Book: Handy Andy, Vol. 2

S >> Samuel Lover >> Handy Andy, Vol. 2




"By Jove! you sing right well, colonel," said one of the party.

"I think the gallant colonel's songs nothing in comparison with his
_wonderful_ stories," said Moriarty.

"Gentlemen," said Dick, "wonderful as the colonel's recitals have been,
this letter conveys a piece of information more surprising than anything
we have heard this day. That stupid fellow who spoiled our champagne has
come in for the inheritance of a large property."

"What!--Handy Andy?" exclaimed those who knew his name.

"Handy Andy," said Dick, "is now a man of fortune!"




CHAPTER XLVIII


It was a note from Squire Egan which conveyed the news to Dick that caused
so much surprise; the details of the case were not even hinted at; the
bare fact alone was mentioned, with a caution to preserve it still a
secret from Andy, and appointing an hour for dinner at "Morrison's" next
day, at which hotel the Squire expected to arrive from the country, with
his lady and Fanny Dawson, _en route_ for London. Till dinner-time,
then, the day following, Dick was obliged to lay by his impatience as to
the "why and wherefore" of Andy's sudden advancement; but, as the morning
was to be occupied with Tom Durfy's wedding, Dick had enough to keep him
engaged in the meantime.

At the appointed hour a few of Tom's particular friends were in attendance
to witness the ceremony, or, to use their own phrase, "to see him turned
off," and among them was Tom Loftus. Dick was holding out his hand to "the
colonel," when Tom Durfy stepped between, and introduced him under his
real name. The masquerading trick of the night before was laughed at, with
an assurance from Dick that it only fulfilled all he had ever heard of the
Protean powers of a gentleman whom he so much wished to know. A few
minutes' conversation in the recess of a window put Tom Loftus and Dick
the Devil on perfectly good terms, and Loftus proposed to Dick that they
should execute the old-established trick on a bridegroom, of snatching the
first kiss from the bride.

"You must get in Tom's way," said Loftus, "and I'll kiss her."

"Why, the fact is," said Dick, "I had proposed that pleasure to myself;
and, if it's all the same to you, _you_ can jostle Tom, and
_I'll_ do the remainder in good style, I promise you."

"That I can't agree to," said Loftus; "but as it appears we both have set
our heart on cheating the bridegroom, let us both start fair, and 't is
odd if between us Tom Durfy is not _done_"

This was agreed upon, and many minutes did not elapse till the bride made
her appearance, and "hostilities were about to commence." The mutual enemy
of the "high contracting parties" first opened his book, and then his
mouth, and in such solemn tones, that it was enough to frighten _even_
a widow, much less a bachelor. As the ceremony verged to a conclusion,
Tom Loftus and Dick the Devil edged up towards their 'vantage-ground
on either side of the blooming widow, now nearly finished into a wife,
and stood like greyhounds in the slip, ready to start after puss
(only puss ought to be spelt here with a B). The widow, having been
married before, was less nervous than Durfy, and, suspecting the intended
game, determined to foil both the brigands, who intended to rob the
bridegroom of his right; so, when the last word of the ceremony was
spoken, and Loftus and Dick made a simultaneous dart upon her, she very
adroitly ducked, and allowed the two "ruggers and rievers" to rush into
each other's arms, and rub their noses together, while Tom Durfy and his
blooming bride sealed their contract very agreeably without their noses
getting in each other's way.

Loftus and Dick had only a laugh at _their own_ expense, instead of a
kiss at _Tom's_, upon the failure of their plot; but Loftus, in a
whisper to Dick, vowed he would execute a trick upon the "pair of them"
before the day was over.

There was a breakfast as usual, and chicken and tongue and wine,
which, taken in the morning, are provocative of eloquence; and, of
course, the proper quantity of healths and toasts were executed _selon
la reglei,_ it was time for the bride and bridegroom to bow and
blush and curtsey out of the room, and make themselves food for a
paragraph in the morning papers, under the title of the "happy pair,"
who set off in a handsome chariot, &c., &c.

* * * * *

Tom Durfy had engaged a pretty cottage in the neighbourhood of Clontarf to
pass the honeymoon. Tom Loftus knew this, and knew, moreover, that the
sitting-room looked out on a small lawn which lay before the house,
screened by a hedge from the road, but with a circular sweep leading up to
the house, and a gate of ingress and egress at either end of the hedge. In
this sitting-room Tom, after lunch, was pressing his lady fair to take a
glass of champagne, when the entrance-gate was thrown open, and a hackney
jaunting-car with Tom Loftus and a friend or two upon it, driven by a
special ragamuffin blowing a tin horn, rolled up the skimping avenue, and
as it scoured past the windows of the sitting-room, Tom Loftus and the
other passengers kissed hands to the astonished bride and bridegroom, and
shouted, "Wish you joy!"

The thing was so sudden that Durfy and the widow, not seeing Loftus, could
hardly comprehend what it meant, and both ran to the window; but just as
they reached it, up drove another car, freighted with two or three more
wild rascals who followed the lead which had been given them; and as a
long train of cars were seen in the distance all driving up to the avenue,
the widow, with a timid little scream, threw her handkerchief over her
face and ran into a corner. Tom did not know whether to laugh or be angry,
but, being a good-humoured fellow, he satisfied himself with a few oaths
against the incorrigible Loftus, and when the _cortege_ had passed,
endeavoured to restore the startled fair one to her serenity.

* * * * *

Squire Egan and party arrived at the appointed hour at their hotel, where
Dick was waiting to receive them, and, of course, his inquiries were
immediately directed to the extraordinary circumstance of Andy's
elevation, the details of which he desired to know. These we shall not
give in the expanded form in which Dick heard them, but endeavour to
condense, as much as possible, within the limits to which we are
prescribed.

The title of Scatterbrain had never been inherited directly from father to
son; it had descended in a zigzag fashion, most appropriate to the name,
nephews and cousins having come in for the coronet and the property for
some generations. The late lord had led a _roue_ bachelor life up to
the age of sixty, and then thought it not worth while to marry, though
many mammas and daughters spread their nets and arrayed their charms to
entrap the sexagenarian.

The truth was, he had quaffed the cup of licentious pleasure all his life,
after which he thought matrimony would prove insipid. The mere novelty
induces some men, under similar circumstances, to try the holy estate; but
matrimony could not offer to Lord Scatterbrain the charms of novelty, for
_he had been_ once married, though no one but himself was cognisant
of the fact.

The reader will certainly say, "Here's an Irish bull; how could a man be
married, without, at least, a woman and a priest being joint possessors of
the secret?"

Listen, gentle reader, and you shall hear how none but Lord Scatterbrain
knew Lord Scatterbrain was married.

There was nothing at which he ever stopped for the gratification of his
passions--no wealth he would not squander, no deceit he would not
practise, no disguise he would not assume. Therefore, gold, and falsehood,
and masquerading were extensively employed by this reckless _roue_
in the service of Venus, in which service, combined with that of Bacchus,
his life was entirely passed.

Often he assumed the guise of a man in humble life, to approximate some
object of his desire, whom fine clothes and bribery would have instantly
warned and in too many cases his artifices were successful. It was in one
of these adventures he cast his eyes upon the woman hitherto known in this
story under the name of the Widow Rooney; but all his practices against
her virtue were unavailing, and nothing but a marriage could accomplish
what he had set his fancy upon but even _this_ would not stop him,
_for he married her_.

The Widow Rooney has appeared no very inviting personage through these
pages, and the reader may wonder that a man of rank could proceed to such
desperate lengths upon such slight temptation; but, gentle reader, she was
young and attractive when she was married--never to say _handsome_,
but good-looking decidedly, and with that sort of figure which is
comprehended in the phrase "a fine girl."

And has that fine girl altered into the Widow Rooney? Ah! poverty and
hardship are sore trials to the body as well as to the mind. Too little is
it considered, while we gaze on aristocratic beauty, how much good food,
soft lying, warm wrapping, ease of mind, have to do with the attractions
which command our admiration. Many a hand moulded by nature to give
elegance of form to a kid glove, is "stinted of its fair proportion" by
grubbing toil. The foot which might have excited the admiration of a
ball-room, peeping under a flounce of lace in a satin shoe, and treading
the mazy dance, _will_ grow coarse and broad by tramping in its native
state over toilsome miles, bearing perchance to a market town some few
eggs, whose whole produce would not purchase the sandal-tie of my lady's
slipper; will grow red and rough by standing in wet trenches, and feeling
the winter's frost. The neck on which diamonds might have worthily
sparkled, will look less tempting when the biting winter has hung
icicles there for gems. Cheeks formed as fresh for dimpling blushes,
eyes as well to sparkle, and lips to smile, as those which shed their
brightness and their witchery in the tapestried saloon, will grow
pale with want, and forget their dimples, when smiles are not there
to wake them; lips become compressed and drawn with anxious thought,
and eyes the brightest are quenched of their fires by many tears.

Of all these trials poor Widow Rooney had enough. Her husband, after
living with her a month, in the character of a steward to some great man
in a distant part of the country, left her one day for the purpose of
transacting business at a fair, which, he said, would require his absence
for some time. At the end of a week, a letter was sent to her, stating
that the make-believe steward had robbed his master extensively, and had
fled to America, whence he promised to write to her, and send her means to
follow him, requesting, in the meantime, her silence, in case any inquiry
should be made about him. This villanous trick was played off the more
readily, from the fact that a steward had absconded at the time, and the
difference in the name the cruel profligate accounted for by saying that,
as he was hiding at the moment he married her, he had assumed another
name.

The poor deserted girl, fully believing this trumped-up tale, obeyed with
unflinching fidelity the injunctions of her betrayer; and while reports
were flying abroad of the absconded steward, she never breathed a word of,
what had been confided to her, and accounted for the absence of "Rooney"
in various ways of her own; so that all trace of the profligate was lost,
by her remaining inactive in making the smallest inquiry about him, and
her very fidelity to her betrayer became the means of her losing all power
of procuring his discovery. For months she trusted all was right;
but when moon followed moon, and she gave birth to a boy without
hearing one word of his father, misgiving came upon her, and the
only consolation left her was, that, though she was deserted, and
a child left on her hands, still she was _an honest woman_. That
child was the hero of our tale. The neighbours passed some ill-natured
remarks about her, when it began to be suspected that her husband
would never let her know more about him; for she had been rather a
saucy lady, holding up her nose at poor men, and triumphing in her
catching of the "steward," a man well to do in the world; and it may be
remembered, that this same spirit existed in her when Andy's rumoured
marriage with Matty gave the prospect of her affairs being retrieved, for
she displayed her love of pre-eminence to the very first person who gave
her the good news. The ill-nature of her neighbours, however, after the
birth of her child and the desertion of her husband, inducing her to leave
the scene of her unmerited wrongs and annoyances, she suddenly decamped,
and, removing to another part of Ireland, the poor woman began a life of
hardship, to support herself and rear the offspring of her unfortunate
marriage. In this task she was worthily assisted by one of her brothers,
who pitied her condition, and joined her in her retreat. He married in
course of time, and his wife died in giving birth to Oonah, who was soon
deprived of her other parent by typhus fever, that terrible scourge of the
poor; so that the praiseworthy desire of the brother to befriend his
sister only involved her, as it happened, in the deeper difficulty of
supporting two children instead of one. This she did heroically, and the
orphan girl rewarded her, by proving a greater comfort than her own child;
for Andy had inherited in all its raciness the blood of the Scatterbrains,
and his deeds, as recorded in this history, prove he was no unworthy
representative of that illustrious title. To return to his father--who had
done the grievous wrong to the poor peasant girl: he lived his life of
profligacy through, and in a foreign country died at last; but on his
death-bed the scourge of conscience rendered every helpless hour an age of
woe. Bitterest of all was the thought of the wife deceived, deserted, and
unacknowledged. To face his last account with such fearful crime upon his
head he dared not, and made all the reparation now in his power, by
avowing his marriage in his last will and testament, and giving all the
information in his power to trace his wife, if living, or his heir, if
such existed. He enjoined, by the most sacred injunctions upon him to whom
the charge was committed, that neither cost nor trouble should be spared
in the search, leaving a large sum in ready money besides, to establish
the right, in case his nephew disputed the will. By his own order, his
death was kept secret, and secretly his agent set to work to discover any
trace of the heir. This, in consequence of the woman changing her place of
abode, became more difficult and it was not until after very minute
inquiry that some trace was picked up, and a letter written to the parish
priest of the district to which she had removed, making certain general
inquiries. It was found, on comparing dates some time after, that it was
this very letter to Father Blake which Andy had purloined from the
post-office, and the Squire had thrown into the fire; so that our hero was
very near, by his blundering, destroying his own fortune. Luckily for him,
however, an untiring and intelligent agent was engaged in his cause, and a
subsequent inquiry, and finally a personal visit to Father Blake, cleared
the matter up satisfactorily, and the widow was enabled to produce such
proof of her identity, and that of her son, that Handy Andy was
indisputably Lord Scatterbrain; and the whole affair was managed so
secretly, that the death of the late lord, and the claim of title and
estates in the name of the rightful heir, were announced at the same
moment; and the "Honourable Sackville," instead of coming into possession
of the peerage and property, and fighting his adversary at the great
advantage of possession, could only commence a suit to drive him out,
if he sued at all.

Our limits compel us to this brief sketch of the circumstances through
which Handy Andy was entitled to and became possessed of a property and a
title, and we must now say something of the effects produced by the
intelligence on the parties most concerned.

The Honourable Sackville Scatterbrain, on the advice of high legal
authority, did not attempt to dispute a succession of which such
satisfactory proofs existed, and, fortunately for himself, had knocked up
a watering-place match, while he was yet in the bloom of heirship
_presumptive_ to a peerage, with the daughter of an English
_millionaire_.

When the Widow Rooney heard the extraordinary turn affairs had taken, her
emotions, after the first few hours of pleasurable surprise, partook of
regret rather than satisfaction. She looked upon her past life of
suffering, and felt as if Fate had cheated her. She, a peeress, had passed
her life in poverty and suffering, with contempt from those over whom she
had superior rights; and the few years of the prosperous future before her
offered her poor compensation for the pinching past. But after such
selfish considerations, the maternal feeling came to her relief, and she
rejoiced that _her son_ was a lord. But then came the terrible
thought of his marriage to dash her joy and triumph.

This was a source of grief to Oonah as well. "If he wasn't married," she
would say to herself, "I might be _Lady_ Scatterbrain;" and the tears
would burst through poor Oonah's fingers as she held them up to her eyes
and sobbed heavily, till the poor girl would try to gather consolation
from the thought that, maybe, Andy's altered circumstances would make
_her_ disregarded. "There would be plenty to have him now," thought
she, "and he wouldn't think of me, maybe--so 't is well as it is."

When Andy heard that he was a lord--a real lord--and, after the first
shock of astonishment, could comprehend that wealth and power were in his
possession, he, though the most interested person, never thought, as the
two women had done, of the desperate strait in which his marriage placed
him, but broke out into short peals of laughter, and exclaimed in the
intervals, "that it was mighty quare;" and when, after much questioning,
any intelligible desire he had could be understood, the first one he
clearly expressed was _"to have a goold watch."_

He was made, however, to understand that other things than "goold watches"
were of more importance; and the Squire, with his characteristic good
nature, endeavoured to open Andy's comprehension to the nature of his
altered situation. This, it may be supposed, was rather a complicated
piece of work, and too difficult to be set down in black and white; the
most intelligible portions to Andy were his immediate removal from
servitude, and a ready-made suit of gentlemanly apparel, which made Andy
pay several visits to the looking-glass. Good-natured as the Squire was,
it would have been equally awkward to him as to Andy for the newly fledged
lord, though a lord, to have a seat at his table, neither could he remain
in an inferior position in his house; so Dick, who loved fun, volunteered
to take Andy under his especial care to London, and let him share his
lodgings, as a bachelor may do many things which a man surrounded by his
family cannot. Besides, in a place distant from such extraordinary chances
and changes as those which befell our hero, the sudden and startling
difference of position of the parties not being known renders it possible
for a gentleman to do the good-natured thing which Dick undertook, without
compromising himself. In Dublin it would not have done for Dick Dawson
to allow the man who would have held his horse the day before, to
share the same board with him merely because Fortune had played one
of her frolics and made Andy a lord; but in London the case was different.

To London therefore they proceeded. The incidents of the journey, sea-
sickness included, which so astonished the new traveller, we pass over, as
well as the numberless mistakes in the great metropolis, which afforded
Dick plentiful amusement, though, in truth, Dick had better objects in
view than laughing at Andy's embarrassments in his new position. He really
wished to help him in the difficult path into which the new lord had been
thrust, and did this in a merry sort of way more successfully than by
serious drilling. It was hard to break Andy of the habit of saying
"Misther Dick," when addressing him, but, at last, "Misther Dawson" was
established. Eating with his knife, drinking as loudly as a horse, and
other like accomplishments, were not so easily got under, yet it was
wonderful how much he improved, as his shyness grew less, and his
consciousness of being a lord grew stronger.

But, if the good nature of Dick had not prompted him to take Andy into
training, the newly discovered nobleman would not have long been in want
of society. It was wonderful how many persons were eager to show civility
to his lordship, and some amongst them even went so far as to discover
relationship. Plenty were soon ready to take Lord Scatterbrain here, and
escort him there, accompany him to exhibitions and other public places,
and charmed all the time with his lordship's remarks--"they were so
original"--"quite delightful to meet something so fresh"--"how remarkably
clever the Irish were!" Such were among the observations his ignorant
blunders produced; and he who, as Handy Andy, had been anathematised all
his life as a "stupid rascal," "a blundering thief," "a thick-headed
brute," &c., under the title of Lord Scatterbrain all of a sudden
was voted "vastly amusing--a little eccentric, perhaps, but _so_
droll--in fact, so witty!" This was all very delightful for Andy
--so delightful that he quite forgot Bridget _rhua_. But that
lady did not leave him long in his happy obliviousness. One day,
while Dick was absent, and Andy rocking on a chair before the fire,
twirling the massive gold chain of his gold watch round his forefinger,
and uncoiling it again, his repose was suddenly disturbed by the
appearance of Bridget herself, accompanied by _Shan More_ and
a shrimp of a man in rusty black, who turned out to be a shabby attorney
who advanced money to convey his lady client and her brother to London,
for the purpose of making a dash at the lord at once, and securing a
handsome sum by a _coup de main_.

Andy, though taken by surprise, was resolute. Bitter words were exchanged;
and as they seemed likely to lead to blows, Andy prudently laid hold of
the poker, and, in language not quite suited to a noble lord, swore he
would see what the inside of _Shan More's_ head was made of, if he
attempted to advance upon him. Bridget screamed and scolded, while the
attorney endeavoured to keep the peace, and, beyond everything, urged Lord
Scatterbrain to enter at once into written engagements for a handsome
settlement upon his "lady."

"Lady!" exclaimed Andy; "oh!--a pretty _lady_ she is!"

"I'm as good a lady as you are a lord, anyhow," cried Bridget.

"Altercation will do no good, my lord and my lady," said the attorney;
"let me suggest the propriety of your writing an engagement at once;" and
the little man pushed pen, ink, and paper towards Andy.

"I can't, I tell you!" cried Andy.

"You must!" roared _Shan More_.

"Bad luck to you, how can I when I never larned?"

"Your lordship can make your mark," said the attorney.

"'Faith I can--with a poker," cried Andy; "and you'd better take care,
master parchment. Make my mark, indeed!--do you think I'd disgrace the
House o' Peers by lettin' on that a lord couldn't write?--Quit the
buildin', I tell you!"

In the midst of the row, which now rose to a tremendous pitch, Dick
returned; and after a severe reprimand to the pettifogger for his sinister
attempt on Andy, referred him to Lord Scatterbrain's solicitor. It was not
such an easy matter to silence Bridget, who extended her claws towards her
lord and master in a very menacing manner, calling down bitter
imprecations on her own head if she wouldn't have her rights.

Every now and then between the bursts of the storm Andy would exclaim,
"Get out!"

"My lord," said Dick, "remember your dignity."

"Av coorse!" said Andy; "but still she must get out!"

The house was at last cleared of the uproarious party; but though Andy got
rid of their presence, they left their sting behind. Lord Scatterbrain
felt, for the first time, that a lord can be very unhappy.

Dick hurried him away at once to the chambers of the law agent, but he,
being closeted on some very important business with another client on
their arrival, returned an answer to their application for a conference,
which they forwarded through the double doors of this sanctum by a hard-
looking man with a pen behind his ear, that he could not have the pleasure
of seeing them till the next morning. Lord Scatterbrain passed a more
unhappy night than he had ever done in his life--even than that when he
was tied up to the old tree--croaked at by ravens, and the despised of
rats.

Negotiations were opened the next day between the pettifogger on
Bridget's side and the law agent of the noble lord, and the arguments,
_pro and con.,_ lay thus:

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