CHAPTER XXX. "A TEA-PARTY" AT MRS. CRONAN'S
Once more, but for the last time, we are at Kilkieran. To a dreary dayof incessant rain succeeded an evening still drearier. Wild gusts sweptalong the little shore, and shook the frail windows and ill-fittingdoors of the cottages, while foam and sea-drift were wafted over theroofs, settling like snow-flakes on the tall cliffs above them. And yetit was midsummer! By the almanac the time was vouched to be the openingof the season; a fact amply corroborated by the fashionable assemblagethen enjoying the hospitalities of Mrs. Cronan's tea-table. There theywere, with a single exception, the same goodly company already presentedto the reader in an early chapter of our story. We have alreadymentioned the great changes which time had worked in the appearanceof the little watering-place. The fostering care of proprietorshipwithdrawn, the ornamental villa of the Martins converted into amiserable village inn, the works of the pier and harbor suspended, andpresenting in their unfinished aspect the dreary semblance of ruin anddecay,--all conspired with the falling fortunes of the people to makethe scene a sad one. Little evidence of this decline, however, could betraced in the aspect of that pleasant gathering, animated with all itsancient taste for whist, scandal, and shrimps; their appetite for suchluxuries seeming rather to have increased than diminished by years.Not that we presume to say they could claim any immunity against theirrevocable decrees of age. Unhappily, the confession may be deemed notexactly in accordance with gallantry; but it is strictly true, timehad no more forgotten the living than the inanimate accessories ofthe picture. Miss Busk, of the Emporium, had grown more sour and morestately. The vinegar of her temperament was verging upon verjuice, andthe ill opinion of mankind experience enforced had written itselfvery legibly on her features. The world had not improved upon her byacquaintance. Not so Captain Bodkin; fatter and more wheezy than ever,he seemed to relish life rather more than when younger. He had given up,too, that long struggle with himself about bathing, and making up hismind to suffer no "sea-change;" he was, therefore, more cheerful thanbefore.
As for Mrs. Cronan, "the little comforts she was used to" had sorelydiminished by the pressure of the times, and, in consequence, shedrew unlimited drafts upon the past to fill up the deficiencies of thepresent. Strange enough is it, that the faults and follies of societyare just as adhesive ingredients as its higher qualities! Thesepeople had grown so used to each other in all their eccentric waysand oddities, that they had become fond of them; like a pilot longaccustomed to rocks and sandbanks, they could only steer their coursewhere there was something to avoid!
The remainder of the goodly company had grown stouter or thinner,jollier or more peevish, as temperament inclined; for it is with humannature as with wine: if the liquor does not get racier with years, itdegenerates sadly.
The first act of the whist and backgammon playing was over, and theparty now sat, stood, crouched, lounged, or lay, as chance and the stateof the furniture permitted, at supper. At the grand table, of course,were the higher dignitaries, such as Father Maher, the Captain, MissBusk, and Mrs. Clinch; but cockles were eaten, and punch discussed invarious very odd quarters; bursts of joyous laughter, too, came fromdark pantries, and sounds of merriment mingled with the jangling crashof kitchen utensils. Reputations were roasted and pancakes fried,characters and chickens alike mangled, and all the hubbub of a festivalprevailed in a scene where the efforts of the fair hostess were directedto produce an air of unblemished elegance and gentility.
Poor Clinch, the revenue officer, who invariably eat what he called "hisbit" in some obscure quarter, alone and companionless, was twice "hadup" before the authorities for the row and uproar that prevailed, andunderwent a severe cross-examination, "as to where he was when MissCullenane was making the salad," and, indeed, cut a very sorry figureat the conclusion of the inquiry. All the gayeties and gravities ofthe scene, however, gradually toned down as the serious debate of theevening came on; which was no other than the lamentable condition ofthe prospects of Kilkieran, and the unanimous opinion of the ruinousconsequences that must ensue from the absence of the proprietor.
"We 've little chance of getting up the news-room now," said theCaptain. "The Martins won't give a sixpence for anything."
"It is something to give trade an impulse we want, sir," broke inMiss Busk,--"balls and assemblies; evening reunions of the _elite_ ofsociety, where the elegance of the toilet should rival the _distingue_air of the company."
"That's word for word out of the 'Intelligence,'" cried the Captain."It's unparliamentary to quote the newspapers."
"I detest the newspapers," broke in Miss Busk, angrily; "afteradvertising the Emporium for two seasons in the 'Galway Celt,' they gaveme a leading article beginning, 'As the hot weather is now commencing,and the season for fashion approaches, we cannot better serve theinterests of our readers than by directing attention to the elegant"Symposium!"' 'Symposium!'--I give you my word of honor that's what theyput it."
"On my conscience! it might have been worse," chuckled out the Captain.
"It was young Nelligan explained to me what it was," resumed Miss Busk;"and Scanlan said, 'I'd have an action against them for damages.'"
"Keep out of law, my dear!--keep out of law!" sighed Mrs. Cronan. "Seeto what it has reduced me! I, that used to go out in my own coach, withtwo men in green and gold; that had my house in town, and my house inthe country; that had gems and ornaments such as a queen might wear! Andthere's all that's left me now!" And she pointed to a brooch about thesize of a cheese-plate, where a melancholy gentleman in uniform wasrepresented, with a border of mock pearls around him. "The last pledgeof affection!" sobbed she.
"Of course you wouldn't pledge it, my dear," muttered the deaf old Mrs.Few; "and they'd give you next to nothing on it, besides."
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"We 'll have law enough here soon, it seems," said Mrs. Cronan, angrily;for the laugh this blunder excited was by no means flattering andpleasant. "There 's Magennis's action first for trial at the Assizes."
"That will be worth hearing," said Mrs. Clinch. "They 'll have the firstlawyers from Dublin on each side."
"Did you hear the trick they played off on Joe Nelligan about it?" askedthe Captain. "It was cleverly done. Magennis found out, some way orother, that Joe wanted to be engaged against him; and so what does hedo but gets a servant dressed up in the Martin livery, and sends him toJoe's house on the box of a coach, inside of which was a gentlemanthat begged a word with the Counsellor. 'You 're not engaged, I hope,Counsellor Nelligan,' says he, 'in Magennis against Martin?' 'No,' saysJoe, for he caught a glimpse of the livery. 'You're quite free?' saysthe other. 'Quite free,' says he. 'That's all I want, then,' says he;'here's your brief, and here's your retainer;' and he put both down onthe table, and when Joe looked down he saw he was booked for Magennis.You may imagine how he felt; but he never uttered a word, for there wasno help for it."
"And do you mean to tell me," cried Mrs. Clinch, "that the lawyers can'thelp themselves, but must just talk and rant and swear for any one thatasks them first?"
"It's exactly what I mean, ma'am," responded the Captain. "They 've nomore choice in the matter than the hangman has as to who be 'll hang."
"Then I'd as soon be a gauger!" exclaimed the lady, with a contemptuousglance at poor Clinch, who winced under the observation.
"But I don't see what they wanted young Nelligan for," said Miss Busk;"what experience or knowledge has _he?_"
"He's just the first man of the day," said Bodkin. "They tell me thatwhether it be to crook out a flaw in the enemy's case, to pick a hole ina statement, to crush a witness, or cajole the jury, old Repton himselfis n't his equal."
"I suppose, from the airs he gives himself, he must be somethingwonderful," said Mrs. Cronan.
"Well, now, I differ from you there, ma'am," replied Bodkin. "I thinkJoe is just what he always was. He was cold, silent, and distant as aboy, and he 's the same as a man. Look at him when he comes down here atthe Assizes, down to the town where his father is selling glu
e and hidesand tenpenny-nails, and he 's just as easy and unconstrained as if theold man was Lord of Cro' Martin Castle."
"That's the height of impertinence," broke in Miss Busk; "it's onlyreal blood has any right to rise above the depreciating accidents ofcondition. I know it by myself."
"Well, I wonder what he 'll make of this case, anyhow," said feodkin, toescape a controversy he had no fancy for. "They tell me that no actioncan lie on it. It's not abduction--"
"For shame, Captain; you forget there are ladies here," said Mrs.Clinch.
"Indeed I don't," sighed he, with a half-comic melancholy in his look.
"I'll tell you how they do it, sir," chimed in Father Maher. "Wheneverthere 's anything in law that never was foreseen or provided for,against which there is neither act nor statute, they 've one grand andunfailing resource,--they charge it as a conspiracy. I 've a brother anattorney, and he tells me that there is n't a man, woman, or child inthe kingdom but could be indicted for doing something by a conspiracy."
"It's a great comfort to know that," said Bodkin, gravely.
"And what can they do to her if she's found guilty?" asked Mrs. Cronan.
"Make her smart for the damages, ma'am; leave her something less toexpend on perversion and interference with the people," said the priest."The parish isn't the same since she began visiting this one and readingto that. Instead of respect and confidence in their spiritual guides,the people are running after a young girl with a head full of wildschemes and contrivances. We all know by this time how these things end,and the best receipt to make a Protestant begins, 'First starve yourPapist.'"
"I rise to order," called out Bodkin. "We agreed we'd have no polemicsnor party discussions."
"Why am I appealed to, then, for explanations that involve them?"cried the priest, angrily. "I'm supported, too, in my observations by awitness none will dispute,--that Scotchman, Henderson--"
"By the way, isn't his daughter come home to him?" asked Bodkin, eagerfor a diversion.
"Indeed she is, sir; and a pretty story there is about it, too. MissBusk knows it all," said Mrs. Cronan.
"I have it in confidence, ma'am, from Jemima Davis,--Lady Dorothea'ssecond maid; but I don't think it a fit subject for publicconversation."
"And ain't we in committee here?" chimed in Bodkin; "have we any secretsfrom each other?" The racy laugh of the old fellow, as he threw aknowing glance around the table, rather disconcerted the company. "Let'shear about Henderson's daughter."
"The story is soon told, sir. Lady Dorothea detected her endeavoring todraw young Martin into a private marriage. The artful creature, bysome means or other, had obtained such an insight into the young man'sdifficulties that she actually terrorized over his weak mind.She discovered, too, it is suspected, something rather more thanindiscretions on his part."
A long low whistle from the priest seemed to impart a kind of gratifiedsurprise at this announcement.
"He had got into a habit of signing his name, they say; and whether hesigned it to something he had no right to, or signed another name bymistake--"
"Oh, for shame," broke in Bodkin; "that wouldn't be one bit like aMartin."
"Perhaps you are acquainted with all the circumstances better thanmyself, sir?" said Miss Busk, bristling up with anger. "Maybe you 'veheard how the Henderson girl was turned away out of the French duke'sfamily,--how she was found in correspondence with the leaders of the mobin Paris? Maybe, sir, you are aware that she has some mysterious holdover her father, and he dares not gainsay one word she says?"
"I don't know one word of it; and if it wasn't thought rude, I'd say Idon't believe it, either," said Bodkin, stoutly.
"I believe the worst that could be said of her," said Mrs. Clinch.
"Well, well, make her as bad as you like; but how does that proveanything against young Martin? and if you can find nothing heavier tosay of him than that he wanted to marry a very handsome girl--"
"A low creature!" broke in Miss Busk.
"The lowest of the low!" chimed in Mrs. Cronan.
"An impudent, upsetting minx!" added Mrs. Clinch. "Nothing would serveher but a post-chaise the morning she arrived by the mail for Dublin;and, signs on it, when she got home she had n't money to pay for it."
"It was n't that she left her place empty-handed, then," said Miss Busk."Jemima tells me that she managed the whole house,--paid for everything;and we all know what comes of that."
Miss Busk, in delivering this sentiment, was seated with her back tothe door, towards which suddenly every eye was now turned in mingledastonishment and confusion; she moved round to see the cause, and therebeheld the very object of her commentary standing close behind herchair. Closely wrapped in a large cloak, the hood of which she woreover her head, her tall figure looked taller and more imposing in itsmotionless attitude.
"I have to ask pardon for this intrusion, ladies," said she, calmly;"but you will forgive me when I tell the reason of it. I have justreceived very sad tidings, which ought to be conveyed to Miss Martin;she is at the islands, and I have no means of following her, unless Mr.Clinch will kindly lend me the revenue boat--"
"And accompany you, I hope," broke in Mrs. Clinch, with a sneer.
Kate did not notice the taunting remark, but went on, "You will begrieved to hear that Mr. Martin is no more."
"Martin dead!" muttered the Captain.
"Dead! When did he die?" "Where did it happen?" "How?" "Of whatmalady?" "Are his remains coming home?" were asked in quick successionby several voices.
"This letter will tell you all that I know myself," said she, laying iton the table. "May I venture to hope Mr. Clinch will so far oblige me?The fishermen say the sea is too rough for their craft."
"It's not exactly on the King's service, I opine, ma'am," broke in Mrs.Clinch; "but of course he is too gallant to oppose your wishes."
"Faith! if you wanted any one with you, and would accept of myself,"broke in Bodkin, "I'm ready this minute; not that exactly salt water ismy element."
"The young lady is accustomed to travel alone, or she is much belied,"said Miss Busk, with a sneer.
"I suppose you'd better let her have the boat, Clinch," said his wife,in a whisper. "There's no knowing what might come of it if you refused."
"I 'll go down and muster the crew for you, Miss Henderson," saidClinch, not sorry to escape, although the exchange was from a warm cabinto the beating rain without.
"Poor Martin!" sighed Bodkin; "he was the first of the family for many along year that did n't breathe his last under his own roof. I 'm sure itweighed heavily on him."
"I trust his son will follow his example, nevertheless," said thepriest. "I don't want to see one of the name amongst us."
"You might have worse, Father Maher," said Bodkin, angrily.
And now a lively discussion ensued as to the merits of him theyhad lost, for the most part with more of charity than many of theirdissertations; from this they branched off into speculations about thefuture. Would the "present man" reside at home? would her Ladyship comeback? what would be Mary's position? how would Scanlan fare? what ofHenderson, too? In fact, casualties of every kind were debated,and difficulties started, that they might be as readily reconciled.Meanwhile Kate was hastening down to the shore, followed, rather thanescorted, by little Clinch, who even in the darkness felt that theconjugal eye was upon him.