Sir Jasper Carew: His Life and Experience. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ not without astonishment Dan saw that the breakfast-table was spread in the same little garden-room which my father always used in his bachelor days, and, still more, that only two places were laid.

      “You are wondering, where’s my wife, Dan. She never breakfasts with me; nor indeed, do we see each other till late in the afternoon, – a custom, I will own, that I used to rebel against at first, but I ‘m getting more accustomed to it now. And, after all, Dan, it would be a great sacrifice of all her comfort should I insist on a change; so I put up with it as best I can.”

      “Perhaps she ‘ll see herself, in time, that these are not the habits here.”

      “Perhaps so,” said my father; “but usually French people think their own ways the rule, and all others the exception. I suppose you were surprised at my marriage, Dan.”

      “Faith, I was, I own to you. I thought you one of those inveterate Irishers that could n’t think of anything but Celtic blood. You remember, when we were boys, how we used to rave on that theme.”

      “Very true. Like all the grafts, we deemed ourselves purer than the ancient stock; but no man ever knows when, where, or whom he’ll marry. It’s all nonsense planning and speculating about it. You might as well look out for a soft spot to fall in a steeplechase. You come smash down in the very middle of your speculations. I ‘m sure, as for me, I never dreamed of a wife till I found that I had one.”

      “I know so well how it all happened,” cried Dan, laughing. “You got up one of those delightful intimacies – that pleasant, familiar kind of half-at-homishness that throws a man always off his guard, and leaves him open to every assault of female fascination, just when he fancies that he is the delight of the whole circle. Egad, I’ve had at least half-a-dozen such, and must have been married at least as many times, if somebody hadn’t discovered, in the mean while, that I was ruined.”

      “So that you never fell in love in your prosperous days, Dan?”

      “Who does – who ever did? The minor that wrote sonnets has only to come of age, and feel that he can indite a check, to be cured of his love fever. Love is a passion most intimately connected with laziness and little money. Give a fellow seven or eight thousand a-year, good health and good spirits, and I ‘ll back him to do every other folly in Christendom before he thinks of marriage.”

      “From all of which I am to conclude that you set down this act of mine either as a proof of a weak mind or a failing exchequer,” said my father.

      “Not in your case,” said he, more slowly, and with a greater air of reflection. “You had always a dash of ambition about you; and the chances are that you set your affections on one that you half despaired of obtaining, or had really no pretentions to look for. I see I ‘m right, Walter,” said he, as my father fidgeted, and looked confused. “I could have wagered a thousand on it, if I had as much. You entered for the royal plate, and, by Jove! I believe you were right.”

      “You have not made so bad a guess of it, Dan; but what say the rest? What’s the town gossip?”

      “Do you not know Dublin as well or better than I do? Can’t you frame to a very letter every syllable that has been uttered on the subject? or need I describe to you my Lady Kilfoyle’s fan-shaking horror as she tells of ‘that poor dear Carew, and his unfortunate marriage with Heaven knows whom!’ Nor Bob French’s astonishment that you, of all men, should marry out of your sphere, – or, as he calls it, your ‘spire.’ Nor how graphically Mrs. Stapleton Harris narrates the manner of your entanglement: how you fought two brothers, and only gave in to the superior force of an outraged mamma and the tears of your victim! Nor fifty other similar stories, in which you figured alternately as the dupe or the deceived, – the only point of agreement being a universal reprobation of one who, with all his pretentions to patriotism, should have entirely forgotten the claims of Irish manufacture.”

      “And are they all so severe, – so unjust?”

      “Very nearly. The only really warm defender I ‘ve heard of you, was one from whom you probably least expected it.”

      “And who might that be?”

      “Can’t you guess, Watty?”

      “Harry Blake – Redmond – George Macartney?”

      “Confound it, you don’t think I mean a man!”

      “A woman, – who could she be? Not Sally Talbot; not Lady Jane Rivers; not – ”

      “Kitty Dwyer; and I think you might have guessed her before, Watty! It is rather late, to be sure, to think of it; but my belief is that you ought to have married that girl.”

      “She refused me, Dan. She refused me,” said my father, growing red, between shame and a sense of irritation.

      “There ‘s a way of asking that secures a refusal, Watty. Don’t tell me Kitty was not fond of you. I ought to know, for she told me so herself.”

      “She told you so,” cried my father, slowly.

      “Ay, did she. It was in the summer-house, down yonder. You remember the day you gave a great picnic to the Carbiniers; they were ordered off to India, and you asked them out here to a farewell breakfast. Well, I did n’t know then how badly matters were with me. I thought at least that I could scrape together some thirteen or fourteen hundreds a year; and I thought, too, that I had a knowledge of the world that was worth as much more, and that Kitty Dwyer was just the girl that suited me. She was never out of humor, could ride anything that ever was backed, did n’t care what she wore, never known to be sick, sulky, nor sorry for anything; and after a country dance that lasted two hours, and almost killed everybody but ourselves, I took her a walk round the gardens, and seated her in the summer-house there. I need n’t tell all I said,” continued he, with a sigh. “I believe I could n’t have pleaded harder for my life, if it was at stake; but she stopped me short, and, squeezing my hand between both of hers, said: ‘No, Dan, this cannot be, and you are too generous to ask me why.’ But I was not! I pressed her all the more; and at last – not without seeing a tear in her eye, too – I got at her secret, and heard her say your name. I swore by every saint we could either of us remember, never to tell this to man or mortal living; and I suppose, in strict fact, I ought n’t to do so now; but, of course, it ‘s the same thing as if you were dead, and you, I well know, will never breathe it again.”

      “Never!” said my father, and sat with his head on his hand, unable to utter a word more.

      “Poor Kitty!” said Dan, with a heavy sigh, while he balanced his spoon on the edge of his teacup. “I half suspect she is the only one in the world that you ever seriously wronged, and yet she is the very first to uphold you.”

      “But you are unjust, Dan, – most unjust,” cried my father, warmly. “There was a kind of flirtation between us – I don’t deny it, – but nothing more than is always going forward in this free-and-easy land of ours, where people play with their feelings as they do with their fortunes, and are quite astonished to discover, some fine morning, that they have fairly run through both one and the other. I liked her, and she perhaps liked me, somewhat better than any one else that she met as often. We got to become very intimate; to feel that in the disposal of our leisure hours – which meant the livelong day – we were excessively necessary to each other; in fact, that if our minds were not quite alike, our tastes were. Of course, before one gets that far, one’s friends, as they call themselves, have gone far beyond it. There’s no need of wearying you with detail. Somebody, I ‘m sure I forget who it was, now took occasion to tell me that I was behaving ill to Kitty; that unless I really intended seriously, – that’s the paraphrase for marriage, – СКАЧАТЬ