Lord Kilgobbin Part 97

'I was thinking of something I wanted to ask you. The fact is, Kearney, I have a thing on my mind now.'

'Is it a duel? It's many a day since I was out, but I used to know every step of the way as well as most men.'

'No, it's not a duel!'

'It's money, then! Bother it for money! What a deal of bad blood it leads to. Tell me all about it, and I'll see if I can't deal with it.'

'No, it's not money; it has nothing to do with money. I'm not hard up. I was never less so.'

'Indeed!' cried Kearney, staring at him.

'Why, what do you mean by that?'

'I was curious to see how a man looks, and I'd like to know how he feels, that didn't want money. I can no more understand it than if a man told me he didn't want air.'

'If he had enough to breathe freely, could he need more?'

'That would depend on the size of his lungs, and I believe mine are pretty big. But come now, if there's n.o.body you want to shoot, and you have a good balance at the banker's, what can ail you, except it's a girl you want to marry, and she won't have you?'

'Well, there is a lady in the case.'

'Ay, ay! she's a married woman,' cried Kearney, closing one eye, and looking intensely cunning. 'Then I may tell you at once, major, I'm no use to you whatever. If it was a young girl that liked you against the wish of her family, or that you were in love with though she was below you in condition, or that was promised to another man but wanted to get out of her bargain, I'm good for any of these, or scores more of the same kind; but if it's mischief, and misery, and lifelong sorrow you have in your head, you must look out for another adviser.'

'It's nothing of the kind,' said the other bluntly. 'It's marriage I was thinking of. I want to settle down and have a wife.'

'Then why couldn't you, if you think it would be any comfort to you?'

The last words were rather uttered than spoken, and sounded like a sad reflection uttered aloud.

'I am not a rich man,' said the major, with that strain it always cost him to speak of himself, 'but I have got enough to live on. A goodish old house, and a small estate, underlet as it is, bringing me about two thousand a year, and some expectations, as they call them, from an old grand-aunt.'

'You have enough, if you marry a prudent girl,' muttered Kearney, who was never happier than when advocating moderation and discretion.

'Enough, at least, not to look for money with a wife.'

'I'm with you there, heart and soul,' cried Kearney. 'Of all the shabby inventions of our civilisation, I don't know one as mean as that custom of giving a marriage-portion with a girl. Is it to induce a man to take her? Is it to pay for her board and lodging? Is it because marriage is a partners.h.i.+p, and she must bring her share into the "concern"? or is it to provide for the day when they are to part company, and each go his own road? Take it how you like, it's bad and it's shabby. If you're rich enough to give your daughter twenty or thirty thousand pounds, wait for some little family festival--her birthday, or her husband's birthday, or a Christmas gathering, or maybe a christening--and put the notes in her hand. Oh, major dear,' cried he aloud, 'if you knew how much of life you lose with lawyers, and what a deal of bad blood comes into the world by parchments, you'd see the wisdom of trusting more to human kindness and good feeling, and above all, to the honour of gentlemen--things that nowadays we always hope to secure by Act of Parliament.'

'I go with a great deal of what you say.'

'Why not with all of it? What do we gain by trying to overreach each other?

What advantage in a system where it's always the rogue that wins? If I was a king to-morrow, I'd rather fine a fellow for quoting Blackstone than for blasphemy, and I'd distribute all the law libraries in the kingdom as cheap fuel for the poor. We pray for peace and quietness, and we educate a special cla.s.s of people to keep us always wrangling. Where's the sense of that?'

While Kearney poured out these words in a flow of fervid conviction, they had arrived at a little open s.p.a.ce in the wood, from which various alleys led off in different directions. Along one of these, two figures were slowly moving side by side, whom Lockwood quickly recognised as Walpole and Nina Kostalergi. Kearney did not see them, for his attention was suddenly called off by a shout from a distance, and his son d.i.c.k rode hastily up to the spot.

'I have been in search of you all through the plantation,' cried he. 'I have brought back Holmes the lawyer from Tullamore, who wants to talk to you about this affair of Gorman's. It's going to be a bad business, I fear.'

'Isn't that more of what I was saying?' said the old man, turning to the major. 'There's law for you!'

'They're making what they call a "National" event of it,' continued d.i.c.k.

'The _Pike_ has opened a column of subscriptions to defray the cost of proceedings, and they've engaged Battersby with a hundred-guinea retainer already.'

It appeared from what tidings d.i.c.k brought back from the town, that the Nationalists--to give them the much unmerited name by which they called themselves--were determined to show how they could dictate to a jury.

'There's law for you!' cried the old man again.

'You'll have to take to vigilance committees, like the Yankees,' said the major.

'We've had them for years; but they only shoot their political opponents.'

'They say, too,' broke in the young man, 'that Donogan is in the town, and that it is he who has organised the whole prosecution. In fact, he intends to make Battersby's speech for the plaintiff a great declaration of the wrongs of Ireland; and as Battersby hates the Chief Baron, who will try the cause, he is determined to insult the Bench, even at the cost of a commitment.'

'What will he gain by that?' asked Lockwood.

'Every one cannot have a father that was hanged in '98; but any one can go to gaol for blackguarding a Chief-Justice,' said Kearney.

For a moment or two the old man seemed ashamed at having been led to make these confessions to 'the Saxon,' and telling Lockwood where he would be likely to find a brace of c.o.c.ks, he took his son's arm and returned homeward.

CHAPTER LXXVI

VERY CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION

When Lockwood returned, only in time to dress for dinner, Walpole, whose room adjoined his, threw open the door between them and entered. He had just accomplished a most careful 'tie,' and came in with the air of one fairly self-satisfied and happy.

'You look quite triumphant this evening,' said the major, half sulkily.

'So I am, old fellow; and so I have a right to be. It's all done and settled.'

'Already?'

'Ay, already. I asked her to take a stroll with me in the garden; but we sauntered off into the plantation. A woman always understands the exact amount of meaning a man has in a request of this kind, and her instinct reveals to her at once whether he is eager to tell her some bit of fatal scandal of one of her own friends, or to make her a declaration.'

A sort of sulky grunt was Lockwood's acknowledgment of this piece of abstract wisdom--a sort of knowledge he never listened to with much patience.

'I am aware,' said Walpole flippantly, 'the female nature was an omitted part in your education, Lockwood, and you take small interest in those nice distinctive traits which, to a man of the world, are exactly what the stars are to the mariner.'

'Finding out what a woman means by the stars does seem very poor fun.'

'Perhaps you prefer the moon for your observation,' replied Walpole; and the easy impertinence of his manner was almost too much for the other's patience.

'I don't care for your speculations--I want to hear what pa.s.sed between you and the Greek girl.'

'The Greek girl will in a very few days be Mrs. Walpole, and I shall crave a little more deference for the mention of her.'

'I forgot her name, or I should not have called her with such freedom! What is it?'