The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1. Lever Charles James

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СКАЧАТЬ don’t you think that you and I might afford to have our actions canvassed, and yet be very little afraid of criticism?” said Darcy, proudly.

      “No, no, my dear Darcy, I really could not do this; besides, you must concede something to mortified vanity. Now, I am anxious to have my revenge.”

      “Be it so, my Lord,” said the Knight, with a sigh, and the game began.

      The looks and glances which were interchanged by those about during this brief colloquy showed how little sympathy there was felt with the generosity of either side. The bettors had set their hearts on gain, and cared little for the feelings of the players.

      “You see he was right,” whispered the red-whiskered squire to his neighbor; “my Lord has won the game in one hand.” And so it was; in less than five minutes the party was over.

      “Now for the conqueror,” cried the Knight of Gwynne, who, somewhat nettled at a success which seemed to lessen the generous character of his own proposal, dealt the cards hastily, as if anxious to conclude.

      “Now, Darcy, we have a better opportunity,” said Lord Drogheda, smiling; “what say you to draw stakes as we stand?”

      “Willingly, most willingly, my Lord. If a bad cause saps courage, I have reason to be low at heart. This foolish wager has cost me the loss of three nights’ sleep, and if you are content – ”

      “But are these gentlemen here satisfied?” said Lord Drogheda; and an almost universal cry of “No” was the reply.

      “Then if we are to play for the bystanders, my Lord, let us not delay them,” said the Knight, as he took up his cards and began to arrange them.

      “Darcy has it, by Jove! – the game is his,” was muttered from one to another in the crowd behind his chair, and the report, gaining currency, was soon circulated in the larger room without.

      “Have you anything heavy on it, Con?” said a fashionably dressed man to Heffernan, who endeavored to force his way through the crowd to where the Knight sat.

      “Look at Heffernan!” said another. “They say he never bets; but mark the excitement of his face now!”

      “What is it, Heffernan?” said the Knight, as the other leaned over his chair and tried to whisper something in his ear. “Is that a queen, my Lord? In that case I believe the game is mine. – What is it, Heffernan?” and he bent his ear to listen; then, suddenly dashing the cards upon the table, cried out, “Great Heaven! is this true? – the young fellow I met at Kilbeggan?”

      “The same,” whispered Heffernan, rapidly; “a brother officer of your son Lionel’s – a cousin of Lord Castle-reagh’s – a fine, dashing fellow, too.”

      “Where is he wounded?” asked Darcy, eagerly.

      “Finish your game – I must tell you all about it,” said Heffernan, folding up a letter which he had taken from his pocket a few minutes before.

      “Your pardon, my Lord,” said Darcy, with a look full of agitation; “I have just heard very bad news. – I play the knave.” A murmur ran through the crowd behind him.

      “You meant the king, I know, Knight,” said Lord Drogheda, restoring the card to his hand as he spoke, but a loud expression of dissatisfaction arose from those at his side.

      “You are right, my Lord, I did intend the king,” said the Knight; “but these gentlemen insist upon the knave, and, if you ‘ll permit me, I ‘ll play it.”

      The whole fortune of the game hung upon the card, and, after a brief struggle, the Knight was beaten.

      “Even so, my Lord,” said the Knight, smiling calmly, “you have beaten me against luck; Fortune will not do everything. The Roman satirist goes even further, and says she can do nothing.” He rose as he said these words, and looked around for Heffernan.

      “If you want Con Heffernan, Knight,” said one of the party, “I think he has gone down to the House.”

      “The very man,” said Darcy. “Good-night, my Lord, – good-night, gentlemen all.”

      “I did not believe that anything could shake Darcy’s nerve, but he certainly played that game ill,” said a bystander.

      “Heffernan could tell us more about it,” said another; “rely on it, Master Con and the devil knew why that knave was played.”

      CHAPTER X. AN INTRIGUE DETECTED

      Of all the evil influences which swayed the destinies of Ireland in latter days, none can compare, in extent of importance, with the fatal taste for prodigality that characterized the habits of the gentry. Reckless, wasteful extravagance, in every detail of life, suggested modes of acting and thinking at variance with all individual and, consequently, all national prosperity. Hospitality was pushed to profusion, liberality became a spendthrift habit. The good and the bad qualities of the Irish temperament alike contributed to this passion; there was the wish to please, the desire to receive courteously, and entertain with splendor within doors, and to appear with proportionate magnificence without.

      A proud sense of what they deemed befitting their station induced the gentry to vie in expenditure with the richly endowed officials of the Government, and the very thought of prudence or foresight in matters of expense would have been stigmatized as a meanness by those who believed they were sustaining the honor of their country while sapping the foundation of its prosperity.

      If we have little to plead in defence or in palliation of such habits, we can at least affirm that in many cases they were practised with a taste and elegance that shed lustre over the period. Unlike the vulgar displays of newly acquired wealth, they exhibited in a striking light the generous and high-spirited features of the native character, which deemed that nothing could be too good for the guest, nor any expenditure for his entertainment either too costly or too difficult. The fatal facility of Irish nature, and the still more ruinous influence of example, hurried men along on this road to ruin; and as political prospects grew darker, a reckless indifference to the future succeeded, in which little care was taken for the morrow, until, at last, thoughtless extravagance became a habit, and moneyed difficulties the lot of almost every family of Ireland.

      That a gentry so embarrassed, and with such prospects of ruin before them, should have been easy victims to Ministerial seduction, is far less surprising than that so many were to be seen who could prefer their integrity to the rich bribes of Government patronage; and it is a redeeming feature of the day that amid all the lavish and heedless course of prodigality and excess there were some who could face poverty with stouter hearts than they could endure the stigma of gilded corruption: nor is it the history of every Parliament that can say as much.

      Let us leave this theme, even at the hazard of being misunderstood, for the moment, by our reader, and turn to the Knight of Gwynne, who now was seated at his breakfast in a large parlor of his house in Henrietta Street. Sad and deserted as it seems now, this was in those days the choice residence of Irish aristocracy, and the names of peers and baronets on every door told of a class which, now, should be sought for in scattered fragments among the distant cities of the Continent.

      The Knight was reading the morning papers, in which, amid the fashionable news, was an account of his own wager with Lord Drogheda, when a carriage drove up hastily to the door, and, immediately after, the loud summons of a footman resounded through the street.

      While the Knight was yet wondering who this early visitor should prove, the servant announced Mr. Con СКАЧАТЬ