CHAPTER XXII. A DAY "AFTER"
The reaction that succeeds to a period of festivity has always an air ofpeculiar sadness and gloom about it. The day after a ball, the witheredflowers, the faded decorations, the disordered furniture,--all tellthe tale of departed pleasure and past enjoyment. The afternoon of thatmorning which has witnessed a wedding-breakfast,--the April landscape ofjoy and grief, the bridal beauty, and the high-beating hope of the happylover, have all fled; and in the still and silent chambers there seemsto brood a sense of sorrow and mourning. Still with these thoughtshappier memories are mingled. The bright pageant of the past rises againbefore the mind; and smiles and music and laughter and graceful formscome back, and people space with their images. But how different fromall this was the day after the election at Cro' Martin!
For a week had the Martins condescended to derogate from their proudstation and "play popular" to the electors of Oughterard. They hadopened their most sumptuous apartments to vulgar company, and madeguests of those they deemed inferior to their own domestics. They hadgiven dinners and suppers and balls and picnics. They had lavished allthe flatteries of attentions on their rude neighbors. They had admittedthem to all the privileges of a mock equality, "so like the real articleas not to be detected." They had stored their minds with all the livesand adventures of these ignoble intimates, so as to impart a false colorof friendship to their conversation with them; in a word, and to use oneby which her Ladyship summed up all the miseries of the occasion, theyhad "demoralized" more in a week than she believed it possible couldhave been effected in ten years. Let us be just, and add that my Ladyhad taken the phrase bodily out of her French vocabulary, and in herardor applied it with its native signification,--that is, she alluded tothe sad consequences of association with underbred company, and notby any means to any inroads made upon her sense of honor and highprinciple.
Still, whatever pangs the sacrifice was costing within, it must be ownedthat no signs of them displayed themselves on the outside. Even Repton,stern critic as he was, said that "they did the thing well." And now itwas all over, the guests gone, the festivities ended, the election lost,and nothing in prospect save to settle the heavy outlay of the contest,and pay the high price for that excessively dear article which combinescontamination with disappointment.
In her capacity of head of the administration, Lady Dorothea had assumedthe whole guidance of this contest. With Miss Henderson as her privatesecretary, she had corresponded and plotted and bribed and intrigued toany extent; and although Repton was frequently summoned to a council,his advice was very rarely, if ever, adopted. Her Ladyship's happyphrase--"one ought to know their own borough people better thana stranger"--usually decided every vexed question in favor of herjudgment.
It is a strange characteristic of human nature that at no time do peopleinveigh so loudly against bad faith, treachery, and so on, as whenthemselves deeply engaged in some very questionable enterprise. Now herLadyship had so fully made up her mind to win in this contest that shehad silenced all scruples as to the means. She had set out with somecomfortable self-assurance that she knew what was good for those "poorcreatures" infinitely better than they did. That it was her duty--avery onerous and disagreeable one, too--to rescue them from the evilinfluence of demagogues and such like; and that when represented bya member of _her_ family, they would be invested with a pledge thateverything which proper legislation could do for them would be theirs.So far she had the approval of her own conscience; and for all that wasto follow after, she never consulted that tribunal. It is not at allimprobable that there was little opportunity of doing so in a week ofsuch bustle and excitement. Every day brought with it fresh cares andtroubles; and although Kate Henderson proved herself invaluable in hervarious functions, her Ladyship's fatigues and exertions were of thegreatest.
The day after the election Lady Dorothea kept her bed. The second day,too, she never made her appearance; and it was late in the afternoonof the third that she stole languidly into her library, and ordered hermaid to send Miss Henderson to her.
As Kate entered the room, she could not help feeling struck by thealteration that had taken place in her Ladyship's appearance, who, asshe lay back in a deep chair, with closed eyes and folded hands, lookedlike one risen from a long sick-bed.
As she started and opened her eyes, however, at Kate's approach, thefeatures assumed much of their wonted expression, and their haughtycharacter was only tinged, but not subdued, by the look of sorrowthey wore. With the low and pleasant voice which Kate possessed inperfection, she had begun to utter some words of pleasure at seeing herLadyship again, when the other interrupted her hastily, saying,--
"I want you to read to me, child. There, take that volume of Madamede Sevigne, and begin where you see the mark. You appear weakto-day,--tired, perhaps?"
"Oh, a mere passing sense of fatigue, my Lady," said Kate, assuming herplace, and preparing her book.
"Chagrin, annoyance--disgust I would call it--are far more wearing thanmere labor. For my own part, I think nothing of exertion. But let us notspeak of it. Begin."
And Kate now commenced one of those charming letters, wherein thethought is so embellished by the grace of expression that there isa perpetual semblance of originality, without that strain upon thecomprehension that real novelty exacts. She read, too, with consummateskill. To all the natural gifts of voice and utterance she added a mostperfect taste, and that nicely subdued dramatic feeling which lends toreading its great fascination. Nearly an hour had thus passed, and nota word nor a gesture from Lady Dorothea interrupted the reader. Withslightly drooped eyelids, she sat calm and tranquil; and as Kate, atmoments, stole a passing glance towards her, she could not guess whethershe was listening to her or not.
"You'd have succeeded on the stage, Miss Henderson," said she at length,raising her eyes slowly. "Did it never occur to you to think of thatcareer?"
"Once I had some notion of it, my Lady," said Kate quietly. "I playedin a little private theatre of the Duchess's, and they thought that Ihad some dramatic ability."
"People of condition have turned actors, latterly,--men, of course, Imean; for women, the ordeal is too severe,--the coarse familiarity of avery coarse class, the close association with most inferior natures--Bythe way, what a week of it we have had! I 'd not have believed any onewho told me that the whole globe contained as much unredeemed vulgarityas this little neighborhood. What was the name of the odious littlewoman that always lifted the skirt of her dress before sitting down?"
"Mrs. Creevy, my Lady."
"To be sure,--Mrs. Creevy. And her friend, who always came with her?"
"Miss Busk--"
"Yes, of course; Miss Busk, of the Emporium. If I don't mistake, I 'vegiven her an order for something,--bonnets, or caps; what is it?"
"A head-dress. Your Ladyship told her--"
"You 'll make me ill, child--positively ill--if you remind me of suchhorrors. I told you to come and read for me, and you begin to inflictme with what--I declare solemnly--is the most humiliating incident of mylife."
Kate resumed her book, and read on. Lady Dorothea was now, however,unmistakably inattentive, and the changing color of her cheek betrayedthe various emotions which moved her.
"I really fancy that Miss Martin liked the atrocious creatures we havereceived here the past week; she certainly showed them a speciesof attention quite distinct from mere acceptance; and then they alladdressed her like old acquaintance. Did you observe that?"
"I thought that they assumed a degree of familiarity with Miss Martinwhich was scarcely consistent with their station."
"Say highly ridiculous, child,--perfectly preposterous; for although shewill persist in a style of living very opposite to the requirements ofher position, she is Miss Martin, and _my_ niece!"
There was now a dead pause of some seconds. At length her Ladyshipspoke:--
"To have been beaten in one's own town, where we own every stick andstone in the place, really requires some explanation; and the more I
reflect upon it, the more mysterious does it seem. Repton, indeed, hadmuch to say to it. He is so indiscreet,--eh, don't you think so?"
"He is very vain of his conversational powers, my Lady, and, like allclever talkers, says too much."
"Just so. But I don't think him even agreeable. I deem him a bore,"said my Lady, snappishly. "That taste for story-telling--that anecdotichabit--is quite vulgar; nobody does it now."
Kate listened, as though too eager for instruction to dare to lose aword, and her Ladyship went on:--
"In the first place, everybody--in society, I mean--knows every storythat can or ought to be told; and, secondly, a narrative alwaysinterrupts conversation, which is a game to be played by several."
Kate nodded slightly, as though to accord as much acquiescence asconsorted with great deference.
"It is possible, therefore," resumed her Ladyship, "that he may havedivulged many things in that careless way he talked; and my niece, too,may have been equally silly. In fact, one thing is clear,--the enemyacquired a full knowledge of our tactics, and met every move we made byanother. I was prepared for all the violence, all the insult, all thelicentious impertinence and ribaldry of such a contest; but certainlyI reckoned on success." Another long and dreary pause ensued, and LadyDorothea's countenance grew sadder and more clouded as she sat in moodysilence. At length a faint tinge of color marked her cheek; her eyessparkled, and it was in a voice of more than ordinary energy she said:"If they fancy, however, that we shall accept defeat with submission,they are much mistaken. They have declared the war, and it shall notbe for them to proclaim peace on the day they 've gained a victory. AndMiss Martin also must learn that her Universal Benevolence scheme mustgive way to the demands of a just retribution. Have you made out thelist I spoke of?"
"Yes, my Lady, in part; some details are wanting, but there are eighteencases here quite perfect."
"These are all cottiers,--pauper tenants," said Lady Dorothea, scanningthe paper superciliously through her eyeglass.
"Not all, my Lady; here, for instance, is Dick Sheehan, the blacksmith,who has worked for the castle twenty-eight years, and who holds a farmcalled Mulianahogue, on a terminable lease."
"And he voted against us?" broke she in.
"Yes; and made a very violent speech, too."
"Well, turn him out, then," said Lady Dorothea, interrupting her. "Now,where 's your father? Send for Henderson at once; I 'll have no delaywith this matter."
"I have sent for him, my Lady; he 'll be here within half an hour."
"And Scanlan also. We shall want him."
"Mr. Scanlan will be here at the same time."
"This case here, with two crosses before it, what does this refer to?"said her Ladyship, pointing to a part of the paper.
"That's Mr. Magennis, my Lady, of Barnagheela, who has been makingincessant appeals for a renewal of his tenure--"
"And how did he behave?"
"He seconded Mr. Massingbred's nomination, and made a very outrageousspeech on the occasion."
"To be sure, I remember him; and he had the insolence--the unparalleledinsolence--afterwards to address Miss Martin, as she sat beside me inthe carriage, and to tell her that if the rest of the family had beenlike her the scene that had been that day enacted would never haveoccurred! Who is this Hosey Lynch? His name is so familiar to me."
"He is a postmaster of Oughterard, and a kind of factotum in the town."
"Then make a note of him. He must be dismissed at once."
"He is not a freeholder, my lady, but only mentioned as an active agentof the Liberal party."
"Don't adopt that vulgar cant, Miss Henderson,--at least, when speakingto _me_, They are not--they have no pretensions to be called the Liberalparty. It is bad taste as well as bad policy to apply a flatteringepithet to a faction."
"What shall I call them in future, my Lady?" asked Kate, with a mostadmirably assumed air of innocence.
"Call them Papists, Radicals, Insurgents,--anything, in fact, which maydesignate the vile principles they advocate. You mentioned Mr. Nelligan,and I own to you I felt ill--positively ill--at the sound of his name.Just to think of that man's ingratitude,--base ingratitude. It is butthe other day his son was our guest here,--actually dined at the tablewith us! You were here. _You_ saw him yourself!"
"Yes, my Lady," was the quiet reply.
"I 'm sure nothing could be more civil, nothing more polite, than ourreception of him. I talked to him myself, and asked him something--Iforget what--about his future prospects, and see if this man, or hisfather--for it matters not which--is not the ringleader of this samemovement! I tell you, child, and I really do not say so to hurt yourfeelings, or to aggravate your natural regrets at your condition inlife, but I say it as a great moral lesson,--that low people areinvariably deceitful. Perhaps they do not always intend it; perhaps--andvery probably, indeed--their standard of honorable dealing is a low one;but of the fact itself you may rest assured. They are treacherous, andthey are vindictive!"
"Ennis Cafferty, my Lady, who lives at Broguestown," said Kate,reading from the list, "sends a petition to your Ladyship, entreatingforgiveness if he should have done anything to cause displeasure to thefamily."
"What _did_ he do? that is the question."
"He carried a banner inscribed 'Down with Monopoly!'"
"Mark him for eviction. I'll have no half measures. Miss Martin hasbrought the estate to such a pass that we may draw the rents, but neveraspire to the influence of our property. These people shall now knowtheir real masters. Who is that knocking at the door?--Come in."
And at this summons, uttered in a voice not peculiar for suavity, Mr.Henderson entered, bowing profoundly, and smoothing the few glossy hairsthat streaked rather than covered his bald head. A momentary glancepassed between the father and daughter; so fleeting, however, was it,that the most sharp-eyed observer could not have detected its meaning.Lady Dorothea was too deeply occupied with her own thoughts to waste asecond's consideration on either of them, and promptly said,--
"I want you, Henderson, to inform me who are the chief persons whohave distinguished themselves in this outrageous insult to us in theborough."
Mr. Henderson moved from one foot to the other, once more stroked downhis hair, and seemed like a man suddenly called upon to enter on a veryunpleasant and somewhat difficult task.
"Perhaps you don't like the office, sir?" said she, hastily. "Perhapsyour own principles are opposed to it?"
"Na, my Leddy," said he, deferentially, "I ha' nae principles but suchas the family sanctions. It's nae business o' mine to profess poleeticalopinions."
"Very true, sir,--very just; you comprehend your station," replied she,proudly. "And now to my demand. Who are the heads of this revolt?--forit is a revolt!"
"It's nae sa much a revolt, my Leddy," rejoined he, slowly andrespectfully, "as the sure and certain consequence of what has beengoing on for years on the property. I did my best, by warning, andindeed by thwarting, so far as I could, these same changes. But I wasnot listened to. I foretold what it would all end in, this amelearatingthe condition of the small farmer--this raising the moral standard ofthe people, and a' that. I foresaw that if they grew richer they 'd growsturdier; and if they learned to read, they'd begin to reflact. Ah, myleddy, a vara dangerous practice this same habit of reflection is, tofolk who wear ragged clothes and dine on potatoes!"
"I apprehend that the peril is not felt so acutely in your own country,sir!"
"Vara true, my Leddy; your remark is vara just; but there's thisdifference to be remembered: the Scotch are canny folk, and we do manya thing that might n't be safe for others, but we take care never to dothem ower much."
"I don't want your philosophizing, sir, about national characteristics.I conclude that you know--it is your duty to know--whence this spirittook its rise. I desire to be informed on this head, and also whatmeasures you have to advise for its suppression."
Another pause, longer and more embarrassing than the first, followed onthis sp
eech, and Mr. Henderson really seemed balancing within himselfwhether he would or not give evidence.
"Your reluctance has only to go a step further, Henderson, to impress mewith the worst suspicions of yourself!" said Lady Dorothea, sternly.
"I 'm vara sorry for it, my Leddy; I don't deserve them," was the calmreply.
Had Lady Dorothea been quick-sighted, she might have detected a glancewhich the daughter directed towards her father; but she had been morethan quick-minded if she could have read its meaning, so strange was theexpression it bore.
"In plain words, sir, do you know the offenders? and if so, how can wepunish them?"
"Your Leddyship has them all there," said he, pointing to the list onthe table; "but there's nae sa much to be done wi' them, as the chief o'the lot are men o' mark and means, wi' plenty o' siller, and the speritto spend it."
"I hear of nothing but defaulters till a moment like this arrives, sir,"said her Ladyship, passionately. "The burden of every song is arrearsof rent; and now I am told that the tenantry are so prosperous that theycan afford to defy their landlord. Explain this, sir!"
Before Mr. Henderson had completed that hesitating process which withhim was the prelude to an answer, the door opened, and Mary Martinentered. She was in a riding-dress, and bore the traces of the road onher splashed costume; but her features were paler than usual, and herlip quivered as she spoke.
"My dear aunt," cried she, not seeming to notice that others werepresent, "I have come back at speed from Kyle's Wood to learn if it betrue--but it cannot be true--however the poor creatures there believeit--that they are to be discharged from work, and no more employmentgiven at the quarries. You have n't seen them, dear aunt--you haven'tbeheld them, as I did this morning--standing panic-stricken around thescene of their once labor, not speaking, scarcely looking at each other,more like a shipwrecked crew upon an unknown shore than fathers andmothers beside their own homesteads!"
"It was I gave the order, Miss Martin," said Lady Dorothea, proudly. "Ifthese people prefer political agitation to an honest subsistence, letthem pay the price of it."
"But who says that they have done so?" replied Mary. "These poorcreatures have not a single privilege to exercise; they have n't a voteamongst them. The laws have forgotten them just as completely as humancharity has."
"If they have no votes to record, they have voices to outrage and insulttheir natural protectors. Henderson knows that the worst mobs in theborough were from this very district."
"Let him give the names of those he alludes to. Let him tell meten--five--ay, three, if he can, of Kyle's Wood men who took any sharein the disturbances. I am well aware that it is a locality where heenjoys little popularity himself; but at least he need not calumniateits people. Come, sir, who are these you speak of?"
Kate Henderson, who sat with bent-down head during this speech,contrived to steal a glance at the speaker so meaningful and sosupplicating that Mary faltered, and as a deep blush covered her cheek,she hastily added: "But this is really not the question. This miserablecontest has done us all harm; but let us not perpetuate its bitterness!We have been beaten in an election, but I don't think we ought to beworsted in a struggle of generosity and good feeling. Come over, dearaunt, and see these poor creatures."
"I shall certainly do no such thing, Miss Martin. In the first place,the fever never leaves that village."
"Very true, aunt; and it will be worse company if our kindness shoulddesert them. But if you will not come, take _my_ word for the state oftheir destitution. We have nothing so poor on the whole estate."
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"It is but a moment back I was told that the spirit of resistance to ourinfluence here arose from the wealthy independence of the people; now,I am informed it is their want and destitution suggest the opposition. Iwish I could ascertain which of you is right."
"It's little matter if our theory does not lead us to injustice," saidMary, boldly. "Let me only ride back to the quarries, aunt, and tellthese poor people that they 've nothing to fear,--that there is nothought of withdrawing from them their labor nor its hire. Their livesare, God knows, not overlaid with worldly blessings; let us not add onedrop that we can spare to their cup of sorrow."
"The young leddy says na mair than the fact; they're vara poor, and they're vara dangerous!"
"How do you mean dangerous, sir?" asked Lady Dorothea, hastily.
"There's more out o' that barony at the assizes, my Leddy, than from anyother on the property."
"Starvation and crime are near relatives all the world over," said Mary;"nor do I see that the way to cure the one is to increase the other."
"Then let us get rid of both," said Lady Dorothea. "I don't see why weare to nurse pauperism either into fever or rebellion. To feed peoplethat they may live to infect you, or, perhaps, shoot you, issorry policy. You showed me a plan for getting rid of them,Henderson,--something about throwing down their filthy hovels, orunroofing them, or something of that kind, and then they were toemigrate--I forget where--to America, I believe--and become excellentpeople, hard-working and quiet. I know it all sounded plausible andnice; tell Miss Martin your scheme, and if it does not fulfil all youcalculated, it will at least serve for an example on the estate."
"An example!" cried Mary. "Take care, my Lady. It's a dangerous preceptyou are about to inculcate, and admits of a terrible imitation!"
"Now you have decided me, Miss Martin," said Lady Dorothea, haughtily.
"And, good Heavens! is it for a rash word of mine--for a burst of temperthat I could not control--you will turn out upon the wide world a wholevillage,--the old that have grown gray there,--the infant that clings toits mother in her misery, and makes a home for her by its verydependence--"
"Every one of them, sir," said Lady Dorothea, addressing herself toHenderson, who had asked some question in a low whisper. "They 'recottiers all; they require no delays of law, and I insist upon itperemptorily."
"Not till my uncle hears of it!" exclaimed Mary, passionately. "A cruelwrong like this shall not be done in mad haste." And with these words,uttered in all the vehemence of great excitement, she rushed from theroom in search of Martin.