To frown at the “old rascal,” as he loved to call him,—to menace him with his fist as he passed,—to scowl at him as he sat before the fire, were, after all, the limits of his wrath; but still the picture exerted a certain influence over him, and actually inspired a sense of fear as well as a sense of hatred.
Am I imposing too much on my reader's memory by asking him to recall a certain Mr. O'Reardon, in whose humble dwelling at Cullen's Wood Sir Brook Fossbrooke was at one time a lodger? Mr. O'Reardon, though an official of one of the law courts, and a patriot by profession, may not have made that amount of impression necessary to retain a place in the reader's recollection, nor indeed is it my desire to be exacting on this head. He is not the very best of company, and we shall not see much of him.
When Sewell succeeded to the office of Registrar, which the old Judge carried against the Castle with a high hand, he found Mr. O'Reardon there; he had just been promoted to the rank of keeper of the waiting-room. In the same quick glance with which the shrewd Colonel was wont to single out a horse, and knew the exact sort of quality he possessed, he read this man, and saw with rapid intelligence the stuff he was made of, and the sort of service he could render.
He called him into his office, and, closing the door, asked him a few questions about his former life. O'Reardon, long accustomed to regard the man who spoke with an English accent as an easy dupe, launched out on his devoted loyalty, the perils it had cost him, the hate to which his English attachment exposed him from his countrymen, and the little reward all his long-proved fidelity had ever won him; but Sewell cut him suddenly short with: “Don't try any of this sort of balderdash upon me, old fellow,—it's only lost time: I've been dealing with blackguards of your stamp all my life, and I read them like print.”
“Oh! your honor, them's hard words,—blackguard, blackguard! to a decent man that always had a good name and a good character.”
“What I want you to understand is this,” said Sewell, scanning him keenly while he spoke, “and to understand it well: that if you intend to serve me, and make yourself useful in whatever way I see fit to employ you, there must be no humbug about it. The first lesson you have to learn is, never to imagine you can take me in. As I have just told you, I have had my education amongst fellows more than your masters in craft,—so don't lose your time in trying to outrogue me.”
“Your honor's practical,—I always like to serve a gentleman that's practical,” said the fellow, with a totally changed voice.
“That will do,—speak that way,—drop your infernal whine,—turn out your patriotic sentiments to grass, and we'll get on comfortably.”
“Be gorra! that's practical,—practical, every word of it.”
“Now the first thing I want is to know who are the people who come here. I shall require to be able to distinguish those who are accustomed to frequent the office from strangers; I suppose you know the attorneys and solicitors, all of them?”