Volume Ii Part 26 (2/2)
I was in the street in the midst of the moving, bustling population, with all the life, din, and turmoil of a great city around me, and yet I stood confounded and overwhelmed by what I had just witnessed. ”And this,” said I, at last, ”is the way the business of the world goes on,--robbery, cheating, intimidation, and overreaching are the politenesses men reciprocate with each other!” Ah, Tom, with what scanty justice we regard our poor hard-working, half-starved, and ragged people, when men of rank, station, and refinement are such culprits as this! Nor could I help confessing that if I had pa.s.sed my life at home, in my own country, such an instance as I had just seen had, in all likelihood, never occurred to me. The truth is that there is a simplicity in the life of poor countries that almost excludes such a craft as that of a swindler. Society must be a complex and intricate machinery where _they_ are to thrive. There must be all the thousand requirements that are begotten of a pampered and luxurious civilization, and all the faults and frailties that grow out of these. Your well-bred scoundrel trades upon the follies, the weaknesses, the foibles, rather than the vices of the world, and his richest harvest lies amongst those who have ambitions above their station, and pretensions unsuited to their property,--in one word, to the ”Dodds of this world, whether they issue from Tipperary or Yorks.h.i.+re, whether their tongue betray the Celt or the Saxon!”
I grew very moral on this theme as I walked along, and actually found myself at my own door before I knew where I was. I discovered that Morris and his mother had been visiting Mrs. D. in my absence, and that the interview had pa.s.sed off satisfactorily Cary's bright and cheery looks sufficiently a.s.sured me. Perhaps she was ”not i' the vein,” or perhaps she was awed by the presence of real wealth and fortune, but I was glad to find that Mrs. D. scarcely more than alluded to the splendors of Dodsborough; nor did she bring in the M'Carthys more than four times during their stay. This is encouraging, Tom; and who knows but in time we may be able to ”lay this family,” and live without the terrors of their resurrection!
The Morrises are to dine with us, and I only trust that we shall not give them a ”taste of our quality” in high living, for I have just caught sight of a fellow with a white cap going into Mrs. D.'s dressing-room, and the preparations are evidently considerable. Here 's Mary Anne saying she has something of consequence to impart to me, and so, for the present, farewell.
The murder is out, Tom, and all the mystery of Morris's missing letter made clear. Mrs. D. received it during my illness at Genoa, and finding it to be a proposal of marriage to Cary, took it upon her to write an indignant refusal.
Mary Anne has just confessed the whole to me in strict secrecy, frankly owning that she herself was the great culprit on the occasion, and that the terms of the reply were actually dictated by her. She said that her present avowal was made less in reparation for her misconduct--which she owned to be inexcusable--than as an obligation she felt under to requite the admirable behavior of Morris, who by this time must have surmised what had occurred, and whose gentlemanlike feeling recoiled from vindicating himself at the cost of family disunion and exposure.
I tell you frankly, Tom, that Mary Anne's own candor, the honest, straightforward way in which she told me the whole incident, amply repays me for all the annoyance it occasioned. Her conduct now a.s.sures me that, notwithstanding all the corrupting influences of our life abroad, the girl's generous nature has still survived, and may yet, with good care, be trained up to high deservings. Of course she enjoined me to secrecy; but even had she not done so, I 'd have respected her confidence. I am scarcely less pleased with Morris, whose delicacy is no bad guarantee for the future; so that for once, at least, my dear Tom, you find me in good humor with all the world, nor is it my own fault if I be not oftener so! You may smile, Tom, at my self-flattery; but I repeat it. All my philosophy of life has been to submit with a good grace, and make the best of everything,--to think as well of everybody as they would permit me to do; and when, as will happen, events went cross-grain, and all fell out ”wrong,” I was quite ready to ”forget my own griefs, and be happy with _you_.” And now to dinner, Tom, where I mean to drink your health!
It is all settled; though I have no doubt, after so many ”false starts,”
you 'll still expect to hear a contradiction to this in my next letter; but you may believe me this time, Tom. Cary is to be married on Sat.u.r.day; and that you may have stronger confidence in my words, I beg to a.s.sure you that I have not bestowed on her, as her marriage portion, either imaginary estates or mock domains. She is neither to be thought an Irish princess _en retraite_, nor to be the proud possessor of the ”M'Carthy diamonds.” In a word, Tom, we have contrived, by some good luck, to conduct the whole of this negotiation without involving ourselves in a labyrinth of lies, and the consequence has been a very wide-spread happiness and contentment.
Morris improves every hour on nearer acquaintance; and even Mrs. D.
acknowledges that when ”his shyness rubs off, he 'll be downright agreeable and amusing.” Now, that same shyness is very little more than the const.i.tutional coldness of _his_ country, more palpable when contrasted with the over-warmth of _ours_. It _never does_ rub off, Tom, which, unfortunately, our cordiality occasionally does; and hence the praise bestowed on the constancy of one country, and the censure on the changeability of the other. But this is no time for such dissertations, nor is my head in a condition to follow them out.
The house is beset with milliners, jewellers, and other seductionists of the same type; and Mrs. D.'s voice is loud in the drawing-room on the merits of Brussels lace and the becomingness of rubies. Even Cary appears to have yielded somewhat to the temptation of these vanities, and gives a pa.s.sing glance at herself in the gla.s.s without any very marked disapproval. James is in ecstasies with Morris, who has confided all his horse arrangements to his especial care; and he sits in solemn conclave every morning with half a dozen stunted, knock-kneed bipeds, in earnest discussion of thorough-breds, weight-carriers, and fencers, and talks ”Bell's Life” half the day afterwards.
But, above all, Mary Anne has pleased me throughout the whole transaction. Not a shadow of jealousy, not the faintest coloring of any unworthy rivalry has interfered with her sisterly affection, and her whole heart seems devoted to Cary's happiness. Handsome as she always was, the impulse of a high motive has elevated the character of her beauty, and rendered her perfectly lovely. So Belton would seem to think also, if I were only to p.r.o.nounce from the mere expression of his face as he looks at her.
I must close this at once; there's no use in my trying to journalize any longer, for events follow too fast for recording; besides, Tom, in the midst of all my happiness there comes a dash of sadness across me that I am so soon to part with one so dear to me! The first branch that drops from the tree tells the story of the decay at the trunk; and so it is as the chairs around your health become tenantless, you are led to think of the dark winter of old age, the long night before the longer journey!
This is all selfishness, mayhap, and so no more of it. On Sat.u.r.day the wedding, Tom; the Morrises start for Rome, and the Dodds for Ireland.
Ay, my old friend, once more we shall meet, and if I know myself, not to part again till our pa.s.sports are made out for a better place. And now, my dear friend, for the last time on foreign ground,
I am yours ever affectionately,
Kenny James Dodd.
Tell Mrs. Gallagher to have fires in all the rooms, and to see that Nelligan has a look to the roof where the rain used to come in. We must try and make the old house comfortable, and if we cannot have the blue sky without, we 'll at least endeavor to secure the means of an Irish welcome within doors.
I suppose it must be a part of that perversity that pertains to human nature in everything, but now that I have determined on going home again, I fancy I can detect a hundred advantages to be derived from foreign travel and foreign residence. You will, of course, meet me by saying, ”What are your own experiences, Kenny Dodd? Do they serve to confirm this impression? Have you the evidences of such within the narrow circle of your own family?” No, Tom, I must freely own I have not But I am, perhaps, able to say why it has been so, and even that same is something.
You can scarcely take up a number of the ”Times” without reading of some newly arrived provincial in London being ”done” by sharpers, through the devices of a very stale piece of roguery; his appearance, his dress, and his general air being the signs which have proclaimed him a fit subject for deception. So it is abroad; a certain cla.s.s of travellers, the ”Dodds” for instance, ramble about Switzerland and the Rhine country, John Murray in hand, speaking unintelligible French, and poking their noses everywhere. So long as they are migratory, they form the prey of innkeepers and the harvest of _laquais de place_; but when they settle and domesticate, they become the mark for ridicule for some, and for robbery from others. If they be wealthy, much is conceded to them for their money,--that is, their house will be frequented, their dinners eaten, their b.a.l.l.s danced at; but as to any admission into ”the society”
of the place, they have no chance of it. Some Lord George of their acquaintance, cut by his equals, and shunned by his own set, will undertake to provide them guests; and so far as their own hospitalities extend, they will be ”in the world,” but not one jot further. The ill.u.s.trious company that honors your _soire_ amuses itself with racy stories of your bad French, or flippant descriptions of your wife's ”toilette;” nor is it enough that they ridicule these, but they will even make laughing matter of your homely notions of right and wrong, and scoff at what you know and feel to be the very best things in your nature. Your ”n.o.ble friend,” or somebody else's ”n.o.ble friend,” has said in public that you are ”n.o.body;” and every marquis in his garret, and every count with half the income of your cook, despises as he dines with you. And you deserve it too; richly deserve it, I say. Had you come on the Continent to be abroad what you were well contented to be at home,--had you abstained from the mockery of a cla.s.s you never belonged to,--had you settled down amidst those your equals in rank, and often much more than your equals in knowledge and acquirement,--your journey would not have been a series of disappointments. You would have seen much to delight and interest, and much to improve you. You would have educated your minds while richly enjoying yourselves; and while forming pleasant intimacies, and even friends.h.i.+ps, widened the sphere of your sympathies with mankind, and a.s.suredly have escaped no small share of the misfortunes and mishaps that befell the ”Dodd Family Abroad.”
THE END.
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