The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 2

“You may depend upon that, sir,” said the Counsellor, sternly. “Now I ‘ll go back with you, Mr. Beecham O’Reilly.” So saying, he moved towards a private door of the building, where the phaeton was in waiting, and, before any attention was drawn to the spot, he was seated in the carriage, and the horses stepping out at a fast pace towards home.

“It’s not Bagenal Daly?” said O’Reilly, the very moment he saw the carriage drive off.

“No, no!” said Heffernan, smiling.

“Nor the young Darcy, – the captain?”

“Nor him either. It’s a young fellow we have been seeking for in vain the last month. His name is Forester.”

“Not Lord Castlereagh’s Forester?”

“The very man. You may have met him here as Darcy’s guest?”

O’Reilly nodded.

“What makes the affair worse is that the relationship with Castlereagh will be taken up as a party matter by O’Halloran’s friends in the press; they will see a Castle plot, where, in reality, there is nothing to blame save the rash folly of a hot-headed boy.”

“What is to be done?” said O’Reilly, putting his hand to his forehead, in his embarrassment to think of some escape from the difficulty.

“I see but one safe issue, – always enough to any question, if men have resolution to adopt it.”

“Let me hear what you counsel,” said O’Reilly, as he cast a searching glance at his astute companion.

“Get him off as fast as you can.”

“O’Halloran! You mistake him, Mr. Heffernan; he’ll prosecute the business to the end.”

“I’m speaking of Forester,” said Heffernan, dryly; “it is his absence is the important matter at this moment.”

“I confess I am myself unable to appreciate your view of the case,” said O’Reilly, with a cunning smile; “the policy is a new one to me which teaches that a magistrate should favor the escape of a prisoner who has just insulted one of his own friends.”

“I may be able to explain my meaning to your satisfaction,” said Heffernan, as, taking O’Reilly’s arm, he spoke for some time in a low but earnest manner. “Yes,” said he, aloud, “your son Beecham was the object of this young man’s vengeance; chance alone turned his anger on the Counsellor. His sole purpose in ‘the West’ was to provoke your son to a duel, and I know well what the result of your proceedings to-morrow would effect. Forester would not accept of his liberty on bail, nor would he enter into a security on his part to keep the peace. You will be forced, actually forced, to commit a young man of family and high position to a gaol; and what will the world say? That in seeking satisfaction for a very gross outrage on the character of his friend, a young Englishman of high family was sent to prison! In Ireland, the tale will tell badly; we always have more sympathy than censure for such offenders. In England, how many will know of his friends and connections, who never heard of your respectable bench of magistrates, – will it be very wonderful if they side with their countryman against the stranger?”

“How am I to face O’Halloran if I follow this counsel?” said O’Reilly, with a thoughtful but embarrassed air. “Then, as to Lord Castlereagh,” continued Heffernan, not heeding the question, “he will take your interference as a personal and particular favor. There never was a more favorable opportunity for you to disconnect yourself with the whole affair. The hired advocate may calumniate as he will, but he can show no collusion or connivance on your part. I may tell you, in confidence, that a more indecent and gross attack was never uttered than this same speech. I heard it, and from the beginning to the end it was a tissue of vulgarity and falsehood. Oh! I know what you would say: I complimented the speaker on his success, and all that; so I did, perfectly true, and he understood me, too, – there is no greater impertinence, perhaps, than in telling a man that you mistook his bad cider for champagne! But enough of him. You may have all the benefit, if there be such, of the treason, and yet never rub shoulders with the traitor. You see I am eager on this point, and I confess I am very much so. Your son Beecham could not have a worse enemy in the world of Club and Fashion than this same Forester; he knows and is known to everybody.”

“But I cannot perceive how the thing is to be done,” broke in O’Reilly, pettishly; “you seem to forget that O’Halloran is not the man to be put off with any lame, disjointed story.”

“Easily enough,” said Heffernan, coolly; “there is no difficulty whatever. You can blunder in the warrant of his committal; you can designate him by a wrong Christian name; call him Robert, not Richard; he may be admitted to bail, and the sum a low one. The rest follows naturally; or, better than all, let some other magistrate-you surely know more than one to aid in such a pinch – take the case upon himself, and make all the necessary errors; that’s the best plan.”

“Conolly, perhaps,” said O’Reilly, musingly; “he is a great friend of Darcy’s, and would risk something to assist this young fellow.”

“Well thought of,” cried Heffernan, slapping him on the shoulder; “just give me a line of introduction to Mr. Conolly on one of your visiting-cards, and leave the rest to me.”

“If I yield to you in this business, Mr. Heffernan,” said O’Reilly, as he sat down to write, “I assure you it is far more from my implicit confidence in your skill to conduct it safely to the end, than from any power of persuasion in your arguments. O’Halloran is a formidable enemy.”

“You never were more mistaken in your life,” said Heffernan, laughing, “such men are only noxious by the terror they inspire; they are the rattlesnakes of the world of mankind, always giving notice of their approach, and never dangerous to the prudent. He alone is to be dreaded who, tiger-like, utters no cry till his victim is in his fangs.”

There was a savage malignity in the way these words were uttered that made O’Reilly almost shudder. Heffernan saw the emotion he had unguardedly evoked, and, laughing, said, —

“Well, am I to hold over the remainder of my visit to the abbey as a debt unpaid? for I really have no fancy to let you off so cheaply.”

“But you are coming back with me, are you not?”

“Impossible! I must take charge of this foolish boy, and bring him up to Dublin; I only trust I have a vested right to come back and see you at a future day.”

O’Reilly responded to the proposition with courteous warmth; and with mutual pledges, perhaps of not dissimilar sincerity, they parted, – the one to his own home, the other to negotiate in a different quarter and in a very different spirit of diplomacy.

CHAPTER V. MR. HEFFERNAN’S COUNSELS

Mr. Heffernan possessed many worldly gifts and excellences, but upon none did he so much pride himself, in the secret recesses of his heart, – he was too cunning to indulge in more public vauntings, – as in the power he wielded over the passions of men much younger than himself. Thoroughly versed in their habits of life, tastes, and predilections, he knew how much always to concede to the warm and generous temperament of their age, and to maintain his influence over them less by the ascendancy of ability than by a more intimate acquaintance with all the follies and extravagances of fashionable existence.

Whether he had or had not been a principal actor in the scenes he related with so much humor, it was difficult to say; for he would gloss over his own personal adventures so artfully that it was not easy to discover whether the motive were cunning or delicacy. He seemed, at least, to have done everything that wildness and eccentricity had ever devised, to have known intimately every man renowned for such exploits, and to have gone through a career of extravagance and dissipation quite sufficient to make him an unimpeachable authority in every similar case. The reserve which young men feel with regard to those older than themselves was never experienced in Con Heffernan’s company; they would venture to tell him anything, well aware that, however absurd the story or embarrassing the scrape, Hefferuan was certain to cap it by another twice as extravagant in every respect.

Although Forester was by no means free from the faults of his age and class, the better principles of his nature had received no severe or lasting injury, and his estimation for Heffernan proceeded from a very different view of his character from that which we have just alluded to. He knew him to be the tried and trusted agent of his cousin, Lord Castlereagh, one for whose abilities he entertained the greatest respect; he saw him consulted and advised with on every question of difficulty, his opinions asked, his suggestions followed; and if, occasionally, the policy was somewhat tortuous, he was taught to believe that the course of politics, like that “of true love, never did run smooth.” In this way, then, did he learn to look up to Heffernan, who was too shrewd a judge of motives to risk a greater ascendancy by any hazardous appeal to the weaker points of his character.

Fortune could not have presented a more welcome visitor to Forester’s eyes than Heffernau, as he entered the room of the inn where the youth had been conducted by the sergeant of police, and where he sat bewildered by the difficulties in which his own rashness had involved him. The first moments of meeting were occupied by a perfect shower of questions, as to how Heffernan came to be in that quarter of the world, when he had arrived, and with whom he was staying. All questions which Heffernan answered by the laughing subterfuge of saying, “Your good genius, I suppose, sent me to get you out of your scrape; and fortunately I am able to do so. But what in the name of everything ridiculous could have induced you to insult this man, O’Halloran? You ought to have known that men like him cannot fight; they would be made riddles of if they once consented to back by personal daring the insolence of their tongues. They set out by establishing for themselves a kind of outlawry from honor, they acknowledge no debts within the jurisdiction of that court, otherwise they would soon be bankrupt.”

“They should be treated like all others without the pale of law, then,” said Forester, indignantly.

“Or, like Sackville,” added Heffernan, laughing, “when they put their swords ‘on the peace establishment,’ they should put their tongues on the ‘civil list.’ Well, well, there are new discoveries made every day; some men succeed better in life by the practice of cowardice than others ever did, or ever will do, by the exercise of valor.”

“What can I do here? Is there anything serious in the difficulty?” said Forester, hurriedly; for he was in no humor to enjoy the abstract speculations in which Heffernan indulged.

“It might have been a very troublesome business,” replied Heffernan, quietly: “the judge might have issued a bench warrant against you, if he did not want your cousin to make him chief baron; and Justice Conolly might have been much more technically accurate, if he was not desirous of seeing his son in an infantry regiment. It’s all arranged now, however; there is only one point for your compliance, – you must get out of Ireland as fast as may be. O’Halloran will apply for a rule in the King’s Bench, but the proceedings will not extend to England.”

“I am indifferent where I go to,” said Forester, turning away; “and provided this foolish affair does not get abroad, I am well content.”

“Oh! as to that, you must expect your share of notoriety. O’Halloran will take care to display his martyrdom for the people! It will bring him briefs now; Heaven knows what greater rewards the future may have in store from it!”

“You heard the provocation,” said Forester, with an unsuccessful attempt to speak calmly, – “the gross and most unpardonable provocation?”

“I was present,” replied Heffernan, quietly.

“Well, what say you? Was there ever uttered an attack more false and foul? Was there ever conceived a more fiendish and malignant slander?”

“I never heard anything worse.”

“Not anything worse! No, nor ever one half so bad.”

“Well, if you like it, I will agree with you; not one half so bad. It was untrue in all its details, unmanly in spirit. But, let me add, that such philippics have no lasting effect, – they are like unskilful mines, that in their explosion only damage the contrivers. O’Reilly, who was the real deviser of this same attack, whose heart suggested, whose head invented, and whose coffers paid for it, will reap all the obloquy he hoped to heap upon another. Take myself, for instance, an old time-worn man of the world, who has lived long enough never to be sudden in my friendships or my resentments, who thinks that liking and disliking are slow processes, – well, even I was shocked, outraged at this affair; and although having no more intimacy with Darcy than the ordinary intercourse of social life, confess I could not avoid acting promptly and decisively on the subject. It was a question, perhaps, more of feeling than actual judgment, – a case in which the first impulse may generally be deemed the right one.” Here Heffernan paused, and drew himself up with an air that seemed to say, “If I am confessing to a weakness in my character, it is at least one that leans to virtue’s side.”

Forester awaited with impatience for the explanation, and, not perceiving it to come, said, “Well, what did you do in the affair?”

“My part was a very simple one,” said Heffernan; “I was Mr. O’Reilly’s guest, one of a large party, asked to meet the judges and the Attorney-General. I came in, with many others, to hear O’Halloran; but if I did, I took the liberty of not returning again. I told Mr. O’Reilly frankly that, in point of fact, the thing was false, and, as policy, it was a mistake. Party contests are all very well, they are necessary, because without them there is no banner to fight under; and the man of mock liberality to either side would take precedence of those more honest but less cautious than himself; but these things are great evils when they enlist libellous attacks on character in their train. If the courtesies of life are left at the door of our popular assemblies, they ought at least to be resumed when passing out again into the world.”

“And so you actually refused to go back to his house?” said Forester, who felt far more interested in this simple fact than in all the abstract speculation that accompanied it.

“I did so: I even begged of him to send my servant and my carriage after me; and, had it not been for your business, before this time I had been some miles on my way towards Dublin.”