Part 36 (1/2)

At length, in a very narrow lane, going up a hill, said to be two miles of ascent, they overtook a heavy laden waggon, and they were obliged to go step by step behind it, whilst, enjoying the gentleman's impatience much, and the postillion's sulkiness more, the waggoner, in his embroidered frock, walked in state, with his long sceptre in his hand.

The postillion muttered 'curses not loud, but deep.' Deep or loud, no purpose would they have answered; the waggoner's temper was proof against curse in or out of the English language; and from their snail's pace neither d.i.c.kENS nor devil, nor any postillion in England, could make him put his horses. Lord Colambre jumped out of the chaise, and, walking beside him, began to talk to him; and spoke of his horses, their bells, their trappings; the beauty and strength of the thill-horse--the value of the whole team, which his lords.h.i.+p happening to guess right within ten pounds, and showing, moreover, some skill about road-making and waggon-wheels, and being fortunately of the waggoner's own opinion in the great question about conical and cylindrical rims, he was pleased with the young chap of a gentleman; and, in spite of the chuffiness of his appearance and churlishness of his speech, this waggoner's bosom 'being made of penetrating stuff,' he determined to let the gentleman pa.s.s. Accordingly, when half-way up the hill, and the head of the fore-horse came near an open gate, the waggoner, without saying one word or turning his head, touched the horse with his long whip--and the horse turned in at the gate, and then came--

'Dobbin!--Jeho!' and strange calls and sounds, which all the other horses of the team obeyed; and the waggon turned into the farmyard.

'Now, master! while I turn, you may pa.s.s.'

The covering of the waggon caught in the hedge as the waggon turned in; and as the sacking was drawn back, some of the packages were disturbed--a cheese was just rolling off on the side next Lord Colambre; he stopped it from falling; the direction caught his quick eye--'To Ralph Reynolds, Esq.'--'TODDRINGTON' scratched out; 'Red Lion Square, London,' written in another hand below.

'Now I have found him! And surely I know that hand!' said Lord Colambre to himself, looking more closely at the direction.

The original direction was certainly in a handwriting well known to him it was Lady Dashfort's.

'That there cheese, that you're looking at so cur'ously,' said the waggoner, has been a great traveller; for it came all the way down from Lon'on, and now it's going all the way up again back, on account of not finding the gentleman at home; and the man that booked it told me as how it came from foreign parts.'

Lord Colambre took down the direction, tossed the honest waggoner a guinea, wished him good-night, pa.s.sed, and went on. As soon as he could, he turned into the London road--at the first town, got a place in the mail--reached London--saw his father--went directly to his friend, Count O'Halloran, who was delighted when he beheld the packet. Lord Colambre was extremely eager to go immediately to old Reynolds, fatigued as he was; for he had travelled night and day, and had scarcely allowed himself, mind or body, one moment's repose.

'Heroes must sleep, and lovers too; or they soon will cease to be heroes or lovers!' said the count. 'Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! this night; and to-morrow morning we'll finish the adventure in Red Lion Square, or I will accompany you when and where you will; if necessary, to earth's remotest bounds.'

The next morning Lord Colambre went to breakfast with the count. The count, who was not in love, was not up, for our hero was half an hour earlier than the time appointed. The old servant Ulick, who had attended his master to England, was very glad to see Lord Colambre again, and, showing him into the breakfast parlour, could not help saying, in defence of his master's punctuality--

'Your clocks, I suppose, my lord, are half an hour faster than ours; my master will be ready to the moment.'

The count soon appeared--breakfast was soon over, and the carriage at the door; for the count sympathised in his young friend's impatience.

As they were setting out, the count's large Irish dog pushed out of the house door to follow them and his master would have forbidden him, but Lord Colambre begged that he might be permitted to accompany them; for his lords.h.i.+p recollected the old woman's having mentioned that Mr.

Reynolds was fond of dogs.

They arrived in Red Lion Square, found the house of Mr. Reynolds, and, contrary to the count's prognostics, found the old gentleman up, and they saw him in his red night-cap at his parlour window. After some minutes' running backwards and forwards of a boy in the pa.s.sage, and two or three peeps taken over the blinds by the old gentleman, they were admitted.

The boy could not master their names; so they were obliged reciprocally to announce themselves--'Count O'Halloran and Lord Colambre.' The names seemed to make no impression on the old gentleman; but he deliberately looked at the count and his lords.h.i.+p, as if studying WHAT rather than WHO they were. In spite of the red night-cap, and a flowered dressing-gown, Mr. Reynolds looked like a gentleman, an odd gentleman--but still a gentleman.

As Count O'Halloran came into the room, and as his large dog attempted to follow, the count's voice expressed: 'Say, shall I let him in, or shut the door?'

'Oh, let him in, by all means, sir, if you please! I am fond of dogs; and a finer one I never saw; pray, gentlemen, be seated,' said he--a portion of the complacency inspired by the sight of the dog, diffusing itself over his manner towards the master of so fine an animal, and even extending to the master's companion, though in an inferior degree.

Whilst Mr. Reynolds stroked the dog, the count told him that 'the dog was of a curious breed, now almost extinct--the Irish greyhound, of which only one n.o.bleman in Ireland, it is said, has now a few of the species remaining in his possession--Now, lie down, Hannibal,' said the count. 'Mr. Reynolds, we have taken the liberty, though strangers, of waiting upon you--'

'I beg your pardon, sir,' interrupted Mr. Reynolds; 'but did I understand you rightly, that a few of the same species are still to be had from one n.o.bleman in Ireland? pray, what is his name?' said he, taking out his pencil.

The count wrote the name for him, but observed, that 'he had a.s.serted only that a few of these dogs remained in the possession of that n.o.bleman; he could not answer for it that they were TO BE HAD.'

'Oh, I have ways and means,' said old Reynolds; and, rapping his snuff-box, and talking, as it was his custom, loud to himself, 'Lady Dashfort knows all those Irish lords; she shall get one for me--ay! ay!'

Count O'Halloran replied, as if the words had been addressed to him--

'Lady Dashfort is in England.'

'I know it, sir; she is in London,' said Mr. Reynolds, hastily. 'What do you know of her?'

'I know, sir, that she is not likely to return to Ireland, and that I am; and so is my young friend here; and if the thing can be accomplished, we will get it done for you.'