The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1 (of 2)

  CHAPTER VIII. THE "HEAD" OF A FAMILY

  When Bagenal Daly reached the courtyard, he was disappointed at findingthat, instead of the surgeon whose arrival was so anxiously looked for,the visitor was no other than old Dr. Hickman, the father of HickmanO'Reilly, M. P. for the county, and grandfather of that very promisingyoung gentleman slightly presented to our reader in an early chapter.

  If the acorn be a very humble origin for the stately oak of the forest,assuredly Peter Hickman, formerly of Loughrea, "Apothecary and Surgeon,"was the most unpretending source for the high and mighty house ofO'Reilly. More strictly speaking, the process was only a "graft," andit is but justice to him to say, that of this fact no one was morethoroughly convinced than old Peter himself. Industry and thrift hadcombined to render him tolerably well off in the world, when the deathof a brother who had sought his fortunes in the East--when fortunes wereto be found in that region--put him in possession of something above twohundred thousand pounds. Even before this event, he had been known asa shrewd contriver of small speculations, a safe investor of littlecapital, was conversant, from the habits of his professional life, withthe private circumstances of every family of the country where moneywas wanting, and where repayment was sure; the very temperament ofhis patients suggested to him the knowledge by which he guided hisoperations, and he could bring his skill as a medical man into hisservice, and study his creditors with the eye of a physiologist.When this great accession of wealth so suddenly occurred, far fromcommunicating his good fortune to his friends and neighbors, he merelygave out that poor Tom had left him "his little savings," "though Godknows, in that faraway country, if he'd ever see any of it." Hisguarded caution on the subject, and the steady persistence with which hemaintained his former mode of life, gave credence to the story, and theutmost estimate of his wealth would not have gone beyond being a snugold fellow "that might give up his business any day." This was,however, the very last thing in his thoughts; the title of "Doctor," socourteously bestowed in Ireland on the humbler walks of medicine, wasa "letter of marque" enabling him to cruise in latitudes otherwiseinaccessible. Any moneyed embarrassment of the country gentry, anysevere pressure to be averted by an opportune loan or the sale of landedproperty, was speedily made available by him as a call to see whether"the cough was easier;" or "how was the gouty ankle;" if the "mistresswas getting better of the nerves," "and the children gaining strength bythe camomile." And in this way he made one species of gain subservientto another, while his character for kindness and benevolence was thetheme of the whole neighborhood.

  For several years long he pursued this course without deviating, andin that space had become the owner of estated property to a very greatextent, not only in his own, but in three neighboring counties. Howmuch longer he might have persisted in growing rich by stealth it isdifficult to say, when accident compelled him to change his _tactique_.A very large property had been twice put up for sale in the county Mayo,under the will of its late owner, the trustees being empowered to make agreat reduction in the price to any purchaser of the whole,--a conditionwhich, from the great value of the estates, seemed of little avail, nosingle individual being supposed able to make such a purchase.

  At last, and as a final effort to comply with the wishes of thetestator, the estate was offered at ten thousand pounds below theoriginal demand, when a bidder made his appearance, the offer wasaccepted, and the apothecary of Lough-rea became the owner of one of themost flourishing properties of the West, with influence sufficient toreturn a member for the county.

  The murder was now out, and the next act was to build a handsome butunpretentious dwelling-house on a part of the estate, to which heremoved with his son, a widower with one child. The ancient family ofO'Reilly had been the owners of the property, and the name was stillretained to grace the new demesne, which was called Mount O'Reilly,while Tom Hickman became Hickman O'Reilly, under the plea of somerelationship to the defunct,--a point which gained little credence inthe county, and drew from Bagenal Daly the remark "that he trusted thatthey had a better title to the acres than the arms of the O'Reillys."When old Peter had made this great spring, he would gladly have retiredto Loughrea once more, and pursued his old habits; but, like a blacklegwho has accidentally discovered his skill at the game, no one would playwith him again, and so he was fain to put up with his changed condition,and be a "gentleman," as he called it, in spite of himself.

  He it was who, under the pretence of a friendly call to see the Knight,now drove into the courtyard of Gwynne Abbey. His equipage was a smallfour-wheeled chair close to the ground, and drawn by a rough mountainpony which, in size and shape, closely resembled a water-dog. The ownerof this unpretending conveyance was a very diminutive, thin oldman, with a long, almost transparent nose, the tip of which was of araspberry red; a stiff queue, formed of his wiry gray hair carefullybrushed back, even from the temples, made a graceful curve on his back,or occasionally appeared in front of his left shoulder. His voice wasa feeble treble, with a tremulous quiver through all he said, whilehe usually finished each sentence with a faint effort content withhis opinion; and this, on remarkable occasions, at a laugh, a kindof acknowledgment to himself that he was would be followed by themonosyllable "ay,"--a word which, brief as it was, struck terror intomany a heart, intimating, as it did, that old Peter had just satisfiedhimself that he had made a good bargain, and that the other party was"done."

  The most remarkable circumstance of his appearance was his mode ofwalking, and even here was displayed his wonted ingenuity. A partialparalysis had for some years affected his limbs, and particularly themuscles which raise and flex the legs; to obviate this infirmity, hefastened a cord with a loop to either foot, and by drawing them upalternately he was enabled to move forward, at a slow pace, to be sure,and in a manner it was rather difficult to witness for the first timewith becoming gravity. This was more remarkable when he endeavored toget on faster, for then the flexion, a process which required a littletime, was either imperfectly performed or altogether omitted, andconsequently he remained stationary, and only hopped from one leg tothe other after the fashion of a stage procession. His dress was arusty black coat with a standing collar, black shorts, and white cottonstockings, over which the short black gaiters reached half way up theleg; on the present occasion he also wore a spencer of light gray cloth,as the day was cold and frosty, and his hat was fastened under his chinby a ribbon.

  "And so he is n't at home, Tate," said he, as he sat whipping thepony from habit,--a process which the beast seemed to regard with acontemptuous indifference.

  "No, Docther," for by this title the old man was always addressed bypreference, "the Knight's up in Dublin; he went on Monday last."

  "And this is the seventh of the month," muttered the other to himself."Faith, he takes it easy, anyhow! And you don't know when he'll behome?"

  "The sorra know I know, Docther; 't is maybe to-night he 'd come--maybeto-morrow--maybe it would be three weeks or a month; and it's not but wewant him badly this day, if it was God's will he was here!" Thesewords were uttered in a tone that Tate intended should provokefurther questioning, for he was most eager to tell of the duel and itsconsequences; but the "doctor" never noticed them, but merely muttered ashort "Ay."

  "How do you do, Hickman?" cried out the deep voice of Bagenal Daly atthe same moment. "You did n't chance to see Mulville on the road, didyou?"

  "How d'ye do, Mister Daly? I hope I see you well. I did n't meet Dr.Mulville this morning,--is there anything that's wrong here? Who is itthat's ill?"

  "A young fellow, a stranger, who has been burning powder with Mr.MacDonough up at Cluan, and has been hit under the rib here."

  "Well, well, what folly it is, and all about nothing, I 'll engage."

  "So your grandson would tell you," said Daly, sternly; "for if he feltit to be anything, this quarrel should have been his."

  "Faix, and I'm glad he left it alone," said the other, complacently;"'t is little good comes of the same fighting. I 'll be eighty-five
ifI live to March next, and I never drew sword nor trigger yet against anyman."

  "One reason for which forbearance is, sir, that you thereby escaped asimilar casualty to yourself. A laudable prudence, and likely to becomea family virtue."

  The old doctor felt all the severity of this taunt against his grandson,but he merely gave one of his half-subdued laughs, and said, in a lowvoice, "Did you get a note from me, about a fortnight ago? Ay!"

  "I received one from your attorney," said Daly, carelessly, "and I threwit into the fire without reading it."

  "That was hasty, that was rash, Mr. Daly," resumed the other, calmly;"it was about the bond for the four thousand six hundred--"

  "D----n me if I care what was the object of it! I happened to have someweightier things to think of than usury and compound interest, as I,indeed, have at this moment. By the by, if you have not forgotten theold craft, come in and see this poor fellow. I 'm much mistaken, or histime will be but short."

  "Ay, ay, that's a debt there's no escaping!" muttered the old man,combining his vein of moralizing with a sly sarcasm at Daly, while hebegan the complicated series of manouvres by which he usually effectedhis descent from the pony carriage.

  In the large library, and on a bed hastily brought down for the purpose,lay Forester, his dress disordered, and his features devoid of allcolor. The glazed expression of his eye, and his pallid, half-partedlips showed that he was suffering from great loss of blood, for,unhappily, Mr. Daly's surgery had not succeeded in arresting thissymptom. His breathing was short and irregular, and in the convulsivemovement of his fingers might be seen the evidence of acute suffering.At the side of the bed, calm, motionless, and self-possessed, with anair as stern as a soldier at his post, stood Sandy M'Grane; he had beenordered by his master to maintain a perfect silence, and to avoid, ifpossible, even a reply to Forester's questions, should he speak to him.The failure of the first few efforts on Forester's part to obtain aninfraction of this rule ended in his submitting to his destiny, andsupplying by signs the want of speech; in this way he had just succeededin procuring a drink of water, when Daly entered, followed by Hickman.As with slow and noiseless steps they came forward, Forester turnedhis head, and, catching a glance of the mechanism by which old Peterregulated his progression, he burst into a fit of uncontrollablelaughter.

  "Ye mauna do it, ye mauna do it, sir," said Sandy, sternly; "ye arelying in a pool of blood this minute, and it's no time for a heartylaugh. Ech! ech! sir," continued he, turning towards his master, "if wehad that salve the Delawares used to put on their wounds, I wadna saybut we 'd stap it yet."

  By this time old Peter had laid his hand on the sick man's wrist, and,with a large watch laid before him on the bed, was counting his pulsealoud.

  "It's a hundred and fifty," said he, in a whisper, which, althoughintended for Daly's ear, was overheard by Forester; "but it's thin as athread, and looks like inward bleeding."

  "What's to be done, then? have you anything to advise?" said Daly,almost savagely.

  "Very little," said Hickman, with a malignant grin, "except writing tohis friends. I know nothing else to serve him."

  A brief shudder passed over Daly's stern features, rather like themomentary sense of cold than proceeding from any mental emotion, andthen he said, "I spoke to you as a doctor, sir; and I ask you again, isthere nothing can be done for him?"

  "Well, well, we might plug up the wound, to be sure, and give him alittle wine, for he's sinking fast. I 've got a case of instruments andsome lint in the gig--never go without the tools, Mr. Daly--there's noknowing when one may meet a little accident like this."

  "In Heaven's name, then, lose no time!" said Daly. "Whatever you can do,do it at once."

  The tone of command in which he spoke seemed to act like a charm on theold doctor, for he turned at once to hobble from the room.

  "My servant will bring what you want," said Daly, impatiently.

  "No, no," said Peter, shaking his head, "I have them under lock and keyin the driving-box; there's no one opens that but myself."

  Daly turned away with a muttered execration at the miser's suspicions,and then, fixing his eyes steadily on Sandy's face, he gave a shortand significant nod. The servant instinctively looked after the doctor;then, slowly moving across the floor, the nod was repeated, and Sandy,wheeling round, made three strides, and, catching the old man round thebody with his remaining arm, carried him out of the room with the sameindifference to his struggles or his cries as a nurse would bestow on amisbehaving urchin.

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  When Sandy deposited his burden beside the pony-carriage, old Peter'spassion had reached its climax, and assuredly, if the will could haveprompted the act, he would have stamped as roundly as he swore.

  "It's an awfu' thing," observed Sandy, quaintly, "to see an auld carle,wi' his twa legs in the grave, blaspheming that gate; but come awa',tak' your gimcracks, and let's get back again, or, by the saul of mybody, I 'll pit you in the fountain!"

  Reasoning on that excellent principle of analogy, that what had happenedmight happen again even in a worse form, old Hickman unlocked the boxand delivered into Sandy's hands a black leather case, bearing as manysigns of long years and service as his own.

  "Let me walk I let me walk!" cried he, in a supplicating tone.

  "Av you ca' it walking," said Sandy, grimly; "but it's mair, far mair,like the step o' a goose than a Christian man."

  What success might have attended Peter's request it is difficult tosay, for at this moment the noise of a horse was heard galloping up theavenue, and, immediately after, Mulville, the surgeon sent for by Mr.Daly, entered the courtyard. Without deigning a look towards Hickman,or paying even the slightest attention to his urgent demands for therestoration of his pocket-case, Sandy seized Mulville by the arm andhurried him away to the house.

  The newly arrived doctor was an army surgeon, and proceeded, with allthe readiness experience had taught him, to examine Forester's wound;while Sandy, to save time, opened old Hickman's case on the bed, andarranged the instruments.

  "Look here, Mr. Daly," said the doctor, as he drew some lint from theantiquated leather pocket,--"look here, and see how our old friendpractises the art of medicine." He took up, as he spoke, a roll ofpaper, and held it towards Daly: it was a packet of bill stamps ofvarious value, for old Peter could never suffer himself to be takenshort, and was always provided with the ready means of transacting moneyaffairs with his patients.

  "Here's my d----d old bond," said Daly, laughing, as he drew forth amuch-crumpled and time-discolored parchment; "I'd venture to say theman would deserve well of his country who would throw this confoundedpocket-book, and its whole contents, into that fire."

  "Ye maybe want some o' the tools yet," said Sandy, dryly, for, takinghis master's observations in the light of a command, he was about tocommit the case and the paper to the flames.

  "Take care! take care!" said Mulville, in a whisper; "it might be afelony."

  "It's devilish little Sandy would care what name they would give it,"replied Daly; "he 'd put the owner on the top of them, and burn alltogether, on a very brief hint;" then, lowering his voice, he added,"What's his chance?"

  "The chance of every young fellow of two or three-and-twenty to livethrough what would kill any man of my time of life. With good care andquiet, but quiet above all, he may rub through it. We must leave himnow."

  "You 'll remain here," said Daly; "you 'll not quit this, I hope?"

  "For a day or two at least, I 'll not leave him." And with thissatisfactory assurance Daly closed the door, leaving Sandy on guard overthe patient.

  "Here's your case of instruments, Hickman," said Daly, as the old doctorsat motionless in his gig, awaiting their reappearance; for, in hisdread of further violence, he had preferred thus patiently to awaittheir return, than venture once more into the company of Sandy M'Grane."We 've robbed you of nothing except some lint; and," added he in awhisper to Muiville, "I very much doubt if that case were ever openedand closed before wit
h so slight an offence against the laws ofproperty."

  Old Hickman by this time had opened the pocket-book, and was busilyengaged inspecting its contents.

  "Ay, that's the bond!" said Daly, laughing; "you may well think howsmall the chance of repayment is, when I did not think it worth whileburning it."

  "It will be paid in good time," said Hickman, in a low cackle, "and theinterest too, maybe--ay!" And with sundry admonitions from the whip, andsuccessive chucks of the rein, the old pony threw up his head, shook histail crossly, and, with a step almost as measured as that of his master,moved slowly out of the courtyard.

  "So much for our century and our civilization!" said Daly, as he lookedafter him; "the old miser that goes there has more power over ourcountry and its gentry than ever a feudal chief wielded in the days ofvassalage."