 
 3»*
 
 THE ABSENTEE 
 
 night it did. But keep yourself to yourself — that Miss Nugent (who 
 is no more Miss Nugent, they say, but Miss Reynolds, and has a new- 
 found grandfather, and is a big heiress, which she did not want in my 
 eyes, nor in my young lord's), I've a notion will be sometime, and may- 
 be sooner than is expected, my Lady Viscountess Colambre — so haste 
 to the wedding. And there's another thing : they say the rich ould 
 grandfather's coming over ; — and another thing, Pat, you would not be 
 out of the fashion — and you see it's growing the fashion not to be an 
 Absentee. — Your loving brother, 
 
 Larry Brady. 
 
 THE END 
 
 Printed by R. & R. Clark. Limited, Editifatrgk.
 
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