The Knight Of Gwynne, Vol. 1. Lever Charles James
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 Heffernan.
“The very man I wished to see,” cried Darcy, eagerly; “tell me all about this unfortunate business. But, first of all, is he out of danger?”
“Quite safe. I understand, for a time, it was a very doubtful thing; Daly’s surgery, it would seem, rather increased the hazard. He began searching for the ball regardless of the bleeding, and the young fellow was very near sinking under loss of blood.”
“The whole affair was his doing!” said the Knight, impatiently. “How Mr. MacDonough could have found himself at my table is more than I can well imagine; that when he got there, something like this would follow, does not surprise me. Daly is really too bad. Well, well, I hoped to have set off for the abbey to-day, but I must stay here, I find; Drogheda is kind enough to let me redeem Ballydermot, and I must see Gleeson about it. It’s rather a heavy blow just now.”
“I am afraid I am not altogether blameless,” said Heffernan, timidly. “I ought not to have mentioned that unlucky business till the game was over; but I thought your nerve was proof against anything.”
“So it was, Heffernan,” said the Knight, laughing, “some five-and-twenty years ago; but this shattered wreck has little remains of the old three-decker. I should have won that game.”
“It’s all past and over now, so never think more about it.”
“Yes, I should have won the game. Drogheda saw my advantage: he went on with the very suit in my hand, and when he reached over for his snuff-box, his hand trembled like in an ague-fit.”
“Come, don’t let the thing dwell in your mind. There is another and a heavier game to play, and you ‘re certain to win there, if you do but like it.”
“I don’t clearly understand you,” said Darcy, doubtingly.
“I’ll be explicit enough, then,” said Heffernan, taking a chair and seating himself directly in front of the Knight. “You know the position of the Government at this moment. They have secured a safe and certain majority, – the ‘Union’ is carried. When I say ‘carried,’ I mean that there is not a doubt on any reasonable mind but that the bill will pass. The lists show a majority of seven, perhaps eight, for the Ministry; and if they had but one in their favor, Pitt is determined to go through with it. Now, we all very well know how this has been done. Our people have behaved infamously, disgracefully, – there’s no mincing the matter. You heard of Fox – ?”
“No. What of him?”
“He has just accepted the escheatorship of – I forget what or where, but he vacates his seat to make room for Courtenay.”
“Sam Courtenay? – Scrub, as we used to call him?”
“Scrub, – exactly so. Well, he comes in for Roscommon, and is to have a place under the new commission of twelve hundred a year. But to go back to what I was saying: Castlereagh has bought these fellows at his price or their own; some were dear enough, some were cheap. Barton, for instance, takes it out in Castle dinners, and has sold his birthright for the Viceroy’s venison.”
“May good digestion wait on appetite!” repeated Darcy, laughing.
“Well, let’s not waste more time on them, but come to what I mean. Castlereagh wants to know how you mean to vote: some have told him you would be on his side; others, myself among the number, say the reverse. In fact, little as you may think about the matter, heavy bets are laid at this moment on the question, and – But I