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

  CHAPTER XXXI. "A LEAVE-TAKING."

  At Gwynne Abbey, time sped fast and pleasantly; each day brought its ownenjoyments, and of the Knight's guests there was not one who did not inhis heart believe that Maurice Darcy was the very happiest man in thekingdom.

  Lord Netherby, the frigid courtier, felt, for the first time, perhaps,in his life, how much cordiality can heighten the pleasures of socialintercourse, and how the courtesy of kind feeling can add to theenjoyments of refined and cultivated tastes. Lady Eleanor had lostnothing of the powers of fascination for which her youth had beencelebrated, and there was, in the very seclusion of her life, thatwhich gave the charm of novelty to her remarks on people and events. TheKnight himself, abounding in resources of every kind, was a companionthe most fastidious or exacting could not weary of; and as for Helen,her captivations were acknowledged by those who, but a week before,would not have admitted the possibility of any excellence that had notreceived the stamp of London approval.

  Crofton could never expatiate sufficiently on the delights of anestablishment which, with the best cook, the best cellar, and the beststable, called not upon him for the exercise of the small talents andpetty attentions by which his invitations to great houses were usuallypurchased; while the younger men of the party agreed in regarding theirfriend Lionel as the most to be envied of all their acquaintance.

  Happiness, perhaps, shines more brightly by reflected light; certainlyLionel Darcy never felt more disposed to be content with the world,and, although not devoid of a natural pride at exhibiting to his Englishfriends the style of his father's house and habits, yet was he far moredelighted at the praises he heard on every side of the Knight himself.Maurice Darcy possessed that rarest of all gifts, the power of beinga delightful companion to younger men, without ever detracting inthe slightest degree from the most rigid tone of good taste andgood principle. The observation may seem an illiberal one, but it isunhappily too true, that even among those who from right feeling wouldbe incapable of anything mean or sordid, there often prevails a laxityin expression and a libertinism of sentiment very far remote from theirreal opinions, and, consequently, such as flatter this tendency arefrequently the greatest favorites among them. The Knight, not less fromhigh principle than pride, rejected every such claim; his manly, joyoustemperament needed no aids to its powers of interesting and amusing;his sympathies went with young men in all their enthusiasm for sport; hegloried in the exuberance of their high spirits, and felt his own youthcome back in the eager pleasure with which he listened to their plans ofamusement.

  It may well be believed with what sorrow to each the morning dawned thatwas to be the last of their visit. These last times are sad things!They are the deaths of our affections and attachments; for assuredly thememory we retain of past pleasures is only the unreal spirit of a worldwe are to know of no more,--not alone the records of friends lost ordead, but of ourselves, such as we once were, and can never again be;of a time when hope was fed by credulity, and could not be exhausted bydisappointment. They must have had but a brief experience of life who donot see in every separation from friends the many chances against theirmeeting again, least of all, of meeting unchanged, with all around themas they parted.

  These thoughts, and others like them, weighed heavily on the hearts ofthose who now assembled for the last time beneath the roof of GwynneAbbey.

  It was in vain that Lionel suggested various schemes of pleasure for theday; the remembrance that it was the last was ever present, and whileevery moment seemed precious, there was a fidgety impatience to be aboutand stirring, mingled with a desire to loiter and linger over the spotso associated with pleasant memories.

  A boating party to Clare Island, long planned and talked over, couldfind now no advocates. All Lionel's descriptions of the shooting alongthe rocky shores of the bay were heard unheeded; every one clung to theabbey, as if to enjoy to the very last the sense of home happinessthey had known there. Even those less likely to indulge feelings ofattachment were not free from the depressing influence of a last day.Nor were these sentiments confined to the visitors only. Lady Eleanorexperienced a return of her former spirits in her intercourse with thosewhose habits and opinions all reminded her of the past, and would gladlyhave prolonged a visit so full of pleasant recollections. The requestwas, however, in vain; the Earl was to be in waiting early in thefollowing week, Lionel's leave was only regimental, and equally limited,and each of the others had engagements and projects no less fixed andimmutable.

  In little knots of two and three they spent the day wandering about fromplace to place, to take a last look of the great cliff, to visit for thelast time the little wood path, whose every turning presented some newaspect of the bay and the shore. Lord Netherby attached himself to theKnight, devoting himself with a most laudable martyrdom to a morning inthe farm-yard and the stable, where, notwithstanding all his efforts,his blunders betrayed how ill-suited were his habits to country life andits interests. He bore all, however, well and heroically, for he had anobject in view, and that, with him, was always sufficient to induceany degree of endurance. Up to this moment he had scarcely enjoyed anopportunity of conversing with the Knight on the subject of politics.The few words they had exchanged at the cover side were all that passedbetween them, and although they conveyed sentiments very remote from hisown, he did not entirely despair of gaining over one who evidently wasless actuated by party motives than impressed by the force of strongpersonal convictions.

  "Such a man will, of course," thought the Earl, "be in the ImperialParliament, and carry with him great influence on every questionconnected with Ireland; his support of the Ministry will be all the morevaluable that his reputation is intact from every stain of corruption.To withdraw him from his own country by the seductions of London lifewould not be easy, but he may be attached to England by ties still morebinding." Such were some of the reasonings which the wily peer revolvedin his mind, and to whose aid a fortunate accident had in some measurecontributed.

  "I believe I have never shown you our garden, my Lord," said the Knight,who, at last taking compassion on the suffering complaisance of theEarl, proposed this change. "The season is scarcely the most flattering,but we are early in this part of Ireland. What say you if we walkthither?"

  The plan was at once approved of, and after a short circuit through ashrubbery, they crossed a large orchard, and, ascending a gentle slope,they entered the garden, which rose in successive terraces behind theabbey, and commanded a wide prospect over the bay and the sea beyond it.Lord Netherby's admiration was not feigned, as he turned his eyes aroundand beheld the extent and beauty of that cultivated scene, which, in thebrightness of a spring morning, glittered like a gem on the mountain'sside. The taste alone was not the engrossing thought of his mind, buthe reflected on the immense expenditure such a caprice must have cost,terraced as the ground was into the very granite rock, and the earth allsupplied artificially. The very keeping these parterres in order was athing of no mean cost. Not all the terrors of his own approaching fatecould deprive Darcy of a sense of pride as he watched the expression ofthe Earl's features, surprise and wonder depicted in every lineament.

  "How extensive the park is," said the courtier, at length, half ashamed,as it seemed, of giving way to his amazement; "are those trees yonderwithin your grounds?"

  "Yes, my Lord: the wood at that point where you see the foam splashingup is our limit in that direction; on this side we stretch away somewhatfurther."

  "Whose property, then, have we yonder, where I see the village?"

  "It is all the Gwynne estate," said the Knight, with difficultyrepressing the sigh that rose as he spoke.

  "And the town?"

  "The town also. The worthy monks took a wide circuit, and, by allaccounts, did not misuse their wealth. I sadly fear, my Lord, theirsuccessors were not as blameless."

  "A noble possession, indeed!" said the Earl, half aloud, and notattending to Darcy's remark. "Are you certain, my dear Knight, that youhave made your political in
fluence at all commensurate with the amountof either your property or your talents? An English gentleman with anestate like this, and ability such as yours, might command any positionhe pleased."

  "In other words, my Lord, he might barter his independence for theexercise of a precarious power, and, in ceasing to dispense the dutiesof a landed proprietor, he might become a very considerable ingredientin a party."

  "I hope you do not deem the devoir of a country gentleman incompatiblewith the duties of a statesman?"

  "By no means; but I greatly regret the gradual desertion of socialinfluence in the search after political ascendency. I am not for theworking of a system that spoils the gentry, and yet does not make themstatesmen."

  "And yet the very essence of our Constitution is to connect the power ofGovernment with the possession of landed property."

  "And justly so, too; none other offers so little in return as a merespeculation. None is so little exposed to the casualties which affectevery other kind of wealth. The legitimate influence of the landedgentry is the safeguard of the State; but if, by the attractions ofpower, the flatteries of a Court, or the seductions of Party, youwithdraw them from the rightful sphere of its exercise, you reduce themto the level of the Borough members, without, perhaps, their technicalknowledge or professional acquirements. I am for giving them ahigher position,--the heritage of the bold barons, from whom they aredescended: but to maintain this, they must live on their own estates,dispense the influences of their wealth and their morals in their ownnative districts, be the friend of the poor man, the counsellor of themisguided, the encourager of the weak; know and be known to all around,not as the corrupt dispensers of Government patronage, but the guardiansof those whose rights are in their keeping for defence and protection.I would have them with their rightful influence in the Senate; aninfluence which should preponderate in both Houses. Their rank andeducation would be the best guarantee for the safety and wisdom oftheir counsels, their property the best surety for the permanence ofthe institutions of the State. Suddenly acquired wealth can scarcely beintrusted with political power; it lacks the element of prudent caution,by which property is maintained as well as accumulated; it wants alsothe prestige of antiquity as a claim to respect; and, legislate as youwill, men will look back as well as forward."

  Lord Netherby made no reply; he thought the Knight, perhaps, was ventinghis own regrets at the downfall of a political ascendency he wished tosee vested in men of his own station,--a position they had long enjoyed,and which, in some respects, had placed them above the law.

  "You lay more store by such ties, Knight," said the Earl, in a low,insinuating voice, "than we are accustomed to do. Blood and birth havesuffered less admixture with mere wealth here than with us."

  "Perhaps we do, my Lord," said Darcy, smiling; "it is the compensationfor our poverty. Unmixed descent is the boast of many who have retainednothing of their ancestors save the name."

  "But you yourself can scarcely be an advocate for the maintenance ofthese opinions: this spirit of clan and chieftainship is opposed, notonly to progress, but to liberty."

  "I have given the best proof of the contrary," said Darcy, laughing,"by marrying an Englishwoman,--a dereliction, I assure you, that cost memany a warm supporter in this very country."

  "Indeed! By the way, I am reminded of a subject I wished to speak ofto you, and which I have been hesitating whether I should open with mycousin Eleanor or yourself; the moment seems, however, propitious,--mayI broach it?"

  Darcy bowed courteously, and the other resumed:--

  "I will be brief, then. Young Beauclerk, a friend of your son Lionel,has been, as every one younger and older than himself must be, greatlytaken by the charms of Miss Darcy. Brief as the acquaintance here hasbeen, the poor fellow is desperately in love, and, while feeling howsuch an acknowledgment might prejudice his chance of success on so shortan intimacy, he cannot leave this without the effort to secure for hispretensions a favorable hearing hereafter. In fact, my dear Knight, hehas asked of me to be his intercessor with you,--not to receive him as ason-in-law, but to permit him to pay such attentions as, in the event ofyour daughter's acceptance, may enable him to make the offer of his handand fortune. I need not tell you that in point of position and means heis unexceptionable; a very old Baronetcy,--not one of these yesterdaycreations made up of State Physicians and Surgeons in Ordinary,--anestate of above twelve thousand a year. Such are claims to look highwith; but I confess I think he could not lay them at the feet of onemore captivating than my fair Helen."

  Darcy made no reply for several minutes; he pressed his hand across hiseyes, and turned his head away, as if to escape observation; then, withan effort that seemed to demand all his strength, he said,--

  "This is impossible, my Lord. There are reasons--there are circumstanceswhy I cannot entertain this proposition. I am not able to explain them;a few days more, and I need not trouble myself on that subject."

  The evident agitation of manner the Knight displayed astonished hiscompanion, who, while he forebore to ask more directly for its reason,yet gently hinted that the obstacles alluded to might be less stringentthan Darcy deemed them.

  Darcy shook his head mournfully, and Lord Netherby, though most anxiousto divine the secret of his thoughts, had too much breeding to continuethe subject.

  Without any abruptness, which might have left an unpleasant impressionafter it, the polished courtier once more adverted to Beauclerk, butrather in a tone of regret for the youth's own sake than with anyreference to the Knight's refusal.

  "There was a kind of selfishness in my advocacy, Knight," said he,smiling. "I was--I am--very much depressed at quitting a spot where Ihave tasted more true happiness than it has been my fortune for manyyears to know, and I wish to carry away with me the reflection thatI had left the germ of even greater happiness behind me; if Helen,however--"

  "Hush!" said Darcy; "here she comes, with her mother."

  "My dear Lady Eleanor," said Lord Netherby, "you have come to see meforget all the worldliness it has cost me a life to learn, and actuallyconfess that I cannot tear myself away from the abbey."

  "Well, my Lord," interposed Tom Nolan, who had just come up with alarge walking party, "I suppose it's only ordering away the posters, andstaying another day."

  "No, no, by Jove!" cried Crofton; "my Lord is in waiting, and I'm onduty."

  While the groups now gathered together from the different parts of thegarden, Lord Netherby joined Beauclerk, who awaited him in a distantalley, and soon after the youth was seen returning alone to the abbey.

  The time of bustle and leave-taking--that moment when many a false smileand merry speech ill conceals the secret sorrow--was come, and eachafter each spoke his farewell; and Lord Netherby, kindly pledginghimself to make Lionel's peace at the Horse Guards for an extendedabsence of some days, thus conferred upon Lady Eleanor the very greatestof favors.

  "Our next meeting is to be in London, remember," said the peer, in hisblandest accents. "I stand pledged to show my countrymen that I havenothing extenuated in speaking of Irish beauty;--nay, Helen, it is mylast time, forgive it."

  "There they go," said Darcy, as he looked after the retiring equipages."Now, Eleanor, and my dear children, come along with me into thelibrary. I have long been struggling against a secret sorrow; anothermoment would be more than I could bear."

  They turned silently towards the abbey, none daring, even by a look, tointerrogate him whose sad accents foreboded so much evil; yet as theywalked they drew closer around him, and seemed even by that gesture toshow that, come what might, they would meet their fortune boldly.

  Darcy moved on for some minutes sunk in thought; but as he ascended thewide steps of the terrace, appearing to read the motives of those whoclung so closely to his side, he smiled sadly, and said, "Ay! I knew itwell,--in weal or woe--together!"