Roland Cashel, Volume I (of II)

“Chance,” said the man, shrugging his shoulders. “I could have no preferences for one road over another – all were strange – all unknown to me. I hoped with the aid of my guitar, to get some clothes once more together, and then to find some vessel bound for the Adriatic.”

“What can you do besides that?” said Linton, “for it strikes me a fellow with thews and sinews like yours was scarcely intended to thrum catgut.”

“I can do most things where a steady eye, and a strong; hand, and a quick foot are needed. I ‘ve been a hunter in the forests of Dalmatia – herded the half-wild cattle on the Campagna at Rome – sailed a felucca in the worst Levanters of the gulf – and to swim in a high sea, or to ride an unbroken horse, I’ll yield to but one man living.”

“And who may he be?” said Linton, aroused at the southern enthusiasm so suddenly excited.

“A countryman of mine,” said the sailor, sententiously; “his name is not known to you.”

“How sad such gifts as these should have so little recompense in our days,” said Linton, with an affected sincerity. “There was a time, in your own country, too, when a fellow like yourself would not have had long to seek for a patron.”

The Italian’s cheek grew deeper in its flush, and his dark eyes seemed almost to kindle beneath the shaggy brows; then correcting, as it seemed, the passionate impulse, he said: “Ay, true enough, sir; there were many who had the gold to squander, who had not the hand to strike, and, as you say, fellows like me were high in the market.”

“And no great hardship in it, either,” said Linton. “There is a justice surer and quicker than the law, which I, for one, think right well of.”

Either not following the import of the speech, or not caring to concur in it, the Italian did not reply.

“I have a notion that we may find out some employment for you here,” said Linton. “What name are we to call you?”

“Giovanni,” said the sailor, after a moment’s hesitation, which did not escape the shrewdness of his questioner.

“Giovanni be it,” said Linton, easily; “as good as another.”

“Just so,” rejoined the Italian, with a hardihood that seemed to sit easily upon him.

“I think, friend,” said Linton, drawing nearer to him – and, although the foreign language in which he spoke effectually prevented the others from understanding what passed, instantly his voice dropped into a lower and more confidential tone – “I think, friend, we shall soon understand each other well. You are in want of a protector; I may yet stand in need of an attached and zealous fellow. I read people quickly, and it seems to me that we are well met. Stay here, then; we shall soon have a large company arriving, and I ‘ll try and find out some exercise for your abilities.”

The Italian’s dark eyes flashed and twinkled as though his subtle nature had already enlarged upon the shadowy suggestions of the other, and he made a significant gesture of assent.

“Remember, now, in whose service you are,” said Linton, taking out his purse, and seeking among its contents for the precise piece of coin he wanted – “remember, that I am not the master here, but one who has to the full as much power, and that I can prove a strong friend, and, some say, a very dangerous enemy. Here is the earnest of our bargain,” said he, handing him a guinea in gold; “from this hour I count upon you.”

The Italian nodded twice, and pocketing the money with a cool audacity that told that such contracts were easily comprehended by him, touched his cap, and sauntered away, as though to follow out some path of his own choosing. Linton looked after him for a moment, but the next his attention was taken off by seeing that Mr. Corrigan and his granddaughter were advancing hastily towards him.

“So you have really accepted my suggestion,” said Mary, with a flush of pleasure on her cheek; “the door has been opened, and the vista is exactly as my dream revealed it.”

“In all save the chief ingredient,” replied Linton, laugh-. ing; “we want the monk and the casket.”

“Hush!” said she, cautiously; “grandpapa is a firm believer in all dreams and visions, and would not hear them spoken of irreverently.”

“Assuredly, I never was less in the mind to do so,” replied Linton, with a degree of earnestness that made Mary smile, little suspecting at the time to what his speech owed its fervor.

“We’ve come to take a last look at the ‘Hall,’ Mr. Linton,” said the old man. “Tom Keane tells me that your gay company will soon arrive; indeed, rumor says that some have already reached Limerick, and will be here to-morrow.”

“This is more than I knew of,” said Linton; “but here comes the redoubted Tom himself, and with a full letter-bag, too.” Hastily unlocking the leather sack, Tom Linton emptied its contents upon a grassy bench, where the party seated themselves to learn the news. “There are no secrets here,” said Linton, tossing over the letters, with nearly all of whose handwriting he was familiar; “help me, Miss Leicester, I beg, to get through my task. Pray break some of the seals, and tell us who our dear friends are whose presence is so soon to charm and enliven us. And will you, too, sir, bear your part?” Thus invited, old Mr. Corrjgan put on his spectacles, and slowly prepared to assist in the labor.

“That’s the Dean’s hand, Miss Leicester – the Dean of Drumcondera. I hope he ‘s not coming; I ‘m sure he was never invited.”

“He regrets he cannot be with you this week, but will certainly come next, and take the liberty of presenting his distinguished friend, the Hofrath von Dunnersleben, professor of Oriental Literature at Hochenkanperhausen.”

“This is painting the lily with a vengeance; ‘color on color’ is bad heraldry, but what shall we say of the taste that brings ‘bore upon bore’?”

“‘Mrs. Leicester White has prevailed upon Mr. Howie to defer his departure from Ireland – ‘”

“This is too bad,” interrupted Linton. “What fortune have you, sir? I hope better tidings than Miss Leicester.”

“This is a strange kind of scrawl enough,” said the old man; “it runs thus: – ‘Dear Tom, we are starting for your wild regions this evening – two drags and a mail phaeton. I have sent Gipsy and the white fetlocked colt by Hericks, and will bring Tom Edwards with me. The mare looks well, but fleshy; you must look to it that we haven’t heavy ground – ‘”

“Oh, I know who that’s from,” said Linton, hastily taking the letter from Corrigan’s hand; “it’s Lord Charles Frobisher, – a silly fellow, that never thinks of anything but horse-racing and training.”

“He would seem to speculate on something of the kind here,” said Corrigan; “at least, it looks very like premeditation, this sending off grooms and racers.”

“He does so everywhere he goes,” said Linton, affecting to laugh; “a surgeon would no more travel without his lancets, than Charley without some chance of a ‘match;’ but what’s this?

“Dear Mr. Cashel, – I and my little girl are already en route for your hospitable castle, too happy to assist in the celebration of your house-warming – ”

“Oh, that’s Meek,” said Linton. “And now for this rugged little hand here.

“Lady Janet and Sir Andrew MacFarline – ”

“Strange style, – the lady first,” interposed Miss Leicester.

“She is always so,” said Linton, continuing the perusal —

– “will reach Tubbermore by Tuesday, and have only to request that their apartments may not have a north aspect, as Lady J. has still a heavy cold hanging over her. Sir A.‘s man, Flint, will arrange the rooms himself and, with Mr. Cashel’s permission, give directions about double doors – if there be none.

“Sir A. has taken the liberty of mentioning to Gordon that the sherry is far too hot and acrid, and hopes Mr. Cashel will pardon his having ordered some dozens of ‘Amontillado’ for trial. Lady J. asks, as a favor, that plants and flowers may be banished from the house during her brief stay, Dr. Grimes positively forbidding all herbaceous odors; and if the cook could make the ‘cuisine’ particularly simple, it would also oblige her, as Dr. G. says she ought not to be exposed to the irritation of tempting viands, even to see them at table.

“Lady J. hopes that the society will be cheerful without dissipation, and gay without debauch; above all, she stipulates for early hours, and trusts that by eleven, at latest, the house will have retired to rest. Lady Janet has no objection to meeting any one Mr. Cashel may honor with his invitation, but leaves it to Mr. C.‘s discretion not to abuse this liberality. Were she to particularize, she should merely suggest that the Kennyfecks, except perhaps the elder girl, are odious – Mrs. White a perfect horror – the Meeks something too atrocious – and that rather than meet the Kilgoffs and their set, Lady J. would almost prefer to relinquish all her much-anticipated pleasure. Mr. Linton can be, and very often is, gentlemanlike and amusing, but ‘Lintonism,’ as occasionally practised, is intolerable.

“Lady Janet has ventured on these remarks, far less for her own convenience than in the discharge of what she feels to be a duty to a very young and inexperienced man, whose unsuspecting nature will inevitably expose him to the very insidious attacks of selfishness, cunning, and to that species of dictation that sooner or later ends in debasing and degrading him who permits himself to be its subject.

“Janet MacFarline.”

“What a chaste specimen of disinterestedness her Ladyship’s own letter,” said Mary. “Is she a near relative, or a very old friend of Mr. Cashel’s family?”

“Neither; a mere acquaintance, undistinguished by anything like even a passing preference.”

“She is a Lady Janet,” interposed old Corrigan, “and it is surprising what charms of influence pertain to those segments of great families, as they descend a scale in society, and live among the untitled of the world; besides that, whatever they want in power, they ‘take out’ in pretension, and it does quite as well.”

“She is ‘mauvaise langue,’” said Linton; “and there are few qualities obtain such sway in society. But who comes here in such haste? It is Tom Keane. Well, Tom, what has happened – is the Hall on fire?”

“No, sir; but the company ‘s comin’ rowlin’ in as fast as ‘pays’ down the big avenue, and into the coort; there was three coaches all together, and I see two more near the gate.”

“Then we shall leave you to your cares of host,” said Corrigan, rising; “but don’t forget that when affairs of state permit, we shall be delighted to see you at the cottage.”

“Oh, by all means, Mr. Linton. I have acquired the most intense curiosity to hear about your fine company and their doings – pray compassionate my inquisitiveness.”

“But will you not join us sometimes?” said Linton; “can I not persuade you to make part of our little company? for I trust we shall be able to have some society worth showing you.”