Castle Richmond | Page 5

1843, he was regarded as a rich
man to that extent.
At that time he was some twenty-two years of age, and he came down
from Dublin, where his friends had intended that he should practise as a
barrister, to set up for himself as a country gentleman. Hap House was
distant from Castle Richmond about four miles, standing also on the
river Blackwater, but nearer to Mallow. It was a pleasant, comfortable
residence, too large no doubt for such a property, as is so often the case
in Ireland; surrounded by pleasant grounds and pleasant gardens, with a
gorse fox covert belonging to the place within a mile of it, with a slated
lodge, and a pretty drive along the river. At the age of twenty-two,
Owen Fitzgerald came into all this; and as he at once resided upon the
place, he came in also for the good graces of all the mothers with
unmarried daughters in the county, and for the smiles also of many of
the daughters themselves.
Sir Thomas and Lady Fitzgerald were not his uncle and aunt, but
nevertheless they took kindly to him;--very kindly at first, though that
kindness after a while became less warm. He was the nearest relation of
the name; and should anything happen--as the fatal death-foretelling
phrase goes--to young Herbert Fitzgerald, he would become the heir of
the family title and of the family place.
When I hear of a young man sitting down by himself as the master of a
household, without a wife, or even without a mother or sister to guide
him, I always anticipate danger. If he does not go astray in any other
way, he will probably mismanage his money matters. And then there
are so many other ways. A house, if it be not made pleasant by

domestic pleasant things, must be made pleasant by pleasure. And a
bachelor's pleasures in his own house are always dangerous. Thre is too
much wine drunk at his dinner parties. His guests sit too long over their
cards. The servants know that they want a mistress; and, in the absence
of that mistress, the language of the household becomes loud and
harsh--and sometimes improper. Young men among us seldom go quite
straight in their course, unless they are, at any rate occasionally,
brought under the influence of tea and small talk.
There was no tea and small talk at Hap House, but there were
hunting-dinners. Owen Fitzgerald was soon known for his horses and
his riding. He lived in the very centre of the Duhallow hunt; and before
he had been six months owner of his property had built additional
stables, with half a dozen loose boxes for his friends' nags. He had an
eye, too, for a pretty girl--not always in the way that is approved of by
mothers with marriageable daughters; but in the way of which they so
decidedly disapprove.
And thus old ladies began to say bad things. Those pleasant
hunting-dinners were spoken of as the Hap House orgies. It was
declared that men slept there half the day, having played cards all the
night; and dreadful tales were told. Of these tales one-half was
doubtless false. But, alas, alas! what if one-half were also true?
It is undoubtedly a very dangerous thing for a young man of
twenty-two to keep house by himself, either in town or country.

CHAPTER II
OWEN FITZGERALD

I have tied myself down to thirteen years ago as the time of my story;
but I must go back a little beyond this for its first scenes, and work my
way up as quickly as may be to the period indicated. I have spoken of a
winter in which Herbert Fitzgerald was at home at Castle Richmond,
having then completed his Oxford doings; but I must say something of
two years previous to that, of a time when Herbert was not so well
known in the country as was his cousin of Hap House.

It was a thousand pities that a bad word should ever have been spoken
of Owen Fitzgerald; ten thousand pities that he should ever have given
occasion for such bad word. He was a fine, high-spirited, handsome
fellow, with a loving heart within his breast, and bright thoughts within
his brain. It was utterly wrong that a man constituted as he was should
commence life by living alone in a large country-house. But those who
spoke ill of him should have remembered that this was his misfortune
rather than his fault. Some greater endeavour might perhaps have been
made to rescue him from evil ways. Very little such endeavour was
made at all. Sir Thomas once or twice spoke to him; but Sir Thomas
was not an energetic man; and as for Lady Fitzgerald, though