When Ulick was seven years of age, and Barker nine, Colonel Doran caught a bad cold, which developed into pneumonia, and died suddenly. Being much respected, he was accorded that final tribute and compliment, a great funeral; it was more than two miles long, and the boast among his retainers for many years.
“A nice, quiet kind man. God rest him! A real gentleman,” was his epitaph; and some went so far as to add—
“Faix, he has had a poor sort of life, and maybe he is glad to be out of it.”
Ten years had elapsed since the great funeral. The boys were growing up. Ulick’s godfather, Major Sutton, had sent him to Wellington, and occasionally invited him to London for a week, but Barker remained in Ireland, under his mother’s supervision, qualifying for the position of Master of Kilmoran; he had been a short time at school, and then, in answer to his fervid representations, his devoted parent had installed him at home with a resident tutor, whilst Ulick went to Sandhurst; for Ulick had decided to follow the usual career of a younger son, and was resolved to be a soldier.
CHAPTER III
Mrs. Doran, generally called Mrs. “Colonel” Doran, and by her retainers “the ould wan,” was well known to fame in the immediate region of her personal influence—that is to say, within a visiting distance of fifteen Irish miles from her own door. The lady cherished a delusion that she was one of the most prominent figures in the province, and if she had been persuaded to whisper her claims to this distinction, would have announced, “high birth, good breeding, and benevolence.” But alas! how differently do others see us! The reputation she bore was in startling contradiction to her illusions. People talked openly of Mrs. Doran’s arrogance, rudeness, and parsimony, and the lower orders boldly proclaimed her to be “a holy terror.” Her blustering tyranny, her meanness, and inflexible resolve to get more than her money’s worth, revolted the souls of her miserable retainers, whilst among the upper ten her systematic assumption of superiority, and barefaced endeavours to make use of every one, added to a malignant tongue, caused the lady to be not merely disliked, but feared. As for her benevolence, no one denied that she was a most indefatigable beggar. She begged boldly for money, blankets, and cast-off garments, and distributed the alms of other people; but she never contributed herself—indeed, the malicious went so far as to say that Mrs. Doran embezzled certain of these moneys, and put them in her pocket, believing that charity began in her own home; also, they declared that she gave the collected flannel, and blankets, to her servants, and wore the pick of the clothes herself! In fact, a certain class detested Mrs. Doran so intensely that they were ready to say or believe anything to her disadvantage.
Since the days when she came to Kilmoran, a showy and self-possessed bride, the lady was much changed, and was now a stout, red-faced matron, with a bustling gait, incredible energy, and a large balance at her banker’s. To give her her due, she had worked hard, and nursed the estate for her beloved Barky, who loafed through life, whilst his active mother held the reins of government. But even her bitterest foe could not deny that the Englishwoman had wrought improvements. There was now an imposing entrance, with gilded gates; on either pier sat a great stone wolf-hound (the crest of the once noble Dorans); a pretty pleasure-ground lay before the Castle; and a smart man-servant (on board wages), opened the door; but unfortunately nothing could be done for the Castle itself!—nothing short of razing it to the ground, and rebuilding it. The rooms were all suitably furnished, with the most modern antique treasures, including tapestry. A flag waved languidly from the roof of the ancient tower. Certainly the place looked both prosperous and pretentious. Mrs. Doran, in a smart landau with a pair of fine bays, scoured the country, and established intimate relations with all the people of wealth and position. To these she was affectionate, sympathetic, and even confidential; but she was not given to hospitality, and preferred to see her friends in their own homes. Two garden-parties per summer, and a couple of hunting luncheons, were the limit of her efforts. With the professional class Mrs. Doran was stand-off, and “an Earl’s grand-daughter” (unless she required a legal opinion, or a prescription), and she was a wonderful woman to borrow! The lower orders she simply looked upon as slaves. They were a race apart, and to these she was an autocrat, and a tyrant. Those who were unluckily her workmen, and born on the property, had to work longer than elsewhere. The bell clanged at six o’clock in the morning, and at six in the evening. The payment was one shilling a day—a penny an hour! And the active lady tramped round the fields herself, and saw that there was no idling. She did not trust her steward, in fact, she trusted no one, except Barky—it was for him she was toiling and saving; he should be a wealthy man yet, and marry into the peerage! Everything that made an outside show was properly maintained; but where matters were not open to the public eye, it was otherwise. There was a stinting in fires, in lamp-oil, in the servants’ food, in matches, yea, and in washing! Time, which had wrought changes in the property, had not improved its future owner. Barky, as he was called, had been firmly secured to his mother’s apron-strings and spoiled to his heart’s content. He was naturally a lazy, self-indulgent boor, stupid and stubborn, with an enormous conception of his own importance. Much of this might have been eliminated at a good public school—where he would have been compelled to bestir himself, yield to others, and realise his own true value. In appearance he was thick-set, with short legs, and a long body: naturally no horseman. He had cunning little dark eyes, a high colour, a thick neck, and slouched as he walked. He spoke with a common accent, and rarely opened a book or wrote a letter; but he was fond of smoking, and as devoted to cards and gambling as his unworthy ancestors. He enjoyed low company, yet had a most exalted idea of his own status. Ulick, at the age of seventeen, presented a complete contrast to his brother; he was tall and slender, and spoke with an English accent, until he became roused or excited, which was seldom; like his father, he was a born horseman—in fact, he resembled him in many ways, and inherited his parent’s popularity among the country people. Although Barker would unbend, and borrow sporting-papers from the coachman, and play “spoil fire” with stable-boys in the harness-room, yet for all this condescension his companions were never sure of him—he would “round on them” at a moment’s notice, no longer the jovial comrade, but the blustering, cursing master; whilst Mr. Ulick, who made no freedom, was always the same, and a gentleman!
Mrs. Doran was a keen woman of business, and by no means a bad farmer, save that she grudged a proper supply of manure, got all that she could off the land, and put but little back. Young horses were one of her adventures, and as a rule, though they are considered a risky investment, they paid her well. In the first place, she had an invaluable head groom, an ancient retainer, who, for the sake of the old master, stayed on, receiving small wages and enduring many indignities; no better judge of a three-year-old long-tail than Peter Duffy ever stood in an Irish fair. These he brought home, handled, rode, and sold, with most satisfactory results.