"Ah, I perceive," said Crow, with a significant motion of his eyebrows.

"You thought that his name would be against him, and that people would say, 'Is n't he the son of old Moore Ma.s.singbred, that took his bribe for the Union?'"

"This is intolerable," cried Nelligan, starting up from his seat and speaking with all the vehemence of outraged feelings. "It is to Colonel Ma.s.singbred himself you have dared to address this impertinence."

"What--how--what's this!" exclaimed Crow, in a perfect horror of shame.

"The fault, if there be any, is all mine, sir," said the Colonel, pressing him down into his seat. "I would not have lost the animated description you have just given me, uttered, as it was, in such perfect frankness, for any consideration; least of all, at the small price of hearing a public expression on a public man's conduct. Pray, now, continue to use the same frankness, and tell me anything more that occurs to you about this remarkable contest."

This appeal, uttered in all the ease of a well-bred manner, was quite unsuccessful. Mr. Crow sat perfectly horrified with himself, endeavoring to remember what possible extent of offence he might have been betrayed into by his narrative. As for Nelligan, his shame and confusion were even greater still; and he sat gazing ruefully and reproachfully at the unlucky painter.

Colonel Ma.s.singbred made one or two more efforts to relieve the awkwardness of the incident, but so palpably fruitless were the attempts that he desisted, and arose to take his leave. As Joe accompanied him to the door, he tried to blunder out some words of excuse. "My dear Mr.

Nelligan," broke in the other, with a quiet laugh, "don't imagine for a moment that I am offended. In the first place, your friend was the bearer of very pleasant tidings, for Jack has not condescended to write to me about his success; and secondly, public life is such a stern schoolmaster, that men like myself get accustomed to rather rough usage, particularly at the hands of those who do not know us. And now, as I am very unwilling to include you in this category, when will you come and see me? What day will you dine with me?"

Nelligan blushed and faltered, just as many another awkward man has done in a similar circ.u.mstance; for, however an easy matter for you, my dear sir, with all your tact and social readiness, to fix the day it will suit you to accept of an almost stranger's hospitality, Joseph had no such self-possession, and only stammered and grew crimson.

"Shall it be on Sat.u.r.day? for to-morrow I am engaged to the Chancellor, and on Friday I dine with his Excellency. Will Sat.u.r.day suit you?" asked the Colonel.

"Yes, sir, perfectly; with much pleasure," answered Nelligan.

"Then Sat.u.r.day be it, and at seven o'clock," said Ma.s.singbred, shaking his hand most cordially; while Joe, with sorrowful step, returned to his chamber.

"Well, I think I did it there, at all events!" cried Simmy, as the other entered. "But what, in the name of all that's barefaced, prevented your stopping me? Why did n't you pull me up short before I made a beast of myself?"

"How could I? You rushed along like a swollen river. You were so full of your blessed subject that you would n't heed an interruption; and as to signs and gestures, I made twenty without being able to catch your eye."

"I believe I 'm the only man living ever does these things," said Simmy, ruefully. "I lost the two or three people that used to say they were my friends by some such blundering folly as this. I only hope it won't do _you_ any mischief. I trust he 'll see that you are not responsible for my delinquencies!"

There was a hearty sincerity in poor Simmy's sorrow that at once conciliated Nelligan, and he did his best to obliterate every trace of the unhappy incident.

"I scarcely supposed my father would have forgiven Ma.s.singbred so easily," said Joe, in his desire to change the topic.

"Blarney,--all blarney!" muttered Crow, with an expressive movement of his eyebrows.

"Father Neal himself is rather a difficult subject to treat with," added Joe.

"Blarney again!"

"Nor do I think," continued Nelligan, "that the const.i.tuency of the borough, as a body, are remarkable for any special liability to be imposed on!"

"Nor would they, had it been an Irishman was trying to humbug them,"

said Crow, emphatically. "Take my word for it,--and I 've seen a great deal of the world, and perhaps not the best of it either,--but take _my_ word for it, English blarney goes further with us here than all else.

It 's not that it's clever or insinuating or delicate,--far from it; but you see that n.o.body suspects it. The very blunders and mistakes of it have an air of sincerity, and we are, besides, so accustomed always to be humbugged with a brogue, that we fancy ourselves safe when we hear an English accent."

"There's some ingenuity in your theory," said Joe, smiling.

"There's fact in it; that's what there is," said Crow, rising from his seat. "I 'll be going now, for I 'm to dine with Tom Magennis at six."

"Is he here, too?"

"Yes; and was n't it a piece of good luck that I did n't say anything about him before Colonel Ma.s.singbred?"

"Why so?"

"Just for this, then,--that it was young Ma.s.singbred gave him a letter to his father, recommending him for some place or other. Half of the borough expects to be in the Treasury, or the Post-Office, or the Board of Trade; and I was just on the tip of saying what a set of rapscallions they were. I 'm sure I don't know what saved me from it."

"Your natural discretion, doubtless," said Joe, smiling.

"Just so; it must have been that!" replied he, with a sigh.

"You'll breakfast with me to-morrow, Crow, at eight," said Nelligan, as he parted with him at the door. And Simmy, having pledged himself to be punctual, hurried off to keep his dinner appointment.

CHAPTER XXII. A DAY "AFTER"

The reaction that succeeds to a period of festivity has always an air of peculiar sadness and gloom about it. The day after a ball, the withered flowers, the faded decorations, the disordered furniture,--all tell the tale of departed pleasure and past enjoyment. The afternoon of that morning which has witnessed a wedding-breakfast,--the April landscape of joy and grief, the bridal beauty, and the high-beating hope of the happy lover, have all fled; and in the still and silent chambers there seems to brood a sense of sorrow and mourning. Still with these thoughts happier memories are mingled. The bright pageant of the past rises again before the mind; and smiles and music and laughter and graceful forms come back, and people s.p.a.ce with their images. But how different from all this was the day after the election at Cro' Martin!

For a week had the Martins condescended to derogate from their proud station and "play popular" to the electors of Oughterard. They had opened their most sumptuous apartments to vulgar company, and made guests of those they deemed inferior to their own domestics. They had given dinners and suppers and b.a.l.l.s and picnics. They had lavished all the flatteries of attentions on their rude neighbors. They had admitted them to all the privileges of a mock equality, "so like the real article as not to be detected." They had stored their minds with all the lives and adventures of these ign.o.ble intimates, so as to impart a false color of friendship to their conversation with them; in a word, and to use one by which her Ladyship summed up all the miseries of the occasion, they had "demoralized" more in a week than she believed it possible could have been effected in ten years. Let us be just, and add that my Lady had taken the phrase bodily out of her French vocabulary, and in her ardor applied it with its native signification,--that is, she alluded to the sad consequences of a.s.sociation with underbred company, and not by any means to any inroads made upon her sense of honor and high principle.

Still, whatever pangs the sacrifice was costing within, it must be owned that no signs of them displayed themselves on the outside. Even Repton, stern critic as he was, said that "they did the thing well." And now it was all over, the guests gone, the festivities ended, the election lost, and nothing in prospect save to settle the heavy outlay of the contest, and pay the high price for that excessively dear article which combines contamination with disappointment.

In her capacity of head of the administration, Lady Dorothea had a.s.sumed the whole guidance of this contest. With Miss Henderson as her private secretary, she had corresponded and plotted and bribed and intrigued to any extent; and although Repton was frequently summoned to a council, his advice was very rarely, if ever, adopted. Her Ladyship's happy phrase--"one ought to know their own borough people better than a stranger"--usually decided every vexed question in favor of her judgment.

It is a strange characteristic of human nature that at no time do people inveigh so loudly against bad faith, treachery, and so on, as when themselves deeply engaged in some very questionable enterprise. Now her Ladyship had so fully made up her mind to win in this contest that she had silenced all scruples as to the means. She had set out with some comfortable self-a.s.surance that she knew what was good for those "poor creatures" infinitely better than they did. That it was her duty--a very onerous and disagreeable one, too--to rescue them from the evil influence of demagogues and such like; and that when represented by a member of _her_ family, they would be invested with a pledge that everything which proper legislation could do for them would be theirs.

So far she had the approval of her own conscience; and for all that was to follow after, she never consulted that tribunal. It is not at all improbable that there was little opportunity of doing so in a week of such bustle and excitement. Every day brought with it fresh cares and troubles; and although Kate Henderson proved herself invaluable in her various functions, her Ladyship's fatigues and exertions were of the greatest.

The day after the election Lady Dorothea kept her bed. The second day, too, she never made her appearance; and it was late in the afternoon of the third that she stole languidly into her library, and ordered her maid to send Miss Henderson to her.

As Kate entered the room, she could not help feeling struck by the alteration that had taken place in her Ladyship's appearance, who, as she lay back in a deep chair, with closed eyes and folded hands, looked like one risen from a long sick-bed.

As she started and opened her eyes, however, at Kate's approach, the features a.s.sumed much of their wonted expression, and their haughty character was only tinged, but not subdued, by the look of sorrow they wore. With the low and pleasant voice which Kate possessed in perfection, she had begun to utter some words of pleasure at seeing her Ladyship again, when the other interrupted her hastily, saying,--

"I want you to read to me, child. There, take that volume of Madame de Sevigne, and begin where you see the mark. You appear weak to-day,--tired, perhaps?"

"Oh, a mere pa.s.sing sense of fatigue, my Lady," said Kate, a.s.suming her place, and preparing her book.

"Chagrin, annoyance--disgust I would call it--are far more wearing than mere labor. For my own part, I think nothing of exertion. But let us not speak of it. Begin."

And Kate now commenced one of those charming letters, wherein the thought is so embellished by the grace of expression that there is a perpetual semblance of originality, without that strain upon the comprehension that real novelty exacts. She read, too, with consummate skill. To all the natural gifts of voice and utterance she added a most perfect taste, and that nicely subdued dramatic feeling which lends to reading its great fascination. Nearly an hour had thus pa.s.sed, and not a word nor a gesture from Lady Dorothea interrupted the reader. With slightly drooped eyelids, she sat calm and tranquil; and as Kate, at moments, stole a pa.s.sing glance towards her, she could not guess whether she was listening to her or not.

"You'd have succeeded on the stage, Miss Henderson," said she at length, raising her eyes slowly. "Did it never occur to you to think of that career?"

"Once I had some notion of it, my Lady," said Kate quietly. "I played in a little private theatre of the d.u.c.h.ess's, and they thought that I had some dramatic ability."

"People of condition have turned actors, latterly,--men, of course, I mean; for women, the ordeal is too severe,--the coa.r.s.e familiarity of a very coa.r.s.e cla.s.s, the close a.s.sociation with most inferior natures--By the way, what a week of it we have had! I 'd not have believed any one who told me that the whole globe contained as much unredeemed vulgarity as this little neighborhood. What was the name of the odious little woman that always lifted the skirt of her dress before sitting down?"

"Mrs. Creevy, my Lady."