'Say, can the lovely HEROINE hope to vie With a fat turtle or a ven'son pie?

But that is not our affair; let the Lady Isabel look to it.'

Dinner was announced; and no farther conversation of any consequence pa.s.sed between the count and Lord Colambre till the cloth was removed and the servants had withdrawn. Then our hero opened on the subject which was heavy at his heart.

'My dear count--to go back to the BURIAL PLACE OF THE NUGENTS, where my head was lost the first time I had the pleasure of seeing you--you know, or, possibly,' said he, smiling, 'you do not know, that I have a cousin of the name of Nugent?'

'You told me,' replied the count, 'that you had near relations of that name; but I do not recollect that you mentioned any one in particular.'

'I never named Miss Nugent to you. No! it is not easy to me to talk of her, and impossible to me to describe her. If you had come one half-hour sooner this morning, you would have seen her: I know she is exactly suited to your excellent taste. But it is not at first sight she pleases most; she gains upon the affections, attaches the heart, and unfolds upon the judgment. In temper, manners, and good sense, in every quality a man can or should desire in a wife, I never saw her equal. Yet, there is an obstacle, an invincible obstacle, the nature of which I cannot explain to you, that forbids me to think of her as a wife. She lives with my father and mother: they are returning to Ireland, I wished, earnestly wished, on many accounts, to have accompanied them, chiefly on my mother's; but it cannot be. The first thing a man must do is to act honourably; and, that he may do so, he must keep out of the way of a temptation which he believes to be above his strength. I will never see Miss Nugent again till she is married; I must either stay in England, or go abroad. I have a mind to serve a campaign or two, if I could get a commission in a regiment going to Spain; but I understand so many are eager to go at this moment, that it is very difficult to get a commission in such a regiment.'

'It is difficult,' said the count. 'But,' added he, after thinking for a moment, 'I have it! I can get the thing done for you, and directly.

Major Benson, in consequence of that affair, you know, about his mistress, is forced to quit the regiment. When the lieutenant-colonel came to quarters, and the rest of the officers heard the fact, they would not keep company with Benson, and would not mess with him. I know he wants to sell out; and that regiment is to be ordered immediately to Spain. I will have the thing done for you, if you request it.'

'First, give me your advice, Count O'Halloran; you are well acquainted with the military profession, with military life. Would you advise me--I won't speak of myself, because we judge better by general views than by particular cases--would you advise a young man at present to go into the army?'

The count was silent for a few minutes, and then replied: 'Since you seriously ask my opinion, my lord, I must lay aside my own prepossessions, and endeavour to speak with impartiality. To go into the army in these days, my lord, is, in my sober opinion, the most absurd and base, or the wisest and n.o.blest thing a young man can do. To enter into the army, with the hope of escaping from the application necessary to acquire knowledge, letters, and science--I run no risk, my lord, in saying this to you--to go into the army, with the hope of escaping from knowledge, letters, science, and morality; to wear a red coat and an epaulette; to be called captain; to figure at a ball; to lounge away time in country sports, at country quarters, was never, even in times of peace, creditable; but it is now absurd and base. Submitting to a certain portion of ennui and contempt, this mode of life for an officer was formerly practicable--but now cannot be submitted to without utter, irremediable disgrace. Officers are now, in general, men of education and information; want of knowledge, sense, manners, must consequently be immediately detected, ridiculed, and despised in a military man. Of this we have not long since seen lamentable examples in the raw officers who have lately disgraced themselves in my neighbourhood in Ireland--that Major Benson and Captain Williamson. But I will not advert to such insignificant individuals, such are rare exceptions--I leave them out of the question--I reason on general principles. The life of an officer is not now a life of parade, of c.o.xcombical, or of profligate idleness--but of active service, of continual hardship and danger. All the descriptions which we see in ancient history of a soldier's life--descriptions which, in times of peace, appeared like romance--are now realised; military exploits fill every day's newspapers, every day's conversation. A martial spirit is now essential to the liberty and the existence of our own country. In the present state of things, the military must be the most honourable profession, because the most useful. Every movement of an army is followed, wherever it goes, by the public hopes and fears. Every officer must now feel, besides this sense of collective importance, a belief that his only dependence must be on his own merit and thus his ambition, his enthusiasm, are raised; and when once this n.o.ble ardour is kindled in the breast, it excites to exertion, and supports under endurance. But I forget myself,' said the count, checking his enthusiasm; 'I promised to speak soberly. If I have said too much, your own good sense, my lord, will correct me, and your good-nature will forgive the prolixity of an old man, touched upon his favourite subject--the pa.s.sion of his youth.'

Lord Colambre, of course, a.s.sured the count that he was not tired.

Indeed, the enthusiasm with which this old officer spoke of his profession, and the high point of view in which he placed it, increased our hero's desire to serve a campaign abroad. Good sense, politeness, and experience of the world preserved Count O'Halloran from that foible with which old officers are commonly reproached, of talking continually of their own military exploits. Though retired from the world, he had contrived, by reading the best books, and corresponding with persons of good information, to keep up with the current of modern affairs; and he seldom spoke of those in which he had been formerly engaged. He rather too studiously avoided speaking of himself; and this fear of egotism diminished the peculiar interest he might have inspired: it disappointed curiosity, and deprived those with whom he conversed of many entertaining and instructive anecdotes. However, he sometimes made exceptions to his general rule in favour of persons who peculiarly pleased him, and Lord Colambre was of this number.

He this evening, for the first time, spoke to his lordship of the years he had spent in the Austrian service; told him anecdotes of the emperor; spoke of many distinguished public characters whom he had known abroad; of those officers who had been his friends and companions. Among others he mentioned, with particular regard, a young English officer who had been at the same time with him in the Austrian service, a gentleman of the name of Reynolds. The name struck Lord Colambre; it was the name of the officer who had been the cause of the disgrace of Miss St. Omar--of Miss Nugent's mother. 'But there are so many Reynoldses.'

He eagerly asked the age--the character of this officer.

'He was a gallant youth,' said the count, 'but too adventurous--too rash. He fell, after distinguishing himself in a glorious manner, in his twentieth year--died in my arms.' 'Married or unmarried?' cried Lord Colambre.

'Married--he had been privately married, less than a year before his death, to a very young English lady, who had been educated at a convent in Vienna. He was heir to a considerable property, I believe, and the young lady had little fortune; and the affair was kept secret from the fear of offending his friends, or for some other reason--I do not recollect the particulars.'

'Did he acknowledge his marriage?' said Lord Colambre.

'Never till he was dying--then he confided his secret to me.'

'Do you recollect the name of the young lady he married?' 'Yes--Miss St.

Omar.'

'St. Omar!' repeated Lord Colambre, with an expression of lively joy in his countenance. 'But are you certain, my dear count, that she was really married, legally married, to Mr. Reynolds? Her marriage has been denied by all his friends and relations--hers have never been able to establish it--her daughter is--My dear count, were you present at the marriage?'

'No,' said the count, 'I was not present at the marriage; I never saw the lady, nor do I know anything of the affair, except that Mr.

Reynolds, when he was dying, a.s.sured me that he was privately married to a Miss St. Omar, who was then boarding at a convent in Vienna. The young man expressed great regret at leaving her totally unprovided for; but said that he trusted his father would acknowledge her, and that her friends would be reconciled to her. He was not of age, he said, to make a will; but I think he told me that his child, who at that time was not born, would, even if it should be a girl, inherit a considerable property. With this, I cannot, however, charge my memory positively; but he put a packet into my hands which, he told me, contained a certificate of his marriage, and, I think he said, a letter to his father; this he requested that I would transmit to England by some safe hand.

Immediately after his death, I went to the English amba.s.sador, who was then leaving Vienna, and delivered the packet into his hands; he promised to have it safely delivered. I was obliged to go the next day, with the troops, to a distant part of the country. When I returned, I inquired at the convent what had become of Miss St. Omar--I should say Mrs. Reynolds; and I was told that she had removed from the convent to private lodgings in the town, some time previous to the birth of her child. The abbess seemed much scandalised by the whole transaction; and I remember I relieved her mind by a.s.suring her that there had been a regular marriage. For poor young Reynolds's sake, I made farther inquiries about the widow, intending, of course, to act as a friend, if she was in any difficulty or distress. But I found, on inquiry at her lodgings, that her brother had come from England for her, and had carried her and her infant away. The active scenes,' continued the count, 'in which I was immediately afterwards engaged, drove the whole affair from my mind. Now that your questions have recalled them, I feel certain of the facts I have mentioned; and I am ready to establish them by my testimony.'

Lord Colambre thanked him with an eagerness that showed how much he was interested in the event. It was clear, he said, either that the packet left with the amba.s.sador had not been delivered, or that the father of Mr. Reynolds had suppressed the certificate of the marriage, as it had never been acknowledged by him or by any of the family. Lord Colambre now frankly told the count why he was so anxious about this affair; and Count O'Halloran, with all the warmth of youth, and with all the ardent generosity characteristic of his country, entered into his feelings, declaring that he would never rest till he had established the truth.

'Unfortunately,' said the count, 'the amba.s.sador who took the packet in charge is dead. I am afraid we shall have difficulty.'

'But he must have had some secretary,' said Lord Colambre; 'who was his secretary?--we can apply to him.'

'His secretary is now CHARGE D'AFFAIRES in Vienna--we cannot get at him.'

'Into whose hands have that amba.s.sador's papers fallen--who is his executor?' said Lord Colambre.

'His executor!--now you have it,' cried the count. 'His executor is the very man who will do your business--your friend Sir James Brooke is the executor. All papers, of course, are in his hands; or he can have access to any that are in the hands of the family. The family seat is within a few miles of Sir James Brooke's, in Huntingdonshire, where, as I told you before, he now is.'

'I'll go to him immediately--set out in the mail this night. Just in time!' cried Lord Colambre, pulling out his watch with one hand, and ringing the bell with the other.

'Run and take a place for me in the mail for Huntingdon. Go directly,'

said Lord Colambre to the servant.

'And take two places, if you please, sir,' said the count. 'My lord, I will accompany you.'

But this Lord Colambre would not permit, as it would be unnecessary to fatigue the good old general; and a letter from him to Sir James Brooke would do all that the count could effect by his presence; the search for the papers would be made by Sir James, and if the packet could be recovered, or if any memorandum or mode of ascertaining that it had actually been delivered to old Reynolds could be discovered, Lord Colambre said he would then call upon the count for his a.s.sistance, and trouble him to identify the packet; or to go with him to Mr. Reynolds to make farther inquiries; and to certify, at all events, the young man's dying acknowledgment of his marriage and of his child.

The place in the mail, just in time, was taken. Lord Colambre sent a servant in search of his father, with a note explaining the necessity of his sudden departure. All the business which remained to be done in town he knew Lord Clonbrony could accomplish without his a.s.sistance. Then he wrote a few lines to his mother, on the very sheet of paper on which, a few hours before, he had sorrowfully and slowly begun--

MY DEAR MOTHER MISS NUGENT. He now joyfully and rapidly went on--MY DEAR MOTHER AND MISS NUGENT, I hope to be with you on Wednesday se'nnight; but if unforeseen circ.u.mstances should delay me, I will certainly write to you again.--Dear mother, believe me, your obliged and grateful son, COLAMBRE.

The count, in the meantime, wrote a letter for him to Sir James Brooke, describing the packet which he had given to the amba.s.sador, and relating all the circ.u.mstances that could lead to its recovery. Lord Colambre, almost before the wax was hard, seized possession of the letter; the count seeming almost as eager to hurry him off as he was to set out. He thanked the count with few words, but with strong feeling. Joy and love returned in full tide upon our hero's soul; all the military ideas, which but an hour before filled his imagination, were put to flight: Spain vanished, and green Ireland reappeared.

Just as they shook hands at parting, the good old general, with a smile, said to him, 'I believe I had better not stir in the matter of Benson's commission till I hear more from you. My harangue, in favour of the military profession, will, I fancy, prove like most other harangues, EN PURE PERTE.'

CHAPTER XVI

In what words of polite circ.u.mlocution, or of cautious diplomacy, shall we say, or hint, that the deceased amba.s.sador's papers were found in shameful disorder. His excellency's executor, Sir James Brooke, however, was indefatigable in his researches. He and Lord Colambre spent two whole days in looking over portfolios of letters and memorials, and manifestoes, and bundles of paper of the most heterogeneous sorts; some of them without any docket or direction to lead to a knowledge of their contents; others written upon in such a manner as to give an erroneous notion of their nature; so that it was necessary to untie every paper separately. At last, when they had opened, as they thought, every paper, and, wearied and in despair, were just on the point of giving up the search, Lord Colambre spied a bundle of old newspapers at the bottom of a trunk.

'They are only old Vienna Gazettes; I looked at them,' said Sir James.

Lord Colambre, upon this a.s.surance, was going to throw them into the trunk again; but observing that the bundle had not been untied, he opened it, and within-side of the newspapers he found a rough copy of the amba.s.sador's journal, and with it the packet, directed to Ralph Reynolds sen., Esq., Old Court, Suffolk, per favour of his excellency, Earl --, a note on the cover, signed O'Halloran, stating when received by him, and the date of the day when delivered to the amba.s.sador--seals unbroken. Our hero was in such a transport of joy at the sight of this packet, and his friend Sir James Brooke so full of his congratulations, that they forgot to curse the amba.s.sador's carelessness, which had been the cause of so much evil.

The next thing to be done was to deliver the packet to Ralph Reynolds, Old Court, Suffolk. But when Lord Colambre arrived at Old Court, Suffolk, he found all the gates locked, and no admittance to be had. At last an old woman came out of the porter's lodge, who said Mr. Reynolds was not there, and she could not say where he was. After our hero had opened her heart by the present of half a guinea, she explained, that she 'could not JUSTLY say where he was, because that he never let anybody of his own people know where he was any day; he had several different houses and places in different parts, and far-off counties, and other shires, as she heard, and by times he was at one, and by times at another.' The names of two of the places, Toddrington and Little Wrestham, she knew; but there were others to which she could give no direction. He had houses in odd parts of London, too, that he let; and sometimes, when the lodgers' time was out, he would go, and be never heard of for a month, maybe, in one of them. In short, there was no telling or saying where he was or would be one day of the week, by where he had been the last.'

When Lord Colambre expressed some surprise that an old gentleman, as he conceived Mr. Ralph Reynolds to be, should change places so frequently, the old woman answered, 'That though her master was a deal on the wrong side of seventy, and though, to look at him, you'd think he was glued to his chair, and would fall to pieces if he should stir out of it, yet was as alert, and thought no more of going about, than if he was as young as the gentleman who was now speaking to her. It was old Mr. Reynolds's delight to come down and surprise his people at his different places, and see that they were keeping all tight.'

'What sort of a man is he;--Is he a miser?' said Lord Colambre.

'He is a miser, and he is not a miser,' said the woman. 'Now he'd think as much of the waste of a penny as another man would of a hundred pounds, and yet he would give a hundred pounds easier than another would give a penny, when he's in the humour. But his humour is very odd, and there's no knowing where to have him; he's gross-grained, and more POSITIVER-like than a mule; and his deafness made him worse in this, because he never heard what n.o.body said, but would say on his own way--he was very ODD but not CRACKED--no, he was as clear-headed, when he took a thing the right way, as any man could be, and as clever, and could talk as well as any member of Parliament,--and good-natured, and kind-hearted, where he would take a fancy--but then, maybe, it would be to a dog (he was remarkable fond of dogs), or a cat, or a rat even, that he would take a fancy, and think more of 'em than he would of a Christian. But, Poor gentleman, there's great allowance,' said she, 'to be made for him, that lost his son and heir--that would have been heir to all, and a fine youth that he doted upon. But,' continued the old woman, in whose mind the transitions from GREAT to little, from serious to trivial, were ludicrously abrupt, 'that was no reason why the old gentleman should scold me last time he was here, as he did, for as long as ever he could stand over me, only because I killed a mouse who was eating my cheese; and, before night, he beat a boy for stealing a piece of that same cheese; and he would never, when down here, let me set a mouse-trap.'

'Well, my good woman,' interrupted Lord Colambre, who was little interested in this affair of the mouse-trap, and nowise curious to learn more of Mr. Reynolds's domestic economy, 'I'll not trouble you any farther, if you can be so good as to tell me the road to Toddrington, or to Little Wickham, I think you call it.'

Little Wickham!' repeated the woman, laughing--' Bless you, sir, where do you come from?--It's Little Wrestham; surely everybody knows, near Lantry; and keep the PIKE till you come to the turn at Rotherford, and then you strike off into the by-road to the left, and then again turn at the ford to the right. But, if you are going to Toddrington, you don't go the road to market, which is at the first turn to the left, and the cross-country road, where there's no quarter, and Toddrington lies--but for Wrestham, you take the road to market.'

It was some time before our hero could persuade the old woman to stick to Little Wrestham, or to Toddrington, and not to mix the directions for the different roads together--he took patience, for his impatience only confused his director the more. In process of time, he made out, and wrote down, the various turns that he was to follow, to reach Little Wrestham; but no human power could get her from Little Wrestham to Toddrington, though she knew the road perfectly well; but she had, for the seventeen last years, been used to go 'the other road,' and all the carriers went that way, and pa.s.sed the door, and that was all she could certify.

Little Wrestham, after turning to the left and right as often as his directory required, our hero happily reached; but, unhappily, he found no Mr. Reynolds there; only a steward, who gave nearly the same account of his master as had been given by the old woman, and could not guess even where the gentleman might now be. Toddrington was as likely as any place--but he could not say.

'Perseverance against fortune.' To Toddrington our hero proceeded, through cross-country roads--such roads!--very different from the Irish roads. Waggon ruts, into which the carriage wheels sunk nearly to the nave--and, from time to time, 'sloughs of despond,' through which it seemed impossible to drag, walk, wade, or swim, and all the time with a sulky postillion. 'Oh, how unlike my Larry!' thought Lord Colambre.