CHAPTER XXXVIII. REPTON'S LAST CAUSE
We have no right, as little have we the inclination, to inflict ourreader with the details by which Barry Martin asserted and obtained hisown. A suit in which young Martin assumed to be the defendant developedthe whole history to the world, and proclaimed his title to the estate.It was a memorable case in many ways; it was the last brief Val Reptonever held. Never was his clear and searching intellect more conspicuous;never did he display more logical acuteness, nor trace out a difficultnarrative with more easy perspicuity.
"My Lords," said he, as he drew nigh the conclusion of his speech, "itwould have been no ordinary satisfaction to me to close a long life oflabor in these courts by an effort which restores to an ancient name thenoble heritage it had held for centuries. I should have deemed suchan occasion no unfitting close to a career not altogether void of itssuccesses; but the event has still stronger claims upon my gratitude. Itenables me in all the unembellished sternness of legal proof to displayto an age little credulous of much affection the force of a brother'slove,--the high-hearted devotion by which a man encountered a long lifeof poverty and privation, rather than disturb the peaceful possession ofa brother.
"Romance has its own way of treating such themes; but I do notbelieve romance can add one feature to the simple fact of this man'sself-denial.
"We should probably be lost in our speculations as to the noble motivesof this sacrifice, if our attention was not called away to somethinginfinitely finer and more exalted than even this. I mean the gloriouslife and martyr's death of her who has made a part of this case lesslike a legal investigation than the page of an affecting story. Story,do I say! Shame on the word! It is in truth and reality alone are suchvirtues inscribed. Fiction cannot deal with the humble materials thatmake up such an existence,--the long hours of watching by sickness; theweary care of teaching the young; the trying disappointments to hopebravely met by fresh efforts; the cheery encouragement drawn from aheart exhausting itself to supply others. Think of a young girl--a verychild in the world's wisdom, more than a man in heroism and daring, witha heart made for every high ambition, and a station that might commandthe highest--calmly consenting to be the friend of destitution, thecompanion of misery, the daily associate of every wretchedness; devotinggrace that might have adorned a court to shed happiness in a cabin,and making of beauty that would have shed lustre around a palace thesunshine that pierced the gloom of a peasant's misery! Picture toyourself the hand a prince might have knelt to kiss, holding the cup tothe lips of fever; fancy the form whose elegance would have fascinated,crouched down beside the embers as she spoke words of consolation orhope to some bereaved mother or some desolate orphan!
"These are not the scenes we are wont to look on here. Our cares are,unhappily, more with the wiles and snares of crafty men than with thesorrows and sufferings of the good! It is not often human nature wearsits best colors in this place; the spirit of litigious contest littlefavors the virtues that are the best adornments of our kind. Thricehappy am I, then, that I end my day where a glorious sunset gildsits last hours; that I close my labors not in reprobating crime orstigmatizing baseness, but with a full heart, thanking God that my lastwords are an elegy over the grave of the best of The Martins of Cro'Martin.'"
The inaccurate record from which we take these passages--for the onlyreport of the trial is in a newspaper of the time--adds that the emotionof the speaker had so far pervaded the court that the conclusion wasdrowned in mingled expressions of applause and sorrow; and when Reptonretired, he was followed by the whole bar, eagerly pressing to taketheir last farewell of its honored father.
The same column of the paper mentions that Mr. Joseph Nelligan was tohave made his first motion that day as Solicitor-General, but had leftthe court from a sudden indisposition, and the cause was consequentlydeferred.
If Val Repton never again took his place in court, he did not entirelyabdicate his functions. Barry Martin had determined on making aconveyance of the estate to his nephew, and the old lawyer was forseveral weeks busily employed in that duty. Although Merl's claim becameextinguished when young Martin's right to the property was annulled,Barry Martin insisted on arrangements being made to repay him all thathe had advanced,--a course which Repton, with some little hesitation, atlast concurred in. He urged Barry to reserve a life-interest to himselfin the property, representing the various duties which more properlywould fall to his lot than to that of a young and inexperiencedproprietor. But he would not hear of it.
"He cannot abide the place," said Repton, when talking the matter overwith Massingbred. "He is one of those men who never can forgive thelocality where they have been miserable, nor the individual who has hada share in their sorrow. When he settles his account with Henderson,then he 'll leave the West forever."
"And will he still leave Henderson in his charge?" asked Jack.
"That is as it may be," said Repton, cautiously. "There is, as Iunderstand, some very serious reckoning between them. It is the onlysubject on which Martin has kept mystery with me, and I do not like evento advert to it."
Massingbred pondered long over these words, without being able to makeanything of them.
It might be that Henderson's conduct had involved him in some gravecharge; and if so, Jack's own intentions with regard to the daughterwould be burdened with fresh complications. "The steward" was badenough; but if he turned out to be the "unjust steward"--"I 'll startfor Galway to-night," thought he. "I 'll anticipate the discovery,whatever it be. She can no longer refuse to see me on the pretext ofrecent sorrow. It is now two months and more since this bereavementbefell her. I can no longer combat this life of anxiety and doubt.--Whatcan I do for you in the West, sir?" asked he of Repton, suddenly.
"Many things, my young friend," said Repton, "if you will delay yourdeparture two days, since they are matters on which I must instruct youpersonally."
Massingbred gave a kind of half-consent, and the other went on to speakof the necessity for some nice diplomacy between the uncle and hisnephew. "They know each other but little; they are on the verge ofmisunderstandings a dozen times a day. Benefits are, after all, butsorry ties between man and man. They may ratify the treaty of affection;they rarely inscribe the contract!"
"Still Martin cannot but feel that to the noblest act of his uncle'sgenerosity he is indebted for all he possesses."
"Of course he knows, and he feels it; but who is to say whether thatsame consciousness is not a load too oppressive to bear. I know alreadyBarry Martin's suggestions as to certain changes have not been welltaken, and he is eager and pressing to leave Ireland, lest anythingshould disturb the concord, frail as it is, between them."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Massingbred, passionately, "there is wonderfullylittle real good in this world; wonderfully little that can stand thetest of the very basest of all motives,--mere gain."
"Don't say so!" cried Repton. "Men have far better natures than youthink; the fault lies in their tempers. Ay, sir, we are always enteringinto heavy recognizances with our passions, to do fifty things we nevercared for. We have said this, we have heard the other; somebody sneeredat that, and some one else agreed with him; and away we go, pitching allreason behind us, like an old shoe, and only seeking to gratify a whim,or a mere caprice, suggested by temper. Why do people maintain friendlyintercourse at a distance for years, who could not pass twenty-fourhours amicably under the same roof? Simply because it is their natures,and not their tempers, are in exercise."
"I scarcely can separate the two in my mind," said Jack, doubtingly.
"Can't you, sir? Why, nature is your skin, temper only your great-coat."And the old lawyer laughed heartily at his own conceit. "But here comesthe postman."
The double knock had scarcely reverberated through the spacious hallwhen the servant entered with a letter.
"Ah! Barry Martin's hand. What have we here?" said Repton, as he ran hiseyes over it. "So-so; just as I was saying this minute, only that Barryhas the good sense to see it himself. 'My n
ephew,' he writes, 'has hisown ideas on all these subjects, which are not mine; and as it is nopart of my plan to hamper my gift with conditions that might impair itsvalue, I mean to leave this at once.
"'I have had my full share of calamity since I set foot in this land;and if this rugged old nature could be crushed by mere misfortune, thelast two months might have done it. But no, Repton, the years by whichwe survive friends serve equally to make us survive affections, and welive on, untouched by time!
"'I mean to be with you this evening. Let us dine alone together, for Ihave much to say to you.
"' Yours ever,
"'Barry Martin.
"'I hope I may see Massingbred before I sail. I 'd like to shake handswith him once again. Say so to him, at all events.'"
"Come in to-morrow to breakfast," said Repton; "by that time we'll havefinished all mere business affairs." And Massingbred having assented,they parted.