"_From you!_ Oh! no, sir, you cannot think me so ungrateful. I have not expressed, because I have not words--when I feel much, I never can say any thing; yet believe me, sir, I do feel your kindness, and all the warm fatherly interest you have this night shown that you have for me:--but I am in a hurry to tell my good friends the Cambrays, who I know are impatient for my return, and I fear I am keeping them up beyond their usual hour."

"Not at all--besides--good Heavens! can't they sit up a quarter of an hour, if they are so much interested?--Stay, you really hurry my slow wits--one thing more I had to say--pray, may I ask to _which_ of the Miss Cambrays is it that you are so impatient to impart your good fortune?"

"To both, sir," said Ormond--"equally."

"Both!--you unconscionable dog, polygamy is not permitted in these countries--Both! no, try again for a better answer; though that was no bad one at the first blush."

"I have no other answer to give than the plain truth, sir: I am thinking neither of polygamy nor even of marriage at present. These young ladies are both very amiable, very handsome, and very agreeable; but, in short, we are not thinking of one another--indeed, I believe they are engaged."

"Engaged!--Oh! then you have thought about these young ladies enough to find that out. Well, this saves your gallantry--good night."

Sir Ulick had this evening taken a vast deal of superfluous pains to sound a mind, which lay open before him, clear to the very bottom; but because it was so clear, he could not believe that he saw the bottom. He did not much like Dr. Cambray--Father Jos was right there. Dr. Cambray was one of those simple characters which puzzled Sir Ulick--the idea of these Miss Cambrays, of the possibility of his ward's having formed an attachment that might interfere with his views, disturbed Sir Ulick's rest this night. His first operation in the morning was to walk down unexpectedly early to Vicar's Dale. He found Ormond with Dr. Cambray, very busy, examining a plan which the doctor had sketched for a new cottage for Moriarty--a mason was standing by, talking of sand, lime, and stones. "But the young ladies, where are they?" Sir Ulick asked.

Ormond did not know. Mrs. Cambray, who was quietly reading, said she supposed they were in their gardens; and not in the least suspecting Sir Ulick's suspicions, she was glad to see him, and gave credit to his neighbourly good-will for the earliness of this visit, without waiting even for the doctor to pay his respects first, as he intended to do at Castle Hermitage.

"Oh! as to that," Sir Ulick said, "he did not intend to live on terms of ceremony with Dr. Cambray--he was impatient to take the first opportunity of thanking the doctor for his attentions to his ward."

Sir Ulick's quick eye saw on the table in Harry's handwriting the _list of books to be read_. He took it up, looked it over, and with a smile asked, "Any thoughts of the church, Harry?"

"No, sir; it would be rather late for me to think of the church. I should never prepare myself properly."

"Besides," said Sir Ulick, "I have no living in my gift; but if,"

continued he, in a tone of irony, "if, as I should opine from the list I hold in my hand--you look to a college living, my boy--if you are bent upon reading for a fellowship--I don't doubt but with Dr. Cambray's a.s.sistance, and with some _grinder_ and _crammer_, we might get you cleverly through all the college examinations. And doctor, if he did not, in going through some of the college courses, die of a logical indigestion, or a cla.s.sical fever, or a metaphysical lethargy, he might shine in the dignity of Trin. Coll. Dub., and, mad Mathesis inspiring, might teach eternally how the line AB is equal to the line CD,--or why poor X Y Z are unknown quant.i.ties. Ah! my dear boy, think of the pleasure, the glory of lecturing cla.s.ses of _ignoramuses_, and dunces yet unborn!"

Harry, no way disconcerted, laughed good-humouredly with his guardian, and replied, "At present, sir, my ambition reaches no farther than to escape myself from the cla.s.s of dunces and ignoramuses. I am conscious that at present I am very deficient."

"_In_ what, my dear boy?--To make your complaint English, you must say deficient in some thing or other--'tis an _Iricism_ to say in general that you are _very deficient._"

"There is one of my particular deficiencies then you see, sir--I am deficient in English."

"You are not deficient in temper, I am sure," said Sir Ulick: "come, come, you may be tolerably well contented with yourself."

"Ignorant as I am!--No," said Ormond, "I will never sit down content in ignorance. Now that I have the fortune of a gentleman, it would be so much the more conspicuous, more scandalous--now that I have every way the means, I will, by the blessing of Heaven, and with the help of kind friends, make myself something more and something better than I am."

"Gad! you are a fine fellow, Harry Ormond," cried Sir Ulick: "I remember having once, at your age, such feelings and notions myself."

"Very unlike the first thoughts and feelings many young men would have on coming into unexpected possession of a fortune," said Dr. Cambray.

"True," said Sir Ulick, "and we must keep his counsel, that he may not be dubbed a quiz--not a word of this sort, Harry, for the Darrells, the Lardners, or the Dartfords."

"I don't care whether they dub me a quiz or not," said Harry, hastily: "what are Darrells, Lardners, or Dartfords to me?"

"They are something to _me_," said Sir Ulick.

"Oh! I beg pardon, sir--I didn't know that--that makes it quite another affair."

"And, Harry, as you are to meet these young men, I thought it well to try how you could bear to be laughed at--I have tried you in this very conversation, and found you, to my infinite satisfaction, _ridicule proof_--better than even _bullet proof_--much better. No danger that a young man of spirit should be bullied out of his opinion and principles, but great danger that he might be _laughed_ out of them--and I rejoice, my dear ward, to see that you are safe from this peril."

Benevolent pleasure shone in Dr. Cambray's countenance, when he heard Sir Ulick speak in this manner.

"You will dine with us, Dr. Cambray?" said Sir Ulick. "Harry, you will not forget Castle Hermitage?"

"Forget Castle Hermitage! as if I could, where I spent my happy childhood--that paradise, as it seemed to me the first time--when, a poor little orphan boy, I was brought from my smoky cabin. I remember the day as well as if it were this moment--when you took me by the hand, and led me in, and I clung to you."

"Cling to me still! cling to me ever," interrupted Sir Ulick, "and I will never fail you--no, never," repeated he, grasping Harry's hand, and looking upon him with an emotion of affection, strongly felt, and therefore strongly expressed.

"To be sure I will," said Harry.

"And I hope," added Sir Ulick, recovering the gaiety of his tone, "that at Castle Hermitage a paradise will open for your youth as it opened for your childhood."

Mrs. Cambray put in a word of hope and fear about Vicar's Dale. To which Ormond answered, "Never fear, Mrs. Cambray--trust me--I know my own interest too well."

Sir Ulick turning again as he was leaving the room, said with an air of frank liberality, "We'll settle that at once--we'll divide Harry between us--or we'll divide his day thus: the mornings I leave you to your friends and studies for an hour or two Harry, in this Vale of Eden--the rest of the day we must have you--men and books best mixed--see Bacon, and see every clever man that ever wrote or spoke. So here," added Sir Ulick, pointing to a map of history, which lay on the table, "you will have _The Stream of Time_, and with us _Le Courant du Jour."_

Sir Ulick departed. During the whole of this conversation, and of that of the preceding night, while he seemed to be talking at random of different things, unconnected and of opposite sorts, he had carefully attended to one object. Going round the whole circle of human motives--love, ambition, interest, ease, pleasure, he had made accurate observation on his ward's mind; and reversing the order, he went round another way, and repeated and corrected his observations. The points he had strongly noted for practical use were, that for retaining influence over his ward, he must depend not upon interested motives of any kind, nor upon the force of authority or precedent, nor yet on the power of ridicule, but princ.i.p.ally upon feelings of honour, grat.i.tude, and generosity. Harry now no longer crossed any of his projects, but was become himself the means of carrying many into execution. The plan of a match for Marcus with Miss Annaly was entirely at an end. That young lady had given a decided refusal; and some circ.u.mstances, which we cannot here stop to explain, rendered Marcus and his father easy under that disappointment. No jealousy or compet.i.tion existing, therefore, any longer between his son and ward, Sir Ulick's affection for Ormond returned in full tide; nor did he reproach himself for having banished Harry from Castle Hermitage, or for having formerly neglected, and almost forgotten him for two or three years. Sir Ulick took the matter up just as easily as he had laid it down--he now looked on Harry not as the youth whom he had deserted, but as the orphan boy whom he had cherished in adversity, and whom he had a consequent right to produce and patronize in prosperity. Beyond, or beneath all this, there was another reason why Sir Ulick took so much pains, and felt so much anxiety, to establish his influence over his ward. This reason cannot yet be mentioned--he had hardly revealed it to himself--it was deep down in his soul--to be or not to be--as circ.u.mstances, time, and the hour, should decide.

CHAPTER XIX.

After having lived so long in retirement, our young hero, when he was to go into company again, had many fears that his manners would appear rustic and unfashioned. With all these apprehensions as to his manners there was mixed a large proportion of pride of character, which tended rather to increase than to diminish his apparent timidity. He dreaded that people would value him, or think that he valued himself, for his newly acquired fortune, instead of his good qualities: he feared that he should be flattered; and he feared that he should like flattery. In the midst of all these various and contradictory apprehensions, he would perhaps have been awkward and miserable, had he been introduced into society by one who had less knowledge of the world, or less knowledge of the human heart, than Sir Ulick O'Shane possessed. Sir Ulick treated him as if he had always lived in good company. Without presupposing any ignorance, he at the same time took care to warn him of any etiquette or modern fashion, so that no one should perceive the warning but themselves. He neither offended Ormond's pride by seeming to patronize or _produce_ him, nor did he let his timidity suffer from uncertainty or neglect. Ormond's fortune was never adverted to, in any way that could hurt his desire to be valued for his own sake; but he was made to feel that it was a part, and a very agreeable part, of his personal merit.

Managed in this kind and skilful manner, he became perfectly at ease and happy. His spirits rose, and he enjoyed every thing with the warmth of youth, and with the enthusiasm of his natural character.

The first evening that "the earthly paradise" of Castle Hermitage re-opened upon his view, he was presented to all the well-dressed, well-bred belles. Black, brown, and fair, for the first hour appeared to him all beautiful. His guardian standing apart, and seeming to listen to a castle secretary, who was whispering to him of state affairs, observed all that was pa.s.sing.

Contrary to his guardian's expectations, however, Ormond was the next morning faithful to his resolution, and did not appear among the angels at the breakfast-table at Castle Hermitage. "It won't last a good week,"

said Sir Ulick to himself. But that good week, and the next, it lasted.

Harry's studies, to be sure, were sometimes interrupted by floating visions of the Miss Darrells, Dartfords, and Lardners. He every now and then sung bits of their songs, repeated their bon-mots, and from time to time laying down his book, started up and practised quadrille steps, to refresh himself, and increase his attention. His representations of all he saw and heard at Castle Hermitage, and his frank and natural description of the impression that every thing and every body made upon him, were amusing and interesting to his friends at Vicar's Dale. It was not by satire that he amused them, but by simplicity mixed with humour and good sense--good sense sometimes half opening his eyes, and humour describing what he saw with those eyes, half open, half shut.

"Pray what sort of people are the Darrells and Dartfords?" said Mrs.

Cambray.

"Oh! delightful--the girls especially--sing like angels."

"Well, the ladies I know are all angels with you at present--that you have told us several times."

"It's really true, I believe--at least as far as I can see: but you know I have not had time to see farther than the outside yet."

"The gentlemen, however--I suppose you have seen the inside of some of them?"

"Certainly--those who have any thing inside of them--Dartford, for instance."

"Well, Mr. Dartford, he is the man Sir Ulick said was so clever."

"Very clever--he is--I suppose, though I don't really recollect any thing remarkable that I have heard him say. But the wit must be _in_ him--and he lets out a good deal of his opinions--of his opinion of himself a little too much. But he is much admired."

"And Mr. Darrell--what of him?"

"Very fashionable. But indeed all I know about him is, that his dress is _quite the thing_, and that he knows more about dishes and cooks than I could have conceived any man upon earth of his age could know--but they say it's the fashion--he is very fashionable, I hear."