Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 1

Both Mr. Dunn and his fair companion were destined to be rescued from the impending indiscretion by the arrival of Lord Glengariff, who, mounted on his pony, suddenly appeared beside them.

“Well, Dunn,” cried he, as he came up, “has she made a convert of you? Are you going to advocate the great project here?”

Dunn looked sideways towards Lady Augusta, who, seeing his difficulty, at once said, “Indeed, papa, we never spoke of the scheme. I doubt if either of us as much as remembered there was such a thing.”

“Well, I’m charmed to find that your society could prove so fascinating, Augusta,” said Lord Glengariff, with some slight irritation of manner, “but I must ask of Mr. Dunn to bear with me while I descend to the very commonplace topic which has such interest for me. The very spot we stand on is admirably suited to take a panoramic view of our little bay, the village, and the background. Carry your eyes along towards the rocky promontory on which the stone pines are standing; we begin there.”

Now, most worthy reader, although the noble Lord pledged himself to be brief, and really meant to keep his word, and although he fancied himself to be graphic, – truth is truth, – he was lamentably prolix and confused beyond all endurance. As for Dunn, he listened with an exemplary patience; perhaps his thoughts were rambling away elsewhere, – perhaps he was compensated for the weariness by the occasional glances which met him from eyes now downcast, now bent softly upon him. Meanwhile the old Lord floundered on, amidst crescents and bathing-lodges, yacht stations and fisheries, aiding his memory occasionally with little notes, which, as he contrived to mistake, only served to make the description less intelligible. At length he had got so far as to conjure up a busy, thriving, well-to-do watering-place, sought after by the fashionable world that once had loved Brighton or Dieppe. He had peopled the shore with loungers, and the hotels with visitors; equipages were seen flocking in, and a hissing steamer in the harbor was already sounding the note of departure for Liverpool or Holyhead, when Dunn, suddenly rousing himself from what might have been a revery, said, “And the money, my Lord, – the means to do all this?”

“The money – the means – we look to you, Dunn, to answer that question. Our scheme is a great shareholding company of five thousand – no, fifty – nay, I ‘m wrong. What is it, Augusta?”

“The exact amount scarcely signifies much, my Lord. The excellence of the project once proved, money can always be had. What I desired to know was, if you already possessed the confidence of some great capitalist favorable to the undertaking, or is it simply its intrinsic merits which recommend it?”

“Its own merits, of course,” broke in Lord Glengariff, hastily. “Are they not sufficient?”

“I am not in a position to affirm or deny that opinion,” said Dunn, gravely. “Let me see,” added he, to himself, while he drew a pencil from his pocket, and on the back of a letter proceeded to scratch certain figures. He continued to calculate thus for some minutes, when at last he said: “If you like to try it, my Lord, with an advance of say twenty thousand pounds, there will be no great difficulty in raising the money. Once afloat, you will be in a position to enlist shareholders easily enough.” He spoke with all the cool indifference of one discussing the weather.

“I must say, Dunn,” cried Lord Glengariff, with warmth, “this is a very noble – a very generous offer. I conclude my personal security – ”

“We can talk over all this at another time, my Lord,” broke in Dunn, smiling. “Lady Augusta will leave us if we go into questions of bonds and parchments. My first care will be to send you down Mr. Steadman, a very competent person, who will make the necessary surveys; his report, too, will be important in the share market.”

“So that the scheme enlists your co-operation, Dunn, – so that we have you with us,” cried the old Lord, rubbing his hands, “I have no fears as to success.”

“May we reckon upon so much?” whispered Lady Augusta, while a long, soft, meaning glance stole from her eyes.

Dunn bent his head in assent, while his face grew crimson.

“I say, Augusta,” whispered Lord Glengariff, “we have made a capital morning’s work of it – eh?”

“I hope so, too,” said she. And her eyes sparkled with an expression of triumph.

“There is only one condition I would bespeak, my Lord. It is this: the money market at this precise moment is unsettled, over-speculation has already created a sort of panic, so that you will kindly give me a little time – very little will do – to arrange the advance. Three weeks ago we were actually glutted with money, and now there are signs of what is called tightness in discounts.”

“Consult your own convenience in every respect,” said the old Lord, courteously.

“Nothing would surprise me less than a financial crisis over here,” said Dunn, solemnly. “Our people have been rash in their investments latterly, and there is always a retribution upon inordinate gain!”

Whether it was the topic itself warmed him, or the gentle pressure of Lady Augusta’s arm as in encouragement of his sentiments, but Dunn continued to “improve the occasion” as they strolled along homeward, inveighing in very choice terms against speculative gambling, and deploring the injury done to honest, patient industry by those examples of wealth acquired without toil and accumulated without thrift. He really treated the question well and wisely, and when he passed from the mere financial consideration to the higher one of “morals” and the influence exerted upon national character, he actually grew eloquent.

Let us acknowledge that the noble Lord did not participate in all his daughter’s admiration of this high-sounding harangue, nor was he without a sort of lurking suspicion that he was listening to a lecture upon his, own greed and covetousness; he, however, contrived to throw in at intervals certain little words of concurrence, and in this way occupied they arrived at the Hermitage.

It is not always that the day which dawns happily continues bright and unclouded to its close; yet this was such a one. The dinner passed off most agreeably, the evening in the drawing-room was delightful. Lady Augusta sang prettily enough to please even a more critical ear than Mr. Dunn’s, and she had a tact, often wanting in better performers, to select the class of music likely to prove agreeable to her hearers. There is a very considerable number of people who like pictures for the story and music for the sentiment, and for these high art is less required than something which shall appeal to their peculiar taste. But, while we are confessing, let us own that if Mr. Dunn liked “the melodies,” it assuredly added to their charm to hear them sung by a peer’s daughter; and as he lay back in his well-cushioned chair, and drank in the sweet sounds, it seemed to him that he was passing a very charming evening.

Like many other vulgar men in similar circumstances, he wondered at the ease and unconstraint he felt in such choice company! He could not help contrasting the tranquil beatitude of his sensations with what he had fancied must be the coldness and reserve of such society. He was, as he muttered to himself, as much at home as in his own house; and truly, as with one hand in his breast, while with the fingers of the other he beat time, – and all falsely, – he looked the very ideal of his order.

“Confound the fellow!” muttered the old peer, as he glanced at him over his newspaper, “he is insufferably at his ease amongst us!”

And Sybella Kellett, where was she all this time – or have we forgotten her? Poor Sybella! she had been scarcely noticed at dinner, scarcely spoken to in the drawing-room, and she had slipped unperceived away to her own room.

They never missed her.

CHAPTER XLII. THE GERM OF A BOLD STROKE

If Mr. Davenport Dunn had passed a day of unusual happiness and ease, the night which followed was destined to be one of intense labor and toil. Scarcely had the quiet of repose settled down upon the Hermitage, than the quick tramp of horses, urged to their sharpest trot, was heard approaching, and soon after Mr. Hankes descended from his travelling-carriage at the door.

Dunn had been standing at his open window gazing into the still obscurity of the night, and wondering at what time he might expect him, when he arrived.

“You have made haste, Hankes,” said he, not wasting a word in salutation. “I scarcely looked to see you before daybreak.”

“Yes, sir; the special train behaved well, and the posters did their part as creditably. I had about four hours altogether in Dublin, but they were quite sufficient for everything.”

“For everything?” repeated Dunn.

“Yes; you’ll find nothing has been forgotten. Before leaving Cork, I telegraphed to Meekins of the ‘Post,’ and to Browne of the ‘Banner,’ to meet me on my arrival at Henrietta Street. Strange enough, they both were anxiously waiting for some instructions on the very question at issue. They came armed with piles of provincial papers, all written in the same threatening style. One in particular, the ‘Upper Ossory Beacon,’ had an article headed, ‘Who is our Dionysius?’”

“Never mind that,” broke in Dunn, impatiently. “You explained to them the line to be taken?”

“Fully, sir. I told them that they were to answer the attacks weakly, feebly, deprecating in general terms the use of personalities, and throwing out little appeals for forbearance, and so on. On the question of the Bank, I said, ‘Be somewhat more resolute; hint that certain aspersions might be deemed actionable; that wantonly to assail credit is an offence punishable at law; and then dwell upon the benefits already diffused by these establishments, and implore all who have the interest of Ireland at heart not to suffer a spirit of faction to triumph over their patriotism.’”

“Will they understand the part?” asked Dunn, more impatiently than before.

“Thoroughly; Browne, indeed, has a leader already ‘set up’ – ”

“What do I care for all these?” broke in Dunn, peevishly. “Surely no man knows better than yourself that these fellows are only the feathers that show where the wind blows. As to any influence they wield over public opinion, you might as well tell me that the man who sweats a guinea can sway the Stock Exchange.”

Hankes shook his head dissentingly, but made no reply.

“You have brought the Bank accounts and the balance-sheet?”

“Yes, they are all here.”

“Have you made any rough calculation as to the amount – ” He stopped.

“Fifty thousand ought to cover it easily – I mean with what they have themselves in hand. The first day will be a heavy one, but I don’t suspect the second will, particularly when it is known that we are discounting freely as ever.”

“And now as to the main point?” said Dunn.

“All right, sir. Etheridge’s securities give us seventeen thousand; we have a balance of about eleven on that account of Lord Lackington; I drew out the twelve hundred of Kellett’s at once; and several other small sums, which are all ready.”

“It is a bold stroke!” muttered Dunn, musingly.

“None but an original mind could have hit upon it, sir. I used to think the late Mr. Robins a very great man, sir, – and he was a great man, – but this is a cut above him.”

“Let us say so when it has succeeded, Hankes,” said Dunn, with a half-smile.

As he spoke, he seated himself at the table, and, opening a massive account-book, was soon deep in its details. Hankes took a place beside him, and they both continued to con over the long column of figures together.

“We stand in a safer position than I thought, Hankes,” said Dunn, leaning back in his chair.