The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. II (of II)

“Make your report, sir, and I’ll make the tea,” said Repton, as he proceeded to that office.

“The fellow was in bed, – he refused to see me, and it was only by some insistence that I succeeded in gaining admittance. He has had leeches to his temples. He was bruised, it seems, when he fell, but far more frightened than hurt. He looks the very picture of terror, and lies with a perfect armory of pistols beside his bed. Scanlan was there, and thought to remain during our interview; but I insisted on his withdrawing, and he went. The amiable attorney, somehow, has a kind of respect for me that is rather amusing. As for Merl, he broke out into a vulgar tirade of passion, abused the country and the people, cursed the hour he came amongst them, and said, if he only knew the nature of the property before he made his investment, he ‘d rather have purchased Guatemala bonds, or Santa Fé securities.

“‘Then I have come fortunately,’ said I, ‘for I bring you an offer to reimburse all your outlay, and to rid you of a charge so little to your inclination.’

“‘Oh! you do, do you?’ said he, with one of his cunningest leers. ‘You may not be able, perhaps, to effect that bargain, though. It’s one thing to pay down a smart sum of money and wait your time for recovering it, and it’s another to surrender your compact when the hour of acquisition has arrived. I bought this reversion – at least, I paid the first instalment of the price – four years ago, when the late man’s life was worth twenty years’ purchase. Well, he ‘s gone now, and do you think that I ‘m going to give up my claim for what it cost me?’

“I gently insinuated that the investigation of the claim might lead to unpleasant revelations. There were various incidents of the play-table, feasible and successful enough after a supper with champagne, and in the short hours before day, which came off with an ill-grace on the table of a court of justice, with three barons of the exchequer to witness them. That I myself might prove an awkward evidence, if unhappily cited to appear; that of my own knowledge I could mention three young fellows of good fortune who had been drained to their last shilling in his company. In fact, we were both remarkably candid with each other, and while I reminded him of some dark passages at écarté, he brought to my memory certain protested bills and dishonored notes that ‘non jucundum esset meminisse.’ I must say, for both of us, we did the thing well, and in good breeding; we told and listened to our several shortcomings with a temper that might have graced a better cause, and I defy the world to produce two men who could have exchanged the epithets of swindler and scamp with more thorough calm and good manners. Unhappily, however, high as one rises in his own esteem by such contests, he scarcely makes the same ascent in that of his neighbor, and so we came, in our overflowing frankness, to admit to each other more of our respective opinions than amounts to flattery. I believe, and, indeed, I hope, I should have maintained my temper to the end, had not the fellow pretty broadly insinuated that some motive of personal advantage had prompted my interference, and actually pushed his insolence so far as to insinuate that ‘I should make a better thing’ by adhering to his fortunes.”

Repton started at these words, and Massingbred resumed: “True, upon my honor; I exaggerate nothing. It was a gross outrage, and very difficult to put up with; so I just expressed my sincere regret that instead of being in bed he was not up and stirring, inasmuch as I should have tried what change of air might have done for him, by pitching him out of the window. He tugged violently at the bell-rope, as though I were about to execute my menace, and so I left him. My diplomacy has, therefore, been a sad failure. I only hope that I may not have increased the difficulty of the case by my treatment of it.”

“You never thought of me at all, then?” asked Repton.

“Never, till I was once more in the street; then I remembered something of what you said about coercive means, but of what avail a mere menace? This fellow is not new to such transactions, – he has gone through all the phases of ‘bulleydom.’ Besides, there is a dash of Shylock in every Jew that ever breathed. They will ‘have their bond,’ unless it can be distinctly proved to them that the thing is impossible.”

“Now then for our breaching battery,” said Repton, rising and pacing the room. “This attempt at a compromise never had any favor in my eyes; Barry wished it, and I yielded. Now for a very different course. Can you find a saddle-horse here? Well, then, be ready to set out in half an hour, and search out Barry for me. He’ll be found at Kilkieran, or the neighborhood; say we must meet at once; arrange time and place for the conference, and come back to me.”

Repton issued his directions with an air of command, and Massingbred prepared as implicitly to obey them.

“Mr. Nelligan has lent me his own pad,” said Massingbred, entering soon after, “and his son will accompany me, so that I am at your orders at once.”

“There are your despatches,” said Repton, giving him a sealed packet. “Let me see you here as soon as may be.”

CHAPTER XXXVI. A GREAT DISCOVERY

About an hour after Massingbred’s departure for Kilkieran, Mr. Repton set out for Cro’ Martin Castle. The inn had furnished him its best chaise and four of its primest horses; and had the old lawyer been disposed to enjoy the pleasure which a great moralist has rated so highly, of rapid motion through the air, he might have been gratified on that occasion. Unhappily, however, he was not so minded. Many and very serious cares pressed upon him. He was travelling a road, too, which he had so often journeyed in high spirits, fancying to himself the pleasant welcome before him, and even rehearsing to his own mind the stores of agreeability he was to display, – and now it was to a deserted mansion, lonely and desolate, he was turning! Death and ruin both had done their work on that ancient family, whose very name in the land seemed already hastening to oblivion!

Few men could resist the influence of depression better than Repton. It was not alone that his temperament was still buoyant and energetic, but the habits of his profession had taught him the necessity of being prepared for emergencies, and he would have felt it a dereliction of duty were his sentiments to overmaster his power of action.

Still, as he went along, the well-known features of the spot would recall memories of the past. There lay a dense wood, of which he remembered the very day, the very hour, poor Martin had commenced the planting. There was the little trout-stream, where, under pretence of fishing, he had lounged along the summer day, with Horace for his companion; that, the school-house Mary had sketched, and built out of her own pocket-money. And now the great massive gates slowly opened, and they were within the demesne, – all silent and noiseless. As they came in sight of the castle, Repton covered his face with his hands, and sat for some minutes thus. Then, as if mastering his emotion, he raised his head and folded his arms on his chest.

“You are true to time, I perceive, Dr. Leslie,” said he, as the chaise stopped at the door and the venerable clergyman came forward to greet him.

“I got your note last night, sir, but I determined not to keep you waiting, for I perceive you say that time is precious now.”

“I thank you heartily,” said Repton, as he shook the other’s hand. “I am grateful to you also for being here to meet me, for I begin to feel my courage fail me as to crossing that threshold again!”

“Age has its penalties as well as its blessings, sir,” said Leslie, “and amongst these is to outlive those dear to us!” There was a painful significance to his own desolate condition that made these words doubly impressive.

Repton made no reply, but pulled the bell strongly; and the loud, deep sounds rung out clearly through the silent house. After a brief interval a small window above the door was opened, and a man with a blunderbuss in his hand sternly demanded their business.

“Oh, I ax pardon, sir,” said he, as suddenly correcting himself. “I thought it was that man that ‘s come to take the place, – ‘the Jew,’ they call him, – and Mr. Magennis said I was n’t to let him in, or one belonging to him.”

“No, Barney, we are not his friends,” said Dr. Leslie; “this is Mr. Repton.”

“Sure I know the Counsellor well, sir,” said Barney. “I ‘ll be down in a minute and open the door.”

“I must go to work at once,” said Repton, in a low and somewhat broken voice, “or this place will be too much for me. Every step I go is calling up old times and old scenes. I had thought my heart was of sterner stuff. Isn’t this the way to the library? No, not that way, – that was poor Martin’s own breakfast-room!” He spoke hurriedly, like one who wished to suppress emotion by very activity of thought.

While the man who conducted them opened the window-shutters and the windows, Repton and his companion sat down without speaking. At last he withdrew, and Repton, rising, said, – “Some of the happiest hours of my life were passed in this same room. I used to come up here after the fatigues of circuit, and, throwing myself into one of those easy-chairs, dream away for a day or two, gazing out on that bold mountain yonder, above the trees, and wondering how those fellows who never relaxed, in this wise, could sustain the wear and tear of life; for that junketing to Harrow-gate, that rattling, noisy steamboating up the Rhine, that Cockney heroism of Swiss travel, is my aversion. The calm forenoon for thought, the pleasant dinner-table for genial enjoyment afterwards, – these are true recreations. And what evenings we have had here! But I must not dwell on these.” And now he threw upon the table a mass of papers and letters, amongst which he sought out one, from which he took a small key. “Dr. Leslie,” said he, “you might have been assured that I have not called upon you to meet me to-day without a sufficient reason. I know that, from certain causes, of which I am not well informed, you were not on terms of much intimacy with my poor friend here. This is not a time to think of these things; you, I am well assured, will never remember them.”

Leslie made a motion of assent; and the other went on, his voice gradually gaining in strength and fulness, and his whole manner by degrees assuming the characteristic of the lawyer.

“To the few questions to which I will ask your answers, now, I have to request all your attention. They are of great importance; they may, very probably, be re-asked of you under more solemn circumstances; and I have to bespeak, not alone all your accuracy for the replies, but that you may be able, if asked, to state the manner and even the words in which I now address you. – You have been the incumbent of this parish for a length of time, – what number of years?”

“Sixty-three. I was appointed to the vicarage on my ordination, and never held any other charge.”

“You knew the late Darcy Martin, father of the last proprietor of this estate?”

“Intimately.”

“You baptized his two children, born at the same birth. State what you remember of the circumstance.”

“I was sent for to the castle to give a private baptism to the two infants, and requested that I would bring the vestry-book along with me for the registration. I did so. The children were accordingly christened, and their births duly registered and witnessed.”

“Can you remember the names by which they were called?”

“Not from the incident in question, though I know the names from subsequent knowledge of them, as they grew up to manhood.”

“What means, if any, were adopted at the time to distinguish the priority of birth?”

“The eldest was first baptized, and his birth specially entered in the vestry-book as such; all the witnesses who signed the entry corroborating the fact by special mention of it under their signature. We also heard that the child wore a gold bracelet on one arm; but I did not remark it.”

“You have this vestry-book in your keeping?”

“No; Mr. Martin retained it, with some object of more formal registration. I repeatedly asked for it, but never could obtain it. At length some coolness grew up between us, and I could not, or did not wish to press my demand; and at last it lapsed entirely from my memory, so that from that day I never saw it.”

“You could, however, recognize it, and be able to verify your signature?”

“Certainly.”

“Was there, so far as you could see, any marked distinction made between the children while yet young?”

“I can remember that at the age of three or four the eldest boy wore a piece of red or blue ribbon on his sleeve; but any other mark I never observed. They were treated, so far as I could perceive, precisely alike; and their resemblance to each other was then so striking, it would have been a matter of great nicety to distinguish them. Even at school, I am told, mistakes constantly occurred, and one boy once received the punishment incurred by the other.”

“As they grew up, you came to recognize the eldest by his name?”

“Yes. Old Mr. Darcy Martin used to take the elder boy more about with him. He was then a child of ten or eleven years old. He was particular in calling attention to him, saying, ‘This fellow is to be my heir; he ‘ll be the Martin of Cro’ Martin yet’”

“And what name did the boy bear?”

“Godfrey, – Godfrey Martin. The second boy’s name was Barry.”

“You are sure of this?”

“Quite sure. I have dined a number of times at the castle, when Godfrey was called in after dinner, and the other boy was generally in disgrace; and I could remark that his father spoke of him in a tone of irritation and bitterness, which he did not employ towards the other.”

“Mr. Martin died before his sons came of age?”