CHAPTER VII. A MOTHER AND DAUGHTER
When speaking of Gwynne Abbey to our readers, we omitted to mentiona very beautiful portion of the structure,--a small building whichadjoined the chapel, and went, for some reason or other, by name of the"Sub-Prior's house." More recent in date than the other parts of theabbey, it seemed as if here the architect had expended his skill inshowing of how much ornament and decoration the Gothic was capable.The stone selected was of that pinkish hue that is seen in many of thecathedrals in the North of England,--a material peculiarly favorable tothe labors of the chisel, and when protected from the rude influenceof weather possessing qualities of great endurance. This buildingwas surrounded on three sides by a flower-garden, which descended bysuccessive terraces to the edge of a small river pursuing its course tothe sea, into which it emerged about a mile distant. A very unmindfulobserver would have been struck at once with the aspect of greatercare and cultivation bestowed here than on other portions of theabbey grounds. The trim and orderly appearance of everything, from theflowering shrubs that mingled their blossoms with the rich tracery ofthe architraves, to the bright gravel of the walks, denoted attention,while flowers of rare beauty, and plants of foreign growth, were seenblending their odors with the wild heaths that shed their perfumefrom the mountain side. The brilliant beauty of the spot was, indeed,heightened by the wild and rugged grandeur of the scene, like a diamondglittering brighter amid the dark dross of the mine.
On the side nearest to the bay, and with a view extending to the far-offIsland of Achill, an apartment opened by three large windows, the uppercompartments of which exhibited armorial bearings in stained glass.If the view without presented a scene of the most grand and variedloveliness, within this chamber art seemed to have vied in presentingobjects the most strange and beautiful. It was furnished in all thegorgeous taste of the time of Louis XV. The ceiling, a deep massof carving relieved by gold, presented masses of fruit and flowersfantastically interwoven, and hanging, as though suspended, above thehead. The walls were covered with cabinet pictures of great price, thevery frames objects of wonder and admiration. Large vases of Dresdenand Sevres porcelain stood on brackets of massive silver, and one greatcabinet of ebony, inlaid with gold and tortoiseshell, displayed aninscription that showed it was a present from the great Louis XIV.himself.
It is not, however, to linger over the objects of rare and costlyexcellence which here abounded that we have conducted our reader to thischamber, and whither we would beg of him to accompany us about two hourslater than the events we have narrated in our last chapter.
At a breakfast-table whose equipage was, in price and elegance, inexact keeping with all around, were two ladies. The elder of the two wasadvanced in life, and although her hair was perfectly white, her regularfeatures and finely pencilled brow bore, even yet, great marks ofbeauty. If the expression of the face was haughty, it was so withoutanything of severity; it was a look of pride that denoted rather aconscious sense of position and its duties, than any selfish assumptionof personal importance. Habitual delicacy of health contributed tostrengthen this expression, lending to it a character which, to anincautious observer, might convey the notion of weariness or ennui. Thetones of her voice were low and measured, and perfectly devoid of anypeculiar accent. If to those more familiar with the cordial familiarityof Irish manner, Lady Eleanor Darcy might seem cold and frigid, suchas knew more of the world at large, and were more conversant withthe general habits of society, could detect, through all the seemingimpassive-ness of her air, that desire to please, that anxiety to makea favorable impression, which marked the character of one who in earlylife had been the beauty of her circle. Even now, as she lay backindolently within the deep recess of a cushioned chair, her attitudeevinced a gracefulness and ease which long habit seemed to haveidentified with her nature.
At the opposite side of the table, and busy in the preparation of thebreakfast, stood a young girl whose age could not have been more thaneighteen. So striking was the resemblance between them that the leastacute of physiognomists must have pronounced her the daughter. She wasdressed with remarkable simplicity; but not all the absence of ornamentcould detract from the first impression her appearance conveyed, thatshe was one of birth and station. Her beauty was of that characterwhich, although attributed peculiarly to the Celtic race, seemsstrangely enough to present its most striking examples among theAnglo-Irish. Rich auburn hair, the color varying from dark brown toa deep golden hue as the light falls more or less strongly on it, wasbraided over a brow of classic beauty; her eyes were of blue, that deepcolor which, in speaking or in moments of excitement, looks like darkhazel or even black; these were fringed with long dark lashes whichhabitually hung heavily over the eyes, giving them a character ofsleepy, almost indolent, beauty. The rest of her features, in unisonwith these, were of that Greek mould which our historians attribute tothe Phoenician origin of our people,--a character by no means rare to beseen to this day among the peasantry. If the mild and gentle indicationsof womanly delicacy were told in every lineament of her face, there weretraits of decision and determination when she spoke not less evident.From her mother she inherited the placid tenderness of English manner,while from her father her nature imbibed the joyous animation andbuoyant light-heartedness of the Irish character.
"And there are but two letters, Mamma," said Helen, "in the bag thismorning?"
"But two," said Lady Eleanor; "one of them from Lionel."
"Oh, from Lionel!" cried the young girl, eagerly; "let me see it."
"Read this first," said Lady Eleanor, as she handed across the tablea letter bearing a large seal impressed with an Earl's coronet; "if Imistake not very much, Helen, that's my cousin Lord Netherby's writing;but what eventful circumstance could have caused his affectionateremembrance of me, after something nigh twenty years' silence, is beyondmy power of divination."
Helen Darcy well knew that the theme on which her mother now touched wasthe sorest subject on her mind, and, however anxiously she might, underother circumstances, have pressed for a sight of her brother's letter,she controlled all appearance of the wish, and opened the other withoutspeaking.
"It is dated from Carlton House, Mamma, the 2d------"
"He is in waiting, I suppose," said Lady Eleanor, calmly; and Helenbegan.
"'My dear cousin--'"
"Ah! so he remembers the relationship at least," muttered the old ladyto herself.
"'My dear cousin, it would be a sad abuse of the small space a letteraffords, to inquire into the cause of our long silence; faults on bothsides might explain much of it. I was never a brilliant correspondent,you were always an indolent one; if I wrote stupid letters, you sentme very brief answers; and if you at last grew weary of giving gold forbrass, I can scarcely reproach you for stopping the exchange. Still, atthe risk of remaining unanswered, once more--'"
"This is intolerable," broke in Lady Eleanor; "he never replied to theletter in which I asked him to be your godfather."
"'Still, at the risk of remaining unanswered, once more I must throwmyself on your mercy. In the selfishness of age,--don't forget, my dearcoz, I am eleven years your senior,--in the selfishness of age--'"
The old lady smiled dubiously at these words, and Helen read on:--
"'I desire to draw closer around me those ties of kindred and familywhich, however we may affect to think lightly of, all our experiences inlife tend to strengthen and support. Yes, my dear Eleanor, we are theonly two remaining of all those light-hearted boys and bright-eyed girlsthat once played upon the terrace at Netherby. Poor Harry, your oldsweetheart at Eton, fell at Mysore. Dudley, with ability for anything,would not wait patiently for the crowning honors of his career, took ajudgeship in Madras, and he, too, sleeps in the land of the stranger!And our sweet Catherine! your only rival amongst us, how short-lived washer triumph!--for so the world called her marriage with the Margrave:she died of a broken heart at two-and-twenty! I know not why I havecalled up these sad memories, except it be in the hope that, as
desolation deals heavily around us, we may draw more closely to eachother.'"
Lady Eleanor concealed her face with her handkerchief, and Helen, whohad gradually dropped her voice as she read, stopped altogether at thesewords.
"Read on, dear," said the old lady, in a tone whose firmness wasslightly shaken.
"'A heart more worldly than yours, my dear Eleanor, would exclaim thatthe _parti_ was unequal,--that I, grown old and childless, with fewfriends left, and no ambitions to strive for, stood in far more needof _your_ affectionate regard, than you, blessed with every tie toexistence, did of _mine_; and the verdict would be a just one, for, bythe law of that Nemesis we all feel more or less, even in this world,_you_, whom we deemed rash and imprudent, have alone amongst us securedthe prize of that happiness we each sought by such different paths.'"
A heavy sigh that broke from her mother made Helen cease reading, butat a motion of her hand she resumed: "'For all our sakes, then, mydear cousin, only remember so much of the past as brings back pleasantmemories. Make my peace with your kind-hearted husband. If I can forgive_him_ all the pangs of jealousy he inflicted on _me, he_ may well pardonany slight transgressions on _my_ part, and Lionel, too.--But, first,tell me how have I offended my young kinsman? I have twice endeavored tomake his acquaintance, but in vain. Two very cold and chilling answersto my invitations to Netherby are all I have been able to obtain fromhim: the first was a plea of duty, which I could easily have arranged;but the second note was too plain to be mistaken: "I'll none of you,"was the tone of every line of it. But I will not be so easily repulsed:I am determined to know him, and, more still, determined that he shallknow me. If you knew, my dear Eleanor, how proudly my heart beat athearing his Royal Highness speak of him!--he had seen him at Hounslow ata review. It was a slight incident, but I am certain your son never toldit, and so I must. Lionel, in passing with his company, forgot tolower the regimental flag before the Prince, on which Lord Maxwell, thecolonel, the most passionate man in England, rode up, and said somethingin an angry tone. "I beg pardon, Colonel," said the Prince, "if Iinterfere with the details of duty, but I have remarked that youngofficer before, and, trust me, he 'll come off 'with flying colors,' onmore occasions than the present." The _mot_ was slight, but the flatterywas perfect; indeed, there is not another man in the kingdom can competewith his Royal Highness on this ground. Fascination is the onlyword that can express the charm of his manner. To bring Lionel moreparticularly under the Prince's notice, has long been a favorite schemeof mine; and I may say, without arrogance, that my opportunities are notinferior to most men's in this respect; I am an old courtier now,--nosmall boast for one who still retains his share of favor. If the sonhave any of his father's gifts, his success with the Prince iscertain. The manner of the highly-bred Irish gentleman has been alreadypronounced by his Royal Highness as the type of what manner shouldbe, and, with your assistance, I have little doubt of seeing Lionelappointed on the staff, here.
"'Now, I must hazard my reputation a little, and ask what is the name ofyour second boy, and what is he doing?'"
Helen burst into a fit of laughter at these words, nor could LadyEleanor's chagrin prevent her joining in the emotion.
"This, he shall certainly have an answer to," said the old lady,recovering her self-possession and her pride; "he shall hear that mysecond boy is called Helen."
"After all, Mamma, is it not very kind of him to remember even so much?"
"I remember even more, Helen," interrupted Lady Eleanor; "and no greatkindness in the act either."
"Shall I read all the possible and impossible chances of pushing myfortune in the Army or Navy, Mamma?" said Helen, archly, "for I see thathis Lordship is most profuse in offers for my advancement,--nay, ifI have a clerical vocation, here is a living actually waiting myacceptance."
"Let us rather look for something that may explain the riddle, my dear,"said Lady Eleanor, taking the letter in her own hand, while she lightlyskimmed over the last page. "No, I can find no clew to it here--Stay,what have we in this corner?--'Politically speaking, there is no newshere; indeed, in that respect, _your_ side of the Channel engrossesall the interest; the great question of the "Union" still occupies allattention. Virtually, _we_ know the ministry have the majority, butthere will be still a very respectable fight, to amuse the world withal.How does the Knight vote? With us, I hope and trust, for although I maytell you, in confidence, the result is certain, his support would bevery grateful to the Government, and, while he himself can afford tosmile at ministerial flatteries, Lionel is a young fellow whom rapidpromotion would well become, and who would speedily distinguish himself,if the occasion were favorable. At all events, let the Knight not vote_against_ the minister; this would be a crime never to be forgiven, andpersonally offensive to his Royal Highness; and I trust Darcy is toogood a sportsman to prefer riding the last horse, even should he notwish to mount the winner.'"
Here the letter concluded, amid protestations of regard mostaffectionately worded, and warm wishes for a renewal of intimacy, onlyto cease with life. Across this was written, with a different ink, andin a hurried hand: "I have this moment seen Mr. Pitt; the Knight's voteis very important. He may make any terms he pleases,--Pitt spoke of apeerage; but I suppose that would not be thought advisable. Let me hear_your_ opinion. Lionel has been gazetted to a company this morning, _enattendant_ better."
Lady Eleanor, who had read these last lines to herself, here laid downthe letter without speaking, while the slight flush of her cheek and theincreased brilliancy of her eyes showed that her feelings were deeplyand powerfully excited.
"Well, Mamma, have you found the solution to this mystery?" said Helen,as she gazed with affectionate solicitude on her mother's features.
"How unchangeable a thing is nature!" muttered Lady Eleanor,unconsciously, aloud; "that boy was a crafty tuft-hunter at Eton."
"Of whom are you speaking, Mamma?"
"Lord Netherby, my dear, who would seem to have cultivated his naturalgift with great success; but," added she, after a pause, and in a voicescarcely above a whisper, "I am scarcely as easy a dupe now as when hepersuaded me to take ash-berries in exchange for cherries. Let us hearwhat Lionel says."
"As usual, Mamma, four lines in each page, and the last a blank," saidHelen, laughing:--"'My dear mother, what blandishments have you beenthrowing over the War Office? They have just given me my company, which,by the ordinary rules of the service, I had no pretension to hope for,these five years to come! Our colonel, too, a perfect Tartar, overwhelmsme with civilities, and promises me a leave of absence on the firstvacancy. Have you seen Forester, of ours? and how do you like him? Alittle cold or so at first, but _you_ will not dislike that. His ridingwill please my father. Get him to sing, if you can; his taste and voiceare both first-rate. Your worthy relative, Lord Netherby, bores me withinvitations to his houses, town and country. I say "No;" but he won'tbe denied. Was he not rude, or indifferent, or something or other, onceupon a time, to the ancient house of Darcy? Give me the _consigne_, Ipray you, for I hear he has the best cock-shooting in England; and letmy virtue, if possible, be rewarded by a little indulgence. Tell Helenthey are all giving up powder here, and wear their hair as she does; butnot one of them half as good-looking.
Yours, as ever,
Lionel Darcy.
Hounslow, January 1st, 1800'"
"Is that Sullivan, there?" said Lady Eleanor, as her daughter finishedthe reading of this brief epistle. "What does he mean by staring so atthe window? The old man seems to have lost his senses!"
"Ochone arie! ochone! ochone!" cried Tate, wringing his hands with thegestures of violent grief, as he moved up and down before the windows.
"What has happened, Tate?" said Helen, as she threw open the sash toaddress him.
"Ochone! he's kilt--he's murthered--cut down like a daisy in a Maymorning. And he, the iligant, fine young man!"
"Whom do you mean? Speak plainly, Sullivan," said the commanding voiceof Lady Eleanor. "What is it?"
"'Ti
s the young officer from England, my lady, that came down the nightbefore last to see the master. Oh, murther! murther! if his honor washere, the sorra bit of this grief we 'd have to-day--ochone!"
"Well, go on," said his mistress, sternly.
"And if he came down for joy, ''t is sorrow he supped for it,' the youngcrayture! They soon finished him."
"Once for all, sir, speak out plainly, and say what has occurred."
"It's Mr. Bagenal Daly done it all, my lady,--divil a one of me careswho hears me say it. He's a cruel man, ould as he is. He made him fighta duel, the darling young man,--the 'moral' of Master Lionel himself;and now he's kilt--ochone! ochone!"
"Can this dreadful story be true, Helen?" said Lady Eleanor, as thefaint color left her features. "Call Margaret; or, stay--Sullivan, isMr. Daly here?"
"That he is, never fear him. He's looking at his morning's work--he's inthe room where they carried the corpse; and the fine corpse it is."
"Go tell Mr. Daly that Lady Eleanor desires to see him at once."
"Go, and lose no time, Tate," said Helen, as, almost fainting withterror, she half pushed the old man on his errand.
The mother and daughter sat silently gazing on each other for severalminutes, terror and dismay depicted in the face of each, nor were theyconscious of the lapse of time, when the door opening presented Mr.Bagenal Daly before them. He was dressed in his usual suit of darkbrown, and with all his accustomed neatness. His long cravat, which,edged with deep lace, hung negligently over his waistcoat, was spotlessin color and accurate in every fold, while his massive features weredevoid of the slightest signs of emotion or excitement.
For an instant Lady Eleanor was deceived by all these evidences oftranquillity, but a glance at old Tate's face, as he stood near thedoor, assured her that from such signs she had nothing to hope. Twicehad Mr. Bagenal Daly performed his courteous salutations, which, in theetiquette of a past time, he made separately to each lady, and stillLady Eleanor had not summoned courage to address him. At last he said,--
"Have I been mistaken, and must I apologize for a visit at an hour sounseemly? But I heard that your Ladyship wished to see me."
"Quite true, Mr. Daly," interrupted Lady Eleanor, her habitual tactsupplying a courage her heart was far from feeling. "Will you be seated?Leave the room, Sullivan. My daughter and I," continued she, speakingwith increased rapidity, to cover the emotion of the moment, "have justheard something of a dreadful event which is said to have occurred thismorning. Old Sullivan so often exaggerates that we indulge the hope thatthere may be little or no foundation for the story. Is it true, sir,there has been a duel fought near this?" Her voice grew fainter as shespoke, and at last became a mere whisper.
"Yes, madam," replied Daly, with an air of perfect calmness. "Twogentlemen met this morning at Cluan Point, and both were wounded."
"Neither of them killed?"
"Wounded, madam," reiterated Daly, as if correcting a misconstruction.
"Are the wounds deemed dangerous, sir?"
"Mr. MacDonough's, madam, is not so. The inconvenience of using his lefthand on any similar occasion, in future, will be probably the extentof the mishap. The other gentleman has not been equally fortunate,--hislife is in peril." Mr. Daly paused for a second, and then, perceivingthat Lady Eleanor still awaited a further explanation, added, withgravity, "When taking his position on the ground, madam, instead ofstanding half-front, as I took pains to point out to him, CaptainForester--"
"Forester!--is that his name, sir?" interrupted Helen, as, in a handtrembling with terror, she held out Lionel's letter towards her mother.
"A friend of my son's,--is he in the same regiment with Lionel?" askedLady Eleanor, eagerly.
Daly bowed, and answered, "The same, madam."
A low, faint sigh broke from Lady Eleanor, and, covering her eyes withher hand, she sat for some moments without speaking.
"Has any one seen him, sir?" asked Helen, suddenly, and in a voicethat showed energy of character had the mastery over every feeling ofgrief,--"is there a surgeon with him?"
"No, Miss Darcy," said Daly, with a certain haughtiness of manner. "Ibelieve, however, that, although not a professional person, my knowledgeof a gunshot wound is scarcely inferior to most men's. I have sent intwo directions for a surgeon; meanwhile, with my servant's aid, I havesucceeded in extracting the ball--I beg pardon, ladies, I think I heardthe noise of wheels; it is probably the doctor." And, with a deep bowand a measured step, Mr. Bagenal Daly withdrew, leaving Lady Eleanor andher daughter speechless, between grief and terror.