The Knight Of Gwynne.
Vol. II.
by Charles James Lever.
CHAPTER I. SOME CHARACTERS NEW TO THE KNIGHT AND THE READER
Soon after breakfast the following morning the Knight set out to pay his promised visit to Miss Daly, who had taken up her abode at a little village on the coast, about three miles distant. Had Darcy known that her removal thither had been in consequence of his own arrival at "The Corvy," the fact would have greatly added to an embarra.s.sment sufficiently great on other grounds. Of this, however, he was not aware; her brother Bagenal accounting for her not inhabiting "The Corvy" as being lonely and desolate, whereas the village of Ballintray was, after its fashion, a little watering-place much frequented in the season by visitors from Coleraine, and other towns still more inland.
Thither now the Knight bent his steps by a little footpath across the fields which, from time to time, approached the seaside, and wound again through the gently undulating surface of that ever-changing tract.
Not a human habitation was in sight; not a living thing was seen to move over that wide expanse; it was solitude the very deepest, and well suited the habit of his mind who now wandered there alone. Deeply lost in thought, he moved onward, his arms folded on his breast, and his eyes downcast; he neither bestowed a glance upon the gloomy desolation of the land prospect, nor one look of admiring wonder at the giant cliffs, which, straight as a wall, formed the barriers against the ocean.
"What a strange turn of fortune!" said he, at length, as relieving his overburdened brain by speech. "I remember well the last day I ever saw her; it was just before my departure for England for my marriage. I remember well driving over to Castle Daly to say good-bye! Perhaps, too, I had some lurking vanity in exhibiting that splendid team of four grays, with two outriders. How perfect it all was! and a proud fellow I was that day! Maria was looking very handsome; she was dressed for riding, but ordered the horses back as I drove up. What spirits she had!--with what zest she seized upon the enjoyments her youth, her beauty, and her fortune gave her!--how ardently she indulged every costly caprice and every whim, as if revelling in the pleasure of extravagance even for its own sake! Fearless in everything, she did indeed seem like a native princess, surrounded by all that barbaric splendor of her father"s house, the troops of servants, the equipages without number, the guests that came and went unceasingly, all rendering homage to her beauty. "T was a gorgeous dream of life, and well she understood how to realize all its enchantment. We scarcely parted good friends on that same last day," said he, after a pause; "her manner was almost mordant. I can recall the cutting sarcasms she dealt around her,--strange exuberance of high spirits carried away to the wildest flights of fancy; and after all, when, having dropped my glove, I returned to the luncheon-room to seek it, I saw her in a window, bathed in tears; she did not perceive me, and we never met after. Poor girl!
were those outpourings of sorrow the compensation nature exacted for the exercise of such brilliant powers of wit and imagination? or had she really, as some believed, a secret attachment somewhere? Who knows? And now we are to meet again, after years of absence,--so fallen too! If it were not for these gray hairs and this wrinkled brow, I could believe it all a dream;--and what is it but a dream, if we are not fashioned to act differently because of our calamities? Events are but shadows if they move us not."
From thoughts like these he pa.s.sed on to others,--as to how he should be received, and what changes time might have wrought in her.
"She was so lovely, and might have been so much more so, had she but curbed that ever-rising spirit of mockery that made the sparkling l.u.s.tre of her eyes seem like the scathing flash of lightning rather than the soft beam of tranquil beauty. How we quarrelled and made up again! what everlasting treaties ratified and broken! and now to look back on this with a heart and a spirit weary, how sad it seems! Poor Maria! her destiny has been less happy than mine. She is alone in the world; I have affectionate hearts around me to make a home beneath the humble roof of a cabin."
The Knight was aroused from his musings by suddenly finding himself on the brow of a hill, from which the gorge descended abruptly into a little cove, around which the village of Ballintray was built. A row of whitewashed cottages, in winter inhabited by the fishermen and their families, became in the summer season the residence of the visitors, many of whom deserted s.p.a.cious and well-furnished mansions to pa.s.s their days in the squalid discomfort of a cabin. If beauty of situation and picturesque charms of scenery could ever atone for so many inconveniences incurred, this little village might certainly have done so. Landlocked by two jutting promontories, the bay was sheltered both east and westward, while the rising ground behind defended it from the sweeping storms which the south brings in its seasons of rain; in front the distant island of Isla could be seen, and the Scottish coast was always discernible in the clear atmosphere of the evening.
While Darcy stood admiring the well-chosen spot, his eye rested upon a semicircular panel of wood, which, covering over a short and gravelled avenue, displayed in very striking capitals the words "Fumbally"s Boarding-House." The edifice itself, more pretentious in extent and character than the cabins around, was ornamented with green jalousies to the windows, and a dazzling bra.s.s knocker surmounting a plate of the same metal, whereupon the name "Mrs. Jones Fumbally" was legible, even from the road. Some efforts at planting had been made in the two square plots of yellowish gra.s.s in front, but they had been lamentable failures; and, as if to show that the demerit was of the soil and not of the proprietors, the dead shrubs were suffered to stand where they had been stuck down, while, in default of leaves or buds, they put forth a plentiful covering of stockings, nightcaps, and other wearables, which flaunted as gayly in the breeze as the owners were doing on the beach.
Across the high-road and on the beach, which was scarcely more than fifty yards distant, stood a large wooden edifice on wheels, whose make suggested some secret of its original destination, had not that fact been otherwise revealed, since, from beneath the significant name of "Fumbally," an acute decipherer might read the still unerased inscription of "A Panther with only two spots from the head to the tail," an unhappy collocation which fixed upon the estimable lady the epithet of the animal in question.
Various garden-seats and rustic benches were scattered about, some of which were occupied by lounging figures of gentlemen, in costumes ingeniously a cross between the sporting world and the naval service; while the ladies displayed a no less elegant neglige, half sea-nymph, half shepherdess.
So much for the prospect landward, while towards the waves themselves there was a party of bathers, whose flowing hair and lengthened drapery indicated their s.e.x. These maintained through all their sprightly gambols an animated conversation with a party of gentlemen on the rocks, who seemed, by the telescopes and spy-gla.s.ses which lay around them, to be equally prepared for the inspection of near and distant objects, and alternately turned from the criticism of a fair naiad beneath to a Scotch collier working "north about" in the distance.
Darcy could not help feeling that if the c.o.c.kneyism of a boarding-house and the blinds and the bra.s.s knocker were sadly repugnant to the sense of admiration the scene itself would excite, there was an ample compensation in the primitive simplicity of the worthy inhabitants, who seemed to revel in all the unsuspecting freedom of our first parents themselves; for while some stood on little promontories of the rocks in most Canova-like drapery, little frescos of naked children flitted around and about, without concern to themselves or astonishment to the beholders.
Never was the good Knight more convinced of his own prudence in paying his first visit alone, and he stood for some time in patient admiration of the scene, until his eye rested on a figure who, seated at some distance off on a little eminence of the rocky coast, was as coolly surveying Darcy through his telescope. The mutual inspection continued for several minutes, when the stranger, deliberately shutting up his gla.s.s, advanced towards the Knight.
The gentleman was short, but stoutly knit, with a walk and a carriage of his head that, to Darcy"s observant eye, bespoke an innate sense of self-importance; his dress was a greatcoat, cut jockey fashion, and ornamented with very large b.u.t.tons, displaying heads of stags, foxes, and badgers, and other emblems of the chase, short Russia duck trousers, a wide-leaved straw hat, and a very loose cravat, knotted sailor-fashion on his breast. As he approached the Knight, he came to a full stop about half a dozen paces in front, and putting his hand to his hat, held it straight above his head, pretty much in the way stage imitators of Napoleon were wont to perform the salutation.
"A stranger, sir, I presume?" said he, with an insinuating smile and an air of dignity at the same moment. Darcy bowed a courteous a.s.sent, and the other went on: "Sweet scene, sir,--lovely nature,--animated and grand."
"Most impressive, I confess," said Darcy, with difficulty repressing a smile.
"Never here before, I take it?"
"Never, sir."
"Came from Coleraine, possibly? Walked all the way, eh?"
"I came on foot, as you have divined," said Darcy, dryly.
"Not going to make any stay, probably; a mere glance, and go on again.
Is n"t that so?"
"I believe you are quite correct; but may I, in return for your considerate inquiries, ask one question on my own part? You are, perhaps, sufficiently acquainted with the locality to inform me if a Miss Daly resides in this village, and where."
"Miss Daly, sir, did inhabit that cottage yonder, where you see the oars on the thatch, but it has been let to the Moors of Ballymena; they pay two-ten a week for the three rooms and the use of the kitchen; smart that, ain"t it?"
"And Miss Daly resides at present--"
"She "s one of us," said the little man, with a significant jerk of his thumb to the blue board with the gilt letters; "not much of that, after all; but she lives under the sway of "Mother Fum," though, from one caprice or another, she don"t mix with the other boarders. Do you know her yourself?"
"I had that honor some years ago."
"Much altered, I take it, since that; down in the world too! She was an heiress in those days, I "ve heard, and a beauty. Has some of the good looks still, but lost all the shiners."
"Am I likely to find her at home at this hour?" said Darcy, moving away, and anxious for an opportunity to escape his communicative friend.
"No, not now; never shows in the morning. Just comes down to dinner, and disappears again. Never takes a hand at whist--penny points tell up, you know--seem a trifle at first, but hang me if they don"t make a figure in the budget afterwards. There, do you see that fat lady with the black bathing-cap?--no, I mean the one with the blue baize patched on the shoulder, the Widow Mackie,--she makes a nice thing of it,--won twelve and fourpence since the first of the month. Pretty creature that yonder, with one stocking on,--Miss Boyle, of Carrick-maclash."
"I must own," said Darcy, dryly, "that, not having the privilege of knowing these ladies, I do not conceive myself at liberty to regard them with due attention."
"Oh! they never mind that here; no secrets among us."
"Very primitive, and doubtless very delightful; but I have trespa.s.sed too long on your politeness. Permit me to wish you a very good morning."
"Not at all; having nothing in the world to do. Paul Dempsey--that"s my name--was always an idle man; Paul Dempsey, sir, nephew of old Paul Dempsey, of Dempsey Grove, in the county of Kilkenny; a snug place, that I wish the proprietor felt he had enjoyed sufficiently long. And your name, if I might make bold, is--"
"I call myself Gwynne," said Darcy, after a slight hesitation.
"Gwynne--Gwynne--there was a Gwynne, a tailor, in Ballyragget; a connection, probably?"
"I "m not aware of any relationship," said Darcy, smiling.
"I "m glad of it; I owe your brother or your cousin there--that is, if he was either--a sum of seven-and-nine for these ducks. There are Gwynnes in Ross besides, and Quins; are you sure it is not Quin? Very common name Quin."
[Ill.u.s.tration: 024]
"I believe we spell our name as I have p.r.o.nounced it." "Well, if you come to spend a little time here, I "ll give you a hint or two. Don"t join Leonard--that blue-nosed fellow, yonder, in whiskey. He "ll be asking you, but don"t--at it all day." Here Mr. Dempsey pantomimed the action of tossing off a dram. "No whist with the widow; if you were younger, I "d say no small plays with Bess Boyle,--has a brother in the Antrim militia, a very quarrelsome fellow."
"I thank you sincerely for your kind counsel, although not destined to profit by it. I have one favor to ask: could you procure me the means to enclose my card for Miss Daly, as I must relinquish the hope of seeing her on this occasion?"
"No, no,--stop and dine. Capital cod and oysters,--always good. The mutton _rayther_ scraggy, but with a good will and good teeth manageable enough; and excellent malt-"
"I thank you for your hospitable proposal, but cannot accept it."
"Well, I "ll take care of your card; you "ll probably come over again soon. You "re at M"Grotty"s, ain"t you?"
"Not at present; and as to the card, with your permission I"ll enclose it." This Darcy was obliged to insist upon; as, if he left his name as Gwynne, Miss Daly might have failed to recognize him, while he desired to avoid being known as Mr. Darcy.
"Well, come in here; I "ll find you the requisites. But I wish you "d stop and see the "Panther.""