420 ERNEST ATHERLEY; OR, SCENES AT HOME AND A BROAD. BY LORD WILLIAM LENNOX, CHAPTER XV. "Antes que cases vea, lo que haces."-SPANISH PROVERB. I fall desperately in love-Elopement in high life-Arrive in London-Nerot's hotel-Funds unusually low. Nothing could exceed the feverish state of suspense and anxiety I was in, after I had despatched my letters to my father and mother, asking their consent to an union upon which rested my happiness. My highly-wrought imagination had led me to describe Kate O'Crohon as an angelic creature; as one who possessed every virtue under the sun, and whose sole object was to render the object of her choice superlatively happy. Noble qualities, disinterested affection, unsophisticated manners, a charitable nature, guileless feelings, a faultless disposition, were the themes upon which I worked; and I wound up with the assurance that my temporal welfare, nay, my life itself, depended upon the fiat of my hitherto kind and indulgent parents. During this awful suspense, every hour increased my adoration for the lovely girl the animated smile that welcomed me on my arrival, the depressed look that attended my departure went to my heart's inward core, and the delicacy which prompted my charmer to avoid all allusion to that which had now become the talk of the county, was not lost upon me. As the almost magic power of steam was not, at the time I write of, even in prospective existence, it required at least six days before an answer could reach me from Warwickshire. At length the eventful morning arrived, when two letters, both franked by my father, were placed in my hands; for a few seconds I could not muster up sufficient courage to break the seals, and nothing but the well-known voice of Phelim O'Shea, telling me the jaunting car was at the door, urged me to rush into my fate. I thought of Kate, of my beloved Kate; of the happiness with which I should meet her, if I gained my parents' consent-alas! the first lines that caught my attention dashed the cup of bliss from my lips. My mother, in the most affectionate manner, urged me to consider the ruin that would inevitably befal me, if, at so early an age, and with little but my profession to depend upon, I entered into the marriage state. My father, equally kind, but with a greater degree of firmness, told me candidly he would never give his sanction to so rash a step; he reminded me I was a soldier of fortune, and pointed out not only the folly, but want of principle, in marrying without the means of providing for a wife. No allusion was made, in either letter, to the object of my choice; my father merely adding as a postscript, "that under other circumstances, he would beg to be recalled to the remembrance of his old acquaintance, Patrick O'Crohon." Under this distressing event, I was at a loss how to act; fifty wild schemes flashed across my maddened brain. My first impulse was to obtain leave of absence, and throw myself at my parents' feet; but what stronger appeal could I make than the one I had previously addressed them? My next thought was to see Kate, and urge her to await a more favourable issue; but what right had I to trifle with her feelings, after making her the talk of the county? Left without a friend to counsel me, I was on the brink of despair, when a mounted orderly approached my quarters. "A despatch for Lieutenant Atherley," said the dragoon, "from Colonel Douglas." "The Lieutenant is at home," replied my orderly corporal, proud to show the cavalry soldier how the duty was carried on in the gallant-th. The official document ran as follows: "Head Quarters, Kilkenny, Sept. 14th, 18 "REGIMENTAL ORDER. "Lieutenant Atherley will hold himself in readiness to conduct Lieutenant Colonel Douglas through his cantonments, on an inspection of the detachment under Lieutenant Atherley's command. The men to appear in marching order. ARTHUR HENEAGE, Lieutenant and Adjutant.” This duty entirely put an end to my projected visit to Mahala, and I forwarded a note by Phelim O'Shea, apologizing for my unavoidable ab sence. (Signed), The remainder of the day was passed in brushing up my knowledge respecting the men under my command, and in parading up and down before the inn door, waiting the arrival of my commanding officer. Evening had set in, and Colonel Douglas had not appeared, when, about ten o'clock at night, a chaise-and-pair drove up to the door; so unusual an occurrence attracted my attention, and, before I had time to ascertain who the new comer was, the door of my room was thrown open, and Colonel Warburton, who my readers may remember at The Willows, was announced. After a most friendly greeting, the veteran informed me that my mother's health had been for some time in a delicate state, and that she had been recommended to pass a few months at Brighton; he concluded by saying that business had brought him to Ireland, and that he had my father's permission-if leave of absence could be obtained-to take me back with him to my father at Atherley Manor. "The Earl has written to the authorities at the Horse Guards for a month's leave," continued the old soldier, "and to-morrow I expect to hear from his Lordship upon the subject.' The chaotic confusion of my mind can be better understood than described; and to make matters worse, my faithful messenger, Phelim, had returned to say that Miss Kate O'Crohon had been suffering from a slight indisposition during the morning, and that, when he left, the medical man had been sent for, from Kilkenny, as she was considerably worse. To leave my quarters was impossible, so I exerted all my fortitude to wait patiently for the morning, when I trusted that Colonel Douglas would make his inspection, and release me from my present confinement to military duty. G G After a restless feverish night, I awoke to a sense of all my miseries; and if there is a moment more wretched than another, it is that when one first becomes conscious of the weight of grief with which the eyelids were closed, and which now comes back to the senses in all its force and power. The usual hour for morning parade was nine o'clock, and with the preciseness of a soldier, five minutes before that time, Colonel Warburton was waiting for me, anxious to see, even a detachment of a regiment with which in former days he had served. As we proceeded to the small green, the scene of our evolutions, the trampling of horses was heard behind us,,and, upon turning round, I recognised the Colonel and the Adjutant. The latter cantered forward, saying "The Colonel is coming up, sir." Upon hearing this, I immediately gave the word to fall in, which was promptly obeyed; the ranks were then opened, and the general salute given. After inspecting the ranks, Colonel Douglas inquired whether any non-commissioned officer or soldier had any complaint to make. No reply being given, he ordered me to drill the detachment by manœuvres, and to put them through the manual and platoon exercise. After inspecting the men's quarters, the Colonel addressed me in most flattering terms upon the general appearance of the detachment, and informed me that, in consequence of the illness of my mother, a month's leave of absence had been granted me. "You will be relieved to-morrow morning by Lieutenant Cowper," said the Adjutant, "and proceed immediately to England. In the mean time, the Colonel wishes you to remain within the cantonments, as your services may be required. This, I afterwards found to be a ruse, to keep me from my charmer. It was now arranged that we should post to Dublin, cross to Holyhead, and then proceed by mail to Birmingham and Coventry, where the carriage was to meet us, to take us home, Colonel Warburton having accepted an invitation to pass a week with my father at Atherley Manor. To leave my quarters was impossible, so I consoled myself by writing a letter to Mrs. O'Crohon, full of fervour and affection for her daughter, telling her of my mother's illness, and of my unexpected call to England for a brief period. I spare my reader this effusion. Having sealed this precious document with a somewhat hacknied though appropriate motto, I entrusted my faithful emissary, Phelim, with the letter, and devoted the rest of the day to lionizing my friends over the beauties of the neighbourhood. No sooner had the hospitable owner of Woodstock been made acquainted with the fact, that so distinguished an officer as Colonel Warburton was in the neighbourhood, than he immediately forwarded us an invitation to dinner. This we gladly accepted; for, although I did not feel myself up to any society, I was happy to have my thoughts in some measure diverted from the gloomy channel in which they were fixed. I pass over the evening, which, under any other circumstance, would have been truly delightful for how could it be otherwise, when we had an unaffected amiable hostess, a warm-hearted liberal host, some neigh bours and friends who charmed us with their conversational and musical powers, rendering it a "feast of reason," without the "flow of bowl." Upon the following morning, at nine o'clock, I was relieved by a brother officer, and, within half an hour of that time, Colonel Warburton and myself were seated in a rather rickety post chaise, on our way to Woodenbridge, where we were to remain that night. As my companion was anxious to visit a relation, who lived near the vale of Avoca, it was settled that we should take this detour, which would enable him to fulfil a long-promised engagement, and furnish me with an opportunity of seeing that spot which had been enshrined in my memory by the admirable manner in which Kate had warbled forth Moore's beautiful ballad "The meeting of the waters." The excitement of travelling, especially over Irish roads, where numerous incidents, such as breaking the pole, starting a spoke, snapping a spring, losing a trace, were constantly happening, prevented me from brooding over those griefs which now weighed down my spirit. My companion, too, with admirable tact, did his best to divert my thoughts, by referring to incidents connected with my early days, and bringing back to my memory those happy hours of youth, when all was buoyancy, sunshine, and joy. It was about the middle of September, when the weather was bright and bracing, that we commenced our journey, and before the sun had set, we reached the small inn near the celebrated vale of Avoca. It was one of those evenings which, from their clear delicious freshness, give buoyancy to the step, strength and elasticity to the spirit. No sooner, then, had I descended from the rattling vehicle, and taken leave of my fellow-traveller, than I strolled to the "meeting of the waters." Colonel Warburton, whose relation lived a few miles from the valley, and at whose house he was to remain that night, had made an arrangement with me to call for him soon after breakfast the following morning, to proceed on our journey to Dublin. Left to myself, my entire thoughts reverted to my absent one. I recalled the memory of those fairy dreams we had indulged in; how often had we talked over the county of Wicklow and its beauties; the bright peaceful waters, the wild legend of St. Keven, and Kathleen's grave at Glendalough, the romantic seven churches, and now, by an unaccountable fate, was I on the very spot, alone and desolate. The trees, shrubs, and flowers were blooming with freshness; nature wore its brightest aspect; the branches of the overspreading coppice were animated by a thousand warbling birds, sending forth their notes of joy. Ill did those gladsome carols accord with my sad and dreary thoughts. Proceeding through a mazy path, over a level sward of green-real Irish emerald green-I reached a spot that commanded a view of the meeting of the waters. Nothing could exceed the picturesque beauty of the scenery; and, lost in admiration, I could not restrain from exclaiming "First flower of the earth, first gem of the sea." While gazing on the pure crystal waters, an incident occurred which, comparatively trifling in itself, produced a most powerful effect upon my feelings. The sound of a harp attracted my attention, and, upon looking round, I saw a group, consisting of two lovely girls and a youth, reclining under the shade of a luxuriant oak: it was a picture worthy of Watteau. The eldest of the females-and she could scarcely have attained her twentieth year-was employed in making a sketch of the romantic bridge, here thrown over the Avon and Avoca; while the younger held in her arm the national instrument of her country; now singing sweet snatches of some inspiring Irish song, now striking the chord of some well-known, heart-stirring air. The youth, who seemed riveted to the spot, was arranging a bouquet of simple wild flowers, in which, not the least conspicuous, was "The chosen leaf Of bard and chief, Old Erin's native shamrock." After a few moments' pause, the tones of "The minstrel boy "-Kate O'Crohon's favourite melody-filled the air. The effect was miraculous. How often had I brought tears into her dark lustrous eyes, by the recital of the touching anecdote upon which the song was founded. In an engagement that took place at Goree, between the king's troops and the rebels, the latter were victorious. Among their prisoners, was a stripling of twelve years of age, a drummer boy, named Hunter. The captors told him his life should be spared, and that he should still beat his drum for them upon their march; but the heroic child, filled with devotion to his monarch, exclaimed-"Never! the drum that has sounded in the king's service shall never be beaten for rebels ;" then, leaping upon it, destroyed its sound for ever. The sequel was melancholy: the gallant little fellow was instantaneously put to deatha youthful martyr in the cause of loyalty. To return to my own feelings. Every thought was centred in my beloved one; the remembrance of her I had neglected took entire possession of my mind; I felt that Kate was to me— "Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart." A shade of indescribable sadness came over my spirit, and in the overpowering excitement of the moment, I determined to sacrifice all other considerations for her love. Hastily quitting the scene, I hurried back to the inn, and, calling for pen, ink, and paper, commenced a dozen letters to the absent one. In vain did the landlord assure me that my dinner would be spoilt-in vain did the waiter try to lure me from my employment, by describing the culinary luxuries that awaited me-I was immoveable; and it was not until past nine o'clock that I had finished, signed, and sealed a penitential epistle to Kate O'Crohon, urging her to forgive my apparent neglect, and to accept the hand of one whose heart had long been hers. "You may serve dinner now," I said to the waiter, who, under some pretence, had entered the room. "And pray where is the post-office?" "Widow Malony, at the whisky store, about fifty yards down the road, holds the letter box, your honour," responded the man. While this colloquy was going on, the landlady appeared, and seemed grateful to find that I was no longer going to delay the meal which had suffered so considerably from my want of punctuality. In less than two minutes the platters smoked on the board. A twelve hours' fast had given me the best of all sauces-appetite; and when the savoury odour of a real Irish stew reached my olfactory senses, I felt half famished, and set to work more like a starved cannibal, than one who a few hours before had not the slightest inclination for food. |