Roland Cashel Volume I Part 16

The scene was now one of almost maddening excitement; for, although the speed of the horse far exceeded that of his pursuer, the bull, by taking a small circle, was rapidly gaining on him, and, before the third circuit of the field was made, was actually almost side by side. Roland saw all his danger; he knew well that the slightest swerve, a "single mistake," would be fatal; but he had been trained to peril, and this was not the first time he had played for life and won. It was then, just at the instant when the bull, narrowing his distance, was ready, by one bound, to drive his horns into the horse's flank, that the youth suddenly reined up, and throwing the horse nearly on his haunches, suffered his pursuer to shoot ahead. The same instant, at least so it seemed, he rose in his stirrups, and winding the rope three or four times above his head, hurled it forth. Away went the floating coils through the air, and with a sharp snap, they caught the animal's fore-legs in their fast embrace. Maddened by the restraint, he plunged forward, but ere he gained the ground, a dexterous pull of the la.s.so jerked the legs backwards, and the huge beast fell floundering to the earth. The stunning force seemed enough to have extinguished life, and he lay, indeed, motionless for a few seconds, when, by a mighty effort, he strove to burst his bonds. Roland, meanwhile, after a severe struggle to induce his horse to approach, abandoned the effort, sprang to the ground, and by three or four adroit turns of the la.s.so over the head and between the horns, completely fettered him, and at each fresh struggle pa.s.sing new turns of the rope, he so bound him that the creature lay panting and powerless, his quivering sides and distended nostrils breathing the deep rage that possessed him.

"Ah, Mosquito mio,"--the Toridor's usual pet name for a young bull,--"you were an easy victory after all, though I believe with a little more practice of the game I should only get off second best."

There was, if we must confess it, a certain little bit of boastfulness in the speech, the truth being that the struggle, though brief, had been a sharp one, and so Cashel's air and look bespoke it, as he led his horse out of the paddock.

It would be a somewhat nice point--happily, it is not requisite to decide it--whether Roland was more flattered by the enthusiastic praise of the elder sister, or touched by the silent but eloquent look with which Olivia received him.

"What a splendid sight, what a n.o.ble achievement!" said Miss Kennyf.e.c.k.

"How I thank you for thus giving me, as it were, a peep into Spain, and letting me feel the glorious enthusiasm a deed of heroism can inspire!"

"Are you certain you are not hurt?" whispered Olivia; "the creature's horns certainly grazed you. Oh dear! how terrible it was at one moment!"

"Are you going to leave him in his toils?" said Miss Kennyf.e.c.k.

"Oh, certainly," replied Cashel, laughing; "I commit the pleasant office of liberating him to other hands." And so saying, he carelessly mounted his horse, while they pressed him with a hundred questions and inquiries about the late combat.

"I shall be amused to hear the reports that will be current to-morrow,"

said Miss Kennyf.e.c.k, "about this affair. I 'm certain the truth will be the last to ooze out. My groom says that the creature belongs to the Lord Lieutenant, and if so, there will be no end to the stories."

Cashel did not seem as much impressed as the sisters expected at this announcement, nor at all aware that he had been constructively affronting the Vice-Majesty of the land, and so he chatted away in pleasant indifference while they continued their ride towards home.

CHAPTER X. THE COMING DINNER-PARTY DISCUSSED

How kindness all its spirit lends, When we discuss our dearest friends, Not meanly faults and follies hiding, But frankly owning each backsliding, Confessing with polite compa.s.sion, "They 're very bad, but still the fas.h.i.+on."

The Mode.

The Kennyf.e.c.ks were without strangers that day, and Cashel, who was now, as it were by unanimous election, received into the bosom of the family, enjoyed for the first time in his life a peep into the science of dinner-giving, in the discussions occasioned by the approaching banquet.

No sooner were they a.s.sembled around the drawing-room fire, than Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, whose whole soul was occupied by the one event, took occasion, as it were by pure accident, to remember that they "were to have some people to-morrow." Now, the easy _nonchalance_ of the reminiscence and the shortness of the invitation would seem to imply that it was merely one of those slight deviations from daily routine which adds two or three guests to the family table; and so, indeed, did it impress Cashel, who little knew that the dinner in question had been devised, planned, and arranged full three weeks before, and the company packed with a degree of care and selection that evinced all the importance of the event.

Time was when the Irish capital enjoyed, and justly, the highest reputation for all that const.i.tutes social success; when around the dinner-tables of the city were met men of the highest order of intelligence, men pleased to exercise, without effort or display, all the charm of wit and eloquence, and to make society a brilliant reunion of those gifts which, in the wider sphere of active life, won fame and honors.

As the race of these bright conversers died out,--for, alas! they belonged to a past era,--their places were a.s.sumed by others of very dissimilar tastes. Many educated at English universities brought back with them to Ireland the more reserved and cautious demeanor of the other country, and thus, if not by their influence, by their mere presence, threw a degree of constraint over the tone of society, which, in destroying its freedom, despoiled it of all its charm.

Fas.h.i.+on, that idol of an Englishman's heart, soon became an Irish deity too, and it now grew the "ton" to be English, or at least what was supposed to be such, in dress and manner, in hours, accent, and demeanor. The attempt was never successful; the reserve and placidity which sit with gracefulness on the high-bred Englishman, was a stiff, uncourteous manner in the more cordial and volatile Irishman. His own demeanor was a tree that would not bear grafting, and the fruit lost all its raciness by the admixture.

The English officials at the Castle, the little staff of a commander of the forces, a newly-made bishop, fresh from Oxford, even the officers of the last arrived dragoon regiment, became, by right of "accent," the types of manner and breeding in circles where, in the actual enjoyment of social qualities, they were manifestly beneath those over whom they held sway; however, they were stamped at the metropolitan mint, and the compet.i.tors were deemed a mere depreciated currency which a few years more would cancel forever.

Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, as a fas.h.i.+onable dinner-giver, of course selected her company from this more choice section; a fact which deserves to be recorded, to the credit of her hospitality; for it was a very rare occurrence indeed, when she found herself invited by any of those distinguished personages who figured the oftenest at her own table. They thought, perhaps justly, that their condescension was sufficiently great to demand no further acknowledgment; and that, as virtue is said to be its own reward, theirs was abundantly exhibited in the frankness with which they ate Kennyf.e.c.k's venison, and drank his Burgundy, both of which were excellent.

Every one dined there, because they knew "they 'd meet every one." A pretender in the world of fas.h.i.+on, unlike a pretender to monarchy, is sure to have the best company in his _salon_; and so, although you might have met many at the tables of the first men of the country, who were there by virtue of their talents or abilities, at Kennyf.e.c.k's the company was sure to be "select." They could not afford dilution, lest they should find themselves at ease!

"Olivia, pray take that newspaper from Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k, and let us hear who he has asked to dinner to-morrow," said Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, gracefully imitating an att.i.tude of Lady Londonderry in the "Book of Beauty."

Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k heard the request, and started; his surprise had not been greater if the Chancellor had addressed him as "Tom." It was the first time in his life that an allusion had ever been made to the bare possibility of his inviting the company of a grand dinner; a prerogative he had never so much as dreamed of, and now he actually heard his wife refer to him, as if he were even a party to the deed.

"Invite! Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k. I 'm sure I never thought--"

"No matter what you thought," said his spouse, reddening at his stupidity. "I wanted to remember who are coming, that we may let Mr.

Cashel learn something of our Dublin folk."

"Here's a list, mamma," said Olivia; "and I believe there are no apologies. Shall I read it?"

"Do so, child," said she, but evidently out of humor that the delightful little display of indifference and ignorance should not have succeeded better.

"Sir Andrew and Lady Janet MacFarline, of course!" cried Miss Kennyf.e.c.k; "ain't they first?"

"They are," replied her sister.

"Sir Andrew, Mr. Cashel," said Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k, "is a very distinguished officer,--a K.C.B., and something else besides. He was in all the Duke's battles in Spain; a most gallant officer, but a little rough in manner,--Scotch, you know. Lady Janet was sister to Lord--What is that lord, Caroline? I always forget."

"Dumkeeran, mamma."

"Yes, that's it She is a charming person, but very proud,--very proud, indeed; will not visit with the Dublin people. With us, I must say, I have never seen anything like her kindness; we are absolutely like sisters. Go on, Olivia."

"Lord Charles Frobisher."

"And the Honorable Elliot St. John," chimed in her sister; "Damon and Pythias, where a dinner is concerned." This was said in a whisper.

"They are aides-de-camp to the Lord Lieutenant. Lord Charles is younger brother to the Duke of Derwent; quite a man of fas.h.i.+on, and so amusing.

Oh, he 's delightful!"

"Charming!" duetted the two sisters.

"Mr. St. John is a very nice person too; but one never knows him like Lord Charles: he is more reserved. Olivia, however, says he has a great deal in him."

"Oh, mamma! I 'm sure I don't know; I only thought him much more conversable than he gets credit for."

"Well, I meant no more," said her mother, who did not fancy the gathering gloom on Cashel's face at this allusion; "read on again, child."

"Lord Chief Justice Malone."

"Oh, Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k," said she, playfully, "this is _your_ doing; I suspected, from your confusion awhile ago, what you were at." Then, turning to Roland, she said, "He is always playing us this trick, Mr.

Cashel; whenever we have a few friends together, he will insist upon inviting some of his old bar cronies!"

A deep groan from Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k at the terrible profanity of thus styling the chief of the Common Pleas, made every one start; but even this, like a skilful tactician, Mrs. Kennyf.e.c.k turned to her own advantage.

"Pray don't sigh that way. He is a most excellent person, a great lawyer, and, they say, must eventually have the peerage." She nodded to Olivia to proceed, who read on.

"The Attorney-General and Mrs. Knivett."

"Oh, really, Mr. Kennyf.e.c.k, this is pus.h.i.+ng prerogative; don't you think so, Mr. Cashel? Not but, you know, the Attorney-General is a great personage in this poor country; he is member for--where is it?"