“I know it well; the man is one of the richest in England; the head of a great bank, besides, making thousands every week.”
“I often thought of that,” said Dalton. “Sure it would cost him little just to discount a small thing for me at three months. I'd take care to meet it, of course; and he'd never lose a sixpence by me. Indeed, he'd be gaining; for he 'd have the commission, and the discount, and the interest, and the devil knows what besides of law expenses—”
Here he stopped abruptly, for he had unwittingly strayed into another and very different hypothesis regarding the fate of his bill. However, he pulled up short, tossed off his punch, and said, “I only wish he 'd do it!”
“Why not try him, then? you ought, at least, to give yourself the chance.”
“And, if he refused me, I'd have to call him out,” said Dalton, gravely; “and just see all the confusion that would lead to. My daughter on a visit there, myself here, and, maybe, obliged to go hundreds of miles to meet him, and no end to the expense, taking a friend with me, too. No, no! that would be too selfish entirely.”
“What if you were to throw out a hint, when you write to your daughter, allude to present pressure for money; speak of tenants in arrear; remittances not arrived?”
“Oh, faith! there's no need prompting me about these things,” said Dalton, with a bitter laugh. “I know them too well already.”
“Write a few lines, then; you'll find paper and pens on that table. I 've told you that I will send it under my own seal, with the despatches.”
Dalton was very little given to letter-writing at any period; but to encounter the labor at night by candle-light, and after a few hours' carouse, seemed to him quite out of the question. Still, the Embassy seal, whatever that might be, was no common temptation. Perhaps he fancied it to be like one of those portentous appendages which are seen attached to royal grants! Who can tell what amount of wax and ribbon his imagination bestowed upon it! Besides this, there was another motive, never again, perhaps, should he be able to write without Nelly's knowledge. This consideration decided the question at once. Accordingly, he put on his spectacles, and seated himself gravely to the work, which proceeded thus:
DEAR KATE, I 'm spending the evening with your friend the
Ambassador of I forget where—Fogles is his name and as
pleasant a man as I ever met; and he sends his regards to
you and all the family, and transmits this under his own
seal. Things is going on bad enough here. Not a shilling out
of Crognoborraghan. Healey ran away with the November rent
and the crops, and Sweeney 's got into the place, and won't
give it up to any one with out he gets forty pound! I 'd
give him forty of my teeth as soon, if I had them! Ryan
shot Mr. Johnson coming home from work, and will be hanged
on Saturday; and that 's in our favor, as he was a life in
Honan's lease. There 's no money in Ireland, Kellet tells
me, and there 's none here. Where the blazes is it all gone
to? Maybe, like the potatoes 't is dying out!
Frank 's well sick of soldiering; they chained him up like
a dog, with his hand to his leg, the other night for going
to the play; and if he was n't a born gentleman, he says,
they 'd have given him “four-and-twenty,” as he calls it,
with a stick for impudence. Stephen 's no more good to him
than an old umbrella, never gave him bit nor sup! Bad luck
to the old Neygur I can't speak of him.
Nelly goes on carving and cutting away as before. There 's
not a saint in the calendar she did n't make out of rotten
wood this winter, and little Hans buys them all, at a fair
price, she says; but I call a Holy Family cheap at ten
florins, and 't is giving the Virgin away to sell her for a
Prussian dollar. 'T is a nice way for one of the Daltons to
be living by her own industry!
I often wish for you back here; but I 'd be sorry, after
all, ye 'd come, for the place is poorer than ever, and you
're in good quarters, and snug where you are.
Tell me how they treat you if they're as kind as before and
how is the old man, and is the gout bad with him still? I
send you in this a little bill Martin Cox, of Drumsnagh,
enclosed me for sixty-two ten-and-eight. Could you get the
old Baronet to put his name on it for me? Tell him 't is as
good as the bank paper, that Cox is as respectable a man as
any in Leitrim, and an estated gentleman, like myself, and
of course that we'll take care to have the cash ready for it
when due. This will be a great convenience to me, and Fogles
says it will be a pleasure to Sir Stafford, besides
extending his connection among Irish gentlemen. If he seems
to like the notion, say that your father is well known in
Ireland, and can help him to a very lively business in the
same way. Indeed, I 'd have been a fortune to him myself
alone, if he 'd had the discounting of me for the last
fifteen years!
Never mind this, however, for bragging is not genteel; but
get me his name, and send me the “bit of stiff” by return of
post.
If he wants to be civil, maybe he 'll put it into the bank
himself, and send me the money; and if so, let the order be
on Haller and Oelcher, for I 'ne a long account with Koch
and Elz, and maybe they 'd keep a grip of the cash, and I 'd
just be where I was before.
If I can get out of this next spring—it would be a great
economy, for I owe something to everybody, and a new place
always gives courage.
I 'm hesitating whether I 'll go to Genoa or New York, but
cheapness will decide me, for I only live now for my family.
With all my affection,
Believe me your fond father,
PETER DALTON.
P. S. If Sir S. would rather have my own acceptance, let him
draw for a hundred, at three months, and I 'm ready; but
don't disappoint me, one way or other. Wood is fifteen
florins a “klafter” here, now, and I 've nobody to cut it
when it comes home, as Andy took a slice out of his shin on
Friday last with the hatchet, and is in bed ever since.
Vegetables, too, is dear; and since Frank went, we never
see a bit of game.
2nd P. S. If you had such a thing as a warm winter cloak
that you did n't want, you might send it to Nelly. She goes
out in a thing like a bit of brown paper, and the wooden
shoes is mighty unhandy with her lameness.
Mind the bill.