The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain: The Works of William Carleton, Volume OneCarleton, William
General
The Black Baronet; or, The Chronicles Of Ballytrain: The Works of William Carleton, Volume One
Carleton, William
Ireland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
On the second day of his arrival, and after he had in some degree
recovered from the effects of the voyage--by which, on the whole, he was
rather improved--he resolved to call upon Dunroe, in pursuance of a note
which he had written to him to that effect, being unwilling besides to
take him unawares. Before he arrives, however, we shall take the liberty
of looking in upon his lordship, and thus enable ourselves to form
some opinion of the materials which constituted that young nobleman's
character and habits.
The accessories to these habits, as exponents of his life and character,
were in admirable keeping with both, and a slight glance at them will be
sufficient for the reader.
His lordship, who kept a small establishment of his own, now lies in a
very elegantly furnished bedroom, with a table beside his bed, on which
are dressings for his wound, phials of medicines, some loose comedies,
and a volume still more objectionable in point both of taste and morals.
Beside him is a man, whether young or of the middle age it is difficult
to say. At the first glance, his general appearance, at least, seemed
rather juvenile, but after a second--and still more decidedly after a
third--it was evident to the spectator that he could not be under forty.
He was dressed in quite a youthful style, and in the very extreme
of fashion. This person's features were good, regular, absolutely
symmetrical; yet was there that in his countenance which you could not
relish. The face, on being examined, bespoke the life of a battered
rake; for although the complexion was or had been naturally good, it was
now set in too high a color for that of a young man, and was hardened
into a certain appearance which is produced on some features by the
struggle that takes place between dissipation and health. The usual
observation in such cases is--“with what a constitution has that man
been blessed on whose countenance the symptoms of a hard life are so
slightly perceptible.” The symptoms, however, are there in every case,
as they were on his. This man's countenance, we say, at the first
glance, was good, and his eye seemed indicative of great mildness
and benignity of heart--yet here, again, was a drawback, for, upon
a stricter examination of that organ, there might be read in it the
expression of a spirit that never permitted him to utter a single word
that was not associated with some selfish calculation. Add to this, that
it was unusually small and feeble, intimating duplicity and a want
of moral energy and candor. In the mere face, therefore, there was
something which you could not like, and which would have prejudiced
you, as if by instinct, against the man, were it not that the pliant
and agreeable tone of his conversation, in due time, made you forget
everything except the fact that Tom Norton was a most delightful fellow,
with not a bit of selfishness about him, but a warm and friendly wish to
oblige and serve every one of his acquaintances, as far as he could, and
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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