Davenport Dunn, a Man of Our Day. Volume 1. Lever Charles James
than health, and fancying that they were acquiring habits and manners that would serve them through their winter’s campaign.
The first figure which emerged upon the plateau was that of a man swathed in great-coat, cap, and worsted wrappers, that it was difficult to guess what he could be. He came forward at a shambling trot, and was about to pass on without looking aside, when Lord Lackington called out, “Ah! Spicer, have you got off that eleven pounds yet?” “No, my Lord, but very near it. I’m seven stone ten, and at seven eight I’m all right.”
“Push along, then, and don’t lose your training,’ said his Lordship, dismissing him with a bland wave of the hand. And the other made an attempt at a salutation, and passed on.
“Madame la Marquise, your servant. You ascend these mountain steeps like a chamois!”
This compliment was addressed to a little, very fat old lady, who came snorting along like a grampus.
“Benedetto Dottore!” cried she. “He will have it that I must go up to the stone cross yonder every morning before breakfast, and I know I shall burst a blood-vessel yet in the attempt.”
A chair, with a mass of horse-clothing and furs, surmounted by a little yellow wizened face, was next borne by, to which Lord Lackington bowed courteously, saying, “Your Excellency improves at every hour.”
His Excellency gave a brief nod and a little faint smile, swallowed a mouthful from a silver flask presented by his servant, and disappeared.
“Ah! the fair syren sisters! what a charming vision!” said his Lordship, as two bright-cheeked, laughing-eyed girls bounced upon the terrace in all the high-hearted enjoyment of good health and good spirits.
“Molly, for shame!” cried what seemed the elder, a damsel of about nineteen, as the younger, holding out her dress with both hands, performed a kind of minuet curtsey to the Viscount, to which he responded with a bow that might have done credit to Versailles.
“Perfectly done – grace and elegance itself. The foot a little – a very little more in advance.”
“Just because you want to look at it,” cried she, laughing. “Molly, Molly!” exclaimed the other, rebukingly. “Let him deny it if he can, Lucy,” retorted she. “But here’s papa.”
And as she spoke, a square-built, short, florid man, fanning his bald head with a straw hat, puffed his way forward.
“My Lord, I’m your most obaydient!” said he, with a very unmistakably Irish enunciation. “O’Reilly, I’m delighted to see you. These charming girls of yours have just put me in good humour with the whole creation. What a lovely spot this is; how beautiful!”
Though his Lordship’s arm and outstretched hand directed attention to the scenery, his eyes never wandered from the pretty features of the laughing girl beside him.
“It’s like Banthry!” said Mr. O’Reilly – “it’s the very ditto of Banthry.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed my Lord, still pursuing his scrutiny.
“Only Banthry’s bigger and wider. Indeed, I may say finer.”
“Nothing, in my estimation, can exceed this!” said his Lordship, with a distinctive smile, addressed to the young lady.
“I’m glad you think so,” said she, with a merry laugh. And then, with a pirouette, she sprang up the steep steps on the rocky path before her, and disappeared, her sister as quickly following, leaving Mr. O’Reilly alone with his Lordship.
“What heaps of money she laid out here,” exclaimed O’Reilly, as he looked at the labyrinth of mad ruins, and rustic bridges, and hanging gardens on every side of him.
“Large sums – very large indeed!” said my Lord, whose thoughts were evidently on some other track.
“Pure waste – nothing else; the place never could pay. Vines and fig-trees, indeed – I’d rather see a crop of oats.”.
“I have a weakness for the picturesque, I must own,” said my Lord, as his eye still followed the retreating figures of the girls.
“Well, I like a waterfall; and, indeed, I like a summer-house myself,” said O’Reilly, as though confessing to a similar trait on his own part.
“This is the first time you have been abroad, O’Reilly?” said his Lordship, to turn the subject of the conversation.
“Yes, my Lord, my first, and, with God’s blessing, my last, too! When I lost Mrs. O’Reilly, two years ago, of a complaint that beat all the doctors – ”
“Ah, yes, you mentioned that to me; very singular indeed!”
“For it wasn’t in the heart itself, my Lord, but in the bag that houlds it.”
“Oh yes, I remember the explanation perfectly; so you thought you’d just come abroad for a little distraction.”
“Distraction indeed! ‘tis the very word for it,” broke in Mr. O’Reilly, eagerly. “My head is bewildered between the lingo and the money, and they keep telling me, ‘You’ll get used to it, papa, darling – you’ll be quite at home yet.’ But how is that ever possible?”
“Still, for your charming girls’ sake,” said my Lord, caressing his whiskers and adjusting his neckcloth, as if for immediate captivation – “or their sake, O’Reilly, you’ve done perfectly right!”
“Well, I’m glad your Lordship says so. ‘Tis nobody ought to know better!” said he, with a heavy sigh.
“They really deserve every cultivation. All the advantages that – that – that sort of thing can bestow!”
And his Lordship smiled benignly, as though offering his own aid to the educational system.
“What they said to me was this,” said O’Reilly, dropping his voice to a tone of the most confiding secrecy: “‘Don’t be keeping them down here in Mary’s Abbey, but take them where they’ll see life. You can give them forty thousand pounds between them, Tim O’Reilly, and with that and their own good looks – ’”
“Beauty, O’Reilly – downright loveliness,” broke in my Lord.
“Well, indeed, they are handsome,” said O’Reilly, with an honest satisfaction, “and that’s exactly why I thought the advice was good. ‘Take them abroad,’ they said; ‘take them into Germany and Italy – but more especially Italy’ – for they say there’s nothing like Italy for finishing young ladies.”
“That is certainly the general impression!” said his Lordship with the barest imaginable motion of his nether lip.
“And here we are, but where we’re going afterwards, and what well do when we’re there, that thief of a Courier we have may know, but I don’t.”
“So that you gave up business, O’Reilly, and resigned yourself freely to a life of ease,” said my Lord, with a smile that seemed to approve the project.
“Yes, indeed, my Lord; but whether it’s to be a life of pleasure, I don’t know. I was in the provision trade thirty-eight years, and do you know I miss the pigs greatly.”
“Every man has a hankering of that sort. Old cosmopolite as I am, I have every now and then my longing for that window at Brookes’s, and that snug dinner-room at Boodle’s.”
“Yes, my Lord,” said O’Reilly, who hadn’t the faintest conception whether these localities were not situated in China.
“Ah, Twining, never thought to see you here,” called out his Lordship to a singularly tall man, who came forward with such awkward contortions of legs and arms, as actually to suggest the notion that he was struggling against somebody. Mr. O’Reilly modestly stole away while the friends were shaking hands, and we take the same opportunity to, present the new arrival to our reader.
Mr. Adderley Twining was a gentleman of good family and very large fortune, whose especial pleasure it was to pass off to the world for a gay, light-hearted, careless creature, of small means, and most lavish