Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I.

Sewel’s face grew purple as he darted a look of savage anger at the speaker, and, turning his horse’s head, he dashed out at speed and disappeared.

“Peter Delaney,” said Westenra, “I thought you had more discretion than to tell such a story as that.”

“Begorra, Mister Tom! I didn’t know the mischief I was making till I saw the look he gave me!”

It was not till after a considerable search that Sewell came up with his wife’s party, who were sauntering leisurely along the river-side, through a gorse-covered slope.

“I ‘ve had a devil of a hunt after you!” he cried, as he rode up, and the ringing tone of his voice was enough to intimate to her in what temper he spoke. “I ‘ve something to say to you,” said he, as though meant for her private ear; and the others drew back, and suffered them to ride on together. “There ‘s a telegram just come from that old beast the Chief Baron; he desires to see me to-night. The last train leaves at five, and I shall only hit it by going at once. Can’t you keep your horse quiet, Madam, or must you show off while I ‘m speaking to you?”

“It was the furze that stung him,” said she, coldly, and not showing the slightest resentment at his tone.

“If the old bear means anything short of dying, and leaving me his heir, this message is a shameful swindle.”

“Do you mean to go?” asked she, coldly.

“I suppose so; that is,” added he, with a bitter grin, “if I can tear myself away from you;” but she only smiled.

“I ‘ll have to pay a forfeit in this match,” continued he, “and my book will be all smashed, besides. I say,” cried he, “would Trafford ride for me?”

“Perhaps he would.”

“None of your mock indifference, Madam. I can’t afford to lose a thousand pounds every time you have a whim. Ay, look astonished if you like! but if you had n’t gone into the billiard-room on Saturday evening and spoiled my match, I ‘d have escaped that infernal whist-table. Listen to me now! Tell him that I have been sent for suddenly, – it might be too great a risk for me to refuse to go, – and ask him to ride Crescy; if he says Yes, – and he will say yes if you ask him as you ought,” – her cheek grew crimson as he uttered the last word with a strong emphasis, – “tell him to take up my book. Mind you use the words ‘take up;’ he’ll understand you.”

“But why not say all this yourself? – he ‘s riding close behind at this minute.”

“Because I have a wife, Madam, who can do it so much better; because I have a wife who plucks a carnation out of a man’s coat, and wears it in her bosom, and this on an open race-course, where people can talk of it! and a woman with such rare tact ought to be of service to her husband, eh?” She swayed to and fro in her saddle for an instant as though about to fall, but she grasped the horn with both hands and saved herself.

“Is that all?” muttered she, faintly.

“Not quite. Tell Trafford to come round to my dressing-room, and I ‘ll give him a hint or two about the horse. He must come at once, for I have only time to change my clothes and start. You can make some excuse to the people for my absence; say that the old Judge has had another attack, and I only wish it may be true. Tell them I got a telegram, and that may mean anything. Trafford will help you to do the honors, and I ‘ll swear him in as viceroy before I go. Is n’t that all that could be asked of me?” The insolence of his look as he said this made her turn away her head as though sickened and disgusted.

“They want you at the weighing-stand, Colonel Sewell,” said a gentleman, riding up.

“Oh, they do! Well, say, please, that I ‘m coming. Has he given you that black horse?” asked he, in a hurried whisper.

“No; he offered him, but I refused.”

“You had no right to refuse; he’s strong enough to carry me; and the ponies that I saw led round to the stable-yard, whose are they?”

“They are Captain Trafford’s.”

“You told him you thought them handsome, I suppose, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I think them very beautiful.”

“Well, don’t take them as a present. Win them if you like at piquet or écarté, – any way you please, but don’t take them as a gift, for I heard Westenra say they were meant for you.”

She nodded; and as she bent her head, a smile, the very strangest, crossed her features. If it were not that the pervading expression of her face was at the instant melancholy, the look she gave him would have been almost devilish.

“I have something else to say, but I can’t remember it.”

“You don’t know when you’ll be back?” asked she, carelessly.

“Of course not, – how can I? I can only promise that I’ll not arrive unexpectedly, Madam; and I take it that’s as much as any gentleman can be called on to say. Bye-bye.”

“Good-bye,” said she, in the same tone.

“I see that Mr. Balfour is here. I can’t tell who asked him; but mind you don’t invite him to luncheon; take no notice of him whatever; he’ll not bet a guinea; never plays; never risks anything, – even his affections!”

“What a creature!”

“Isn’t he! There! I’ll not detain you from pleasanter company; good-bye; see you here when I come back, I suppose?”

“Most probably,” said she, with a smile; and away he rode, at a tearing gallop, for his watch warned him that he was driven to the last minute.

“My husband has been sent for to town, Captain Traf-ford,” said she, turning her head towards him as he resumed his place at her side; “the Chief Baron desires to see him immediately, and he sets off at once.”

“And his race? What ‘s to become of his match?”

“He said I was to ask you to ride for him.”

“Me – I ride! Why, I am two stone heavier than he is.”

“I suppose he knew that,” said she, coldly, and as if the matter was one of complete indifference to her. “I am only delivering a message,” continued she, in the same careless tone; “he said, ‘Ask Captain Trafford to ride for me and take up my book; ‘I was to be particular about the phrase ‘take up;’ I conclude you will know what meaning to attach to it.”

“I suspect I do,” said he, with a low soft laugh.

“And I was to add something about hints he was to give you, if you ‘d go round to his dressing-room at once; indeed, I believe you have little time to spare.”

“Yes, I’ll go, – I ‘ll go now; only there ‘s one thing I ‘d like to ask – that is – I’d be very glad to know – ”

“What is it?” said she, after a pause, in which his confusion seemed to increase with every minute.

“I mean, I should like to know whether you wished me to ride this race or not?”

“Whether I wished it?” said she, in a tone of astonishment.

“Well, whether you cared about the matter one way or other?” replied he, in still deeper embarrassment.

“How could it concern me, my dear Captain Trafford?” said she, with an easy smile; “a race never interests me much, and I ‘d just as soon see Blue and Orange come in as Yellow and Black; but you ‘ll be late if you intend to see my husband; I think you ‘d better make haste.”

“So I will, and I ‘ll be back immediately,” said he, not sorry to escape a scene where his confusion was now making him miserable.

“You are a very nice horse!” said she, patting the animal’s neck, as he chafed to dash off after the other. “I ‘d like very much to own you; that is, if I ever was to call anything my own.”

“They ‘re clearing the course, Mrs. Sewell,” said one of her companions, riding up; “we had better turn off this way, and ride down to the stand.”

“Here’s a go!” cried another, coming up at speed. “Big Trafford is going to ride Crescy; he ‘s well-nigh fourteen stone.”

“Not thirteen: I ‘ll lay a tenner on it.”

“He can ride a bit,” said a third.

“I ‘d rather he ‘d ride his own horse than mine.”

“Sewell knows what he ‘s about, depend on ‘t.”

“That’s his wife,” whispered another; “I’m certain she heard you.”

Mrs. Sewell turned her head as she cantered along, and, in the strange smile her features wore, seemed to confirm the speaker’s words; but the hurry and bustle of the moment drowned all sense of embarrassment, and the group dashed onward to the stand.

Leaving that heaving, panting, surging tide of humanity for an instant, let us turn to the house, where Sewell was already engaged in preparing for the road.

“You are going to ride for me, Trafford?” said Sewell, as the other entered his dressing-room, where, with the aid of his servant, he was busily packing up for the road.

“I ‘m not sure; that is, I don’t like to refuse, and I don’t see how to accept.”

“My wife has told you; I ‘m sent for hurriedly.”

“Yes.”

“Well?” said he, looking round at him from his task.

“Just as I have told you already; I ‘d ride for you as well as a heavy fellow could take a light-weight’s place, but I don’t understand about your book – am I to stand your engagements?”

“You mean, are you to win all the money I’m sure to pocket on the match?”

“No, I don’t mean that,” said he, laughing; “I never thought of trading on another man’s brains; I simply meant, am I to be responsible for the losses?”

“If you ride Crescy as you ought to ride him, you needn’t fret about the losses?”

“But suppose that I do not – and the case is a very possible one – that, not knowing your horse – ”

“Take this portmanteau down, Bob, and the carpet-bag; I shall only lose my train,” said Sewell, with a gesture of hot impatience; and as the servant left the room, he added: “Pray don’t think any more about this stupid race; scratch Crescy, and tell my wife that it was a change of mind on “my” part, – that I did not wish you to ride; good-bye;” and he waved a hasty adieu with his hand, as though to dismiss him at once.

“If you ‘ll let me ride for you, I ‘ll do my best,” blundered out Trafford; “when I spoke of your engagements, it was only to prepare you for what perhaps you were not aware of, that I ‘m not very well off just now, and that if anything like a heavy sum – ”

“You are a most cautious fellow; I only wonder how you ever did get into a difficulty; but I ‘m not the man to lead you astray, and wreck such splendid principles; adieu!”

“I ‘ll ride, let it end how it may!” said Trafiford, angrily, and left the room at once, and hurried downstairs.

Sewell gave a parting look at himself in the glass; and as he set his hat jauntily on one side, said, “There ‘s nothing like a little mock indignation to bully fellows of his stamp; the keynote of their natures is the dread of being thought mean, and particularly of being thought mean by a woman.” He laughed pleasantly at this conceit, and went on his way.

CHAPTER XXXI. SEWELL ARRIVES IN DUBLIN

It was late at night when Sewell reached town. An accidental delay to the train deferred the arrival for upwards of an hour after the usual time; and when he reached the Priory, the house was all closed for the night, and not a light to be seen.

He knocked, however, and rang boldly; and after a brief delay, and considerable noise of unbolting and unbarring, was admitted. “We gave you up, sir, after twelve o’clock,” said the butler, half reproachfully, “and his Lordship ordered the servants to bed. Miss Lendrick, however, is in her drawing-room still.”

“Is there anything to eat, my good friend? That is what I stand most in need of just now.”

“There’s a cold rib of beef, sir, and a grouse pie; but if you ‘d like something hot, I ‘ll call the cook.”

“No, no, never mind the cook; you can give me some sherry, I ‘m sure?”

“Any wine you please, sir. We have excellent Madeira, which ain’t to be had everywhere nowadays.”

“Madeira be it, then; and order a fire in my room. I take it you have a room for me?”

“Yes, sir, all is ready; the bath was hot about an hour ago, and I ‘ll have it refreshed in a minute.”

“Now for the grouse pie. By the way, Fenton, what is the matter with his Lordship? He was n’t ill, was he, when he sent off that despatch to me?”

“No, sir; he was in court to-day, and he dined at the Castle, and was in excellent spirits before he went out.”

“Has anything gone wrong, then, that he wanted me up so hurriedly?”

“Well, sir, it ain’t so easy to say, his Lordship excites himself so readily; and mayhap he had words with some of the judges, – mayhap with his Excellency, for they ‘re always at him about resigning, little knowing that if they ‘d only let him alone he ‘d go of himself, but if they press him he ‘ll stay on these twenty years.”

“I don’t suspect he has got so many as twenty years before him.”

“If he wants to live, sir, he ‘ll do it. Ah, you may laugh, sir, but I have known him all my life, and I never saw the man like him to do the thing he wishes to do.”

“Cut me some of that beef, Fenton, and fetch me some draught beer. How these old tyrants make slaves of their servants,” said he, aloud, as the man left the room, – “a slavery that enthralls mind as well as body.” A gentle tap came to the door, and before Sewell could question the summons, Miss Lendrick entered. She greeted him cordially, and said how anxiously her grandfather had waited for him till midnight. “I don’t know when I saw him so eager or so impatient,” she said.

“Have you any clew to his reason for sending for me?” said he, as he continued to eat, and assumed an air of perfect unconcern.

“None whatever. He came into my room about two o’clock, and told me to write his message in a good bold hand; he seemed in his usual health, and his manner displayed nothing extraordinary. He questioned me about the time it would take to transmit the message from the town to your house, and seemed satisfied when I said about half an hour.”

“It’s just as likely, perhaps, to be some caprice, – some passing fancy.”

She shook her head dissentingly, but made no reply.

“I believe the theory of this house is, ‘he can do no wrong,’” said Sewell, with a laugh.

“He is so much more able in mind than all around him, such a theory might prevail; but I ‘ll not go so far as to say that it does.”

“It’s not his mind gives him his pre-eminence, Miss Lucy, – it’s his temper; it’s that same strong will that overcomes weaker natures by dint of sheer force. The people who assert their own way in life are not the most intellectual, they are only the best bullies.”

“You know very little of grandpapa, Colonel Sewell, that’s clear.”

“Are you so sure of that?” asked he, with a dubious-smile.

“I am sure of it, or in speaking of him you would never have used such a word as bully.”

“You mistake me, – mistake me altogether, young lady. I spoke of a class of people who employ certain defects of temper to supply the place of certain gifts of intellect; and if your grandfather, who has no occasion for it, chooses to take a weapon out of their armory, the worse taste his.”

Lucy turned fiercely round, her face flushed, and her lip trembling. An angry reply darted through her mind, but she repressed it by a great effort, and in a faint voice she said, “I hope you left Mrs. Sewell well?”

“Yes, perfectly well, amusing herself vastly. When I saw her last, she had about half a dozen young fellows cantering on either side of her, saying, doubtless, all those pleasant things that you ladies like to hear.”

Lucy shrugged her shoulders, without answering.

“Telling you,” continued he, in the same strain, “that if you are unmarried you are angels, and that if married you are angels and martyrs too; and it is really a subject that requires investigation, how the best of wives is not averse to hearing her husband does not half estimate her. Don’t toss your head so impatiently, my dear Miss Lucy; I am giving you the wise precepts of a very thoughtful life.”

“I had hoped, Colonel Sewell, that a very thoughtful life might have brought forth pleasanter reflections.” “No, that is precisely what it does not do. To live as long as I have, is to arrive at a point when all the shams have been seen through, and the world exhibits itself pretty much as a stage during a day rehearsal.”

“Well, sir, I am too young to profit by such experiences, and I will wish you a very good-night, – that is, if I can give no orders for anything you wish.”

“I have had everything. I will finish this Madeira – to your health – and hope to meet you in the morning, as beautiful and as trustful as I see you now, —felice notte.” He bowed as he opened the door for her to pass out, and she went, with a slight bend of the head and a faint smile, and left him.

“How I could make you beat your wings against your cage, for all your bravery, if I had only three days here, and cared to do it,” said he, as he poured the rest of the wine into his glass. “How weary I could make you of this old house and its old owner. Within one month – one short month – I ‘d have you repeating as wise saws every sneer and every sarcasm that you just now took fire at. And if I am to pass three days in this dreary old dungeon, I don’t see how I could do better. What can he possibly want with me?” All the imaginable contingencies he could conjure up now passed before his mind. That the old man was sick of solitude, and wanted him to come and live with them; that he was desirous of adopting one of the children, and which of them? then, that he had held some correspondence with Fossbrooke, and wanted some explanations, – a bitter pang, that racked and tortured him while he revolved it; and, last of all, he came back to his first guess, – it was about his will he had sent for him. He had been struck by the beauty of the children, and asked their names and ages twice or thrice over; doubtless he was bent on making some provision for them. “I wish I could tell him that I’d rather have ten thousand down, than thrice the sum settled on Reginald and the girls. I wish I could explain to him that mine is a ready-money business, and that cash is the secret of success; and I wish I could show him that no profits will stand the reverses of loans raised at two hundred per cent! I wonder how the match went off to-day; I’d like to have the odds that there were three men down at the double rail and bank.” Who got first over the brook, was his next speculation, and where was Trafford? “If he punished Crescy, I think I could tell that,” muttered he, with a grin of malice. “I only wish I was there to see it;” and in the delight this thought afforded he tossed off his last glass of wine, and rang for his bedroom candle.

“At what time shall I call you, sir?” asked the butler.

“When are you stirring here, – I mean, at what hour does Sir William breakfast?”

“He breakfasts at eight, sir, during term; but he does not expect to see any one but Miss Lucy so early.”

“I should think not. Call me at eleven, then, and bring me some coffee and a glass of rum when you come. Do you mean to tell me,” said he, in a somewhat stern tone, “that the Chief Baron gets up at seven o’clock?”

“In term-time, sir, he does every day.”

“Egad! I ‘m well pleased that I have not a seat on the Bench. I ‘d not be Lord Chancellor at that price.”

“It ‘s very hard on the servants, sir, – very hard indeed.”

“I suppose it is,” said Sewell, with a treacherous twinkle of the eye.

“If it was n’t that I’m expecting the usher’s place in the Court, I ‘d have resigned long ago.”

“His Lordship’s pleasant temper, however, makes up for everything, Fenton, eh?”

“Yes, sir, that’s true;” and they both laughed heartily at the pleasant conceit; and in this merry humor they went their several ways to bed.

CHAPTER XXXII. MORNING AT THE PRIORY

Sewell was awoke from a sound and heavy sleep by the Chief Baron’s valet asking if it was his pleasure to see his Lordship before he went down to Court, in which case there was not much time to be lost.

“How soon does he go?” asked Sewell, curtly.

“He likes to be on the Bench by eleven exactly, sir, and he has always some business in Chamber first.”

“All that tells me nothing, my good friend. How much time have I now to catch him in before he starts?”

“Half an hour, sir. Forty minutes, at most.”

“Well, I ‘ll try and do it. Say I ‘m in my bath, and that I ‘ll be with him immediately.”

The man was not well out of the room when Sewell burst out into a torrent of abuse of the old Judge and his ways: “His inordinate vanity, his consummate conceit, to imagine that any activity of an old worn-out intellect like his could be of service to the public! If he knew but all, he is just as useful in his nightcap as in his wig, and it would be fully as dignified to sleep in his bed as in the Court of Exchequer.” While he poured forth this invective, he dressed himself with all possible haste; indeed his ill-temper stimulated his alacrity, and he very soon issued from his room, trying to compose his features into a semblance of pleasure on meeting with his host.

“I hope and trust I have not disturbed you unreasonably,” said the Judge, rising from the breakfast-table, as Sewell entered. “I know you arrived very late, and I ‘d have given you a longer sleep if it were in my power.”

“An old soldier, my Lord, knows how to manage with very little. I am only sorry if I have kept you waiting.”

“No man ever presumed to keep me waiting, sir. It is a slight I have yet to experience.”

“I mean, my Lord, it would have grieved me much had I occasioned you an inconvenience.”

“If you had, sir, it might have reacted injuriously upon yourself.”

Sewell bowed submissively, for what he knew not; but he surmised that as there was an opening for regret, there might also be a reason for gratitude; he waited to see if he were right.

“My telegram only told you that I wanted you; it could not say for what,” continued the Judge; and his voice still retained the metallic ring the late irritation had lent it.

“There has been a contested question between the Crown and myself as to the patronage to an office in my Court. I have carried my point. They have yielded. They would have me believe that they have submitted out of deference to myself personally, my age, and long services. I know better, sir. They have taken the opinion of the Solicitor-General in England, who, with no flattering opinion of what is called ‘Irish law,’ has pronounced against them. The gift of the office rests with me, and it is my intention to confer it upon you.”

“Oh, my Lord, I have no words to express my gratitude!”

“Very well, sir, it shall be assumed to have been expressed. The salary is one thousand a year. The duties are almost nominal.”

“I was going to ask, my Lord, whether my education and habits are such as would enable me to discharge these duties?”

“I respect your conscientious scruple, sir. It is creditable and commendable. Your mind may, however, be at ease. Your immediate predecessor passed the last thirteen years at Tours, in France, and there was never a complaint of official irregularity till, three years ago, when he came over to afford his substitute a brief leave of absence, he forgot to sign his name to certain documents, – a mistake the less pardonable that his signature formed his whole and sole official drudgery.”

It was on Sewell’s lips to say, “that if he had not signed his name a little too frequently in life, his difficulties would not have been such as they now were.”

“I am afraid I did not catch what you said, sir,” said the Judge.

“I did not speak, my Lord,” replied he, bowing.

“You will see, therefore, sir, that the details of your official life need not deter you, although I have little doubt the Ministerial press will comment sharply upon your absence, if you give them the opportunity, and will reflect severely upon your unfitness, if they can detect a flaw in you. Is there anything, therefore, in your former life to which these writers can refer – I will not say disparagingly – but unpleasantly?”

“I am not aware, my Lord, of anything.”

“Of course, sir, I could not mean what might impugn your honor or affect your fame. I spoke simply of what soldiers are, perhaps, more exposed to than civilians, – the lighter scandals of society. You apprehend me?”

“I do, my Lord; and, I repeat that I have a very easy conscience on this score: for though I have filled some rather responsible stations at times, and been intrusted with high functions, all my tastes and habits have been so domestic and quiet – I have been so much more a man of home than a man of pleasure – that I have escaped even the common passing criticisms bestowed on people who are before the world.”