Sir Brook Fossbrooke, Volume I.. Lever Charles James
as the world goes well with them, and events turn out fortunately, are regarded simply as sharp, shrewd fellows, with a keen eye to their own interests. When, however, the weight of any misfortune comes, when the time arrives that they have to bear up against the hard pressure of life, these fellows come forth in their true colors, swindlers and cheats.
“Such was he. Finding that I was determined to settle the small fortune her father had left her inalienably on herself, he defeated me by a private marriage. He then launched out into a life of extravagance to which their means bore no proportion. I was a rich man in those days, and knew nothing better to do with my money than assist the daughter of my oldest friend. The gallant Captain did not balk my good intentions. He first accepted, he then borrowed, and last of all he forged my name. I paid the bills and saved him, not for his sake, I need not tell you, but for hers, who threw herself at my feet, and implored me not to see them ruined. Even this act of hers he turned to profit. He wrote to me to say that he knew his wife had been to my house, that he had long nurtured suspicions against me, – I that was many years older than her own father, – that for the future he desired all acquaintance should cease between us, and that I should not again cross his threshold.
“By what persuasions or by what menaces he led his wife to the step, I do not know; but she passed me when we met without a recognition. This was the hardest blow of all. I tried to write her a letter; but after a score of attempts I gave it up, and left the place.
“I never saw her for eight years. I wish I had not seen her then. I am an old, hardened man of the world, one whom life has taught all its lessons to in the sternest fashion. I have been so baffled and beaten, and thrown back by all my attempts to think well of the world, that nothing short of a dogged resolution not to desert my colors has rescued me from a cold misanthropy; and yet, till I saw, I did not believe there was a new pang of misery my heart had not tasted. What? it is incredible, – surely that is not she who once was Lucy Dillon, – that bold-faced woman with lustrous eyes and rouged cheeks, – brilliant, indeed, and beautiful, but not the beauty that is allied to the thought of virtue, – whose every look is a wile, whose every action is entanglement. She was leaning on a great man’s arm, and in the smile she gave him told me how she knew to purchase such distinctions. He noticed me, and shook my hand as I passed. I heard him tell her who I was; and I heard her say that I had been a hanger-on, a sort of dependant of her father’s, but she never liked me! I tried to laugh, but the pain was too deep. I came away, and saw her no more.”
He ceased speaking, and for some time they walked along side by side without a word. At last he broke out: “Don’t believe the people who say that men are taught by anything they experience in life. Outwardly they may affect it. They may assume this or that manner. The heart cannot play the hypocrite, and no frequency of disaster diminishes the smart. The wondrous resemblance Miss Lendrick bears to Lucy Dillon renews to my memory the bright days of her early beauty, when her poor father would call her to sit down at his feet and read to him, that he might gaze at will on her, weaving whole histories of future happiness and joy for her. ‘Is it not like sunshine in the room to see her, Brook?’ would he whisper to me. ‘I only heard her voice as she passed under my window this morning, and I forgot some dark thought that was troubling me.’ And there was no exaggeration in this. The sweet music of her tones “vibrated so softly on the ear, they soothed the sense, just as we feel soothed by the gentle ripple of a stream.
“All these times come back to me since I have been here, and I cannot tell you how the very sorrow that is associated with them has its power over me. Every one knows with what attachment the heart will cling to some little spot in a far-away land that reminds one of a loved place at home, – how we delight to bring back old memories, and how we even like to name old names, to cheat ourselves back into the past. So it is that I feel when I see this girl. The other Lucy was once as my daughter; so, too, do I regard her, and with this comes that dreadful sorrow I have told you of, giving my interest in her an intensity unspeakable. When I saw Trafford’s attention to her, the only thing I thought of was how unlike he was to him who won the other Lucy. His frank, unaffected bearing, his fine, manly trustfulness, the very opposite to the other’s qualities, made me his friend at once. When I say friend, I mean well-wisher, for my friendship now bears no other fruit. Time was when it was otherwise.”
“What is it, William?” cried the vicar, as his servant came hurriedly forward.
“There ‘s a gentleman in the drawing-room, sir, wants to see Sir Brook Fossbrooke.”
“Have I your leave?” said the old man, bowing low. “I ‘ll join you here immediately.”
Within a few moments he was back again. “It was Trafford. He has just got a telegram to call him to his regiment. He suspects something has gone wrong; and seeing his agitation, I offered to go back with him. We start within an hour.”
CHAPTER X. LENDRICK RECOUNTS HIS VISIT TO TOWN
The vicar having some business to transact in Limerick, agreed to go that far with Sir Brook and Trafford, and accompanied them to the railroad to see them off.
A down train from Dublin arrived as they were waiting, and a passenger, descending, hastily hurried after the vicar, and seized his hand. The vicar, in evident delight, forgot his other friends for a moment, and became deeply interested in the new-comer. “We must say good-bye, doctor,” said Fossbrooke; “here comes our train.”
“A thousand pardons, my dear Sir Brook. The unlooked-for arrival of my friend here – but I believe you don’t know him. Lendrick, come here, I want to present you to Sir Brook Fossbrooke. Captain Trafford, Dr. Lendrick.”
“I hope these gentlemen are not departing,” said Lendrick, with the constraint of a bashful man.
“It is our misfortune to do so,” said Sir Brook; “but I have passed too many happy hours in this neighborhood not to come back to it as soon as I can.”
“I hope we shall see you. I hope I may have an opportunity of thanking you, Sir Brook.”
“Dublin! Dublin! Dublin! get in, gentlemen: first class, this way, sir,” screamed a guard, amidst a thundering rumble, a scream, and a hiss. All other words were drowned, and with a cordial shake-hands the new friends parted.
“Is the younger man his son?” asked Lendrick; “I did not catch the name?”
“No; he’s Trafford, a son of Sir Hugh Trafford, – a Lincolnshire man, isn’t he?”
“I don’t know. It was of the other I was thinking. I felt it so strange to see a man of whom when a boy I used to hear so much. I have an old print somewhere of two over-dressed ‘Bloods,’ as they were called in those days, with immense whiskers, styled ‘Fossy and Fussy,’ meaning Sir Brook and the Baron Geramb, a German friend and follower of the Prince.”
“I suspect a good deal changed since that day, in person as well as purse,” said the vicar, sadly.
“Indeed! I heard of his having inherited some immense fortune.”
“So he did, and squandered every shilling of it.”
“And the chicks are well, you tell me?” said Lendrick, whose voice softened as he talked of home and his children.
“Could n’t be better. We had a little picnic on Holy Island yesterday, and only wanted yourself to have been perfectly happy. Lucy was for refusing at first.”
“Why so?”
“Some notion she had that you would n’t like it. Some idea about not doing in your absence anything that was not usual when you are here.”
“She is such a true girl, so loyal,” said Lendrick, proudly.
“Well, I take the treason on my shoulders. I made her come. It was a delightful day, and we drank your health in as good a glass of Madeira as ever ripened in the sun. Now for your own news?”
“First let us get on the road. I am impatient to be back at home again. Have you your car here?”
“All is ready, and waiting for you at the gate.”
As they drove briskly along, Lendrick gave the vicar