Heir and no Heir. A tale

Chapter I

The town of Dalragh, in the north-west ot' Ulster, which had been considerably agitated by the civil war in the wild days of James II. and Tyrconnel, was again exposed, in the year 1798, to the dangers of revolution. It, however, escaped them on the whole better than most Irish towns of the same size. Inhabited mostly by Prelatists and Presby terians, while the neighbouring mountains were entirely peopled by Roman Catholics, its one broad street was the frequent scene of quarrels and fights between them, especially on fair and market days, when after a certain amount of drinking, its influence often revived ancestral enmity. It boasted of two hotels — one comparatively large, clean, and comfortable ; the other smaller, darker, and not so well furnished, always attract ing more guests, and often more cheerful or rather more noisy and disorderly than the E other.

The first represented the Protestant government in the religion and politics of its host, and was specially patronised by the Pro testant landlord of the place, Sir Richard Strat ford. The arms of the Larrivale family were displayed over the door in a style more gorgeous than artistic, yet the name and title of Lord Larrivale had disappeared, and Dalragh was now owned by a sisters son of the last noble man, Sir Richard Stratford, a man of imperious temper, but in cases of real suffering, extremely humane. He was the widowed parent of two sons, the eldest of whom, Randolph Stratford, gay, wild, and thoughtless, was never so much in his father's favour as the younger brother, Clement, whose calm good sense and prudence were a thorough contrast to his lively, dissipated elder brother. The latter, however, was always the idol of Dalragh.

No one except his father seemed ever angry with him, while Clement, shrewd and thoughtful, combining his father's sense with a mild temper, was secretly despised by many for his supposed want of spirit and energy. At the close of '97 and commencement of '98 Randolph was in England and France, having for some months been banished from the paternal home, owing to his wild, reckless conduct, as his father's friends said, while his own numerous friends, of high and low degree, averred that no young man of his high spirit could endure the suspicious, vexatious tyranny of Sir Richard. Dalragh had long been divided in religion among Catholics, Prelatists, and Presbyterians, and in politics between loyalists to England, most of whom were Protestants, and Roman Catholics, whose loyalty iu some cases was doubtful.

The two minorities of loyal Catholics and rebellious Protestants were in coustant strife with distrustful co-religionists, while among both Catholic and Protestant revolutionists there was often a silence or a vague scepticism about all religion. This latter feeling which animated many " United Irish" leaders, as the movement was called, made little progress among the disaffected lower orders in Ireland, aud it was, therefore, prudently concealed by the former till their followers should be prepared for its avowal. Like most Irish towns, Dalragh was greatly influenced by its clergy even iu politics. Unlike many others, it was pretty equally divided between Protestants, Presbyterians, and Catholics ; the last-named were a minority in the town itself, but a majority in the adjacent mountains.

The two Protestant sections, though occasionally quarrelling with each other, were always driven into a sort of involun tary union sooner or later by the historical enmity which alienated the Roman Catholic descendants of the ancient Irish race from all the Protestants who were descendants of British colonists. Thus Dalragh was in itself a sort of Ireland in miniature, only with a far larger proportion of Protestants to Catholics than was usual throughout the rest of the country, where the latter were in a large majority. Among the Protestants, the Presbyterians exceeded the Prelatists in number, and boasted of three meeting-houses, all well-filled weekly with sturdy listeners, while the Protestant Church, though supported \yy the Stratford family and their dependents, was smaller than any of them and yet large enough for all who attended it.

There was no Catholic Church in the town. In the opinion of the few residents or travel lers who knew Dalragh as well as the rest of Ireland it was expected to follow suit rather slowly in the development of Irish revolution. For many years a mutual, hereditary distrust had hardened many Catholics and Protestants into a stern repudiation of each other's natural rights in this world aud of salvation in the next. ( Iccasionally a milder spirit was expressed among its three denominations, but it was hitherto usually repressed by the majority in each. Latterly, however, a spirit of union among all religious denominations for political pur poses appeared — especially in Dublin and Belfast, beyond which towns few among Dal ragh's rustic inhabitants ever thought of ex ploring during the close of the last century.

In the loyal Larrivale Arms hotel, some months before the '98 outbreak, were assembled a select few of the village politicians. There was no danger of dispute among them, except in loyal rivalry, when excited by drink or argument. Attachment to the Stratford family, pity for its disgraced heir, Randolph, well known as banished from his home, and by some thought disinherited, actuated most of the Dalragh people. A like feeling of com passion for the popular and dissolute young spendthrift inspired even the most rebellious. Some of the latter hoped that he might be induced to join them through the exasperation he naturally felt at his treatment by his father. Mr. Wilson, the loyal landlord of the Larri vale Arms, strongly attached to Sir Richard and Clement, the second son and his father's favourite, would never believe, or at least avow, the idea of Randolph joining in the contem plated revolt.

This scapegrace, in fact, had always been the enfant cheri in Dalragh till his final expulsion by his father. Rumour said that he had not only gambled and betted enor mously, but had tried to raise money payable at his father's death, both from Dublin and Lon don money-lenders. This last act was said to have broken the laden camel's back and ex hausted the last remnant of Sir Richard's patience, and its discovery was soon followed by Randolph's marriage with a foreign lady in London, with no fortune, aud whose family was quite unknown to the Stratfords. After the news of this marriage reached Dalragh two or three gentlemen were observed to visit Larrivale Castle from both Dublin and London; and again rumour said that Randolph was disinherited in favour of his younger brother, Clement — a quiet, shrewd young Dublin lawyer, careful of his time, money, and health ; thoroughly obedient to his father — in fact, a thorough contrast to his popular elder brother.

When the assembled party at the Larrivale Arms conversed, had an Englishman, acquainted with Irish poetry, been listening, he might have expected to hear occasionall}* the words mavourneen, acushla, etc., so frequent in the south of Ireland, but which are little known in Ulster, where the accent and style of speaking more resemble the Scottish, though when a Scotchman is present a difference is at once perceptible. " This country is going to the very devil, that's what it is," exclaimed the owner himself, who was usually excitable about politics. " Aye, it's just fit for him at this present," assented Mr. Duncan, Sir Richard Stratford's bailiff ; " 1 declare, by my soul, the very life is bothered out of me this last few months. Any thing like the lies, impudence, and villainy which is in this country now I never saw afore, or heard tell of."

" And this town of ours is getting worse every day, faith," remarked another of the loyal guests. " The very wee fellows are screaming out ' The French for ever,' ' Down with England,' 'Ireland for ourselves,' and chat like that. I heard only the other day two men of this place that ought to be honest fellows — faith, but I doubt they are far from it — abusing King George — God bless him — and sending him to the devil with all the curses ever you heard." "I'm guessing what two you're meaning," rejoined Mr. Frizell, a boisterous, hot-tempered land surveyor, who, having a few houses in Dalragh, highlyapproved of the law's supremacy, " Dan Murphy and Joe Devlin, the tailor, or who calls himself one, for he is fit for nothing but to stitch a few raffs together." o <__ " I tell you, Mr Frizell, it is not them two at all I'm meaning," said the other.

" Och, shure, what heed would I take of anything the like of them would say, no more than the squealing of a pair of rats. It was just the schoolmaster, Doolan, and some friend of his, both decent men to all appearance. It was just themselves, so it was, aud more shame to them, for they don't allow themselves to belike common bodies; but I doubt they are no better than the worst of them, if the truth was all known." " What do you say now, Mr. M'Cosh ?" said the host, appealing to a solemn, important looking personage, who sat beside him, and who was the rival schoolmaster in Dalragh to the rebellious Mr. Doolan. " What do you say now about your friend, who is in the same business as yourself? Many's the time I've seen you with him as great as brothers, and then again I find you differ with each other badly.

Speak up now, and tell us what is your notion of the man." ,:Why, Mr. Wilson," the other returned, clearing his throat, and speaking very slowly, evidently proud of his command of language, " you have asked me a question which involves matters of serious, if not dangerous, import. The insurrectionary feeling is undoubtedly spreading both in our village and throughout its vicinity, especially in the mountain districts. In man}' places that I know of about here true loyalty is rare, and all the more precious on that account. Loyal hearts are, in fact, what might be called rari nantes in gurgite vasto — " " Och, Mr. M'Cosh, what is the sense of your talking that way to us ? Do you think it's at some school you are, with all your grand words ? Just speak out plain what you mean, and no more about it," exclaimed the host, impatiently.

" It is not easy," returned the schoolmaster, with a mixture of contempt and resignation natural to one believing himself bound to please mental inferiors, " it is by no means easy, nay, it is not always possible, to express in everyday, commonplace language a correct opinion respecting the present dangerous position of this country, and I may add of this remote and formerly quiet district also. It is evident, how ever, to my mind that if means, prompt, decisive, and efficient, are not speedily taken by the ' powers that be,' a worse fate — " " Och, I'll tell you what it is," broke in Mr. Frizell, rising to leave the house, but resolved to say something important before doing so, " I'll tell you what it is. If Mr. Randolph would only return home and make peace with his father, as he should do, aud give up his wild follies, it would just quiet everything about this town, anyway.

Shure all the rebels in it are thinking he will lead them in this cursed rebellion, but, wild as he is, he'll never do the like o' that, unless he's gone mad altogether." " Mr. Frizell," began the cautious host, " you are trenching now on dangerous ground, and talking about things that had better be kept quiet." " All right, then, I'll say no more. Good night all ! " said Mr. Frizell, afraid he had spoken too much, but resolved to blame others for it. " I wish to heaven you would keep off politics, for it's hard enough on a man like me not to speak out his mind — " But here his face becoming* more irate, and his state of semi-intoxication more apparent, he was quietly induced by the host and schoolmaster to leave the hotel. When alone in Dalragh street Mr. Frizell, whose bark was always worse than his bite, as his acquaintances allowed, yet felt so cross and vexed lest he should have said too much about the quarrels in the Stratford family, for which he had a sincere respect, that he resolved to relieve his mind by scolding some of his poorest tenants living near the hotel.

These people, two old sisters, he had always been in the habit of quarrelling with about the constantly-delayed rent. A quarrel between him and these old Devlin sisters was generally the delight of all the street lads to hear, witness, aud imitate. Yet hitherto none of the disputes had ever ended in the oftthreatened penalty of eviction. Frizell owned several small tenements in Dalragh, the rents of which he collected in his sober moments with care and coolness, but which in times like the present were only the cause of threats which were seldom carried out. " When's this you're going to pay me my own ? " he demanded, pushing his way through a small doorway into a dark, smoky kitchen. " Do you think I'm to be put off with your lies all my life? Now I'll just tell you what it is. If ye don't pay all you owe me — all, faith, every farthing of it — by this day week, out you go, the both of yez.' " Having* uttered this threat in a voice of thunder, he turned and groped his way back into the open street.

As he did so a withered old woman, to whom his words were addressed, tottered to the door and watched his unsteady progress. " You'll come to a bad end yet — aye, will ye," she muttered. " Is it the like of you, that's just hanging on old Sir Richard for your bread, that's to be trampling on us ? God, but if Mr. Randolph was here and in his right place there would be a new world for us entirely." At this moment a good-looking, merry youth, about twenty, walked whistling past, and she called after him — " Larry — Larry Hanlon, any news of the young master ? Come in and tell us do, dear, tell us the news." " Thank ye, I'm just near enough ye," returned the young fellow, with a pleasant laugh, while turning round he walked backwards while talking. "News? Aye, is there. The ould chap sent us a letter this very day.

Mr. Randolph and him are both in London still; but they have a notion of coming here in a few days. That is good news, isn't it now?" and in spite of the old woman's entreaties for more news Master Larry rau off, whistling a variety of Irish airs, all of a comic nature. By " ould chap " he meant his father, and the old woman knew it. "Faith, I do call that news, and great news, too. Aye, faith, and a relief, so it is, if it's only true," she muttered, while returning to her elder sister, who was crouching by a dim fire. "Matty, Matty — och, dear, but you're hard of hearing now — I hear from Larry Hanlon that Mr. Randolph will soon be over here ; anyway, there is a chance of it. He and ould Mick Hanlon are both in London now, doing well, and will soon be here." The old woman whom she addressed for some moments tried vainly to hear, and when at last she understood the words she clasped her withered hands together.

" If ould Hanlon's the man he once was he never will desert his young master. Never ! never! never!" she repeated. "But I feel, someway it's borne on my mind, that there is some misfortune coming on us afore long. Maybe it's only my notion. But the dear knows," she repeated, gazing vacantly at the fire. At this moment Larry's whistling was again heard as he repassed the hovel on the opposite side of the street, and the youngest sister, hobbling to the door, called out to him — " Come here just a moment, darling, and tell us the news once again." Larry good-naturedly approached. " Is it true, now, dear," the old woman proceeded, drawing him closely to her, " is it true, this story of young Mr. Randolph's marriage ? What does your father say of it, now ? It has been the talk of the country this last month.

Can't you tell us if it's true? " " Wait till the ould chap tells ye himself," retorted Larry. "Married? Aye, faith, I believe he is. Sure, any woman in this world would take him, and be glad to get the chance," he added, moving away. " Och, dear, but he's the fine man every way ; good luck to him." " Won't you come in and speak to the ould woman? She is deaf now, but I can make her hear rightly," exclaimed Lily, trying to catch his hand, but Larry, far too nimble for her, laughingly ran off, while Lily returned to her sister. " Mr. Randolph will return yet and keep his promise to us," she shouted consolingly to the elder woman. " Sure, it's more than a score of years since you were nursing, or helping to nurse him, I should say, up at the Castle, when he promised that when once he was a growed-up man we'd never suffer cold, want, nor hunger."

Old Matty, with her wonted quickness, caught the meaning of her sister's words. " Aye, faith he did, he did ; bless him for it," she muttered, " but heaven knows what may be happening to himself by this time. I had a quare dream about him the other night. Perhaps it's folly to speak of it, but I'm afeared he is in some danger. God knows ; we can't tell. I'm that old and far failed myself I can't last long anyway," and her vacant eyes again looked at the fire, from which she seemed to derive all the life that remained in her. Lily moved close to her, stirred the fire, and muttered to herself — " Aye, he promised that we should never again suffer cold, want, or hunger, but all three are coming on us now, aud we are ill fitted to face any of them."

Chapter II

The letter to which Larry alluded was written in a small, rather dark house in London, near Regent Street. It was a tolerably well furnished, yet dingy mansion, and the present abode of a certain Madame Laroche, a French lady. In its small drawing-room, a few days after the letter was sent, Madame Laroche was seated reading a novel, but occasionally glancing at a much younger lady, her daughter, a handsome contrast to herself, who certainly retained no appearance of good looks, while her sharp little eyes and grim expression revealed a temper the reverse of amiable. The young lady, answering to the name of Natalie, after playing on a small piano, which, like everything else iu the house, had evidently seen its best days, rose in a pouting manner, and taking up a book began to look at it, but not to read.

" You used to compliment me about my playing," she remarked in French, and in ■__ sarcastic voice, " but now I hear nothing but complaints and fault-finding." " And with good reason," returned Madame Laroche, sharply, "considering what annoyance, trouble, and disappointment are hanging over us." " And am I to blame for it ? " replied Natalie. " I know what you refer to, but you and Emile were quite as eager as myself about this marriage. Had it not been for both of you — " " Come, come, what is the use of upbraiding now ? " exclaimed the youug man referred to as Emile, who, in a corner of the room, was half hid behind a newspaper he held. " It's too late for mutual reproach or regret. We must all make the best of circumstances." " It's all very well for you to talk in this way," replied Natalie, bitterly — "very easy indeed.

The world lies open to you, but it's now closed, or at least changed, perhaps for ever, to me." "My son speaks wisely, as he always does," remarked Madame Laroche, patting Emile approvingly on the shoulder. " Ma sol, to think of so much good sense in, alas ! such a weak frame. But take care of yourself, my dear, for all our sakes," and she looked at him with as much tenderness as her grim old visage was capable of expressing. Emile was a thiu, short, languid-looking, pale youth, with large, bright eyes. He rose, and, moving with a soft, cat-like step towards the window, exclaimed — " Ah ! here are our dear friends, Dupont and Visconti, French and Italian. Are they not really good specimens of the two nations ? Dupont, lively, merry, always laughing, Vis conti, sad, sentimental, and trying to look like a hero of romance."

At this moment a knock and ring came to the door, and the heavy step of an old man was heard in the passage going to open it. " Emile," exclaimed Madame Laroche, sharply, " speak to that stupid old pig of an Irishman, Hanlon. He was rude before to these gentlemen, and will be so again if you don't stop him. Natalie, if you had the spirit of a cat you'd have made your sposo dismiss him long ago." -*' He and his fond master seem to suit each other," retorted the beauty, scornfully. " Be sides, you well know, we agreed not to quarrel with my sposo, till the time when '' — here she lowered her voice so that only Madame Laroche could hear her — " we may have to do so." Emile had opened the door and gone into the passage during these tew words, and, imposing silence upon Hanlon — a sensible-looking old man, but in evident ill-humour — returned with the two guests to the drawing-room.

After profound bows to Madame Laroche and Natalie, the visitors inquired after Mr. Randolph, the "Irish lion," as Visconti called him. "Yes, he is a fine-looking man, certainly," said Madame Laroche, " but he has no expression. He is all brute strength, with no mind, no look of intelligence." " He used to be perfection with you," thought Natalie to herself, " when you thought him very rich ; but all is changed now." "We seldom see him till late in the even ing," pursued Madame Laroche. " He is always occupied with his law studies, and then this sad quarrel with his father. Ah ! " and here Madame Laroche paused and sighed. " Ah ! really," exclaimed Visconti, who, together with Dupont, were distant relatives of Madame Laroche. " Does that old what shall I call him — Turk, savage, no name is bad enough for Sir Richard Stratford — does he not relent yet ?

Ah ! shame, shame, shame ! " " When once he sees madame," observed Dupont, bowing to Natalie, " all objections, all displeasure must give way, must vanish, and nothing but delight at his son's good fortune can enter his mind." Visconti echoed these words, keeping his large dark eyes fixed on Natalie. " Do you know," he began, with an artful smile, " I met Count Morano the other day ? Ah ! he and the sweet Adelia are not very happy together. I never thought they would be. Quite, quite unsuited to each other." " Now, Aurelio.be silent," exclaimed Madame Laroche. " You know this is a painful sub iect-'' . . ... _ " It is no such thing, I assure you," ex claimed Natalie. " Count Morano is nothing C to me now, whatever he might have been. His treatment of poor, dear Adelia has shown me what he is.

I despise him from my heart, and always shall till the end of my life." Rising from her seat she was about to leave the room, but suddenly changing her mind, perhaps knowing that Visconti and Dupont were watching her, she sat down before the piano, and, in a sweet, clear voice, sang a lively French air. Dupont and Visconti stood, bowing and com plimenting, beside the piano when the " Irish lion," Mr. Randolph Stratford, entered the room. He was, indeed, a fine-looking, handsome man — tall, muscular, well-proportioned, with a frank, cheerful, yet careless expression. A great change in manner immediately came over all in the room at his entrance. Madame Laroche and Natalie received him with the most affectionate sweetness ; not a trace of ill humour, vexation, or anger remained in any of their smiling faces.

Messrs. Dupont and Visconti soon reminded Natalie of a favourite vocal quartette of Randolph's, which they, with Emile, immediately began to sing, while Madame Laroche accompanied them on the piano, with a far more amiable expression of face than she had hitherto shown. Randolph, whose entrance had made such a sudden change in the manner and looks of the company, sat listening with the silent pleasure of a lover of music ; while his old servant, Hanlon, to whom he had given a letter in the hall, looking both cross and dismal, left the house with it during the harmonious crash of the brilliant music.

Chapter III

Old Hanlon had not gone far when he met a quiet, respectable looking Scotchman, about his own age. They met with evident pleasure. " You're just the man I want," exclaimed Hanlon, his rapid utterance and Irish accent contrasting with the slow voice of the other. " Mr. M'Crea, I was just going to see your master, Mr. Hamilton, with this letter from my poor gentleman. He wants an answer to it at once, and faith, he needs all the help he can get at this moment, aye, does he." " I doubt, indeed, I_6 is not in a vara pleasant position at this present time, poor gentleman," returned Mr. M'Crea, in a cautious, deliberate tone, and looking carefully around him. " From all I hear from Mr. Hamilton, who never says anything but truth, and from yourself, Micky, I doubt Mr. Randolph is not in the best o' company."

" Best of company, aye?" rejoined old Hanlon so loudly and eagerly that the cautious Scotchman advised him to speak lower, as they walked towards Mr. Hamilton's abode. "No, Mr. M'Crea, he is just falling into bad hands on all sides. Bless my soul, but they are the cursed bad lot, the whole of them — the wife, the ould woman, and the brother. And any amount of friends calling on them. I tell you there is not a real lady or gentleman in the whole lot. They're just a set of — " " Whisht, whisht, you can't be too careful of what you say in the London streets," replied the Scotchman, who besides knowiug the metropolis far better thau Hanlon did, was always more sparing of words. " You are not in the mountains or woods of Dalragh," he added with a calm smile. " No, faith, I'm not; I wish to God I was," returned the other.

" I'll tell you what it is, Mr. M'Crea, it is this cursed London has been the ruination of poor Mr. Randolph. This marriage of his will just put his father clean mad entirely, when he knows as much as I do already about — " Here he stopped, and Mr. M'Crea continued — " About his lady you mean? Surely not ?" " Ah ! now I wish to all the powers in heaven and earth he had never set eyes on her, or any of the party," the old man exclaimed, eagerly. " No good ever can come out of such a connection, that's my notion. Sure, they have scarcely a penny among them, but what they twist and work out of him. They starve, or try to starve the only two sarvants in the house. They pay for nothing till they're afeared of the law being took against them. They — " " There, there ! that's enough for this evening," remarked Mr. M'Crea.

" I advise you, Micky Hanlon, never to let a word out of your head about these people except to Mr. Hamilton, who, as Sir Richard's law agent, should know everything, of course." "Aye, but I can trust yourself as well as him," replied Hanlon, whose pent-up feelings longed to have some vent. " Sure, I know rightly there is nothing but friendship in you for all the Stratford family — and right, too, since your own master's living by them; and a good friend he is to them, as is his duty. I wish to the good God that my poor master had taken his advice. He once told me that he tried to warn him agin these people, but all was of no use, more's the pity. And there's more harm to come yet ; we haven't seen the half of it; that's my true notion." After these doleful misgivings, Hanlon said little, but walked on silently with Mr. M'Crea till they reached Mr. Hamilton's house.

This gentleman, an old and trusted friend of Sir Richard Stratford, was also his law adviser, and often made visits to Dalragh, where his nephew, of the same name, was land agent. Both these gentlemen deeply deplored the quarrelling between the baronet and his son, the uncle, on the whole, pitying the latter, while his nephew at Dalragh, foreseeing the ruinous results of Randolph's imprudent habits," was more inclined to take the part of Sir Richard. Young Hamilton cordially hoped, in common with most thoughtful people, that the estate might be left to the prudent, careful Mr. Clement Stratford. But on this delicate subject both these gentlemen, except when together, always observed a cautious silence. They were, however, on the most confidential terms with both Sir Richard and Randolph, but were alike utterly unable to promote any reconciliation between father and son, the latter having been, almost from childhood, the tool of false friends and disreputable acquaintances.