The Absentee Read Free

whom,
in her letters, she had spoken so much, and into whose society, or
rather into whose parties, she had been admitted. He saw that the
renegade cowardice, with which she denied, abjured, and reviled her own
country, gained nothing but ridicule and contempt. He loved his mother;
and, whilst he endeavoured to conceal her faults and foibles as much as
possible from his own heart, he could not endure those who dragged them
to light and ridicule. The next morning the first thing that occurred
to Lord Colambre's remembrance when he awoke was the sound of the
contemptuous emphasis which had been laid on the words IRISH ABSENTEES!
This led to recollections of his native country, to comparisons of past
and present scenes, to future plans of life. Young and careless as he
seemed, Lord Colambre was capable of serious reflection. Of naturally
quick and strong capacity, ardent affections, impetuous temper, the
early years of his childhood passed at his father's castle in Ireland,
where, from the lowest servant to the well-dressed dependant of the
family, everybody had conspired to wait upon, to fondle, to flatter,
to worship, this darling of their lord. Yet he was not spoiled—not
rendered selfish. For, in the midst of this flattery and servility, some
strokes of genuine generous affection had gone home to his little heart;
and, though unqualified submission had increased the natural impetuosity
of his temper, and though visions of his future grandeur had touched his
infant thought, yet, fortunately, before he acquired any fixed habits of
insolence or tyranny, he was carried far away from all that were
bound or willing to submit to his commands, far away from all signs of
hereditary grandeur—plunged into one of our great public schools—into
a new world. Forced to struggle, mind and body, with his equals, his
rivals, the little lord became a spirited schoolboy, and, in time, a
man. Fortunately for him, science and literature happened to be the
fashion among a set of clever young men with whom he was at Cambridge.
His ambition for intellectual superiority was raised, his views were
enlarged, his tastes and his manners formed. The sobriety of English
good sense mixed most advantageously with Irish vivacity; English
prudence governed, but did not extinguish his Irish enthusiasm. But, in
fact, English and Irish had not been invidiously contrasted in his mind:
he had been so long resident in England, and so intimately connected
with Englishmen, that he was not obvious to any of the commonplace
ridicule thrown upon Hibernians; and he had lived with men who were too
well informed and liberal to misjudge or depreciate a sister country. He
had found, from experience, that, however reserved the English may be
in manner, they are warm at heart; that, however averse they may be from
forming new acquaintance, their esteem and confidence once gained, they
make the most solid friends. He had formed friendships in England;
he was fully sensible of the superior comforts, refinement, and
information, of English society; but his own country was endeared to him
by early association, and a sense of duty and patriotism attached him to
Ireland. And shall I too be an absentee? was a question which resulted
from these reflections—a question which he was not yet prepared to
answer decidedly. In the meantime, the first business of the morning was
to execute a commission for a Cambridge friend. Mr. Berryl had bought
from Mr. Mordicai, a famous London coachmaker, a curricle, WARRANTED
SOUND, for which he had paid a sound price, upon express condition that
Mr. Mordicai, BARRING ACCIDENTS, should be answerable for all repairs of
the curricle for six months. In three, both the carriage and body were
found to be good for nothing—the curricle had been returned to Mr.
Mordicai—nothing had since been heard of it, or from him—and Lord
Colambre had undertaken to pay him and it a visit, and to make all
proper inquiries. Accordingly, he went to the coachmaker's,