Country Quarters. A novel. With a memoir by [M. A.] Power

Chapter I

The day passed over without Mordant seeing or hearing from Herbert Vernon ; and, when he went to the mess to dine, his friend did not appear there. Whether his absence was to be taken as a favourable omen or not, Mordant could not decide ; but his fears whispered that, " Perhaps Vernon, as an accepted lover, had been engaged to dine by the Countess O'Neill." The pain this supposition occasioned convinced him that his heart was still far from being in a state to look on the happiness of Vernon with the indifference into which he thought he had schooled it to bear the success of his friend. VOL. II. B " Where is Vernon ?" demanded more than one of his brother officers ; an inquiry that elicited the information that the missing gentleman had ordered some mutton broth to his room. What a transition did this intelligence create in Mordant's feelings !

It revealed the whole history of Vernon's blighted hopes, and, as he pictured him to his mind in the solitude of his room, too sad and depressed to meet the eyes of his brother officers, he felt all his friendship for him revive, and the deepest sympathy take the place of the envy which, in spite of his better feelings, had previously taken posses sion of him. Herbert Vernon, the accepted, the happy suitor of the lovely Grace O'Neill, seated at table, en famille, with her and her grandmother, was too enviable a man to be thought of by Mordant without bitterness ; but, as the solitary occupant of a barrack-room, self condemned to the insipid regimen of mutton broth and dry toast, furnishing a proof pre sumptive, if not a protest, for seclusion on the plea of indisposition, was viewed in a very different spirit, and Mordant's heart softened towards his friend as he thus pictured him.

" I will not, however, break in unbidden on his solitude," thought he ; " I will wait until he sends for, or writes to me. I will betray no impatience to learn the result of his suit, although I cannot help feeling much. Yet, why should I thus feel? What can it be to me ? To accept Herbert Vernon's most generous offer would be im possible in any case less urgent than the peace of her who is dearer to me than aught else in life, and I am not so vain as to believe that I have endangered her happi ness." While these reflections were passing in the mind of Mordant, a conversation was going on between the members of the mess table. " You have heard the commotion that Hunter has caused in the town ?" observed one of the officers. " Come, come, don't make mountains of molehills," replied Hunter, looking half angry, yet deprecating the renewal of a subject that was evidently disagreeable to him.

" Oh, a capital scene, wasn't it ?" remarked another. " Only fancy the picturesque group that presented itself to the Colonel this day B outside the barrack-gate, into which the sen tinels, with some difficulty, precluded them from entering." " I wish you'd drop the subject ; I have had quite enough of it," said Hunter, angrily. " It would be unkind to deprive Mordant of the pleasure we all so much enjoyed," added his tormentor. " Fancy, Mordant, about a dozen mothers, unkempt, and with a total disregard to cleanliness in their cos tume, apparently as disinclined to a contact with water as a man in a state of hydro phobia, beseeching, or rather besieging, our Colonel in every possible tone of brogue, from the Kerry to the Munster, to protect their hopeful sons from the largesse of the rich Misther Hunter. ' Och, sir, shure he'll en tirely destroy them,' exclaimed one. ' Won't he be the death of 'em ?

God forgive him,' cried another. ' And isn't five of the poor crathurs raving mad in their sick beds at this blessed moment V said a third. ' Didn't he make 'em run races till he knocked the breath out of their bodies, and then, when they stood panting, and the sweat — saving your honour's favour — running down over them like a shower of rain over a basket of kidney pratoes, didn't he make 'em jump right into the river to swim against each other for wagers ?' " ' And didn't he,' interrupted another speaker, throwing up her bony arms to Heaven, as if to implore its vengeance, ' didn't he give 'em enough halfpence to keep six dacent families in food for a month, to spend in whisky ?' ' And is it a wondher they are in their beds raving mad in a raging fever, the poor crathurs ? And we, the poor mothers that bore 'em, that suckled 'em, to be kept from our hard work, by which we can only earn enough to keep life and soul together, to be sitting up all night listening to their moans and groans, and their cries for more whisky.' ' Och, sure it was an un lucky day when they got the taste of it : for it's well known that childer, when once they get the taste of sperits, are for all the world like the foxes when once they get an egg, or a chicken, the power of man can't keep 'em out of the poultry yard ever after.' ' Sure, if they ever come back to life, after being so kilt as they are, how will we ever keep 'em from the whisky-shops ?' ' It's all up wid 'em ; ochone, ochone, won't they come to the gallows as sure as my name is Molly Fogarty?

For wasn't it the taste for the dhrink that drove Bill Hoolihaun out of his seven senses, and made him steal a horse and kill a man that tried to prevent him ?" Captain Sitwell, who recounted this scene in a very dramatic style, giving such very successful imitations of the various brogues of the speakers as " set the table in a roar," here paused for breath, and Hunter angrily left the mess-room, enraged at the laughter his adventures and their consequences had excited. " And what was the result ?" inquired M ordant. " That the Colonel sent over the surgeon to see the sick boys, and that Hunter, who came up in the midst of the tragi-comic scene, bestowed a liberal donation on ' the distressed mothers,' and promised nevermore to expose the lives of their sons to the danger of sudden transitions from heat to cold, nor their morals to the contagion of whisky-shops ; on which the Irish matrons retired to their homes, blessing the rich English gentleman, who, ' they were sure, meant no earthly harm to the poor childer, but just wished to amuse himself by a little sport.' " " Hunter is only thoughtless," observed one of the officers, " but is a good fellow in the main."

" I hope none of those poor boys will die," said the Colonel. " By-the-bye, would not this be a good opportunity for us to make a subscription to establish a school ?" suggested Major El vaston. " It would keep the children out of mischief, and give them some instruction." " Agreed, agreed," said many voices, and, before the party separated, a considerable sum was subscribed for the humble purpose proposed ; and, when Hunter heard of it the following day, he largely contributed to the scheme, saying, " that he whose folly had led to the whole thing, ought to give the most to carry out so good a plan." " O, Honor, have you heard how Mr. Hunter has killed half the poor children in the place?" said Mrs. O'Flaherty, entering her house in a state of great agitation. " Now, what cock-and-a-bull-story have you got hold of, mother ?" was the disrespect ful reply.

" You never believe anything, Honor ; but didn't I, with my own eyes, see Heaven knows how many poor wailing mothers, bemoaning and crying, go up to the barracks to demand vengeance on Mr. Hunter for having kilt their sons." " And don't we all know that kilt in our country does not mean killed ?" " But wasn't it cruel, Honor, for him to hurt them? You must allow it was; and the poor mothers would not say their sons were even kilt, unless he had severely mal treated them." " Mother, mother, you are just for all the world like a child — ready to believe any thing, or everything that people tell you." " Well, it isnt very mannerly of you to tell me so. You wouldn't hear Grace O'Neill speak in that manner to her grandmother." " Perhaps not ; but the Countess O'Neill and you are very different persons."

" Perhaps we may be ; but there's as great a difference between Grace O'Neill, Honor, and you — and it may be more — than between her grandmother and me." " Now you're on the high horse, mother, there will be no getting good of you for some hours ; so I'll go and take a walk." And Honor arose to prepare for going out. " You wouldn't see Grace O'Neill strolling about the streets by herself, or marching with them wild young officers. Oh, Honor ! how can you put yourself in the mouths of people in this manner ? What will they think, what will they say of you ?" " Hush, mother, you shouldn't be using such strange phrases as ' putting myself in the mouths of people.' Such a manner of speaking makes the officers laugh at you." " More shame for them, and for you to tell me of their impudence." And Mrs. O'Flaherty's face grew red with anger.

" There, again — off you go, mother. Once for all, don't be foolish — don't mind what people say, or think. Isn't it the first wish of your heart to see me married to a rich man ? Is it, or is it not ?" " Yes, certainly : but, mind, Honor — pro perly, respectably married. Sure what else do I think of from morning till night ?" " Well, then, mother, let me play my own game. I know what I'm about ; and you'll see that before long I'll be married to a rich man." B " God grant it, Honor, for that would be a joyful day to me. And, now you talk of marriage, it reminds me that I saw a wedding-ring in the candle last night as plain as ever I saw anything in my life ; and that's a good sign, my dear." " How can you be so superstitious, mother, as to pay any attention to dreams and signs ? It was only yesterday you told me that you heard the Banshee wailing under your window the night before."

" Well, and so I did, Honor, as sure as I am now sitting here." " Nonsense, mother, it was only the cat ; for I saw it. But I must be off; for I have business upon my hands that must not be neglected." " Honor, Honor, for the love of God take care what you are about ! It would be the death of me — it would bring my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave — if you got your self into any scrape ; and you're so wild and giddy that I am always in a fever when you are out of my sight." " How can I bring your grey hairs to the grave, when you have had them cut off, and wear a wig ? Wild and giddy as you think me, I know what I'm about ; and, though I may make a fool of somebody, no one shall make a fool of me, I can tell you ;" and off walked the reckless girl, leaving her weak and foolish mother to reflect on the hints thrown out by her in their recent conversation.

" She's such a wilful girl !" soliloquized Mrs. O'Flaherty, " that all I can say makes no impression on her ; but yet, somehow or other, I can't help thinking she'll manage to get a husband for herself better than if I were to interfere with her plans, for she's very cunning, and afraid of nothing. It's plain to be seen that this rich young officer, Mr. Hunter, whom every one says has oceans of gold, has taken a great fancy to her, though I could see that at first he rather disliked her. She has talked him into it ; and, if she can persuade him to marry her, sure her fortune, and mine, too, would be made. All this will be well and good ; but I had much rather that she was courted as Grace O'Neill is, that is, that those who have any thought of her would come here respect ful and distant, like as if they considered it a great favour and honour to be allowed to come sometimes, and not too often neither, and behave to her as gentlemen do to Grace and her grandmother, treating them as if they were queens, instead of being as much at their ease here, laughing, joking, aud quiz zing every one, and me more than any one else, until I don't know what to think or say.

" But it's no use fretting. One can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, as the saying is, and I can no more make Honor like Grace O'Neill. How she keeps men at a distance ! Her grandmother never has the least occasion to speak to her not to do this, or not to say t'other, while I'm always on thorns when Honor is playing off her tricks — quizzing one, flattering another, and trying to make fools of all, when she doesn't care a farthing for the whole set put together. I'm often quite ashamed, and don'-t know which way to turn. But it's no use fretting, as I said before. With such a daughter as Honor, it's like having a lottery ticket, that may turn up a prize and make a fortune, or a blank, and half kill one with disappointment. Judy ! Judy !" " Coming, ma'am." " Judy, just give me a cup of tea, with a spoonful of whisky in it.

Mind, only a teaspoonful, for I have a stitch in my stomach." Exit Judy, muttering to herself as she de scended to the kitchen to prepare the beve rage, " Surely the ould missis has so many stitches, and takes so many teaspoonfuls of whisky in the tea to cure 'em, she'll be sure to be sewn up ;" and the old woman, with the humour peculiar to her country folk, in dulged in a hearty laugh at her own plea santry. " I suppose," added Judy, " that a tea-spoon means a table-spoonful ; but, as I'm in doubt, I'll just give her the be nefit of my uncertainty, and make it a gravy-spoonful. Poor ould lady, 'twill do her no harm, as I know by experience, for 'twill only loosen the strings of her tongue, and then she'll be for telling me what a miserable woman she is to have lost a husband that bothered the life of her ; or else she'll fall asleep, and then she won't know how long Miss Honor has been out, and won't begin quarrelling when she comes in."

" Are you sure, Judy, that there's only a teaspoonful of whisky in this tea, for it smells mighty strong?" " I'll take my oath, ma'am, there's not a dhrop more than a spoonful." " I'm very poorly, Judy." " I dare say you are, ma'am, and no won der, you have so much fretting." " True for you, Judy. No one knows what I go through. To have lost such a husband ! Sure, when he was alive, I had nothings in the whole world to think of but to keep him quiet. He'd never let me med dle nor make in anything, for he'd have everything his own way." " That must have been a great comfort to you, ma'am." " Only, sometimes, he'd fly into such pas sions, and then, Judy, he'd push me and beat me. Oh, oh ! when I think of how many times I have been obliged to keep my room, Judy, from the black eyes he has given me —oh, oh !"

" Don't cry so, ma'am, you'll make your self quite ill, indeed you will. Compose yourself a bit." " But, when his passion was over, Judy then he would be so good-humoured, and he'd say he was sorry for having hurt my feelings. Oh ! oh ! oh !" ' What a polite gentleman he must have been, ma'am, to call blacking your eyes hurt ing your feelings." " Yes, Judy, he was very polite when he wanted to make friends. Oh ! oh ! what a miserable woman I am to have lost him !"

Chapter II

" What can have become of Sir Henry Travers' letter ?" said the Countess O'Neill, turning over the leaves of her blotting book. " I left it on my table, I am per fectly sure, yet I can find it nowhere." And she examined among her books, .thinking the letter might have got under one of them. " I did not see it," replied her grand daughter, " and, as it cannot be found, I fear it may have been blown into the street through the window." " That would be very disagreeable ; for, if taken up and read, a publicity would be given to Sir Henry's proposal that I much wish to avoid, and which could not be agreeable to him." " How strange his proposing for me, who have never given him the slightest encou ragement !" " Very true, my dearest child ; but rich men in general (and Sir Henry Travers in particular) are prone to think that their for tunes, if not themselves, are too tempting to be resisted, and more especially by girls who are not largely dowered."

" Which poor opinion of my sex renders me less compassionate for any pain which my rejection may inflict on him." " We must, however, treat him with po liteness and respect, Grace ; for a man can pay a woman no higher compliment than to solicit her hand." " I wish he would transfer his attentions to Florence, or Kate Fitzgerald — they would not, perhaps, refuse him." " I wish so, too, Grace ; for poor Lady Fitzgerald was telling me, the last day she was here, how desirous she is to have her daughters married." " They also desire it, and have told me as much. How odd that, with a kind father and mother, and with every indulgence beneath the paternal roof, daughters should wish to leave their parents !" " I have a presentiment, darling, that ere long another opportunity will be afforded you of leaving your fond old grandmother, and a much more tempting one than that which we have just declined."

" However tempting the offer may be, no thing shall ever induce me to leave you, dearest grandmother ;" and, as Grace spoke, a bright blush overspread her cheeks. " But how few men, my child, would like to have their gay establishment hampered with the perpetual presence of their wife's mother, much less of her grandmother, whose age and infirmities would render her residence even less desirable ? My greatest wish on earth, darling, is to see you happily settled in life before ' I go hence, and am no more seen ;' and, well aware of the obstacle which your persistance in not separat ing from me Mould oppose to your marrying, I must, once for all, tell you, darling that, when you marry, my determination is taken not to reside beneath the same roof with you. But don't weep," (the tears had started in Grace's eyes,) " don't be alarmed, al though I will not reside beneath the same roof, I have no objection, provided your future husband does not oppose it, to procure an abode as close to yours as can be found, so that no day may pass without. my seeing my own Grace."

" I could not love a husband who was not as anxious for your society as I am, my dear grandmother ;" and Grace arose and fondly embraced the Countess. " Bless, bless you, my own child !" " A letter from the Honourable Lieutenant Vernon, madam," said Patrick O'Donohough, entering the room and presenting the epistle on a silver waiter. " His servant attends for an answer." Patrick glanced at his young mistress, as he invariably styled Grace, and failed not to notice an expression of strong dissatisfaction on her countenance. " It is as I suspected," thought he, as he left the apartment. " She doesn't like this same Mr. Vernon, al though, I must own, he is a fine young man. I'd lay a wager of a bottle of wine that the letter contains a proposal of marriage, and, what's more, that it won'tbe accepted, although Lieutenant the Honourable Mr. Vernon is a fine young man ; ay, and a sensible and good one, too, and will be, as I hear, a very rich lord.

The young lady's heart is, I strongly suspect, pre-engaged. What else could make her grow so thoughtful, so grave-like ? — she that used to be as gay as a lark, her clear sweet voice ringing in my ears as she moved from room to room. She has left off singing now, or, when she does sit down to the piano, to please the Countess, I have re marked that she sings only melancholy songs. But I've heard tell that the nightin gale never sings so sweetly until its breast is pierced by a thorn ; and sure is not the dart of love in a maiden's breast the same as the thorn in the bird's ? But there's the bell — I must answer it." " Patrick, tell Mr. Vernon's servant he need not wait. I will send an answer." Patrick stole a look at his young lady, whose countenance, to him who had so long studied it, revealed that the contents of the letter brought by Mr. Herbert Vernon's ser vant had afforded her no pleasure.

" Yes, it's just as I suspected, she won't be Mrs. Herbert Vernon I see plainly ; but I have a strong notion that, if the proposal came from a certain gentleman, the first let ter of whose name is Captain Mordant, she would not look so discontented." Having dismissed Mr. Vernon's servant, Patrick resumed his cogitations. " 1 can't make out why the said Captain Mordant has left off coming here," thought Patrick, " and I think my young lady is as much puzzled and more distressed by his absence than I am ; and yet, on second thoughts, I believe she can hardly be more uneasy about it than I am, for sure whatever troubles her must trouble me, who have no interest or care for any one in life but for her grandmother and herself, the last ties on earth that remain to me of my dear lost masther. Oh ! what a pity that he did not live to see his grand child ; how he would have doted down on her; but sure he never saw his own daugh ter till he saw her in Heaven.

I often think what a blessed meeting it must have been. Thanks be to God, she could only give him pleasant tidings. She could tell him, and that must be a great comfort to his mind, that his widow never took another husband in his place, never took off her mourning for him, and that his poor faithful servant, Patrick O'Donohough, devoted his life, as in duty bound, to the widow, her child, his child, and grandchild, and hopes, when he leaves this world, to be allowed to serve and wait on his adored master in a better one !" and Patrick applied a handkerchief to his tearful eyes. " I don't know how it is," resumed he after a pause, " but there's something about Captain Mordant that always reminds me of my noble master. There's the same stately air, which seems natural to the Captain as it was to Count O'Neill.

There is the proud glance of the eyes, and the sweet smile which never glows into a laugh, but returns to a thoughtful expression, that I so often remarked in my dear master. I made sure he was in love with my young lady, and I can't help feeling sure of it still, for all he so seldom comes here now ; for how many times, when he little thought 1 observed him, have I not seen him, early in the morning and late at night, pass before this house and look up at the windows with his heart, and a sorrowful one it seemed to be, in his eyes ? How well I remember reading in a book that my dear master used to study for hours one particular passage that said, ' The course of true love never did run smooth ; But either it was different in blood, Or else misgraffed in respect of years ; Or else it stood upon the choice of friends ; Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.' " How hard it is, then, for poor lovers to be happy with so many things to interfere be tween 'em !

Sure I know by sad experience how many obstacles there are ! And wouldn't I now be a solitary and miserable old man if I hadn't placed all my hopes and depend ence for happiness on seeing my young mis tress happy ? When we get ould, we must find our happiness in helping to make that of others. I hear that Captain Mordant, though of a great and noble family, is poor, being only a second son, and all the fortune entail ed on the elder. Sure what an unnatural law it is that makes such a difference between the children of the same father and mother! One rich and enjoying every luxury money can give, and the other wanting the common comforts of life, and only because thefirst came into this world a year or two before the second ! Sure it's enough to make younger brothers hate their elder ones. I've a strong suspicion that it's being a younger brother and poor that makes Captain Mordant keep away from my young lady.

He finds he couldn't often see her without wishing never to leave her, and, as he isn't rich enough to propose, he thinks it more honourable to avoid her. But what if he has found this out too late ? " If the poor gentleman already loves her more than himself, and, worse still, if she loves him, isn't it a pity, ay, and a sin, too, that they should be kept asunder? If he could just have a hint given him that Miss O'Neill, instead of having only a poor fortune, as peo ple suppose, will have one quite sufficient for every comfort, though not for grandeur, perhaps he would take courage, come here as he used to do at first, and end by making his proposals. How can I manage this ? Let me see ; I might tell his servant, but then he is a poor, ignorant, vulgar fellow, not fit for a gentleman to talk to, so he dare not take the liberty to speak to his master, or repeat what I might say.

Lieutenant Vernon's ser vant is a superior man; he has education, and his master often talks to him when he is dressing. I'll tell it to him as a great secret, make him swear never to repeat it to mortal, and that will be sure to induce him to tell it to his master, who will probably repeat it to Captain Mordant. But what if Captain Mordant should be too proud and high-minded to propose to a lady richer than himself? and such things do happen sometimes. Ay, that would be a bad job ! Well, well, I must only wait and watch as a sentinel does, and do my best to bring this young couple toge ther, if, as I shrewdly suspect, they have set their hearts on each other." While these reflections were passing in the mind of the faithful Patrick O'Dono hough, the Countess O'Neill and her grand daughter were concocting a suitable answer to the letter received from Mr. Herbert Vernon.

" The offer is so good a one, so suitable in all points of view, my child, that it should not be lightly rejected," observed the Coun tess. " Yes, dearest grandmother, I grant Mr. Vernon appears to be a very amiable young man, and that his position is unexceptionable ; VOL. II. c but I do not, and I feel quite sure I never shall, entertain for him that preference a per son ought to feel to a suitor she accepts. He has not created the slightest interest in my heart ; I feel even more than indifference for him, owing to his persistance in seeking to win me when the marked coldness with which I have submitted to, rather than received, his attentions ought to have taught him that he had nothing to hope." " I must admit, Grace, that you certainly gave him no encouragement. Nevertheless, may we not look on his persistance as a proof of the steadiness and depth of his at tachment ?