Part 22 (1/2)

'But, if he does not live amongst you himself, has not he some under-agent, who lives in the country?' said Lord Colambre.

'He has so.'

'And he should know your concerns: does he mind them?'

'He should know--he should know better; but as to minding our concerns, your honour knows,' continued she, smiling again, 'every one in this world must mind their own concerns; and it would be a good world, if it was even so. There's a great deal in all things, that don't appear at first sight. Mr. Dennis wanted Grace for a wife for his bailiff; but she would not have him; and Mr. Dennis was very sweet to her himself--but Grace is rather high with him as proper, and he has a grudge AGAIN' us ever since. Yet, indeed, there,' added she, after another pause, 'as you say, I think we are safe; for we have that memorandum in writing, with a pencil, given under his own hand, on the back of the LASE, to me, by the same token when my good lord had his foot on the step of the coach, going away; and I'll never forget the smile of her that got that good turn done for me, Miss Grace. And just when she was going to England and London, and, young as she was, to have the thought to stop and turn to the likes of me! Oh, then, if you could see her, and know her, as I did!

THAT was the comforting angel upon earth--look and voice, and heart and all! Oh, that she was here present, this minute!--But did you scald yourself?' said the widow to Lord Colambre. 'Sure you must have scalded yourself; for you poured the kettle straight over your hand, and it boiling!--O DEEAR! to think of so young a gentleman's hand shaking so like my own.

Luckily, to prevent her pursuing her observations from the hand to the face, which might have betrayed more than Lord Colambre wished she should know, her own Grace came in at this instant.

'There it's for you, safe, mother dear--the LASE!' said Grace, throwing a packet into her lap. The old woman lifted up her hands to heaven, with the lease between them.--'Thanks be to Heaven!' Grace pa.s.sed on, and sunk down on the first seat she could reach. Her face flushed, and, looking much fatigued, she loosened the strings of her bonnet and cloak--'Then, I'm tired;' but, recollecting herself, she rose, and curtsied to the gentleman.

'What tired ye, dear?'

'Why, after prayers, we had to go--for the agent was not at prayers, nor at home for us, when we called--we had to go all the way up to the castle; and there, by great good luck, we found Mr. Nick Garraghty himself, come from Dublin, and the LASE in his hands; and he sealed it up that way, and handed it to me very civil. I never saw him so good--though he offered me a gla.s.s of spirits, which was not manners to a decent young woman, in a morning--as Brian noticed after. Brian would not take any either, nor never does. We met Mr. Dennis and the driver coming home; and he says, the rent must be paid to-morrow, or, instead of renewing, he'll seize and sell all. Mother dear, I would have dropped with the walk, but for Brian's arm.'--'It's a wonder, dear, what makes you so weak, that used to be so strong,'--'But if we can sell the cow for anything at all to Mr. Dennis, since his eye is set upon her, better let him have her, mother dear; and that and my yarn, which Mrs.

Garraghty says she'll allow me for, will make up the rent--and Brian need not talk of America. But it must be in golden guineas, the agent will take the rent no other way; and you won't get a guinea for less than five s.h.i.+llings. Well, even so, it's easy selling my new gown to one that covets it, and that will give me in exchange the price of the gold; or, suppose that would not do, add this cloak,--it's handsome, and I know a friend would be glad to take it, and I'd part it as ready as look at it--Any-thing at all, sure, rather than that he should be forced to talk of emigrating; or, oh, worse again, listing for the bounty--to save us from the cant or the jail, by going to the hospital, or his grave, maybe--Oh, mother!'

'Oh, child! This is what makes you weak, fretting. Don't be that way.

Sure here's the LASE, and that's good comfort; and the soldiers will be gone out of Clonbrony to-morrow, and then that's off your mind. And as to America, it's only talk--I won't let him, he's dutiful; and would sooner sell my dresser and down to my bed, dear, than see you sell anything of yours, love. Promise me you won't. Why didn't Brian come home all the way with you, Grace?'

'He would have seen me home,' said Grace,' only that he went up a piece of the mountain for some stones or ore for the gentleman--for he had the manners to think of him this morning, though, shame for me, I had not, when I come in, or I would not have told you all this, and he himself by. See, there he is, mother.'

Brian came in very hot, out of breath, with his hat full of stones.

'Good morrow to your honour. I was in bed last night; and sorry they did not call me up to be of SARVICE. Larry was telling us, this morning, your honour's from Wales, and looking for mines in Ireland, and I heard talk that there was one on our mountain--maybe, you'd be CUROUS to see, and so I brought the best I could, but I'm no judge.'

'Nor I, neither,' thought Lord Colambre; but he thanked the young man, and determined to avail himself of Larry's misconception or false report; examined the stones very gravely, and said, 'This promises well.

Lapis caliminaris, schist, plum-pudding stone, rhomboidal, crystal, blend, garrawachy,' and all the strange names he could think of, jumbling them together at a venture.

'The LASE!--Is it?' cried the young man, with joy sparkling in his eyes, as his mother held up the packet. 'Then all's safe! and he's an honest man, and shame on me, that could suspect he meant us wrong. Lend me the papers.'

He cracked the seals, and taking off the cover,--'It's the LASE, sure enough. Shame on me!--But stay, where's the memorandum?'

'It's there, sure,' said his mother, 'where my lord's pencil writ it. I don't read.--Grace, dear, look.'

The young man put it into her hands, and stood without power to utter a syllable.

'It's not here! It's gone!--no sign of it.'

'Gracious Heaven! that can't be,' said the old woman, putting on her spectacles; 'let me see--I remember the very spot.'

'It's taken away--it's rubbed clean out!--Oh, wasn't I fool? But who could have thought he'd be the villain!' The young man seemed neither to see nor hear; but to be absorbed in thought.

Grace, with her eyes fixed upon him, grew as pale as death--'He'll go--he's gone.'

'She's gone!' cried Lord Colambre, and the mother just caught her in her arms as she was falling.

'The chaise is ready, PLASE your honour,' said Larry, coming into the room. 'Death! what's here?'