The Absentee [123]
said Lord Colambre.
'He is a miser, and he is not a miser,' said the woman. 'Now he'd think as much of the waste of a penny as another man would of a hundred pounds, and yet be would give a hundred pounds easier than another would give a penny, when he's in the humour. But his humour is very odd, and there's no knowing where to have him; he's gross-grained, and more POSITIVER-like than a mule; and his deafness made him worse in this, because he never heard what nobody said, but would say on his own way--he was very ODD but not CRACKED--no, he was as clear-headed, when he took a thing the right way, as any man could be, and as clever, and could talk as well as any member of Parliament,--and good-natured, and kind- hearted, where he would take a fancy--but then, maybe, it would be to a dog (he was remarkable fond of dogs), or a cat, or a rat even, that he would take a fancy, and think more of 'em than he would of a Christian. But, Poor gentleman, there's great allowance,' said she, 'to be made for him, that lost his son and heir--that would have been heir to all, and a fine youth that he doted upon. But,' continued the old woman, in whose mind the transitions from GREAT to little, from serious to trivial, were ludicrously abrupt, 'that was no reason why the old gentleman should scold me last time he was here, as he did, for as long as ever he could stand over me, only because I killed a mouse who was eating my cheese; and, before night, he beat a boy for stealing a piece of that same cheese; and he would never, when down here, let me set a mouse-trap.'
'Well, my good woman,' interrupted Lord Colambre, who was little interested in this affair of the mouse-trap, and nowise curious to learn more of Mr. Reynolds's domestic economy, 'I'll not trouble you any farther, if you can be so good as to tell me the road to Toddrington, or to Little Wickham, I think you call it.'
Little Wickham!' repeated the woman, laughing--' Bless you, sir, where do you come from?--It's Little Wrestham; surely everybody knows, near Lantry; and keep the PIKE till you come to the turn at Rotherford, and then you strike off into the by-road to the left, and then again turn at the ford to the right. But, if you are going to Toddrington, you don't go the road to market, which is at the first turn to the left, and the cross-country road, where there's no quarter, and Toddrington lies--but for Wrestham, you take the road to market.'
It was some time before our hero could persuade the old woman to stick to Little Wrestham, or to Toddrington, and not to mix the directions for the different roads together--he took patience, for his impatience only confused his director the more. In process of time, he made out, and wrote down, the various turns that he was to follow, to reach Little Wrestham; but no human power could get her from Little Wrestham to Toddrington, though she knew the road perfectly well; but she had, for the seventeen last years, been used to go 'the other road,' and all the carriers went that way, and passed the door, and that was all she could certify.
Little Wrestham, after turning to the left and right as often as his directory required, our hero happily reached; but, unhappily, he found no Mr. Reynolds there; only a steward, who gave nearly the same account of his master as had been given by the old woman, and could not guess even where the gentleman might now be. Toddrington was as likely as any place--but he could not say.
'Perseverance against fortune.' To Toddrington our hero proceeded, through cross-country roads--such roads!--very different from the Irish roads. Waggon ruts, into which the carriage wheels sunk nearly to the nave--and, from time to time, 'sloughs of despond,' through which it seemed impossible to drag, walk, wade, or swim, and all the time with a sulky postillion. 'Oh, how unlike my Larry!' thought Lord Colambre.
At length, in a very narrow lane, going up a hill, said to be two miles of ascent, they overtook a heavy laden waggon, and they were obliged to go step by step behind it, whilst, enjoying
'He is a miser, and he is not a miser,' said the woman. 'Now he'd think as much of the waste of a penny as another man would of a hundred pounds, and yet be would give a hundred pounds easier than another would give a penny, when he's in the humour. But his humour is very odd, and there's no knowing where to have him; he's gross-grained, and more POSITIVER-like than a mule; and his deafness made him worse in this, because he never heard what nobody said, but would say on his own way--he was very ODD but not CRACKED--no, he was as clear-headed, when he took a thing the right way, as any man could be, and as clever, and could talk as well as any member of Parliament,--and good-natured, and kind- hearted, where he would take a fancy--but then, maybe, it would be to a dog (he was remarkable fond of dogs), or a cat, or a rat even, that he would take a fancy, and think more of 'em than he would of a Christian. But, Poor gentleman, there's great allowance,' said she, 'to be made for him, that lost his son and heir--that would have been heir to all, and a fine youth that he doted upon. But,' continued the old woman, in whose mind the transitions from GREAT to little, from serious to trivial, were ludicrously abrupt, 'that was no reason why the old gentleman should scold me last time he was here, as he did, for as long as ever he could stand over me, only because I killed a mouse who was eating my cheese; and, before night, he beat a boy for stealing a piece of that same cheese; and he would never, when down here, let me set a mouse-trap.'
'Well, my good woman,' interrupted Lord Colambre, who was little interested in this affair of the mouse-trap, and nowise curious to learn more of Mr. Reynolds's domestic economy, 'I'll not trouble you any farther, if you can be so good as to tell me the road to Toddrington, or to Little Wickham, I think you call it.'
Little Wickham!' repeated the woman, laughing--' Bless you, sir, where do you come from?--It's Little Wrestham; surely everybody knows, near Lantry; and keep the PIKE till you come to the turn at Rotherford, and then you strike off into the by-road to the left, and then again turn at the ford to the right. But, if you are going to Toddrington, you don't go the road to market, which is at the first turn to the left, and the cross-country road, where there's no quarter, and Toddrington lies--but for Wrestham, you take the road to market.'
It was some time before our hero could persuade the old woman to stick to Little Wrestham, or to Toddrington, and not to mix the directions for the different roads together--he took patience, for his impatience only confused his director the more. In process of time, he made out, and wrote down, the various turns that he was to follow, to reach Little Wrestham; but no human power could get her from Little Wrestham to Toddrington, though she knew the road perfectly well; but she had, for the seventeen last years, been used to go 'the other road,' and all the carriers went that way, and passed the door, and that was all she could certify.
Little Wrestham, after turning to the left and right as often as his directory required, our hero happily reached; but, unhappily, he found no Mr. Reynolds there; only a steward, who gave nearly the same account of his master as had been given by the old woman, and could not guess even where the gentleman might now be. Toddrington was as likely as any place--but he could not say.
'Perseverance against fortune.' To Toddrington our hero proceeded, through cross-country roads--such roads!--very different from the Irish roads. Waggon ruts, into which the carriage wheels sunk nearly to the nave--and, from time to time, 'sloughs of despond,' through which it seemed impossible to drag, walk, wade, or swim, and all the time with a sulky postillion. 'Oh, how unlike my Larry!' thought Lord Colambre.
At length, in a very narrow lane, going up a hill, said to be two miles of ascent, they overtook a heavy laden waggon, and they were obliged to go step by step behind it, whilst, enjoying