“How poor and narrow-minded would be such a judgment!” replied she, warmly. “There is an earnestness in high purpose no self-seeking could ever counterfeit.”
“That is true,—quite true,” said he; “but are you so certain that the world makes the distinction? Does not the vulgar estimate confound the philanthropist with the speculator? I say this with sorrow.” said he, painfully, “for I myself am the victim of this very injustice.” He paused for a few seconds, and then rising, he said, “Let us stroll along the river-side; we have both worked enough for the day.” She arose at once, and followed him. “It is ever an ungracious theme,—one's self,” said he, as they walked along; “but, somehow, I am compelled to talk to you, and, if you will allow me, confidentially.” He did not wait for a reply, but went on: “There was, in the time of the French Regency, a man named Law, who, by dint of deep study and much labor, arrived at the discovery of a great financial scheme; so vast, so comprehensive, and so complete was it, that not only was it able to rescue the condition of the State from bankruptcy, but it disseminated through the trading-classes of the nation the sound principles of credit on which alone commerce can be based. Now, this man—a man of unquestionable genius and, if benefits to one's species gave a just title to the name, a philanthropist—lived to see the great discovery he had made prostituted to the basest arts of scheming speculators. From the Prince, who was his patron, to the humblest agent of the Bourse, he met nothing but duplicity, falsehood, and treachery, and he ended in being driven in shame and ignominy from the land he had succeeded in rescuing from impending rain! You will say that the people and the age explain much of this base ingratitude; but, believe me, nations and eras are wonderfully alike. The good and evil of this world go on repeating themselves in cycles with a marvellous regularity. The fate which befell Law may overtake any who will endeavor to imitate him; there is but one condition which can avert this catastrophe, and that is success. Law had too long deferred to provide for his own security. Too much occupied with his grand problem, he had made himself neither rich nor great, so that when the hour of adversity came no barriers of wealth or power stood between him and his enemies. Had he foreseen this catastrophe,—had he anticipated it,—he might have so dovetailed his own interests with those of the State that attack upon one involved the fate of the other. But Law did nothing of the kind; he made friends of Princes, and with the fortune that attaches to such friendships, he fell!” For some minutes he walked along at her side without speaking, and then resumed: “With all these facts before me, I, too, see that Law's fate may be my own!”
“But have you—” When she had gone thus far, Sybella stopped, and blushed deeply, unable to continue.
“Yes,” said he, answering what might have been her words,—“yes, it was my ambition to have been to Ireland what Law was to France,—not what calumny and injustice have pictured him, remember, but the great reformer, the great financier, the great philanthropist,—to make this faction-torn land a great and united nation. To develop the resources of the richest country in Europe was no mean ambition, and he who even aspired to it was worthy of a better recompense than attack and insult.”
“I have seen none of these,” broke she in. “Indeed, so long as I remember, I can call to mind only eulogies of your zeal, praises of your intelligence, and the grandeur of your designs.”
“There are such, however,” said he, gloomily; “they are the first low murmurings, too, of a storm that will come in full force hereafter! Let it come,” muttered he, below his breath. “If I am to fall, it shall be like Samson, and the temple shall fall with me.”
Sybella did not catch his words, but the look of his features as he spoke them made her almost shudder with terror.
“Let us turn back,” said she; “it is growing late.”
Without speaking, Dunn turned his steps towards the cottage, and walked along in deep thought.
“Mr. Hankes has come, sir,” said Dunn's servant, as he reached the door. And without even a word, Dunn hastened to his own room.