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.”
“Is this man—this Sir Brook Fossbrooke—one likely to occasion you any trouble?”
“In the first place, my Lord, he is out of the country, not very likely to return to it; and secondly, it is not in his power—not in any man 's power—to make me a subject for attack.”
“You are fortunate, sir; more fortunate than men who have served their country longer. It will scarcely be denied that I have contributed to the public service, and yet, sir, I have been arraigned before the bar of that insensate jury they call Public Opinion, and it is only in denying the jurisdiction I have deferred the award.”
Sewell responded to the vainglorious outburst by a look of admiring wonder, and the Judge smiled a gracious acceptance of the tribute. “I gather, therefore, sir, that you can accept this place without fear of what scandal or malignity may assail you by—”
“Yes, my Lord, I can say as much with confidence.”
“It is necessary, sir, that I should be satisfied on this-head. The very essence of the struggle between the Crown and myself is in the fact that my responsibility is pledged, my reputation is in bond for the integrity and the efficiency of this officer, and I will not leave to some future biographer of the Irish Chief Barons of the Exchequer the task of apology for one who was certainly not the least eminent of the line.”
“Your Lordship's high character shall not suffer through me,” said Sewell, bowing respectfully.
“The matter, then, is so far settled; perhaps, however, you would like to consult your wife? She might be averse to your leaving the army.”
“No, my Lord. She wishes—she has long wished it. We are both domestic in our tastes, and we have always-been looking to the time when we could live more for each other, and devote ourselves to the education of our children.”'
“Commendable and praiseworthy,” said the Judge, with a half grunt, as though he had heard something of this-same domesticity and home-happiness, but that his own experiences scarcely corroborated the report. “There are-certain steps you will have to take before leaving the service; it may, then, be better to defer your public nomination to this post till they be taken?”
This, which was said in question, Sewell answered at once, saying, “There need be no delay on this score, my Lord; by this day week I shall be free.”
“On this day week, then, you shall be duly sworn in. Now, there is another point—I throw it out simply as a suggestion—you will not receive it as more if you are indisposed to it. It may be some time before you can find a suitable house or be fully satisfied where to settle down. There is ample room here; one entire wing is unoccupied. May I beg to place it at your disposal?”
“Oh, my Lord, this is really too much kindness. You overwhelm me with obligations. I have never heard of such generosity.”
“Sir, it is not all generosity,—I reckon much on the value of your society. Your companionable qualities are gifts I would secure by a 'retainer.'”
“In your society, my Lord, the benefits would be all on my side.”
“There was a time, sir,—I may say it without boastful-ness,—men thought me an agreeable companion. The three Chiefs, as we were called from our separate Courts, were reputed to be able talkers. I am the sole survivor; and it would be a gain to those who care to look back on the really great days of Ireland, if some record should remain of a time when there were giants in the land. I have myself some very curious materials—masses of letters and such-like—which we may turn over some winter's evening together.”
Sewell professed his delight at such a prospect; and the Judge then, suddenly bethinking himself of the hour,—it was already nigh eleven,—arose. “Can I set you down anywhere? Are you for town?” asked he.
“Yes, my Lord; I was about to pay my mother a visit.”
“I 'll drop you there; perhaps you would convey a message from me, and say how grateful I should feel if she would give us her company at dinner,—say seven o'clock. I will just step up to say good-bye to my granddaughter, and be with you immediately.”
Sewell had not time to bethink him of all the strange events which a few minutes had grouped around him, when the Chief Baron appeared, and they set out.
As they drove along, their converse was most agreeable. Sewell's attentive manner was an admirable stimulant, and the old Judge was actually sorry to lose his companion, as the carriage stopped at Lady Lendrick's door.
“What on earth brought you up, Dudley?” said she, as he entered the room where she sat at breakfast.
“Let me have something to eat, and I 'll tell you,” said he, seating himself at table, and drawing towards him a dish of cutlets. “You may imagine what an appetite I have when I tell you whose guest I am.”
“Whose?”
“Your husband's.”
“You! at the Priory! and how came that to pass?”
“I told you already I must eat before I talk. When I got downstairs this morning, I found the old man just finishing his breakfast, and instead of asking me to join him, he entertained me with the siege of Derry, and some choice anecdotes of Lord Bristol and 'the Volunteers.' This coffee is cold.”
“Ring, and they 'll bring you some.”
“If I am to take him as a type of Irish hospitality as well as Irish agreeability, I must say I get rid of two delusions together.”
“There 's the coffee. Will you have eggs?”
“Yes, and a rasher along with them. You can afford to be liberal with the larder, mother, for I bring you an invitation to dine.”
“At the Priory?”
“Yes; he said seven o'clock.”
“Who dines there?”
“Himself and his granddaughter and I make the company, I believe.”
“Then I shall not go. I never do go when there 's not a party.”
“He's safer, I suppose, before people?”
“Just so. I could not trust to his temper under the temptation of a family circle. But what Drought you to town?”
“He sent for me by telegraph; just, too, when I had the whole county with me, and was booked to ride a match I had made with immense trouble. I got his message,—'Come up immediately.' There was not the slightest reason for haste, nor for the telegraph at all. The whole could have been done by letter, and replied to at leisure, besides—”
“What was it, then?”
“It is a place he has given me,—a Registrarship of something in his Court, that he has been fighting the Castle people about for eighteen years, and to which Heaven knows if he has the right of appointment this minute.”
“What'sit worth?”
“A thousand a year net. There were pickings,—at least, the last man made a good thing of them,—but there are to be no more. We are to inaugurate, as the newspapers say, a reign of integrity and incorruptibility.”
“So much the better.”
“So much the worse,” say I. “My motto is, Full batta and plenty of loot; and it's every man's motto, only that every man is not honest enough to own it.”
“And when are you to enter upon the duties of your office?”
“Immediately. I 'm to be sworn in—there's an oath, it seems—this day week, and we 're to take up our abode at the Priory till we find a house to suit us.”
“At the Priory?”
“Yes. May I light a cigarette, mother: only one? He gave the invitation most royally. A whole wing is to be at our disposal. He said nothing about the cook or the wine-cellar, and these are the very ingredients I want to secure.”
She shook her head dubiously, but made no answer.
“You don't think, then, that he meant to have us as his guests?”
“I think it unlikely.”
“How shall I find out? It's quite certain I 'll not go live under his roof—which means his surveillance—without an adequate compensation. I 'll only consent to being bored by being fed.”
“House-rent is something, however.”
“Yes, mother, but not everything. That old man would be inquiring who dined with me, how late he stayed, who came to supper, and what they did afterwards. Now, if he take the whole charge of us, I 'll put up with a great deal, because I could manage a little 'pied à terre' somewhere about Kingstown or Dalkey, and 'carry on' pleasantly enough. You must find out his intentions, mother, before I commit myself to an acceptance. You must, indeed.”
“Take my advice, Dudley, and look out for a house at once. You 'll not be in his three weeks.”
“I can submit to a great deal when it suits me, mother,” said he, with a derisive smile, and a look of intense treachery at the same time.
“I suppose you can,” said she, nodding in assent. “How is she?”
“As usual,” said he, with a shrug of the shoulders.
“And the children?”
“They are quite well. By the way, before I forget it, don't let the Judge know that I have already sent in my papers to sell out. I want him to believe that I do so now in consequence of his offer.”
“It is not likely we shall soon meet, and I may not have an opportunity of mentioning the matter.”
“You 'll come to dinner to-day, won't you?”
“No.”
“You ought, even out of gratitude on my account. It would be only commonly decent to thank him.”
“I could n't.”
“Couldn't what? Couldn't come, or couldn't thank him?”
“Could n't do either. You don't know, Dudley, that whenever our intercourse rises above the common passing courtesies of mere acquaintanceship, it is certain to end in a quarrel. We must never condemn or approve. We must never venture upon an opinion, lest it lead to a discussion, for discussion means a fight.”
“Pleasant, certainly,—pleasant and amiable too!”
“It would be better, perhaps, that I had some of that happy disposition of my son,” said she, with a cutting tone, “and could submit to whatever suited me.”
He started as if he had seen something, and turning on her a look of passionate anger, began: “Is it from you that this should come?” Then suddenly recollecting himself, he subdued his tone, and said: “We 'll not do better by losing our tempers. Can you put me in the way to raise a little money? I shall have the payment for my commission in about a fortnight; but I want a couple of hundred pounds at once.”
“It's not two months since you raised five hundred.”
“I know it, and there 's the last of it. I left Lucy ten sovereigns when I came away, and this twenty pounds is all that I now have in the world.”
“And all these fine dinners and grand entertainments that I have been told of,—what was the meaning of them?”
“They were what the railway people call 'preliminary expenses,' mother. Before one can get fellows to come to a house where there is play, there must be a sort of easy style of good living established that all men like: excellent dinners and good wine are the tame elephants, and without them you 'll not get the wild ones into your 'compounds.'”
“And to tell me that this could pay!”
“Ay, and pay splendidly. If I had three thousand pounds in the world to carry on with, I 'd see the old Judge and his rotten place at Jericho before I 'd accept it. One needs a little capital, that's all. It's just like blockade-running,—you must be able to lose three for one you succeed with.”
“I see nothing but ruin—disreputable ruin—in such a course.”
“Come down and look at it, mother, and you 'll change your mind. You 'll own you never saw a better ordered society in your life,—the beau idéal of a nice country-house on a small scale. I admit our chef is not a Frenchman, and I have only one fellow out of livery; but the thing is well done, I promise you. As for any serious play, you 'll never hear of it—never suspect it—no more than a man turning over Leech's sketches in a dentist's drawing-room suspects there's a fellow getting his eye-tooth extracted in the next room.”
“I disapprove of it all, Dudley. It is sure to end ill.”
“For that matter, mother, so shall I! All I have asked from Fate this many a year is a deferred sentence; a long day, my Lord,—a long day!”
“Tell Sir William I am sorry I can't dine at the Priory to-day. It is one of my cruel headache-days. Say you found me looking very poorly. It puts him in good-humor to hear it; and if you can get away in the evening, come in to tea.”
“You will think of this loan I want,—won't you?”
“I 'll think of it, but I don't know what good thinking will do.” She paused, and after a few minutes' silence, said, “If you really are serious about taking up your abode at the Priory, you 'll have to get rid of the granddaughter.”
“We could marry her off easily enough.”
“You might, and you mightn't. If she marry to Sir William's satisfaction, he'll leave her all he has in the world.”
“Egad, he must have a rare taste in a son-in-law if he likes the fellow I 'll promote to the place.”
“You seem to forget, Dudley, that the young lady has a will of her own. She's a Lendrick too.”
“With all my heart, mother. She 'll not be a match for Lucy.”
“And would she—”
“Ay, would she,” interrupted he, “if her pride as a woman—if her jealousy was touched. I have made her do more than that when I wounded her self-love!”
“You are a very amiable husband, I must say.”
“We might be better, perhaps, mother; but I suspect we are pretty much like our neighbors. And it's positive you won't come to dinner?”
“No! certainly not.”
“Well, I 'll try and look in at tea-time. You 'll not forget what I spoke of. I shall be in funds in less than three weeks.”
She gave a little incredulous laugh as she said “Goodbye!” She had heard of such pledges before, and knew well what faith to attach to them.