Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 1

“And is there nothing – is there no – ” Bella could utter no more, when a warning of the doctor’s hand showed that her father’s eyes were on her.

“Come here, Bella,” said he, in a low tone, – “come here to me. There’s a pound in my waistcoat-pocket, in my room; put a shilling inside of it, for it’s a guinea he ought to have, and gold, by rights, if we had it. And tell him we ‘ll send for him if we want to see him again. Do it delicately, darling, so as not to let him know. Say I ‘m used to these attacks; say they’re in the family; say – But there, they are driving away, – they’re off! and he never waited for his fee! That’s the strangest thing of all.” And so he fell a-thinking over this curious fact, muttering from time to time to himself, “I never heard of the like before.”

CHAPTER XXIV. THE COTTAGE

Davenport Dunn had but little leisure to think about Conway or poor Kellett. A change of Ministry had just occurred in England, and men’s minds were all eagerly speculating who was “to come in.” Crowds of country gentlemen flocked up to Dublin, and “rising men” of all shades of opinion anxiously paraded their own claims to notice. Dunn’s house was besieged from morning to night by visitors, all firmly persuaded that he must know more of the coming event than any one. Whether such was really the case, or that he deemed it good policy to maintain the delusion, Dunn affected a slight indisposition, and refused to admit any visitor. Mr. Clowes, indeed, informed the inquirers that it was a mere passing ailment, – “a slight derangement in the bronchi,” he said; but be rigidly maintained the blockade, and suffered none to infringe it.

Of course, a hundred rumors gave their own version of this illness. It was spleen; it was indignation; the Government had thrown him over: he had been refused the secretaryship which he had formerly applied for. Others averred that his attack was most serious, – an ossification or a scirrhus of some cartilage, a thing always fatal and dreadfully painful. Some went further. It was his prosperity was in peril. Over-speculation had jeopardized him, and he was deep in the “Crédit Mobilier.” Now, all this while, the disappointed politician, the hopeless invalid, and the ruined speculator ate and drank well, received and wrote replies to innumerable confidential notes from those in power, and carefully drew up a list of such as he desired to recommend to the Government for place and employment.

Every morning Sir Maurice Dashwood’s well-appointed cab drew up at his door, and the lively baronet would dash up the stairs to Dunn’s room with all the elasticity of youth, and more real energy than is the fortune of one young fellow in a thousand. With a consummate knowledge of men and the world, he was second to none in his profession. He felt he could afford to indulge the gay and buoyant spirits with which Nature had blessed him, and even, doctor that he was, take his share in all the sports of the field and all the pleasures of society.

“Well, Dunn,” cried he, gayly, one morning, as he entered the carefully darkened room where the other sat, surrounded with papers and deep in affairs, “I think you may accept your bill of health, and come out of dock tomorrow. They are gazetted now, and the world as wise as yourself.”

“So I mean to do,” said Dunn. “I intend to dine with the Chancellor. What is said about the new Government?”

“Very little. There is really little to say. They are nearly the same pieces, only placed differently on the board. This trumpery cry about ‘right men in right places’ will lead to all kinds of confusion, since it will eternally suggest choice, which, in plain words, means newspaper dictation.”

“As good as any other dictation: better in one respect, for it so often recants its judgments,” said Dunn, sarcastically.

“Well, they are unanimous about you this morning. They are all eagerly inquiring in what way the Government propose to recognize the services of one of the ablest men and most disinterested patriots of our day.”

“I don’t want anything from them,” said Dunn, testily, and walking to the window to avoid the keen, sharp glance the other bent upon him.

“The best way to get it when you do want,” said Dash-wood. “By the way, what’s our new Viceroy like?”

“A very good appointment, indeed,” said Dunn, gravely.

“Oh, I don’t mean that. I want to know what he is personally: is he stiff, haughty, grave, gay, stand-off, or affable?”

“I should say, from what I have seen of Lord Allington, that he is one of those men who are grave without sadness – ”

“Come, come, never mind the antithesis; does he care for society, does he like sport, is he free-handed, or has he only come here with the traditional policy to ‘drain Ireland’?”

“You ‘ll like him much,” said Dunn, in his natural voice, “and he ‘ll like you.”

Sir Maurice smiled, as though to say, “I could answer as much for myself;” and then asked, “Have you known him long?”

“No; that is, not very long,” said Dunn, hesitating, “nor very intimately. Why do you ask?”

“Just because I want to get something, – at once too. There’s a poor fellow, a patient of mine now, – we were brother officers once, – in a very sad way. Your friends of the Encumbered Court have Just been selling him out, and by the shock they have so stunned him that his brain has been attacked; at present it does not seem so formidable, but it will end in softening, and all the rest of it. Now, if they ‘d make him something at once, – quickly it must be, – he could drop out on some small retired allowance, – anything, in short, that would support him.”

“But what is it to be?” asked Dunn.

“Whatever you like to make him. It can scarcely be a bishop, for he’s not in orders; nor a judge, for he was not called to the bar; but why not a commissioner of something? You have them for all purposes and of all degrees.”

“You take a low estimate of commissionerships, I perceive,” said Dunn, smiling.

“They are row-boats, where two or three pull, and the rest only dip their oars. But come, promise me you ‘ll look to this; take a note of the name, – Paul Kellett a man of excellent family, and once with a large landed property.”

“I know him,” said Dunn, with a peculiar significance.

“And know nothing to his disadvantage, I’m certain. He was a good officer and a kind-hearted fellow, whom we all liked. And there he is now,” added he, after a pause, “with a charming girl – his daughter – and I really don’t believe they have a five-pound note in the world. You must do this for me, Dunn. I ‘m bent upon it!”

“I’ll see what can be done about it. Anything like a job is always a difficulty.”

“And everything is a job here, Dunn, and no man knows better how to deal with one.” And so saying, and with a pleasant laugh, the gay-hearted doctor hurried away, to carry hope, and some portion at least of his own cheery nature, into many a darkened sick-room.

Though several names were announced with pressing entreaties for an audience, Dunn would see no one. He continued to walk up and down the room deep in thought, and seemed resolved that none should interrupt him. There were events enough to occupy, cases enough to engage him, – high questions of policy, deep matters of interest, all that can stimulate ambition, all that can awaken energy, – and yet, amidst all, where were his thoughts straying? They were away to the years of his early boyhood, when he had been Paul Kellett’s playfellow, and when he was admitted – a rare honor – to the little dinner of the nursery! What a strange thing it was that it was “there and then” his first studies of life and character should have been made; that it was there and then he first moulded himself to the temper and ways of another, conforming to caprices and tending to inclinations not his own. Stern tyrants were these child masters! How they did presume upon their high station, how severely did they make him feel the distance between them, and what arts did they teach him, – what subtle devices to outwit their own imperiousness and give him the mastery over them! To these memories succeeded others more painful still; and Dunn’s brow contracted and his lips became tight-drawn as he recollected them.

“I suppose even my father would allow that the debt is acquitted now,” muttered he to himself. “I ‘ll go and see them!” said he, after a moment; “such a sight will teach me how far I have travelled in life.”

He gently descended a private stair that led to the garden, and, passing out by the stables, soon gained the street Walking rapidly on to the first stand, he engaged a car, and started for Clontarf.

If Davenport Dunn never gave way to a passion for revenge in life, it was in some sort because he deemed it a luxury above his means. He often fancied to himself that the time might come when he could indulge in this pleasure, just as now he revelled in a thousand others, which once had seemed as remote. His theory was that he had not yet attained that eminence whence he could dispense with all aid, and he knew not what man’s services at any moment might be useful to him. Still, with all this, he never ceased to enjoy whatever of evil fortune befell those who even in times past had injured him. To measure their destiny with his now, was like striking a balance with Fate, – a balance so strong in his favor; and when he had not actually contributed to their downfall, he deemed himself high-minded, generous, and pure-hearted.

It was reflecting in this wise he drove along, and at last drew up at Kellett’s door; his knock was answered by Sybella herself, whose careworn features and jaded look scarcely reminded him of her appearance when first he saw her, flushed and excited by exercise.

“I thought I’d come myself and ask after him,” said Dunn, as he explained the object of his visit.

“He has scarce consciousness enough to thank you,” said she, mournfully, “but I am very grateful to you;” and she preceded him into the room, where her father sat in the selfsame attitude as before.

“He doesn’t know me,” whispered Dunn, as the sick man’s gaze was turned to him without the slightest sign of recognition, – “he does n’t know me!”

“I do. I know you well, Davenport Dunn, and I know why you come here,” said Kellett, with a distinctness that startled them both. “Leave us alone together, Bella darling; we want to talk privately.”

Sybella was so astounded at this sudden show of intelligence that she scarcely knew how to take it, or what to do; but at a gesture from Dunn, she stepped noiselessly from the room, and left them together.

“You must not excite yourself, Kellett, nor prejudice your prospect of recovery by any exertion; there will be time enough for matters of business hereafter – ”

“No, there won’t; that’s the reason I want to talk to you now,” said Kellett, sharply. “I know well enough my life is short here.”

Dunn began some phrase of cheering meaning; but the other stopped him abruptly, and said, —

“There, there, don’t be losing time that way. Is that the touch of a man long for this world?” and he laid on the other’s hand his own hot and burning fingers. “I said I knew why you came here, Dunn,” continued he, more strongly; “it was to look at your work. Ay, just so. It was you brought me to this, and you wanted to see it. Turn your eyes round the room, and you ‘ll see it’s poor enough. Look in at that bedroom there, and you ‘ll say it could n’t be much more humble! I pawned my watch yesterday; there’s all that’s out of it;” and he showed some pieces of silver and copper mixed together in the palm of his hand; “there’s not a silver spoon left, so that you see you ‘ve done it well!”

“My dear Kellett, these words of yours have no meaning in them – ”

“Maybe not; but maybe you understand them, for all that! Look here, now, Dunn,” said he, clutching his hand in his own feverish grasp; “what the Child begins the Man finishes! I know you well, and I ‘ve watched you for many a year. All your plans and schemes never deceived me; but it’s a house of cards you ‘re building, after all! What I knew about you as a boy others may know as a man; and I would n’t believe St. Peter if he told me you only did it once!”

“If this be not raving, it is a deliberate insult!” muttered Dunn, sternly, while he rudely pushed away the other’s hand, and drew back his chair.

“Well, it’s not raving, whatever it is,” said Kellett, calmly. “The cold air of the earth that’s opening for me clears my brain, and I know well the words I ‘m saying, and the warning I ‘m giving you. Tell the people fairly that it’s only scheming you were; that the companies are a bubble and the banks a sham; that you ‘re only juggling this man’s credit against that, making the people think that you have the confidence of the Government, and the Government believe that you can do what you like with the people. Go at once and publish it, that you are only cheating them all, or you ‘ll have a gloomier ending even than this!”

“I came out of compassion for you.”

“No, you did n’t, not a bit of it. You came to tell old Mat Dunn that the score was wiped off; he came to the window here this morning and looked in at me.”

“My father? Impossible! He’s nearly ninety, and barely able to move about a room.”