So; poverty at home, and debts abroad,
My present fortune bad; my hopes yet worse!
What will become of me?
SOUTHERON’S ISABELLA.
The gentleman who had supposed himself
the next heir to the entailed property, vacant by
the demise of Admiral De Courcy, and whose hasty visit
and departure from Hall we have mentioned in a previous
chapter, was a third cousin of the deceased.
His history is short. He had squandered away
the personal property left him by his father; and his
family estate, which was of greater extent than value,
was mortgaged for even more than it was worth.
He had lately subsisted by borrowing large sums of
money at exorbitant interest, upon the expectancy of
succeeding to the property of Admiral De Courcy.
The result of his visit to the hall was, therefore,
unsatisfactory in more ways than one; and before he
had arrived at his own residence, his obsequious little
friend in black had reminded him of certain bonds
which were in his possession, and assumed a tone and
demeanour towards his client very different from that
in which he had addressed the supposed inheritor of
the large property of D –; intimating
in very plain terms that some speedy arrangement must
be made.
Rainscourt, who had nothing left except
the old castle on his property at Galway, his manorial
rights, and the unbounded attachment and devotion
of the wild tenants, who looked upon him as their feudal
chieftain, felt convinced that he had no resource but
to escape from his numerous creditors, who would not
hesitate to put him in durance, and whose impatience
had been with difficulty restrained until the death
of the admiral. The speedy arrangement
upon which he determined was, to set off immediately
for Ireland, and, by regaining his castle, defy legal
authority, if there could be found any that
would be rash enough to attempt his person, when encircled
by his lawless retainers.
As he descended from the chaise, at
the handsomely furnished lodgings, in the west end
of the metropolis, which he had engaged, his companion
informed him, with a haughty air, that he would have
the honour of paying his respects on the ensuing noon;
while Rainscourt, with his usual indifference to money,
dismissed the post boys with a handsome gratuity,
although there were not many guineas left in his purse;
and then proceeded up to the drawing room, on the
first-floor, where his wife and only daughter were
anxiously awaiting his arrival.
Mrs Rainscourt, still a fine and elegant
woman, had, in her youth, been remarkable for her
great personal attractions; and for two seasons, had
been considered as the belle of the Irish metropolis.
She was, at that period, a high-spirited and generous-minded
girl, easily provoked, and as easily appeased proud
of her beauty and her accomplishments, which her worldly-minded
parents were in hopes would be bartered for a coronet.
Rainscourt was also, at that time, one of the handsomest,
if not the handsomest man in Ireland, with the advantage
of polished manners, talent, and ancient birth.
Received and courted in every society, he was as
indefatigable in squandering away his property as the
parents of Mrs Rainscourt were in trying to obtain
an advantageous establishment for their daughter.
Rainscourt was proud and overbearing in disposition:
vain, to excess, of his personal advantages, he considered
himself irresistible with the other sex. He had
seen and admired his future spouse; but still, as
he required an alliance which would enable him to
indulge in his extravagance, and as her parents were
aware that Rainscourt was, or would soon be, a ruined
man, in all probability they would never have come
in contact, but have rolled in different orbits, more
consonant to their views and their happiness, had
it not occurred that, at a large and convivial party,
Rainscourt’s vanity had been piqued by his companions,
who told him that he never could obtain the hand of
Miss –, whose parents aspired to
a higher connection. Piqued at this remark,
and flushed with the wine that had been freely circulated,
he offered to stake a considerable sum that he would
succeed before a certain allotted time. The wager
was accepted. Rainscourt courted without affection:
and, by his assiduities and feigned attachment, ultimately
succeeded in persuading the fond girl to destroy all
the golden visions of her parent, and resign herself
to his arms, where he assured her that competence
and love would be found more than commensurate to
a coronet and neglect.
They eloped; all Dublin was in an
uproar for three days. Rainscourt received the
amount of his bet, and the congratulations of his friends,
and for a short time he and his wife lived together
without any serious fracas. The first that occurred
proceeded from an anonymous letter, evidently written
by some envious and disappointed female, acquainting
Mrs Rainscourt with all the circumstances attending
the bet, to which she had been sacrificed. This
mortifying news was received with showers of tears,
and some upbraiding; for Mrs Rainscourt really loved
her husband; and although patched up by Rainscourt’s
protestations, as to the falsehood of the accusation,
it sunk deep into her heart, and was but the forerunner
of future misery.
Rainscourt soon became tired of a
woman whom he had never loved; cursed his own vanity,
that had induced him to saddle himself with such an
encumbrance as a wife; and by alternate violence and
moroseness, irritated her feelings, and roused her
spirit. Neglect on his part produced indifference
on her side; and as the means of gaiety and expense
melted away, so did all respect and esteem for each
other.
An extravagant man seldom makes a
good husband; he becomes embarrassed, and his circumstances
prey upon his mind, and sour his temper. A woman
who has, before marriage, been the admiration of the
metropolis, is not very likely to prove a good wife.
She still sighs for the adulation that she received,
and which, from habit, has become necessary to her,
and would exact from the man for whom she has given
up the world, all the attention that she has lost
by the sacrifice.
Mr and Mrs Rainscourt were joined but
they were not one. Like many others in this
world of error, their marriage might be typified by
a vial, of which one half had been filled with oil,
and the other with water, having a cork in its mouth,
which confined them, and forced them to remain in
contact, although they refused to unite. The
fruit of this marriage was one daughter, now about
six years old.
“Well, Mr Rainscourt, all is
well, I hope; and may I not kiss my daughter, and
congratulate her upon being one of the largest heiresses
in the kingdom.”
“You may, if you please, madam.”
“May, if I please? Why,
is it not so, Mr Rainscourt?” replied the lady,
startled at the moody brow of her husband, as he threw
himself on the sofa.
Now, Rainscourt would not have so
immediately answered the question, but he was determined
that his spouse should participate in those pangs of
disappointment which swelled his own breast; as a partner
of all his joys, she was, of course, fully entitles
to an equal proportion of his cares.
“No, madam it is not so.”
“Surely you are trifling with
me, Mr Rainscourt: is not the admiral dead?”
“Yes, madam, and his grandchild is alive.”
“His grandchild!” cried
the lady in alto, pallid with vexation and
disappointment. “Well, Mr Rainscourt, this
is another specimen of your usual prudence and foresight.
What man in his senses would not have ascertained
such a fact, previous to squandering away his whole
property, and leaving his daughter a beggar?”
“I think, madam, if the property
has been squandered, as you term it, that you have
assisted me in so doing; at all events, the property
was my own; for I cannot exactly recollect that you
increased it one shilling when I married you.”
“Certainly, not much, Mr Rainscourt,
except, indeed, the amount of the bet. I consider
that as my marriage portion,” replied the lady
with a sneer.
“Never made a worse bet in my
life,” replied the gentleman, throwing his legs
upon the sofa.
“Perhaps not,” replied
his wife, with offended seriousness; “but recollect,
Mr Rainscourt, that you have no one to blame
but yourself you were not deceived.
I might have been happy might have met
with sincerity and reciprocal affection. Your
conduct towards me was an act of cruelty, which would
have called forth some compunction in the breast of
my bitterest enemy; and yet, unoffending, I was heartlessly
sacrificed to your vanity.”
“Say, rather, to your own, which
blinded you, or you would have been able to discriminate
better.”
Mrs Rainscourt burst into tears.
Before her emotion could be controlled, her husband,
who was hardened to these scenes of alternate anger
and grief, either was, or pretended to be, in a sound
sleep.
The little girl had nestled close
to her mother at the ebullition of her feelings, and
waited in silence until it was exhausted.
“Why, mamma, I thought you said
we should be so happy now.”
“Did I, my dear?” replied Mrs Rainscourt,
mournfully.
“Yes, you did, and told me that
we should have a fine house in London, and that we
should not go back to the old castle again. I
was sorry for that, though. Where shall we go
now, mamma?”
“God knows, my child; you must ask your father.”
“Papa’s asleep, and I
must not wake him. I do hope we shall go back
to the castle.”
“Then you’ll have your
wish, my love,” replied Mr Rainscourt, rousing
up, “for I start this very evening.”
“Are we to go with you, Mr Rainscourt?”
asked Mrs Rainscourt, calmly; “or are we to
be left here?”
“As you please; but I must be
off, for that little scoundrel T –,
threatened me with a visit to-morrow morning as I got
out of the chaise, and I am aware that he will not
come without a companion or two.”
“T –! What
T –? your friend T –! that
you brought from Dublin with you, and who professes
so much admiration and esteem your own
factotum?”
“Yes, my own factotum snivelling
little scoundrel. But, however, there’s
not time to be lost. You have some jewels, my
dear, and other articles of value; you had better
pack them up, and consign them to me as soon as possible.
You may then take your choice, go with
me now, or follow me in a day or two. They cannot
arrest you.”
“I am aware of that, Mr Rainscourt,”
replied the lady; “but as I may not have the
means of following, my daughter and I will, if you
please, become a part of your travelling incumbrance,
as well as the jewels and other articles of
value.”
“Be it so,” replied the
gentleman, who perfectly understood her sarcastic
meaning, but did not think it advisable to retort at
the moment; “One post-chaise will carry us all;
but we must leave town at twelve o’clock this
night. If I recollect right, we are asked to
a rout at Lady G –’s?”
“We are; but pray, Mr Rainscourt,
how am I to get ready so soon? The servants
must be paid all the bills must be called
in.”
“If you wait until I can pay
all the bills, you must wait till eternity, perhaps.
Pack up everything that is portable, without the knowledge
of the servants; your jewels you can have upon your
own person, or in a pocket, if you ever wear one.
Order the carriage dress, and we will
both go to the rout. I shall leave word with
Roberts to bring me any letters which may be sent,
telling him that the admiral is not dead yet, although
hourly expected nothing has transpired to
the contrary. I can slip away from the rout,
and write the letter myself, which I will send by
a porter. When I go home, and the chaise which
I shall order is at the door, I will put Emily in
it, and call for you at Lady G’s. The
servants may suspect something, but it will then be
too late.”
Danger will unite those who are at
variance. Mrs R entered readily into the proposed
arrangements, which necessity imposed upon them, and
in a few hours, father, mother, and daughter were on
their way to Ireland, leaving the house-rent, butcher’s,
baker’s, chandler’s and all other bills,
of no trifling sum total, to be paid at some more
favourable opportunity. The servants indemnified
themselves as well as they could, by seizing what
was left, and cursing the elopers; and the obsequious
little gentleman in black vowed vengeance as he quitted
the deserted mansion, to which he had paid his promised
visit in the morning, with a particular friend or
two, to enforce his arguments with Mr Rainscourt.