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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16804-8.txt b/16804-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..607ca0c --- /dev/null +++ b/16804-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7654 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, An Eye for an Eye, by Anthony Trollope + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Eye for an Eye + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: October 6, 2005 [eBook #16804] +Most recently updated: January 25, 2017 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EYE FOR AN EYE*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +Editorial note + +This book is about the seduction of a young girl by the heir to an +earldom, the resulting illegitimate pregnancy, and the young nobleman's +struggle to decide whether to marry or to abandon the girl--certainly +not the usual content of Victorian novels. + +Trollope is believed to have written _An Eye for an Eye_ in 1870, but +he did not publish it until the fall of 1878, when it appeared in +serial form in the _Whitehall Review_, followed by publication of the +entire book in 1879. The reason for delaying publication is unknown, +although Trollope might have been concerned about the book's reception +by the public, given its subject matter and the hostile reception in +1853 of Elizabeth Gaskell's _Ruth_, which dealt with the same subject. + + + + + +AN EYE FOR AN EYE + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + +1879 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + VOLUME I. + + INTRODUCTION + I. SCROOPE MANOR + II. FRED NEVILLE + III. SOPHIE MELLERBY + IV. JACK NEVILLE + V. ARDKILL COTTAGE + VI. I'LL GO BAIL SHE LIKES IT + VII. FATHER MARTY'S HOSPITALITY + VIII. I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO + IX. FRED NEVILLE RETURNS TO SCROOPE + X. FRED NEVILLE'S SCHEME + XI. THE WISDOM OF JACK NEVILLE + XII. FRED NEVILLE MAKES A PROMISE + + VOLUME II. + + I. FROM BAD TO WORSE + II. IS SHE TO BE YOUR WIFE? + III. FRED NEVILLE RECEIVES A VISITOR AT ENNIS + IV. NEVILLE'S SUCCESS + V. FRED NEVILLE IS AGAIN CALLED HOME TO SCROOPE + VI. THE EARL OF SCROOPE IS IN TROUBLE + VII. SANS REPROCHE + VIII. LOOSE ABOUT THE WORLD + IX. AT LISCANNOR + X. AT ARDKILL + XI. ON THE CLIFFS + XII. CONCLUSION + + + + + +VOLUME I. + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +At a private asylum in the west of England there lives, and has lived +for some years past, an unfortunate lady, as to whom there has long +since ceased to be any hope that she should ever live elsewhere. Indeed, +there is no one left belonging to her by whom the indulgence of such a +hope on her behalf could be cherished. Friends she has none; and her +own condition is such, that she recks nothing of confinement and does +not even sigh for release. And yet her mind is ever at work,--as is +doubtless always the case with the insane. She has present to her, +apparently in every waking moment of her existence, an object of intense +interest, and at that she works with a constancy which never wearies +herself, however fatiguing it may be to those who are near her. She is +ever justifying some past action of her life. "An eye for an eye," she +says, "and a tooth for a tooth. Is it not the law?" And these words she +will repeat daily, almost from morn till night. + +It has been said that this poor lady has no friends. Friends who would +be anxious for her recovery, who would care to see her even in her +wretched condition, who might try to soothe her harassed heart with +words of love, she has none. Such is her condition now, and her +temperament, that it may be doubted whether any words of love, however +tender, could be efficacious with her. She is always demanding +justification, and as those who are around her never thwart her she has +probably all the solace which kindness could give her. + +But, though she has no friends--none who love her,--she has all the +material comfort which friendship or even love could supply. All that +money can do to lessen her misery, is done. The house in which she lives +is surrounded by soft lawns and secluded groves. It has been prepared +altogether for the wealthy, and is furnished with every luxury which +it may be within the power of a maniac to enjoy. This lady has her own +woman to attend her; and the woman, though stout and masterful, is +gentle in language and kind in treatment. "An eye for an eye, ma'am. Oh, +certainly. That is the law. An eye for an eye, no doubt." This formula +she will repeat a dozen times a day--ay, a dozen dozen times, till the +wonder is that she also should not be mad. + +The reader need not fear that he is to be asked to loiter within the +precincts of an asylum for the insane. Of this abode of wretchedness no +word more shall be said; but the story shall be told of the lady who +dwelt there,--the story of her life till madness placed her within those +walls. That story was known to none at the establishment but to him who +was its head. Others there, who were cognisant of the condition of the +various patients, only knew that from quarter to quarter the charges for +this poor lady's custody were defrayed by the Earl of Scroope. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SCROOPE MANOR. + + +Some years ago, it matters not how many, the old Earl of Scroope lived +at Scroope Manor in Dorsetshire. The house was an Elizabethan structure +of some pretensions, but of no fame. It was not known to sight-seers, +as are so many of the residences of our nobility and country gentlemen. +No days in the week were appointed for visiting its glories, nor was +the housekeeper supposed to have a good thing in perquisites from +showing it. It was a large brick building facing on to the village +street,--facing the village, if the hall-door of a house be the main +characteristic of its face; but with a front on to its own grounds from +which opened the windows of the chief apartments. The village of Scroope +consisted of a straggling street a mile in length, with the church and +parsonage at one end, and the Manor-house almost at the other. But +the church stood within the park; and on that side of the street, for +more than half its length, the high, gloomy wall of the Earl's domain +stretched along in face of the publicans, bakers, grocers, two butchers, +and retired private residents whose almost contiguous houses made +Scroope itself seem to be more than a village to strangers. Close to the +Manor and again near to the church, some favoured few had been allowed +to build houses and to cultivate small gardens taken, as it were, in +notches out of the Manor grounds; but these tenements must have been +built at a time in which landowners were very much less jealous than +they are now of such encroachments from their humbler neighbours. + +The park itself was large, and the appendages to it such as were fit +for an Earl's establishment;--but there was little about it that was +attractive. The land lay flat, and the timber, which was very plentiful, +had not been made to group itself in picturesque forms. There was the +Manor wood, containing some five hundred acres, lying beyond the church +and far back from the road, intersected with so-called drives, which +were unfit for any wheels but those of timber waggons;--and round the +whole park there was a broad belt of trees. Here and there about the +large enclosed spaces there stood solitary oaks, in which the old Earl +took pride; but at Scroope Manor there was none of that finished +landscape beauty of which the owners of "places" in England are so +justly proud. + +The house was large, and the rooms were grand and spacious. There was an +enormous hall into one corner of which the front door opened. There was +a vast library filled with old books which no one ever touched,--huge +volumes of antiquated and now all but useless theology, and folio +editions of the least known classics,--such as men now never read. Not a +book had been added to it since the commencement of the century, and it +may almost be said that no book had been drawn from its shelves for real +use during the same period. There was a suite of rooms,--a salon with +two withdrawing rooms which now were never opened. The big dining-room +was used occasionally, as, in accordance with the traditions of the +family, dinner was served there whenever there were guests at the Manor. +Guests, indeed, at Scroope Manor were not very frequent;--but Lady +Scroope did occasionally have a friend or two to stay with her; and +at long intervals the country clergymen and neighbouring squires were +asked, with their wives, to dinner. When the Earl and his Countess were +alone they used a small breakfast parlour, and between this and the big +dining-room there was the little chamber in which the Countess usually +lived. The Earl's own room was at the back, or if the reader pleases, +front of the house, near the door leading into the street, and was, of +all rooms in the house, the gloomiest. + +The atmosphere of the whole place was gloomy. There were none of those +charms of modern creation which now make the mansions of the wealthy +among us bright and joyous. There was not a billiard table in the +house. There was no conservatory nearer than the large old-fashioned +greenhouse, which stood away by the kitchen garden and which seemed to +belong exclusively to the gardener. The papers on the walls were dark +and sombre. The mirrors were small and lustreless. The carpets were old +and dingy. The windows did not open on to the terrace. The furniture was +hardly ancient, but yet antiquated and uncomfortable. Throughout the +house, and indeed throughout the estate, there was sufficient evidence +of wealth; and there certainly was no evidence of parsimony; but at +Scroope Manor money seemed never to have produced luxury. The household +was very large. There was a butler, and a housekeeper, and various +footmen, and a cook with large wages, and maidens in tribes to wait upon +each other, and a colony of gardeners, and a coachman, and a head-groom, +and under-grooms. All these lived well under the old Earl, and knew the +value of their privileges. There was much to get, and almost nothing +to do. A servant might live for ever at Scroope Manor,--if only +sufficiently submissive to Mrs. Bunce the housekeeper. There was +certainly no parsimony at the Manor, but the luxurious living of the +household was confined to the servants' department. + +To a stranger, and perhaps also to the inmates, the idea of gloom about +the place was greatly increased by the absence of any garden or lawn +near the house. Immediately in front of the mansion, and between it and +the park, there ran two broad gravel terraces, one above another; and +below these the deer would come and browse. To the left of the house, +at nearly a quarter of a mile distant from it, there was a very large +garden indeed,--flower-gardens, and kitchen-gardens, and orchards; all +ugly, and old-fashioned, but producing excellent crops in their kind. +But they were away, and were not seen. Oat flowers were occasionally +brought into the house,--but the place was never filled with flowers +as country houses are filled with them now-a-days. No doubt had Lady +Scroope wished for more she might have had more. + +Scroope itself, though a large village, stood a good deal out of the +world. Within the last year or two a railway has been opened, with a +Scroope Road Station, not above three miles from the place; but in +the old lord's time it was eleven miles from its nearest station, at +Dorchester, with which it had communication once a day by an omnibus. +Unless a man had business with Scroope nothing would take him there; and +very few people had business with Scroope. Now and then a commercial +traveller would visit the place with but faint hopes as to trade. A +post-office inspector once in twelve months would call upon plethoric +old Mrs. Applejohn, who kept the small shop for stationery, and was +known as the postmistress. The two sons of the vicar, Mr. Greenmarsh, +would pass backwards and forwards between their father's vicarage and +Marlbro' school. And occasionally the men and women of Scroope would +make a journey to their county town. But the Earl was told that old Mrs. +Brock of the Scroope Arms could not keep the omnibus on the road unless +he would subscribe to aid it. Of course he subscribed. If he had been +told by his steward to subscribe to keep the cap on Mrs. Brock's head, +he would have done so. Twelve pounds a year his Lordship paid towards +the omnibus, and Scroope was not absolutely dissevered from the world. + +The Earl himself was never seen out of his own domain, except when +he attended church. This he did twice every Sunday in the year, the +coachman driving him there in the morning and the head-groom in the +afternoon. Throughout the household it was known to be the Earl's +request to his servants that they would attend divine service at least +once every Sunday. None were taken into service but they who were or +who called themselves members of the Church Establishment. It is hardly +probable that many dissenters threw away the chance of such promotion on +any frivolous pretext of religion. Beyond this request, which, coming +from the mouth of Mrs. Bunce, became very imperative, the Earl hardly +ever interfered with his domestics. His own valet had attended him for +the last thirty years; but, beyond his valet and the butler, he hardly +knew the face of one of them. There was a gamekeeper at Scroope Manor, +with two under-gamekeepers; and yet, for, some years, no one, except the +gamekeepers, had ever shot over the lands. Some partridges and a few +pheasants were, however, sent into the house when Mrs. Bunce, moved to +wrath, would speak her mind on that subject. + +The Earl of Scroope himself was a tall, thin man, something over seventy +at the time of which I will now begin to speak. His shoulders were much +bent, but otherwise he appeared to be younger than his age. His hair was +nearly white, but his eyes were still bright, and the handsome well-cut +features of his fine face were not reduced to shapelessness by any of +the ravages of time, as is so often the case with men who are infirm as +well as old. Were it not for the long and heavy eyebrows, which gave +something of severity to his face, and for that painful stoop in his +shoulders, he might still have been accounted a handsome man. In youth +he had been a very handsome man, and had shone forth in the world, +popular, beloved, respected, with all the good things the world could +give. The first blow upon him was the death of his wife. That hurt him +sorely, but it did not quite crush him. Then his only daughter died +also, just as she became a bride. High as the Lady Blanche Neville +had stood herself, she had married almost above her rank, and her +father's heart had been full of joy and pride. But she had perished +childless,--in child-birth, and again he was hurt almost to death. There +was still left to him a son,--a youth indeed thoughtless, lavish, and +prone to evil pleasures. But thought would come with years; for almost +any lavishness there were means sufficient; and evil pleasures might +cease to entice. The young Lord Neville was all that was left to the +Earl, and for his heir he paid debts and forgave injuries. The young +man would marry and all might be well. Then he found a bride for his +boy,--with no wealth, but owning the best blood in the kingdom, beautiful, +good, one who might be to him as another daughter. His boy's answer was +that he was already married! He had chosen his wife from out of the +streets, and offered to the Earl of Scroope as a child to replace the +daughter who had gone, a wretched painted prostitute from France. After +that Lord Scroope never again held up his head. + +The father would not see his heir,--and never saw him again. As to what +money might be needed, the lawyers in London were told to manage that. +The Earl himself would give nothing and refuse nothing. When there were +debts,--debts for the second time, debts for the third time, the lawyers +were instructed to do what in their own eyes seemed good to them. They +might pay as long as they deemed it right to pay, but they might not +name Lord Neville to his father. + +While things were thus the Earl married again,--the penniless daughter +of a noble house,--a woman not young, for she was forty when he married +her, but more than twenty years his junior. It sufficed for him that she +was noble, and as he believed good. Good to him she was,--with a duty +that was almost excessive. Religious she was, and self-denying; giving +much and demanding little; keeping herself in the background, but +possessing wonderful energy in the service of others. Whether she could +in truth be called good the reader may say when he has finished this +story. + +Then, when the Earl had been married some three years to his second +wife, the heir died. He died, and as far as Scroope Manor was concerned +there was an end of him and of the creature he had called his wife. +An annuity was purchased for her. That she should be entitled to call +herself Lady Neville while she lived, was the sad necessity of the +condition. It was understood by all who came near the Earl that no one +was to mention her within his hearing. He was thankful that no heir had +come from that most horrid union. The woman was never mentioned to him +again, nor need she trouble us further in the telling of our chronicle. + +But when Lord Neville died, it was necessary that the old man should +think of his new heir. Alas; in that family, though there was much that +was good and noble, there had ever been intestine feuds,--causes of +quarrel in which each party would be sure that he was right. They were +a people who thought much of the church, who were good to the poor, who +strove to be noble;--but they could not forgive injuries. They could +not forgive even when there were no injuries. The present Earl had +quarrelled with his brother in early life;--and had therefore quarrelled +with all that had belonged to the brother. The brother was now gone, +leaving two sons behind him,--two young Nevilles, Fred and Jack, of whom +Fred, the eldest, was now the heir. It was at last settled that Fred +should be sent for to Scroope Manor. Fred came, being at that time a +lieutenant in a cavalry regiment,--a fine handsome youth of five and +twenty, with the Neville eyes and Neville finely cut features. Kindly +letters passed between the widowed mother and the present Lady Scroope; +and it was decided at last, at his own request, that he should remain +one year longer in the army, and then be installed as the eldest son at +Scroope Manor. Again the lawyer was told to do what was proper in regard +to money. + +A few words more must be said of Lady Scroope, and then the preface to +our story will be over. She too was an Earl's daughter, and had been +much loved by our Earl's first wife. Lady Scroope had been the elder by +ten years; but yet they had been dear friends, and Lady Mary Wycombe had +passed many months of her early life amidst the gloom of the great rooms +at Scroope Manor. She had thus known the Earl well before she consented +to marry him. She had never possessed beauty,--and hardly grace. She was +strong featured, tall, with pride clearly written in her face. A reader +of faces would have declared at once that she was proud of the blood +which ran in her veins. She was very proud of her blood, and did in +truth believe that noble birth was a greater gift than any wealth. She +was thoroughly able to look down upon a parvenu millionaire,--to look +down upon such a one and not to pretend to despise him. When the Earl's +letter came to her asking her to share his gloom, she was as poor as +Charity,--dependent on a poor brother who hated the burden of such +claim. But she would have wedded no commoner, let his wealth and age +have been as they might. She knew Lord Scroope's age, and she knew the +gloom of Scroope Manor;--and she became his wife. To her of course was +told the story of the heir's marriage, and she knew that she could +expect no light, no joy in the old house from the scions of the rising +family. But now all this was changed, and it might be that she could +take the new heir to her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +FRED NEVILLE. + + +When Fred Neville first came to the Manor, the old Earl trembled when +called upon to receive him. Of the lad he had heard almost nothing,--of +his appearance literally nothing. It might be that his heir would be +meanly visaged, a youth of whom he would have cause to be ashamed, +one from whose countenance no sign of high blood would shine out; or, +almost worse, he also might have that look, half of vanity, and half +of vice, of which the father had gradually become aware in his own +son, and which in him had degraded the Neville beauty. But Fred, to +look at, was a gallant fellow,--such a youth as women love to see +about a house,--well-made, active, quick, self-asserting, fair-haired, +blue-eyed, short-lipped, with small whiskers, thinking but little of his +own personal advantages, but thinking much of his own way. As far as the +appearance of the young man went the Earl could not but be satisfied. +And to him, at any rate in this, the beginning of their connexion, Fred +Neville was modest and submissive. "You are welcome to Scroope," said +the old man, receiving him with stately urbanity in the middle of the +hall. "I am so much obliged to you, uncle," he said. "You are come to +me as a son, my boy,--as a son. It will be your own fault if you are +not a son to us in everything." Then in lieu of further words there +shone a tear in each of the young man's eyes, much more eloquent to the +Earl than could have been any words. He put his arm over his nephew's +shoulders, and in this guise walked with him into the room in which Lady +Scroope was awaiting them. "Mary," he said to his wife, "here is our +heir. Let him be a son to us." Then Lady Scroope took the young man +in her arms and kissed him. Thus auspiciously was commenced this new +connexion. + +The arrival was in September, and the game-keeper, with the under +gamekeeper, had for the last month been told to be on his mettle. Young +Mr. Neville was no doubt a sportsman. And the old groom had been warned +that hunters might be wanted in the stables next winter. Mrs. Bunce +was made to understand that liberties would probably be taken with the +house, such as had not yet been perpetrated in her time;--for the late +heir had never made the Manor his home from the time of his leaving +school. It was felt by all that great changes were to be effected,--and +it was felt also that the young man on whose behalf all this was to be +permitted, could not but be elated by his position. Of such elation, +however, there were not many signs. To his uncle, Fred Neville was, as +has been said, modest and submissive; to his aunt he was gentle but not +submissive. The rest of the household he treated civilly, but with none +of that awe which was perhaps expected from him. As for shooting, he +had come direct from his friend Carnaby's moor. Carnaby had forest +as well as moor, and Fred thought but little of partridges,--little +of such old-fashioned partridge-shooting as was prepared for him at +Scroope,--after grouse and deer. As for hunting in Dorsetshire, if his +uncle wished it,--why in that case he would think of it. According to +his ideas, Dorsetshire was not the best county in England for hunting. +Last year his regiment had been at Bristol and he had ridden with the +Duke's hounds. This winter he was to be stationed in Ireland, and he had +an idea that Irish hunting was good. If he found that his uncle made +a point of it, he would bring his horses to Scroope for a month at +Christmas. Thus he spoke to the head groom,--and thus he spoke also to +his aunt, who felt some surprise when he talked of Scotland and his +horses. She had thought that only men of large fortunes shot deer and +kept studs,--and perhaps conceived that the officers of the 20th Hussars +were generally engaged in looking after the affairs of their regiment, +and in preparation for meeting the enemy. + +Fred now remained a month at Scroope, and during that time there was but +little personal intercourse between him and his uncle in spite of the +affectionate greeting with which their acquaintance had been commenced. +The old man's habits of life were so confirmed that he could not bring +himself to alter them. Throughout the entire morning he would sit in +his own room alone. He would then be visited by his steward, his groom, +and his butler;--and would think that he gave his orders, submitting, +however, in almost every thing to them. His wife would sometimes sit +with him for half an hour, holding his hand, in moments of tenderness +unseen and unsuspected by all the world around them. Sometimes the +clergyman of the parish would come to him, so that he might know the +wants of the people. He would have the newspaper in his hands for +a while, and would daily read the Bible for an hour. Then he would +slowly write some letter, almost measuring every point which his pen +made,--thinking that thus he was performing his duty as a man of +business. Few men perhaps did less,--but what he did do was good; and +of self-indulgence there was surely none. Between such a one and the +young man who had now come to his house there could be but little real +connexion. + +Between Fred Neville and Lady Scroope there arose a much closer +intimacy. A woman can get nearer to a young man than can any old +man;--can learn more of his ways, and better understand his wishes. From +the very first there arose between them a matter of difference, as to +which there was no quarrel, but very much of argument. In that argument +Lady Scroope was unable to prevail. She was very anxious that the heir +should at once abandon his profession and sell out of the army. Of what +use could it be to him now to run after his regiment to Ireland, seeing +that undoubtedly the great duties of his life all centred at Scroope? +There were many discussions on the subject, but Fred would not give +way in regard to the next year. He would have this year, he said, to +himself;--and after that he would come and settle himself at Scroope. +Yes; no doubt he would marry as soon as he could find a fitting wife. Of +course it would be right that he should marry. He fully understood the +responsibilities of his position;--so he said, in answer to his aunt's +eager, scrutinising, beseeching questions. But as he had joined his +regiment, he thought it would be good for him to remain with it one year +longer. He particularly desired to see something of Ireland, and if he +did not do so now, he would never have the opportunity. Lady Scroope, +understanding well that he was pleading for a year of grace from the +dulness of the Manor, explained to him that his uncle would by no means +expect that he should remain always at Scroope. If he would marry, +the old London house should be prepared for him and his bride. He +might travel,--not, however, going very far afield. He might get into +Parliament; as to which, if such were his ambition, his uncle would give +him every aid. He might have his friends at Scroope Manor,--Carnaby and +all the rest of them. Every allurement was offered to him. But he had +commenced by claiming a year of grace, and to that claim he adhered. + +Could his uncle have brought himself to make the request in person, at +first, he might probably have succeeded;--and had he succeeded, there +would have been no story for us as to the fortunes of Scroope Manor. But +the Earl was too proud and perhaps too diffident to make the attempt. +From his wife he heard all that took place; and though he was grieved, +he expressed no anger. He could not feel himself justified in expressing +anger because his nephew chose to remain for yet a year attached to his +profession. "Who knows what may happen to him?" said the Countess. + +"Ah, indeed! But we are all in the hands of the Almighty." And the +Earl bowed his head. Lady Scroope, fully recognizing the truth of her +husband's pious ejaculation, nevertheless thought that human care might +advantageously be added to the divine interposition for which, as she +well knew, her lord prayed fervently as soon as the words were out of +his mouth. + +"But it would be so great a thing if he could be settled. Sophia +Mellerby has promised to come here for a couple of months in the winter. +He could not possibly do better than that." + +"The Mellerbys are very good people," said the Earl. "Her grandmother, +the duchess, is one of the very best women in England. Her mother, Lady +Sophia, is an excellent creature,--religious, and with the soundest +principles. Mr. Mellerby, as a commoner, stands as high as any man in +England." + +"They have held the same property since the wars of the roses. And then +I suppose the money should count for something," added the lady. + +Lord Scroope would not admit the importance of the money, but was quite +willing to acknowledge that were his heir to make Sophia Mellerby the +future Lady Scroope he would be content. But he could not interfere. +He did not think it wise to speak to young men on such a subject. He +thought that by doing so a young man might be rather diverted from than +attracted to the object in view. Nor would he press his wishes upon his +nephew as to next year. "Were I to ask it," he said, "and were he to +refuse me, I should be hurt. I am bound therefore to ask nothing that +is unreasonable." Lady Scroope did not quite agree with her husband +in this. She thought that as every thing was to be done for the young +man; as money almost without stint was to be placed at his command; as +hunting, parliament, and a house in London were offered to him;--as +the treatment due to a dear and only son was shown to him, he ought to +give something in return; but she herself, could say no more than she +had said, and she knew already that in those few matters in which her +husband had a decided will, he was not to be turned from it. + +It was arranged, therefore, that Fred Neville should join his regiment +at Limerick in October, and that he should come home to Scroope for a +fortnight or three weeks at Christmas. Sophia Mellerby was to be Lady +Scroope's guest at that time, and at last it was decided that Mrs. +Neville, who had never been seen by the Earl, should be asked to +come and bring with her her younger son, John Neville, who had been +successful in obtaining a commission in the Engineers. Other guests +should be invited, and an attempt should be made to remove the mantle +of gloom from Scroope Manor,--with the sole object of ingratiating the +heir. + +Early in October Fred went to Limerick, and from thence with a detached +troop of his regiment he was sent to the cavalry barracks at Ennis, the +assize town of the neighbouring County Clare. This was at first held to +be a misfortune by him, as Limerick is in all respects a better town +than Ennis, and in County Limerick the hunting is far from being bad, +whereas Clare is hardly a country for a Nimrod. But a young man, with +money at command, need not regard distances; and the Limerick balls and +the Limerick coverts were found to be equally within reach. From Ennis +also he could attend some of the Galway meets,--and then with no other +superior than a captain hardly older than himself to interfere with +his movements, he could indulge in that wild district the spirit of +adventure which was strong within him. When young men are anxious to +indulge the spirit of adventure, they generally do so by falling in love +with young women of whom their fathers and mothers would not approve. In +these days a spirit of adventure hardly goes further than this, unless +it take a young man to a German gambling table. + +When Fred left Scroope it was understood that he was to correspond +with his aunt. The Earl would have been utterly lost had he attempted +to write a letter to his nephew without having something special to +communicate to him. But Lady Scroope was more facile with her pen, +and it was rightly thought that the heir would hardly bring himself +to look upon Scroope as his home, unless some link were maintained +between himself and the place. Lady Scroope therefore wrote once a +week,--telling everything that there was to be told of the horses, the +game, and even of the tenants. She studied her letters, endeavouring to +make them light and agreeable,--such as a young man of large prospects +would like to receive from his own mother. He was "Dearest Fred," and +in one of those earliest written she expressed a hope that should any +trouble ever fall upon him he would come to her as to his dearest +friend. Fred was not a bad correspondent, and answered about every other +letter. His replies were short, but that was a matter of course. He was +"as jolly as a sandboy," "right as a trivet;" had had "one or two very +good things," and thought that upon the whole he liked Ennis better than +Limerick. "Johnstone is such a deuced good fellow!" Johnstone was the +captain of the 20th Hussars who happened to be stationed with him at +Limerick. Lady Scroope did not quite like the epithet, but she knew +that she had to learn to hear things to which she had hitherto not been +accustomed. + +This was all very well;--but Lady Scroope, having a friend in Co. Clare, +thought that she might receive tidings of the adopted one which would be +useful, and with this object she opened a correspondence with Lady Mary +Quin. Lady Mary Quin was a daughter of the Earl of Kilfenora, and was +well acquainted with all County Clare. She was almost sure to hear of +the doings of any officers stationed at Ennis, and would do so certainly +in regard to an officer that was specially introduced to her. Fred +Neville was invited to stay at Castle Quin as long as he pleased, and +actually did pass one night under its roof. But, unfortunately for him, +that spirit of adventure which he was determined to indulge led him into +the neighbourhood of Castle Quin when it was far from his intention to +interfere with the Earl or with Lady Mary, and thus led to the following +letter which Lady Scroope received about the middle of December,--just a +week before Fred's return to the Manor. + + + QUIN CASTLE, ENNISTIMON, + 14 December, 18--. + + MY DEAR LADY SCROOPE, + + Since I wrote to you before, Mr. Neville has been here once, and we + all liked him very much. My father was quite taken with him. He is + always fond of the young officers, and is not the less inclined to + be so of one who is so dear and near to you. I wish he would have + stayed longer, and hope that he shall come again. We have not much + to offer in the way of amusement, but in January and February there + is good snipe shooting. + + I find that Mr. Neville is very fond of shooting,--so much so that + before we knew anything of him except his name we had heard that he + had been on our coast after seals and sea birds. We have very high + cliffs near here,--some people say the highest in the world, and + there is one called the Hag's Head from which men get down and + shoot sea-gulls. He has been different times in our village of + Liscannor, and I think he has a boat there or at Lahinch. I believe + he has already killed ever so many seals. + + I tell you all this for a reason. I hope that it may come to + nothing, but I think that you ought to know. There is a widow lady + living not very far from Liscannor, but nearer up to the cliffs. + Her cottage is on papa's property, but I think she holds it from + somebody else. I don't like to say anything to papa about it. Her + name is Mrs. O'Hara, and she has a daughter. + + +When Lady Scroope had read so far, she almost let the paper drop from +her hand. Of course she knew what it all meant. An Irish Miss O'Hara! +And Fred Neville was spending his time in pursuit of this girl! Lady +Scroope had known what it would be when the young man was allowed to +return to his regiment in spite of the manifold duties which should have +bound him to Scroope Manor. + + + I have seen this young lady, + + +continued Lady Mary, + + + and she is certainly very pretty. But nobody knows anything about + them; and I cannot even learn whether they belong to the real + O'Haras. I should think not, as they are Roman Catholics. At + any rate Miss O'Hara can hardly be a fitting companion for Lord + Scroope's heir. I believe they are ladies, but I don't think that + any one knows them here, except the priest of Kilmacrenny. We never + could make out quite why they came here,--only that Father Marty + knows something about them. He is the priest of Kilmacrenny. She is + a very pretty girl, and I never heard a word against her;--but I + don't know whether that does not make it worse, because a young man + is so likely to get entangled. + + I daresay nothing shall come of it, and I'm sure I hope that + nothing may. But I thought it best to tell you. Pray do not let him + know that you have heard from me. Young men are so very particular + about things, and I don't know what he might say of me if he knew + that I had written home to you about his private affairs. All the + same if I can be of any service to you, pray let me know. Excuse + haste. And believe me to be, + + Yours most sincerely, + + MARY QUIN. + + +A Roman Catholic;--one whom no one knew but the priest;--a girl who +perhaps never had a father! All this was terrible to Lady Scroope. Roman +Catholics,--and especially Irish Roman Catholics,--were people whom, +as she thought, every one should fear in this world, and for whom +everything was to be feared in the next. How would it be with the Earl +if this heir also were to tell him some day that he was married? Would +not his grey hairs be brought to the grave with a double load of sorrow? +However, for the present she thought it better to say not a word to the +Earl. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +SOPHIE MELLERBY. + + +Lady Scroope thought a great deal about her friend's communication, but +at last made up her mind that she could do nothing till Fred should have +returned. Indeed she hardly knew what she could do when he did come +back. The more she considered it the greater seemed to her to be the +difficulty of doing anything. How is a woman, how is even a mother, to +caution a young man against the danger of becoming acquainted with a +pretty girl? She could not mention Miss O'Hara's name without mentioning +that of Lady Mary Quin in connexion with it. And when asked, as of +course she would be asked, as to her own information, what could she +say? She had been told that he had made himself acquainted with a widow +lady who had a pretty daughter, and that was all! When young men will +run into such difficulties, it is, alas, so very difficult to interfere +with them! + +And yet the matter was of such importance as to justify almost any +interference. A Roman Catholic Irish girl of whom nothing was known but +that her mother was said to be a widow, was, in Lady Scroope's eyes, as +formidable a danger as could come in the way of her husband's heir. Fred +Neville was, she thought, with all his good qualities, exactly the man +to fall in love with a wild Irish girl. If Fred were to write home some +day and say that he was about to marry such a bride,--or, worse again, +that he had married her, the tidings would nearly kill the Earl. After +all that had been endured, such a termination to the hopes of the family +would be too cruel! And Lady Scroope could not but feel the injustice of +it. Every thing was being done for this heir, for whom nothing need have +been done. He was treated as a son, but he was not a son. He was treated +with exceptional favour as a son. Everything was at his disposal. He +might marry and begin life at once with every want amply supplied, if +he would only marry such a woman as was fit to be a future Countess of +Scroope. Very little was required from him. He was not expected to marry +an heiress. An heiress indeed was prepared for him, and would be there, +ready for him at Christmas,--an heiress, beautiful, well-born, fit in +every respect,--religious too. But he was not to be asked to marry +Sophie Mellerby. He might choose for himself. There were other well-born +young women about the world,--duchesses' granddaughters in abundance! +But it was imperative that he should marry at least a lady, and at least +a Protestant. + +Lady Scroope felt very strongly that he should never have been allowed +to rejoin his regiment, when a home at Scroope was offered to him. He +was a free agent of course, and equally of course the title and the +property must ultimately be his. But something of a bargain might have +been made with him when all the privileges of a son were offered to him. +When he was told that he might have all Scroope to himself,--for it +amounted nearly to that; that he might hunt there and shoot there and +entertain his friends; that the family house in London should be given +up to him if he would marry properly; that an income almost without +limit should be provided for him, surely it would not have been too much +to demand that as a matter of course he should leave the army! But this +had not been done; and now there was an Irish Roman Catholic widow with +a daughter, with seal-shooting and a boat and high cliffs right in the +young man's way! Lady Scroope could not analyse it, but felt all the +danger as though it were by instinct. Partridge and pheasant shooting +on a gentleman's own grounds, and an occasional day's hunting with the +hounds in his own county, were, in Lady Scroope's estimation, becoming +amusements for an English gentleman. They did not interfere with the +exercise of his duties. She had by no means brought herself to like the +yearly raids into Scotland made latterly by sportsmen. But if Scotch +moors and forests were dangerous, what were Irish cliffs! Deer-stalking +was bad in her imagination. She was almost sure that when men went up +to Scotch forests they did not go to church on Sundays. But the idea of +seal-shooting was much more horrible. And then there was that priest who +was the only friend of the widow who had the daughter! + +On the morning of the day in which Fred was to reach the Manor, Lady +Scroope did speak to her husband. "Don't you think, my dear, that +something might be done to prevent Fred's returning to that horrid +country?" + +"What can we do?" + +"I suppose he would wish to oblige you. You are being very good to him." + +"It is for the old to give, Mary, and for the young to accept. I do all +for him because he is all to me; but what am I to him, that he should +sacrifice any pleasure for me? He can break my heart. Were I even to +quarrel with him, the worst I could do would be to send him to the +money-lenders for a year or two." + +"But why should he care about his regiment now?" + +"Because his regiment means liberty." + +"And you won't ask him to give it up?" + +"I think not. If I were to ask him I should expect him to yield, and +then I should be disappointed were he to refuse. I do not wish him to +think me a tyrant." This was the end of the conversation, for Lady +Scroope did not as yet dare to speak to the Earl about the widow and her +daughter. She must now try her skill and eloquence with the young man +himself. + +The young man arrived and was received with kindest greetings. Two +horses had preceded him, so that he might find himself mounted as soon +as he chose after his arrival, and two others were coming. This was all +very well, but his aunt was a little hurt when he declared his purpose +of going down to the stables just as she told him that Sophia Mellerby +was in the house. He arrived on the 23rd at 4 P.M., and it had been +declared that he was to hunt on the morrow. It was already dark, and +surely he might have been content on the first evening of his arrival to +abstain from the stables! Not a word had been said to Sophie Mellerby +of Lady Scroope's future hopes. Lady Scroope and Lady Sophia would each +have thought that it was wicked to do so. But the two women had been +fussy, and Miss Mellerby must have been less discerning than are young +ladies generally, had she not understood what was expected of her. Girls +are undoubtedly better prepared to fall in love with men whom they have +never seen, than are men with girls. It is a girl's great business in +life to love and to be loved. Of some young men it may almost be said +that it is their great business to avoid such a catastrophe. Such ought +not to have been the case with Fred Neville now;--but in such light he +regarded it. He had already said to himself that Sophie Mellerby was to +be pitched at his head. He knew no reason,--none as yet,--why he should +not like Miss Mellerby well enough. But he was a little on his guard +against her, and preferred seeing his horses first. Sophie, when +according to custom, and indeed in this instance in accordance with +special arrangement, she went into Lady Scroope's sitting-room for tea, +was rather disappointed at not finding Mr. Neville there. She knew that +he had visited his uncle immediately on his arrival, and having just +come in from the park she had gone to her room to make some little +preparation for the meeting. If it was written in Fate's book that she +was to be the next Lady Scroope, the meeting was important. Perhaps that +writing in Fate's book might depend on the very adjustment which she was +now making of her hair. + +"He has gone to look at his horses," said Lady Scroope, unable not to +shew her disappointment by the tone of her voice. + +"That is so natural," said Sophie, who was more cunning. "Young men +almost idolize their horses. I should like to go and see Dandy whenever +he arrives anywhere, only I don't dare!" Dandy was Miss Mellerby's own +horse, and was accustomed to make journeys up and down between Mellerby +and London. + +"I don't think horses and guns and dogs should be too much thought of," +said Lady Scroope gravely. "There is a tendency I think at present to +give them an undue importance. When our amusements become more serious +to us than our business, we must be going astray." + +"I suppose we always are going astray," said Miss Mellerby. Lady Scroope +sighed and shook her head; but in shaking it she shewed that she +completely agreed with the opinion expressed by her guest. + +As there were only two horses to be inspected, and as Fred Neville +absolutely refused the groom's invitation to look at the old carriage +horses belonging to the family, he was back in his aunt's room before +Miss Mellerby had gone upstairs to dress for dinner. The introduction +was made, and Fred did his best to make himself agreeable. He was such +a man that no girl could, at the first sight of him, think herself +injured by being asked to love him. She was a good girl, and would have +consented to marry no man without feeling sure of his affections; but +Fred Neville was bold and frank as well as handsome, and had plenty to +say for himself. It might be that he was vicious, or ill-tempered, or +selfish, and it would be necessary that she should know much of him +before she would give herself into his keeping; but as far as the first +sight went, and the first hearing, Sophie Mellerby's impressions were +all in Fred's favour. It is no doubt a fact that with the very best of +girls a man is placed in a very good light by being heir to a peerage +and a large property. + +"Do you hunt, Miss Mellerby?" he asked. She shook her head and looked +grave, and then laughed. Among her people hunting was not thought to be +a desirable accomplishment for young ladies. "Almost all girls do hunt +now," said Fred. + +"Do you think it is a nice amusement for young ladies?" asked the aunt +in a severe tone. + +"I don't see why not;--that is if they know how to ride." + +"I know how to ride," said Sophie Mellerby. + +"Riding is all very well," said Lady Scroope. "I quite approve of it +for girls. When I was young, everybody did not ride as they do now. +Nevertheless it is very well, and is thought to be healthy. But as for +hunting, Sophie, I'm sure your mamma would be very much distressed if +you were to think of such a thing." + +"But, dear Lady Scroope, I haven't thought of it, and I am not going to +think of it;--and if I thought of it ever so much, I shouldn't do it. +Poor mamma would be frightened into fits,--only that nobody at Mellerby +could possibly be made to believe it, unless they saw me doing it." + +"Then there can be no reason why you shouldn't make the attempt," said +Fred. Upon which Lady Scroope pretended to look grave, and told him that +he was very wicked. But let an old lady be ever so strict towards her +own sex, she likes a little wickedness in a young man,--if only he does +not carry it to the extent of marrying the wrong sort of young woman. + +Sophia Mellerby was a tall, graceful, well-formed girl, showing her high +blood in every line of her face. On her mother's side she had come from +the Ancrums, whose family, as everybody knows, is one of the oldest in +England; and, as the Earl had said, the Mellerbys had been Mellerbys +from the time of King John, and had been living on the same spot for +at least four centuries. They were and always had been Mellerbys of +Mellerby,--the very name of the parish being the same as that of the +family. If Sophia Mellerby did not shew breeding, what girl could shew +it? She was fair, with a somewhat thin oval face, with dark eyes, and +an almost perfect Grecian nose. Her mouth was small, and her chin +delicately formed. And yet it can hardly be said that she was beautiful. +Or, if beautiful, she was so in women's eyes rather than in those of +men. She lacked colour and perhaps animation in her countenance. She had +more character, indeed, than was told by her face, which is generally +so true an index of the mind. Her education had been as good as England +could afford, and her intellect had been sufficient to enable her to +make use of it. But her chief charm in the eyes of many consisted in the +fact, doubted by none, that she was every inch a lady. She was an only +daughter, too,--with an only brother; and as the Ancrums were all rich, +she would have a very pretty fortune of her own. Fred Neville, who had +literally been nobody before his cousin had died, might certainly do +much worse than marry her. + +And after a day or two they did seem to get on very well together. He +had reached Scroope on the 21st, and on the 23rd Mrs. Neville arrived +with her youngest son Jack Neville. This was rather a trial to the Earl, +as he had never yet seen his brother's widow. He had heard when his +brother married that she was fast, fond of riding, and loud. She had +been the daughter of a Colonel Smith, with whom his brother, at that +time a Captain Neville, had formed acquaintance;--and had been a beauty +very well known as such at Dublin and other garrison towns. No real harm +had ever been known of her, but the old Earl had always felt that his +brother had made an unfortunate marriage. As at that time they had not +been on speaking terms, it had not signified much;--but there had been a +prejudice at Scroope against the Captain's wife, which by no means died +out when the late Julia Smith became the Captain's widow with two sons. +Old reminiscences remain very firm with old people,--and Lord Scroope +was still much afraid of the fast, loud beauty. His principles told him +that he should not sever the mother from the son, and that as it suited +him to take the son for his own purposes, he should also, to some +extent, accept the mother also. But he dreaded the affair. He dreaded +Mrs. Neville; and he dreaded Jack, who had been so named after his +gallant grandfather, Colonel Smith. When Mrs. Neville arrived, she was +found to be so subdued and tame that she could hardly open her mouth +before the old Earl. Her loudness, if she ever had been loud, was +certainly all gone,--and her fastness, if ever she had been fast, had +been worn out of her. She was an old woman, with the relics of great +beauty, idolizing her two sons for whom all her life had been a +sacrifice, in weak health, and prepared, if necessary, to sit in silent +awe at the feet of the Earl who had been so good to her boy. + +"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done," she said, in a +low voice. + +"No thanks are required," said the Earl. "He is the same to us as if he +were our own." Then she raised the old man's hand and kissed it,--and +the old man owned to himself that he had made a mistake. + +As to Jack Neville--. But Jack Neville shall have another chapter opened +on his behalf. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +JACK NEVILLE. + + +John is a very respectable name;--perhaps there is no name more +respectable in the English language. Sir John, as the head of a family, +is certainly as respectable as any name can be. For an old family +coachman it beats all names. Mr. John Smith would be sure to have a +larger balance at his banker's than Charles Smith or Orlando Smith,--or +perhaps than any other Smith whatever. The Rev. Frederic Walker +might be a wet parson, but the Rev. John Walker would assuredly be +a good clergyman at all points, though perhaps a little dull in his +sermons. Yet almost all Johns have been Jacks, and Jack, in point of +respectability, is the very reverse of John. How it is, or when it +is, that the Jacks become re-Johned, and go back to the original and +excellent name given to them by their godfathers and godmothers, nobody +ever knows. Jack Neville, probably through some foolish fondness on his +mother's part, had never been re-Johned,--and consequently the Earl, +when he made up his mind to receive his sister-in-law, was at first +unwilling to invite his younger nephew. "But he is in the Engineers," +said Lady Scroope. The argument had its weight, and Jack Neville was +invited. But even that argument failed to obliterate the idea which had +taken hold of the Earl's mind. There had never yet been a Jack among the +Scroopes. + +When Jack came he was found to be very unlike the Nevilles in +appearance. In the first place he was dark, and in the next place he +was ugly. He was a tall, well-made fellow, taller than his brother, +and probably stronger; and he had very different eyes,--very dark +brown eyes, deeply set in his head, with large dark eyebrows. He wore +his black hair very short, and had no beard whatever. His features +were hard, and on one cheek he had a cicatrice, the remains of some +misfortune that had happened to him in his boyhood. But in spite of his +ugliness,--for he was ugly, there was much about him in his gait and +manner that claimed attention. Lord Scroope, the moment that he saw him, +felt that he ought not to be called Jack. Indeed the Earl was almost +afraid of him, and so after a time was the Countess. "Jack ought to have +been the eldest," Fred had said to his aunt. + +"Why should he have been the eldest?" + +"Because he is so much the cleverest. I could never have got into the +Engineers." + +"That seems to be a reason why he should be the youngest," said Lady +Scroope. + +Two or three other people arrived, and the house became much less +dull than was its wont. Jack Neville occasionally rode his brother's +horses, and the Earl was forced to acknowledge another mistake. The +mother was very silent, but she was a lady. The young Engineer was not +only a gentleman,--but for his age a very well educated gentleman, and +Lord Scroope was almost proud of his relatives. For the first week the +affair between Fred Neville and Miss Mellerby really seemed to make +progress. She was not a girl given to flirting,--not prone to outward +demonstrations of partiality for a young man; but she never withdrew +herself from her intended husband, and Fred seemed quite willing to +be attentive. Not a word was said to hurry the young people, and Lady +Scroope's hopes were high. Of course no allusion had been made to those +horrid Irish people, but it did not seem to Lady Scroope that the heir +had left his heart behind him in Co. Clare. + +Fred had told his aunt in one of his letters that he would stay three +weeks at Scroope, but she had not supposed that he would limit himself +exactly to that period. No absolute limit had been fixed for the visit +of Mrs. Neville and her younger son, but it was taken for granted that +they would not remain should Fred depart. As to Sophie Mellerby, her +visit was elastic. She was there for a purpose, and might remain all the +winter if the purpose could be so served. For the first fortnight Lady +Scroope thought that the affair was progressing well. Fred hunted three +days a week, and was occasionally away from home,--going to dine with +a regiment at Dorchester, and once making a dash up to London; but his +manner to Miss Mellerby was very nice, and there could be no doubt but +that Sophie liked him. When, on a sudden, the heir said a word to his +aunt which was almost equal to firing a pistol at her head. "I think +Master Jack is making it all square with Sophie Mellerby." + +If there was anything that Lady Scroope hated almost as much as improper +marriages it was slang. She professed that she did not understand it; +and in carrying out her profession always stopped the conversation to +have any word explained to her which she thought had been used in an +improper sense. The idea of a young man making it "all square" with a +young woman was repulsive, but the idea of this young man making it "all +square" with this young woman was so much more repulsive, and the misery +to her was so intensely heightened by the unconcern displayed by the +heir in so speaking of the girl with whom he ought to have been making +it "all square" himself, that she could hardly allow herself to be +arrested by that stumbling block. "Impossible!" she exclaimed,--"that is +if you mean,--if you mean,--if you mean anything at all." + +"I do mean a good deal." + +"Then I don't believe a word of it. It's quite out of the question. It's +impossible. I'm quite sure your brother understands his position as a +gentleman too thoroughly to dream of such a thing." + +This was Greek to Fred Neville. Why his brother should not fall in love +with a pretty girl, and why a pretty girl should not return the feeling, +without any disgrace to his brother, Fred could not understand. His +brother was a Neville, and was moreover an uncommonly clever fellow. +"Why shouldn't he dream of it?" + +"In the first place--. Well! I did think, Fred, that you yourself seemed +to be,--seemed to be taken with Miss Mellerby." + +"Who? I? Oh, dear no. She's a very nice girl and all that, and I like +her amazingly. If she were Jack's wife, I never saw a girl I should so +much like for a sister." + +"It is quite out of the question. I wonder that you can speak in such a +way. What right can your brother have to think of such a girl as Miss +Mellerby? He has no position;--no means." + +"He is my brother," said Fred, with a little touch of anger,--already +discounting his future earldom on his brother's behalf. + +"Yes;--he is your brother; but you don't suppose that Mr. Mellerby would +give his daughter to an officer in the Engineers who has, as far as I +know, no private means whatever." + +"He will have,--when my mother dies. Of course I can't speak of doing +anything for anybody at present. I may die before my uncle. Nothing is +more likely. But then, if I do, Jack would be my uncle's heir." + +"I don't believe there's anything in it at all," said Lady Scroope in +great dudgeon. + +"I dare say not. If there is, they haven't told me. It's not likely they +would. But I thought I saw something coming up, and as it seemed to be +the most natural thing in the world, I mentioned it. As for me,--Miss +Mellerby doesn't care a straw for me. You may be sure of that." + +"She would--if you'd ask her." + +"But I never shall ask her. What's the use of beating about the bush, +aunt? I never shall ask her; and if I did, she wouldn't have me. If you +want to make Sophie Mellerby your niece, Jack's your game." + +Lady Scroope was ineffably disgusted. To be told that "Jack was her +game" was in itself a terrible annoyance to her. But to be so told in +reference to such a subject was painful in the extreme. Of course she +could not make this young man marry as she wished. She had acknowledged +to herself from the first that there could be no cause of anger against +him should he not fall into the silken net which was spread for him. +Lady Scroope was not an unreasonable woman, and understood well the +power which young people have over old people. She knew that she +couldn't quarrel with Fred Neville, even if she would. He was the heir, +and in a very few years would be the owner of everything. In order +to keep him straight, to save him from debts, to protect him from +money-lenders, and to secure the family standing and property till he +should have made things stable by having a wife and heir of his own, all +manner of indulgence must be shown him. She quite understood that such a +horse must be ridden with a very light hand. She must put up with slang +from him, though she would resent it from any other human being. He must +be allowed to smoke in his bed-room, to be late at dinner, to shirk +morning prayers,--making her only too happy if he would not shirk Sunday +church also. Of course he must choose a bride for himself,--only not a +Roman Catholic wild Irish bride of whom nobody knew anything! + +As to that other matter concerning Jack and Sophie Mellerby, she could +not bring herself to believe it. She had certainly seen that they were +good friends,--as would have been quite fit had Fred been engaged to +her; but she had not conceived the possibility of any mistake on such a +subject. Surely Sophie herself knew better what she was about! How would +she,--she, Lady Scroope,--answer it to Lady Sophia, if Sophie should go +back to Mellerby from her house, engaged to a younger brother who had +nothing but a commission in the Engineers? Sophie had been sent to +Scroope on purpose to be fallen in love with by the heir; and how +would it be with Lady Scroope if, in lieu of this, she should not only +have been fallen in love with by the heir's younger brother, but have +responded favourably to so base an affection? + +That same afternoon Fred told his uncle that he was going back to +Ireland on the day but one following, thus curtailing his promised three +weeks by two days. "I am sorry that you are so much hurried, Fred," said +the old man. + +"So am I, my lord,--but Johnstone has to go to London on business, and I +promised when I got leave that I wouldn't throw him over. You see,--when +one has a profession one must attend to it,--more or less." + +"But you hardly need the profession." + +"Thank you, uncle;--it is very kind of you to say so. And as you wish me +to leave it, I will when the year is over. I have told the fellows that +I shall stay till next October, and I shouldn't like to change now." The +Earl hadn't another word to say. + +But on the day before Fred's departure there came a short note from Lady +Mary Quin which made poor Lady Scroope more unhappy than ever. Tidings +had reached her in a mysterious way that the O'Haras were eagerly +expecting the return of Mr. Neville. Lady Mary thought that if Mr. +Neville's quarters could be moved from Ennis, it would be very expedient +for many reasons. She knew that enquiries had been made for him and that +he was engaged to dine on a certain day with Father Marty the priest. +Father Marty would no doubt go any lengths to serve his friends the +O'Haras. Then Lady Mary was very anxious that not a word should be said +to Mr. Neville which might lead him to suppose that reports respecting +him were being sent from Quin Castle to Scroope. + +The Countess in her agony thought it best to tell the whole story to the +Earl. "But what can I do?" said the old man. "Young men will form these +acquaintances." His fears were evidently as yet less dark than those of +his wife. + +"It would be very bad if we were to hear that he was married to a girl +of whom we only know that she is a Roman Catholic and friendless." + +The Earl's brow became very black. "I don't think that he would treat me +in that way." + +"Not meaning it, perhaps;--but if he should become entangled and make a +promise!" + +Then the Earl did speak to his nephew. "Fred," he said, "I have been +thinking a great deal about you. I have little else to think of now. I +should take it as a mark of affection from you if you would give up the +army--at once." + +"And not join my regiment again at all?" + +"It is absurd that you should do so in your present position. You should +be here, and learn the circumstances of the property before it becomes +your own. There can hardly be more than a year or two left for the +lesson." + +The Earl's manner was very impressive. He looked into his nephew's face +as he spoke, and stood with his hand upon the young man's shoulder. +But Fred Neville was a Neville all over,--and the Nevilles had always +chosen to have their own way. He had not the power of intellect nor +the finished manliness which his brother possessed; but he could be as +obstinate as any Neville,--as obstinate as his father had been, or his +uncle. And in this matter he had arguments which his uncle could hardly +answer on the spur of the moment. No doubt he could sell out in proper +course, but at the present moment he was as much bound by military +law to return as would be any common soldier at the expiration of his +furlough. He must go back. That at any rate was certain. And if his +uncle did not much mind it, he would prefer to remain with his regiment +till October. + +Lord Scroope could not condescend to repeat his request, or even again +to allude to it. His whole manner altered as he took his hand away from +his nephew's shoulder. But still he was determined that there should +be no quarrel. As yet there was no ground for quarrelling,--and by any +quarrel the injury to him would be much greater than any that could +befall the heir. He stood for a moment and then he spoke again in a tone +very different from that he had used before. "I hope," he said,--and +then he paused again; "I hope you know how very much depends on your +marrying in a manner suitable to your position." + +"Quite so;--I think." + +"It is the one hope left to me to see you properly settled in life." + +"Marriage is a very serious thing, uncle. Suppose I were not to marry at +all! Sometimes I think my brother is much more like marrying than I am." + +"You are bound to marry," said the Earl solemnly. "And you are specially +bound by every duty to God and man to make no marriage that will be +disgraceful to the position which you are called upon to fill." + +"At any rate I will not do that," said Fred Neville proudly. From this +the Earl took some comfort, and then the interview was over. + +On the day appointed by himself Fred left the Manor, and his mother +and brother went on the following day. But after he was gone, on that +same afternoon, Jack Neville asked Sophie Mellerby to be his wife. She +refused him,--with all the courtesy she knew how to use, but also with +all the certainty. And as soon as he had left the house she told Lady +Scroope what had happened. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +ARDKILL COTTAGE. + + +The cliffs of Moher in Co. Clare, on the western coast of Ireland, are +not as well known to tourists as they should be. It may be doubted +whether Lady Mary Quin was right when she called them the highest cliffs +in the world, but they are undoubtedly very respectable cliffs, and run +up some six hundred feet from the sea as nearly perpendicular as cliffs +should be. They are beautifully coloured, streaked with yellow veins, +and with great masses of dark red rock; and beneath them lies the broad +and blue Atlantic. Lady Mary's exaggeration as to the comparative +height is here acknowledged, but had she said that below them rolls +the brightest bluest clearest water in the world she would not have +been far wrong. To the south of these cliffs there runs inland a broad +bay,--Liscannor bay, on the sides of which are two little villages, +Liscannor and Lahinch. At the latter, Fred Neville, since he had been +quartered at Ennis, had kept a boat for the sake of shooting seals +and exploring the coast,--and generally carrying out his spirit of +adventure. Not far from Liscannor was Castle Quin, the seat of the Earl +of Kilfenora; and some way up from Liscannor towards the cliffs, about +two miles from the village, there is a cottage called Ardkill. Here +lived Mrs. and Miss O'Hara. + +It was the nearest house to the rocks, from which it was distant less +than half a mile. The cottage, so called, was a low rambling long house, +but one storey high,--very unlike an English cottage. It stood in two +narrow lengths, the one running at right angles to the other; and +contained a large kitchen, two sitting rooms,--of which one was never +used,--and four or five bed-rooms of which only three were furnished. +The servant girl occupied one, and the two ladies the others. It was a +blank place enough,--and most unlike that sort of cottage which English +ladies are supposed to inhabit, when they take to cottage life. There +was no garden to it, beyond a small patch in which a few potatoes were +planted. It was so near to the ocean, so exposed to winds from the +Atlantic, that no shrubs would live there. Everything round it, even the +herbage, was impregnated with salt, and told tales of the neighbouring +waves. When the wind was from the west the air would be so laden with +spray that one could not walk there without being wet. And yet the place +was very healthy, and noted for the fineness of its air. Rising from the +cottage, which itself stood high, was a steep hill running up to the top +of the cliff, covered with that peculiar moss which the salt spray of +the ocean produces. On this side the land was altogether open, but a +few sheep were always grazing there when the wind was not so high as to +drive them to some shelter. Behind the cottage there was an enclosed +paddock which belonged to it, and in which Mrs. O'Hara kept her cow. +Roaming free around the house, and sometimes in it, were a dozen hens +and a noisy old cock which, with the cow, made up the total of the +widow's live stock. About a half a mile from the cottage on the way +to Liscannor there were half a dozen mud cabins which contained Mrs. +O'Hara's nearest neighbours,--and an old burying ground. Half a mile +further on again was the priest's house, and then on to Liscannor there +were a few other straggling cabins here and there along the road. + +Up to the cottage indeed there could hardly be said to be more than a +track, and beyond the cottage no more than a sheep path. The road coming +out from Liscannor was a real road as far as the burying ground, but +from thence onward it had degenerated. A car, or carriage if needed, +might be brought up to the cottage door, for the ground was hard and the +way was open. But no wheels ever travelled there now. The priest, when +he would come, came on horseback, and there was a shed in which he could +tie up his nag. He himself from time to time would send up a truss of +hay for his nag's use, and would think himself cruelly used because the +cow would find her way in and eat it. No other horse ever called at the +widow's door. What slender stores were needed for her use, were all +brought on the girls' backs from Liscannor. To the north of the cottage, +along the cliff, there was no road for miles, nor was there house or +habitation. Castle Quin, in which the noble but somewhat impoverished +Quin family lived nearly throughout the year, was distant, inland, about +three miles from the cottage. Lady Mary had said in her letter to her +friend that Mrs. O'Hara was a lady;--and as Mrs. O'Hara had no other +neighbour, ranking with herself in that respect, so near her, and none +other but the Protestant clergyman's wife within six miles of her, +charity, one would have thought, might have induced some of the Quin +family to notice her. But the Quins were Protestant, and Mrs. O'Hara was +not only a Roman Catholic, but a Roman Catholic who had been brought +into the parish by the priest. No evil certainly was known of her, but +then nothing was known of her; and the Quins were a very cautious people +where religion was called in question. In the days of the famine Father +Marty and the Earl and the Protestant vicar had worked together in the +good cause;--but those days were now gone by, and the strange intimacy +had soon died away. The Earl when he met the priest would bow to him, +and the two clergymen would bow to each other;--but beyond such dumb +salutation there was no intercourse between them. It had been held +therefore to be impossible to take any notice of the priest's friends. + +And what notice could have been taken of two ladies who came from nobody +knew where, to live in that wild out-of-the-way place, nobody knew why? +They called themselves mother and daughter, and they called themselves +O'Haras;--but there was no evidence of the truth even of these +assertions. They were left therefore in their solitude, and never saw +the face of a friend across their door step except that of Father Marty. + +In truth Mrs. O'Hara's life had been of a nature almost to necessitate +such solitude. With her story we have nothing to do here. For our +purpose there is no need that her tale should be told. Suffice it to say +that she had been deserted by her husband, and did not now know whether +she was or was not a widow. This was in truth the only mystery attached +to her. She herself was an Englishwoman, though a Catholic; but she had +been left early an orphan, and had been brought up in a provincial town +of France by her grandmother. There she had married a certain Captain +O'Hara, she having some small means of her own sufficient to make her +valuable in the eyes of an adventurer. At that time she was no more +than eighteen, and had given her hand to the Captain in opposition to +the wishes of her only guardian. What had been her life from that time +to the period at which, under Father Marty's auspices, she became the +inhabitant of Ardkill Cottage, no one knew but herself. She was then +utterly dissevered from all friends and relatives, and appeared on the +western coast of County Clare with her daughter, a perfect stranger to +every one. Father Marty was an old man, now nearly seventy, and had been +educated in France. There he had known Mrs. O'Hara's grandmother, and +hence had arisen the friendship which had induced him to bring the lady +into his parish. She came there with a daughter, then hardly more than a +child. Between two and three years had passed since her coming, and the +child was now a grown-up girl, nearly nineteen years old. Of her means +little or nothing was known accurately, even to the priest. She had told +him that she had saved enough out of the wreck on which to live with her +girl after some very humble fashion, and she paid her way. There must +have come some sudden crash, or she would hardly have taken her child +from an expensive Parisian school to vegetate in such solitude as that +she had chosen. And it was a solitude from which there seemed to be no +chance of future escape. They had brought with them a piano and a few +books, mostly French;--and with these it seemed to have been intended +that the two ladies should make their future lives endurable. Other +resources except such as the scenery of the cliffs afforded them, they +had none. + +The author would wish to impress upon his readers, if it may be +possible, some idea of the outward appearance and personal character of +each of these two ladies, as his story can hardly be told successfully +unless he do so. The elder, who was at this time still under forty +years of age, would have been a very handsome woman had not troubles, +suffering, and the contests of a rugged life, in which she had both +endured and dared much, given to her face a look of hard combative +resolution which was not feminine. She was rather below than above the +average height,--or at any rate looked to be so, as she was strongly +made, with broad shoulders, and a waist that was perhaps not now as +slender as when she first met Captain O'Hara. But her hair was still +black,--as dark at least as hair can be which is not in truth black at +all but only darkly brown. Whatever might be its colour there was no +tinge of grey upon it. It was glossy, silken, and long as when she was a +girl. I do not think that she took pride in it. How could she take pride +in personal beauty, when she was never seen by any man younger than +Father Marty or the old peasant who brought turf to her door in creels +on a donkey's back? But she wore it always without any cap, tied in a +simple knot behind her head. Whether chignons had been invented then the +author does not remember,--but they certainly had not become common on +the coast of County Clare, and the peasants about Liscannor thought Mrs. +O'Hara's head of hair the finest they had ever seen. Had the ladies Quin +of the Castle possessed such hair as that, they would not have been +the ladies Quin to this day. Her eyes were lustrous, dark, and very +large,--beautiful eyes certainly; but they were eyes that you might +fear. They had been softer perhaps in youth, before the spirit of the +tiger had been roused in the woman's bosom by neglect and ill-usage. Her +face was now bronzed by years and weather. Of her complexion she took no +more care than did the neighbouring fishermen of theirs, and the winds +and the salt water, and perhaps the working of her own mind, had told +upon it, to make it rough and dark. But yet there was a colour in her +cheeks, as we often see in those of wandering gipsies, which would make +a man stop to regard her who had eyes appreciative of beauty. Her nose +was well formed,--a heaven-made nose, and not a lump of flesh stuck on +to the middle of her face as women's noses sometimes are;--but it was +somewhat short and broad at the nostrils, a nose that could imply much +anger, and perhaps tenderness also. Her face below her nose was very +short. Her mouth was large, but laden with expression. Her lips were +full and her teeth perfect as pearls. Her chin was short and perhaps now +verging to that size which we call a double chin, and marked by as broad +a dimple as ever Venus made with her finger on the face of a woman. + +She had ever been strong and active, and years in that retreat had told +upon her not at all. She would still walk to Liscannor, and thence +round, when the tide was low, beneath the cliffs, and up by a path which +the boys had made from the foot through the rocks to the summit, though +the distance was over ten miles, and the ascent was very steep. She +would remain for hours on the rocks, looking down upon the sea, when +the weather was almost at its roughest. When the winds were still, and +the sun was setting across the ocean, and the tame waves were only just +audible as they rippled on the stones below, she would sit there with +her child, holding the girl's hand or just touching her arm, and would +be content so to stay almost without a word; but when the winds blew, +and the heavy spray came up in blinding volumes, and the white-headed +sea-monsters were roaring in their fury against the rocks, she would be +there alone with her hat in her hand, and her hair drenched. She would +watch the gulls wheeling and floating beneath her, and would listen to +their screams and try to read their voices. She would envy the birds as +they seemed to be worked into madness by the winds which still were not +strong enough to drive them from their purposes. To linger there among +the rocks seemed to be the only delight left to her in life,--except +that intense delight which a mother has in loving her child. She herself +read but little, and never put a hand upon the piano. But she had a +faculty of sitting and thinking, of brooding over her own past years and +dreaming of her daughter's future life, which never deserted her. With +her the days were doubtless very sad, but it cannot truly be said that +they were dull or tedious. + +And there was a sparkle of humour about her too, which would sometimes +shine the brightest when there was no one by her to appreciate it. Her +daughter would smile at her mother's sallies,--but she did so simply +in kindness. Kate did not share her mother's sense of humour,--did not +share it as yet. With the young the love of fun is gratified generally +by grotesque movement. It is not till years are running on that the +grotesqueness of words and ideas is appreciated. But Mrs. O'Hara would +expend her art on the household drudge, or on old Barney Corcoran who +came with the turf,--though by neither of them was she very clearly +understood. Now and again she would have a war of words with the +priest, and that, I think, she liked. She was intensely combative, if +ground for a combat arose; and would fight on any subject with any +human being--except her daughter. And yet with the priest she never +quarrelled; and though she was rarely beaten in her contests with him, +she submitted to him in much. In matters touching her religion she +submitted to him altogether. + +Kate O'Hara was in face very like her mother;--strangely like, for in +much she was very different. But she had her mother's eyes,--though hers +were much softer in their lustre, as became her youth,--and she had her +mother's nose, but without that look of scorn which would come upon her +mother's face when the nostrils were inflated. And in that peculiar +shortness of the lower face she was the very echo of her mother. But the +mouth was smaller, the lips less full, and the dimple less exaggerated. +It was a fairer face to look upon,--fairer, perhaps, than her mother's +had ever been; but it was less expressive, and in it there was +infinitely less capability for anger, and perhaps less capability for +the agonising extremes of tenderness. But Kate was taller than her +mother, and seemed by her mother's side to be slender. Nevertheless she +was strong and healthy; and though she did not willingly join in those +longer walks, or expose herself to the weather as did her mother, there +was nothing feeble about her, nor was she averse to action. Life at +Ardkill Cottage was dull, and therefore she also was dull. Had she been +surrounded by friends, such as she had known in her halcyon school days +at Paris, she would have been the gayest of the gay. + +Her hair was dark as her mother's,--even darker. Seen by the side of +Miss O'Hara's, the mother's hair was certainly not black, but one could +hardly think that hair could be blacker than the daughter's. But hers +fell in curling clusters round her neck,--such clusters as now one never +sees. She would shake them in sport, and the room would seem to be full +of her locks. But she used to say herself to her mother that there was +already to be found a grey hair among them now and again, and she would +at times shew one, declaring that she would be an old woman before her +mother was middle-aged. + +Her life at Ardkill Cottage was certainly very dull. Memory did but +little for her, and she hardly knew how to hope. She would read, till +she had nearly learned all their books by heart, and would play such +tunes as she knew by the hour together, till the poor instrument, +subject to the sea air and away from any tuner's skill, was discordant +with its limp strings. But still, with all this, her mind would become +vacant and weary. "Mother," she would say, "is it always to be like +this?" + +"Not always, Kate," the mother once answered. + +"And when will it be changed?" + +"In a few days,--in a few hours, Kate." + +"What do you mean, mother?" + +"That eternity is coming, with all its glory and happiness. If it were +not so, it would, indeed, be very bad." + +It may be doubted whether any human mind has been able to content itself +with hopes of eternity, till distress in some shape has embittered life. +The preachers preach very well,--well enough to leave many convictions +on the minds of men; but not well enough to leave that conviction. And +godly men live well,--but we never see them living as though such were +their conviction. And were it so, who would strive and moil in this +world? When the heart has been broken, and the spirit ground to the +dust by misery, then,--such is God's mercy--eternity suffices to make +life bearable. When Mrs. O'Hara spoke to her daughter of eternity, +there was but cold comfort in the word. The girl wanted something +here,--pleasures, companions, work, perhaps a lover. This had happened +before Lieutenant Neville of the 20th Hussars had been seen in those +parts. + +And the mother herself, in speaking as she had spoken, had, perhaps +unintentionally, indulged in a sarcasm on life which the daughter +certainly had not been intended to understand. "Yes;--it will always be +like this for you, for you, unfortunate one that you are. There is no +other further look-out in this life. You are one of the wretched to whom +the world offers nothing; and therefore,--as, being human, you must +hope,--build your hopes on eternity." Had the words been read clearly, +that would have been their true meaning. What could she do for her +child? Bread and meat, with a roof over her head, and raiment which +sufficed for life such as theirs, she could supply. The life would have +been well enough had it been their fate, and within their power, to earn +the bread and meat, the shelter and the raiment. But to have it, and +without work,--to have that, and nothing more, in absolute idleness, was +such misery that there was no resource left but eternity! + +And yet the mother when she looked at her daughter almost persuaded +herself that it need not be so. The girl was very lovely,--so lovely +that, were she but seen, men would quarrel for her as to who should have +her in his keeping. Such beauty, such life, such capability for giving +and receiving enjoyment could not have been intended to wither on a lone +cliff over the Atlantic! There must be fault somewhere. But yet to live +had been the first necessity; and life in cities, among the haunts of +men, had been impossible with such means as this woman possessed. When +she had called her daughter to her, and had sought peace under the roof +which her friend the priest had found for her, peace and a roof to +shelter her had been the extent of her desires. To be at rest, and +independent, with her child within her arms, had been all that the woman +asked of the gods. For herself it sufficed. For herself she was able to +acknowledge that the rest which she had at least obtained was infinitely +preferable to the unrest of her past life. But she soon learned,--as she +had not expected to learn before she made the experiment,--that that +which was to her peace, was to her daughter life within a tomb. "Mother, +is it always to be like this?" + +Had her child not carried the weight of good blood, had some small +grocer or country farmer been her father, she might have come down to +the neighbouring town of Ennistimon, and found a fitting mate there. +Would it not have been better so? From that weight of good blood,--or +gift, if it please us to call it,--what advantage would ever come to her +girl? It can not really be that all those who swarm in the world below +the bar of gentlehood are less blessed, or intended to be less blessed, +than the few who float in the higher air. As to real blessedness, does +it not come from fitness to the outer life and a sense of duty that +shall produce such fitness? Does any one believe that the Countess has a +greater share of happiness than the grocer's wife, or is less subject to +the miseries which flesh inherits? But such matters cannot be changed +by the will. This woman could not bid her daughter go and meet the +butcher's son on equal terms, or seek her friends among the milliners of +the neighbouring town. The burden had been imposed and must be borne, +even though it isolated them from all the world. + +"Mother, is it always to be like this?" Of course the mother knew what +was needed. It was needed that the girl should go out into the world and +pair, that she should find some shoulder on which she might lean, some +arm that would be strong to surround her, the heart of some man and the +work of some man to which she might devote herself. The girl, when she +asked her question, did not know this,--but the mother knew it. The +mother looked at her child and said that of all living creatures her +child was surely the loveliest. Was it not fit that she should go forth +and be loved;--that she should at any rate go forth and take her chance +with others? But how should such going forth be managed? And then,--were +there not dangers, terrible dangers,--dangers specially terrible to one +so friendless as her child? Had not she herself been wrecked among the +rocks, trusting herself to one who had been utterly unworthy,--loving +one who had been utterly unlovely? Men so often are as ravenous wolves, +merciless, rapacious, without hearts, full of greed, full of lust, +looking on female beauty as prey, regarding the love of woman and her +very life as a toy! Were she higher in the world there might be safety. +Were she lower there might be safety. But how could she send her girl +forth into the world without sending her certainly among the wolves? And +yet that piteous question was always sounding in her ears. "Mother, is +it always to be like this?" + +Then Lieutenant Neville had appeared upon the scene, dressed in a +sailor's jacket and trowsers, with a sailor's cap upon his head, with +a loose handkerchief round his neck and his hair blowing to the wind. +In the eyes of Kate O'Hara he was an Apollo. In the eyes of any girl he +must have seemed to be as good-looking a fellow as ever tied a sailor's +knot. He had made acquaintance with Father Marty at Liscannor, and the +priest had dined with him at Ennis. There had been a return visit, and +the priest, perhaps innocently, had taken him up on the cliffs. There he +had met the two ladies, and our hero had been introduced to Kate O'Hara. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +I'LL GO BAIL SHE LIKES IT. + + +It might be that the young man was a ravenous wolf, but his manners were +not wolfish. Had Mrs. O'Hara been a princess, supreme in her own rights, +young Neville could not have treated her or her daughter with more +respect. At first Kate had wondered at him, but had said but little. She +had listened to him, as he talked to her mother and the priest about the +cliffs and the birds and the seals he had shot, and she had felt that +it was this, something like this, that was needed to make life so sweet +that as yet there need be no longing, no thought, for eternity. It was +not that all at once she loved him, but she felt that he was a thing to +love. His very appearance on the cliff, and the power of thinking of him +when he was gone, for a while banished all tedium from her life. "Why +should you shoot the poor gulls?" That was the first question she asked +him; and she asked it hardly in tenderness to the birds, but because +with the unconscious cunning of her sex she understood that tenderness +in a woman is a charm in the eyes of a man. + +"Only because it is so difficult to get at them," said Fred. "I believe +there is no other reason,--except that one must shoot something." + +"But why must you?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"To justify one's guns. A man takes to shooting as a matter of course. +It's a kind of institution. There ain't any tigers, and so we shoot +birds. And in this part of the world there ain't any pheasants, and so +we shoot sea-gulls." + +"Excellently argued," said the priest. + +"Or rather one don't, for it's impossible to get at them. But I'll tell +you what, Father Marty,"--Neville had already assumed the fashion of +calling the priest by his familiar priestly name, as strangers do much +more readily than they who belong to the country,--"I'll tell you what, +Father Marty,--I've shot one of the finest seals I ever saw, and if +Morony can get him at low water, I'll send the skin up to Mrs. O'Hara." + +"And send the oil to me," said the priest. "There's some use in shooting +a seal. But you can do nothing with those birds,--unless you get enough +of their feathers to make a bed." + +This was in October, and before the end of November Fred Neville was, +after a fashion, intimate at the cottage. He had never broken bread at +Mrs. O'Hara's table; nor, to tell the truth, had any outspoken, clearly +intelligible word of love been uttered by him to the girl. But he had +been seen with them often enough, and the story had become sufficiently +current at Liscannor to make Lady Mary Quin think that she was justified +in sending her bad news to her friend Lady Scroope. This she did not do +till Fred had been induced, with some difficulty, to pass a night at +Castle Quin. Lady Mary had not scrupled to ask a question about Miss +O'Hara, and had thought the answer very unsatisfactory. "I don't know +what makes them live there, I'm sure. I should have thought you would +have known that," replied Neville, in answer to her question. + +"They are perfect mysteries to us," said Lady Mary. + +"I think that Miss O'Hara is the prettiest girl I ever saw in my life," +said Fred boldly, "and I should say the handsomest woman, if it were not +that there may be a question between her and her mother." + +"You are enthusiastic," said Lady Mary Quin, and after that the letter +to Scroope was written. + +In the meantime the seal-skin was cured,--not perhaps in the very best +fashion, and was sent up to Miss O'Hara, with Mr. Neville's compliments. +The skin of a seal that has been shot by the man and not purchased is a +present that any lady may receive from any gentleman. The most prudent +mamma that ever watched over her dovecote with Argus eyes, permitting no +touch of gallantry to come near it, could hardly insist that a seal-skin +in the rough should be sent back to the donor. Mrs. O'Hara was by no +means that most prudent mamma, and made, not only the seal-skin, but the +donor also welcome. Must it not be that by some chance advent such as +this that the change must be effected in her girl's life, should any +change ever be made? And her girl was good. Why should she fear for her? +The man had been brought there by her only friend, the priest, and why +should she fear him? And yet she did fear; and though her face was +never clouded when her girl spoke of the new comer, though she always +mentioned Captain Neville's name as though she herself liked the man, +though she even was gracious to him when he shewed himself near the +cottage,--still there was a deep dread upon her when her eyes rested +upon him, when her thoughts flew to him. Men are wolves to women, and +utterly merciless when feeding high their lust. 'Twas thus her own +thoughts shaped themselves, though she never uttered a syllable to her +daughter in disparagement of the man. This was the girl's chance. Was +she to rob her of it? And yet, of all her duties, was not the duty of +protecting her girl the highest and the dearest that she owned? If the +man meant well by her girl, she would wash his feet with her hair, kiss +the hem of his garments, and love the spot on which she had first seen +him stand like a young sea-god. But if evil,--if he meant evil to her +girl, if he should do evil to her Kate,--then she knew that there was +so much of the tiger within her bosom as would serve to rend him limb +from limb. With such thoughts as these she had hardly ever left them +together. Nor had such leaving together seemed to be desired by them. +As for Kate she certainly would have shunned it. She thought of Fred +Neville during all her waking moments, and dreamed of him at night. His +coming had certainly been to her as the coming of a god. Though he did +not appear on the cliffs above once or twice a week, and had done so but +for a few weeks, his presence had altered the whole tenour of her life. +She never asked her mother now whether it was to be always like this. +There was a freshness about her life which her mother understood at +once. She was full of play, reading less than was her wont, but still +with no sense of tedium. Of the man in his absence she spoke but seldom, +and when his name was on her lips she would jest with it,--as though the +coming of a young embryo lord to shoot gulls on their coast was quite a +joke. The seal-skin which he had given her was very dear to her, and she +was at no pains to hide her liking; but of the man as a lover she had +never seemed to think. + +Nor did she think of him as a lover. It is not by such thinking that +love grows. Nor did she ever tell herself that while he was there, +coming on one day and telling them that his boat would be again there on +another, life was blessed to her, and that, therefore, when he should +have left them, her life would be accursed to her. She knew nothing of +all this. But yet she thought of him, and dreamed of him, and her young +head was full of little plans with every one of which he was connected. + +And it may almost be said that Fred Neville was as innocent in the +matter as was the girl. It is true, indeed, that men are merciless as +wolves to women,--that they become so, taught by circumstances and +trained by years; but the young man who begins by meaning to be a wolf +must be bad indeed. Fred Neville had no such meaning. On his behalf it +must be acknowledged that he had no meaning whatever when he came again +and again to Ardkill. Had he examined himself in the matter he would +have declared that he liked the mother quite as well as the daughter. +When Lady Mary Quin had thrown at him her very blunt arrow he had +defended himself on that plea. Accident, and the spirit of adventure, +had thrust these ladies in his path, and no doubt he liked them the +better because they did not live as other people lived. Their solitude, +the close vicinity of the ocean, the feeling that in meeting them none +of the ordinary conventional usages of society were needed, the wildness +and the strangeness of the scene, all had charms which he admitted to +himself. And he knew that the girl was very lovely. Of course he said +so to himself and to others. To take delight in beauty is assumed to be +the nature of a young man, and this young man was not one to wish to +differ from others in that respect. But when he went back to spend his +Christmas at Scroope, he had never told even himself that he intended to +be her lover. + +"Good-bye, Mrs. O'Hara," he said, a day or two before he left Ennis. + +"So you're going?" + +"Oh yes, I'm off. The orders from home are imperative. One has to cut +one's lump of Christmas beef and also one's lump of Christmas pudding. +It is our family religion, you know." + +"What a happiness to have a family to visit!" + +"It's all very well, I suppose. I don't grumble. Only it's a bore going +away, somehow." + +"You are coming back to Ennis?" asked Kate. + +"Coming back;--I should think so. Barney Morony wouldn't be quite +so quiet if I was not coming back. I'm to dine with Father Marty at +Liscannor on the 15th of January, to meet another priest from Milltown +Malbay,--the best fellow in the world he says." + +"That's Father Creech;--not half such a good fellow, Mr. Neville, as +Father Marty himself." + +"He couldn't be better. However, I shall be here then, and if I have any +luck you shall have another skin of the same size by that time." Then he +shook hands with them both, and there was a feeling that the time would +be blank till he should be again there in his sailor's jacket. + +When the second week in January had come Mrs. O'Hara heard that the +gallant young officer of the 20th was back in Ennis, and she well +remembered that he had told her of his intention to dine with the +priest. On the Sunday she saw Mr. Marty after mass, and managed to have +a few words with him on the road while Kate returned to the cottage +alone. "So your friend Mr. Neville has come back to Ennis," she said. + +"I didn't know that he had come. He promised to dine with me on +Thursday,--only I think nothing of promises from these young fellows." + +"He told me he was to be with you." + +"More power to him. He'll be welcome. I'm getting to be a very ould man, +Misthress O'Hara; but I'm not so ould but I like to have the young ones +near me." + +"It is pleasant to see a bright face like his." + +"That's thrue for you, Misthress O'Hara. I like to see 'em bright and +ganial. I don't know that I ever shot so much as a sparrow, meself, but +I love to hear them talk of their shootings, and huntings, and the like +of that. I've taken a fancy to that boy, and he might do pretty much as +he plazes wid me." + +"And I too have taken a fancy to him, Father Marty." + +"Shure and how could you help it?" + +"But he mustn't do as he pleases with me." Father Marty looked up into +her face as though he did not understand her. "If I were alone, as you +are, I could afford, like you, to indulge in the pleasure of a bright +face. Only in that case he would not care to let me see it." + +"Bedad thin, Misthress O'Hara, I don't know a fairer face to look on in +all Corcomroe than your own,--that is when you're not in your tantrums, +Misthress O'Hara." The priest was a privileged person, and could say +what he liked to his friend; and she understood that a priest might say +without fault what would be very faulty if it came from any one else. + +"I'm in earnest now, Father Marty. What shall we do if our darling Kate +thinks of this young man more than is good for her?" Father Marty raised +his hat and began to scratch his head. "If you like to look at the fair +face of a handsome lad--" + +"I do thin, Misthress O'Hara." + +"Must not she like it also?" + +"I'll go bail she likes it," said the priest. + +"And what will come next?" + +"I'll tell you what it is, Misthress O'Hara. Would you want to keep her +from even seeing a man at all?" + +"God forbid." + +"It's not the way to make them happy, nor yet safe. If it's to be +that way wid her, she'd better be a nun all out; and I'd be far from +proposing that to your Kate." + +"She is hardly fit for so holy a life." + +"And why should she? I niver like seeing too many of 'em going that way, +and them that are prittiest are the last I'd send there. But if not +a nun, it stands to reason she must take chance with the rest of 'em. +She's been too much shut up already. Let her keep her heart till he asks +her for it; but if he does ask her, why shouldn't she be his wife? How +many of them young officers take Irish wives home with 'em every year. +Only for them, our beauties wouldn't have a chance." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FATHER MARTY'S HOSPITALITY. + + +Such was the philosophy, or, perhaps, it may be better said such was the +humanity of Father Marty! But in encouraging Mrs. O'Hara to receive this +dangerous visitor he had by no means spoken without consideration. In +one respect we must abandon Father Marty to the judgment and censure +of fathers and mothers. The whole matter looked at from Lady Scroope's +point of view was no doubt very injurious to the priest's character. He +regarded a stranger among them, such as was Fred Neville, as fair spoil, +as a Philistine to seize whom and capture him for life on behalf of any +Irish girl would be a great triumph;--a spoiling of the Egyptian to +the accomplishment of which he would not hesitate to lend his priestly +assistance, the end to be accomplished, of course, being marriage. For +Lord Scroope and his family and his blood and his religious fanaticism +he could entertain no compassion whatever. Father Marty was no great +politician, and desired no rebellion against England. Even in the days +of O'Connell and repeal he had been but luke-warm. But justice for +Ireland in the guise of wealthy English husbands for pretty Irish +girls he desired with all his heart. He was true to his own faith, to +the backbone, but he entertained no prejudice against a good looking +Protestant youth when a fortunate marriage was in question. So little +had been given to the Irish in these days, that they were bound to take +what they could get. Lord Scroope and the Countess, had they known +the priest's views on this matter, would have regarded him as an +unscrupulous intriguing ruffian, prepared to destroy the happiness of a +noble family by a wicked scheme. But his views of life, as judged from +the other side, admitted of some excuse. As for a girl breaking her +heart, he did not, perhaps, much believe in such a catastrophe. Of a +sore heart a girl must run the chance,--as also must a man. That young +men do go about promising marriage and not keeping their promise, he +knew well. None could know that better than he did, for he was the +repository of half the love secrets in his parish. But all that was +part of the evil coming from the fall of Adam, and must be endured +till,--till the Pope should have his own again, and be able to set all +things right. In the meantime young women must do the best they could +to keep their lovers;--and should one lover break away, then must the +deserted one use her experience towards getting a second. But how was a +girl to have a lover at all, if she were never allowed to see a man? He +had been bred a priest from his youth upwards, and knew nothing of love; +but nevertheless it was a pain to him to see a young girl, good-looking, +healthy, fit to be the mother of children, pine away, unsought for, +uncoupled,--as it would be a pain to see a fruit grow ripe upon the +tree, and then fall and perish for the want of plucking. His philosophy +was perhaps at fault, and it may be that his humanity was unrefined. But +he was human to the core,--and, at any rate, unselfish. That there might +be another danger was a fact that he looked full in the face. But what +victory can be won without danger? And he thought that he knew this +girl, who three times a year would open her whole heart to him in +confession. He was sure that she was not only innocent, but good. And +of the man, too, he was prone to believe good;--though who on such a +question ever trusts a man's goodness? There might be danger and there +must be discretion; but surely it would not be wise, because evil +was possible, that such a one as Kate O'Hara should be kept from all +that intercourse without which a woman is only half a woman! He had +considered it all, though the reader may perhaps think that as a +minister of the gospel he had come to a strange conclusion. He himself, +in his own defence, would have said that having served many years in the +ministry he had learned to know the nature of men and women. + +Mrs. O'Hara said not a word to Kate of the doctrines which the priest +had preached, but she found herself encouraged to mention their new +friend's name to the girl. During Fred's absence hardly a word had +been spoken concerning him in the cottage. Mrs. O'Hara had feared the +subject, and Kate had thought of him much too often to allow his name to +be on her tongue. But now as they sat after dinner over their peat fire +the mother began the subject. "Mr. Neville is to dine with Father Marty +on Thursday." + +"Is he, mother?" + +"Barney Morony was telling me that he was back at Ennis. Barney had to +go in and see him about the boat." + +"He won't go boating such weather as this, mother?" + +"It seems that he means it. The winds are not so high now as they were +in October, and the men understand well when the sea will be high." + +"It is frightful to think of anybody being in one of those little boats +now." Kate ever since she had lived in these parts had seen the canoes +from Liscannor and Lahinch about in the bay, summer and winter, and had +never found anything dreadful in it before. + +"I suppose he'll come up here again," said the mother; but to this Kate +made no answer. "He is to sleep at Father Marty's I fancy, and he can +hardly do that without paying us a visit." + +"The days are short and he'll want all his time for the boating," said +Kate with a little pout. + +"He'll find half-an-hour, I don't doubt. Shall you be glad to see him, +Kate?" + +"I don't know, mother. One is glad almost to see any one up here. It's +as good as a treat when old Corcoran comes up with the turf." + +"But Mr. Neville is not like old Corcoran, Kate." + +"Not in the least, mother. I do like Mr. Neville better than Corcoran, +because you see with Corcoran the excitement is very soon over. And +Corcoran hasn't very much to say for himself." + +"And Mr. Neville has?" + +"He says a great deal more to you than he does to me, mother." + +"I like him very much. I should like him very much indeed if there were +no danger in his coming." + +"What danger?" + +"That he should steal your heart away, my own, my darling, my child." +Then Kate, instead of answering, got up and threw herself at her +mother's knees, and buried her face in her mother's lap, and Mrs. O'Hara +knew that that act of larceny had already been perpetrated. + +And how should it have been otherwise? But of such stealing it is always +better that no mention should be made till the theft has been sanctified +by free gift. Till the loss has been spoken of and acknowledged, it may +in most cases be recovered. Had Neville never returned from Scroope, and +his name never been mentioned by the mother to her daughter, it may be +that Kate O'Hara would not have known that she had loved him. For a +while she would have been sad. For a month or two, as she lay wakeful in +her bed she would have thought of her dreams. But she would have thought +of them as only dreams. She would have been sure that she could have +loved him had any fair ending been possible for such love; but she would +have assured herself that she had been on her guard, and that she was +safe in spite of her dreams. But now the flame in her heart had been +confessed and in some degree sanctioned, and she would foster it rather +than quench it. Even should such a love be capable of no good fortune, +would it not be better to have a few weeks of happy dreaming than a +whole life that should be passionless? What could she do with her own +heart there, living in solitude, with none but the sea gulls to look at +her? Was it not infinitely better that she should give it away to such a +young god as this than let it feed upon itself miserably? Yes, she would +give it away;--but might it not be that the young god would not take the +gift? + +On the third day after his arrival at Ennis, Neville was at Liscannor +with the priest. He little dreamed that the fact of his dining and +sleeping at Father Marty's house would be known to the ladies at Castle +Quin, and communicated from them to his aunt at Scroope Manor. Not that +he would have been deterred from accepting the priest's hospitality or +frightened into accepting that of the noble owner of the castle, had he +known precisely all that would be written about it. He would not have +altered his conduct in a matter in which he considered himself entitled +to regulate it, in obedience to any remonstrances from Scroope Manor. +Objections to the society of a Roman Catholic priest because of his +religion he would have regarded as old-fashioned fanaticism. As for +Earls and their daughters he would no doubt have enough of them in his +future life, and this special Earl and his daughters had not fascinated +him. He had chosen to come to Ireland with his regiment for this year +instead of at once assuming the magnificence of his position in England, +in order that he might indulge the spirit of adventure before he assumed +the duties of life. And it seemed to him that in dining and sleeping at +an Irish priest's house on the shores of the Atlantic, with the prospect +of seal shooting and seeing a very pretty girl on the following morning, +he was indulging that spirit properly. But Lady Mary Quin thought that +he was misbehaving himself and taking to very bad courses. When she +heard that he was to sleep at the priest's house, she was quite sure +that he would visit Mrs. O'Hara on the next day. + +The dinner at the priest's was very jovial. There was a bottle of sherry +and there was a bottle of port, procured, chiefly for the sake of +appearance, from a grocer's shop at Ennistimon;--but the whiskey had +come from Cork and had been in the priest's keeping for the last dozen +years. He good-humouredly acknowledged that the wine was nothing, but +expressed an opinion that Mr. Neville might find it difficult to beat +the "sperrits." "It's thrue for you, Father Marty," said the rival +priest from Milltown Malbay, "and it's you that should know good +sperrits from bad if ony man in Ireland does." + +"'Deed thin," replied the priest of Liscannor, "barring the famine +years, I've mixed two tumblers of punch for meself every day these +forty years, and if it was all together it'd be about enough to give +Mr. Neville a day's sale-shooting on in his canoe." Immediately after +dinner Neville was invited to light his cigar, and everything was easy, +comfortable, and to a certain degree adventurous. There were the two +priests, and a young Mr. Finucane from Ennistimon,--who however was +not quite so much to Fred's taste as the elder men. Mr. Finucane wore +various rings, and talked rather largely about his father's demesne. But +the whole thing was new, and by no means dull. As Neville had not left +Ennis till late in the day,--after what he called a hard day's work in +the warrior line,--they did not sit down till past eight o'clock; nor +did any one talk of moving till past midnight. Fred certainly made for +himself more than two glasses of punch, and he would have sworn that the +priest had done so also. Father Marty, however, was said by those who +knew him best to be very rigid in this matter, and to have the faculty +of making his drink go a long way. Young Mr. Finucane took three or +four,--perhaps five or six,--and then volunteered to join Fred Neville +in a day's shooting under the rocks. But Fred had not been four years +in a cavalry regiment without knowing how to protect himself in such a +difficulty as this. "The canoe will only hold myself and the man," said +Fred, with perfect simplicity. Mr. Finucane drew himself up haughtily +and did not utter another word for the next five minutes. Nevertheless +he took a most affectionate leave of the young officer when half an hour +after midnight he was told by Father Marty that it was time for him to +go home. Father Creech also took his leave, and then Fred and the priest +of Liscannor were left sitting together over the embers of the turf +fire. "You'll be going up to see our friends at Ardkill to-morrow," said +the priest. + +"Likely enough, Father Marty." + +"In course you will. Sorrow a doubt of that." Then the priest paused. + +"And why shouldn't I?" asked Neville. + +"I'm not saying that you shouldn't, Mr. Neville. It wouldn't be civil +nor yet nathural after knowing them as you have done. If you didn't go +they'd be thinking there was a rason for your staying away, and that'd +be worse than all. But, Mr. Neville--" + +"Out with it, Father Marty." Fred knew what was coming fairly well, and +he also had thought a good deal upon the matter. + +"Them two ladies, Mr. Neville, live up there all alone, with sorrow a +human being in the world to protect them,--barring myself." + +"Why should they want protection?" + +"Just because they're lone women, and because one of them is very young +and very beautiful." + +"They are both beautiful," said Neville. + +"'Deed and they are,--both of 'em. The mother can look afther herself, +and after a fashion, too, she can look afther her daughter. I shouldn't +like to be the man to come in her way when he'd once decaived her child. +You're a young man, Mr. Neville." + +"That's my misfortune." + +"And one who stands very high in the world. They tell me you're to be a +great lord some day." + +"Either that or a little one," said Neville, laughing. + +"Anyways you'll be a rich man with a handle to your name. To me, living +here in this out of the way parish, a lord doesn't matter that." And +Father Marty gave a fillip with his fingers. "The only lord that matters +me is me bishop. But with them women yonder, the title and the money and +all the grandeur goes a long way. It has been so since the world began. +In riding a race against you they carry weight from the very awe which +the name of an English Earl brings with it." + +"Why should they ride a race against me?" + +"Why indeed,--unless you ride a race against them! You wouldn't wish to +injure that young thing as isn't yet out of her teens?" + +"God forbid that I should injure her." + +"I don't think that you're the man to do it with your eyes open, Mr. +Neville. If you can't spake her fair in the way of making her your wife, +don't spake her fair at all. That's the long and the short of it, Mr. +Neville. You see what they are. They're ladies, if there is a lady +living in the Queen's dominions. That young thing is as beautiful +as Habe, as innocent as a sleeping child, as soft as wax to take +impression. What armour has she got against such a one as you?" + +"She shall not need armour." + +"If you're a gentleman, Mr. Neville,--as I know you are,--you will not +give her occasion to find out her own wakeness. Well, if it isn't past +one I'm a sinner. It's Friday morning and I mus'n't ate a morsel myself, +poor papist that I am; but I'll get you a bit of cold mate and a drop +of grog in a moment if you'll take it." Neville, however, refused the +hospitable offer. + +"Father Marty," he said, speaking with a zeal which perhaps owed +something of its warmth to the punch, "you shall find that I am a +gentleman." + +"I'm shure of it, my boy." + +"If I can do no good to your friend, at any rate I will do no harm to +her." + +"That is spoken like a Christian, Mr. Neville,--which I take to be a +higher name even than gentleman." + +"There's my hand upon it," said Fred, enthusiastically. After that he +went to bed. + +On the following morning the priest was very jolly at breakfast, and +in speaking of the ladies at Ardkill made no allusion whatever to the +conversation of the previous evening. "Ah no," he said, when Neville +proposed that they should walk up together to the cottage before he +went down to his boat. "What's the good of an ould man like me going +bothering? And, signs on, I'm going into Ennistimon to see Pat O'Leary +about the milk he's sending to our Union. The thief of the world,--it's +wathering it he is before he sends it. Nothing kills me, Mr. Neville, +but when I hear of all them English vices being brought over to this +poor suffering innocent counthry." + +Neville had decided on the advice of Barney Morony, that he would on +this morning go down southward along the coast to Drumdeirg rock, in the +direction away from the Hag's Head and from Mrs. O'Hara's cottage; and +he therefore postponed his expedition till after his visit. When Father +Marty started to Ennistimon to look after that sinner O'Leary, Fred +Neville, all alone, turned the other way to Ardkill. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO. + + +Mrs. O'Hara had known that he would come, and Kate had known it; and, +though it would be unfair to say that they were waiting for him, it is +no more than true to say that they were ready for him. "We are so glad +to see you again," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"Not more glad than I am to find myself here once more." + +"So you dined and slept at Father Marty's last night. What will the +grand people say at the Castle?" + +"As I sha'n't hear what they say, it won't matter much! Life is not +long enough, Mrs. O'Hara, for putting up with disagreeable people." + +"Was it pleasant last night?" + +"Very pleasant. I don't think Father Creech is half as good as Father +Marty, you know." + +"Oh no," exclaimed Kate. + +"But he's a jolly sort of fellow, too. And there was a Mr. Finucane +there,--a very grand fellow." + +"We know no one about here but the priests," said Mrs. O'Hara, laughing. +"Anybody might think that the cottage was a little convent." + +"Then I oughtn't to come." + +"Well, no, I suppose not. Only foreigners are admitted to see convents +sometimes. You're going after the poor seals again?" + +"Barney says the tide is too high for the seals now. We're going to +Drumdeirg." + +"What,--to those little rocks?" asked Kate. + +"Yes,--to the rocks. I wish you'd both come with me." + +"I wouldn't go in one of those canoes all out there for the world," said +Kate. + +"What can be the use of it?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"I've got to get the feathers for Father Marty's bed, you know. I +haven't shot as many yet as would make a pillow for a cradle." + +"The poor innocent gulls!" + +"The poor innocent chickens and ducks, if you come to that, Miss +O'Hara." + +"But they're of use." + +"And so will Father Marty's feather bed be of use. Good-bye, Mrs. +O'Hara. Good-bye, Miss O'Hara. I shall be down again next week, and +we'll have that other seal." + +There was nothing in this. So far, at any rate, he had not broken his +word to the priest. He had not spoken a word to Kate O'Hara that might +not and would not have been said had the priest been present. But how +lovely she was; and what a thrill ran through his arm as he held her +hand in his for a moment. Where should he find a girl like that in +England with such colour, such eyes, such hair, such innocence,--and +then with so sweet a voice? + +As he hurried down the hill to the beach at Coolroone, where Morony was +to meet him with the boat, he could not keep himself from comparisons +between Kate O'Hara and Sophie Mellerby. No doubt his comparisons were +made very incorrectly,--and unfairly; but they were all in favour of the +girl who lived out of the world in solitude on the cliffs of Moher. And +why should he not be free to seek a wife where he pleased? In such an +affair as that,--an affair of love in which the heart and the heart +alone should be consulted, what right could any man have to dictate to +him? Certain ideas occurred to him which his friends in England would +have called wild, democratic, revolutionary and damnable, but which, +owing perhaps to the Irish air and the Irish whiskey and the spirit of +adventure fostered by the vicinity of rocks and ocean, appeared to him +at the moment to be not only charming but reasonable also. No doubt he +was born to high state and great rank, but nothing that his rank and +state could give him was so sweet as his liberty. To be free to choose +for himself in all things, was the highest privilege of man. What +pleasure could he have in a love which should be selected for him by +such a woman as his aunt? Then he gave the reins to some confused notion +of an Irish bride, a wife who should be half a wife and half not,--whom +he would love and cherish tenderly but of whose existence no English +friend should be aware. How could he more charmingly indulge his spirit +of adventure than by some such arrangement as this? + +He knew that he had given a pledge to his uncle to contract no marriage +that would be derogatory to his position. He knew also that he had given +a pledge to the priest that he would do no harm to Kate O'Hara. He felt +that he was bound to keep each pledge. As for that sweet, darling girl, +would he not sooner lose his life than harm her? But he was aware that +an adventurous life was always a life of difficulties, and that for such +as live adventurous lives the duty of overcoming difficulties was of all +duties the chief. Then he got into his canoe, and, having succeeded in +killing two gulls on the Drumdeirg rocks, thought that for that day he +had carried out his purpose as a man of adventure very well. + +During February and March he was often on the coast, and hardly one +visit did he make which was not followed by a letter from Castle Quin +to Scroope Manor. No direct accusation of any special fault was made +against him in consequence. No charge was brought of an improper +hankering after any special female, because Lady Scroope found herself +bound in conscience not to commit her correspondent; but very heavy +injunctions were laid upon him as to his general conduct, and he was +eagerly entreated to remember his great duty and to come home and settle +himself in England. In the mean time the ties which bound him to the +coast of Clare were becoming stronger and stronger every day. He had +ceased now to care much about seeing Father Marty, and would come, when +the tide was low, direct from Lahinch to the strand beneath the cliffs, +from whence there was a path through the rocks up to Ardkill. And there +he would remain for hours,--having his gun with him, but caring little +for his gun. He told himself that he loved the rocks and the wildness of +the scenery, and the noise of the ocean, and the whirring of the birds +above and below him. It was certainly true that he loved Kate O'Hara. + +"Neville, you must answer me a question," said the mother to him one +morning when they were out together, looking down upon the Atlantic when +the wind had lulled after a gale. + +"Ask it then," said he. + +"What is the meaning of all this? What is Kate to believe?" + +"Of course she believes that I love her better than all the world +besides,--that she is more to me than all the world can give or take. I +have told her at least, so often, that if she does not believe it she is +little better than a Jew." + +"You must not joke with me now. If you knew what it was to have one +child and only that you would not joke with me." + +"I am quite in earnest. I am not joking." + +"And what is to be the end of it?" + +"The end of it! How can I say? My uncle is an old man,--very old, very +infirm, very good, very prejudiced, and broken-hearted because his own +son, who died, married against his will." + +"You would not liken my Kate to such as that woman was?" + +"Your Kate! She is my Kate as much as yours. Such a thought as that +would be an injury to me as deep as to you. You know that to me my Kate, +our Kate, is all excellence,--as pure and good as she is bright and +beautiful. As God is above us she shall be my wife,--but I cannot take +her to Scroope Manor as my wife while my uncle lives." + +"Why should any one be ashamed of her at Scroope Manor?" + +"Because they are fools. But I cannot cure them of their folly. My uncle +thinks that I should marry one of my own class." + +"Class;--what class? He is a gentleman, I presume, and she is a lady." + +"That is very true;--so true that I myself shall act upon the truth. But +I will not make his last years wretched. He is a Protestant, and you are +Catholics." + +"What is that? Are not ever so many of your lords Catholics? Were they +not all Catholics before Protestants were ever thought of?" + +"Mrs. O'Hara, I have told you that to me she is as high and good and +noble as though she were a Princess. And I have told you that she shall +be my wife. If that does not content you, I cannot help it. It contents +her. I owe much to her." + +"Indeed you do;--everything." + +"But I owe much to him also. I do not think that you can gain anything +by quarrelling with me." + +She paused for a while before she answered him, looking into his face +the while with something of the ferocity of a tigress. So intent was her +gaze that his eyes quailed beneath it. "By the living God," she said, +"if you injure my child I will have the very blood from your heart." + +Nevertheless she allowed him to return alone to the house, where she +knew that he would find her girl. "Kate," he said, going into the +parlour in which she was sitting idle at the window,--"dear Kate." + +"Well, sir?" + +"I'm off." + +"You are always--off, as you call it." + +"Well,--yes. But I'm not on and off, as the saying is." + +"Why should you go away now?" + +"Do you suppose a soldier has got nothing to do? You never calculate, I +think, that Ennis is about three-and-twenty miles from here. Come, Kate, +be nice with me before I go." + +"How can I be nice when you are going? I always think when I see you go +that you will never come back to me again. I don't know why you should +come back to such a place as this?" + +"Because, as it happens, the place holds what I love best in all the +world." Then he lifted her from her chair, and put his arm round her +waist. "Do you not know that I love you better than all that the world +holds?" + +"How can I know it?" + +"Because I swear it to you." + +"I think that you like me--a little. Oh Fred, if you were to go and +never to come back I should die. Do you remember Mariana? 'My life is +dreary. He cometh not,' she said. She said, 'I am aweary, aweary; I +would that I were dead!' Do you remember that? What has mother been +saying to you?" + +"She has been bidding me to do you no harm. It was not necessary. I +would sooner pluck out my eye than hurt you. My uncle is an old man,--a +very old man. She cannot understand that it is better that we should +wait, than that I should have to think hereafter that I had killed him +by my unkindness." + +"But he wants you to love some other girl." + +"He cannot make me do that. All the world cannot change my heart, Kate. +If you can not trust me for that, then you do not love me as I love +you." + +"Oh, Fred, you know I love you. I do trust you. Of course I can wait, if +I only know that you will come back to me. I only want to see you." He +was now leaning over her, and her cheek was pressed close to his. Though +she was talking of Mariana, and pretending to fear future misery, all +this was Elysium to her,--the very joy of Paradise. She could sit and +think of him now from morning to night, and never find the day an hour +too long. She could remember the words in which he made his oaths to +her, and cherish the sweet feeling of his arm round her body. To have +her cheek close to his was godlike. And then when he would kiss her, +though she would rebuke him, it was as though all heaven were in the +embrace. + +"And now good-bye. One kiss, darling." + +"No." + +"Not a kiss when I am going?" + +"I don't want you to go. Oh, Fred! Well;--there. Good-bye, my own, own, +own beloved one. You'll be here on Monday?" + +"Yes,--on Monday." + +"And be in the boat four hours, and here four minutes. Don't I know +you?" But he went without answering this last accusation. + +"What shall we do, Kate, if he deceives us?" said the mother that +evening. + +"Die. But I am sure he will not deceive us." + +Neville, as he made his way down to Liscannor, where his gig was waiting +for him, did ask himself some serious questions about his adventure. +What must be the end of it? And had he not been imprudent? It may be +declared on his behalf that no idea of treachery to the girl ever +crossed his mind. He loved her too thoroughly for that. He did love +her--not perhaps as she loved him. He had many things in the world to +occupy his mind, and she had but one. He was almost a god to her. She to +him was simply the sweetest girl that he had ever as yet seen, and one +who had that peculiar merit that she was all his own. No other man had +ever pressed her hand, or drank her sweet breath. Was not such a love a +thousand times sweeter than that of some girl who had been hurried from +drawing-room to drawing-room, and perhaps from one vow of constancy to +another for half-a-dozen years? The adventure was very sweet. But how +was it to end? His uncle might live these ten years, and he had not the +heart,--nor yet the courage,--to present her to his uncle as his bride. + +When he reached Ennis that evening there was a despatch marked +"Immediate," from his aunt Lady Scroope. "Your uncle is very +ill;--dangerously ill, we fear. His great desire is to see you once +again. Pray come without losing an hour." + +Early on the following morning he started for Dublin, but before he +went to bed that night he not only wrote to Kate O'Hara, but enclosed +the note from his aunt. He could understand that though the tidings of +his uncle's danger was a shock to him there would be something in the +tidings which would cause joy to the two inmates of Ardkill Cottage. +When he sent that letter with his own, he was of course determined that +he would marry Kate O'Hara as soon as he was a free man. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +FRED NEVILLE RETURNS TO SCROOPE. + + +The suddenness of the demand made for the heir's presence at Scroope was +perhaps not owing to the Earl's illness alone. The Earl, indeed, was +ill,--so ill that he thought himself that his end was very near; but his +illness had been brought about chiefly by the misery to which he had +been subjected by the last despatch from Castle Quin to the Countess. "I +am most unwilling," she said, "to make mischief or to give unnecessary +pain to you or to Lord Scroope; but I think it my duty to let you know +that the general opinion about here is that Mr. Neville shall make Miss +O'Hara his wife,--_if he has not done so already_. The most dangerous +feature in the whole matter is that it is all managed by the priest of +this parish, a most unscrupulous person, who would do anything,--he +is so daring. We have known him many many years, and we know to what +lengths he would go. The laws have been so altered in favour of the +Roman Catholics, and against the Protestants, that a priest can do +almost just what he likes. I do not think that he would scruple for an +instant to marry them if he thought it likely that his prey would escape +from him. My own opinion is that there has been no marriage as yet, +though I know that others think that there has been." The expression of +this opinion from "others" which had reached Lady Mary's ears consisted +of an assurance from her own Protestant lady's maid that that wicked, +guzzling old Father Marty would marry the young couple as soon as look +at them, and very likely had done so already. "I cannot say," continued +Lady Mary, "that I actually know anything against the character of Miss +O'Hara. Of the mother we have very strange stories here. They live in a +little cottage with one maid-servant, almost upon the cliffs, and nobody +knows anything about them except the priest. If he should be seduced +into a marriage, nothing could be more unfortunate." Lady Mary probably +intended to insinuate that were young Neville prudently to get out of +the adventure, simply leaving the girl behind him blasted, ruined, and +destroyed, the matter no doubt would be bad; but in that case the great +misfortune would have been avoided. She could not quite say this in +plain words; but she felt, no doubt, that Lady Scroope would understand +her. Then Lady Mary went on to assure her friend that though she and her +father and sisters very greatly regretted that Mr. Neville had not again +given them the pleasure of seeing him at Castle Quin, no feeling of +injury on that score had induced her to write so strongly as she had +done. She had been prompted to do so simply by her desire to prevent _a +most ruinous alliance_. + +Lady Scroope acknowledged entirely the truth of these last words. Such +an alliance would be most ruinous! But what could she do? Were she to +write to Fred and tell him all that she heard,--throwing to the winds +Lady Mary's stupid injunctions respecting secrecy, as she would not have +scrupled to do could she have thus obtained her object,--might it not be +quite possible that she would precipitate the calamity which she desired +so eagerly to avoid? Neither had she nor had her husband any power over +the young man, except such as arose from his own good feeling. The Earl +could not disinherit him;--could not put a single acre beyond his reach. +Let him marry whom he might he must be Earl Scroope of Scroope, and the +woman so married must be the Countess of Scroope. There was already a +Lady Neville about the world whose existence was a torture to them; and +if this young man chose also to marry a creature utterly beneath him and +to degrade the family, no effort on their part could prevent him. But +if, as seemed probable, he were yet free, and if he could be got to come +again among them, it might be that he still had left some feelings on +which they might work. No doubt there was the Neville obstinacy about +him; but he had seemed to both of them to acknowledge the sanctity of +his family, and to appreciate in some degree the duty which he owed to +it. + +The emergency was so great that she feared to act alone. She told +everything to her husband, shewing him Lady Mary's letter, and the +effect upon him was so great that it made him ill. "It will be better +for me," he said, "to turn my face to the wall and die before I know +it." He took to his bed, and they of his household did think that he +would die. He hardly spoke except to his wife, and when alone with +her did not cease to moan over the destruction which had come upon +the house. "If it could only have been the other brother," said Lady +Scroope. + +"There can be no change," said the Earl. "He must do as it lists him +with the fortune and the name and the honours of the family." + +Then on one morning there was a worse bulletin than heretofore given by +the doctor, and Lady Scroope at once sent off the letter which was to +recall the nephew to his uncle's bedside. The letter, as we have seen, +was successful, and Fred, who caused himself to be carried over from +Dorchester to Scroope as fast as post-horses could be made to gallop, +almost expected to be told on his arrival that his uncle had departed to +his rest. In the hall he encountered Mrs. Bunce the housekeeper. "We +think my lord is a little better," said Mrs. Bunce almost in a whisper. +"My lord took a little broth in the middle of the day, and we believe +he has slept since." Then he passed on and found his aunt in the small +sitting-room. His uncle had rallied a little, she told him. She was very +affectionate in her manner, and thanked him warmly for his alacrity in +coming. When he was told that his uncle would postpone his visit till +the next morning he almost began to think that he had been fussy in +travelling so quickly. + +That evening he dined alone with his aunt, and the conversation during +dinner and as they sat for a few minutes after dinner had reference +solely to his uncle's health. But, though they were alone on this +evening, he was surprised to find that Sophie Mellerby was again at +Scroope. Lady Sophia and Mr. Mellerby were up in London, but Sophie was +not to join them till May. As it happened, however, she was dining at +the parsonage this evening. She must have been in the house when Neville +arrived, but he had not seen her. "Is she going to live here?" he +asked, almost irreverently, when he was first told that she was in the +house. "I wish she were," said Lady Scroope. "I am childless, and she +is as dear to me as a daughter." Then Fred apologized, and expressed +himself as quite willing that Sophie Mellerby should live and die at +Scroope. + +The evening was dreadfully dull. It had seemed to him that the house was +darker, and gloomier, and more comfortless than ever. He had hurried +over to see a dying man, and now there was nothing for him to do but to +kick his heels. But before he went to bed his ennui was dissipated by +a full explanation of all his aunt's terrors. She crept down to him at +about nine, and having commenced her story by saying that she had a +matter of most vital importance on which to speak to him, she told him +in fact all that she had heard from Lady Mary. + +"She is a mischief-making gossiping old maid," said Neville angrily. + +"Will you tell me that there is no truth in what she writes?" asked Lady +Scroope. But this was a question which Fred Neville was not prepared to +answer, and he sat silent. "Fred, tell me the truth. Are you married?" + +"No;--I am not married." + +"I know that you will not condescend to an untruth." + +"If so, my word must be sufficient." + +But it was not sufficient. She longed to extract from him some repeated +and prolonged assurance which might bring satisfaction to her own +mind. "I am glad, at any rate, to hear that there is no truth in that +suspicion." To this he would not condescend to reply, but sat glowering +at her as though in wrath that any question should be asked him about +his private concerns. "You must feel, Fred, for your uncle in such a +matter. You must know how important this is to him. You have heard what +he has already suffered; and you must know too that he has endeavoured +to be very good to you." + +"I do know that he has,--been very good to me." + +"Perhaps you are angry with me for interfering." He would not deny that +he was angry. "I should not do so were it not that your uncle is ill and +suffering." + +"You have asked me a question and I have answered it. I do not know what +more you want of me." + +"Will you say that there is no truth in all this that Lady Mary says?" + +"Lady Mary is an impertinent old maid." + +"If you were in your uncle's place, and if you had an heir as to whose +character in the world you were anxious, you would not think anyone +impertinent who endeavoured for the sake of friendship to save your +name and family from a disreputable connexion." + +"I have made no disreputable connexion. I will not allow the word +disreputable to be used in regard to any of my friends." + +"You do know people of the name of O'Hara?" + +"Of course I do." + +"And there is a--young lady?" + +"I may know a dozen young ladies as to whom I shall not choose to +consult Lady Mary Quin." + +"You understand what I mean, Fred. Of course I do not wish to ask you +anything about your general acquaintances. No doubt you meet many girls +whom you admire, and I should be very foolish were I to make inquiries +of you or of anybody else concerning them. I am the last person to be so +injudicious. If you will tell me that there is not and never shall be +any question of marriage between you and Miss O'Hara, I will not say +another word." + +"I will not pledge myself to anything for the future." + +"You told your uncle you would never make a marriage that should be +disgraceful to the position which you will be called upon to fill." + +"Nor will I." + +"But would not this marriage be disgraceful, even were the young lady +ever so estimable? How are the old families of the country to be kept +up, and the old blood maintained if young men, such as you are, will not +remember something of all that is due to the name which they bear." + +"I do not know that I have forgotten anything." + +Then she paused before she could summon courage to ask him another +question. "You have made no promise of marriage to Miss O'Hara?" He sat +dumb, but still looking at her with that angry frown. "Surely your uncle +has a right to expect that you will answer that question." + +"I am quite sure that for his sake it will be much better that no such +questions shall be asked me." + +In point of fact he had answered the question. When he would not deny +that such promise had been made, there could no longer be any doubt of +the truth of what Lady Mary had written. Of course the whole truth had +now been elicited. He was not married but he was engaged;--engaged to +a girl of whom he knew nothing, a Roman Catholic, Irish, fatherless, +almost nameless,--to one who had never been seen in good society, one of +whom no description could be given, of whom no record could be made in +the peerage that would not be altogether disgraceful, a girl of whom he +was ashamed to speak before those to whom he owed duty and submission! + +That there might be a way to escape the evil even yet Lady Scroope +acknowledged to herself fully. Many men promise marriage but do not +keep the promise they have made. This lady, who herself was really +good,--unselfish, affectionate, religious, actuated by a sense of +duty in all that she did, whose life had been almost austerely moral, +entertained an idea that young men, such as Fred Neville, very commonly +made such promises with very little thought of keeping them. She did not +expect young men to be governed by principles such as those to which +young ladies are bound to submit themselves. She almost supposed that +heaven had a different code of laws for men and women in her condition +of life, and that salvation was offered on very different terms to the +two sexes. The breach of any such promise as the heir of Scroope could +have made to such a girl as this Miss O'Hara would be a perjury at which +Jove might certainly be expected to laugh. But in her catalogue there +were sins for which no young men could hope to be forgiven; and the sin +of such a marriage as this would certainly be beyond pardon. + +Of the injury which was to be done to Miss O'Hara, it may be said with +certainty that she thought not at all. In her eyes it would be no +injury, but simple justice,--no more than a proper punishment for +intrigue and wicked ambition. Without having seen the enemy to the +family of Scroope, or even having heard a word to her disparagement, she +could feel sure that the girl was bad,--that these O'Haras were vulgar +and false impostors, persons against whom she could put out all her +strength without any prick of conscience. Women in such matters are +always hard against women, and especially hard against those whom they +believe to belong to a class below their own. Certainly no feeling of +mercy would induce her to hold her hand in this task of saving her +husband's nephew from an ill-assorted marriage. Mercy to Miss O'Hara! +Lady Scroope had the name of being a very charitable woman. She gave +away money. She visited the poor. She had laboured hard to make the +cottages on the estate clean and comfortable. She denied herself many +things that she might give to others. But she would have no more mercy +on such a one as Miss O'Hara, than a farmer's labourer would have on a +rat! + +There was nothing more now to be said to the heir;--nothing more for the +present that could serve the purpose which she had in hand. "Your uncle +is very ill," she murmured. + +"I was so sorry to hear it." + +"We hope now that he may recover. For the last two days the doctor has +told us that we may hope." + +"I am so glad to find that it is so." + +"I am sure you are. You will see him to-morrow after breakfast. He is +most anxious to see you. I think sometimes you hardly reflect how much +you are to him." + +"I don't know why you should say so." + +"You had better not speak to him to-morrow about this affair,--of the +Irish young lady." + +"Certainly not,--unless he speaks to me about it." + +"He is hardly strong enough yet. But no doubt he will do so before you +leave us. I hope it may be long before you do that." + +"It can't be very long, Aunt Mary." To this she said nothing, but bade +him good-night and he was left alone. It was now past ten, and he +supposed that Miss Mellerby had come in and gone to her room. Why she +should avoid him in this way he could not understand. But as for Miss +Mellerby herself, she was so little to him that he cared not at all +whether he did or did not see her. All his brightest thoughts were away +in County Clare, on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. They might say +what they liked to him, but he would never be untrue to the girl whom +he had left there. His aunt had spoken of the "affair of--the Irish +young lady;" and he had quite understood the sneer with which she had +mentioned Kate's nationality. Why should not an Irish girl be as good as +any English girl? Of one thing he was quite sure,--that there was much +more of real life to be found on the cliffs of Moher than in the gloomy +chambers of Scroope Manor. + +He got up from his seat feeling absolutely at a loss how to employ +himself. Of course he could go to bed, but how terribly dull must life +be in a place in which he was obliged to go to bed at ten o'clock +because there was nothing to do. And since he had been there his only +occupation had been that of listening to his aunt's sermons. He began +to think that a man might pay too dearly even for being the heir to +Scroope. After sitting awhile in the dark gloom created by a pair of +candles, he got up and wandered into the large unused dining-room of the +mansion. It was a chamber over forty feet long, with dark flock paper +and dark curtains, with dark painted wainscoating below the paper, and +huge dark mahogany furniture. On the walls hung the portraits of the +Scroopes for many generations past, some in armour, some in their robes +of state, ladies with stiff bodices and high head-dresses, not beauties +by Lely or warriors and statesmen by Kneller, but wooden, stiff, +ungainly, hideous figures, by artists whose works had, unfortunately, +been more enduring than their names. He was pacing up and down the room +with a candle in his hand, trying to realize to himself what life at +Scroope might be with a wife of his aunt's choosing, and his aunt to +keep the house for them, when a door was opened at the end of the room, +away from that by which he had entered, and with a soft noiseless step +Miss Mellerby entered. She did not see him at first, as the light of her +own candle was in her eyes, and she was startled when he spoke to her. +His first idea was one of surprise that she should be wandering about +the house alone at night. "Oh, Mr. Neville," she said, "you quite took +me by surprise. How do you do? I did not expect to meet you here." + +"Nor I you!" + +"Since Lord Scroope has been so ill, Lady Scroope has been sleeping in +the little room next to his, downstairs, and I have just come from her." + +"What do you think of my uncle's state?" + +"He is better; but he is very weak." + +"You see him?" + +"Oh yes, daily. He is so anxious to see you, Mr. Neville, and so much +obliged to you for coming. I was sure that you would come." + +"Of course I came." + +"He wanted to see you this afternoon; but the doctor had expressly +ordered that he should be kept quiet. Good-night. I am so very glad that +you are here. I am sure that you will be good to him." + +Why should she be glad, and why should she be sure that he would be +good to his uncle? Could it be that she also had been told the story of +Kate O'Hara? Then, as no other occupation was possible to him, he took +himself to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +FRED NEVILLE'S SCHEME. + + +On the next morning after breakfast Neville was taken into his uncle's +chamber, but there was an understanding that there was to be no +conversation on disagreeable subjects on this occasion. His aunt +remained in the room while he was there, and the conversation was +almost confined to the expression of thanks on the part of the Earl to +his nephew for coming, and of hopes on the part of the nephew that his +uncle might soon be well. One matter was mooted as to which no doubt +much would be said before Neville could get away. "I thought it better +to make arrangements to stay a fortnight," said Fred,--as though a +fortnight were a very long time indeed. + +"A fortnight!" said the Earl. + +"We won't talk of his going yet," replied Lady Scroope. + +"Supposing I had died, he could not have gone back in a fortnight," said +the Earl in a low moaning voice. + +"My dear uncle, I hope that I may live to see you in your own place here +at Scroope for many years to come." The Earl shook his head, but nothing +more was then said on that subject. Fred, however, had carried out his +purpose. He had been determined to let them understand that he would not +hold himself bound to remain long at Scroope Manor. + +Then he wrote a letter to his own Kate. It was the first time he had +addressed her in this fashion, and though he was somewhat of a gallant +gay Lothario, the writing of the letter was an excitement to him. If so, +what must the receipt of it have been to Kate O'Hara! He had promised +her that he would write to her, and from the moment that he was gone she +was anxious to send in to the post-office at Ennistimon for the treasure +which the mail car might bring to her. When she did get it, it was +indeed a treasure. To a girl who really loves, the first love letter is +a thing as holy as the recollection of the first kiss. "May I see it, +Kate?" said Mrs. O'Hara, as her daughter sat poring over the scrap of +paper by the window. + +"Yes, mamma,--if you please." Then she paused a moment. "But I think +that I had rather you did not. Perhaps he did not mean me to shew it." +The mother did not urge her request, but contented herself with coming +up behind her child and kissing her. The reader, however, shall have the +privilege which was denied to Mrs. O'Hara. + + + DEAREST KATE, + + I got here all alive yesterday at four. I came on as fast as ever + I could travel, and hardly got a mouthful to eat after I left + Limerick. I never saw such beastliness as they have at the stations. + My uncle is much better,--so much so that I shan't remain here very + long. I can't tell you any particular news,--except this, that + that old cat down at Castle Quin,--the one with the crisp-curled + wig,--must have the nose of a dog and the ears of a cat and the eyes + of a bird, and she sends word to Scroope of everything that she + smells and hears and sees. It makes not the slightest difference to + me,--nor to you I should think. Only I hate such interference. The + truth is old maids have nothing else to do. If I were you I wouldn't + be an old maid. + + I can't quite say how long it will be before I am back at + Ardkill, but not a day longer than I can help. Address to Scroope, + Dorsetshire,--that will be enough;--to F. Neville, Esq. Give my + love to your mother.--As for yourself, dear Kate, if you care for + my love, you may weigh mine for your own dear self with your own + weights and measures. Indeed you have all my heart. + + Your own F. N. + + There is a young lady here whom it is intended that I shall marry. + She is the pink of propriety and really very pretty;--but you need + not be a bit jealous. The joke is that my brother is furiously in + love with her, and that I fancy she would be just as much in love + with him only that she's told not to.--A thousand kisses. + + +It was not much of a love letter, but there were a few words in it which +sufficed altogether for Kate's happiness. She was told that she had +all his heart,--and she believed it. She was told that she need not be +jealous of the proper young lady, and she believed that too. He sent +her a thousand kisses; and she, thinking that he might have kissed the +paper, pressed it to her lips. At any rate his hand had rested on it. +She would have been quite willing to shew to her mother all these +expressions of her lover's love; but she felt that it would not be fair +to him to expose his allusions to the "beastliness" at the stations. He +might say what he liked to her; but she understood that she was not at +liberty to shew to others words which had been addressed to her in the +freedom of perfect intimacy. + +"Does he say anything of the old man?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"He says that his uncle is better." + +"Threatened folks live long. Does Neville tell you when he will be +back?" + +"Not exactly; but he says that he will not stay long. He does not like +Scroope at all. I knew that. He always says that,--that--" + +"Says what, dear?" + +"When we are married he will go away somewhere,--to Italy or Greece or +somewhere. Scroope he says is so gloomy." + +"And where shall I go?" + +"Oh, mother;--you shall be with us, always." + +"No, dear, you must not dream of that. When you have him you will not +want me." + +"Dear mother. I shall want you always." + +"He will not want me. We have no right to expect too much from him, +Kate. That he shall make you his wife we have a right to expect. If he +were false to you--" + +"He is not false. Why should you think him false?" + +"I do not think it; but if he were--! Never mind. If he be true to you, +I will not burden him. If I can see you happy, Kate, I will bear all the +rest." That which she would have to bear would be utter solitude for +life. She could look forward and see how black and tedious would be her +days; but all that would be nothing to her if her child were lifted up +on high. + +It was now the beginning of April, which for sportsmen in England is +of all seasons the most desperate. Hunting is over. There is literally +nothing to shoot. And fishing,--even if there were fishing in England +worth a man's time,--has not begun. A gentleman of enterprise driven +very hard in this respect used to declare that there was no remedy for +April but to go and fly hawks in Holland. Fred Neville could not fly +hawks at Scroope, and found that there was nothing for him to do. Miss +Mellerby suggested--books. "I like books better than anything," said +Fred. "I always have a lot of novels down at our quarters. But a fellow +can't be reading all day, and there isn't a novel in the house except +Walter Scott's and a lot of old rubbish. By-the-bye have you read 'All +Isn't Gold That Glitters?'" Miss Mellerby had not read the tale named. +"That's what I call a good novel." + +Day passed after day and it seemed as though he was expected to remain +at Scroope without any definite purpose, and, worse still, without any +fixed limit to his visit. At his aunt's instigation he rode about the +property and asked questions as to the tenants. It was all to be his +own, and in the course of nature must be his own very soon. There could +not but be an interest for him in every cottage and every field. But yet +there was present to him all the time a schoolboy feeling that he was +doing a task; and the occupation was not pleasant to him because it was +a task. The steward was with him as a kind of pedagogue, and continued +to instruct him during the whole ride. This man only paid so much +a year, and the rent ought to be so much more; but there were +circumstances. And "My Lord" had been peculiarly good. This farm was +supposed to be the best on the estate, and that other the worst. Oh +yes, there were plenty of foxes. "My Lord" had always insisted that the +foxes should be preserved. Some of the hunting gentry no doubt had made +complaints, but it was a great shame. Foxes had been seen, two or three +at a time, the very day after the coverts had been drawn blank. As for +game, a head of game could be got up very soon, as there was plenty of +corn and the woods were large; but "My Lord" had never cared for game. +The farmers all shot the rabbits on their own land. Rents were paid to +the day. There was never any mistake about that. Of course the land +would require to be re-valued, but "My Lord" wouldn't hear of such a +thing being done in his time. The Manor wood wanted thinning very badly. +The wood had been a good deal neglected. "My Lord" had never liked to +hear the axe going. That was Grumby Green and the boundary of the estate +in that direction. The next farm was college property, and was rented +five shillings an acre dearer than "My Lord's" land. If Mr. Neville +wished it the steward would show him the limit of the estate on the +other side to-morrow. No doubt there was a plan of the estate. It was +in "My Lord's" own room, and would shew every farm with its acreage and +bounds. Fred thought that he would study this plan on the next day +instead of riding about with the steward. + +He could not escape from the feeling that he was being taught his lesson +like a school-boy, and he did not like it. He longed for the freedom +of his boat on the Irish coast, and longed for the devotedness of Kate +O'Hara. He was sure that he loved her so thoroughly that life without +her was not to be regarded as possible. But certain vague ideas very +injurious to the Kate he so dearly loved crossed his brain. Under the +constant teaching of his aunt he did recognize it as a fact that he +owed a high duty to his family. For many days after that first night at +Scroope not a word was said to him about Kate O'Hara. He saw his uncle +daily,--probably twice a day; but the Earl never alluded to his Irish +love. Lady Scroope spoke constantly of the greatness of the position +which the heir was called upon to fill and of all that was due to the +honour of the family. Fred, as he heard her, would shake his head +impatiently, but would acknowledge the truth of what she said. He was +induced even to repeat the promise which he had made to his uncle, +and to assure his aunt that he would do nothing to mar or lessen the +dignity of the name of Neville. He did become, within his own mind, +indoctrinated with the idea that he would injure the position of the +earldom which was to be his were he to marry Kate O'Hara. Arguments +which had appeared to him to be absurd when treated with ridicule by +Father Marty, and which in regard to his own conduct he had determined +to treat as old women's tales, seemed to him at Scroope to be true +and binding. The atmosphere of the place, the companionship of Miss +Mellerby, the reverence with which he himself was treated by the +domestics, the signs of high nobility which surrounded him on all sides, +had their effect upon him. Noblesse oblige. He felt that it was so. Then +there crossed his brain visions of a future life which were injurious to +the girl he loved. + +Let his brother Jack come and live at Scroope and marry Sophie Mellerby. +As long as he lived Jack could not be the Earl, but in regard to money +he would willingly make such arrangements as would enable his brother +to maintain the dignity and state of the house. They would divide the +income. And then he would so arrange his matters with Kate O'Hara that +his brother's son should be heir to the Earldom. He had some glimmering +of an idea that as Kate was a Roman Catholic a marriage ceremony might +be contrived of which this would become the necessary result. There +should be no deceit. Kate should know it all, and everything should be +done to make her happy. He would live abroad, and would not call himself +by his title. They would be Mr. and Mrs. Neville. As to the property, +that must of course hereafter go with the title, but in giving up so +much to his brother, he could of course arrange as to the provision +necessary for any children of his own. No doubt his Kate would like to +be the Countess Scroope,--would prefer that a future son of her own +should be the future Earl. But as he was ready to abandon so much, +surely she would be ready to abandon something. He must explain to +her,--and to her mother,--that under no other circumstances could he +marry her. He must tell her of pledges made to his uncle before he knew +her, of the duty which he owed to his family, and of his own great +dislike to the kind of life which would await him as acting head of the +family. No doubt there would be scenes,--and his heart quailed as he +remembered certain glances which had flashed upon him from the eyes of +Mrs. O'Hara. But was he not offering to give up everything for his love? +His Kate should be his wife after some Roman Catholic fashion in some +Roman Catholic country. Of course there would be difficulties,--the +least of which would not be those glances from the angry mother; but +it would be his business to overcome difficulties. There were always +difficulties in the way of any man who chose to leave the common grooves +of life and to make a separate way for himself. There were always +difficulties in the way of adventures. Dear Kate! He would never desert +his Kate. But his Kate must do as much as this for him. Did he not +intend that, whatever good things the world might have in store for him, +his Kate should share them all? + +His ideas were very hazy, and he knew himself that he was ignorant of +the laws respecting marriage. It occurred to him, therefore, that he had +better consult his brother, and confide everything to him. That Jack was +wiser than he, he was always willing to allow; and although he did in +some sort look down upon Jack as a plodding fellow, who shot no seals +and cared nothing for adventure, still he felt it to be almost a pity +that Jack should not be the future Earl. So he told his aunt that he +proposed to ask his brother to come to Scroope for a day or two before +he returned to Ireland. Had his aunt, or would his uncle have, any +objection? Lady Scroope did not dare to object. She by no means wished +that her younger nephew should again be brought within the influence +of Miss Mellerby's charms; but it would not suit her purpose to give +offence to the heir by refusing so reasonable request. He would have +been off to join his brother at Woolwich immediately. So the invitation +was sent, and Jack Neville promised that he would come. + +Fred knew nothing of the offer that had been made to Miss Mellerby, +though he had been sharp enough to discern his brother's feelings. "My +brother is coming here to-morrow," he said one morning to Miss Mellerby +when they were alone together. + +"So Lady Scroope has told me. I don't wonder that you should wish to see +him." + +"I hope everybody will be glad to see him. Jack is just about the very +best fellow in the world;--and he's one of the cleverest too." + +"It is so nice to hear one brother speak in that way of another." + +"I swear by Jack. He ought to have been the elder brother;--that's the +truth. Don't you like him?" + +"Who;--I. Oh, yes, indeed. What I saw of him I liked very much." + +"Isn't it a pity that he shouldn't have been the elder?" + +"I can't say that, Mr. Neville." + +"No. It wouldn't be just civil to me. But I can say it. When we were +here last winter I thought that my brother was--" + +"Was what, Mr Neville?" + +"Was getting to be very fond of you. Perhaps I ought not to say so." + +"I don't think that much good is ever done by saying that kind of +thing," said Miss Mellerby gravely. + +"It cannot at any rate do any harm in this case. I wish with all my +heart that he was fond of you and you of him." + +"That is all nonsense. Indeed it is." + +"I am not saying it without an object. I don't see why you and I should +not understand one another. If I tell you a secret will you keep it?" + +"Do not tell me any secret that I must keep from Lady Scroope." + +"But that is just what you must do." + +"But then suppose I don't do it," said Miss Mellerby. + +But Fred was determined to tell his secret. "The truth is that both my +uncle and my aunt want me to fall in love with you." + +"How very kind of them," said she with a little forced laugh. + +"I don't for a moment think that, had I tried it on ever so, I could +have succeeded. I am not at all the sort of man to be conceited in that +way. Wishing to do the best they could for me, they picked you out. It +isn't that I don't think as well of you as they do, but--" + +"Really, Mr. Neville, this is the oddest conversation." + +"Quite true. It is odd. But the fact is you are here, and there is +nobody else I can talk to. And I want you to know the exact truth. I'm +engaged to--somebody else." + +"I ought to break my heart;--oughtn't I?" + +"I don't in the least mind your laughing at me. I should have minded it +very much if I had asked you to marry me, and you had refused me." + +"You haven't given me the chance, you see." + +"I didn't mean. What was the good?" + +"Certainly not, Mr. Neville, if you are engaged to some one else. I +shouldn't like to be Number Two." + +"I'm in a peck of troubles;--that's the truth. I would change places +with my brother to-morrow if I could. I daresay you don't believe that, +but I would. I will not vex my uncle if I can help it, but I certainly +shall not throw over the girl who loves me. If it wasn't for the title, +I'd give up Scroope to my brother to-morrow, and go and live in some +place where I could get lots of shooting, and where I should never have +to put on a white choker." + +"You'll think better of all that." + +"Well!--I've just told you everything because I like to be on the +square. I wish you knew Kate O'Hara. I'm sure you would not wonder that +a fellow should love her. I had rather you didn't tell my aunt what I +have told you; but if you choose to do so, I can't help it." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE WISDOM OF JACK NEVILLE. + + +Neville had been forced to get his leave of absence renewed on the score +of his uncle's health, and had promised to prolong his absence till the +end of April. When doing so he had declared his intention of returning +to Ennis in the beginning of May; but no agreement to that had as yet +been expressed by his uncle or aunt. Towards the end of the month his +brother came to Scroope, and up to that time not a word further had been +said to him respecting Kate O'Hara. + +He had received an answer from Kate to his letter, prepared in a fashion +very different from that of his own. He had seated himself at a table +and in compliance with the pledge given by him, had scrawled off his +epistle as fast as he could write it. She had taken a whole morning to +think of hers, and had re-copied it after composing it, and had then +read it with the utmost care, confessing to herself, almost with tears, +that it was altogether unworthy of him to whom it was to be sent. It was +the first love letter she had ever written,--probably the first letter +she had ever written to a man, except those short notes which she would +occasionally scrawl to Father Marty in compliance with her mother's +directions. The letter to Fred was as follows;-- + + + ARDKILL COTTAGE, + 10th April, 18--. + + MY DEAREST FRED, + + I received your dear letter three or four days ago, and it made me + so happy. We were sorry that you should have such an uncomfortable + journey; but all that would be over and soon forgotten when you + found yourself in your comfortable home and among your own friends. + I am very glad to hear that your uncle is better. The thought of + finding him so ill must have made your journey very sad. As he is + so much better, I suppose you will come back soon to your poor + little Kate. + + There is no news at all to send you from Liscannor. Father Marty + was up here yesterday and says that your boat is all safe at + Lahinch. He says that Barney Morony is an idle fellow, but as he + has nothing to do he can't help being idle. You should come back + and not let him be idle any more. I think the sea gulls know that + you are away, because they are wheeling and screaming about louder + and bolder than ever. + + Mother sends her best love. She is very well. We have had nothing + to eat since you went because it has been Lent. So, if you had + been here, you would not have been able to get a bit of luncheon. + I dare say you have been a great deal better off at Scroope. + Father Marty says that you Protestants will have to keep your + Lent hereafter,--eighty days at a time instead of forty; and that + we Catholics will be allowed to eat just what we like, while you + Protestants will have to look on at us. If so, I think I'll manage + to give you a little bit. + + Do come back to your own Kate as soon as you can. I need not tell + you that I love you better than all the world because you know it + already. I am not a bit jealous of the proper young lady, and I + hope that she will fall in love with your brother. Then some day + we shall be sisters;--shan't we? I should like to have a proper + young lady for my sister so much. Only, perhaps she would despise + me. Do come back soon. Everything is so dull while you are away! + You would come back to your own Kate if you knew how great a joy + it is to her when she sees you coming along the cliff. + + Dearest, dearest love, I am always your own, own + + KATE O'HARA. + + +Neville thought of showing Kate's letter to Miss Mellerby, but when +he read it a second time he made up his mind that he would keep it to +himself. The letter was all very well, and, as regarded the expressions +towards himself, just what it should be. But he felt that it was not +such a letter as Miss Mellerby would have written herself, and he was +a little ashamed of all that was said about the priest. Neither was he +proud of the pretty, finished, French hand-writing, over every letter of +which his love had taken so much pains. In truth, Kate O'Hara was better +educated than himself, and perhaps knew as much as Sophie Mellerby. She +could have written her letter quite as well in French as in English, and +she did understand something of the formation of her sentences. Fred +Neville had been at an excellent school, but it may be doubted whether +he could have explained his own written language. Nevertheless he was +a little ashamed of his Kate, and thought that Miss Mellerby might +perceive her ignorance if he shewed her letter. + +He had sent for his brother in order that he might explain his scheme +and get his brother's advice;--but he found it very difficult to explain +his scheme to Jack Neville. Jack, indeed, from the very first would +not allow that the scheme was in any way practicable. "I don't quite +understand, Fred, what you mean. You don't intend to deceive her by a +false marriage?" + +"Most assuredly not. I do not intend to deceive her at all." + +"You must make her your wife, or not make her your wife." + +"Undoubtedly she will be my wife. I am quite determined about that. She +has my word,--and over and above that, she is dearer to me than anything +else." + +"If you marry her, her eldest son must of course be the heir to the +title." + +"I am not at all so sure of that. All manner of queer things may be +arranged by marriages with Roman Catholics." + +"Put that out of your head," said Jack Neville. "In the first place +you would certainly find yourself in a mess, and in the next place the +attempt itself would be dishonest. I dare say men have crept out of +marriages because they have been illegal; but a man who arranges a +marriage with the intention of creeping out of it is a scoundrel." + +"You needn't bully about it, Jack. You know very well that I don't mean +to creep out of anything." + +"I'm sure you don't. But as you ask me I must tell you what I think. You +are in a sort of dilemma between this girl and Uncle Scroope." + +"I'm not in any dilemma at all." + +"You seem to think you have made some promise to him which will be +broken if you marry her;--and I suppose you certainly have made her a +promise." + +"Which I certainly mean to keep," said Fred. + +"All right. Then you must break your promise to Uncle Scroope." + +"It was a sort of half and half promise. I could not bear to see him +making himself unhappy about it." + +"Just so. I suppose Miss O'Hara can wait." + +Fred Neville scratched his head. "Oh yes;--she can wait. There's nothing +to bind me to a day or a month. But my uncle may live for the next ten +years now." + +"My advice to you is to let Miss O'Hara understand clearly that you will +make no other engagement, but that you cannot marry her as long as your +uncle lives. Of course I say this on the supposition that the affair +cannot be broken off." + +"Certainly not," said Fred with a decision that was magnanimous. + +"I cannot think the engagement a fortunate one for you in your position. +Like should marry like. I'm quite sure of that. You would wish your +wife to be easily intimate with the sort of people among whom she would +naturally be thrown as Lady Scroope,--among the wives and daughters of +other Earls and such like." + +"No; I shouldn't." + +"I don't see how she would be comfortable in any other way." + +"I should never live among other Earls, as you call them. I hate that +kind of thing. I hate London. I should never live here." + +"What would you do?" + +"I should have a yacht, and live chiefly in that. I should go about +a good deal, and get into all manner of queer places. I don't say +but what I might spend a winter now and then in Leicestershire or +Northamptonshire, for I am fond of hunting. But I should have no regular +home. According to my scheme you should have this place,--and sufficient +of the income to maintain it of course." + +"That wouldn't do, Fred," said Jack, shaking his head,--"though I know +how generous you are." + +"Why wouldn't it do?" + +"You are the heir, and you must take the duties with the privileges. You +can have your yacht if you like a yacht,--but you'll soon get tired of +that kind of life. I take it that a yacht is a bad place for a nursery, +and inconvenient for one's old boots. When a man has a home fixed for +him by circumstances,--as you will have,--he gravitates towards it, +let his own supposed predilections be what they may. Circumstances are +stronger than predilections." + +"You're a philosopher." + +"I was always more sober than you, Fred." + +"I wish you had been the elder,--on the condition of the younger brother +having a tidy slice out of the property to make himself comfortable." + +"But I am not the elder, and you must take the position with all the +encumbrances. I see nothing for it but to ask Miss O'Hara to wait. If my +uncle lives long the probability is that one or the other of you will +change your minds, and that the affair will never come off." + +When the younger and wiser brother gave this advice he did not think +it all likely that Miss O'Hara would change her mind. Penniless young +ladies don't often change their minds when they are engaged to the heirs +of Earls. It was not at all probable that she should repent the bargain +that she had made. But Jack Neville did think it very probable that his +brother might do so;--and, indeed, felt sure that he would do so if +years were allowed to intervene. His residence in County Clare would not +be perpetual, and with him in his circumstances it might well be that +the young lady, being out of sight, should be out of mind. Jack could +not exactly declare his opinion on this head. His brother at present was +full of his promise, full of his love, full of his honour. Nor would +Jack have absolutely counselled him to break his word to the young +lady. But he thought it probable that in the event of delay poor Miss +O'Hara might go to the wall;--and he also thought that for the general +interests of the Scroope family it would be better that she should do +so. + +"And what are you going to do yourself?" asked Fred. + +"In respect of what?" + +"In respect of Miss Mellerby?" + +"In respect of Miss Mellerby I am not going to do anything," said Jack +as he walked away. + +In all that the younger brother said to the elder as to poor Kate O'Hara +he was no doubt wise and prudent; but in what he said about himself he +did not tell the truth. But then the question asked was one which a man +is hardly bound to answer, even to a brother. Jack Neville was much less +likely to talk about his love affairs than Fred, but not on that account +less likely to think about them. Sophie Mellerby had refused him once, +but young ladies have been known to marry gentlemen after refusing them +more than once. He at any rate was determined to persevere, having in +himself and in his affairs that silent faith of which the possessor is +so often unconscious, but which so generally leads to success. He found +Miss Mellerby to be very courteous to him if not gracious; and he had +the advantage of not being afraid of her. It did not strike him that +because she was the granddaughter of a duke, and because he was a +younger son, that therefore he ought not to dare to look at her. He +understood very well that she was brought there that Fred might marry +her;--but Fred was intent on marrying some one else, and Sophie Mellerby +was not a girl to throw her heart away upon a man who did not want +it. He had come to Scroope for only three days, but, in spite of some +watchfulness on the part of the Countess, he found his opportunity for +speaking before he left the house. "Miss Mellerby," he said, "I don't +know whether I ought to thank Fortune or to upbraid her for having again +brought me face to face with you." + +"I hope the evil is not so oppressive as to make you very loud in your +upbraidings." + +"They shall not at any rate be heard. I don't know whether there was any +spice of malice about my brother when he asked me to come here, and told +me in the same letter that you were at Scroope." + +"He must have meant it for malice, I should think," said the young lady, +endeavouring, but not quite successfully, to imitate the manner of the +man who loved her. + +"Of course I came." + +"Not on my behalf, I hope, Mr. Neville." + +"Altogether on your behalf. Fred's need to see me was not very great, +and, as my uncle had not asked me, and as my aunt, I fancy, does not +altogether approve of me, I certainly should not have come,--were it not +that I might find it difficult to get any other opportunity of seeing +you." + +"That is hardly fair to Lady Scroope, Mr. Neville." + +"Quite fair, I think. I did not come clandestinely. I am not ashamed +of what I am doing,--or of what I am going to do. I may be ashamed of +this,--that I should feel my chance of success to be so small. When I +was here before I asked you to--allow me to love you. I now ask you +again." + +"Allow you!" she said. + +"Yes;--allow me. I should be too bold were I to ask you to return my +love at once. I only ask you to know that because I was repulsed once, I +have not given up the pursuit." + +"Mr. Neville, I am sure that my father and mother would not permit it." + +"May I ask your father, Miss Mellerby?" + +"Certainly not,--with my permission." + +"Nevertheless you will not forget that I am suitor for your love?" + +"I will make no promise of anything, Mr. Neville." Then, fearing that +she had encouraged him, she spoke again. "I think you ought to take my +answer as final." + +"Miss Mellerby, I shall take no answer as final that is not favourable. +Should I indeed hear that you were to be married to another man, that +would be final; but that I shall not hear from your own lips. You will +say good-bye to me," and he offered her his hand. + +She gave him her hand;--and he raised it to his lips and kissed it, as +men were wont to do in the olden days. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +FRED NEVILLE MAKES A PROMISE. + + +Fred Neville felt that he had not received from his brother the +assistance or sympathy which he had required. He had intended to make +a very generous offer,--not indeed quite understanding how his offer +could be carried out, but still of a nature that should, he thought, +have bound his brother to his service. But Jack had simply answered him +by sermons;--by sermons and an assurance of the impracticability of +his scheme. Nevertheless he was by no means sure that his scheme was +impracticable. He was at least sure of this,--that no human power could +force him to adopt a mode of life that was distasteful to him. No one +could make him marry Sophie Mellerby, or any other Sophie, and maintain +a grand and gloomy house in Dorsetshire, spending his income, not in a +manner congenial to him, but in keeping a large retinue of servants +and taking what he called the "heavy line" of an English nobleman. +The property must be his own,--or at any rate the life use of it. He +swore to himself over and over again that nothing should induce him to +impoverish the family or to leave the general affairs of the house of +Scroope worse than he found them. Much less than half of that which he +understood to be the income coming from the estates would suffice for +him. But let his uncle or aunt,--or his strait-laced methodical brother, +say what they would to him, nothing should induce him to make himself a +slave to an earldom. + +But yet his mind was much confused and his contentment by no means +complete. He knew that there must be a disagreeable scene between +himself and his uncle before he returned to Ireland, and he knew also +that his uncle could, if he were so minded, stop his present very +liberal allowance altogether. There had been a bargain, no doubt, that +he should remain with his regiment for a year, and of that year six +months were still unexpired. His uncle could not quarrel with him for +going back to Ireland; but what answer should he make when his uncle +asked him whether he were engaged to marry Miss O'Hara,--as of course he +would ask; and what reply should he make when his uncle would demand of +him whether he thought such a marriage fit for a man in his position. He +knew that it was not fit. He believed in the title, in the sanctity of +the name, in the mysterious grandeur of the family. He did not think +that an Earl of Scroope ought to marry a girl of whom nothing whatever +was known. The pride of the position stuck to him;--but it irked him to +feel that the sacrifices necessary to support that pride should fall on +his own shoulders. + +One thing was impossible to him. He would not desert his Kate. But he +wished to have his Kate, as a thing apart. If he could have given six +months of each year to his Kate, living that yacht-life of which he had +spoken, visiting those strange sunny places which his imagination had +pictured to him, unshackled by conventionalities, beyond the sound of +church bells, unimpeded by any considerations of family,--and then have +migrated for the other six months to his earldom and his estates, to +his hunting and perhaps to Parliament, leaving his Kate behind him, +that would have been perfect. And why not? In the days which must come +so soon, he would be his own master. Who could impede his motions or +gainsay his will? Then he remembered his Kate's mother, and the glances +which would come from the mother's eyes. There might be difficulty even +though Scroope were all his own. + +He was not a villain;--simply a self-indulgent spoiled young man who had +realized to himself no idea of duty in life. He never once told himself +that Kate should be his mistress. In all the pictures which he drew for +himself of a future life everything was to be done for her happiness and +for her gratification. His yacht should be made a floating bower for +her delight. During those six months of the year which, and which only, +the provoking circumstances of his position would enable him to devote +to joy and love, her will should be his law. He did not think himself +to be fickle. He would never want another Kate. He would leave her +with sorrow. He would return to her with ecstasy. Everybody around him +should treat her with the respect due to an empress. But it would be +very expedient that she should be called Mrs. Neville instead of Lady +Scroope. Could things not be so arranged for him;--so arranged that he +might make a promise to his uncle, and yet be true to his Kate without +breaking his promise? That was his scheme. Jack said that his scheme was +impracticable. But the difficulties in his way were not, he thought, so +much those which Jack had propounded as the angry eyes of Kate O'Hara's +mother. + +At last the day was fixed for his departure. The Earl was already so +much better as to be able to leave his bedroom. Twice or thrice a day +Fred saw his uncle, and there was much said about the affairs of the +estate. The heir had taken some trouble, had visited some of the +tenants, and had striven to seem interested in the affairs of the +property. The Earl could talk for ever about the estate, every field, +every fence, almost every tree on which was familiar to him. That +his tenants should be easy in their circumstances, a protestant, +church-going, rent-paying people, son following father, and daughters +marrying as their mothers had married, unchanging, never sinking an inch +in the social scale, or rising,--this was the wish nearest to his heart. +Fred was well disposed to talk about the tenants as long as Kate O'Hara +was not mentioned. When the Earl would mournfully speak of his own +coming death, as an event which could not now be far distant, Fred with +fullest sincerity would promise that his wishes should be observed. No +rents should be raised. The axe should be but sparingly used. It seemed +to him strange that a man going into eternity should care about this +tree or that;--but as far as he was concerned the trees should stand +while Nature supported them. No servant should be dismissed. The +carriage horses should be allowed to die on the place. The old charities +should be maintained. The parson of the parish should always be a +welcome guest at the Manor. No promise was difficult for him to make so +long as that one question were left untouched. + +But when he spoke of the day of his departure as fixed,--as being "the +day after to-morrow,"--then he knew that the question must be touched. +"I am sorry,--very sorry, that you must go," said the Earl. + +"You see a man can't leave the service at a moment's notice." + +"I think that we could have got over that, Fred." + +"Perhaps as regards the service we might, but the regiment would think +ill of me. You see, so many things depend on a man's staying or going. +The youngsters mayn't have their money ready. I said I should remain +till October." + +"I don't at all wish to act the tyrant to you." + +"I know that, uncle." + +Then there was a pause. "I haven't spoken to you yet, Fred, on a matter +which has caused me a great deal of uneasiness. When you first came I +was not strong enough to allude to it, and I left it to your aunt." +Neville knew well what was coming now, and was aware that he was moved +in a manner that hardly became his manhood. "Your aunt tells me that you +have got into some trouble with a young lady in the west of Ireland." + +"No trouble, uncle, I hope." + +"Who is she?" + +Then there was another pause, but he gave a direct answer to the +question. "She is a Miss O'Hara." + +"A Roman Catholic?" + +"Yes." + +"A girl of whose family you know nothing?" + +"I know that she lives with her mother." + +"In absolute obscurity,--and poverty?" + +"They are not rich," said Fred. + +"Do not suppose that I regard poverty as a fault. It is not necessary +that you should marry a girl with any fortune." + +"I suppose not, Uncle Scroope." + +"But I understand that this young lady is quite beneath yourself in +life. She lives with her mother in a little cottage, without +servants,--" + +"There is a servant." + +"You know what I mean, Fred. She does not live as ladies live. She is +uneducated." + +"You are wrong there, my lord. She has been at an excellent school in +France." + +"In France! Who was her father, and what?" + +"I do not know what her father was;--a Captain O'Hara, I believe." + +"And you would marry such a girl as that;--a Roman Catholic; picked up +on the Irish coast,--one of whom nobody knows even her parentage or +perhaps her real name? It would kill me, Fred." + +"I have not said that I mean to marry her." + +"But what do you mean? Would you ruin her;--seduce her by false promises +and then leave her? Do you tell me that in cold blood you look forward +to such a deed as that?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I hope not, my boy; I hope not that. Do not tell me that a heartless +scoundrel is to take my name when I am gone." + +"I am not a heartless scoundrel," said Fred Neville, jumping up from his +seat. + +"Then what is it that you mean? You have thought, have you not, of the +duties of the high position to which you are called? You do not suppose +that wealth is to be given to you, and a great name, and all the +appanages and power of nobility, in order that you may eat more, and +drink more, and lie softer than others. It is because some think so, and +act upon such base thoughts, that the only hereditary peerage left in +the world is in danger of encountering the ill will of the people. Are +you willing to be known only as one of those who have disgraced their +order?" + +"I do not mean to disgrace it." + +"But you will disgrace it if you marry such a girl as that. If she were +fit to be your wife, would not the family of Lord Kilfenora have known +her?" + +"I don't think much of their not knowing her, uncle." + +"Who does know her? Who can say that she is even what she pretends to +be? Did you not promise me that you would make no such marriage?" + +He was not strong to defend his Kate. Such defence would have been in +opposition to his own ideas, in antagonism with the scheme which he had +made for himself. He understood, almost as well as did his uncle, that +Kate O'Hara ought not to be made Countess of Scroope. He too thought +that were she to be presented to the world as the Countess of Scroope, +she would disgrace the title. And yet he would not be a villain! And yet +he would not give her up! He could only fall back upon his scheme. "Miss +O'Hara is as good as gold," he said; "but I acknowledge that she is not +fit to be mistress of this house." + +"Fred," said the Earl, almost in a passion of affectionate solicitude, +"do not go back to Ireland. We will arrange about the regiment. No harm +shall be done to any one. My health will be your excuse, and the lawyers +shall arrange it all." + +"I must go back," said Neville. Then the Earl fell back in his chair and +covered his face with his hands. "I must go back; but I will give you my +honour as a gentleman to do nothing that shall distress you." + +"You will not marry her?" + +"No." + +"And, oh, Fred, as you value your own soul, do not injure a poor girl +so desolate as that. Tell her and tell her mother the honest truth. If +there be tears, will not that be better than sorrow, and disgrace, and +ruin?" Among evils there must always be a choice; and the Earl thought +that a broken promise was the lightest of those evils to a choice among +which his nephew had subjected himself. + +And so the interview was over, and there had been no quarrel. Fred +Neville had given the Earl a positive promise that he would not marry +Kate O'Hara,--to whom he had sworn a thousand times that she should +be his wife. Such a promise, however,--so he told himself--is never +intended to prevail beyond the lifetime of the person to whom it is +made. He had bound himself not to marry Kate O'Hara while his uncle +lived, and that was all. + +Or might it not be better to take his uncle's advice altogether and tell +the truth,--not to Kate, for that he could not do,--but to Mrs. O'Hara +or to Father Marty? As he thought of this he acknowledged to himself +that the task of telling such a truth to Mrs. O'Hara would be almost +beyond his strength. Could he not throw himself upon the priest's +charity, and leave it all to him? Then he thought of his own Kate, and +some feeling akin to genuine love told him that he could not part with +the girl in such fashion as that. He would break his heart were he to +lose his Kate. When he looked at it in that light it seemed to him that +Kate was more to him than all the family of the Scroopes with all their +glory. Dear, sweet, soft, innocent, beautiful Kate! His Kate who, as +he knew well, worshipped the very ground on which he trod! It was not +possible that he should separate himself from Kate O'Hara. + +On his return to Ireland he turned that scheme of his over and over +again in his head. Surely something might be done if the priest would +stand his friend! What if he were to tell the whole truth to the +priest, and ask for such assistance as a priest might give him? But the +one assurance to which he came during his journey was this;--that when +a man goes in for adventures, he requires a good deal of skill and some +courage too to carry him through them. + + + + + +VOLUME II. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +FROM BAD TO WORSE. + + +As he was returning to Ennis Neville was so far removed from immediate +distress as to be able to look forward without fear to his meeting with +the two ladies at Ardkill. He could as yet take his Kate in his arms +without any hard load upon his heart, such as would be there if he knew +that it was incumbent upon him at once to explain his difficulties. His +uncle was still living, but was old and still ill. He would naturally +make the most of the old man's age and infirmities. There was every +reason why they should wait, and no reason why such waiting should bring +reproaches upon his head. On the night of his arrival at his quarters he +despatched a note to his Kate. + + + Dearest love. + + Here I am again in the land of freedom and potatoes. I need not + trouble you with writing about home news, as I shall see you the + day after to-morrow. All to-morrow and Wednesday morning I must + stick close to my guns here. After one on Wednesday I shall be + free. I will drive over to Lahinch, and come round in the boat. + I must come back here the same night, but I suppose it will be + the next morning before I get to bed. I sha'n't mind that if I + get something for my pains. My love to your mother. Your own, + + F. N. + + +In accordance with this plan he did drive over to Lahinch. He might have +saved time by directing that his boat should come across the bay to meet +him at Liscannor, but he felt that he would prefer not to meet Father +Marty at present. It might be that before long he would be driven to +tell the priest a good deal, and to ask for the priest's assistance; but +at present he was not anxious to see Father Marty. Barney Morony was +waiting for him at the stable where he put up his horse, and went down +with him to the beach. The ladies, according to Barney, were quite well +and more winsome than ever. But,--and this information was not given +without much delay and great beating about the bush,--there was a +rumour about Liscannor that Captain O'Hara had "turned up." Fred was +so startled at this that he could not refrain from showing his anxiety +by the questions which he asked. Barney did not seem to think that the +Captain had been at Ardkill or anywhere in the neighbourhood. At any +rate he, Barney, had not seen him. He had just heard the rumour. "Shure, +Captain, I wouldn't be telling yer honour a lie; and they do be saying +that the Captain one time was as fine a man as a woman ever sot eyes +on;--and why not, seeing what kind the young lady is, God bless her!" If +it were true that Kate's father had "turned up," such an advent might +very naturally alter Neville's plans. It would so change the position of +things as to relieve him in some degree from the force of his past +promises. + +Nevertheless when he saw Kate coming along the cliffs to meet him, the +one thing more certain to him than all other things was that he would +never abandon her. She had been watching for him almost from the hour at +which he had said that he would leave Ennis, and, creeping up among the +rocks, had seen his boat as it came round the point from Liscannor. She +had first thought that she would climb down the path to meet him; but +the tide was high and there was now no strip of strand below the cliffs; +and Barney Morony would have been there to see; and she resolved that it +would be nicer to wait for him on the summit. "Oh Fred, you have come +back," she said, throwing herself on his breast. + +"Yes; I am back. Did you think I was going to desert you?" + +"No; no. I knew you would not desert me. Oh, my darling!" + +"Dear Kate;--dearest Kate." + +"You have thought of me sometimes?" + +"I have thought of you always,--every hour." And so he swore to her that +she was as much to him as he could possibly be to her. She hung on his +arm as she went down to the cottage, and believed herself to be the +happiest and most fortunate girl in Ireland. As yet no touch of the +sorrows of love had fallen upon her. + +He could not all at once ask her as to that rumour which Morony had +mentioned to him. But he thought of it as he walked with his arm round +her waist. Some question must be asked, but it might, perhaps, be better +that he should ask it of the mother. Mrs. O'Hara was at the cottage and +seemed almost as glad to see him as Kate had been. "It is very pleasant +to have you back again," she said. "Kate has been counting first the +hours, and then the minutes." + +"And so have you, mother." + +"Of course we want to hear all the news," said Mrs. O'Hara. Then +Neville, with the girl who was to be his wife sitting close beside him +on the sofa,--almost within his embrace,--told them how things were +going at Scroope. His uncle was very weak,--evidently failing; but still +so much better as to justify the heir in coming away. He might perhaps +live for another twelve months, but the doctors thought it hardly +possible that he should last longer than that. Then the nephew went +on to say that his uncle was the best and most generous man in the +world,--and the finest gentleman and the truest Christian. He told also +of the tenants who were not to be harassed, and the servants who were +not to be dismissed, and the horses that were to be allowed to die in +their beds, and the trees that were not to be cut down. + +"I wish I knew him," said Kate. "I wish I could have seen him once." + +"That can never be," said Fred, sadly. + +"No;--of course not." + +Then Mrs. O'Hara asked a question. "Has he ever heard of us?" + +"Yes;--he has heard of you." + +"From you?" + +"No;--not first from me. There are many reasons why I would not have +mentioned your names could I have helped it. He has wished me to marry +another girl,--and especially a Protestant girl. That was impossible." + +"That must be impossible now, Fred," said Kate, looking up into his +face. + +"Quite so, dearest; but why should I have vexed him, seeing that he is +so good to me, and that he must be gone so soon?" + +"Who had told him of us?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"That woman down there at Castle Quin." + +"Lady Mary?" + +"Foul-tongued old maid that she is," exclaimed Fred. "She writes to my +aunt by every post, I believe." + +"What evil can she say of us?" + +"She does say evil. Never mind what. Such a woman always says evil of +those of her sex who are good-looking." + +"There, mother;--that's for you," said Kate, laughing. "I don't care +what she says." + +"If she tells your aunt that we live in a small cottage, without +servants, without society, with just the bare necessaries of life, she +tells the truth of us." + +"That's just what she does say;--and she goes on harping about +religion. Never mind her. You can understand that my uncle should be +old-fashioned. He is very old, and we must wait." + +"Waiting is so weary," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"It is not weary for me at all," said Kate. + +Then he left them, without having said a word about the Captain. He +found the Captain to be a subject very uncomfortable to mention, and +thought as he was sitting there that it might perhaps be better to make +his first enquiries of this priest. No one said a word to him about the +Captain beyond what he had heard from his boatman. For, as it happened, +he did not see the priest till May was nearly past, and during all that +time things were going from bad to worse. As regarded any services which +he rendered to the army at this period of his career, the excuses which +he had made to his uncle were certainly not valid. Some pretence at +positively necessary routine duties it must be supposed that he made; +but he spent more of his time either on the sea, or among the cliffs +with Kate, or on the road going backwards and forwards, than he did at +his quarters. It was known that he was to leave the regiment and become +a great man at home in October, and his brother officers were kind to +him. And it was known also, of course, that there was a young lady down +on the sea coast beyond Ennistimon, and doubtless there were jokes on +the subject. But there was no one with him at Ennis having such weight +of fears or authority as might have served to help to rescue him. During +this time Lady Mary Quin still made her reports, and his aunt's letters +were full of cautions and entreaties. "I am told," said the Countess, in +one of her now detested epistles, "that the young woman has a reprobate +father who has escaped from the galleys. Oh, Fred, do not break our +hearts." He had almost forgotten the Captain when he received this +further rumour which had circulated to him round by Castle Quin and +Scroope Manor. + +It was all going from bad to worse. He was allowed by the mother to be +at the cottage as much as he pleased, and the girl was allowed to wander +with him when she would among the cliffs. It was so, although Father +Marty himself had more than once cautioned Mrs. O'Hara that she was +imprudent. "What can I do?" she said. "Have not you yourself taught me +to believe that he is true?" + +"Just spake a word to Miss Kate herself." + +"What can I say to her now? She regards him as her husband before God." + +"But he is not her husband in any way that would prevent his taking +another wife an' he plases. And, believe me, Misthress O'Hara, them sort +of young men like a girl a dale better when there's a little 'Stand off' +about her." + +"It is too late to bid her to be indifferent to him now, Father Marty." + +"I am not saying that Miss Kate is to lose her lover. I hope I'll have +the binding of 'em together myself, and I'll go bail I'll do it fast +enough. In the meanwhile let her keep herself to herself a little more." + +The advice was very good, but Mrs. O'Hara knew not how to make use of +it. She could tell the young man that she would have his heart's blood +if he deceived them, and she could look at him as though she meant to be +as good as her word. She had courage enough for any great emergency. But +now that the lover had been made free of the cottage she knew not how to +debar him. She could not break her Kate's heart by expressing doubts to +her. And were he to be told to stay away, would he not be lost to them +for ever? Of course he could desert them if he would, and then they must +die. + +It was going from bad to worse certainly; and not the less so because +he was more than ever infatuated about the girl. When he had calculated +whether it might be possible to desert her he had been at Scroope. He +was in County Clare now, and he did not hesitate to tell himself that +it was impossible. Whatever might happen, and to whomever he might be +false,--he would be true to her. He would at any rate be so true to her +that he would not leave her. If he never made her his legal wife, his +wife legal at all points, he would always treat her as wife. When his +uncle the Earl should die, when the time came in which he would be +absolutely free as to his own motions, he would discover the way in +which this might best be done. If it were true that his Kate's father +was a convict escaped from the galleys, that surely would be an +additional reason why she should not be made Countess of Scroope. Even +Mrs. O'Hara herself must understand that. With Kate, with his own Kate, +he thought that there would be no difficulty. + +From bad to worse! Alas, alas; there came a day in which the +pricelessness of the girl he loved sank to nothing, vanished away, and +was as a thing utterly lost, even in his eyes. The poor unfortunate +one,--to whom beauty had been given, and grace, and softness,--and +beyond all these and finer than these, innocence as unsullied as the +whiteness of the plumage on the breast of a dove; but to whom, alas, +had not been given a protector strong enough to protect her softness, +or guardian wise enough to guard her innocence! To her he was godlike, +noble, excellent, all but holy. He was the man whom Fortune, more than +kind, had sent to her to be the joy of her existence, the fountain of +her life, the strong staff for her weakness. Not to believe in him would +be the foulest treason! To lose him would be to die! To deny him would +be to deny her God! She gave him all;--and her pricelessness in his eyes +was gone for ever. + +He was sitting with her one day towards the end of May on the edge of +the cliff, looking down upon the ocean and listening to the waves, when +it occurred to him that he might as well ask her about her father. +It was absurd he thought to stand upon any ceremony with her. He was +very good to her, and intended to be always good to her, but it was +essentially necessary to him to know the truth. He was not aware, +perhaps, that he was becoming rougher with her than had been his wont. +She certainly was not aware of it, though there was a touch of awe +sometimes about her as she answered him. She was aware that she now +shewed to him an absolute obedience in all things which had not been +customary with her; but then it was so sweet to obey him; so happy a +thing to have such a master! If he rebuked her, he did it with his arm +round her waist, so that she could look into his face and smile as she +promised that she would be good and follow his behests in all things. He +had been telling her now of some fault in her dress, and she had been +explaining that such faults would come when money was so scarce. Then he +had offered her gifts. A gift she would of course take. She had already +taken gifts which were the treasures of her heart. But he must not pay +things for her till,--till--. Then she again looked up into his face and +smiled. "You are not angry with me?" she said. + +"Kate,--I want to ask you a particular question." + +"What question?" + +"You must not suppose, let the answer be what it may, that it can make +any difference between you and me." + +"Oh,--I hope not," she replied trembling. + +"It shall make none," he answered with all a master's assurance and +authority. "Therefore you need not be afraid to answer me. Tidings have +reached me on a matter as to which I ought to be informed." + +"What matter? Oh Fred, you do so frighten me. I'll tell you anything I +know." + +"I have been told that--that your father--is alive." He looked down +upon her and could see that her face was red up to her very hair. "Your +mother once told me that she had never been certain of his death." + +"I used to think he was dead." + +"But now you think he is alive?" + +"I think he is;--but I do not know. I never saw my father so as to +remember him; though I do remember that we used to be very unhappy when +we were in Spain." + +"And what have you heard lately? Tell me the truth, you know." + +"Of course I shall tell you the truth, Fred. I think mother got a +letter, but she did not shew it me. She said just a word, but nothing +more. Father Marty will certainly know if she knows." + +"And you know nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"I think I must ask Father Marty." + +"But will it matter to you?" Kate asked. + +"At any rate it shall not matter to you," he said, kissing her. And +then again she was happy; though there had now crept across her heart +the shadow of some sad foreboding, a foretaste of sorrow that was not +altogether bitter as sorrow is, but which taught her to cling closely +to him when he was there and would fill her eyes with tears when she +thought of him in his absence. + +On this day he had not found Mrs. O'Hara at the cottage. She had gone +down to Liscannor, Kate told him. He had sent his boat back to the +strand near that village, round the point and into the bay, as it could +not well lie under the rocks at high tide, and he now asked Kate to +accompany him as he walked down. They would probably meet her mother on +the road. Kate, as she tied on her hat, was only too happy to be his +companion. "I think," he said, "that I shall try and see Father Marty as +I go back. If your mother has really heard anything about your father, +she ought to have told me." + +"Don't be angry with mother, Fred." + +"I won't be angry with you, my darling," said the master with masterful +tenderness. + +Although he had intimated his intention of calling on the priest that +very afternoon, it may be doubted whether he was altogether gratified +when he met the very man with Mrs. O'Hara close to the old burying +ground. "Ah, Mr. Neville," said the priest, "and how's it all wid you +this many a day?" + +"The top of the morning to you thin, Father Marty," said Fred, trying +to assume an Irish brogue. Nothing could be more friendly than the +greeting. The old priest took off his hat to Kate, and made a low bow, +as though he should say,--to the future Countess of Scroope I owe a very +especial respect. Mrs. O'Hara held her future son-in-law's hand for a +moment, as though she might preserve him for her daughter by some show +of affection on her own part. "And now, Misthress O'Hara," said the +priest, "as I've got a companion to go back wid me, I'm thinking I'll +not go up the hill any further." Then they parted, and Kate looked as +though she were being robbed of her due because her lover could not give +her one farewell kiss in the priest's presence. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +IS SHE TO BE YOUR WIFE? + + +"It's quite a sthranger you are, these days," said the priest, as soon +as they had turned their backs upon the ladies. + +"Well; yes. We haven't managed to meet since I came back;--have we?" + +"I've been pretty constant at home, too. But you like them cliffs up +there, better than the village no doubt." + +"Metal more attractive, Father Marty," said Fred laughing;--"not meaning +however any slight upon Liscannor or the Cork whisky." + +"The Cork whisky is always to the fore, Mr. Neville. And how did you +lave matters with your noble uncle?" + +Neville at the present moment was anxious rather to speak of Kate's +ignoble father than of his own noble uncle. He had declared his +intention of making inquiry of Father Marty, and he thought that he +should do so with something of a high hand. He still had that scheme +in his head, and he might perhaps be better prepared to discuss it +with the priest if he could first make this friend of the O'Hara family +understand how much he, Neville, was personally injured by this "turning +up" of a disreputable father. But, should he allow the priest at once to +run away to Scroope and his noble uncle, the result of such conversation +would simply be renewed promises on his part in reference to his future +conduct to Kate O'Hara. + +"Lord Scroope wasn't very well when I left him. By the bye, Father +Marty, I've been particularly anxious to see you." + +"'Deed thin I was aisy found, Mr. Neville." + +"What is this I hear about--Captain O'Hara?" + +"What is it that you have heard, Mr. Neville?" Fred looked into the +priest's face and found that he, at least, did not blush. It may be that +all power of blushing had departed from Father Marty. + +"In the first place I hear that there is such a man." + +"Ony way there was once." + +"You think he's dead then?" + +"I don't say that. It's a matter of,--faith, thin, it's a matter of nigh +twenty years since I saw the Captain. And when I did see him I didn't +like him. I can tell you that, Mr. Neville." + +"I suppose not." + +"That lass up there was not born when I saw him. He was a handsome man +too, and might have been a gentleman av' he would." + +"But he wasn't." + +"It's a hard thing to say what is a gentleman, Mr. Neville. I don't know +a much harder thing. Them folk at Castle Quin, now, wouldn't scruple +to say that I'm no gentleman, just because I'm a Popish priest. I say +that Captain O'Hara was no gentleman because--he ill-treated a woman." +Father Marty as he said this stopped a moment on the road, turning round +and looking Neville full in the face. Fred bore the look fairly well. +Perhaps at the moment he did not understand its application. It may be +that he still had a clear conscience in that matter, and thought that he +was resolved to treat Kate O'Hara after a fashion that would in no way +detract from his own character as a gentleman. "As it was," continued +the priest, "he was a low blag-guard." + +"He hadn't any money, I suppose?" + +"'Deed and I don't think he was iver throubled much in respect of money. +But money doesn't matter, Mr. Neville." + +"Not in the least," said Fred. + +"Thim ladies up there are as poor as Job, but anybody that should say +that they weren't ladies would just be shewing that he didn't know the +difference. The Captain was well born, Mr. Neville, av' that makes ony +odds." + +"Birth does go for something, Father Marty." + +"Thin let the Captain have the advantage. Them O'Haras of Kildare +weren't proud of him I'm thinking, but he was a chip of that block; and +some one belonging to him had seen the errors of the family ways, in +respect of making him a Papist. 'Deed and I must say, Mr. Neville, when +they send us any offsets from a Prothestant family it isn't the best +that they give us." + +"I suppose not, Father Marty." + +"We can make something of a bit of wood that won't take ony shape at +all, at all along wid them. But there wasn't much to boast of along of +the Captain." + +"But is he alive, Father Marty;--or is he dead? I think I've a right to +be told." + +"I am glad to hear you ask it as a right, Mr. Neville. You have a right +if that young lady up there is to be your wife." Fred made no answer +here, though the priest paused for a moment, hoping that he would do +so. But the question could be asked again, and Father Marty went on to +tell all that he knew, and all that he had heard of Captain O'Hara. He +was alive. Mrs. O'Hara had received a letter purporting to be from her +husband, giving an address in London, and asking for money. He, Father +Marty, had seen the letter; and he thought that there might perhaps be a +doubt whether it was written by the man of whom they were speaking. Mrs. +O'Hara had declared that if it were so written the handwriting was much +altered. But then in twelve years the writing of a man who drank hard +will change. It was twelve years since she had last received a letter +from him. + +"And what do you believe?" + +"I think he lives, and that he wrote it, Mr. Neville. I'll tell you +God's truth about it as I believe it, because as I said before, I think +you are entitled to know the truth." + +"And what was done?" + +"I sent off to London,--to a friend I have." + +"And what did your friend say?" + +"He says there is a man calling himself Captain O'Hara." + +"And is that all?" + +"She got a second letter. She got it the very last day you was down +here. Pat Cleary took it up to her when you was out wid Miss Kate." + +"He wants money, I suppose." + +"Just that, Mr. Neville." + +"It makes a difference;--doesn't it?" + +"How does it make a difference?" + +"Well; it does. I wonder you don't see it. You must see it." From that +moment Father Marty said in his heart that Kate O'Hara had lost her +husband. Not that he admitted for a moment that Captain O'Hara's return, +if he had returned, would justify the lover in deserting the girl; but +that he perceived that Neville had already allowed himself to entertain +the plea. The whole affair had in the priest's estimation been full of +peril; but then the prize to be won was very great! From the first he +had liked the young man, and had not doubted,--did not now doubt,--but +that if once married he would do justice to his wife. Even though +Kate should fail and should come out of the contest with a scorched +heart,--and that he had thought more than probable,--still the prize was +very high and the girl he thought was one who could survive such a blow. +Latterly, in that respect he had changed his opinion. Kate had shewn +herself to be capable of so deep a passion that he was now sure that +she would be more than scorched should the fire be one to injure and +not to cherish her. But the man's promises had been so firm, so often +reiterated, were so clearly written, that the priest had almost dared to +hope that the thing was assured. Now, alas, he perceived that the embryo +English lord was already looking for a means of escape, and already +thought that he had found it in this unfortunate return of the father. +The whole extent of the sorrow even the priest did not know. But he was +determined to fight the battle to the very last. The man should make the +girl his wife, or he, Father Marty, parish priest of Liscannor, would +know the reason why. He was a man who was wont to desire to know the +reason why, as to matters which he had taken in hand. But when he heard +the words which Neville spoke and marked the tone in which they were +uttered he felt that the young man was preparing for himself a way of +escape. + +"I don't see that it should make any difference," he said shortly. + +"If the man be disreputable,--" + +"The daughter is not therefore disreputable. Her position is not +changed." + +"I have to think of my friends." + +"You should have thought of that before you declared yourself to her, +Mr. Neville." How true this was now, the young man knew better than +the priest, but that, as yet, was his own secret. "You do not mean to +tell me that because the father is not all that he should be, she is +therefore to be thrown over. That cannot be your idea of honour. Have +you not promised that you would make her your wife?" The priest stopped +for an answer, but the young man made him none. "Of course you have +promised her." + +"I suppose she has told you so." + +"To whom should she tell her story? To whom should she go for advice? +But it was you who told me so, yourself." + +"Never." + +"Did you not swear to me that you would not injure her? And why should +there have been any talk with you and me about her, but that I saw +what was coming? When a young man like you chooses to spend his hours +day after day and week after week with such a one as she is, with a +beautiful young girl, a sweet innocent young lady, so sweet as to make +even an ould priest like me feel that the very atmosphere she breathes +is perfumed and hallowed, must it not mean one of two things;--that he +desires to make her his wife or else,--or else something so vile that +I will not name it in connection with Kate O'Hara? Then as her mother's +friend, and as hers,--as their only friend near them, I spoke out +plainly to you, and you swore to me that you intended no harm to her." + +"I would not harm her for the world." + +"When you said that, you told me as plainly as you could spake that she +should be your wife. With her own mouth she never told me. Her mother +has told me. Daily Mrs. O'Hara has spoken to me of her hopes and fears. +By the Lord above me whom I worship, and by His Son in whom I rest all +my hopes, I would not stand in your shoes if you intend to tell that +woman that after all that has passed you mean to desert her child." + +"Who has talked of deserting?" asked Neville angrily. + +"Say that you will be true to her, that you will make her your wife +before God and man, and I will humbly ask your pardon." + +"All that I say is that this Captain O'Hara's coming is a nuisance." + +"If that be all, there is an end of it. It is a nuisance. Not that I +suppose he ever will come. If he persists she must send him a little +money. There shall be no difficulty about that. She will never ask you +to supply the means of keeping her husband." + +"It isn't the money. I think you hardly understand my position, Father +Marty." It seemed to Neville that if it was ever his intention to open +out his scheme to the priest, now was his time for doing so. They had +come to the cross roads at which one way led down to the village and to +Father Marty's house, and the other to the spot on the beach where the +boat would be waiting. "I can't very well go on to Liscannor," said +Neville. + +"Give me your word before we part that you will keep your promise to +Miss O'Hara," said the priest. + +"If you will step on a few yards with me I will tell you just how I am +situated." Then the priest assented, and they both went on towards the +beach, walking very slowly. "If I alone were concerned, I would give +up everything for Miss O'Hara. I am willing to give up everything as +regards myself. I love her so dearly that she is more to me than all the +honours and wealth that are to come to me when my uncle dies." + +"What is to hinder but that you should have the girl you love and your +uncle's honours and wealth into the bargain?" + +"That is just it." + +"By the life of me I don't see any difficulty. You're your own masther. +The ould Earl can't disinherit you if he would." + +"But I am bound down." + +"How bound? Who can bind you?" + +"I am bound not to make Miss O'Hara Countess of Scroope." + +"What binds you? You are bound by a hundred promises to make her your +wife." + +"I have taken an oath that no Roman Catholic shall become Countess +Scroope as my wife." + +"Then, Mr. Neville, let me tell you that you must break your oath." + +"Would you have me perjure myself?" + +"Faith I would. Perjure yourself one way you certainly must, av' you've +taken such an oath as that, for you've sworn many oaths that you would +make this Catholic lady your wife. Not make a Roman Catholic Countess of +Scroope! It's the impudence of some of you Prothestants that kills me +entirely. As though we couldn't count Countesses against you and beat +you by chalks! I ain't the man to call hard names, Mr. Neville; but if +one of us is upstarts, it's aisy seeing which. Your uncle's an ould man, +and I'm told nigh to his latter end. I'm not saying but what you should +respect even his wakeness. But you'll not look me in the face and tell +me that afther what's come and gone that young lady is to be cast on one +side like a plucked rose, because an ould man has spoken a foolish word, +or because a young man has made a wicked promise." + +They were now standing again, and Fred raised his hat and rubbed his +forehead as he endeavoured to arrange the words in which he could best +propose his scheme to the priest. He had not yet escaped from the idea +that because Father Marty was a Roman Catholic priest, living in a +village in the extreme west of Ireland, listening night and day to the +roll of the Atlantic and drinking whisky punch, therefore he would be +found to be romantic, semi-barbarous, and perhaps more than semi-lawless +in his views of life. Irish priests have been made by chroniclers of +Irish story to do marvellous things; and Fred Neville thought that +this priest, if only the matter could be properly introduced, might +be persuaded to do for him something romantic, something marvellous, +perhaps something almost lawless. In truth it might have been difficult +to find a man more practical or more honest than Mr. Marty. And then +the difficulty of introducing the subject was very great. Neville stood +with his face a little averted, rubbing his forehead as he raised his +sailor's hat. "If you could only read my heart," he said, "you'd know +that I am as true as steel." + +"I'd be lothe to doubt it, Mr. Neville." + +"I'd give up everything to call Kate my own." + +"But you need give up nothing, and yet have her all your own." + +"You say that because you don't completely understand. It may as well be +taken for granted at once that she can never be Countess of Scroope." + +"Taken for granted!" said the old man as the fire flashed out of his +eyes. + +"Just listen to me for one moment. I will marry her to-morrow, or at any +time you may fix, if a marriage can be so arranged that she shall never +be more than Mrs. Neville." + +"And what would you be?" + +"Mr. Neville." + +"And what would her son be?" + +"Oh;--just the same,--when he grew up. Perhaps there wouldn't be a son." + +"God forbid that there should on those terms. You intend that your +children and her children shall be--bastards. That's about it, Mr. +Neville." The romance seemed to vanish when the matter was submitted +to him in this very prosaic manner. "As to what you might choose to +call yourself, that would be nothing to me and not very much I should +say, to her. I believe a man needn't be a lord unless he likes to be a +lord;--and needn't call his wife a countess. But, Mr. Neville, when you +have married Miss O'Hara, and when your uncle shall have died, there can +be no other Countess of Scroope, and her child must be the heir to your +uncle's title." + +"All that I could give her except that, she should have." + +"But she must have that. She must be your wife before God and man, and +her children must be the children of honour and not of disgrace." +Ah,--if the priest had known it all! + +"I would live abroad with her, and her mother should live with us." + +"You mean that you would take Kate O'Hara as your misthress! And you +make this as a proposal to me! Upon my word, Mr. Neville, I don't think +that I quite understand what it is that you're maning to say to me. Is +she to be your wife?" + +"Yes," said Neville, urged by the perturbation of his spirit to give a +stronger assurance than he had intended. + +"Then must her son if she have one be the future Earl of Scroope. He may +be Protesthant,--or what you will?" + +"You don't understand me, Father Marty." + +"Faith, and that's thrue. But we are at the baich, Mr. Neville, and I've +two miles along the coast to Liscannor." + +"Shall I make Barney take you round in the canoe?" + +"I believe I may as well walk it. Good-bye, Mr. Neville. I'm glad at any +rate to hear you say so distinctly that you are resolved at all hazards +to make that dear girl your wife." This he said, almost in a whisper, +standing close to the boat, with his hand on Neville's shoulder. He +paused a moment as though to give special strength to his words, and +Neville did not dare or was not able to protest against the assertion. +Father Marty himself was certainly not romantic in his manner of +managing such an affair as this in which they were now both concerned. + +Neville went back to Ennis much depressed, turning the matter over in +his mind almost hopelessly. This was what had come from his adventures! +No doubt he might marry the girl,--postponing his marriage till after +his uncle's death. For aught he knew as yet that might still be +possible. But were he to do so, he would disgrace his family, and +disgrace himself by breaking the solemn promise he had made. And in such +case he would be encumbered, and possibly be put beyond the pale of that +sort of life which should be his as Earl of Scroope, by having Captain +O'Hara as his father-in-law. He was aware now that he would be held by +all his natural friends to have ruined himself by such a marriage. + +On the other hand he could, no doubt, throw the girl over. They could +not make him marry her though they could probably make him pay very +dearly for not doing so. If he could only harden his heart sufficiently +he could escape in that way. But he was not hard, and he did feel that +so escaping, he would have a load on his breast which would make his +life unendurable. Already he was beginning to hate the coast of Ireland, +and to think that the gloom of Scroope Manor was preferable to it. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +FRED NEVILLE RECEIVES A VISITOR AT ENNIS. + + +For something over three weeks after his walk with the priest Neville +saw neither of the two ladies of Ardkill. Letters were frequent between +the cottage and the barracks at Ennis, but,--so said Fred himself, +military duties detained him with the troop. He explained that he had +been absent a great deal, and that now Captain Johnstone was taking his +share of ease. He was all alone at the barracks, and could not get away. +There was some truth in this, created perhaps by the fact that as he +didn't stir, Johnstone could do so. Johnstone was backwards and forwards, +fishing at Castle Connel, and Neville was very exact in explaining that +for the present he was obliged to give up all the delights of the coast. +But the days were days of trial to him. + +A short history of the life of Captain O'Hara was absolutely sent to +him by the Countess of Scroope. The family lawyer, at the instance of +the Earl,--as she said, though probably her own interference had been +more energetic than that of the Earl,--had caused enquiries to be made. +Captain O'Hara, the husband of the lady who was now living on the coast +of County Clare, and who was undoubtedly the father of the Miss O'Hara +whom Fred knew, had passed at least ten of the latter years of his +life at the galleys in the south of France. He had been engaged in +an extensive swindling transaction at Bordeaux, and had thence been +transferred to Toulon, had there been maintained by France,--and was now +in London. The Countess in sending this interesting story to her nephew +at Ennis, with ample documentary evidence, said that she was sure that +he would not degrade his family utterly by thinking of allying himself +with people who were so thoroughly disreputable; but that, after all +that was passed, his uncle expected from him a renewed assurance on the +matter. He answered this in anger. He did not understand why the history +of Captain O'Hara should have been raked up. Captain O'Hara was nothing +to him. He supposed it had come from Castle Quin, and anything from +Castle Quin he disbelieved. He had given a promise once and he didn't +understand why he should be asked for any further assurance. He +thought it very hard that his life should be made a burden to him by +foul-mouthed rumours from Castle Quin. That was the tenour of his letter +to his aunt; but even that letter sufficed to make it almost certain +that he could never marry the girl. He acknowledged that he had bound +himself not to do so. And then, in spite of all that he said about the +mendacity of Castle Quin, he did believe the little history. And it +was quite out of the question that he should marry the daughter of a +returned galley-slave. He did not think that any jury in England would +hold him to be bound by such a promise. Of course he would do whatever +he could for his dear Kate; but, even after all that had passed, he +could not pollute himself by marriage with the child of so vile a +father. Poor Kate! Her sufferings would have been occasioned not by him, +but by her father. + +In the meantime Kate's letters to him became more and more frequent, +more and more sad,--filled ever with still increasing warmth of +entreaty. At last they came by every post, though he knew how difficult +it must be for her to find daily messengers into Ennistimon. Would he +not come and see her? He must come and see her. She was ill and would +die unless he came to her. He did not always answer these letters, but +he did write to her perhaps twice a week. He would come very soon,--as +soon as Johnstone had come back from his fishing. She was not to fret +herself. Of course he could not always be at Ardkill. He too had things +to trouble him. Then he told her he had received letters from home which +caused him very much trouble; and there was a something of sharpness +in his words, which brought from her a string of lamentations in +which, however, the tears and wailings did not as yet take the form +of reproaches. Then there came a short note from Mrs. O'Hara herself. +"I must beg that you will come to Ardkill at once. It is absolutely +necessary for Kate's safety that you should do so." + +When he received this he thought that he would go on the morrow. When +the morrow came he determined to postpone the journey another day! The +calls of duty are so much less imperious than those of pleasure! On that +further day he still meant to go, as he sat about noon unbraced, only +partly dressed in his room at the barracks. His friend Johnstone was back +in Ennis, and there was also a Cornet with the troop. He had no excuse +whatever on the score of military duty for remaining at home on that +day. But he sat idling his time, thinking of things. All the charm of +the adventure was gone. He was sick of the canoe and of Barney Morony. +He did not care a straw for the seals or wild gulls. The moaning of the +ocean beneath the cliff was no longer pleasurable to him,--and as to the +moaning at their summit, to tell the truth, he was afraid of it. The +long drive thither and back was tedious to him. He thought now more of +the respectability of his family than of the beauty of Kate O'Hara. + +But still he meant to go,--certainly would go on this very day. He had +desired that his gig should be ready, and had sent word to say that he +might start at any moment. But still he sat in his dressing-gown at +noon, unbraced, with a novel in his hand which he could not read, and a +pipe by his side which he could not smoke. Close to him on the table lay +that record of the life of Captain O'Hara, which his aunt had sent him, +every word of which he had now examined for the third or fourth time. Of +course he could not marry the girl. Mrs. O'Hara had deceived him. She +could not but have known that her husband was a convict;--and had kept +the knowledge back from him in order that she might allure him to the +marriage. Anything that money could do, he would do. Or, if they would +consent, he would take the girl away with him to some sunny distant +clime, in which adventures might still be sweet, and would then devote +to her--some portion of his time. He had not yet ruined himself, but +he would indeed ruin himself were he, the heir to the earldom of +Scroope, to marry the daughter of a man who had been at the French +galleys! He had just made up his mind that he would be firm in this +resolution,--when the door opened and Mrs. O'Hara entered his room. +"Mrs. O'Hara." + +She closed the door carefully behind her before she spoke, excluding the +military servant who had wished to bar her entrance. "Yes, sir; as you +would not come to us I have been forced to come to you. I know it all. +When will you make my child your wife?" + +Yes. In the abjectness of her misery the poor girl had told her mother +the story of her disgrace; or, rather, in her weakness had suffered her +secret to fall from her lips. That terrible retribution was to come upon +her which, when sin has been mutual, falls with so crushing a weight +upon her who of the two sinners has ever been by far the less sinful. +She, when she knew her doom, simply found herself bound by still +stronger ties of love to him who had so cruelly injured her. She was his +before; but now she was more than ever his. To have him near her, to +give her orders that she might obey them, was the consolation that she +coveted,--the only consolation that could have availed anything to her. +To lean against him, and to whisper to him, with face averted, with +half-formed syllables, some fervent words that might convey to him a +truth which might be almost a joy to her if he would make it so,--was +the one thing that could restore hope to her bosom. Let him come and be +near to her, so that she might hide her face upon his breast. But he +came not. He did not come, though, as best she knew how, she had thrown +all her heart into her letters. Then her spirit sank within her, and she +sickened, and as her mother knelt over her, she allowed her secret to +fall from her. + +Fred Neville's sitting-room at Ennis was not a chamber prepared for the +reception of ladies. It was very rough, as are usually barrack rooms in +outlying quarters in small towns in the west of Ireland,--and it was +also very untidy. The more prudent and orderly of mankind might hardly +have understood why a young man, with prospects and present wealth such +as belonged to Neville, should choose to spend a twelvemonth in such a +room, contrary to the wishes of all his friends, when London was open +to him, and the continent, and scores of the best appointed houses in +England, and all the glories of ownership at Scroope. There were guns +about, and whips, hardly half a dozen books, and a few papers. There +were a couple of swords lying on a table that looked like a dresser. The +room was not above half covered with its carpet, and though there were +three large easy chairs, even they were torn and soiled. But all this +had been compatible with adventures,--and while the adventures were +simply romantic and not a bit troublesome, the barracks at Ennis had +been to him by far preferable to the gloomy grandeur of Scroope. + +And now Mrs. O'Hara was there, telling him that she knew of all! Not for +a moment did he remain ignorant of the meaning of her communication. And +now the arguments to be used against him in reference to the marriage +would be stronger than ever. A silly, painful smile came across his +handsome face as he attempted to welcome her, and moved a chair for her +accommodation. "I am so sorry that you have had the trouble of coming +over," he said. + +"That is nothing. When will you make my child your wife?" How was he to +answer this? In the midst of his difficulties he had brought himself to +one determination. He had resolved that under no pressure would he marry +the daughter of O'Hara, the galley-slave. As far as that, he had seen +his way. Should he now at once speak of the galley-slave, and, with +expressions of regret, decline the alliance on that reason? Having +dishonoured this woman's daughter should he shelter himself behind the +dishonour of her husband? That he meant to do so ultimately is true; +but at the present moment such a task would have required a harder +heart than his. She rose from her chair and stood close over him as she +repeated her demand, "When will you make my child your wife?" + +"You do not want me to answer you at this moment?" + +"Yes;--at this moment. Why not answer me at once? She has told me all. +Mr. Neville, you must think not only of her, but of your child also." + +"I hope not that," he said. + +"I tell you that it is so. Now answer me. When shall my Kate become your +wife?" + +He still knew that any such consummation as that was quite out of the +question. The mother herself as she was now present to him, seemed to +be a woman very different from the quiet, handsome, high-spirited, but +low-voiced widow whom he had known, or thought that he had known, at +Ardkill. Of her as she had there appeared to him he had not been ashamed +to think as one who might at some future time be personally related to +himself. He had recognized her as a lady whose outward trappings, poor +though they might be, were suited to the seclusion in which she lived. +But now, although it was only to Ennis that she had come from her nest +among the rocks, she seemed to be unfitted for even so much intercourse +with the world as that. And in the demand which she reiterated over him +she hardly spoke as a lady would speak. Would not all they who were +connected with him at home have a right to complain if he were to bring +such a woman with him to England as the mother of his wife. "I can't +answer such a question as that on the spur of the moment," he said. + +"You will not dare to tell me that you mean to desert her?" + +"Certainly not. I was coming over to Ardkill this very day. The trap is +ordered. I hope Kate is well?" + +"She is not well. How should she be well?" + +"Why not? I didn't know. If there is anything that she wants that I can +get for her, you have only to speak." + +In the utter contempt which Mrs. O'Hara now felt for the man she +probably forgot that his immediate situation was one in which it was +nearly impossible that any man should conduct himself with dignity. +Having brought himself to his present pass by misconduct, he could +discover no line of good conduct now open to him. Moralists might tell +him that let the girl's parentage be what it might, he ought to marry +her; but he was stopped from that, not only by his oath, but by a +conviction that his highest duty required him to preserve his family +from degradation. And yet to a mother, with such a demand on her lips +as that now made by Mrs. O'Hara,--whose demand was backed by such +circumstances,--how was it possible that he should tell the truth and +plead the honour of his family? His condition was so cruel that it was +no longer possible to him to be dignified or even true. The mother again +made her demand. "There is one thing that you must do for her before +other things can be thought of. When shall she become your wife?" + +It was for a moment on his tongue to tell her that it could not be so +while his uncle lived;--but to this he at once felt that there were two +objections, directly opposed to each other, but each so strong as to +make any such reply very dangerous. It would imply a promise, which he +certainly did not intend to keep, of marrying the girl when his uncle +should be dead; and, although promising so much more than he intended +to perform, would raise the ungovernable wrath of the woman before him. +That he should now hesitate,--now, in her Kate's present condition,--as +to redeeming those vows of marriage which he had made to her in her +innocence, would raise a fury in the mother's bosom which he feared to +encounter. He got up and walked about the room, while she stood with her +eyes fixed upon him, ever and anon reiterating her demand. "No day must +now be lost. When will you make my child your wife?" + +At last he made a proposition to which she assented. The tidings +which she had brought him had come upon him very suddenly. He was +inexpressibly pained. Of course Kate, his dearest Kate, was everything +to him. Let him have that afternoon to think about it. On the morrow he +would assuredly visit Ardkill. The mother, full of fears, resolving that +should he attempt to play her girl false and escape from her she would +follow him to the end of the world, but feeling that at the present +moment she could not constrain him, accepted his repeated promise as to +the following day; and at last left him to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +NEVILLE'S SUCCESS. + + +Neville sat in his room alone, without moving, for a couple of hours +after Mrs. O'Hara had left him. In what way should he escape from the +misery and ruin which seemed to surround him? An idea did cross his +mind that it would be better for him to fly and write the truth from +the comparatively safe distance of his London club. But there would +be a meanness in such conduct which would make it impossible that he +should ever again hold up his head. The girl had trusted to him, and by +trusting to him had brought herself to this miserable pass. He could +not desert her. It would be better that he should go and endure all +the vials of their wrath than that. To her he would still be tenderly +loving, if she would accept his love without the name which he could not +give her. His whole life he would sacrifice to her. Every luxury which +money could purchase he would lavish on her. He must go and make his +offer. The vials of wrath which would doubtless be poured out upon his +head would not come from her. In his heart of hearts he feared both +the priest and the mother. But there are moments in which a man feels +himself obliged to encounter all that he most fears;--and the man who +does not do so in such moments is a coward. + +He quite made up his mind to start early on the following morning; but +the intermediate hours were very sad and heavy, and his whole outlook +into life was troublesome to him. How infinitely better would it have +been for him had he allowed himself to be taught a twelvemonth since +that his duty required him to give up the army at once! But he had made +his bed, and now he must lie upon it. There was no escape from this +journey to Ardkill. Even though he should be stunned by their wrath he +must endure it. + +He breakfasted early the next day, and got into his gig before nine. +He must face the enemy, and the earlier that he did it the better. His +difficulty now lay in arranging the proposition that he would make and +the words that he should speak. Every difficulty would be smoothed and +every danger dispelled if he would only say that he would marry the girl +as quickly as the legal forms would allow. Father Marty, he knew, would +see to all that, and the marriage might be done effectually. He had +quite come to understand that Father Marty was practical rather than +romantic. But there would be cowardice in this as mean as that other +cowardice. He believed himself to be bound by his duty to his family. +Were he now to renew his promise of marriage, such renewal would be +caused by fear and not by duty, and would be mean. They should tear him +piecemeal rather than get from him such a promise. Then he thought of +the Captain, and perceived that he must make all possible use of the +Captain's character. Would anybody conceive that he, the heir of the +Scroope family, was bound to marry the daughter of a convict returned +from the galleys? And was it not true that such promise as he had made +had been obtained under false pretences? Why had he not been told of the +Captain's position when he first made himself intimate with the mother +and daughter? + +Instead of going as was his custom to Lahinch, and then rowing across +the bay and round the point, he drove his gig to the village of +Liscannor. He was sick of Barney Morony and the canoe, and never desired +to see either of them again. He was sick indeed, of everything Irish, +and thought that the whole island was a mistake. He drove however boldly +through Liscannor and up to Father Marty's yard, and, not finding the +priest at home, there left his horse and gig. He had determined that +he would first go to the priest and boldly declare that nothing should +induce him to marry the daughter of a convict. But Father Marty was not +at home. The old woman who kept his house believed that he had gone into +Ennistown. He was away with his horse, and would not be back till dinner +time. Then Neville, having seen his own nag taken from the gig, started +on his walk up to Ardkill. + +How ugly the country was to his eyes as he now saw it. Here and there +stood a mud cabin, and the small, half-cultivated fields, or rather +patches of land, in which the thin oat crops were beginning to be +green, were surrounded by low loose ramshackle walls, which were little +more than heaps of stone, so carelessly had they been built and so +negligently preserved. A few cocks and hens with here and there a +miserable, starved pig seemed to be the stock of the country. Not a +tree, not a shrub, not a flower was there to be seen. The road was +narrow, rough, and unused. The burial ground which he passed was the +liveliest sign of humanity about the place. Then the country became +still wilder, and there was no road. The oats also ceased, and the +walls. But he could hear the melancholy moan of the waves, which he had +once thought to be musical and had often sworn that he loved. Now the +place with all its attributes was hideous to him, distasteful, and +abominable. At last the cottage was in view, and his heart sank very +low. Poor Kate! He loved her dearly through it all. He endeavoured to +take comfort by assuring himself that his heart was true to her. Not for +worlds would he injure her;--that is, not for worlds, had any worlds +been exclusively his own. On account of the Scroope world,--which was a +world general rather than particular,--no doubt he must injure her most +horribly. But still she was his dear Kate, his own Kate, his Kate whom +he would never desert. + +When he came up to the cottage the little gate was open, and he knew +that somebody was there besides the usual inmates. His heart at once +told him that it was the priest. His fate had brought him face to face +with his two enemies at once! His breath almost left him, but he knew +that he could not run away. However bitter might be the vials of wrath +he must encounter them. So he knocked at the outer door and, after his +custom, walked into the passage. Then he knocked again at the door of +the one sitting-room,--the door which hitherto he had always passed with +the conviction that he should bring delight,--and for a moment there was +no answer. He heard no voice and he knocked again. The door was opened +for him, and as he entered he met Father Marty. But he at once saw that +there was another man in the room, seated in an arm chair near the +window. Kate, his Kate, was not there, but Mrs. O'Hara was standing at +the head of the sofa, far away from the window and close to the door. +"It is Mr. Neville," said the priest. "It is as well that he should come +in." + +"Mr. Neville," said the man rising from his chair, "I am informed that +you are a suitor for the hand of my daughter. Your prospects in life are +sufficient, sir, and I give my consent." + +The man was a thing horrible to look at, tall, thin, cadaverous, +ill-clothed, with his wretched and all but ragged overcoat buttoned +close up to his chin, with long straggling thin grizzled hair, +red-nosed, with a drunkard's eyes, and thin lips drawn down at the +corners of the mouth. This was Captain O'Hara; and if any man ever +looked like a convict returned from work in chains, such was the +appearance of this man. This was the father of Fred's Kate;--the man +whom it was expected that he, Frederic Neville, the future Earl of +Scroope, should take as his father-in-law! "This is Captain O'Hara," +said the priest. But even Father Marty, bold as he was, could not assume +the voice with which he had rebuked Neville as he walked with him, now +nearly a month ago, down to the beach. + +Neville did feel that the abomination of the man's appearance +strengthened his position. He stood looking from one to another, while +Mrs. O'Hara remained silent in the corner. "Perhaps," said he, "I had +better not be here. I am intruding." + +"It is right that you should know it all," said the priest. "As regards +the young lady it cannot now alter your position. This gentleman must +be--arranged for." + +"Oh, certainly," said the Captain. "I must be--arranged for, and that so +soon as possible." The man spoke with a slightly foreign accent and in +a tone, as Fred thought, which savoured altogether of the galleys. "You +have done me the honour, I am informed, to make my daughter all your +own. These estimable people assure me that you hasten to make her your +wife on the instant. I consent. The O'Haras, who are of the very oldest +blood in Europe, have always connected themselves highly. Your uncle +is a most excellent nobleman whose hand I shall be proud to grasp." As +he thus spoke he stalked across the room to Fred, intending at once to +commence the work of grasping the Neville family. + +"Get back," said Fred, retreating to the door. + +"Is it that you fail to believe that I am your bride's father?" + +"I know not whose father you may be. Get back." + +"He is what he says he is," said the priest. "You should bear with him +for a while." + +"Where is Kate?" demanded Fred. It seemed as though, for the moment, +he were full of courage. He looked round at Mrs. O'Hara, but nobody +answered him. She was still standing with her eyes fixed upon the +man, almost as though she thought that she could dart out upon him and +destroy him. "Where is Kate?" he asked again. "Is she well?" + +"Well enough to hide herself from her old father," said the Captain, +brushing a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. + +"You shall see her presently, Mr. Neville," said the priest. + +Then Neville whispered a word into the priest's ear. "What is it that +the man wants?" + +"You need not regard that," said Father Marty. + +"Mr. Marty," said the Captain, "you concern yourself too closely in my +affairs. I prefer to open my thoughts and desires to my son-in-law. He +has taken measures which give him a right to interfere in the family. +Ha, ha, ha." + +"If you talk like that I'll stab you to the heart," said Mrs. O'Hara, +jumping forward. Then Fred Neville perceived that the woman had a dagger +in her hand which she had hitherto concealed from him as she stood up +against the wall behind the head of the sofa. He learnt afterwards that +the priest, having heard in Liscannor of the man's arrival, had hurried +up to the cottage, reaching it almost at the same moment with the +Captain. Kate had luckily at the moment been in her room and had not +seen her father. She was still in her bed and was ill;--but during the +scene that occurred afterwards she roused herself. But Mrs. O'Hara, +even in the priest's presence, had at once seized the weapon from the +drawer,--showing that she was prepared even for murder, had murder been +found necessary by her for her relief. The man had immediately asked as +to the condition of his daughter, and the mother had learned that her +child's secret was known to all Liscannor. The priest now laid his hand +upon her and stopped her, but he did it in all gentleness. "You'll have +a fierce pig of a mother-in-law, Mr. Neville," said the Captain, "but +your wife's father,--you'll find him always gentle and open to reason. +You were asking what I wanted." + +"Had I not better give him money?" suggested Neville. + +"No," said the priest shaking his head. + +"Certainly," said Captain O'Hara. + +"If you will leave this place at once," said Neville, "and come to me +to-morrow morning at the Ennis barracks, I will give you money." + +"Give him none," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"My beloved is unreasonable. You would not be rid of me even were he to +be so hard. I should not die. Have I not proved to you that I am one +whom it is hard to destroy by privation. The family has been under a +cloud. A day of sunshine has come with this gallant young nobleman. Let +me partake the warmth. I will visit you, Mr. Neville, certainly;--but +what shall be the figure?" + +"That will be as I shall find you then." + +"I will trust you. I will come. The journey hence to Ennis is long for +one old as I am, and would be lightened by so small a trifle as--shall +I say a bank note of the meanest value." Upon this Neville handed him +two bank notes for £1 each, and Captain O'Hara walked forth out of his +wife's house. + +"He will never leave you now," said the priest. + +"He cannot hurt me. I will arrange with some man of business to pay him +a stipend as long as he never troubles our friend here. Though all the +world should know it, will it not be better so?" + +Great and terrible is the power of money. When this easy way out of +their immediate difficulties had been made by the rich man, even +Mrs. O'Hara with all her spirit was subdued for the moment, and the +reproaches of the priest were silenced for that hour. The young man +had seemed to behave well, had stood up as the friend of the suffering +women, and had been at any rate ready with his money. "And now," he +said, "where is Kate?" Then Mrs. O'Hara took him by the hand and led +him into the bedroom in which the poor girl had buried herself from her +father's embrace. "Is he gone?" she asked before even she would throw +herself into her lover's arms. + +"Neville has paid him money," said the mother. + +"Yes, he has gone," said Fred; "and I think,--I think that he will +trouble you no more." + +"Oh, Fred, oh, my darling, oh, my own one. At last, at last you have +come to me. Why have you stayed away? You will not stay away again? Oh, +Fred, you do love me? Say that you love me." + +"Better than all the world," he said pressing her to his bosom. + +He remained with her for a couple of hours, during which hardly a word +was said to him about his marriage. So great had been the effect upon +them all of the sudden presence of the Captain, and so excellent had +been the service rendered them by the trust which the Captain had placed +in the young man's wealth, that for this day both priest and mother were +incapacitated from making their claim with the vigour and intensity of +purpose which they would have shewn had Captain O'Hara not presented +himself at the cottage. The priest left them soon,--but not till it had +been arranged that Neville should go back to Ennis to prepare for his +reception of the Captain, and return to the cottage on the day after +that interview was over. He assumed on a sudden the practical views of +a man of business. He would take care to have an Ennis attorney with +him when speaking to the Captain, and would be quite prepared to go to +the extent of two hundred a year for the Captain's life, if the Captain +could be safely purchased for that money. "A quarter of it would do," +said Mrs. O'Hara. The priest thought £2 a week would be ample. "I'll be +as good as my word," said Fred. Kate sat looking into his face thinking +that he was still a god. + +"And you will certainly be here by noon on Sunday?" said Kate, clinging +to him when he rose to go. + +"Most certainly." + +"Dear, dear Fred." And so he walked down the hill to the priest's house +almost triumphantly. He thought himself fortunate in not finding the +priest who had ridden off from Ardkill to some distant part of the +parish;--and then drove himself back to Ennis. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +FRED NEVILLE IS AGAIN CALLED HOME TO SCROOPE. + + +Neville was intent upon business, and had not been back in Ennis from +the cottage half an hour before he obtained an introduction to an +attorney. He procured it through the sergeant-major of the troop. The +sergeant-major was intimate with the innkeeper, and the innkeeper was +able to say that Mr. Thaddeus Crowe was an honest, intelligent, and +peculiarly successful lawyer. Before he sat down to dinner Fred Neville +was closeted at the barracks with Mr. Crowe. + +He began by explaining to Mr. Crowe who he was. This he did in order +that the attorney might know that he had the means of carrying out his +purpose. Mr. Crowe bowed, and assured his client that on that score he +had no doubts whatever. Nevertheless Mr. Crowe's first resolve, when he +heard of the earldom and of the golden prospects, was to be very careful +not to pay any money out of his own pocket on behalf of the young +officer, till he made himself quite sure that it would be returned to +him with interest. As the interview progressed, however, Mr. Crowe began +to see his way, and to understand that the golden prospects were not +pleaded because the owner of them was himself short of cash. Mr. Crowe +soon understood the whole story. He had heard of Captain O'Hara, and +believed the man to be as thorough a blackguard as ever lived. When +Neville told the attorney of the two ladies, and of the anxiety which he +felt to screen them from the terrible annoyance of the Captain's visits, +Mr. Crowe smiled, but made no remark. "It will be enough for you to know +that I am in earnest about it," said the future Earl, resenting even the +smile. Mr. Crowe bowed, and asked his client to finish the story. "The +man is to be with me to-morrow, here, at twelve, and I wish you to be +present. Mr. Crowe, my intention is to give him two hundred pounds a +year as long as he lives." + +"Two hundred a year!" said the Ennis attorney, to whom such an annuity +seemed to be exorbitant as the purchase-money for a returned convict. + +"Yes;--I have already mentioned that sum to his wife, though not to +him." + +"I should reconsider it, Mr. Neville." + +"Thank you;--but I have made up my mind. The payments will be made of +course only on condition that he troubles neither of the ladies either +personally or by letter. It might be provided that it shall be paid to +him weekly in France, but will not be paid should he leave that country. +You will think of all this, and will make suggestions to-morrow. I shall +be glad to have the whole thing left in your hands, so that I need +simply remit the cheques to you. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of +seeing you to-morrow at twelve." Mr. Crowe promised to turn the matter +over in his mind and to be present at the hour named. Neville carried +himself very well through the interview, assuming with perfect ease the +manners of the great and rich man who had only to give his orders with a +certainty that they would be obeyed. Mr. Crowe, when he went out from +the young man's presence, had no longer any doubt on his mind as to his +client's pecuniary capability. + +On the following day at twelve o'clock, Captain O'Hara, punctual to the +minute, was at the barracks; and there also sitting in Neville's room, +was the attorney. But Neville himself was not there, and the Captain +immediately felt that he had been grossly imposed upon and swindled. +"And who may I have the honour of addressing, when I speak to you, sir?" +demanded the Captain. + +"I am a lawyer." + +"And Mr. Neville,--my own son-in-law,--has played me that trick!" + +Mr. Crowe explained that no trick had been played, but did so in +language which was no doubt less courteous than would have been used had +Mr. Neville been present. As, however, the cause of our hero's absence +is more important to us than the Captain's prospects that must be first +explained. + +As soon as the attorney left him Neville had sat down to dinner with his +two brother officers, but was not by any means an agreeable companion. +When they attempted to joke with him as to the young lady on the +cliffs, he showed very plainly that he did not like it; and when Cornet +Simpkinson after dinner raised his glass to drink a health to Miss +O'Hara, Mr. Neville told him that he was an impertinent ass. It was then +somewhat past nine, and it did not seem probable that the evening would +go off pleasantly. Cornet Simpkinson lit his cigar, and tried to wink +at the Captain. Neville stretched out his legs and pretended to go to +sleep. At this moment it was a matter of intense regret to him that he +had ever seen the West of Ireland. + +At a little before ten Captain Johnstone retired, and the Cornet attempted +an apology. He had not meant to say anything that Neville would not +like. "It doesn't signify, my dear boy; only as a rule, never mention +women's names," said Neville, speaking as though he were fully fitted by +his experience to lay down the law on a matter so delicate. "Perhaps one +hadn't better," said the Cornet,--and then that little difficulty was +over. Cornet Simpkinson however thought of it all afterwards, and felt +that that evening and that hour had been more important than any other +evening or any other hour in his life. + +At half-past ten, when Neville was beginning to think that he would take +himself to bed, and was still cursing the evil star which had brought +him to County Clare, there arose a clatter at the outside gate of the +small barrack-yard. A man had posted all the way down from Limerick and +desired to see Mr. Neville at once. The man had indeed come direct from +Scroope,--by rail from Dublin to Limerick, and thence without delay on +to Ennis. The Earl of Scroope was dead, and Frederic Neville was Earl of +Scroope. The man brought a letter from Miss Mellerby, telling him the +sad news and conjuring him in his aunt's name to come at once to the +Manor. Of course he must start at once for the Manor. Of course he must +attend as first mourner at his uncle's grave before he could assume his +uncle's name and fortune. + +In that first hour of his greatness the shock to him was not so great +but that he at once thought of the O'Haras. He would leave Ennis the +following morning at six, so as to catch the day mail train out of +Limerick for Dublin. That was a necessity; but though so very short a +span of time was left to him, he must still make arrangements about the +O'Haras. He had hardly heard the news half an hour before he himself +was knocking at the door of Mr. Crowe the attorney. He was admitted, +and Mr. Crowe descended to him in a pair of slippers and a very +old dressing-gown. Mr. Crowe, as he held his tallow candle up to +his client's face, looked as if he didn't like it. "I know I must +apologize," said Neville, "but I have this moment received news of my +uncle's death." + +"The Earl?" + +"Yes." + +"And I have now the honour of--speaking to the Earl of Scroope." + +"Never mind that. I must start for England almost immediately. I haven't +above an hour or two. You must see that man, O'Hara, without me." + +"Certainly, my lord." + +"You shouldn't speak to me in that way yet," said Neville angrily. "You +will be good enough to understand that the terms are fixed;--two hundred +a year as long, as he remains in France and never molests anyone either +by his presence or by letter. Thank you. I shall be so much obliged +to you! I shall be back here after the funeral, and will arrange about +payments. Good-night." + +So it happened that Captain O'Hara had no opportunity on that occasion +of seeing his proposed son-in-law. Mr. Crowe, fully crediting the power +confided to him, did as he was bidden. He was very harsh to the poor +Captain; but in such a condition a man can hardly expect that people +should not be harsh to him. The Captain endeavoured to hold up his head, +and to swagger, and to assume an air of pinchbeck respectability. But +the attorney would not permit it. He required that the man should own +himself to be penniless, a scoundrel, only anxious to be bought; and +the Captain at last admitted the facts. The figure was the one thing +important to him,--the figure and the nature of the assurance. Mr. Crowe +had made his calculations, and put the matter very plainly. A certain +number of francs,--a hundred francs,--would be paid to him weekly at any +town in France he might select,--which however would be forfeited by any +letter written either to Mrs. O'Hara, to Miss O'Hara, or to the Earl. + +"The Earl!" ejaculated the Captain. + +Mr. Crowe had been unable to refrain his tongue from the delicious +title, but now corrected himself. "Nor Mr. Neville, I mean. No one will +be bound to give you a farthing, and any letter asking for anything more +will forfeit the allowance altogether." The Captain vainly endeavoured +to make better terms, and of course accepted those proposed to him. He +would live in Paris,--dear Paris. He took five pounds for his journey, +and named an agent for the transmission of his money. + +And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. He had still one other task +to perform before he could make his journey home. He had to send tidings +in some shape to Ardkill of what had happened. As he returned to the +barracks from Mr. Crowe's residence he thought wholly of this. That +other matter was now arranged. As one item of the cost of his adventure +in County Clare he must pay two hundred a year to that reprobate, the +Captain, as long as the reprobate chose to live,--and must also pay Mr. +Crowe's bill for his assistance. This was a small matter to him as his +wealth was now great, and he was not a man by nature much prone to think +of money. Nevertheless it was a bad beginning of his life. Though he had +declared himself to be quite indifferent on that head, he did feel that +the arrangement was not altogether reputable,--that it was one which +he could not explain to his own man of business without annoyance, and +which might perhaps give him future trouble. Now he must prepare his +message for the ladies at Ardkill,--especially to the lady whom on his +last visit to the cottage he had found armed with a dagger for the +reception of her husband. And as he returned back to the barracks +it occurred to him that a messenger might be better than a letter. +"Simpkinson," he said, going at once into the young man's bed-room, +"have you heard what has happened to me?" Simpkinson had heard all about +it, and expressed himself as "deucedly sorry" for the old man's death, +but seemed to think that there might be consolation for that sorrow. "I +must go to Scroope immediately," said Neville. "I have explained it all +to Johnstone, and shall start almost at once. I shall first lie down and +get an hour's sleep. I want you to do something for me." Simpkinson was +devoted. Simpkinson would do anything. "I cut up a little rough just now +when you mentioned Miss O'Hara's name." Simpkinson declared that he did +not mind it in the least, and would never pronounce the name again as +long as he lived. "But I want you to go and see her to-morrow," said +Neville. Then Simpkinson sat bolt upright in bed. + +Of course the youthful warrior undertook the commission. What youthful +warrior would not go any distance to see a beautiful young lady on a +cliff, and what youthful warrior would not undertake any journey to +oblige a brother officer who was an Earl? Full instructions were at once +given to him. He had better ask to see Mrs. O'Hara,--in describing whom +Neville made no allusion to the dagger. He was told how to knock at +the door, and send in word by the servant to say that he had called on +behalf of Mr. Neville. He was to drive as far as Liscannor, and then get +some boy to accompany him on foot as a guide. He would not perhaps mind +walking two or three miles. Simpkinson declared that were it ten he +would not mind it. He was then to tell Mrs. O'Hara--just the truth. He +was to say that a messenger had come from Scroope announcing the death +of the Earl, and that Neville had been obliged to start at once for +England. + +"But you will be back?" said Simpkinson. + +Neville paused a moment. "Yes, I shall be back, but don't say anything +of that to either of the ladies." + +"Must I say I don't know? They'll be sure to ask, I should say." + +"Of course they'll ask. Just tell them that the whole thing has been +arranged so quickly that nothing has been settled, but that they shall +hear from me at once. You can say that you suppose I shall be back, but +that I promised that I would write. Indeed that will be the exact truth, +as I don't at all know what I may do. Be as civil to them as possible." + +"That's of course." + +"They are ladies, you know." + +"I supposed that." + +"And I am most desirous to do all in my power to oblige them. You can +say that I have arranged that other matter satisfactorily." + +"That other matter?" + +"They'll understand. The mother will at least, and you'd better say that +to her. You'll go early." + +"I'll start at seven if you like." + +"Eight or nine will do. Thank you, Simpkinson. I'm so much obliged to +you. I hope I shall see you over in England some day when things are a +little settled." With this Simpkinson was delighted,--as he was also +with the commission entrusted to him. + +And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. Not that he owned even to +himself that the title and all belonging to it were as yet in his own +possession. Till the body of the old man should be placed in the family +vault he would still be simply Fred Neville, a lieutenant in Her +Majesty's 20th Hussars. As he travelled home to Scroope, to the old +gloomy mansion which was now in truth not only his home, but his own +house, to do just as he pleased with it, he had much to fill his mind. +He was himself astonished to find with how great a weight his new +dignities sat upon his shoulders, now that they were his own. But a +few months since he had thought and even spoken of shifting them from +himself to another, so that he might lightly enjoy a portion of the +wealth which would belong to him without burdening himself with the +duties of his position. He would take his yacht, and the girl he loved, +and live abroad, with no present record of the coronet which would have +descended to him, and with no assumption of the title. But already that +feeling had died away within him. A few words spoken to him by the +priest and a few serious thoughts within his own bosom had sufficed to +explain to him that he must be the Earl of Scroope. The family honours +had come to him, and he must support them,--either well or ill as his +strength and principles might govern him. And he did understand that it +was much to be a peer, an hereditary legislator, one who by the chance +of his birth had a right to look for deferential respect even from his +elders. It was much to be the lord of wide acres, the ruler of a large +domain, the landlord of many tenants who would at any rate regard +themselves as dependent on his goodness. It was much to be so placed +that no consideration of money need be a bar to any wish,--that the +considerations which should bar his pleasures need be only those of +dignity, character, and propriety. His uncle had told him more than once +how much a peer of England owed to his country and to his order;--how +such a one is bound by no ordinary bonds to a life of high resolves, and +good endeavours. "Sans reproche" was the motto of his house, and was +emblazoned on the wall of the hall that was now his own. If it might be +possible to him he would live up to it and neither degrade his order nor +betray his country. + +But as he thought of all this, he thought also of Kate O'Hara. With what +difficulties had he surrounded the commencement of this life which he +purposed to lead! How was he to escape from the mess of trouble which he +had prepared for himself by his adventures in Ireland. An idea floated +across his mind that very many men who stand in their natural manhood +high in the world's esteem, have in their early youth formed ties such +as that which now bound him to Kate O'Hara,--that they have been silly +as he had been, and had then escaped from the effects of their folly +without grievous damage. But yet he did not see his mode of escape. If +money could do it for him he would make almost any sacrifice. If wealth +and luxury could make his Kate happy, she should be happy as a Princess. +But he did not believe either of her or of her mother that any money +would be accepted as a sufficient atonement. And he hated himself for +suggesting to himself that it might be possible. The girl was good, and +had trusted him altogether. The mother was self-denying, devoted, and +high-spirited. He knew that money would not suffice. + +He need not return to Ireland unless he pleased. He could send over some +agent to arrange his affairs, and allow the two women to break their +hearts in their solitude upon the cliffs. Were he to do so he did not +believe that they would follow him. They would write doubtless, but +personally he might, probably, be quit of them in this fashion. But +in this there would be a cowardice and a meanness which would make it +impossible that he should ever again respect himself. + +And thus he again entered Scroope, the lord and owner of all that he saw +around him,--with by no means a happy heart or a light bosom. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE EARL OF SCROOPE IS IN TROUBLE. + + +Not a word was said to the young lord on his return home respecting the +O'Haras till he himself had broached the subject. He found his brother +Jack Neville at Scroope on his arrival, and Sophie Mellerby was still +staying with his aunt. A day had been fixed for the funeral, but no one +had ventured to make any other arrangement till the heir and owner +should be there. He was received with solemn respect by the old servants +who, as he observed, abstained from calling him by any name. They knew +that it did not become them to transfer the former lord's title to the +heir till all that remained of the former lord should be hidden from the +world in the family vault; but they could not bring themselves to +address a real Earl as Mr. Neville. His aunt was broken down by sorrow, +but nevertheless, she treated him with a courtly deference. To her he +was now the reigning sovereign among the Nevilles, and all Scroope and +everything there was at his disposal. When he held her by the hand and +spoke of her future life she only shook her head. "I am an old woman, +though not in years old as was my lord. But my life is done, and it +matters not where I go." + +"Dear aunt, do not speak of going. Where can you be so well as here?" +But she only shook her head again and wept afresh. Of course it would +not be fitting that she should remain in the house of the young Earl who +was only her nephew by marriage. Scroope Manor would now become a house +of joy, would be filled with the young and light of heart; there would +be feasting there and dancing; horses neighing before the doors, throngs +of carriages, new furniture, bright draperies, and perhaps, alas, loud +revellings. It would not be fit that such a one as she should be at +Scroope now that her lord had left her. + +The funeral was an affair not of pomp but of great moment in those +parts. Two or three Nevilles from other counties came to the house, as +did also sundry relatives bearing other names. Mr. Mellerby was there, +and one or two of the late Earl's oldest friends; but the great +gathering was made up of the Scroope tenants, not one of whom failed to +see his late landlord laid in his grave. "My Lord," said an old man to +Fred, one who was himself a peer and was the young lord's cousin though +they two had never met before, "My Lord," said the old man, as soon as +they had returned from the grave, "you are called upon to succeed as +good a man as ever it has been my lot to know. I loved him as a brother. +I hope you will not lightly turn away from his example." Fred made some +promise which at the moment he certainly intended to perform. + +On the next morning the will was read. There was nothing in it, nor +could there have been anything in it, which might materially affect the +interests of the heir. The late lord's widow was empowered to take away +from Scroope anything that she desired. In regard to money she was +provided for so amply that money did not matter to her. A whole year's +income from the estates was left to the heir in advance, so that he +might not be driven to any momentary difficulty in assuming the +responsibilities of his station. A comparatively small sum was left to +Jack Neville, and a special gem to Sophie Mellerby. There were bequests +to all the servants, a thousand pounds to the vicar of the +parish,--which perhaps was the only legacy which astonished the +legatee,--and his affectionate love to every tenant on the estate. All +the world acknowledged that it was as good a will as the Earl could have +made. Then the last of the strangers left the house, and the Earl of +Scroope was left to begin his reign and do his duty as best he might. + +Jack had promised to remain with him for a few days, and Sophie +Mellerby, who had altogether given up her London season, was to stay +with the widow till something should be settled as to a future +residence. "If my aunt will only say that she will keep the house for a +couple of years, she shall have it," said Fred to the young +lady,--perhaps wishing to postpone for so long a time the embarrassment +of the large domain; but to this Lady Scroope would not consent. If +allowed she would remain till the end of July. By that time she would +find herself a home. + +"For the life of me, I don't know how to begin my life," said the new +peer to his brother as they were walking about the park together. + +"Do not think about beginning it at all. You won't be angry, and will +know what I mean, when I say that you should avoid thinking too much of +your own position." + +"How am I to help thinking of it? It is so entirely changed from what it +was." + +"No Fred,--not entirely; nor as I hope, is it changed at all in those +matters which are of most importance to you. A man's self, and his ideas +of the manner in which he should rule himself, should be more to him +than any outward accidents. Had that cousin of ours never died--" + +"I almost wish he never had." + +"It would then have been your ambition to live as an honourable +gentleman. To be that now should be more to you than to be an Earl and a +man of fortune." + +"It's very easy to preach, Jack. You were always good at that. But here +I am, and what am I to do? How am I to begin? Everybody says that I am +to change nothing. The tenants will pay their rents, and Burnaby will +look after things outside, and Mrs. Bunce will look after the things +inside, and I may sit down and read a novel. When the gloom of my +uncle's death has passed away, I suppose I shall buy a few more horses +and perhaps begin to make a row about the pheasants. I don't know what +else there is to do." + +"You'll find that there are duties." + +"I suppose I shall. Something is expected of me. I am to keep up the +honour of the family; but it really seems to me that the best way of +doing so would be to sit in my uncle's arm chair and go to sleep as he +did." + +"As a first step in doing something you should get a wife for yourself. +If once you had a settled home, things would arrange themselves round +you very easily." + +"Ah, yes;--a wife. You know, Jack, I told you about that girl in County +Clare." + +"You must let nothing of that kind stand in your way." + +"Those are your ideas of high moral grandeur! Just now my own personal +conduct was to be all in all to me, and the rank nothing. Now I am to +desert a girl I love because I am an English peer." + +"What has passed between you and the young lady, of course I do not +know." + +"I may as well tell you the whole truth," said Fred. And he told it. He +told it honestly,--almost honestly. It is very hard for a man to tell a +story truly against himself, but he intended to tell the whole truth. +"Now what must I do? Would you have me marry her?" Jack Neville paused +for a long time. "At any rate you can say yes, or no." + +"It is very hard to say yes, or no." + +"I can marry no one else. I can see my way so far. You had better tell +Sophie Mellerby everything, and then a son of yours shall be the future +Earl." + +"We are both of us young as yet, Fred, and need not think of that. If +you do mean to marry Miss O'Hara you should lose not a day;--not a day." + +"But what if I don't. You are always very ready with advice, but you +have given me none as yet." + +"How can I advise you? I should have heard the very words in which you +made your promise before I could dare to say whether it should be kept +or broken. As a rule a man should keep his word." + +"Let the consequences be what they may?" + +"A man should keep his word certainly. And I know no promise so solemn +as that made to a woman when followed by conduct such as yours has +been." + +"And what will people say then as to my conduct to the family? How will +they look on me when I bring home the daughter of that scoundrel?" + +"You should have thought of that before." + +"But I was not told. Do you not see that I was deceived there. Mrs. +O'Hara clearly said that the man was dead. And she told me nothing of +the galleys." + +"How could she tell you that?" + +"But if she has deceived me, how can I be expected to keep my promise? I +love the girl dearly. If I could change places with you, I would do so +this very minute, and take her away with me, and she should certainly be +my wife. If it were only myself, I would give up all to her. I would, by +heaven. But I cannot sacrifice the family. As to solemn promises, did I +not swear to my uncle that I would not disgrace the family by such a +marriage? Almost the last word that I spoke to him was that. Am I to be +untrue to him? There are times in which it seems impossible that a man +should do right." + +"There are times in which a man may be too blind to see the right," said +Jack,--sparing his brother in that he did not remind him that those +dilemmas always come from original wrong-doing. + +"I think I am resolved not to marry her," said Fred. + +"If I were in your place I think I should marry her," said Jack;--"but I +will not speak with certainty even of myself." + +"I shall not. But I will be true to her all the same. You may be sure +that I shall not marry at all." Then he recurred to his old scheme. "If +I can find any mode of marrying her in some foreign country, so that her +son and mine shall not be the legitimate heir to the title and estates, +I would go there at once with her, though it were to the further end of +the world. You can understand now what I mean when I say that I do not +know how to begin." Jack acknowledged that in that matter he did +understand his brother. It is always hard for a man to commence any new +duty when he knows that he has a millstone round his neck which will +probably make that duty impracticable at last. + +He went on with his life at Scroope for a week after the funeral without +resolving upon anything, or taking any steps towards solving the O'Hara +difficulty. He did ride about among the tenants, and gave some trifling +orders as to the house and stables. His brother was still with him, and +Miss Mellerby remained at the Manor. But he knew that the thunder-cloud +must break over his head before long, and at last the storm was +commenced. The first drops fell upon him in the soft form of a letter +from Kate O'Hara. + + + DEAREST FRED, + + I am not quite sure that I ought to address you like that; but + I always shall unless you tell me not. We have been expecting a + letter from you every day since you went. Your friend from Ennis + came here, and brought us the news of your uncle's death. We + were very sorry; at least I was certainly. I liked to think of + you a great deal better as my own Fred, than as a great lord. + But you will still be my own Fred always; will you not? + + Mother said at once that it was a matter of course that you + should go to England; but your friend, whose name we never heard, + said that you had sent him especially to promise that you would + write quite immediately, and that you would come back very soon. + I do not know what he will think of me, because I asked him + whether he was quite, quite sure that you would come back. If he + thinks that I love you better than my own soul, he only thinks + the truth. + + Pray,--pray write at once. Mother is getting vexed because there + is no letter. I am never vexed with my own darling love, but I + do so long for a letter. If you knew how I felt, I do think you + would write almost every day,--if it were only just one short + word. If you would say, 'Dear Love,' that would be enough. And + pray come. Oh do, do, pray come! Cannot you think how I must + long to see you! The gentleman who came here said that you would + come, and I know you will. But pray come soon. Think, now, how + you are all the world to me. You are more than all the world to + me. + + I am not ill as I was when you were here. But I never go outside + the door now. I never shall go outside the door again till you + come. I don't care now for going out upon the rocks. I don't care + even for the birds as you are not here to watch them with me. I + sit with the skin of the seal you gave me behind my head, and I + pretend to sleep. But though I am quite still for hours I am not + asleep, but thinking always of you. + + We have neither seen or heard anything more of my father, + and Father Marty says that you have managed about that very + generously. You are always generous and good. I was so wretched + all that day, that I thought I should have died. You will not + think ill of your Kate, will you, because her father is bad? + + Pray write when you get this, and above all things let us know + when you will come to us. + + Always, always, and always, + + Your own + + KATE. + + +Two days after this, while the letter was still unanswered, there came +another from Mrs. O'Hara which was, if possible, more grievous to him +than that from her daughter. + +"My Lord," the letter began. When he read this he turned from it with a +sickening feeling of disgust. Of course the woman knew that he was now +Earl of Scroope; but it would have been so desirable that there should +have been no intercourse between her and him except under the name by +which she had hitherto known him. And then in the appellation as she +used it there seemed to be a determination to reproach him which must, +he knew, lead to great misery. + + + MY LORD, + + The messenger you sent to us brought us good news, and told us + that you were gone home to your own affairs. That I suppose was + right, but why have you not written to us before this? Why have + you not told my poor girl that you will come to her, and atone + to her for the injury you have done in the only manner now + possible? I cannot and do not believe that you intend to evade + the solemn promises that you have made her, and allow her to + remain here a ruined outcast, and the mother of your child. I + have thought you to be both a gentleman and a christian, and I + still think so. Most assuredly you would be neither were you + disposed to leave her desolate, while you are in prosperity. + + I call upon you, my lord, in the most solemn manner, with all + the energy and anxiety of a mother,--of one who will be of all + women the most broken-hearted if you wrong her,--to write at + once and let me know when you will be here to keep your promise. + For the sake of your own offspring I implore you not to delay. + + We feel under deep obligations to you for what you did in + respect of that unhappy man. We have never for a moment doubted + your generosity. + + Yours, My Lord, + + With warmest affection, if you will admit it, + + C. O'HARA. + + P.S. I ask you to come at once and keep your word. Were you to + think of breaking it, I would follow you through the world. + + +The young Earl, when he received this, was not at a loss for a moment to +attribute the body of Mrs. O'Hara's letter to Father Marty's power of +composition, and the postscript to the unaided effort of the lady +herself. Take it as he might--as coming from Mrs. O'Hara or from the +priest,--he found the letter to be a great burden to him. He had not as +yet answered the one received from Kate, as to the genuineness of which +he had entertained no doubt. How should he answer such letters? Some +answer must of course be sent, and must be the forerunner of his future +conduct. But how should he write his letter when he had not as yet +resolved what his conduct should be? + +He did attempt to write a letter, not to either of the ladies, but to +the priest, explaining that in the ordinary sense of the word he could +not and would not marry Miss O'Hara, but that in any way short of that +legitimate and usual mode of marriage, he would bind himself to her, and +that when so bound he would be true to her for life. He would make any +settlement that he, Father Marty, might think right either upon the +mother or upon the daughter. But Countess of Scroope the daughter of +that Captain O'Hara should not become through his means. Then he +endeavoured to explain the obligation laid upon him by his uncle, and +the excuse which he thought he could plead in not having been informed +of Captain O'Hara's existence. But the letter when written seemed to him +to be poor and mean, cringing and at the same time false. He told +himself that it would not suffice. It was manifest to him that he must +go back to County Clare, even though he should encounter Mrs. O'Hara, +dagger in hand. What was any personal danger to himself in such an +affair as this? And if he did not fear a woman's dagger, was he to fear +a woman's tongue,--or the tongue of a priest? So he tore the letter, and +resolved that he would write and name a day on which he would appear at +Ardkill. At any rate such a letter as that might be easily written, and +might be made soft with words of love. + + + DEAREST KATE, + + I will be with you on the 15th or on the 16th at latest. You + should remember that a man has a good deal to do and think of + when he gets pitchforked into such a new phase of life as mine. + Do not, however, think that I quarrel with you, my darling. + That I will never do. My love to your mother. + + Ever your own, + + FRED. + + I hate signing the other name. + + +This letter was not only written but sent. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +SANS REPROCHE. + + +Three or four days after writing his letter to Kate O'Hara, the Earl +told his aunt that he must return to Ireland, and he named the day on +which he would leave Scroope. "I did not think that you would go back +there," she said. He could see by the look of her face and by the +anxious glance of her eye that she had in her heart the fear of Kate +O'Hara,--as he had also. + +"I must return. I came away at a moment's notice." + +"But you have written about leaving the regiment." + +"Yes;--I have done that. In the peculiar circumstances I don't suppose +they will want me to serve again. Indeed I've had a letter, just a +private note, from one of the fellows at the Horse Guards explaining all +that." + +"I don't see why you should go at all;--indeed I do not." + +"What am I to do about my things? I owe some money. I've got three or +four horses there. My very clothes are all about just as I left them +when I came away." + +"Any body can manage all that. Give the horses away." + +"I had rather not give away my horses," he said laughing. "The fact is I +must go." She could urge nothing more to him on that occasion. She did +not then mention the existence of Kate O'Hara. But he knew well that she +was thinking of the girl, and he knew also that the activity of Lady +Mary Quin had not slackened. But his aunt, he thought, was more afraid +of him now that he was the Earl than she had been when he was only the +heir; and it might be that this feeling would save him from the mention +of Kate O'Hara's name. + +To some extent the dowager was afraid of her nephew. She knew at least +that the young man was all-powerful and might act altogether as he +listed. In whatever she might say she could not now be supported by the +authority of the Lord of Scroope. He himself was lord of Scroope; and +were he to tell her simply to hold her tongue and mind her own business +she could only submit. But she was not the woman to allow any sense of +fear, or any solicitude as to the respect due to herself, to stand in +the way of the performance of a duty. It may be declared on her behalf +that had it been in her nephew's power to order her head off in +punishment for her interference, she would still have spoken had she +conceived it to be right to speak. + +But within her own bosom there had been dreadful conflicts as to that +duty. Lady Mary Quin had by no means slackened her activity. Lady Mary +Quin had learned the exact condition of Kate O'Hara, and had sent the +news to her friend with greedy rapidity. And in sending it Lady Mary +Quin entertained no slightest doubt as to the duty of the present Earl +of Scroope. According to her thinking it could not be the duty of an +Earl of Scroope in any circumstances to marry a Kate O'Hara. There are +women, who in regard to such troubles as now existed at Ardkill cottage, +always think that the woman should be punished as the sinner and that +the man should be assisted to escape. The hardness of heart of such +women,--who in all other views of life are perhaps tender and +soft-natured,--is one of the marvels of our social system. It is as +though a certain line were drawn to include all women,--a line, but, +alas, little more than a line,--by overstepping which, or rather by +being known to have overstepped it, a woman ceases to be a woman in the +estimation of her own sex. That the existence of this feeling has strong +effect in saving women from passing the line, none of us can doubt. That +its general tendency may be good rather than evil, is possible. But the +hardness necessary to preserve the rule, a hardness which must be +exclusively feminine but which is seldom wanting, is a marvellous +feature in the female character. Lady Mary Quin probably thought but +little on the subject. The women in the cottage on the cliff, who were +befriended by Father Marty, were to her dangerous scheming Roman +Catholic adventurers. The proper triumph of Protestant virtue required +that they should fail in their adventures. She had always known that +there would be something disreputable heard of them sooner or later. +When the wretched Captain came into the neighbourhood,--and she soon +heard of his coming,--she was gratified by feeling that her convictions +had been correct. When the sad tidings as to poor Kate reached her ears, +she had "known that it would be so." That such a girl should be made +Countess of Scroope in reward for her wickedness would be to her an +event horrible, almost contrary to Divine Providence,--a testimony that +the Evil One was being allowed peculiar power at the moment, and would +no doubt have been used in her own circles to show the ruin that had +been brought upon the country by Catholic emancipation. She did not for +a moment doubt that the present Earl should be encouraged to break any +promises of marriage to the making of which he might have been allured. + +But it was not so with Lady Scroope. She, indeed, came to the same +conclusion as her friend, but she did so with much difficulty and after +many inward struggles. She understood and valued the customs of the +magic line. In her heart of hearts she approved of a different code of +morals for men and women. That which merited instant, and as regarded +this world, perpetual condemnation in a woman, might in a man be very +easily forgiven. A sigh, a shake of the head, and some small innocent +stratagem that might lead to a happy marriage and settlement in life +with increased income, would have been her treatment of such sin for the +heirs of the great and wealthy. She knew that the world could not afford +to ostracise the men,--though happily it might condemn the women. +Nevertheless, when she came to the single separated instance, though her +heart melted with no ruth for the woman,--in such cases the woman must +be seen before the ruth is felt,--though pity for Kate O'Hara did not +influence her, she did acknowledge the sanctity of a gentleman's word. +If, as Lady Mary told her, and as she could so well believe, the present +Earl of Scroope had given to this girl a promise that he would marry +her, if he had bound himself by his pledged word, as a nobleman and a +gentleman, how could she bid him become a perjured knave? Sans reproche! +Was he thus to begin to live and to deserve the motto of his house by +the conduct of his life? + +But then the evil that would be done was so great! She did not for a +moment doubt all that Lady Mary told her about the girl. The worst of it +had indeed been admitted. She was a Roman Catholic, ill-born, +ill-connected, damaged utterly by a parent so low that nothing lower +could possibly be raked out of the world's gutters. And now the girl +herself was--a castaway. Such a marriage as that of which Lady Mary +spoke would not only injure the house of Scroope for the present +generation, but would tend to its final downfall. Would it not be known +throughout all England that the next Earl of Scroope would be the +grandson of a convict? Might there not be questions as to the legitimacy +of the assumed heir? She herself knew of noble families which had been +scattered, confounded, and almost ruined by such imprudence. Hitherto +the family of Scroope had been continued from generation to generation +without stain,--almost without stain. It had felt it to be a fortunate +thing that the late heir had died because of the pollution of his +wretched marriage. And now must evil as bad befall it, worse evil +perhaps, through the folly of this young man? Must that proud motto be +taken down from its place in the hall from very shame? But the evil had +not been done yet, and it might be that her words could save the house +from ruin and disgrace. + +She was a woman of whom it may be said that whatever difficulty she +might have in deciding a question she could recognise the necessity of a +decision and could abide by it when she had made it. It was with great +difficulty that she could bring herself to think that an Earl of Scroope +should be false to a promise by which he had seduced a woman, but she +did succeed in bringing herself to such thought. Her very heart bled +within her as she acknowledged the necessity. A lie to her was +abominable. A lie, to be told by herself, would have been hideous to +her. A lie to be told by him, was worse. As virtue, what she called +virtue, was the one thing indispensable to women, so was truth the one +thing indispensable to men. And yet she must tell him to lie, and having +resolved so to tell him, must use all her intellect to defend the +lie,--and to insist upon it. + +He was determined to return to Ireland, and there was nothing that she +could do to prevent his return. She could not bid him shun a danger +simply because it was a danger. He was his own master, and were she to +do so he would only laugh at her. Of authority with him she had none. If +she spoke, he must listen. Her position would secure so much to her from +courtesy,--and were she to speak of the duty which he owed to his name +and to the family he could hardly laugh. She therefore sent to him a +message. Would he kindly go to her in her own room? Of course he +attended to her wishes and went. "You mean to leave us to-morrow, Fred," +she said. We all know the peculiar solemnity of a widow's dress,--the +look of self-sacrifice on the part of the woman which the dress creates; +and have perhaps recognised the fact that if the woman be deterred by no +necessities of oeconomy in her toilet,--as in such material +circumstances the splendour is more perfect if splendour be the +object,--so also is the self-sacrifice more abject. And with this widow +an appearance of melancholy solemnity, almost of woe, was natural to +her. She was one whose life had ever been serious, solemn, and sad. +Wealth and the outward pomp of circumstances had conferred upon her a +certain dignity; and with that doubtless there had reached her some +feeling of satisfaction. Religion too had given her comfort, and a +routine of small duties had saved her from the wretchedness of ennui. +But life with her had had no laughter, and had seldom smiled. Now in the +first days of her widowhood she regarded her course as run, and looked +upon herself as one who, in speaking, almost spoke from the tomb. All +this had its effect upon the young lord. She did inspire him with a +certain awe; and though her weeds gave her no authority, they did give +her weight. + +"Yes; I shall start to-morrow," he replied. + +"And you still mean to go to Ireland?" + +"Yes;--I must go to Ireland. I shan't stay there, you know." + +Then she paused a moment before she proceeded. "Shall you see--that +young woman when you are there?" + +"I suppose I shall see her." + +"Pray do not think that I desire to interfere with your private affairs. +I know well that I have no right to assume over you any of that +affectionate authority which a mother might have,--though in truth I +love you as a son." + +"I would treat you just as I would my own mother." + +"No, Fred; that cannot be so. A mother would throw her arms round you +and cling to you if she saw you going into danger. A mother would follow +you, hoping that she might save you." + +"But there is no danger." + +"Ah, Fred, I fear there is." + +"What danger?" + +"You are now the head of one of the oldest and the noblest families in +this which in my heart I believe to be the least sinful among the sinful +nations of the wicked world." + +"I don't quite know how that may be;--I mean about the world. Of course +I understand about the family." + +"But you love your country?" + +"Oh yes. I don't think there's any place like England,--to live in." + +"And England is what it is because there are still some left among us +who are born to high rank and who know how to live up to the standard +that is required of them. If ever there was such a man, your uncle was +such a one." + +"I'm sure he was;--just what he ought to have been." + +"Honourable, true, affectionate, self-denying, affable to all men, but +ever conscious of his rank, giving much because much had been given to +him, asserting his nobility for the benefit of those around him, proud +of his order for the sake of his country, bearing his sorrows with the +dignity of silence, a nobleman all over, living on to the end sans +reproche! He was a man whom you may dare to imitate, though to follow +him may be difficult." She spoke not loudly, but clearly, looking him +full in the face as she stood motionless before him. + +"He was all that," said Fred, almost overpowered by the sincere +solemnity of his aunt's manner. + +"Will you try to walk in his footsteps?" + +"Two men can never be like one another in that way. I shall never be +what he was. But I'll endeavour to get along as well as I can." + +"You will remember your order?" + +"Yes, I will. I do remember it. Mind you, aunt, I am not glad that I +belong to it. I think I do understand about it all, and will do my best. +But Jack would have made a better Earl than I shall do. That's the +truth." + +"The Lord God has placed you,--and you must pray to Him that He will +enable you to do your duty in that state of life to which it has pleased +Him to call you. You are here and must bear his decree; and whether it +be a privilege to enjoy, you must enjoy it, or a burden to bear, you +must endure it." + +"It is so of course." + +"Knowing that, you must know also how incumbent it is upon you not to +defile the stock from which you are sprung." + +"I suppose it has been defiled," said Fred, who had been looking into +the history of the family. "The ninth Earl seems to have married nobody +knows whom. And his son was my uncle's grandfather." + +This was a blow to Lady Scroope, but she bore it with dignity and +courage. "You would hardly wish it to be said that you had copied the +only one of your ancestors who did amiss. The world was rougher then +than it is now, and he of whom you speak was a soldier." + +"I'm a soldier too," said the Earl. + +"Oh, Fred, is it thus you answer me! He was a soldier in rough times, +when there were wars. I think he married when he was with the army under +Marlborough." + +"I have not seen anything of that kind, certainly." + +"Your country is at peace, and your place is here, among your tenantry, +at Scroope. You will promise me, Fred, that you will not marry this girl +in Ireland?" + +"If I do, the fault will be all with that old maid at Castle Quin." + +"Do not say that, Fred. It is impossible. Let her conduct have been what +it may, it cannot make that right in you which would have been wrong, or +that wrong which would have been right." + +"She's a nasty meddlesome cat." + +"I will not talk about her. What good would it do? You cannot at any +rate be surprised at my extreme anxiety. You did promise your uncle most +solemnly that you would never marry this young lady." + +"If I did, that ought to be enough." He was now waxing angry and his +face was becoming red. He would bear a good deal from his uncle's widow, +but he felt his own power and was not prepared to bear much more. + +"Of course I cannot bind you. I know well how impotent I am,--how +powerless to exercise control. But I think, Fred, that for your uncle's +sake you will not refuse to repeat your promise to me, if you intend to +keep it. Why is it that I am so anxious? It is for your sake, and for +the sake of a name which should be dearer to you than it is even to me." + +"I have no intention of marrying at all." + +"Do not say that." + +"I do say it. I do not want to keep either you or Jack in the dark as to +my future life. This young lady,--of whom, by the by, neither you nor +Lady Mary Quin know anything, shall not become Countess of Scroope. To +that I have made up my mind." + +"Thank God." + +"But as long as she lives I will make no woman Countess of Scroope. Let +Jack marry this girl that he is in love with. They shall live here and +have the house to themselves if they like it. He will look after the +property and shall have whatever income old Mellerby thinks proper. I +will keep the promise I made to my uncle,--but the keeping of it will +make it impossible for me to live here. I would prefer now that you +should say no more on the subject." Then he left her, quitting the room +with some stateliness in his step, as though conscious that at such a +moment as this it behoved him to assume his rank. + +The dowager sat alone all that morning thinking of the thing she had +done. She did now believe that he was positively resolved not to marry +Kate O'Hara, and she believed also that she herself had fixed him in +that resolution. In doing so had she or had she not committed a deadly +sin? She knew almost with accuracy what had occurred on the coast of +Clare. A young girl, innocent herself up to that moment, had been +enticed to her ruin by words of love which had been hallowed in her ears +by vows of marriage. Those vows which had possessed so deadly an +efficacy, were now to be simply broken! The cruelty to her would be +damnable, devilish,--surely worthy of hell if any sin of man can be so +called! And she, who could not divest herself of a certain pride taken +in the austere morality of her own life, she who was now a widow anxious +to devote her life solely to God, had persuaded the man to this sin, in +order that her successor as Countess of Scroope might not be, in her +opinion, unfitting for nobility! The young lord had promised her that he +would be guilty of this sin, so damnable, so devilish, telling her as he +did so, that as a consequence of his promise he must continue to live a +life of wickedness! In the agony of her spirit she threw herself upon +her knees and implored the Lord to pardon her and to guide her. But even +while kneeling before the throne of heaven she could not drive the pride +of birth out of her heart. That the young Earl might be saved from the +damning sin and also from the polluting marriage;--that was the prayer +she prayed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +LOOSE ABOUT THE WORLD. + + +The Countess was seen no more on that day,--was no more seen at least by +either of the two brothers. Miss Mellerby was with her now and again, +but on each occasion only for a few minutes, and reported that Lady +Scroope was ill and could not appear at dinner. She would, however, see +her nephew before he started on the following morning. + +Fred himself was much affected by the interview with his aunt. No doubt +he had made a former promise to his uncle, similar to that which had now +been exacted from him. No doubt he had himself resolved, after what he +had thought to be mature consideration that he would not marry the girl, +justifying to himself this decision by the deceit which he thought had +been practised upon him in regard to Captain O'Hara. Nevertheless, he +felt that by what had now occurred he was bound more strongly against +the marriage than he had ever been bound before. His promise to his +uncle might have been regarded as being obligatory only as long as his +uncle lived. His own decision he would have been at liberty to change +when he pleased to do so. But, though his aunt was almost nothing to +him,--was not in very truth his aunt, but only the widow of his uncle, +there had been a solemnity about the engagement as he had now made +it with her, which he felt to be definitely binding. He must go to +Ardkill prepared to tell them absolutely the truth. He would make any +arrangement they pleased as to their future joint lives, so long as it +was an arrangement by which Kate should not become Countess of Scroope. +He did not attempt to conceal from himself the dreadful nature of the +task before him. He knew what would be the indignation of the priest. He +could picture to himself the ferocity of the mother, defending her young +as a lioness would her whelp. He could imagine that that dagger might +again be brought from its hiding place. And, worse than all, he would +see the girl prostrate in her woe, and appealing to his love and to his +oaths, when the truth as to her future life should be revealed to her. +But yet he did not think of shunning the task before him. He could not +endure to live a coward in his own esteem. + +He was unlike himself and very melancholy. "It has been so good of +you to remain here," he said to Sophie Mellerby. They had now become +intimate and almost attached to each other as friends. If she had +allowed a spark of hope to become bright within her heart in regard to +the young Earl that had long since been quenched. She had acknowledged +to herself that had it been possible in other respects they would not +have suited each other,--and now they were friends. + +"I love your aunt dearly and have been very glad to be with her." + +"I wish you would learn to love somebody else dearly." + +"Perhaps I shall, some day,--somebody else; though I don't at all know +who it may be." + +"You know whom I mean." + +"I suppose I do." + +"And why not love him? Isn't he a good fellow?" + +"One can't love all the good fellows, Lord Scroope." + +"You'll never find a better one than he is." + +"Did he commission you to speak for him?" + +"You know he didn't. You know that he would be the last man in the world +to do so?" + +"I was surprised." + +"But I had a reason for speaking." + +"No doubt." + +"I don't suppose it will have any effect with you;--but it is something +you ought to know. If any man of my age can be supposed to have made up +his mind on such a matter, you may believe that I have made up my mind +that I will--never marry." + +"What nonsense, Lord Scroope." + +"Well;--yes; perhaps it is. But I am so convinced of it myself that I +shall ask my brother to come and live here--permanently,--as master of +the place. As he would have to leave his regiment it would of course be +necessary that his position here should be settled,--and it shall be +settled." + +"I most sincerely hope that you will always live here yourself." + +"It won't suit me. Circumstances have made it impossible. If he will not +do so, nor my aunt, the house must be shut up. I am most anxious that +this should not be done. I shall implore him to remain here, and to be +here exactly as I should have been,--had things with me not have been so +very unfortunate. He will at any rate have a house to offer you, if--" + +"Lord Scroope!" + +"I know what you are going to say, Sophie." + +"I don't know that I am as yet disposed to marry for the sake of a house +to shelter me." + +"Of course you would say that; but still I think that I have been right +to tell you. I am sure you will believe my assurance that Jack knows +nothing of all this." + +That same evening he said nearly the same thing to his brother, though +in doing so he made no special allusion to Sophie Mellerby. "I know that +there is a great deal that a fellow should do, living in such a house as +this, but I am not the man to do it. It's a very good kind of life, if +you happen to be up to it. I am not, but you are." + +"My dear Fred, you can't change the accidents of birth." + +"In a great measure I can; or at least we can do so between us. You +can't be Lord Scroope, but you can be master of Scroope Manor." + +"No I can't;--and, which is more, I won't. Don't think I am uncivil." + +"You are uncivil, Jack." + +"At any rate I am not ungrateful. I only want you to understand +thoroughly that such an arrangement is out of the question. In no +condition of life would I care to be the locum tenens for another man. +You are now five or six and twenty. At thirty you may be a married man +with an absolute need for your own house." + +"I would execute any deed." + +"So that I might be enabled to keep the owner of the property out of the +only place that is fit for him! It is a power which I should not use, +and do not wish to possess. Believe me, Fred, that a man is bound to +submit himself to the circumstances by which he is surrounded, when it +is clear that they are beneficial to the world at large. There must be +an Earl of Scroope, and you at present are the man." + +They were sitting together out upon the terrace after dinner, and for a +time there was silence. His brother's arguments were too strong for the +young lord, and it was out of his power to deal with one so dogmatic. +But he did not forget the last words that had been spoken. It may be +that "I shall not be the man very long," he said at last. + +"Any of us may die to-day or to-morrow," said Jack. + +"I have a kind of presentiment,--not that I shall die, but that I shall +never see Scroope again. It seems as though I were certainly leaving for +ever a place that has always been distasteful to me." + +"I never believe anything of presentiments." + +"No; of course not. You're not that sort of fellow at all. But I am. I +can't think of myself as living here with a dozen old fogies about the +place all doing nothing, touching their hats, my-lording me at every +turn, looking respectable, but as idle as pickpockets." + +"You'll have to do it." + +"Perhaps I shall, but I don't think it." Then there was again silence +for a time. "The less said about it the better, but I know that I've got +a very difficult job before me in Ireland." + +"I don't envy you, Fred;--not that." + +"It is no use talking about it. It has got to be done, and the sooner +done the better. What I shall do when it is done, I have not the most +remote idea. Where I shall be living this day month I cannot guess. I +can only say one thing certainly, and that is that I shall not come back +here. There never was a fellow so loose about the world as I am." + +It was terrible that a young man who had it in his power to do so much +good or so much evil should have had nothing to bind him to the better +course! There was the motto of his house, and the promises which he had +made to his uncle persuading him to that which was respectable and as he +thought dull; and opposed to those influences there was an unconquerable +feeling on his own part that he was altogether unfitted for the kind +of life that was expected of him. Joined to this there was the fact of +that unfortunate connection in Ireland from which he knew that it would +be base to fly, and which, as it seemed to him, made any attempt at +respectability impossible to him. + +Early on the following morning, as he was preparing to start, his aunt +again sent for him. She came out to him in the sitting-room adjoining +her bedroom and there embraced him. Her eyes were red with weeping, and +her face wan with care. "Fred," she said; "dear Fred." + +"Good-bye, aunt. The last word I have to say is that I implore you not +to leave Scroope as long as you are comfortable here." + +"You will come back?" + +"I cannot say anything certain about that." + +She still had hold of him with both hands and was looking into his face +with loving, frightened, wistful eyes. "I know," she said, "that you +will be thinking of what passed between us yesterday." + +"Certainly I shall remember it." + +"I have been praying for you, Fred; and now I tell you to look to your +Father which is in Heaven for guidance, and not to take it from any poor +frail sinful human being. Ask Him to keep your feet steady in the path, +and your heart pure, and your thoughts free from wickedness. Oh, Fred, +keep your mind and body clear before Him, and if you will kneel to Him +for protection, He will show you a way through all difficulties." It was +thus that she intended to tell him that his promise to her, made on the +previous day, was to count for nought, and that he was to marry the girl +if by no other way he could release himself from vice. But she could not +bring herself to declare to him in plain terms that he had better marry +Kate O'Hara, and bring his new Countess to Scroope in order that she +might be fitly received by her predecessor. It might be that the Lord +would still show him a way out of the two evils. + +But his brother was more clear of purpose with him, as they walked +together out to the yard in which the young Earl was to get into his +carriage. "Upon the whole, Fred, if I were you I should marry that +girl." This he said quite abruptly. The young lord shook his head. "It +may be that I do not know all the circumstances. If they be as I have +heard them from you, I should marry her. Good-bye. Let me hear from you, +when you have settled as to going anywhere." + +"I shall be sure to write," said Fred as he took the reins and seated +him in the phaeton. + +His brother's advice he understood plainly, and that of his aunt he +thought that he understood. But he shook his head again as he told +himself that he could not now be guided by either of them. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AT LISCANNOR. + + +The young lord slept one night at Ennis, and on the third morning after +his departure from Scroope, started in his gig for Liscannor and the +cliffs of Moher. He took a servant with him and a change of clothes. And +as he went his heart was very heavy. He could not live a coward in his +own esteem. Were it not so how willingly would he have saved himself +from the misery of this journey, and have sent to his Kate to bid her +come to him in England! He feared the priest, and he feared his Kate's +mother;--not her dagger, but her eyes and scorching words. He altogether +doubted his own powers to perform satisfactorily the task before him. He +knew men who could do it. His brother Jack would do it, were it possible +that his brother Jack should be in such a position. But for himself, he +was conscious of a softness of heart, a feminine tenderness, which,--to +do him justice,--he did not mistake for sincerity, that rendered him +unfit for the task before him. The farther he journeyed from Scroope +and the nearer that he found himself to the cliffs the stronger did +the feeling grow within him, till it had become almost tragical in its +dominion over him. But still he went on. It was incumbent on him to pay +one more visit to the cliffs and he journeyed on. + +At Limerick he did not even visit the barracks to see his late +companions of the regiment. At Ennis he slept in his old room, and of +course the two officers who were quartered there came to him. But they +both declared when they left him that the Earl of Scroope and Fred +Neville were very different persons, attributing the difference solely +to the rank and wealth of the new peer. Poor Simpkinson had expected +long whispered confidential conversations respecting the ladies of +Ardkill; but the Earl had barely thanked him for his journey; and the +whispered confidence, which would have been so delightful, was at once +impossible. "By Heaven, there's nothing like rank to spoil a fellow. He +was a good fellow once." So spoke Captain Johnstone, as the two officers +retreated together from the Earl's room. + +And the Earl also saw Mr. Crowe the attorney. Mr. Crowe recognized at +its full weight the importance of a man whom he might now call "My Lord" +as often as he pleased, and as to whose pecuniary position he had made +some gratifying inquiries. A very few words sufficed. Captain O'Hara +had taken his departure, and the money would be paid regularly. Mr. +Crowe also noticed the stern silence of the man, but thought that it +was becoming in an Earl with so truly noble a property. Of the Castle +Quin people who could hardly do more than pay their way like country +gentlefolk, and who were mere Irish, Mr. Crowe did not think much. + +Every hour that brought the lord nearer to Liscannor added a weight to +his bosom. As he drove his gig along the bleak road to Ennistimon his +heart was very heavy indeed. At Maurice's mills, the only resting-place +on the road, it had been his custom to give his horse a mouthful of +water; but he would not do so now though the poor beast would fain +have stopped there. He drove the animal on ruthlessly, himself driven +by a feeling of unrest which would not allow him to pause. He hated +the country now, and almost told himself that he hated all whom it +contained. How miserable was his lot, that he should have bound himself +in the opening of his splendour, in the first days of a career that +might have been so splendid, to misfortune that was squalid and mean as +this. To him, to one placed by circumstances as he was placed, it was +squalid and mean. By a few soft words spoken to a poor girl whom he +had chanced to find among the rocks he had so bound himself with vile +manacles, had so crippled, hampered and fettered himself, that he +was forced to renounce all the glories of his station. Wealth almost +unlimited was at his command,--and rank, and youth, and such personal +gifts of appearance and disposition as best serve to win general love. +He had talked to his brother of his unfitness for his earldom; but he +could have blazoned it forth at Scroope and up in London, with the best +of young lords, and have loved well to do so. But this adventure, as he +had been wont to call it, had fallen upon him, and had broken him as it +were in pieces. Thousands a year he would have paid to be rid of his +adventure; but thousands a year, he knew well, were of no avail. He +might have sent over some English Mr. Crowe with offers almost royal; +but he had been able so to discern the persons concerned as to know that +royal offers, of which the royalty would be simply money royalty, could +be of no avail. How would that woman have looked at any messenger +who had come to her with offers of money,--and proposed to take her +child into some luxurious but disgraceful seclusion? And in what +language would Father Marty have expressed himself on such a proposed +arrangement? And so the Earl of Scroope drove on with his heart falling +ever lower and lower within his bosom. + +It had of course been necessary that he should form some plan. He +proposed to get rooms for one night at the little inn at Ennistimon, +to leave his gig there, and then to take one of the country cars on to +Liscannor. It would, he thought, be best to see the priest first. Let +him look at his task which way he would, he found that every part of it +was bad. An interview with Father Marty would be very bad, for he must +declare his intentions in such a way that no doubt respecting them must +be left on the priest's mind. He would speak only to three persons;--but +to all those three he must now tell the certain truth. There were causes +at work which made it impossible that Kate O'Hara should become Countess +of Scroope. They might tear him to pieces, but from that decision he +would not budge. Subject to that decision they might do with him and +with all that belonged to him almost as they pleased. He would explain +this first to the priest if it should chance that he found the priest at +home. + +He left his gig and servant at Ennistimon and proceeded as he had +intended along the road to Liscannor on an outside car. In the +mid-distance about two miles out of the town he met Father Marty riding +on the road. He had almost hoped,--nay, he had hoped,--that the priest +might not be at home. But here was the lion in his path. "Ah, my Lord," +said the priest in his sweetest tone of good humour,--and his tones when +he was so disposed were very sweet,--"Ah, my Lord, this is a sight good +for sore eyes. They tould me you were to be here to-day or to-morrow, +and I took it for granted therefore it 'd be the day afther. But you're +as good as the best of your word." The Earl of Scroope got off the car, +and holding the priest's hand, answered the kindly salutation. But he +did so with a constrained air and with a solemnity which the priest +also attributed to his newly-begotten rank. Fred Neville,--as he had +been a week or two since,--was almost grovelling in the dust before +the priest's eyes; but the priest for the moment thought that he was +wrapping himself up in the sables and ermine of his nobility. However, +he had come back,--which was more perhaps than Father Marty had +expected,--and the best must be made of him with reference to poor +Kate's future happiness. "You're going on to Ardkill, I suppose, my +Lord," he said. + +"Yes;--certainly; but I intended to take the Liscannor road on purpose +to see you. I shall leave the car at Liscannor and walk up. You could +not return, I suppose?" + +"Well,--yes,--I might." + +"If you could, Father Marty--" + +"Oh, certainly." The priest now saw that there was something more in the +man's manner than lordly pride. As the Earl got again up on his car, the +priest turned his horse, and the two travelled back through the village +without further conversation. The priest's horse was given up to the boy +in the yard, and he then led the way into the house. "We are not much +altered in our ways, are we, my Lord?" he said as he moved a bottle of +whiskey that stood on the sideboard. "Shall I offer you lunch?" + +"No, thank you, Father Marty;--nothing, thank you." Then he made a gasp +and began. The bad hour had arrived, and it must be endured. "I have +come back, as you see, Father Marty. That was a matter of course." + +"Well, yes, my Lord. As things have gone it was a matter of course." + +"I am here. I came as soon as it was possible that I should come. Of +course it was necessary that I should remain at home for some days after +what has occurred at Scroope." + +"No doubt;--no doubt. But you will not be angry with me for saying that +after what has occurred here, your presence has been most anxiously +expected. However here you are, and all may yet be well. As God's +minister I ought perhaps to upbraid. But I am not given to much +upbraiding, and I love that dear and innocent young face too well to +desire anything now but that the owner of it should receive at your +hands that which is due to her before God and man." + +He perceived that the priest knew it all. But how could he wonder at +this when that which ought to have been her secret and his had become +known even to Lady Mary Quin? And he understood well what the priest +meant when he spoke of that which was due to Kate O'Hara before God +and man; and he could perceive, or thought that he perceived, that the +priest did not doubt of the coming marriage, now that he, the victim, +was again back in the west of Ireland. And was he not the victim of a +scheme? Had he not been allured on to make promises to the girl which +he would not have made had the truth been told him as to her father? +He would not even in his thoughts accuse Kate,--his Kate,--of being +a participator in these schemes. But Mrs. O'Hara and the priest had +certainly intrigued against him. He must remember that. In the terrible +task which he was now compelled to begin he must build his defence +chiefly upon that. Yes; he must begin his work, now, upon the instant. +With all his golden prospects,--with all his golden honours already in +his possession,--he could wish himself dead rather than begin it. But he +could not die and have done it. "Father. Marty," he said, "I cannot make +Miss O'Hara Countess of Scroope." + +"Not make her Countess of Scroope! What will you make her then?" + +"As to that, I am here to discuss it with you." + +"What is it you main, sir? Afther you have had your will of her, and +polluted her sweet innocence, you will not make her your wife! You +cannot look me in the face, Mr. Neville, and tell me that." + +There the priest was right. The young Earl could not look him in the +face as he stammered out his explanation and proposal. The burly, strong +old man stood perfectly still and silent as he, with hesitating and +ill-arranged words, tried to gloze over and make endurable his past +conduct and intentions as to the future. He still held some confused +idea as to a form of marriage which should for all his life bind him +to the woman, but which should give her no claim to the title, and her +child no claim either to the title or the property. "You should have +told me of this Captain O'Hara," he said, as with many half-formed +sentences he completed his suggestions. + +"And it's on me you are throwing the blame?" + +"You should have told me, Father Marty." + +"By the great God above me, I did not believe that a man could be such +a villain! As I look for glory I did not think it possible! I should +have tould you! Neither did I nor did Mistress O'Hara know or believe +that the man was alive. And what has the man to do with it? Is she vile +because he has been guilty? Is she other than you knew her to be when +you first took her to your bosom, because of his sin?" + +"It does make a difference, Mr. Marty." + +"Afther what you have done it can make no difference. When you swore to +her that she should be your wife, and conquered her by so swearing, was +there any clause in your contract that you were not to be bound if you +found aught displaising to you in her parentage?" + +"I ought to have known it all." + +"You knew all that she knew;--all that I knew. You knew all that her +mother knew. No, Lord Scroope. It cannot be that you should be so +unutterably a villain. You are your own masther. Unsay what you have +said to me, and her ears shall never be wounded or her heart broken by +a hint of it." + +"I cannot make her Countess of Scroope. You are a priest, and can use +what words you please to me;--but I cannot make her Countess of +Scroope." + +"Faith,--and there will be more than words used, my young lord. As to +your plot of a counterfeit marriage,--" + +"I said nothing of a counterfeit marriage." + +"What was it you said, then? I say you did. You proposed to me,--to me a +priest of God's altar,--a false counterfeit marriage, so that those two +poor women, who you are afraid to face, might be cajoled and chaited and +ruined." + +"I am going to face them instantly." + +"Then must your heart be made of very stone. Shall I tell you the +consequences?" Then the priest paused awhile, and the young man, +bursting into tears, hid his face against the wall. "I will tell you the +consequences, Lord Scroope. They will die. The shame and sorrow which +you have brought on them, will bring them to their graves,--and so there +will be an end of their throubles upon earth. But while I live there +shall be no rest for the sole of your foot. I am ould, and may soon +be below the sod, but I will lave it as a legacy behind me that your +iniquity shall be proclaimed and made known in high places. While I live +I will follow you, and when I am gone there shall be another to take +the work. My curse shall rest on you,--the curse of a man of God, and +you shall be accursed. Now, if it suits you, you can go up to them at +Ardkill and tell them your story. She is waiting to receive her lover. +You can go to her, and stab her to the heart at once. Go, sir! Unless +you can change all this and alter your heart even as you hear my words, +you are unfit to find shelter beneath my roof." + +Having so spoken, waiting to see the effect of his indignation, the +priest went out, and got upon his horse, and went away upon his journey. +The young lord knew that he had been insulted, was aware that words had +been said to him so severe that one man, in his rank of life, rarely +utters them to another; and he had stood the while with his face turned +to the wall speechless and sobbing! The priest had gone, telling him +to leave the house because his presence disgraced it; and he had made +no answer. Yet he was the Earl of Scroope,--the thirteenth Earl of +Scroope,--a man in his own country full of honours. Why had he come +there to be called a villain? And why was the world so hard upon him +that on hearing himself so called he could only weep like a girl? Had he +done worse than other men? Was he not willing to make any retribution +for his fault,--except by doing that which he had been taught to think +would be a greater fault? As he left the house he tried to harden his +heart against Kate O'Hara. The priest had lied to him about her father. +They must have known that the man was alive. They had caught him among +them, and the priest's anger was a part of the net with which they had +intended to surround him. The stake for which they had played had been +very great. To be Countess of Scroope was indeed a chance worth some +risk. Then, as he breasted the hill up towards the burial ground, he +tried to strengthen his courage by realizing the magnitude of his own +position. He bade himself remember that he was among people who were his +inferiors in rank, education, wealth, manners, religion and nationality. +He had committed an error. Of course he had been in fault. Did he wish +to escape the consequences of his own misdoing? Was not his presence +there so soon after the assumption of his family honours sufficient +evidence of his generous admission of the claims to which he was +subject? Had he not offered to sacrifice himself as no other man would +have done? But they were still playing for the high stakes. They +were determined that the girl should be Countess of Scroope. He was +determined that she should not be Countess of Scroope. He was still +willing to sacrifice himself, but his family honours he would not +pollute. + +And then as he made his way past the burial ground and on towards the +cliff there crept over him a feeling as to the girl very different from +that reverential love which he had bestowed upon her when she was still +pure. He remembered the poorness of her raiment, the meekness of her +language, the small range of her ideas. The sweet soft coaxing loving +smile, which had once been so dear to him, was infantine and ignoble. +She was a plaything for an idle hour, not a woman to be taken out into +the world with the high name of Countess of Scroope. + +All this was the antagonism in his own heart against the indignant words +which the priest had spoken to him. For a moment he was so overcome +that he had burst into tears. But not on that account would he be beaten +away from his decision. The priest had called him a villain and had +threatened and cursed him! As to the villainy he had already made up +his mind which way his duty lay. For the threats it did not become him +to count them as anything. The curses were the result of the man's +barbarous religion. He remembered that he was the Earl of Scroope, and +so remembering summoned up his courage as he walked on to the cottage. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +AT ARDKILL. + + +Sharp eyes had watched for the young lord's approach. As he came near to +the cottage the door was opened and Kate O'Hara rushed out to meet him. +Though his mind was turned against her,--was turned against her as hard +and fast as all his false reasonings had been able to make it,--he could +not but accord to her the reception of a lover. She was in his arms and +he could not but press her close to his bosom. Her face was held up +to his, and of course he covered it with kisses. She murmured to him +sweet warm words of passionate love, and he could not but answer with +endearing names. "I am your own,--am I not?" she said as she still clung +to him. "All my own," he whispered as he tightened his arm round her +waist. + +Then he asked after Mrs. O'Hara. "Yes; mother is there. She will be +almost as glad to see you as I am. Nobody can be quite so glad. Oh +Fred,--my darling Fred,--am I still to call you Fred?" + +"What else, my pet?" + +"I was thinking whether I would call you--my Lord." + +"For heaven's sake do not." + +"No. You shall be Fred,--my Fred; Fred to me, though all the world +besides may call you grand names." Then again she held up her face to +him and pressed the hand that was round her waist closer to her girdle. +To have him once more with her,--this was to taste all the joys of +heaven while she was still on earth. + +They entered the sitting-room together and met Mrs. O'Hara close to the +door. "My Lord," she said, "you are very welcome back to us. Indeed we +need you much. I will not upbraid you as you come to make atonement for +your fault. If you will let me I will love you as a son." As she spoke +she held his right hand in both of hers, and then she lifted up her face +and kissed his cheek. + +He could not stay her words, nor could he refuse the kiss. And yet to +him the kiss was as the kiss of Judas, and the words were false words, +plotted words, pre-arranged, so that after hearing them there should be +no escape for him. But he would escape. He resolved again, even then, +that he would escape; but he could not answer her words at the moment. +Though Mrs. O'Hara held him by the hand, Kate still hung to his other +arm. He could not thrust her away from him. She still clung to him when +he released his right hand, and almost lay upon his breast when he +seated himself on the sofa. She looked into his eyes for tenderness, and +he could not refrain himself from bestowing upon her the happiness. "Oh, +mother," she said, "he is so brown;--but he is handsomer than ever." But +though he smiled on her, giving back into her eyes her own soft look of +love, yet he must tell his tale. + +He was still minded that she should have all but the one thing,--all +if she would take it. She should not be Countess of Scroope; but in +any other respect he would pay what penalty might be required for his +transgression. But in what words should he explain this to those two +women? Mrs. O'Hara had called him by his title and had claimed him as +her son. No doubt she had all the right to do so which promises made by +himself could give her. He had sworn that he would marry the girl, and +in point of time had only limited his promise by the old Earl's life. +The old Earl was dead, and he stood pledged to the immediate performance +of his vow,--doubly pledged if he were at all solicitous for the honour +of his future bride. But in spite of all promises she should never be +Countess of Scroope! + +Some tinkling false-tongued phrase as to lover's oaths had once passed +across his memory and had then sufficed to give him a grain of comfort. +There was no comfort to be found in it now. He began to tell himself, +in spite of his manhood, that it might have been better for him and for +them that he should have broken this matter to them by a well-chosen +messenger. But it was too late for that now. He had faced the priest and +had escaped from him with the degradation of a few tears. Now he was in +the presence of the lioness and her young. The lioness had claimed him +as a denizen of the forest; and, would he yield to her, she no doubt +would be very tender to him. But, as he was resolved not to yield, he +began to find that he had been wrong to enter her den. As he looked at +her, knowing that she was at this moment softened by false hopes, he +could nevertheless see in her eye the wrath of the wild animal. How was +he to begin to make his purpose known to them. + +"And now you must tell us everything," said Kate, still encircled by his +arm. + +"What must I tell you?" + +"You will give up the regiment at once?" + +"I have done so already." + +"But you must not give up Ardkill;--must he, mother?" + +"He may give it up when he takes you from it, Kate." + +"But he will take you too, mother?" + +The lioness at any rate wanted nothing for herself. "No, love. I shall +remain here among my rocks, and shall be happy if I hear that you are +happy." + +"But you won't part us altogether,--will you, Fred?" + +"No, love." + +"I knew he wouldn't. And mother may come to your grand house and creep +into some pretty little corner there, where I can go and visit her, and +tell her that she shall always be my own, own, own darling mother." + +He felt that he must put a stop to this in some way, though the doing +of it would be very dreadful. Indeed in the doing of it the whole of +his task would consist. But still he shirked it, and used his wit in +contriving an answer which might still deceive without being false in +words. "I think," said he, "that I shall never live at any grand house, +as you call it." + +"Not live at Scroope?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"I think not. It will hardly suit me." + +"I shall not regret it," said Kate. "I care nothing for a grand house. I +should only be afraid of it. I know it is dark and sombre, for you have +said so. Oh, Fred, any place will be Paradise to me, if I am there with +you." + +He felt that every moment of existence so continued was a renewed lie. +She was lying in his arms, in her mother's presence, almost as his +acknowledged wife. And she was speaking of her future home as being +certainly his also. But what could he do? How could he begin to tell the +truth? His home should be her home, if she would come to him,--not as +his wife. That idea of some half-valid morganatic marriage had again +been dissipated by the rough reproaches of the priest, and could only be +used as a prelude to his viler proposal. And, though he loved the girl +after his fashion, he desired to wound her by no such vile proposal. He +did not wish to live a life of sin, if such life might be avoided. If he +made his proposal, it would be but for her sake; or rather that he might +show her that he did not wish to cast her aside. It was by asserting to +himself that for her sake he would relinquish his own rank, were that +possible, that he attempted to relieve his own conscience. But, in the +mean time, she was in his arms talking about their joint future home! +"Where do you think of living?" asked Mrs. O'Hara in a tone which shewed +plainly the anxiety with which she asked the question. + +"Probably abroad," he said. + +"But mother may go with us?" The girl felt that the tension of his arm +was relaxed, and she knew that all was not well with him. And if there +was ought amiss with him, how much more must it be amiss with her? "What +is it, Fred?" she said. "There is some secret. Will you not tell it +to me?" Then she whispered into his ear words intended for him alone, +though her mother heard them. "If there be a secret you should tell it +me now. Think how it is with me. Your words are life and death to me +now." He still held her with loosened arms but did not answer her. He +sat, looking out into the middle of the room with fixed eyes, and he +felt that drops of perspiration were on his brow. And he knew that the +other woman was glaring at him with the eyes of an injured lioness, +though he did not dare to turn his own to her face. "Fred, tell me; tell +me." And Kate rose up, with her knees upon the sofa, bending over him, +gazing into his countenance and imploring him. + +"There must be disappointment," he said; and he did not know the sound +of his own voice. + +"What disappointment? Speak to me. What disappointment?" + +"Disappointment!" shrieked the mother. "How disappointment? There shall +be no disappointment." Rising from her chair, she hurried across the +room, and took her girl from his arms. "Lord Scroope, tell us what you +mean. I say there shall be no disappointment. Sit away from him, Kate, +till he has told us what it is." Then they heard the sound of a horse's +foot passing close to the window, and they all knew that it was the +priest. "There is Father Marty," said Mrs. O'Hara. "He shall make you +tell it." + +"I have already told him." Lord Scroope as he said this rose and moved +towards the door; but he himself was almost unconscious of the movement. +Some idea probably crossed his mind that he would meet the priest, but +Mrs. O'Hara thought that he intended to escape from them. + +She rushed between him and the door and held him with both her hands. +"No; no; you do not leave us in that way, though you were twice an +Earl." + +"I am not thinking of leaving you." + +"Mother, you shall not hurt him; you shall not insult him," said the +girl. "He does not mean to harm me. He is my own, and no one shall touch +him." + +"Certainly I will not harm you. Here is Father Marty. Mrs. O'Hara you +had better be tranquil. You should remember that you have heard nothing +yet of what I would say to you." + +"Whose fault is that? Why do you not speak? Father Marty, what does he +mean when he tells my girl that there must be disappointment for her? +Does he dare to tell me that he hesitates to make her his wife?" + +The priest took the mother by the hand and placed her on the chair in +which she usually sat. Then, almost without a word, he led Kate from the +room to her own chamber, and bade her wait a minute till he should come +back to her. Then he returned to the sitting-room and at once addressed +himself to Lord Scroope. "Have you dared," he said, "to tell them what +you hardly dared to tell to me?" + +"He has dared to tell us nothing," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"I do not wonder at it. I do not think that any man could say to her +that which he told me that he would do." + +"Mrs. O'Hara," said the young lord, with some return of courage now +that the girl had left them, "that which I told Mr. Marty this morning, +I will now tell to you. For your daughter I will do anything that you +and she and he may wish,--but one thing. I cannot make her Countess of +Scroope." + +"You must make her your wife," said the woman, shouting at him. + +"I will do so to-morrow if a way can be found by which she shall not +become Countess of Scroope." + +"That is, he will marry her without making her his wife," said the +priest. "He will jump over a broomstick with her and will ask me to help +him,--so that your feelings and hers may be spared for a week or so. +Mrs. O'Hara, he is a villain,--a vile, heartless, cowardly reprobate, so +low in the scale of humanity that I degrade myself by spaking to him. He +calls himself an English peer! Peer to what? Certainly to no one worthy +to be called a man!" So speaking, the priest addressed himself to Mrs. +O'Hara, but as he spoke his eyes were fixed full on the face of the +young lord. + +"I will have his heart out of his body," exclaimed Mrs. O'Hara. + +"Heart;--he has no heart. You may touch his pocket;--or his pride, +what he calls his pride, a damnable devilish inhuman vanity; or his +name,--that bugbear of a title by which he trusts to cover his baseness; +or his skin, for he is a coward. Do you see his cheek now? But as for +his heart,--you cannot get at that." + +"I will get at his life," said the woman. + +"Mr. Marty, you allow yourself a liberty of speech which even your +priesthood will not warrant." + +"Lay a hand upon me if you can. There is not blood enough about you to +do it. Were it not that the poor child has been wake and too trusting, I +would bid her spit on you rather than take you for her husband." Then he +paused, but only for a moment. "Sir, you must marry her, and there must +be an end of it. In no other way can you be allowed to live." + +"Would you murder me?" + +"I would crush you like an insect beneath my nail. Murder you! Have you +thought what murder is;--that there are more ways of murder than one? +Have you thought of the life of that young girl who now bears in her +womb the fruit of your body? Would you murder her,--because she loved +you, and trusted you, and gave you all simply because you asked her; and +then think of your own life? As the God of Heaven is above me, and sees +me now, and the Saviour in whose blood I trust, I would lay down my life +this instant, if I could save her from your heartlessness." So saying he +too turned away his face and wept like a child. + +After this the priest was gentler in his manner to the young man, and +it almost seemed as though the Earl was driven from his decision. He +ceased, at any rate, to assert that Kate should never be Countess of +Scroope, and allowed both the mother and Father Marty to fall into a +state of doubt as to what his last resolve might be. It was decided that +he should go down to Ennistimon and sleep upon it. On the morrow he +would come up again, and in the meantime he would see Father Marty at +the inn. There were many prayers addressed to him both by the mother and +the priest, and such arguments used that he had been almost shaken. "But +you will come to-morrow?" said the mother, looking at the priest as she +spoke. + +"I will certainly come to-morrow." + +"No doubt he will come to-morrow," said Father Marty,--who intended +to imply that if Lord Scroope escaped out of Ennistimon without his +knowledge, he would be very much surprised. + +"Shall I not say a word to Kate?" the Earl asked as he was going. + +"Not till you are prepared to tell her that she shall be your wife," +said the priest. + +But this was a matter as to which Kate herself had a word to say. When +they were in the passage she came out from her room, and again rushed +into her lover's arms. "Oh, Fred, let me told,--let me told. I will go +with you anywhere if you will take me." + +"He is to come up to-morrow, Kate," said her mother. + +"He will be here early to-morrow, and everything shall be settled then," +said the priest, trying to assume a happy and contented tone. + +"Dearest Kate, I will be here by noon," said Lord Scroope, returning the +girl's caresses. + +"And you will not desert me?" + +"No, darling, no." And then he went, leaving the priest behind him at +the cottage. + +Father Marty was to be with him at the inn by eight, and then the whole +matter must be again discussed. He felt that he had been very weak, that +he had made no use,--almost no use at all,--of the damning fact of the +Captain's existence. He had allowed the priest to talk him down in every +argument, and had been actually awed by the girl's mother, and yet he +was determined that he would not yield. He felt more strongly than ever, +now that he had again seen Kate O'Hara, that it would not be right that +such a one as she should be made Countess of Scroope. Not only would she +disgrace the place, but she would be unhappy in it, and would shame him. +After all the promises that he had made he could not, and he would not, +take her to Scroope as his wife. How could she hold up her head before +such women as Sophie Mellerby and others like her? It would be known by +all his friends that he had been taken in and swindled by low people +in the County Clare, and he would be regarded by all around him as +one who had absolutely ruined himself. He had positively resolved that +she should not be Countess of Scroope, and to that resolution he would +adhere. The foul-mouthed priest had called him a coward, but he would +be no coward. The mother had said that she would have his life. If +there were danger in that respect he must encounter it. As he returned +to Ennistimon he again determined that Kate O'Hara should never become +Countess of Scroope. + +For three hours Father Marty remained with him that night, but did not +shake him. He had now become accustomed to the priest's wrath and could +endure it. And he thought also that he could now endure the mother. The +tears of the girl and her reproaches he still did fear. + +"I will do anything that you can dictate short of that," he said again +to Father Marty. + +"Anything but the one thing that you have sworn to do?" + +"Anything but the one thing that I have sworn not to do." For he had +told the priest of the promises he had made both to his uncle and to his +uncle's widow. + +"Then," said the priest, as he crammed his hat on his head, and shook +the dust off his feet, "if I were you I would not go to Ardkill +to-morrow if I valued my life." Nevertheless Father Marty slept at +Ennistimon that night, and was prepared to bar the way if any attempt +at escape were made. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +ON THE CLIFFS. + + +No attempt at escape was made. The Earl breakfasted by himself at about +nine, and then lighting a cigar, roamed about for a while round the Inn, +thinking of the work that was now before him. He saw nothing of Father +Marty though he knew that the priest was still in Ennistimon. And he +felt that he was watched. They might have saved themselves that trouble, +for he certainly had no intention of breaking his word to them. So he +told himself, thinking as he did so, that people such as these could +not understand that an Earl of Scroope would not be untrue to his word. +And yet since he had been back in County Clare he had almost regretted +that he had not broken his faith to them and remained in England. +At half-past ten he started on a car, having promised to be at the +cottage at noon, and he told his servant that he should certainly leave +Ennistimon that day at three. The horse and gig were to be ready for him +exactly at that hour. + +On this occasion he did not go through Liscannor, but took the other +road to the burial ground. There he left his car and slowly walked +along the cliffs till he came to the path leading down from them to the +cottage. In doing this he went somewhat out of his way, but he had time +on his hands and he did not desire to be at the cottage before the hour +he had named. It was a hot midsummer day, and there seemed to be hardly +a ripple on the waves. The tide was full in, and he sat for a while +looking down upon the blue waters. What an ass had he made himself, +coming thither in quest of adventures! He began to see now the meaning +of such idleness of purpose as that to which he had looked for pleasure +and excitement. Even the ocean itself and the very rocks had lost their +charm for him. It was all one blaze of blue light, the sky above and +the water below, in which there was neither beauty nor variety. How +poor had been the life he had chosen! He had spent hour after hour in a +comfortless dirty boat, in company with a wretched ignorant creature, in +order that he might shoot a few birds and possibly a seal. All the world +had been open to him, and yet how miserable had been his ambition! And +now he could see no way out of the ruin he had brought upon himself. + +When the time had come he rose from his seat and took the path down to +the cottage. At the corner of the little patch of garden ground attached +to it he met Mrs. O'Hara. Her hat was on her head, and a light shawl +was on her shoulders as though she had prepared herself for walking. +He immediately asked after Kate. She told him that Kate was within and +should see him presently. Would it not be better that they two should go +up on the cliffs together, and then say what might be necessary for the +mutual understanding of their purposes? "There should be no talking of +all this before Kate," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"That is true." + +"You can imagine what she must feel if she is told to doubt. Lord +Scroope, will you not say at once that there shall be no doubt? You must +not ruin my child in return for her love!" + +"If there must be ruin I would sooner bear it myself," said he. And then +they walked on without further speech till they had reached a point +somewhat to the right, and higher than that on which he had sat before. +It had ever been a favourite spot with her, and he had often sat there +between the mother and daughter. It was almost the summit of the cliff, +but there was yet a higher pitch which screened it from the north, so +that the force of the wind was broken. The fall from it was almost +precipitous to the ocean, so that the face of the rocks immediately +below was not in view; but there was a curve here in the line of the +shore, and a little bay in the coast, which exposed to view the whole +side of the opposite cliff, so that the varying colours of the rocks +might be seen. The two ladies had made a seat upon the turf, by moving +the loose stones and levelling the earth around, so that they could sit +securely on the very edge. Many many hours had Mrs. O'Hara passed upon +the spot, both summer and winter, watching the sunset in the west, and +listening to the screams of the birds. "There are no gulls now," she +said as she seated herself,--as though for a moment she had forgotten +the great subject which filled her mind. + +"No;--they never show themselves in weather like this. They only come +when the wind blows. I wonder where they go when the sun shines." + +"They are just the opposite to men and women who only come around you +in fine weather. How hot it is!" and she threw her shawl back from her +shoulders. + +"Yes, indeed. I walked up from the burial ground and I found that it was +very hot. Have you seen Father Marty this morning?" + +"No. Have you?" she asked the question turning upon him very shortly. + +"Not to-day. He was with me till late last night." + +"Well." He did not answer her. He had nothing to say to her. In fact +everything had been said yesterday. If she had questions to ask he would +answer them. "What did you settle last night? When he went from me an +hour after you were gone, he said that it was impossible that you should +mean to destroy her." + +"God forbid that I should destroy her." + +"He said that,--that you were afraid of her father." + +"I am." + +"And of me." + +"No;--not of you, Mrs. O'Hara." + +"Listen to me. He said that such a one as you cannot endure the presence +of an uneducated and ill-mannered mother-in-law. Do not interrupt me, +Lord Scroope. If you will marry her, my girl shall never see my face +again; and I will cling to that man and will not leave him for a moment, +so that he shall never put his foot near your door. Our name shall never +be spoken in your hearing. She shall never even write to me if you think +it better that we shall be so separated." + +"It is not that," he said. + +"What is it, then?" + +"Oh, Mrs. O'Hara, you do not understand. You,--you I could love dearly." + +"I would have you keep all your love for her." + +"I do love her. She is good enough for me. She is too good; and so are +you. It is for the family, and not for myself." + +"How will she harm the family?" + +"I swore to my uncle that I would not make her Countess of Scroope." + +"And have you not sworn to her again and again that she should be your +wife? Do you think that she would have done for you what she has done, +had you not so sworn? Lord Scroope, I cannot think that you really mean +it." She put both her hands softly upon his arm and looked up to him +imploring his mercy. + +He got up from his seat and roamed along the cliff, and she followed +him, still imploring. Her tones were soft, and her words were the +words of a suppliant. Would he not relent and save her child from +wretchedness, from ruin and from death. "I will keep her with me till +I die," he said. + +"But not as your wife?" + +"She shall have all attention from me,--everything that a woman's heart +can desire. You two shall be never separated." + +"But not as your wife?" + +"I will live where she and you may please. She shall want nothing that +my wife would possess." + +"But not as your wife?" + +"Not as Countess of Scroope." + +"You would have her as your mistress, then?" As she asked this question +the tone of her voice was altogether altered, and the threatening +lion-look had returned to her eyes. They were now near the seat, +confronted to each other; and the fury of her bosom, which for a while +had been dominated by the tenderness of the love for her daughter, was +again raging within her. Was it possible that he should be able to treat +them thus,--that he should break his word and go from them scathless, +happy, joyous, with all the delights of the world before him, leaving +them crushed into dust beneath his feet. She had been called upon from +her youth upwards to bear injustice,--but of all injustice surely this +would be the worst. "As your mistress," she repeated,--"and I her +mother, am to stand by and see it, and know that my girl is dishonoured! +Would your mother have borne that for your sister? How would it be if +your sister were as that girl is now?" + +"I have no sister." + +"And therefore you are thus hard-hearted. She shall never be your +harlot;--never. I would myself sooner take from her the life I gave her. +You have destroyed her, but she shall never be a thing so low as that." + +"I will marry her,--in a foreign land." + +"And why not here? She is as good as you. Why should she not bear the +name you are so proud of dinning into our ears? Why should she not be a +Countess? Has she ever disgraced herself? If she is disgraced in your +eyes you must be a Devil." + +"It is not that," he said hoarsely. + +"What is it? What has she done that she should be thus punished? Tell +me, man, that she shall be your lawful wife." As she said this she +caught him roughly by the collar of his coat and shook him with her arm. + +"It cannot be so," said the Earl Of Scroope. + +"It cannot be so! But I say it shall,--or,--or--! What are you, that +she should be in your hands like this? Say that she shall be your wife, +or you shall never live to speak to another woman." The peril of his +position on the top of the cliff had not occurred to him;--nor did it +occur to him now. He had been there so often that the place gave him no +sense of danger. Nor had that peril,--as it was thought afterwards by +those who most closely made inquiry on the matter,--ever occurred to +her. She had not brought him there that she might frighten him with +that danger, or that she might avenge herself by the power which it gave +her. But now the idea flashed across her maddened mind. "Miscreant," she +said. And she bore him back to the very edge of the precipice. + +"You'll have me over the cliff," he exclaimed hardly even yet putting +out his strength against her. + +"And so I will, by the help of God. Now think of her! Now think of her!" +And as she spoke she pressed him backwards towards his fall. He had +power enough to bend his knee, and to crouch beneath her grasp on to the +loose crumbling soil of the margin of the rocks. He still held her by +her cuff and it seemed for a moment as though she must go with him. But, +on a sudden, she spurned him with her foot on the breast, the rag of +cloth parted in his hand, and the poor wretch tumbled forth alone into +eternity. + +That was the end of Frederic Neville, Earl of Scroope, and the end, too, +of all that poor girl's hopes in this world. When you stretch yourself +on the edge of those cliffs and look down over the abyss on the sea +below it seems as though the rocks were so absolutely perpendicular, +that a stone dropped with an extended hand would fall amidst the waves. +But in such measurement the eye deceives itself, for the rocks in truth +slant down; and the young man, as he fell, struck them again and again; +and at last it was a broken mangled corpse that reached the blue waters +below. + +Her Kate was at last avenged. The woman stood there in her solitude for +some minutes thinking of the thing she had done. The man had injured +her,--sorely,--and she had punished him. He had richly deserved the +death which he had received from her hands. In these minutes, as +regarded him, there was no remorse. But how should she tell the news +to her child? The blow which had thrust him over would, too probably, +destroy other life than his. Would it not be better that her girl should +so die? What could prolonged life give her that would be worth her +having? As for herself,--in these first moments of her awe she took no +thought of her own danger. It did not occur to her that she might tell +how the man had ventured too near the edge and had fallen by mischance. +As regarded herself she was proud of the thing she had accomplished; but +how should she tell her child that it was done? + +She slowly took the path, not to the cottage, but down towards the +burial ground and Liscannor, passing the car which was waiting in vain +for the young lord. On she walked with rapid step, indifferent to the +heat, still proud of what she had done,--raging with a maddened pride. +How little had they two asked of the world! And then this man had come +to them and robbed them of all that little, had spoiled them ruthlessly, +cheating them with lies, and then excusing himself by the grandeur of +his blood! During that walk it was that she first repeated to herself +the words that were ever afterwards on her tongue; An Eye for an Eye. +Was not that justice? And, had she not taken the eye herself, would any +Court in the world have given it to her? Yes;--an eye for an eye! Death +in return for ruin! One destruction for another! The punishment had been +just. An eye for an eye! Let the Courts of the world now say what they +pleased, they could not return to his earldom the man who had plundered +and spoiled her child. He had sworn that he would not make her Kate +Countess of Scroope! Nor should he make any other woman a Countess! + +Rapidly she went down by the burying ground, and into the priest's +house. Father Marty was there, and she stalked at once into his +presence. "Ha;--Mrs. O'Hara! And where is Lord Scroope?" + +"There," she said, pointing out towards the ocean. "Under the rocks!" + +"He has fallen!" + +"I thrust him down with my hands and with my feet." As she said this, +she used her hand and her foot as though she were now using her strength +to push the man over the edge. "Yes, I thrust him down, and he fell +splashing into the waves. I heard it as his body struck the water. He +will shoot no more of the sea-gulls now." + +"You do not mean that you have murdered him?" + +"You may call it murder if you please, Father Marty. An eye for an eye, +Father Marty! It is justice, and I have done it. An Eye for an Eye!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CONCLUSION. + + +The story of the poor mad woman who still proclaims in her seclusion the +justice of the deed which she did, has now been told. It may perhaps be +well to collect the scattered ends of the threads of the tale for the +benefit of readers who desire to know the whole of a history. + +Mrs. O'Hara never returned to the cottage on the cliffs after the +perpetration of the deed. On the unhappy priest devolved the duty of +doing whatever must be done. The police at the neighbouring barracks +were told that the young lord had perished by a fall from the cliffs, +and by them search was made for the body. No real attempt was set on +foot to screen the woman who had done the deed by any concealment of the +facts. She herself was not alive to the necessity of making any such +attempt. "An eye for an eye!" she said to the head-constable when the +man interrogated her. It soon became known to all Liscannor, to +Ennistimon, to the ladies at Castle Quin, and to all the barony of +Corcomroe that Mrs. O'Hara had thrust the Earl of Scroope over the +cliffs of Moher, and that she was now detained at the house of Father +Marty in the custody of a policeman. Before the day was over it was +declared also that she was mad,--and that her daughter was dying. + +The deed which the woman had done and the death of the young lord were +both terrible to Father Marty; but there was a duty thrown upon him more +awful to his mind even than these. Kate O'Hara, when her mother +appeared at the priest's house, had been alone at the cottage. By +degrees Father Marty learned from the wretched woman something of the +circumstances of that morning's work. Kate had not seen her lover that +day, but had been left in the cottage while her mother went out to meet +the man, and if possible to persuade him to do her child justice. The +priest understood that she would be waiting for them,--or more probably +searching for them on the cliffs. He got upon his horse and rode up the +hill with a heavy heart. What should he tell her; and how should he tell +it? + +Before he reached the cottage she came running down the hillside to him. +"Father Marty, where is mother? Where is Mr. Neville? You know. I see +that you know. Where are they?" He got off his horse and put his arm +round her body and seated her beside himself on the rising bank by the +wayside. "Why don't you speak?" she said. + +"I cannot speak," he murmured. "I cannot tell you." + +"Is he--dead?" He only buried his face in his hands. "She has killed +him! Mother--mother!" Then, with one loud long wailing shriek, she fell +upon the ground. + +Not for a month after that did she know anything of what happened around +her. But yet it seemed that during that time her mind had not been +altogether vacant, for when she awoke to self-consciousness, she knew at +least that her lover was dead. She had been taken into Ennistimon and +there, under the priest's care, had been tended with infinite +solicitude; but almost with a hope on his part that nature might give +way and that she might die. Overwhelmed as she was with sorrows past and +to come would it not be better for her that she should go hence and be +no more seen? But as Death cannot be barred from the door when he knocks +at it, so neither can he be made to come as a guest when summoned. She +still lived, though life had so little to offer to her. + +But Mrs. O'Hara never saw her child again. With passionate entreaties +she begged of the police that her girl might be brought to her, that she +might be allowed if it were only to see her face or to touch her hand. +Her entreaties to the priest, who was constant in his attendance upon +her in the prison to which she was removed from his house, were +piteous,--almost heartbreaking. But the poor girl, though she was meek, +silent, and almost apathetic in her tranquillity, could not even bear +the mention of her mother's name. Her mother had destroyed the father of +the child that was to be born to her, her lover, her hero, her god; and +in her remembrance of the man who had betrayed her, she learned to +execrate the mother who had sacrificed everything,--her very reason,--in +avenging the wrongs of her child! + +Mrs. O'Hara was taken away from the priest's house to the County Gaol, +but was then in a condition of acknowledged insanity. That she had +committed the murder no one who heard the story doubted, but of her +guilt there was no evidence whatever beyond the random confession of a +maniac. No detailed confession was ever made by her. "An eye for an +eye," she would say when interrogated,--"Is not that justice? A tooth +for a tooth!" Though she was for a while detained in prison it was +impossible to prosecute her,--even with a view to an acquittal on the +ground of insanity; and while the question was under discussion among +the lawyers, provision for her care and maintenance came from another +source. + +As also it did for the poor girl. For a while everything was done for +her under the care of Father Marty;--but there was another Earl of +Scroope in the world, and as soon as the story was known to him and the +circumstances had been made clear, he came forward to offer on behalf of +the family whatever assistance might now avail them anything. As months +rolled on the time of Kate O'Hara's further probation came, but Fate +spared her the burden and despair of a living infant. It was at last +thought better that she should go to her father and live in France with +him, reprobate though the man was. The priest offered to find a home for +her in his own house at Liscannor; but, as he said himself, he was an +old man, and one who when he went would leave no home behind him. And +then it was felt that the close vicinity of the spot on which her lover +had perished would produce a continued melancholy that might crush her +spirits utterly. Captain O'Hara therefore was desired to come and fetch +his child,--and he did so, with many protestations of virtue for the +future. If actual pecuniary comfort can conduce to virtue in such a man, +a chance was given him. The Earl of Scroope was only too liberal in the +settlement he made. But the settlement was on the daughter and not on +the father; and it is possible therefore that some gentle restraint may +have served to keep him out of the deep abysses of wickedness. + +The effects of the tragedy on the coast of Clare spread beyond Ireland, +and drove another woman to the verge of insanity. When the Countess of +Scroope heard the story, she shut herself up at Scroope and would see no +one but her own servants. When the succeeding Earl came to the house +which was now his own, she refused to admit him into her presence, and +declined even a renewed visit from Miss Mellerby who at that time had +returned to her father's roof. At last the clergyman of Scroope +prevailed, and to him she unburdened her soul,--acknowledging, with an +energy that went perhaps beyond the truth, the sin of her own conduct in +producing the catastrophe which had occurred. "I knew that he had +wronged her, and yet I bade him not to make her his wife." That was the +gist of her confession and she declared that the young man's blood would +be on her hands till she died. A small cottage was prepared for her on +the estate, and there she lived in absolute seclusion till death +relieved her from her sorrows. + +And she lived not only in seclusion, but in solitude almost to her +death. It was not till four years after the occurrences which have been +here related that John fourteenth Earl of Scroope brought a bride home +to Scroope Manor. The reader need hardly be told that that bride was +Sophie Mellerby. When the young Countess came to live at the Manor the +old Countess admitted her visits and at last found some consolation in +her friend's company. But it lasted not long, and then she was taken +away and buried beside her lord in the chancel of the parish church. + +When it was at last decided that the law should not interfere at all as +to the personal custody of the poor maniac who had sacrificed everything +to avenge her daughter, the Earl of Scroope selected for her comfort the +asylum in which she still continues to justify from morning to night, +and, alas, often all the night long, the terrible deed of which she is +ever thinking. "An eye for an eye," she says to the woman who watches +her. + +"Oh, yes, ma'am; certainly." + +"An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth! Is it not so? An eye for an +eye!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EYE FOR AN EYE*** + + +******* This file should be named 16804-8.txt or 16804-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/8/0/16804 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: An Eye for an Eye</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: October 6, 2005 [eBook #16804]<br /> +Most recently updated: January 25, 2017</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EYE FOR AN EYE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<table class="ed" border="0" cellpadding="10" +style="background-color: #ccccff;"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Editorial note: + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + This book is about the seduction of a young girl by the heir to an + earldom, the resulting illegitimate pregnancy, and the young nobleman's + struggle to decide whether to marry or to abandon the + girl—certainly not the usual content of Victorian novels.<br /> + <br /> + Trollope is believed to have written <i>An Eye for an Eye</i> in 1870, + but he did not publish it until the fall of 1878, when it appeared in + serial form in the <i>Whitehall Review</i>, followed by publication of + the entire book in 1879. The reason for delaying publication is unknown, + although Trollope might have been concerned about the book's reception + by the public, given its subject matter and the hostile reception in + 1853 of Elizabeth Gaskell's <i>Ruth</i>, which dealt with the same + subject. + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1>AN EYE FOR AN EYE</h1> + +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>Anthony Trollope</h2> +<p> </p> +<h4>1879</h4> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="2"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VOLUME I. </td> <td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-0" >INTRODUCTION</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-1" >SCROOPE MANOR</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-2" >FRED NEVILLE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-3" >SOPHIE MELLERBY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-4" >JACK NEVILLE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-5" >ARDKILL COTTAGE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-6" >I'LL GO BAIL SHE LIKES IT</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-7" >FATHER MARTY'S HOSPITALITY</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-8" >I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-9" >FRED NEVILLE RETURNS TO SCROOPE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-10">FRED NEVILLE'S SCHEME</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-11">THE WISDOM OF JACK NEVILLE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#1-12">FRED NEVILLE MAKES A PROMISE</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td align="right" valign="top"> </td> <td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VOLUME II. </td> <td align="left"> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-1" >FROM BAD TO WORSE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-2" >IS SHE TO BE YOUR WIFE?</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-3" >FRED NEVILLE RECEIVES A VISITOR<br />AT ENNIS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-4" >NEVILLE'S SUCCESS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-5" >FRED NEVILLE IS AGAIN CALLED HOME<br />TO SCROOPE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-6" >THE EARL OF SCROOPE IS IN TROUBLE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-7" >SANS REPROCHE</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-8" >LOOSE ABOUT THE WORLD</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-9" >AT LISCANNOR</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-10">AT ARDKILL</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-11">ON THE CLIFFS</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#2-12">CONCLUSION</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<p><a name="1-0"></a> </p> +<h2>Volume I.</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3><span class="smallcaps">Introduction.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>At a private asylum in the west of England there lives, and has lived +for some years past, an unfortunate lady, as to whom there has long +since ceased to be any hope that she should ever live elsewhere. Indeed, +there is no one left belonging to her by whom the indulgence of such a +hope on her behalf could be cherished. Friends she has none; and her own +condition is such, that she recks nothing of confinement and does not +even sigh for release. And yet her mind is ever at work,—as is +doubtless always the case with the insane. She has present to her, +apparently in every waking moment of her existence, an object of intense +interest, and at that she works with a constancy which never wearies +herself, however fatiguing it may be to those who are near her. She is +ever justifying some past action of her life. "An eye for an eye," she +says, "and a tooth for a tooth. Is it not the law?" And these words she +will repeat daily, almost from morn till night.</p> + +<p>It has been said that this poor lady has no friends. Friends who would +be anxious for her recovery, who would care to see her even in her +wretched condition, who might try to soothe her harassed heart with +words of love, she has none. Such is her condition now, and her +temperament, that it may be doubted whether any words of love, however +tender, could be efficacious with her. She is always demanding +justification, and as those who are around her never thwart her she has +probably all the solace which kindness could give her.</p> + +<p>But, though she has no friends—none who love her,—she has all the +material comfort which friendship or even love could supply. All that +money can do to lessen her misery, is done. The house in which she lives +is surrounded by soft lawns and secluded groves. It has been prepared +altogether for the wealthy, and is furnished with every luxury which it +may be within the power of a maniac to enjoy. This lady has her own +woman to attend her; and the woman, though stout and masterful, is +gentle in language and kind in treatment. "An eye for an eye, ma'am. Oh, +certainly. That is the law. An eye for an eye, no doubt." This formula +she will repeat a dozen times a day—ay, a dozen dozen times, till the +wonder is that she also should not be mad.</p> + +<p>The reader need not fear that he is to be asked to loiter within the +precincts of an asylum for the insane. Of this abode of wretchedness no +word more shall be said; but the story shall be told of the lady who +dwelt there,—the story of her life till madness placed her within those +walls. That story was known to none at the establishment but to him who +was its head. Others there, who were cognisant of the condition of the +various patients, only knew that from quarter to quarter the charges for +this poor lady's custody were defrayed by the Earl of Scroope.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-1"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter I.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Scroope Manor.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Some years ago, it matters not how many, the old Earl of Scroope lived +at Scroope Manor in Dorsetshire. The house was an Elizabethan structure +of some pretensions, but of no fame. It was not known to sight-seers, as +are so many of the residences of our nobility and country gentlemen. No +days in the week were appointed for visiting its glories, nor was the +housekeeper supposed to have a good thing in perquisites from showing +it. It was a large brick building facing on to the village +street,—facing the village, if the hall-door of a house be the main +characteristic of its face; but with a front on to its own grounds from +which opened the windows of the chief apartments. The village of Scroope +consisted of a straggling street a mile in length, with the church and +parsonage at one end, and the Manor-house almost at the other. But the +church stood within the park; and on that side of the street, for more +than half its length, the high, gloomy wall of the Earl's domain +stretched along in face of the publicans, bakers, grocers, two butchers, +and retired private residents whose almost contiguous houses made +Scroope itself seem to be more than a village to strangers. Close to the +Manor and again near to the church, some favoured few had been allowed +to build houses and to cultivate small gardens taken, as it were, in +notches out of the Manor grounds; but these tenements must have been +built at a time in which landowners were very much less jealous than +they are now of such encroachments from their humbler neighbours.</p> + +<p>The park itself was large, and the appendages to it such as were fit for +an Earl's establishment;—but there was little about it that was +attractive. The land lay flat, and the timber, which was very plentiful, +had not been made to group itself in picturesque forms. There was the +Manor wood, containing some five hundred acres, lying beyond the church +and far back from the road, intersected with so-called drives, which +were unfit for any wheels but those of timber waggons;—and round the +whole park there was a broad belt of trees. Here and there about the +large enclosed spaces there stood solitary oaks, in which the old Earl +took pride; but at Scroope Manor there was none of that finished +landscape beauty of which the owners of "places" in England are so +justly proud.</p> + +<p>The house was large, and the rooms were grand and spacious. There was an +enormous hall into one corner of which the front door opened. There was +a vast library filled with old books which no one ever touched,—huge +volumes of antiquated and now all but useless theology, and folio +editions of the least known classics,—such as men now never read. Not a +book had been added to it since the commencement of the century, and it +may almost be said that no book had been drawn from its shelves for real +use during the same period. There was a suite of rooms,—a salon with +two withdrawing rooms which now were never opened. The big dining-room +was used occasionally, as, in accordance with the traditions of the +family, dinner was served there whenever there were guests at the Manor. +Guests, indeed, at Scroope Manor were not very frequent;—but Lady +Scroope did occasionally have a friend or two to stay with her; and at +long intervals the country clergymen and neighbouring squires were +asked, with their wives, to dinner. When the Earl and his Countess were +alone they used a small breakfast parlour, and between this and the big +dining-room there was the little chamber in which the Countess usually +lived. The Earl's own room was at the back, or if the reader pleases, +front of the house, near the door leading into the street, and was, of +all rooms in the house, the gloomiest.</p> + +<p>The atmosphere of the whole place was gloomy. There were none of those +charms of modern creation which now make the mansions of the wealthy +among us bright and joyous. There was not a billiard table in the house. +There was no conservatory nearer than the large old-fashioned +greenhouse, which stood away by the kitchen garden and which seemed to +belong exclusively to the gardener. The papers on the walls were dark +and sombre. The mirrors were small and lustreless. The carpets were old +and dingy. The windows did not open on to the terrace. The furniture was +hardly ancient, but yet antiquated and uncomfortable. Throughout the +house, and indeed throughout the estate, there was sufficient evidence +of wealth; and there certainly was no evidence of parsimony; but at +Scroope Manor money seemed never to have produced luxury. The household +was very large. There was a butler, and a housekeeper, and various +footmen, and a cook with large wages, and maidens in tribes to wait upon +each other, and a colony of gardeners, and a coachman, and a head-groom, +and under-grooms. All these lived well under the old Earl, and knew the +value of their privileges. There was much to get, and almost nothing to +do. A servant might live for ever at Scroope Manor,—if only +sufficiently submissive to Mrs. Bunce the housekeeper. There was +certainly no parsimony at the Manor, but the luxurious living of the +household was confined to the servants' department.</p> + +<p>To a stranger, and perhaps also to the inmates, the idea of gloom about +the place was greatly increased by the absence of any garden or lawn +near the house. Immediately in front of the mansion, and between it and +the park, there ran two broad gravel terraces, one above another; and +below these the deer would come and browse. To the left of the house, at +nearly a quarter of a mile distant from it, there was a very large +garden indeed,—flower-gardens, and kitchen-gardens, and orchards; all +ugly, and old-fashioned, but producing excellent crops in their kind. +But they were away, and were not seen. Oat flowers were occasionally +brought into the house,—but the place was never filled with flowers as +country houses are filled with them now-a-days. No doubt had Lady +Scroope wished for more she might have had more.</p> + +<p>Scroope itself, though a large village, stood a good deal out of the +world. Within the last year or two a railway has been opened, with a +Scroope Road Station, not above three miles from the place; but in the +old lord's time it was eleven miles from its nearest station, at +Dorchester, with which it had communication once a day by an omnibus. +Unless a man had business with Scroope nothing would take him there; and +very few people had business with Scroope. Now and then a commercial +traveller would visit the place with but faint hopes as to trade. A +post-office inspector once in twelve months would call upon plethoric +old Mrs. Applejohn, who kept the small shop for stationery, and was +known as the postmistress. The two sons of the vicar, Mr. Greenmarsh, +would pass backwards and forwards between their father's vicarage and +Marlbro' school. And occasionally the men and women of Scroope would +make a journey to their county town. But the Earl was told that old Mrs. +Brock of the Scroope Arms could not keep the omnibus on the road unless +he would subscribe to aid it. Of course he subscribed. If he had been +told by his steward to subscribe to keep the cap on Mrs. Brock's head, +he would have done so. Twelve pounds a year his Lordship paid towards +the omnibus, and Scroope was not absolutely dissevered from the world.</p> + +<p>The Earl himself was never seen out of his own domain, except when he +attended church. This he did twice every Sunday in the year, the +coachman driving him there in the morning and the head-groom in the +afternoon. Throughout the household it was known to be the Earl's +request to his servants that they would attend divine service at least +once every Sunday. None were taken into service but they who were or who +called themselves members of the Church Establishment. It is hardly +probable that many dissenters threw away the chance of such promotion on +any frivolous pretext of religion. Beyond this request, which, coming +from the mouth of Mrs. Bunce, became very imperative, the Earl hardly +ever interfered with his domestics. His own valet had attended him for +the last thirty years; but, beyond his valet and the butler, he hardly +knew the face of one of them. There was a gamekeeper at Scroope Manor, +with two under-gamekeepers; and yet, for, some years, no one, except the +gamekeepers, had ever shot over the lands. Some partridges and a few +pheasants were, however, sent into the house when Mrs. Bunce, moved to +wrath, would speak her mind on that subject.</p> + +<p>The Earl of Scroope himself was a tall, thin man, something over seventy +at the time of which I will now begin to speak. His shoulders were much +bent, but otherwise he appeared to be younger than his age. His hair was +nearly white, but his eyes were still bright, and the handsome well-cut +features of his fine face were not reduced to shapelessness by any of +the ravages of time, as is so often the case with men who are infirm as +well as old. Were it not for the long and heavy eyebrows, which gave +something of severity to his face, and for that painful stoop in his +shoulders, he might still have been accounted a handsome man. In youth +he had been a very handsome man, and had shone forth in the world, +popular, beloved, respected, with all the good things the world could +give. The first blow upon him was the death of his wife. That hurt him +sorely, but it did not quite crush him. Then his only daughter died +also, just as she became a bride. High as the Lady Blanche Neville had +stood herself, she had married almost above her rank, and her father's +heart had been full of joy and pride. But she had perished +childless,—in child-birth, and again he was hurt almost to death. There +was still left to him a son,—a youth indeed thoughtless, lavish, and +prone to evil pleasures. But thought would come with years; for almost +any lavishness there were means sufficient; and evil pleasures might +cease to entice. The young Lord Neville was all that was left to the +Earl, and for his heir he paid debts and forgave injuries. The young man +would marry and all might be well. Then he found a bride for his boy,—with +no wealth, but owning the best blood in the kingdom, beautiful, +good, one who might be to him as another daughter. His boy's answer was +that he was already married! He had chosen his wife from out of the +streets, and offered to the Earl of Scroope as a child to replace the +daughter who had gone, a wretched painted prostitute from France. After +that Lord Scroope never again held up his head.</p> + +<p>The father would not see his heir,—and never saw him again. As to what +money might be needed, the lawyers in London were told to manage that. +The Earl himself would give nothing and refuse nothing. When there were +debts,—debts for the second time, debts for the third time, the lawyers +were instructed to do what in their own eyes seemed good to them. They +might pay as long as they deemed it right to pay, but they might not +name Lord Neville to his father.</p> + +<p>While things were thus the Earl married again,—the penniless daughter +of a noble house,—a woman not young, for she was forty when he married +her, but more than twenty years his junior. It sufficed for him that she +was noble, and as he believed good. Good to him she was,—with a duty +that was almost excessive. Religious she was, and self-denying; giving +much and demanding little; keeping herself in the background, but +possessing wonderful energy in the service of others. Whether she could +in truth be called good the reader may say when he has finished this +story.</p> + +<p>Then, when the Earl had been married some three years to his second +wife, the heir died. He died, and as far as Scroope Manor was concerned +there was an end of him and of the creature he had called his wife. An +annuity was purchased for her. That she should be entitled to call +herself Lady Neville while she lived, was the sad necessity of the +condition. It was understood by all who came near the Earl that no one +was to mention her within his hearing. He was thankful that no heir had +come from that most horrid union. The woman was never mentioned to him +again, nor need she trouble us further in the telling of our chronicle.</p> + +<p>But when Lord Neville died, it was necessary that the old man should +think of his new heir. Alas; in that family, though there was much that +was good and noble, there had ever been intestine feuds,—causes of +quarrel in which each party would be sure that he was right. They were +a people who thought much of the church, who were good to the poor, who +strove to be noble;—but they could not forgive injuries. They could not +forgive even when there were no injuries. The present Earl had +quarrelled with his brother in early life;—and had therefore quarrelled +with all that had belonged to the brother. The brother was now gone, +leaving two sons behind him,—two young Nevilles, Fred and Jack, of whom +Fred, the eldest, was now the heir. It was at last settled that Fred +should be sent for to Scroope Manor. Fred came, being at that time a +lieutenant in a cavalry regiment,—a fine handsome youth of five and +twenty, with the Neville eyes and Neville finely cut features. Kindly +letters passed between the widowed mother and the present Lady Scroope; +and it was decided at last, at his own request, that he should remain +one year longer in the army, and then be installed as the eldest son at +Scroope Manor. Again the lawyer was told to do what was proper in regard +to money.</p> + +<p>A few words more must be said of Lady Scroope, and then the preface to +our story will be over. She too was an Earl's daughter, and had been +much loved by our Earl's first wife. Lady Scroope had been the elder by +ten years; but yet they had been dear friends, and Lady Mary Wycombe had +passed many months of her early life amidst the gloom of the great rooms +at Scroope Manor. She had thus known the Earl well before she consented +to marry him. She had never possessed beauty,—and hardly grace. She was +strong featured, tall, with pride clearly written in her face. A reader +of faces would have declared at once that she was proud of the blood +which ran in her veins. She was very proud of her blood, and did in +truth believe that noble birth was a greater gift than any wealth. She +was thoroughly able to look down upon a parvenu millionaire,—to look +down upon such a one and not to pretend to despise him. When the Earl's +letter came to her asking her to share his gloom, she was as poor as +Charity,—dependent on a poor brother who hated the burden of such +claim. But she would have wedded no commoner, let his wealth and age +have been as they might. She knew Lord Scroope's age, and she knew the +gloom of Scroope Manor;—and she became his wife. To her of course was +told the story of the heir's marriage, and she knew that she could +expect no light, no joy in the old house from the scions of the rising +family. But now all this was changed, and it might be that she could +take the new heir to her heart.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-2"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter II.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Fred Neville.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>When Fred Neville first came to the Manor, the old Earl trembled when +called upon to receive him. Of the lad he had heard almost nothing,—of +his appearance literally nothing. It might be that his heir would be +meanly visaged, a youth of whom he would have cause to be ashamed, one +from whose countenance no sign of high blood would shine out; or, almost +worse, he also might have that look, half of vanity, and half of vice, +of which the father had gradually become aware in his own son, and which +in him had degraded the Neville beauty. But Fred, to look at, was a +gallant fellow,—such a youth as women love to see about a +house,—well-made, active, quick, self-asserting, fair-haired, +blue-eyed, short-lipped, with small whiskers, thinking but little of his +own personal advantages, but thinking much of his own way. As far as the +appearance of the young man went the Earl could not but be satisfied. +And to him, at any rate in this, the beginning of their connexion, Fred +Neville was modest and submissive. "You are welcome to Scroope," said +the old man, receiving him with stately urbanity in the middle of the +hall. "I am so much obliged to you, uncle," he said. "You are come to me +as a son, my boy,—as a son. It will be your own fault if you are not a +son to us in everything." Then in lieu of further words there shone a +tear in each of the young man's eyes, much more eloquent to the Earl +than could have been any words. He put his arm over his nephew's +shoulders, and in this guise walked with him into the room in which Lady +Scroope was awaiting them. "Mary," he said to his wife, "here is our +heir. Let him be a son to us." Then Lady Scroope took the young man in +her arms and kissed him. Thus auspiciously was commenced this new +connexion.</p> + +<p>The arrival was in September, and the game-keeper, with the under +gamekeeper, had for the last month been told to be on his mettle. Young +Mr. Neville was no doubt a sportsman. And the old groom had been warned +that hunters might be wanted in the stables next winter. Mrs. Bunce was +made to understand that liberties would probably be taken with the +house, such as had not yet been perpetrated in her time;—for the late +heir had never made the Manor his home from the time of his leaving +school. It was felt by all that great changes were to be effected,—and +it was felt also that the young man on whose behalf all this was to be +permitted, could not but be elated by his position. Of such elation, +however, there were not many signs. To his uncle, Fred Neville was, as +has been said, modest and submissive; to his aunt he was gentle but not +submissive. The rest of the household he treated civilly, but with none +of that awe which was perhaps expected from him. As for shooting, he had +come direct from his friend Carnaby's moor. Carnaby had forest as well +as moor, and Fred thought but little of partridges,—little of such +old-fashioned partridge-shooting as was prepared for him at +Scroope,—after grouse and deer. As for hunting in Dorsetshire, if his +uncle wished it,—why in that case he would think of it. According to +his ideas, Dorsetshire was not the best county in England for hunting. +Last year his regiment had been at Bristol and he had ridden with the +Duke's hounds. This winter he was to be stationed in Ireland, and he had +an idea that Irish hunting was good. If he found that his uncle made a +point of it, he would bring his horses to Scroope for a month at +Christmas. Thus he spoke to the head groom,—and thus he spoke also to +his aunt, who felt some surprise when he talked of Scotland and his +horses. She had thought that only men of large fortunes shot deer and +kept studs,—and perhaps conceived that the officers of the 20th Hussars +were generally engaged in looking after the affairs of their regiment, +and in preparation for meeting the enemy.</p> + +<p>Fred now remained a month at Scroope, and during that time there was but +little personal intercourse between him and his uncle in spite of the +affectionate greeting with which their acquaintance had been commenced. +The old man's habits of life were so confirmed that he could not bring +himself to alter them. Throughout the entire morning he would sit in his +own room alone. He would then be visited by his steward, his groom, and +his butler;—and would think that he gave his orders, submitting, +however, in almost every thing to them. His wife would sometimes sit +with him for half an hour, holding his hand, in moments of tenderness +unseen and unsuspected by all the world around them. Sometimes the +clergyman of the parish would come to him, so that he might know the +wants of the people. He would have the newspaper in his hands for a +while, and would daily read the Bible for an hour. Then he would slowly +write some letter, almost measuring every point which his pen +made,—thinking that thus he was performing his duty as a man of +business. Few men perhaps did less,—but what he did do was good; and of +self-indulgence there was surely none. Between such a one and the young +man who had now come to his house there could be but little real +connexion.</p> + +<p>Between Fred Neville and Lady Scroope there arose a much closer +intimacy. A woman can get nearer to a young man than can any old +man;—can learn more of his ways, and better understand his wishes. From +the very first there arose between them a matter of difference, as to +which there was no quarrel, but very much of argument. In that argument +Lady Scroope was unable to prevail. She was very anxious that the heir +should at once abandon his profession and sell out of the army. Of what +use could it be to him now to run after his regiment to Ireland, seeing +that undoubtedly the great duties of his life all centred at Scroope? +There were many discussions on the subject, but Fred would not give way +in regard to the next year. He would have this year, he said, to +himself;—and after that he would come and settle himself at Scroope. +Yes; no doubt he would marry as soon as he could find a fitting wife. Of +course it would be right that he should marry. He fully understood the +responsibilities of his position;—so he said, in answer to his aunt's +eager, scrutinising, beseeching questions. But as he had joined his +regiment, he thought it would be good for him to remain with it one year +longer. He particularly desired to see something of Ireland, and if he +did not do so now, he would never have the opportunity. Lady Scroope, +understanding well that he was pleading for a year of grace from the +dulness of the Manor, explained to him that his uncle would by no means +expect that he should remain always at Scroope. If he would marry, the +old London house should be prepared for him and his bride. He might +travel,—not, however, going very far afield. He might get into +Parliament; as to which, if such were his ambition, his uncle would give +him every aid. He might have his friends at Scroope Manor,—Carnaby and +all the rest of them. Every allurement was offered to him. But he had +commenced by claiming a year of grace, and to that claim he adhered.</p> + +<p>Could his uncle have brought himself to make the request in person, at +first, he might probably have succeeded;—and had he succeeded, there +would have been no story for us as to the fortunes of Scroope Manor. But +the Earl was too proud and perhaps too diffident to make the attempt. +From his wife he heard all that took place; and though he was grieved, +he expressed no anger. He could not feel himself justified in expressing +anger because his nephew chose to remain for yet a year attached to his +profession. "Who knows what may happen to him?" said the Countess.</p> + +<p>"Ah, indeed! But we are all in the hands of the Almighty." And the Earl +bowed his head. Lady Scroope, fully recognizing the truth of her +husband's pious ejaculation, nevertheless thought that human care might +advantageously be added to the divine interposition for which, as she +well knew, her lord prayed fervently as soon as the words were out of +his mouth.</p> + +<p>"But it would be so great a thing if he could be settled. Sophia +Mellerby has promised to come here for a couple of months in the winter. +He could not possibly do better than that."</p> + +<p>"The Mellerbys are very good people," said the Earl. "Her grandmother, +the duchess, is one of the very best women in England. Her mother, Lady +Sophia, is an excellent creature,—religious, and with the soundest +principles. Mr. Mellerby, as a commoner, stands as high as any man in +England."</p> + +<p>"They have held the same property since the wars of the roses. And then +I suppose the money should count for something," added the lady.</p> + +<p>Lord Scroope would not admit the importance of the money, but was quite +willing to acknowledge that were his heir to make Sophia Mellerby the +future Lady Scroope he would be content. But he could not interfere. He +did not think it wise to speak to young men on such a subject. He +thought that by doing so a young man might be rather diverted from than +attracted to the object in view. Nor would he press his wishes upon his +nephew as to next year. "Were I to ask it," he said, "and were he to +refuse me, I should be hurt. I am bound therefore to ask nothing that is +unreasonable." Lady Scroope did not quite agree with her husband in +this. She thought that as every thing was to be done for the young man; +as money almost without stint was to be placed at his command; as +hunting, parliament, and a house in London were offered to him;—as the +treatment due to a dear and only son was shown to him, he ought to give +something in return; but she herself, could say no more than she had +said, and she knew already that in those few matters in which her +husband had a decided will, he was not to be turned from it.</p> + +<p>It was arranged, therefore, that Fred Neville should join his regiment +at Limerick in October, and that he should come home to Scroope for a +fortnight or three weeks at Christmas. Sophia Mellerby was to be Lady +Scroope's guest at that time, and at last it was decided that Mrs. +Neville, who had never been seen by the Earl, should be asked to come +and bring with her her younger son, John Neville, who had been +successful in obtaining a commission in the Engineers. Other guests +should be invited, and an attempt should be made to remove the mantle of +gloom from Scroope Manor,—with the sole object of ingratiating the +heir.</p> + +<p>Early in October Fred went to Limerick, and from thence with a detached +troop of his regiment he was sent to the cavalry barracks at Ennis, the +assize town of the neighbouring County Clare. This was at first held to +be a misfortune by him, as Limerick is in all respects a better town +than Ennis, and in County Limerick the hunting is far from being bad, +whereas Clare is hardly a country for a Nimrod. But a young man, with +money at command, need not regard distances; and the Limerick balls and +the Limerick coverts were found to be equally within reach. From Ennis +also he could attend some of the Galway meets,—and then with no other +superior than a captain hardly older than himself to interfere with his +movements, he could indulge in that wild district the spirit of +adventure which was strong within him. When young men are anxious to +indulge the spirit of adventure, they generally do so by falling in love +with young women of whom their fathers and mothers would not approve. In +these days a spirit of adventure hardly goes further than this, unless +it take a young man to a German gambling table.</p> + +<p>When Fred left Scroope it was understood that he was to correspond with +his aunt. The Earl would have been utterly lost had he attempted to +write a letter to his nephew without having something special to +communicate to him. But Lady Scroope was more facile with her pen, and +it was rightly thought that the heir would hardly bring himself to look +upon Scroope as his home, unless some link were maintained between +himself and the place. Lady Scroope therefore wrote once a +week,—telling everything that there was to be told of the horses, the +game, and even of the tenants. She studied her letters, endeavouring to +make them light and agreeable,—such as a young man of large prospects +would like to receive from his own mother. He was "Dearest Fred," and in +one of those earliest written she expressed a hope that should any +trouble ever fall upon him he would come to her as to his dearest +friend. Fred was not a bad correspondent, and answered about every other +letter. His replies were short, but that was a matter of course. He was +"as jolly as a sandboy," "right as a trivet;" had had "one or two very +good things," and thought that upon the whole he liked Ennis better than +Limerick. "Johnstone is such a deuced good fellow!" Johnstone was the +captain of the 20th Hussars who happened to be stationed with him at +Limerick. Lady Scroope did not quite like the epithet, but she knew that +she had to learn to hear things to which she had hitherto not been +accustomed.</p> + +<p>This was all very well;—but Lady Scroope, having a friend in Co. Clare, +thought that she might receive tidings of the adopted one which would be +useful, and with this object she opened a correspondence with Lady Mary +Quin. Lady Mary Quin was a daughter of the Earl of Kilfenora, and was +well acquainted with all County Clare. She was almost sure to hear of +the doings of any officers stationed at Ennis, and would do so certainly +in regard to an officer that was specially introduced to her. Fred +Neville was invited to stay at Castle Quin as long as he pleased, and +actually did pass one night under its roof. But, unfortunately for him, +that spirit of adventure which he was determined to indulge led him into +the neighbourhood of Castle Quin when it was far from his intention to +interfere with the Earl or with Lady Mary, and thus led to the following +letter which Lady Scroope received about the middle of December,—just a +week before Fred's return to the Manor.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10"><span class="smallcaps">Quin +Castle, Ennistimon,</span></span><br /> +<span class="ind10">14 December, 18––.</span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Lady Scroope</span>,</p> + +<p>Since I wrote to you before, Mr. Neville has been here once, and we all +liked him very much. My father was quite taken with him. He is always +fond of the young officers, and is not the less inclined to be so of one +who is so dear and near to you. I wish he would have stayed longer, and +hope that he shall come again. We have not much to offer in the way of +amusement, but in January and February there is good snipe shooting.</p> + +<p>I find that Mr. Neville is very fond of shooting,—so much so that +before we knew anything of him except his name we had heard that he had +been on our coast after seals and sea birds. We have very high cliffs +near here,—some people say the highest in the world, and there is one +called the Hag's Head from which men get down and shoot sea-gulls. He +has been different times in our village of Liscannor, and I think he has +a boat there or at Lahinch. I believe he has already killed ever so many +seals.</p> + +<p>I tell you all this for a reason. I hope that it may come to nothing, +but I think that you ought to know. There is a widow lady living not +very far from Liscannor, but nearer up to the cliffs. Her cottage is on +papa's property, but I think she holds it from somebody else. I don't +like to say anything to papa about it. Her name is Mrs. O'Hara, and she +has a daughter.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>When Lady Scroope had read so far, she almost let the paper drop from +her hand. Of course she knew what it all meant. An Irish Miss O'Hara! +And Fred Neville was spending his time in pursuit of this girl! Lady +Scroope had known what it would be when the young man was allowed to +return to his regiment in spite of the manifold duties which should have +bound him to Scroope Manor.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p>I have seen this young lady,<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">continued Lady Mary,<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent">and she is certainly very pretty. But +nobody knows anything about them; +and I cannot even learn whether they belong to the real O'Haras. I +should think not, as they are Roman Catholics. At any rate Miss O'Hara +can hardly be a fitting companion for Lord Scroope's heir. I believe +they are ladies, but I don't think that any one knows them here, except +the priest of Kilmacrenny. We never could make out quite why they came +here,—only that Father Marty knows something about them. He is the +priest of Kilmacrenny. She is a very pretty girl, and I never heard a +word against her;—but I don't know whether that does not make it worse, +because a young man is so likely to get entangled.</p> + +<p>I daresay nothing shall come of it, and I'm sure I hope that nothing +may. But I thought it best to tell you. Pray do not let him know that +you have heard from me. Young men are so very particular about things, +and I don't know what he might say of me if he knew that I had written +home to you about his private affairs. All the same if I can be of any +service to you, pray let me know. Excuse haste. And believe me to be,</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours most sincerely,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Mary Quin</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>A Roman Catholic;—one whom no one knew but the priest;—a girl who +perhaps never had a father! All this was terrible to Lady Scroope. Roman +Catholics,—and especially Irish Roman Catholics,—were people whom, as +she thought, every one should fear in this world, and for whom +everything was to be feared in the next. How would it be with the Earl +if this heir also were to tell him some day that he was married? Would +not his grey hairs be brought to the grave with a double load of sorrow? +However, for the present she thought it better to say not a word to the +Earl.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-3"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter III.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Sophie Mellerby.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Lady Scroope thought a great deal about her friend's communication, but +at last made up her mind that she could do nothing till Fred should have +returned. Indeed she hardly knew what she could do when he did come +back. The more she considered it the greater seemed to her to be the +difficulty of doing anything. How is a woman, how is even a mother, to +caution a young man against the danger of becoming acquainted with a +pretty girl? She could not mention Miss O'Hara's name without mentioning +that of Lady Mary Quin in connexion with it. And when asked, as of +course she would be asked, as to her own information, what could she +say? She had been told that he had made himself acquainted with a widow +lady who had a pretty daughter, and that was all! When young men will +run into such difficulties, it is, alas, so very difficult to interfere +with them!</p> + +<p>And yet the matter was of such importance as to justify almost any +interference. A Roman Catholic Irish girl of whom nothing was known but +that her mother was said to be a widow, was, in Lady Scroope's eyes, as +formidable a danger as could come in the way of her husband's heir. Fred +Neville was, she thought, with all his good qualities, exactly the man +to fall in love with a wild Irish girl. If Fred were to write home some +day and say that he was about to marry such a bride,—or, worse again, +that he had married her, the tidings would nearly kill the Earl. After +all that had been endured, such a termination to the hopes of the family +would be too cruel! And Lady Scroope could not but feel the injustice of +it. Every thing was being done for this heir, for whom nothing need have +been done. He was treated as a son, but he was not a son. He was treated +with exceptional favour as a son. Everything was at his disposal. He +might marry and begin life at once with every want amply supplied, if he +would only marry such a woman as was fit to be a future Countess of +Scroope. Very little was required from him. He was not expected to marry +an heiress. An heiress indeed was prepared for him, and would be there, +ready for him at Christmas,—an heiress, beautiful, well-born, fit in +every respect,—religious too. But he was not to be asked to marry +Sophie Mellerby. He might choose for himself. There were other well-born +young women about the world,—duchesses' granddaughters in abundance! +But it was imperative that he should marry at least a lady, and at least +a Protestant.</p> + +<p>Lady Scroope felt very strongly that he should never have been allowed +to rejoin his regiment, when a home at Scroope was offered to him. He +was a free agent of course, and equally of course the title and the +property must ultimately be his. But something of a bargain might have +been made with him when all the privileges of a son were offered to him. +When he was told that he might have all Scroope to himself,—for it +amounted nearly to that; that he might hunt there and shoot there and +entertain his friends; that the family house in London should be given +up to him if he would marry properly; that an income almost without +limit should be provided for him, surely it would not have been too much +to demand that as a matter of course he should leave the army! But this +had not been done; and now there was an Irish Roman Catholic widow with +a daughter, with seal-shooting and a boat and high cliffs right in the +young man's way! Lady Scroope could not analyse it, but felt all the +danger as though it were by instinct. Partridge and pheasant shooting +on a gentleman's own grounds, and an occasional day's hunting with the +hounds in his own county, were, in Lady Scroope's estimation, becoming +amusements for an English gentleman. They did not interfere with the +exercise of his duties. She had by no means brought herself to like the +yearly raids into Scotland made latterly by sportsmen. But if Scotch +moors and forests were dangerous, what were Irish cliffs! Deer-stalking +was bad in her imagination. She was almost sure that when men went up to +Scotch forests they did not go to church on Sundays. But the idea of +seal-shooting was much more horrible. And then there was that priest who +was the only friend of the widow who had the daughter!</p> + +<p>On the morning of the day in which Fred was to reach the Manor, Lady +Scroope did speak to her husband. "Don't you think, my dear, that +something might be done to prevent Fred's returning to that horrid +country?"</p> + +<p>"What can we do?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he would wish to oblige you. You are being very good to him."</p> + +<p>"It is for the old to give, Mary, and for the young to accept. I do all +for him because he is all to me; but what am I to him, that he should +sacrifice any pleasure for me? He can break my heart. Were I even to +quarrel with him, the worst I could do would be to send him to the +money-lenders for a year or two."</p> + +<p>"But why should he care about his regiment now?"</p> + +<p>"Because his regiment means liberty."</p> + +<p>"And you won't ask him to give it up?"</p> + +<p>"I think not. If I were to ask him I should expect him to yield, and +then I should be disappointed were he to refuse. I do not wish him to +think me a tyrant." This was the end of the conversation, for Lady +Scroope did not as yet dare to speak to the Earl about the widow and her +daughter. She must now try her skill and eloquence with the young man +himself.</p> + +<p>The young man arrived and was received with kindest greetings. Two +horses had preceded him, so that he might find himself mounted as soon +as he chose after his arrival, and two others were coming. This was all +very well, but his aunt was a little hurt when he declared his purpose +of going down to the stables just as she told him that Sophia Mellerby +was in the house. He arrived on the 23rd at +4 <span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span>, and it had been +declared that he was to hunt on the morrow. It was already dark, and +surely he might have been content on the first evening of his arrival to +abstain from the stables! Not a word had been said to Sophie Mellerby of +Lady Scroope's future hopes. Lady Scroope and Lady Sophia would each +have thought that it was wicked to do so. But the two women had been +fussy, and Miss Mellerby must have been less discerning than are young +ladies generally, had she not understood what was expected of her. Girls +are undoubtedly better prepared to fall in love with men whom they have +never seen, than are men with girls. It is a girl's great business in +life to love and to be loved. Of some young men it may almost be said +that it is their great business to avoid such a catastrophe. Such ought +not to have been the case with Fred Neville now;—but in such light he +regarded it. He had already said to himself that Sophie Mellerby was to +be pitched at his head. He knew no reason,—none as yet,—why he should +not like Miss Mellerby well enough. But he was a little on his guard +against her, and preferred seeing his horses first. Sophie, when +according to custom, and indeed in this instance in accordance with +special arrangement, she went into Lady Scroope's sitting-room for tea, +was rather disappointed at not finding Mr. Neville there. She knew that +he had visited his uncle immediately on his arrival, and having just +come in from the park she had gone to her room to make some little +preparation for the meeting. If it was written in Fate's book that she +was to be the next Lady Scroope, the meeting was important. Perhaps that +writing in Fate's book might depend on the very adjustment which she was +now making of her hair.</p> + +<p>"He has gone to look at his horses," said Lady Scroope, unable not to +shew her disappointment by the tone of her voice.</p> + +<p>"That is so natural," said Sophie, who was more cunning. "Young men +almost idolize their horses. I should like to go and see Dandy whenever +he arrives anywhere, only I don't dare!" Dandy was Miss Mellerby's own +horse, and was accustomed to make journeys up and down between Mellerby +and London.</p> + +<p>"I don't think horses and guns and dogs should be too much thought of," +said Lady Scroope gravely. "There is a tendency I think at present to +give them an undue importance. When our amusements become more serious +to us than our business, we must be going astray."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we always are going astray," said Miss Mellerby. Lady Scroope +sighed and shook her head; but in shaking it she shewed that she +completely agreed with the opinion expressed by her guest.</p> + +<p>As there were only two horses to be inspected, and as Fred Neville +absolutely refused the groom's invitation to look at the old carriage +horses belonging to the family, he was back in his aunt's room before +Miss Mellerby had gone upstairs to dress for dinner. The introduction +was made, and Fred did his best to make himself agreeable. He was such a +man that no girl could, at the first sight of him, think herself injured +by being asked to love him. She was a good girl, and would have +consented to marry no man without feeling sure of his affections; but +Fred Neville was bold and frank as well as handsome, and had plenty to +say for himself. It might be that he was vicious, or ill-tempered, or +selfish, and it would be necessary that she should know much of him +before she would give herself into his keeping; but as far as the first +sight went, and the first hearing, Sophie Mellerby's impressions were +all in Fred's favour. It is no doubt a fact that with the very best of +girls a man is placed in a very good light by being heir to a peerage +and a large property.</p> + +<p>"Do you hunt, Miss Mellerby?" he asked. She shook her head and looked +grave, and then laughed. Among her people hunting was not thought to be +a desirable accomplishment for young ladies. "Almost all girls do hunt +now," said Fred.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is a nice amusement for young ladies?" asked the aunt +in a severe tone.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not;—that is if they know how to ride."</p> + +<p>"I know how to ride," said Sophie Mellerby.</p> + +<p>"Riding is all very well," said Lady Scroope. "I quite approve of it for +girls. When I was young, everybody did not ride as they do now. +Nevertheless it is very well, and is thought to be healthy. But as for +hunting, Sophie, I'm sure your mamma would be very much distressed if +you were to think of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"But, dear Lady Scroope, I haven't thought of it, and I am not going to +think of it;—and if I thought of it ever so much, I shouldn't do it. +Poor mamma would be frightened into fits,—only that nobody at Mellerby +could possibly be made to believe it, unless they saw me doing it."</p> + +<p>"Then there can be no reason why you shouldn't make the attempt," said +Fred. Upon which Lady Scroope pretended to look grave, and told him that +he was very wicked. But let an old lady be ever so strict towards her +own sex, she likes a little wickedness in a young man,—if only he does +not carry it to the extent of marrying the wrong sort of young woman.</p> + +<p>Sophia Mellerby was a tall, graceful, well-formed girl, showing her high +blood in every line of her face. On her mother's side she had come from +the Ancrums, whose family, as everybody knows, is one of the oldest in +England; and, as the Earl had said, the Mellerbys had been Mellerbys +from the time of King John, and had been living on the same spot for at +least four centuries. They were and always had been Mellerbys of +Mellerby,—the very name of the parish being the same as that of the +family. If Sophia Mellerby did not shew breeding, what girl could shew +it? She was fair, with a somewhat thin oval face, with dark eyes, and an +almost perfect Grecian nose. Her mouth was small, and her chin +delicately formed. And yet it can hardly be said that she was beautiful. +Or, if beautiful, she was so in women's eyes rather than in those of +men. She lacked colour and perhaps animation in her countenance. She had +more character, indeed, than was told by her face, which is generally so +true an index of the mind. Her education had been as good as England +could afford, and her intellect had been sufficient to enable her to +make use of it. But her chief charm in the eyes of many consisted in the +fact, doubted by none, that she was every inch a lady. She was an only +daughter, too,—with an only brother; and as the Ancrums were all rich, +she would have a very pretty fortune of her own. Fred Neville, who had +literally been nobody before his cousin had died, might certainly do +much worse than marry her.</p> + +<p>And after a day or two they did seem to get on very well together. He +had reached Scroope on the 21st, and on the 23rd Mrs. Neville arrived +with her youngest son Jack Neville. This was rather a trial to the Earl, +as he had never yet seen his brother's widow. He had heard when his +brother married that she was fast, fond of riding, and loud. She had +been the daughter of a Colonel Smith, with whom his brother, at that +time a Captain Neville, had formed acquaintance;—and had been a beauty +very well known as such at Dublin and other garrison towns. No real harm +had ever been known of her, but the old Earl had always felt that his +brother had made an unfortunate marriage. As at that time they had not +been on speaking terms, it had not signified much;—but there had been a +prejudice at Scroope against the Captain's wife, which by no means died +out when the late Julia Smith became the Captain's widow with two sons. +Old reminiscences remain very firm with old people,—and Lord Scroope +was still much afraid of the fast, loud beauty. His principles told him +that he should not sever the mother from the son, and that as it suited +him to take the son for his own purposes, he should also, to some +extent, accept the mother also. But he dreaded the affair. He dreaded +Mrs. Neville; and he dreaded Jack, who had been so named after his +gallant grandfather, Colonel Smith. When Mrs. Neville arrived, she was +found to be so subdued and tame that she could hardly open her mouth +before the old Earl. Her loudness, if she ever had been loud, was +certainly all gone,—and her fastness, if ever she had been fast, had +been worn out of her. She was an old woman, with the relics of great +beauty, idolizing her two sons for whom all her life had been a +sacrifice, in weak health, and prepared, if necessary, to sit in silent +awe at the feet of the Earl who had been so good to her boy.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done," she said, in a +low voice.</p> + +<p>"No thanks are required," said the Earl. "He is the same to us as if he +were our own." Then she raised the old man's hand and kissed it,—and +the old man owned to himself that he had made a mistake.</p> + +<p>As to Jack Neville—. But Jack Neville shall have another chapter opened +on his behalf.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-4"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter IV.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Jack Neville.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + + +<p>John is a very respectable name;—perhaps there is no name more +respectable in the English language. Sir John, as the head of a family, +is certainly as respectable as any name can be. For an old family +coachman it beats all names. Mr. John Smith would be sure to have a +larger balance at his banker's than Charles Smith or Orlando Smith,—or +perhaps than any other Smith whatever. The Rev. Frederic Walker might be +a wet parson, but the Rev. John Walker would assuredly be a good +clergyman at all points, though perhaps a little dull in his sermons. +Yet almost all Johns have been Jacks, and Jack, in point of +respectability, is the very reverse of John. How it is, or when it is, +that the Jacks become re-Johned, and go back to the original and +excellent name given to them by their godfathers and godmothers, nobody +ever knows. Jack Neville, probably through some foolish fondness on his +mother's part, had never been re-Johned,—and consequently the Earl, +when he made up his mind to receive his sister-in-law, was at first +unwilling to invite his younger nephew. "But he is in the Engineers," +said Lady Scroope. The argument had its weight, and Jack Neville was +invited. But even that argument failed to obliterate the idea which had +taken hold of the Earl's mind. There had never yet been a Jack among the +Scroopes.</p> + +<p>When Jack came he was found to be very unlike the Nevilles in +appearance. In the first place he was dark, and in the next place he was +ugly. He was a tall, well-made fellow, taller than his brother, and +probably stronger; and he had very different eyes,—very dark brown +eyes, deeply set in his head, with large dark eyebrows. He wore his +black hair very short, and had no beard whatever. His features were +hard, and on one cheek he had a cicatrice, the remains of some +misfortune that had happened to him in his boyhood. But in spite of his +ugliness,—for he was ugly, there was much about him in his gait and +manner that claimed attention. Lord Scroope, the moment that he saw him, +felt that he ought not to be called Jack. Indeed the Earl was almost +afraid of him, and so after a time was the Countess. "Jack ought to have +been the eldest," Fred had said to his aunt.</p> + +<p>"Why should he have been the eldest?"</p> + +<p>"Because he is so much the cleverest. I could never have got into the +Engineers."</p> + +<p>"That seems to be a reason why he should be the youngest," said Lady +Scroope.</p> + +<p>Two or three other people arrived, and the house became much less dull +than was its wont. Jack Neville occasionally rode his brother's +horses, and the Earl was forced to acknowledge another mistake. The +mother was very silent, but she was a lady. The young Engineer was not +only a gentleman,—but for his age a very well educated gentleman, and +Lord Scroope was almost proud of his relatives. For the first week the +affair between Fred Neville and Miss Mellerby really seemed to make +progress. She was not a girl given to flirting,—not prone to outward +demonstrations of partiality for a young man; but she never withdrew +herself from her intended husband, and Fred seemed quite willing to be +attentive. Not a word was said to hurry the young people, and Lady +Scroope's hopes were high. Of course no allusion had been made to those +horrid Irish people, but it did not seem to Lady Scroope that the heir +had left his heart behind him in Co. Clare.</p> + +<p>Fred had told his aunt in one of his letters that he would stay three +weeks at Scroope, but she had not supposed that he would limit himself +exactly to that period. No absolute limit had been fixed for the visit +of Mrs. Neville and her younger son, but it was taken for granted that +they would not remain should Fred depart. As to Sophie Mellerby, her +visit was elastic. She was there for a purpose, and might remain all the +winter if the purpose could be so served. For the first fortnight Lady +Scroope thought that the affair was progressing well. Fred hunted three +days a week, and was occasionally away from home,—going to dine with a +regiment at Dorchester, and once making a dash up to London; but his +manner to Miss Mellerby was very nice, and there could be no doubt but +that Sophie liked him. When, on a sudden, the heir said a word to his +aunt which was almost equal to firing a pistol at her head. "I think +Master Jack is making it all square with Sophie Mellerby."</p> + +<p>If there was anything that Lady Scroope hated almost as much as improper +marriages it was slang. She professed that she did not understand it; +and in carrying out her profession always stopped the conversation to +have any word explained to her which she thought had been used in an +improper sense. The idea of a young man making it "all square" with a +young woman was repulsive, but the idea of this young man making it "all +square" with this young woman was so much more repulsive, and the misery +to her was so intensely heightened by the unconcern displayed by the +heir in so speaking of the girl with whom he ought to have been making +it "all square" himself, that she could hardly allow herself to be +arrested by that stumbling block. "Impossible!" she exclaimed,—"that is +if you mean,—if you mean,—if you mean anything at all."</p> + +<p>"I do mean a good deal."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't believe a word of it. It's quite out of the question. It's +impossible. I'm quite sure your brother understands his position as a +gentleman too thoroughly to dream of such a thing."</p> + +<p>This was Greek to Fred Neville. Why his brother should not fall in love +with a pretty girl, and why a pretty girl should not return the feeling, +without any disgrace to his brother, Fred could not understand. His +brother was a Neville, and was moreover an uncommonly clever fellow. +"Why shouldn't he dream of it?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place—. Well! I did think, Fred, that you yourself seemed +to be,—seemed to be taken with Miss Mellerby."</p> + +<p>"Who? I? Oh, dear no. She's a very nice girl and all that, and I like +her amazingly. If she were Jack's wife, I never saw a girl I should so +much like for a sister."</p> + +<p>"It is quite out of the question. I wonder that you can speak in such a +way. What right can your brother have to think of such a girl as Miss +Mellerby? He has no position;—no means."</p> + +<p>"He is my brother," said Fred, with a little touch of anger,—already +discounting his future earldom on his brother's behalf.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he is your brother; but you don't suppose that Mr. Mellerby would +give his daughter to an officer in the Engineers who has, as far as I +know, no private means whatever."</p> + +<p>"He will have,—when my mother dies. Of course I can't speak of doing +anything for anybody at present. I may die before my uncle. Nothing is +more likely. But then, if I do, Jack would be my uncle's heir."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there's anything in it at all," said Lady Scroope in +great dudgeon.</p> + +<p>"I dare say not. If there is, they haven't told me. It's not likely they +would. But I thought I saw something coming up, and as it seemed to be +the most natural thing in the world, I mentioned it. As for me,—Miss +Mellerby doesn't care a straw for me. You may be sure of that."</p> + +<p>"She would—if you'd ask her."</p> + +<p>"But I never shall ask her. What's the use of beating about the bush, +aunt? I never shall ask her; and if I did, she wouldn't have me. If you +want to make Sophie Mellerby your niece, Jack's your game."</p> + +<p>Lady Scroope was ineffably disgusted. To be told that "Jack was her +game" was in itself a terrible annoyance to her. But to be so told in +reference to such a subject was painful in the extreme. Of course she +could not make this young man marry as she wished. She had acknowledged +to herself from the first that there could be no cause of anger against +him should he not fall into the silken net which was spread for him. +Lady Scroope was not an unreasonable woman, and understood well the +power which young people have over old people. She knew that she +couldn't quarrel with Fred Neville, even if she would. He was the heir, +and in a very few years would be the owner of everything. In order to +keep him straight, to save him from debts, to protect him from +money-lenders, and to secure the family standing and property till he +should have made things stable by having a wife and heir of his own, all +manner of indulgence must be shown him. She quite understood that such a +horse must be ridden with a very light hand. She must put up with slang +from him, though she would resent it from any other human being. He must +be allowed to smoke in his bed-room, to be late at dinner, to shirk +morning prayers,—making her only too happy if he would not shirk Sunday +church also. Of course he must choose a bride for himself,—only not a +Roman Catholic wild Irish bride of whom nobody knew anything!</p> + +<p>As to that other matter concerning Jack and Sophie Mellerby, she could +not bring herself to believe it. She had certainly seen that they were +good friends,—as would have been quite fit had Fred been engaged to +her; but she had not conceived the possibility of any mistake on such a +subject. Surely Sophie herself knew better what she was about! How would +she,—she, Lady Scroope,—answer it to Lady Sophia, if Sophie should go +back to Mellerby from her house, engaged to a younger brother who had +nothing but a commission in the Engineers? Sophie had been sent to +Scroope on purpose to be fallen in love with by the heir; and how would +it be with Lady Scroope if, in lieu of this, she should not only have +been fallen in love with by the heir's younger brother, but have +responded favourably to so base an affection?</p> + +<p>That same afternoon Fred told his uncle that he was going back to +Ireland on the day but one following, thus curtailing his promised three +weeks by two days. "I am sorry that you are so much hurried, Fred," said +the old man.</p> + +<p>"So am I, my lord,—but Johnstone has to go to London on business, and I +promised when I got leave that I wouldn't throw him over. You see,—when +one has a profession one must attend to it,—more or less."</p> + +<p>"But you hardly need the profession."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, uncle;—it is very kind of you to say so. And as you wish me +to leave it, I will when the year is over. I have told the fellows that +I shall stay till next October, and I shouldn't like to change now." The +Earl hadn't another word to say.</p> + +<p>But on the day before Fred's departure there came a short note from Lady +Mary Quin which made poor Lady Scroope more unhappy than ever. Tidings +had reached her in a mysterious way that the O'Haras were eagerly +expecting the return of Mr. Neville. Lady Mary thought that if Mr. +Neville's quarters could be moved from Ennis, it would be very expedient +for many reasons. She knew that enquiries had been made for him and that +he was engaged to dine on a certain day with Father Marty the priest. +Father Marty would no doubt go any lengths to serve his friends the +O'Haras. Then Lady Mary was very anxious that not a word should be said +to Mr. Neville which might lead him to suppose that reports respecting +him were being sent from Quin Castle to Scroope.</p> + +<p>The Countess in her agony thought it best to tell the whole story to the +Earl. "But what can I do?" said the old man. "Young men will form these +acquaintances." His fears were evidently as yet less dark than those of +his wife.</p> + +<p>"It would be very bad if we were to hear that he was married to a girl +of whom we only know that she is a Roman Catholic and friendless."</p> + +<p>The Earl's brow became very black. "I don't think that he would treat me +in that way."</p> + +<p>"Not meaning it, perhaps;—but if he should become entangled and make a +promise!"</p> + +<p>Then the Earl did speak to his nephew. "Fred," he said, "I have been +thinking a great deal about you. I have little else to think of now. I +should take it as a mark of affection from you if you would give up the +army—at once."</p> + +<p>"And not join my regiment again at all?"</p> + +<p>"It is absurd that you should do so in your present position. You should +be here, and learn the circumstances of the property before it becomes +your own. There can hardly be more than a year or two left for the +lesson."</p> + +<p>The Earl's manner was very impressive. He looked into his nephew's face +as he spoke, and stood with his hand upon the young man's shoulder. But +Fred Neville was a Neville all over,—and the Nevilles had always chosen +to have their own way. He had not the power of intellect nor the +finished manliness which his brother possessed; but he could be as +obstinate as any Neville,—as obstinate as his father had been, or his +uncle. And in this matter he had arguments which his uncle could hardly +answer on the spur of the moment. No doubt he could sell out in proper +course, but at the present moment he was as much bound by military law +to return as would be any common soldier at the expiration of his +furlough. He must go back. That at any rate was certain. And if his +uncle did not much mind it, he would prefer to remain with his regiment +till October.</p> + +<p>Lord Scroope could not condescend to repeat his request, or even again +to allude to it. His whole manner altered as he took his hand away from +his nephew's shoulder. But still he was determined that there should be +no quarrel. As yet there was no ground for quarrelling,—and by any +quarrel the injury to him would be much greater than any that could +befall the heir. He stood for a moment and then he spoke again in a tone +very different from that he had used before. "I hope," he said,—and +then he paused again; "I hope you know how very much depends on your +marrying in a manner suitable to your position."</p> + +<p>"Quite so;—I think."</p> + +<p>"It is the one hope left to me to see you properly settled in life."</p> + +<p>"Marriage is a very serious thing, uncle. Suppose I were not to marry at +all! Sometimes I think my brother is much more like marrying than I am."</p> + +<p>"You are bound to marry," said the Earl solemnly. "And you are specially +bound by every duty to God and man to make no marriage that will be +disgraceful to the position which you are called upon to fill."</p> + +<p>"At any rate I will not do that," said Fred Neville proudly. From this +the Earl took some comfort, and then the interview was over.</p> + +<p>On the day appointed by himself Fred left the Manor, and his mother and +brother went on the following day. But after he was gone, on that same +afternoon, Jack Neville asked Sophie Mellerby to be his wife. She +refused him,—with all the courtesy she knew how to use, but also with +all the certainty. And as soon as he had left the house she told Lady +Scroope what had happened.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-5"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter V.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Ardkill Cottage.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The cliffs of Moher in Co. Clare, on the western coast of Ireland, are +not as well known to tourists as they should be. It may be doubted +whether Lady Mary Quin was right when she called them the highest cliffs +in the world, but they are undoubtedly very respectable cliffs, and run +up some six hundred feet from the sea as nearly perpendicular as cliffs +should be. They are beautifully coloured, streaked with yellow veins, +and with great masses of dark red rock; and beneath them lies the broad +and blue Atlantic. Lady Mary's exaggeration as to the comparative height +is here acknowledged, but had she said that below them rolls the +brightest bluest clearest water in the world she would not have been far +wrong. To the south of these cliffs there runs inland a broad +bay,—Liscannor bay, on the sides of which are two little villages, +Liscannor and Lahinch. At the latter, Fred Neville, since he had been +quartered at Ennis, had kept a boat for the sake of shooting seals and +exploring the coast,—and generally carrying out his spirit of +adventure. Not far from Liscannor was Castle Quin, the seat of the Earl +of Kilfenora; and some way up from Liscannor towards the cliffs, about +two miles from the village, there is a cottage called Ardkill. Here +lived Mrs. and Miss O'Hara.</p> + +<p>It was the nearest house to the rocks, from which it was distant less +than half a mile. The cottage, so called, was a low rambling long house, +but one storey high,—very unlike an English cottage. It stood in two +narrow lengths, the one running at right angles to the other; and +contained a large kitchen, two sitting rooms,—of which one was never +used,—and four or five bed-rooms of which only three were furnished. +The servant girl occupied one, and the two ladies the others. It was a +blank place enough,—and most unlike that sort of cottage which English +ladies are supposed to inhabit, when they take to cottage life. There +was no garden to it, beyond a small patch in which a few potatoes were +planted. It was so near to the ocean, so exposed to winds from the +Atlantic, that no shrubs would live there. Everything round it, even the +herbage, was impregnated with salt, and told tales of the neighbouring +waves. When the wind was from the west the air would be so laden with +spray that one could not walk there without being wet. And yet the place +was very healthy, and noted for the fineness of its air. Rising from the +cottage, which itself stood high, was a steep hill running up to the top +of the cliff, covered with that peculiar moss which the salt spray of +the ocean produces. On this side the land was altogether open, but a few +sheep were always grazing there when the wind was not so high as to +drive them to some shelter. Behind the cottage there was an enclosed +paddock which belonged to it, and in which Mrs. O'Hara kept her cow. +Roaming free around the house, and sometimes in it, were a dozen hens +and a noisy old cock which, with the cow, made up the total of the +widow's live stock. About a half a mile from the cottage on the way to +Liscannor there were half a dozen mud cabins which contained Mrs. +O'Hara's nearest neighbours,—and an old burying ground. Half a mile +further on again was the priest's house, and then on to Liscannor there +were a few other straggling cabins here and there along the road.</p> + +<p>Up to the cottage indeed there could hardly be said to be more than a +track, and beyond the cottage no more than a sheep path. The road coming +out from Liscannor was a real road as far as the burying ground, but +from thence onward it had degenerated. A car, or carriage if needed, +might be brought up to the cottage door, for the ground was hard and the +way was open. But no wheels ever travelled there now. The priest, when +he would come, came on horseback, and there was a shed in which he could +tie up his nag. He himself from time to time would send up a truss of +hay for his nag's use, and would think himself cruelly used because the +cow would find her way in and eat it. No other horse ever called at the +widow's door. What slender stores were needed for her use, were all +brought on the girls' backs from Liscannor. To the north of the cottage, +along the cliff, there was no road for miles, nor was there house or +habitation. Castle Quin, in which the noble but somewhat impoverished +Quin family lived nearly throughout the year, was distant, inland, about +three miles from the cottage. Lady Mary had said in her letter to her +friend that Mrs. O'Hara was a lady;—and as Mrs. O'Hara had no other +neighbour, ranking with herself in that respect, so near her, and none +other but the Protestant clergyman's wife within six miles of her, +charity, one would have thought, might have induced some of the Quin +family to notice her. But the Quins were Protestant, and Mrs. O'Hara was +not only a Roman Catholic, but a Roman Catholic who had been brought +into the parish by the priest. No evil certainly was known of her, but +then nothing was known of her; and the Quins were a very cautious people +where religion was called in question. In the days of the famine Father +Marty and the Earl and the Protestant vicar had worked together in the +good cause;—but those days were now gone by, and the strange intimacy +had soon died away. The Earl when he met the priest would bow to him, +and the two clergymen would bow to each other;—but beyond such dumb +salutation there was no intercourse between them. It had been held +therefore to be impossible to take any notice of the priest's friends.</p> + +<p>And what notice could have been taken of two ladies who came from nobody +knew where, to live in that wild out-of-the-way place, nobody knew why? +They called themselves mother and daughter, and they called themselves +O'Haras;—but there was no evidence of the truth even of these +assertions. They were left therefore in their solitude, and never saw +the face of a friend across their door step except that of Father Marty.</p> + +<p>In truth Mrs. O'Hara's life had been of a nature almost to necessitate +such solitude. With her story we have nothing to do here. For our +purpose there is no need that her tale should be told. Suffice it to say +that she had been deserted by her husband, and did not now know whether +she was or was not a widow. This was in truth the only mystery attached +to her. She herself was an Englishwoman, though a Catholic; but she had +been left early an orphan, and had been brought up in a provincial town +of France by her grandmother. There she had married a certain Captain +O'Hara, she having some small means of her own sufficient to make her +valuable in the eyes of an adventurer. At that time she was no more than +eighteen, and had given her hand to the Captain in opposition to the +wishes of her only guardian. What had been her life from that time to +the period at which, under Father Marty's auspices, she became the +inhabitant of Ardkill Cottage, no one knew but herself. She was then +utterly dissevered from all friends and relatives, and appeared on the +western coast of County Clare with her daughter, a perfect stranger to +every one. Father Marty was an old man, now nearly seventy, and had been +educated in France. There he had known Mrs. O'Hara's grandmother, and +hence had arisen the friendship which had induced him to bring the lady +into his parish. She came there with a daughter, then hardly more than a +child. Between two and three years had passed since her coming, and the +child was now a grown-up girl, nearly nineteen years old. Of her means +little or nothing was known accurately, even to the priest. She had told +him that she had saved enough out of the wreck on which to live with her +girl after some very humble fashion, and she paid her way. There must +have come some sudden crash, or she would hardly have taken her child +from an expensive Parisian school to vegetate in such solitude as that +she had chosen. And it was a solitude from which there seemed to be no +chance of future escape. They had brought with them a piano and a few +books, mostly French;—and with these it seemed to have been intended +that the two ladies should make their future lives endurable. Other +resources except such as the scenery of the cliffs afforded them, they +had none.</p> + +<p>The author would wish to impress upon his readers, if it may be +possible, some idea of the outward appearance and personal character of +each of these two ladies, as his story can hardly be told successfully +unless he do so. The elder, who was at this time still under forty years +of age, would have been a very handsome woman had not troubles, +suffering, and the contests of a rugged life, in which she had both +endured and dared much, given to her face a look of hard combative +resolution which was not feminine. She was rather below than above the +average height,—or at any rate looked to be so, as she was strongly +made, with broad shoulders, and a waist that was perhaps not now as +slender as when she first met Captain O'Hara. But her hair was still +black,—as dark at least as hair can be which is not in truth black at +all but only darkly brown. Whatever might be its colour there was no +tinge of grey upon it. It was glossy, silken, and long as when she was a +girl. I do not think that she took pride in it. How could she take pride +in personal beauty, when she was never seen by any man younger than +Father Marty or the old peasant who brought turf to her door in creels +on a donkey's back? But she wore it always without any cap, tied in a +simple knot behind her head. Whether chignons had been invented then the +author does not remember,—but they certainly had not become common on +the coast of County Clare, and the peasants about Liscannor thought Mrs. +O'Hara's head of hair the finest they had ever seen. Had the ladies Quin +of the Castle possessed such hair as that, they would not have been the +ladies Quin to this day. Her eyes were lustrous, dark, and very +large,—beautiful eyes certainly; but they were eyes that you might +fear. They had been softer perhaps in youth, before the spirit of the +tiger had been roused in the woman's bosom by neglect and ill-usage. Her +face was now bronzed by years and weather. Of her complexion she took no +more care than did the neighbouring fishermen of theirs, and the winds +and the salt water, and perhaps the working of her own mind, had told +upon it, to make it rough and dark. But yet there was a colour in her +cheeks, as we often see in those of wandering gipsies, which would make +a man stop to regard her who had eyes appreciative of beauty. Her nose +was well formed,—a heaven-made nose, and not a lump of flesh stuck on +to the middle of her face as women's noses sometimes are;—but it was +somewhat short and broad at the nostrils, a nose that could imply much +anger, and perhaps tenderness also. Her face below her nose was very +short. Her mouth was large, but laden with expression. Her lips were +full and her teeth perfect as pearls. Her chin was short and perhaps now +verging to that size which we call a double chin, and marked by as broad +a dimple as ever Venus made with her finger on the face of a woman.</p> + +<p>She had ever been strong and active, and years in that retreat had told +upon her not at all. She would still walk to Liscannor, and thence +round, when the tide was low, beneath the cliffs, and up by a path which +the boys had made from the foot through the rocks to the summit, though +the distance was over ten miles, and the ascent was very steep. She +would remain for hours on the rocks, looking down upon the sea, when the +weather was almost at its roughest. When the winds were still, and the +sun was setting across the ocean, and the tame waves were only just +audible as they rippled on the stones below, she would sit there with +her child, holding the girl's hand or just touching her arm, and would +be content so to stay almost without a word; but when the winds blew, +and the heavy spray came up in blinding volumes, and the white-headed +sea-monsters were roaring in their fury against the rocks, she would be +there alone with her hat in her hand, and her hair drenched. She would +watch the gulls wheeling and floating beneath her, and would listen to +their screams and try to read their voices. She would envy the birds as +they seemed to be worked into madness by the winds which still were not +strong enough to drive them from their purposes. To linger there among +the rocks seemed to be the only delight left to her in life,—except +that intense delight which a mother has in loving her child. She herself +read but little, and never put a hand upon the piano. But she had a +faculty of sitting and thinking, of brooding over her own past years and +dreaming of her daughter's future life, which never deserted her. With +her the days were doubtless very sad, but it cannot truly be said that +they were dull or tedious.</p> + +<p>And there was a sparkle of humour about her too, which would sometimes +shine the brightest when there was no one by her to appreciate it. Her +daughter would smile at her mother's sallies,—but she did so simply in +kindness. Kate did not share her mother's sense of humour,—did not +share it as yet. With the young the love of fun is gratified generally +by grotesque movement. It is not till years are running on that the +grotesqueness of words and ideas is appreciated. But Mrs. O'Hara would +expend her art on the household drudge, or on old Barney Corcoran who +came with the turf,—though by neither of them was she very clearly +understood. Now and again she would have a war of words with the priest, +and that, I think, she liked. She was intensely combative, if ground for +a combat arose; and would fight on any subject with any human +being—except her daughter. And yet with the priest she never +quarrelled; and though she was rarely beaten in her contests with him, +she submitted to him in much. In matters touching her religion she +submitted to him altogether.</p> + +<p>Kate O'Hara was in face very like her mother;—strangely like, for in +much she was very different. But she had her mother's eyes,—though hers +were much softer in their lustre, as became her youth,—and she had her +mother's nose, but without that look of scorn which would come upon her +mother's face when the nostrils were inflated. And in that peculiar +shortness of the lower face she was the very echo of her mother. But the +mouth was smaller, the lips less full, and the dimple less exaggerated. +It was a fairer face to look upon,—fairer, perhaps, than her mother's +had ever been; but it was less expressive, and in it there was +infinitely less capability for anger, and perhaps less capability for +the agonising extremes of tenderness. But Kate was taller than her +mother, and seemed by her mother's side to be slender. Nevertheless she +was strong and healthy; and though she did not willingly join in those +longer walks, or expose herself to the weather as did her mother, there +was nothing feeble about her, nor was she averse to action. Life at +Ardkill Cottage was dull, and therefore she also was dull. Had she been +surrounded by friends, such as she had known in her halcyon school days +at Paris, she would have been the gayest of the gay.</p> + +<p>Her hair was dark as her mother's,—even darker. Seen by the side of +Miss O'Hara's, the mother's hair was certainly not black, but one could +hardly think that hair could be blacker than the daughter's. But hers +fell in curling clusters round her neck,—such clusters as now one never +sees. She would shake them in sport, and the room would seem to be full +of her locks. But she used to say herself to her mother that there was +already to be found a grey hair among them now and again, and she would +at times shew one, declaring that she would be an old woman before her +mother was middle-aged.</p> + +<p>Her life at Ardkill Cottage was certainly very dull. Memory did but +little for her, and she hardly knew how to hope. She would read, till +she had nearly learned all their books by heart, and would play such +tunes as she knew by the hour together, till the poor instrument, +subject to the sea air and away from any tuner's skill, was discordant +with its limp strings. But still, with all this, her mind would become +vacant and weary. "Mother," she would say, "is it always to be like +this?"</p> + +<p>"Not always, Kate," the mother once answered.</p> + +<p>"And when will it be changed?"</p> + +<p>"In a few days,—in a few hours, Kate."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, mother?"</p> + +<p>"That eternity is coming, with all its glory and happiness. If it were +not so, it would, indeed, be very bad."</p> + +<p>It may be doubted whether any human mind has been able to content itself +with hopes of eternity, till distress in some shape has embittered life. +The preachers preach very well,—well enough to leave many convictions +on the minds of men; but not well enough to leave that conviction. And +godly men live well,—but we never see them living as though such were +their conviction. And were it so, who would strive and moil in this +world? When the heart has been broken, and the spirit ground to the dust +by misery, then,—such is God's mercy—eternity suffices to make life +bearable. When Mrs. O'Hara spoke to her daughter of eternity, there was +but cold comfort in the word. The girl wanted something +here,—pleasures, companions, work, perhaps a lover. This had happened +before Lieutenant Neville of the 20th Hussars had been seen in those +parts.</p> + +<p>And the mother herself, in speaking as she had spoken, had, perhaps +unintentionally, indulged in a sarcasm on life which the daughter +certainly had not been intended to understand. "Yes;—it will always be +like this for you, for you, unfortunate one that you are. There is no +other further look-out in this life. You are one of the wretched to whom +the world offers nothing; and therefore,—as, being human, you must +hope,—build your hopes on eternity." Had the words been read clearly, +that would have been their true meaning. What could she do for her +child? Bread and meat, with a roof over her head, and raiment which +sufficed for life such as theirs, she could supply. The life would have +been well enough had it been their fate, and within their power, to earn +the bread and meat, the shelter and the raiment. But to have it, and +without work,—to have that, and nothing more, in absolute idleness, was +such misery that there was no resource left but eternity!</p> + +<p>And yet the mother when she looked at her daughter almost persuaded +herself that it need not be so. The girl was very lovely,—so lovely +that, were she but seen, men would quarrel for her as to who should have +her in his keeping. Such beauty, such life, such capability for giving +and receiving enjoyment could not have been intended to wither on a lone +cliff over the Atlantic! There must be fault somewhere. But yet to live +had been the first necessity; and life in cities, among the haunts of +men, had been impossible with such means as this woman possessed. When +she had called her daughter to her, and had sought peace under the roof +which her friend the priest had found for her, peace and a roof to +shelter her had been the extent of her desires. To be at rest, and +independent, with her child within her arms, had been all that the woman +asked of the gods. For herself it sufficed. For herself she was able to +acknowledge that the rest which she had at least obtained was infinitely +preferable to the unrest of her past life. But she soon learned,—as she +had not expected to learn before she made the experiment,—that that +which was to her peace, was to her daughter life within a tomb. "Mother, +is it always to be like this?"</p> + +<p>Had her child not carried the weight of good blood, had some small +grocer or country farmer been her father, she might have come down to +the neighbouring town of Ennistimon, and found a fitting mate there. +Would it not have been better so? From that weight of good blood,—or +gift, if it please us to call it,—what advantage would ever come to her +girl? It can not really be that all those who swarm in the world below +the bar of gentlehood are less blessed, or intended to be less blessed, +than the few who float in the higher air. As to real blessedness, does +it not come from fitness to the outer life and a sense of duty that +shall produce such fitness? Does any one believe that the Countess has a +greater share of happiness than the grocer's wife, or is less subject to +the miseries which flesh inherits? But such matters cannot be changed by +the will. This woman could not bid her daughter go and meet the +butcher's son on equal terms, or seek her friends among the milliners of +the neighbouring town. The burden had been imposed and must be borne, +even though it isolated them from all the world.</p> + +<p>"Mother, is it always to be like this?" Of course the mother knew what +was needed. It was needed that the girl should go out into the world and +pair, that she should find some shoulder on which she might lean, some +arm that would be strong to surround her, the heart of some man and the +work of some man to which she might devote herself. The girl, when she +asked her question, did not know this,—but the mother knew it. The +mother looked at her child and said that of all living creatures her +child was surely the loveliest. Was it not fit that she should go forth +and be loved;—that she should at any rate go forth and take her chance +with others? But how should such going forth be managed? And then,—were +there not dangers, terrible dangers,—dangers specially terrible to one +so friendless as her child? Had not she herself been wrecked among the +rocks, trusting herself to one who had been utterly unworthy,—loving +one who had been utterly unlovely? Men so often are as ravenous wolves, +merciless, rapacious, without hearts, full of greed, full of lust, +looking on female beauty as prey, regarding the love of woman and her +very life as a toy! Were she higher in the world there might be safety. +Were she lower there might be safety. But how could she send her girl +forth into the world without sending her certainly among the wolves? And +yet that piteous question was always sounding in her ears. "Mother, is +it always to be like this?"</p> + +<p>Then Lieutenant Neville had appeared upon the scene, dressed in a +sailor's jacket and trowsers, with a sailor's cap upon his head, with a +loose handkerchief round his neck and his hair blowing to the wind. In +the eyes of Kate O'Hara he was an Apollo. In the eyes of any girl he +must have seemed to be as good-looking a fellow as ever tied a sailor's +knot. He had made acquaintance with Father Marty at Liscannor, and the +priest had dined with him at Ennis. There had been a return visit, and +the priest, perhaps innocently, had taken him up on the cliffs. There he +had met the two ladies, and our hero had been introduced to Kate O'Hara.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-6"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter VI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">I'll go bail she likes it.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It might be that the young man was a ravenous wolf, but his manners were +not wolfish. Had Mrs. O'Hara been a princess, supreme in her own rights, +young Neville could not have treated her or her daughter with more +respect. At first Kate had wondered at him, but had said but little. She +had listened to him, as he talked to her mother and the priest about the +cliffs and the birds and the seals he had shot, and she had felt that it +was this, something like this, that was needed to make life so sweet +that as yet there need be no longing, no thought, for eternity. It was +not that all at once she loved him, but she felt that he was a thing to +love. His very appearance on the cliff, and the power of thinking of him +when he was gone, for a while banished all tedium from her life. "Why +should you shoot the poor gulls?" That was the first question she asked +him; and she asked it hardly in tenderness to the birds, but because +with the unconscious cunning of her sex she understood that tenderness +in a woman is a charm in the eyes of a man.</p> + +<p>"Only because it is so difficult to get at them," said Fred. "I believe +there is no other reason,—except that one must shoot something."</p> + +<p>"But why must you?" asked Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"To justify one's guns. A man takes to shooting as a matter of course. +It's a kind of institution. There ain't any tigers, and so we shoot +birds. And in this part of the world there ain't any pheasants, and so +we shoot sea-gulls."</p> + +<p>"Excellently argued," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"Or rather one don't, for it's impossible to get at them. But I'll tell +you what, Father Marty,"—Neville had already assumed the fashion of +calling the priest by his familiar priestly name, as strangers do much +more readily than they who belong to the country,—"I'll tell you what, +Father Marty,—I've shot one of the finest seals I ever saw, and if +Morony can get him at low water, I'll send the skin up to Mrs. O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"And send the oil to me," said the priest. "There's some use in shooting +a seal. But you can do nothing with those birds,—unless you get enough +of their feathers to make a bed."</p> + +<p>This was in October, and before the end of November Fred Neville was, +after a fashion, intimate at the cottage. He had never broken bread at +Mrs. O'Hara's table; nor, to tell the truth, had any outspoken, clearly +intelligible word of love been uttered by him to the girl. But he had +been seen with them often enough, and the story had become sufficiently +current at Liscannor to make Lady Mary Quin think that she was justified +in sending her bad news to her friend Lady Scroope. This she did not do +till Fred had been induced, with some difficulty, to pass a night at +Castle Quin. Lady Mary had not scrupled to ask a question about Miss +O'Hara, and had thought the answer very unsatisfactory. "I don't know +what makes them live there, I'm sure. I should have thought you would +have known that," replied Neville, in answer to her question.</p> + +<p>"They are perfect mysteries to us," said Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"I think that Miss O'Hara is the prettiest girl I ever saw in my life," +said Fred boldly, "and I should say the handsomest woman, if it were not +that there may be a question between her and her mother."</p> + +<p>"You are enthusiastic," said Lady Mary Quin, and after that the letter +to Scroope was written.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the seal-skin was cured,—not perhaps in the very best +fashion, and was sent up to Miss O'Hara, with Mr. Neville's compliments. +The skin of a seal that has been shot by the man and not purchased is a +present that any lady may receive from any gentleman. The most prudent +mamma that ever watched over her dovecote with Argus eyes, permitting no +touch of gallantry to come near it, could hardly insist that a seal-skin +in the rough should be sent back to the donor. Mrs. O'Hara was by no +means that most prudent mamma, and made, not only the seal-skin, but the +donor also welcome. Must it not be that by some chance advent such as +this that the change must be effected in her girl's life, should any +change ever be made? And her girl was good. Why should she fear for her? +The man had been brought there by her only friend, the priest, and why +should she fear him? And yet she did fear; and though her face was never +clouded when her girl spoke of the new comer, though she always +mentioned Captain Neville's name as though she herself liked the man, +though she even was gracious to him when he shewed himself near the +cottage,—still there was a deep dread upon her when her eyes rested +upon him, when her thoughts flew to him. Men are wolves to women, and +utterly merciless when feeding high their lust. 'Twas thus her own +thoughts shaped themselves, though she never uttered a syllable to her +daughter in disparagement of the man. This was the girl's chance. Was +she to rob her of it? And yet, of all her duties, was not the duty of +protecting her girl the highest and the dearest that she owned? If the +man meant well by her girl, she would wash his feet with her hair, kiss +the hem of his garments, and love the spot on which she had first seen +him stand like a young sea-god. But if evil,—if he meant evil to her +girl, if he should do evil to her Kate,—then she knew that there was so +much of the tiger within her bosom as would serve to rend him limb from +limb. With such thoughts as these she had hardly ever left them +together. Nor had such leaving together seemed to be desired by them. As +for Kate she certainly would have shunned it. She thought of Fred +Neville during all her waking moments, and dreamed of him at night. His +coming had certainly been to her as the coming of a god. Though he did +not appear on the cliffs above once or twice a week, and had done so but +for a few weeks, his presence had altered the whole tenour of her life. +She never asked her mother now whether it was to be always like this. +There was a freshness about her life which her mother understood at +once. She was full of play, reading less than was her wont, but still +with no sense of tedium. Of the man in his absence she spoke but seldom, +and when his name was on her lips she would jest with it,—as though the +coming of a young embryo lord to shoot gulls on their coast was quite a +joke. The seal-skin which he had given her was very dear to her, and she +was at no pains to hide her liking; but of the man as a lover she had +never seemed to think.</p> + +<p>Nor did she think of him as a lover. It is not by such thinking that +love grows. Nor did she ever tell herself that while he was there, +coming on one day and telling them that his boat would be again there on +another, life was blessed to her, and that, therefore, when he should +have left them, her life would be accursed to her. She knew nothing of +all this. But yet she thought of him, and dreamed of him, and her young +head was full of little plans with every one of which he was connected.</p> + +<p>And it may almost be said that Fred Neville was as innocent in the +matter as was the girl. It is true, indeed, that men are merciless as +wolves to women,—that they become so, taught by circumstances and +trained by years; but the young man who begins by meaning to be a wolf +must be bad indeed. Fred Neville had no such meaning. On his behalf it +must be acknowledged that he had no meaning whatever when he came again +and again to Ardkill. Had he examined himself in the matter he would +have declared that he liked the mother quite as well as the daughter. +When Lady Mary Quin had thrown at him her very blunt arrow he had +defended himself on that plea. Accident, and the spirit of adventure, +had thrust these ladies in his path, and no doubt he liked them the +better because they did not live as other people lived. Their solitude, +the close vicinity of the ocean, the feeling that in meeting them none +of the ordinary conventional usages of society were needed, the wildness +and the strangeness of the scene, all had charms which he admitted to +himself. And he knew that the girl was very lovely. Of course he said so +to himself and to others. To take delight in beauty is assumed to be the +nature of a young man, and this young man was not one to wish to differ +from others in that respect. But when he went back to spend his +Christmas at Scroope, he had never told even himself that he intended to +be her lover.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Mrs. O'Hara," he said, a day or two before he left Ennis.</p> + +<p>"So you're going?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I'm off. The orders from home are imperative. One has to cut +one's lump of Christmas beef and also one's lump of Christmas pudding. +It is our family religion, you know."</p> + +<p>"What a happiness to have a family to visit!"</p> + +<p>"It's all very well, I suppose. I don't grumble. Only it's a bore going +away, somehow."</p> + +<p>"You are coming back to Ennis?" asked Kate.</p> + +<p>"Coming back;—I should think so. Barney Morony wouldn't be quite so +quiet if I was not coming back. I'm to dine with Father Marty at +Liscannor on the 15th of January, to meet another priest from Milltown +Malbay,—the best fellow in the world he says."</p> + +<p>"That's Father Creech;—not half such a good fellow, Mr. Neville, as +Father Marty himself."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't be better. However, I shall be here then, and if I have any +luck you shall have another skin of the same size by that time." Then he +shook hands with them both, and there was a feeling that the time would +be blank till he should be again there in his sailor's jacket.</p> + +<p>When the second week in January had come Mrs. O'Hara heard that the +gallant young officer of the 20th was back in Ennis, and she well +remembered that he had told her of his intention to dine with the +priest. On the Sunday she saw Mr. Marty after mass, and managed to have +a few words with him on the road while Kate returned to the cottage +alone. "So your friend Mr. Neville has come back to Ennis," she said.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that he had come. He promised to dine with me on +Thursday,—only I think nothing of promises from these young fellows."</p> + +<p>"He told me he was to be with you."</p> + +<p>"More power to him. He'll be welcome. I'm getting to be a very ould man, +Misthress O'Hara; but I'm not so ould but I like to have the young ones +near me."</p> + +<p>"It is pleasant to see a bright face like his."</p> + +<p>"That's thrue for you, Misthress O'Hara. I like to see 'em bright and +ganial. I don't know that I ever shot so much as a sparrow, meself, but +I love to hear them talk of their shootings, and huntings, and the like +of that. I've taken a fancy to that boy, and he might do pretty much as +he plazes wid me."</p> + +<p>"And I too have taken a fancy to him, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"Shure and how could you help it?"</p> + +<p>"But he mustn't do as he pleases with me." Father Marty looked up into +her face as though he did not understand her. "If I were alone, as you +are, I could afford, like you, to indulge in the pleasure of a bright +face. Only in that case he would not care to let me see it."</p> + +<p>"Bedad thin, Misthress O'Hara, I don't know a fairer face to look on in +all Corcomroe than your own,—that is when you're not in your tantrums, +Misthress O'Hara." The priest was a privileged person, and could say +what he liked to his friend; and she understood that a priest might say +without fault what would be very faulty if it came from any one else.</p> + +<p>"I'm in earnest now, Father Marty. What shall we do if our darling Kate +thinks of this young man more than is good for her?" Father Marty raised +his hat and began to scratch his head. "If you like to look at the fair +face of a handsome lad—"</p> + +<p>"I do thin, Misthress O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"Must not she like it also?"</p> + +<p>"I'll go bail she likes it," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"And what will come next?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, Misthress O'Hara. Would you want to keep her +from even seeing a man at all?"</p> + +<p>"God forbid."</p> + +<p>"It's not the way to make them happy, nor yet safe. If it's to be that +way wid her, she'd better be a nun all out; and I'd be far from +proposing that to your Kate."</p> + +<p>"She is hardly fit for so holy a life."</p> + +<p>"And why should she? I niver like seeing too many of 'em going that way, +and them that are prittiest are the last I'd send there. But if not a +nun, it stands to reason she must take chance with the rest of 'em. +She's been too much shut up already. Let her keep her heart till he asks +her for it; but if he does ask her, why shouldn't she be his wife? How +many of them young officers take Irish wives home with 'em every year. +Only for them, our beauties wouldn't have a chance."</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-7"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter VII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Father Marty's Hospitality.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Such was the philosophy, or, perhaps, it may be better said such was the +humanity of Father Marty! But in encouraging Mrs. O'Hara to receive this +dangerous visitor he had by no means spoken without consideration. In +one respect we must abandon Father Marty to the judgment and censure of +fathers and mothers. The whole matter looked at from Lady Scroope's +point of view was no doubt very injurious to the priest's character. He +regarded a stranger among them, such as was Fred Neville, as fair spoil, +as a Philistine to seize whom and capture him for life on behalf of any +Irish girl would be a great triumph;—a spoiling of the Egyptian to the +accomplishment of which he would not hesitate to lend his priestly +assistance, the end to be accomplished, of course, being marriage. For +Lord Scroope and his family and his blood and his religious fanaticism +he could entertain no compassion whatever. Father Marty was no great +politician, and desired no rebellion against England. Even in the days +of O'Connell and repeal he had been but luke-warm. But justice for +Ireland in the guise of wealthy English husbands for pretty Irish girls +he desired with all his heart. He was true to his own faith, to the +backbone, but he entertained no prejudice against a good looking +Protestant youth when a fortunate marriage was in question. So little +had been given to the Irish in these days, that they were bound to take +what they could get. Lord Scroope and the Countess, had they known the +priest's views on this matter, would have regarded him as an +unscrupulous intriguing ruffian, prepared to destroy the happiness of a +noble family by a wicked scheme. But his views of life, as judged from +the other side, admitted of some excuse. As for a girl breaking her +heart, he did not, perhaps, much believe in such a catastrophe. Of a +sore heart a girl must run the chance,—as also must a man. That young +men do go about promising marriage and not keeping their promise, he +knew well. None could know that better than he did, for he was the +repository of half the love secrets in his parish. But all that was part +of the evil coming from the fall of Adam, and must be endured +till,—till the Pope should have his own again, and be able to set all +things right. In the meantime young women must do the best they could to +keep their lovers;—and should one lover break away, then must the +deserted one use her experience towards getting a second. But how was a +girl to have a lover at all, if she were never allowed to see a man? He +had been bred a priest from his youth upwards, and knew nothing of love; +but nevertheless it was a pain to him to see a young girl, good-looking, +healthy, fit to be the mother of children, pine away, unsought for, +uncoupled,—as it would be a pain to see a fruit grow ripe upon the +tree, and then fall and perish for the want of plucking. His philosophy +was perhaps at fault, and it may be that his humanity was unrefined. But +he was human to the core,—and, at any rate, unselfish. That there might +be another danger was a fact that he looked full in the face. But what +victory can be won without danger? And he thought that he knew this +girl, who three times a year would open her whole heart to him in +confession. He was sure that she was not only innocent, but good. And of +the man, too, he was prone to believe good;—though who on such a +question ever trusts a man's goodness? There might be danger and there +must be discretion; but surely it would not be wise, because evil was +possible, that such a one as Kate O'Hara should be kept from all that +intercourse without which a woman is only half a woman! He had +considered it all, though the reader may perhaps think that as a +minister of the gospel he had come to a strange conclusion. He himself, +in his own defence, would have said that having served many years in the +ministry he had learned to know the nature of men and women.</p> + +<p>Mrs. O'Hara said not a word to Kate of the doctrines which the priest +had preached, but she found herself encouraged to mention their new +friend's name to the girl. During Fred's absence hardly a word had been +spoken concerning him in the cottage. Mrs. O'Hara had feared the +subject, and Kate had thought of him much too often to allow his name to +be on her tongue. But now as they sat after dinner over their peat fire +the mother began the subject. "Mr. Neville is to dine with Father Marty +on Thursday."</p> + +<p>"Is he, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Barney Morony was telling me that he was back at Ennis. Barney had to +go in and see him about the boat."</p> + +<p>"He won't go boating such weather as this, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It seems that he means it. The winds are not so high now as they were +in October, and the men understand well when the sea will be high."</p> + +<p>"It is frightful to think of anybody being in one of those little boats +now." Kate ever since she had lived in these parts had seen the canoes +from Liscannor and Lahinch about in the bay, summer and winter, and had +never found anything dreadful in it before.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he'll come up here again," said the mother; but to this Kate +made no answer. "He is to sleep at Father Marty's I fancy, and he can +hardly do that without paying us a visit."</p> + +<p>"The days are short and he'll want all his time for the boating," said +Kate with a little pout.</p> + +<p>"He'll find half-an-hour, I don't doubt. Shall you be glad to see him, +Kate?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, mother. One is glad almost to see any one up here. It's +as good as a treat when old Corcoran comes up with the turf."</p> + +<p>"But Mr. Neville is not like old Corcoran, Kate."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least, mother. I do like Mr. Neville better than Corcoran, +because you see with Corcoran the excitement is very soon over. And +Corcoran hasn't very much to say for himself."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Neville has?"</p> + +<p>"He says a great deal more to you than he does to me, mother."</p> + +<p>"I like him very much. I should like him very much indeed if there were +no danger in his coming."</p> + +<p>"What danger?"</p> + +<p>"That he should steal your heart away, my own, my darling, my child." +Then Kate, instead of answering, got up and threw herself at her +mother's knees, and buried her face in her mother's lap, and Mrs. O'Hara +knew that that act of larceny had already been perpetrated.</p> + +<p>And how should it have been otherwise? But of such stealing it is always +better that no mention should be made till the theft has been sanctified +by free gift. Till the loss has been spoken of and acknowledged, it may +in most cases be recovered. Had Neville never returned from Scroope, and +his name never been mentioned by the mother to her daughter, it may be +that Kate O'Hara would not have known that she had loved him. For a +while she would have been sad. For a month or two, as she lay wakeful in +her bed she would have thought of her dreams. But she would have thought +of them as only dreams. She would have been sure that she could have +loved him had any fair ending been possible for such love; but she would +have assured herself that she had been on her guard, and that she was +safe in spite of her dreams. But now the flame in her heart had been +confessed and in some degree sanctioned, and she would foster it rather +than quench it. Even should such a love be capable of no good fortune, +would it not be better to have a few weeks of happy dreaming than a +whole life that should be passionless? What could she do with her own +heart there, living in solitude, with none but the sea gulls to look at +her? Was it not infinitely better that she should give it away to such a +young god as this than let it feed upon itself miserably? Yes, she would +give it away;—but might it not be that the young god would not take the +gift?</p> + +<p>On the third day after his arrival at Ennis, Neville was at Liscannor +with the priest. He little dreamed that the fact of his dining and +sleeping at Father Marty's house would be known to the ladies at Castle +Quin, and communicated from them to his aunt at Scroope Manor. Not that +he would have been deterred from accepting the priest's hospitality or +frightened into accepting that of the noble owner of the castle, had he +known precisely all that would be written about it. He would not have +altered his conduct in a matter in which he considered himself entitled +to regulate it, in obedience to any remonstrances from Scroope Manor. +Objections to the society of a Roman Catholic priest because of his +religion he would have regarded as old-fashioned fanaticism. As for +Earls and their daughters he would no doubt have enough of them in his +future life, and this special Earl and his daughters had not fascinated +him. He had chosen to come to Ireland with his regiment for this year +instead of at once assuming the magnificence of his position in England, +in order that he might indulge the spirit of adventure before he assumed +the duties of life. And it seemed to him that in dining and sleeping at +an Irish priest's house on the shores of the Atlantic, with the prospect +of seal shooting and seeing a very pretty girl on the following morning, +he was indulging that spirit properly. But Lady Mary Quin thought that +he was misbehaving himself and taking to very bad courses. When she +heard that he was to sleep at the priest's house, she was quite sure +that he would visit Mrs. O'Hara on the next day.</p> + +<p>The dinner at the priest's was very jovial. There was a bottle of sherry +and there was a bottle of port, procured, chiefly for the sake of +appearance, from a grocer's shop at Ennistimon;—but the whiskey had +come from Cork and had been in the priest's keeping for the last dozen +years. He good-humouredly acknowledged that the wine was nothing, but +expressed an opinion that Mr. Neville might find it difficult to beat +the "sperrits." "It's thrue for you, Father Marty," said the rival +priest from Milltown Malbay, "and it's you that should know good +sperrits from bad if ony man in Ireland does."</p> + +<p>"'Deed thin," replied the priest of Liscannor, "barring the famine +years, I've mixed two tumblers of punch for meself every day these forty +years, and if it was all together it'd be about enough to give Mr. +Neville a day's sale-shooting on in his canoe." Immediately after dinner +Neville was invited to light his cigar, and everything was easy, +comfortable, and to a certain degree adventurous. There were the two +priests, and a young Mr. Finucane from Ennistimon,—who however was not +quite so much to Fred's taste as the elder men. Mr. Finucane wore +various rings, and talked rather largely about his father's demesne. But +the whole thing was new, and by no means dull. As Neville had not left +Ennis till late in the day,—after what he called a hard day's work in +the warrior line,—they did not sit down till past eight o'clock; nor +did any one talk of moving till past midnight. Fred certainly made for +himself more than two glasses of punch, and he would have sworn that the +priest had done so also. Father Marty, however, was said by those who +knew him best to be very rigid in this matter, and to have the faculty +of making his drink go a long way. Young Mr. Finucane took three or +four,—perhaps five or six,—and then volunteered to join Fred Neville +in a day's shooting under the rocks. But Fred had not been four years in +a cavalry regiment without knowing how to protect himself in such a +difficulty as this. "The canoe will only hold myself and the man," said +Fred, with perfect simplicity. Mr. Finucane drew himself up haughtily +and did not utter another word for the next five minutes. Nevertheless +he took a most affectionate leave of the young officer when half an hour +after midnight he was told by Father Marty that it was time for him to +go home. Father Creech also took his leave, and then Fred and the priest +of Liscannor were left sitting together over the embers of the turf +fire. "You'll be going up to see our friends at Ardkill to-morrow," said +the priest.</p> + +<p>"Likely enough, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"In course you will. Sorrow a doubt of that." Then the priest paused.</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't I?" asked Neville.</p> + +<p>"I'm not saying that you shouldn't, Mr. Neville. It wouldn't be civil +nor yet nathural after knowing them as you have done. If you didn't go +they'd be thinking there was a rason for your staying away, and that'd +be worse than all. But, Mr. Neville—"</p> + +<p>"Out with it, Father Marty." Fred knew what was coming fairly well, and +he also had thought a good deal upon the matter.</p> + +<p>"Them two ladies, Mr. Neville, live up there all alone, with sorrow a +human being in the world to protect them,—barring myself."</p> + +<p>"Why should they want protection?"</p> + +<p>"Just because they're lone women, and because one of them is very young +and very beautiful."</p> + +<p>"They are both beautiful," said Neville.</p> + +<p>"'Deed and they are,—both of 'em. The mother can look afther herself, +and after a fashion, too, she can look afther her daughter. I shouldn't +like to be the man to come in her way when he'd once decaived her child. +You're a young man, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"That's my misfortune."</p> + +<p>"And one who stands very high in the world. They tell me you're to be a +great lord some day."</p> + +<p>"Either that or a little one," said Neville, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Anyways you'll be a rich man with a handle to your name. To me, living +here in this out of the way parish, a lord doesn't matter that." And +Father Marty gave a fillip with his fingers. "The only lord that matters +me is me bishop. But with them women yonder, the title and the money and +all the grandeur goes a long way. It has been so since the world began. +In riding a race against you they carry weight from the very awe which +the name of an English Earl brings with it."</p> + +<p>"Why should they ride a race against me?"</p> + +<p>"Why indeed,—unless you ride a race against them! You wouldn't wish to +injure that young thing as isn't yet out of her teens?"</p> + +<p>"God forbid that I should injure her."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that you're the man to do it with your eyes open, Mr. +Neville. If you can't spake her fair in the way of making her your wife, +don't spake her fair at all. That's the long and the short of it, Mr. +Neville. You see what they are. They're ladies, if there is a lady +living in the Queen's dominions. That young thing is as beautiful as +Habe, as innocent as a sleeping child, as soft as wax to take +impression. What armour has she got against such a one as you?"</p> + +<p>"She shall not need armour."</p> + +<p>"If you're a gentleman, Mr. Neville,—as I know you are,—you will not +give her occasion to find out her own wakeness. Well, if it isn't past +one I'm a sinner. It's Friday morning and I mus'n't ate a morsel myself, +poor papist that I am; but I'll get you a bit of cold mate and a drop of +grog in a moment if you'll take it." Neville, however, refused the +hospitable offer.</p> + +<p>"Father Marty," he said, speaking with a zeal which perhaps owed +something of its warmth to the punch, "you shall find that I am a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I'm shure of it, my boy."</p> + +<p>"If I can do no good to your friend, at any rate I will do no harm to +her."</p> + +<p>"That is spoken like a Christian, Mr. Neville,—which I take to be a +higher name even than gentleman."</p> + +<p>"There's my hand upon it," said Fred, enthusiastically. After that he +went to bed.</p> + +<p>On the following morning the priest was very jolly at breakfast, and in +speaking of the ladies at Ardkill made no allusion whatever to the +conversation of the previous evening. "Ah no," he said, when Neville +proposed that they should walk up together to the cottage before he went +down to his boat. "What's the good of an ould man like me going +bothering? And, signs on, I'm going into Ennistimon to see Pat O'Leary +about the milk he's sending to our Union. The thief of the world,—it's +wathering it he is before he sends it. Nothing kills me, Mr. Neville, +but when I hear of all them English vices being brought over to this +poor suffering innocent counthry."</p> + +<p>Neville had decided on the advice of Barney Morony, that he would on +this morning go down southward along the coast to Drumdeirg rock, in the +direction away from the Hag's Head and from Mrs. O'Hara's cottage; and +he therefore postponed his expedition till after his visit. When Father +Marty started to Ennistimon to look after that sinner O'Leary, Fred +Neville, all alone, turned the other way to Ardkill.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-8"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter VIII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">I didn't want you to go.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Mrs. O'Hara had known that he would come, and Kate had known it; and, +though it would be unfair to say that they were waiting for him, it is +no more than true to say that they were ready for him. "We are so glad +to see you again," said Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"Not more glad than I am to find myself here once more."</p> + +<p>"So you dined and slept at Father Marty's last night. What will the +grand people say at the Castle?"</p> + +<p>"As I sha'n't hear what they say, it won't matter much! Life is not long +enough, Mrs. O'Hara, for putting up with disagreeable people."</p> + +<p>"Was it pleasant last night?"</p> + +<p>"Very pleasant. I don't think Father Creech is half as good as Father +Marty, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," exclaimed Kate.</p> + +<p>"But he's a jolly sort of fellow, too. And there was a Mr. Finucane +there,—a very grand fellow."</p> + +<p>"We know no one about here but the priests," said Mrs. O'Hara, laughing. +"Anybody might think that the cottage was a little convent."</p> + +<p>"Then I oughtn't to come."</p> + +<p>"Well, no, I suppose not. Only foreigners are admitted to see convents +sometimes. You're going after the poor seals again?"</p> + +<p>"Barney says the tide is too high for the seals now. We're going to +Drumdeirg."</p> + +<p>"What,—to those little rocks?" asked Kate.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—to the rocks. I wish you'd both come with me."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go in one of those canoes all out there for the world," said +Kate.</p> + +<p>"What can be the use of it?" asked Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"I've got to get the feathers for Father Marty's bed, you know. I +haven't shot as many yet as would make a pillow for a cradle."</p> + +<p>"The poor innocent gulls!"</p> + +<p>"The poor innocent chickens and ducks, if you come to that, Miss +O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"But they're of use."</p> + +<p>"And so will Father Marty's feather bed be of use. Good-bye, Mrs. +O'Hara. Good-bye, Miss O'Hara. I shall be down again next week, and +we'll have that other seal."</p> + +<p>There was nothing in this. So far, at any rate, he had not broken his +word to the priest. He had not spoken a word to Kate O'Hara that might +not and would not have been said had the priest been present. But how +lovely she was; and what a thrill ran through his arm as he held her +hand in his for a moment. Where should he find a girl like that in +England with such colour, such eyes, such hair, such innocence,—and +then with so sweet a voice?</p> + +<p>As he hurried down the hill to the beach at Coolroone, where Morony was +to meet him with the boat, he could not keep himself from comparisons +between Kate O'Hara and Sophie Mellerby. No doubt his comparisons were +made very incorrectly,—and unfairly; but they were all in favour of the +girl who lived out of the world in solitude on the cliffs of Moher. And +why should he not be free to seek a wife where he pleased? In such an +affair as that,—an affair of love in which the heart and the heart +alone should be consulted, what right could any man have to dictate to +him? Certain ideas occurred to him which his friends in England would +have called wild, democratic, revolutionary and damnable, but which, +owing perhaps to the Irish air and the Irish whiskey and the spirit of +adventure fostered by the vicinity of rocks and ocean, appeared to him +at the moment to be not only charming but reasonable also. No doubt he +was born to high state and great rank, but nothing that his rank and +state could give him was so sweet as his liberty. To be free to choose +for himself in all things, was the highest privilege of man. What +pleasure could he have in a love which should be selected for him by +such a woman as his aunt? Then he gave the reins to some confused notion +of an Irish bride, a wife who should be half a wife and half not,—whom +he would love and cherish tenderly but of whose existence no English +friend should be aware. How could he more charmingly indulge his spirit +of adventure than by some such arrangement as this?</p> + +<p>He knew that he had given a pledge to his uncle to contract no marriage +that would be derogatory to his position. He knew also that he had given +a pledge to the priest that he would do no harm to Kate O'Hara. He felt +that he was bound to keep each pledge. As for that sweet, darling girl, +would he not sooner lose his life than harm her? But he was aware that +an adventurous life was always a life of difficulties, and that for such +as live adventurous lives the duty of overcoming difficulties was of all +duties the chief. Then he got into his canoe, and, having succeeded in +killing two gulls on the Drumdeirg rocks, thought that for that day he +had carried out his purpose as a man of adventure very well.</p> + +<p>During February and March he was often on the coast, and hardly one +visit did he make which was not followed by a letter from Castle Quin to +Scroope Manor. No direct accusation of any special fault was made +against him in consequence. No charge was brought of an improper +hankering after any special female, because Lady Scroope found herself +bound in conscience not to commit her correspondent; but very heavy +injunctions were laid upon him as to his general conduct, and he was +eagerly entreated to remember his great duty and to come home and settle +himself in England. In the mean time the ties which bound him to the +coast of Clare were becoming stronger and stronger every day. He had +ceased now to care much about seeing Father Marty, and would come, when +the tide was low, direct from Lahinch to the strand beneath the cliffs, +from whence there was a path through the rocks up to Ardkill. And there +he would remain for hours,—having his gun with him, but caring little +for his gun. He told himself that he loved the rocks and the wildness of +the scenery, and the noise of the ocean, and the whirring of the birds +above and below him. It was certainly true that he loved Kate O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"Neville, you must answer me a question," said the mother to him one +morning when they were out together, looking down upon the Atlantic when +the wind had lulled after a gale.</p> + +<p>"Ask it then," said he.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of all this? What is Kate to believe?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she believes that I love her better than all the world +besides,—that she is more to me than all the world can give or take. I +have told her at least, so often, that if she does not believe it she is +little better than a Jew."</p> + +<p>"You must not joke with me now. If you knew what it was to have one +child and only that you would not joke with me."</p> + +<p>"I am quite in earnest. I am not joking."</p> + +<p>"And what is to be the end of it?"</p> + +<p>"The end of it! How can I say? My uncle is an old man,—very old, very +infirm, very good, very prejudiced, and broken-hearted because his own +son, who died, married against his will."</p> + +<p>"You would not liken my Kate to such as that woman was?"</p> + +<p>"Your Kate! She is my Kate as much as yours. Such a thought as that +would be an injury to me as deep as to you. You know that to me my Kate, +our Kate, is all excellence,—as pure and good as she is bright and +beautiful. As God is above us she shall be my wife,—but I cannot take +her to Scroope Manor as my wife while my uncle lives."</p> + +<p>"Why should any one be ashamed of her at Scroope Manor?"</p> + +<p>"Because they are fools. But I cannot cure them of their folly. My uncle +thinks that I should marry one of my own class."</p> + +<p>"Class;—what class? He is a gentleman, I presume, and she is a lady."</p> + +<p>"That is very true;—so true that I myself shall act upon the truth. But +I will not make his last years wretched. He is a Protestant, and you are +Catholics."</p> + +<p>"What is that? Are not ever so many of your lords Catholics? Were they +not all Catholics before Protestants were ever thought of?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. O'Hara, I have told you that to me she is as high and good and +noble as though she were a Princess. And I have told you that she shall +be my wife. If that does not content you, I cannot help it. It contents +her. I owe much to her."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you do;—everything."</p> + +<p>"But I owe much to him also. I do not think that you can gain anything +by quarrelling with me."</p> + +<p>She paused for a while before she answered him, looking into his face +the while with something of the ferocity of a tigress. So intent was her +gaze that his eyes quailed beneath it. "By the living God," she said, +"if you injure my child I will have the very blood from your heart."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless she allowed him to return alone to the house, where she +knew that he would find her girl. "Kate," he said, going into the +parlour in which she was sitting idle at the window,—"dear Kate."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I'm off."</p> + +<p>"You are always—off, as you call it."</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes. But I'm not on and off, as the saying is."</p> + +<p>"Why should you go away now?"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose a soldier has got nothing to do? You never calculate, I +think, that Ennis is about three-and-twenty miles from here. Come, Kate, +be nice with me before I go."</p> + +<p>"How can I be nice when you are going? I always think when I see you go +that you will never come back to me again. I don't know why you should +come back to such a place as this?"</p> + +<p>"Because, as it happens, the place holds what I love best in all the +world." Then he lifted her from her chair, and put his arm round her +waist. "Do you not know that I love you better than all that the world +holds?"</p> + +<p>"How can I know it?"</p> + +<p>"Because I swear it to you."</p> + +<p>"I think that you like me—a little. Oh Fred, if you were to go and +never to come back I should die. Do you remember Mariana? 'My life is +dreary. He cometh not,' she said. She said, 'I am aweary, aweary; I +would that I were dead!' Do you remember that? What has mother been +saying to you?"</p> + +<p>"She has been bidding me to do you no harm. It was not necessary. I +would sooner pluck out my eye than hurt you. My uncle is an old man,—a +very old man. She cannot understand that it is better that we should +wait, than that I should have to think hereafter that I had killed him +by my unkindness."</p> + +<p>"But he wants you to love some other girl."</p> + +<p>"He cannot make me do that. All the world cannot change my heart, Kate. +If you can not trust me for that, then you do not love me as I love +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred, you know I love you. I do trust you. Of course I can wait, if +I only know that you will come back to me. I only want to see you." He +was now leaning over her, and her cheek was pressed close to his. Though +she was talking of Mariana, and pretending to fear future misery, all +this was Elysium to her,—the very joy of Paradise. She could sit and +think of him now from morning to night, and never find the day an hour +too long. She could remember the words in which he made his oaths to +her, and cherish the sweet feeling of his arm round her body. To have +her cheek close to his was godlike. And then when he would kiss her, +though she would rebuke him, it was as though all heaven were in the +embrace.</p> + +<p>"And now good-bye. One kiss, darling."</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Not a kiss when I am going?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want you to go. Oh, Fred! Well;—there. Good-bye, my own, own, +own beloved one. You'll be here on Monday?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—on Monday."</p> + +<p>"And be in the boat four hours, and here four minutes. Don't I know +you?" But he went without answering this last accusation.</p> + +<p>"What shall we do, Kate, if he deceives us?" said the mother that +evening.</p> + +<p>"Die. But I am sure he will not deceive us."</p> + +<p>Neville, as he made his way down to Liscannor, where his gig was waiting +for him, did ask himself some serious questions about his adventure. +What must be the end of it? And had he not been imprudent? It may be +declared on his behalf that no idea of treachery to the girl ever +crossed his mind. He loved her too thoroughly for that. He did love +her—not perhaps as she loved him. He had many things in the world to +occupy his mind, and she had but one. He was almost a god to her. She to +him was simply the sweetest girl that he had ever as yet seen, and one +who had that peculiar merit that she was all his own. No other man had +ever pressed her hand, or drank her sweet breath. Was not such a love a +thousand times sweeter than that of some girl who had been hurried from +drawing-room to drawing-room, and perhaps from one vow of constancy to +another for half-a-dozen years? The adventure was very sweet. But how +was it to end? His uncle might live these ten years, and he had not the +heart,—nor yet the courage,—to present her to his uncle as his bride.</p> + +<p>When he reached Ennis that evening there was a despatch marked +"Immediate," from his aunt Lady Scroope. "Your uncle is very +ill;—dangerously ill, we fear. His great desire is to see you once +again. Pray come without losing an hour."</p> + +<p>Early on the following morning he started for Dublin, but before he went +to bed that night he not only wrote to Kate O'Hara, but enclosed the +note from his aunt. He could understand that though the tidings of his +uncle's danger was a shock to him there would be something in the +tidings which would cause joy to the two inmates of Ardkill Cottage. +When he sent that letter with his own, he was of course determined that +he would marry Kate O'Hara as soon as he was a free man.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-9"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter IX.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Fred Neville Returns to Scroope.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The suddenness of the demand made for the heir's presence at Scroope was +perhaps not owing to the Earl's illness alone. The Earl, indeed, was +ill,—so ill that he thought himself that his end was very near; but his +illness had been brought about chiefly by the misery to which he had +been subjected by the last despatch from Castle Quin to the Countess. "I +am most unwilling," she said, "to make mischief or to give unnecessary +pain to you or to Lord Scroope; but I think it my duty to let you know +that the general opinion about here is that Mr. Neville shall make Miss +O'Hara his wife,—<i>if he has not done so already</i>. The most +dangerous feature in the whole matter is that it is all managed by the +priest of this parish, a most unscrupulous person, who would do +anything,—he is so daring. We have known him many many years, and +we know to what +lengths he would go. The laws have been so altered in favour of the +Roman Catholics, and against the Protestants, that a priest can do +almost just what he likes. I do not think that he would scruple for an +instant to marry them if he thought it likely that his prey would escape +from him. My own opinion is that there has been no marriage as yet, +though I know that others think that there has been." The expression of +this opinion from "others" which had reached Lady Mary's ears consisted +of an assurance from her own Protestant lady's maid that that wicked, +guzzling old Father Marty would marry the young couple as soon as look +at them, and very likely had done so already. "I cannot say," continued +Lady Mary, "that I actually know anything against the character of Miss +O'Hara. Of the mother we have very strange stories here. They live in a +little cottage with one maid-servant, almost upon the cliffs, and nobody +knows anything about them except the priest. If he should be seduced +into a marriage, nothing could be more unfortunate." Lady Mary probably +intended to insinuate that were young Neville prudently to get out of +the adventure, simply leaving the girl behind him blasted, ruined, and +destroyed, the matter no doubt would be bad; but in that case the great +misfortune would have been avoided. She could not quite say this in +plain words; but she felt, no doubt, that Lady Scroope would understand +her. Then Lady Mary went on to assure her friend that though she and her +father and sisters very greatly regretted that Mr. Neville had not again +given them the pleasure of seeing him at Castle Quin, no feeling of +injury on that score had induced her to write so strongly as she had +done. She had been prompted to do so simply by her desire to prevent <i>a +most ruinous alliance</i>.</p> + +<p>Lady Scroope acknowledged entirely the truth of these last words. Such +an alliance would be most ruinous! But what could she do? Were she to +write to Fred and tell him all that she heard,—throwing to the winds +Lady Mary's stupid injunctions respecting secrecy, as she would not have +scrupled to do could she have thus obtained her object,—might it not be +quite possible that she would precipitate the calamity which she desired +so eagerly to avoid? Neither had she nor had her husband any power over +the young man, except such as arose from his own good feeling. The Earl +could not disinherit him;—could not put a single acre beyond his reach. +Let him marry whom he might he must be Earl Scroope of Scroope, and the +woman so married must be the Countess of Scroope. There was already a +Lady Neville about the world whose existence was a torture to them; and +if this young man chose also to marry a creature utterly beneath him and +to degrade the family, no effort on their part could prevent him. But +if, as seemed probable, he were yet free, and if he could be got to come +again among them, it might be that he still had left some feelings on +which they might work. No doubt there was the Neville obstinacy about +him; but he had seemed to both of them to acknowledge the sanctity of +his family, and to appreciate in some degree the duty which he owed to +it.</p> + +<p>The emergency was so great that she feared to act alone. She told +everything to her husband, shewing him Lady Mary's letter, and the +effect upon him was so great that it made him ill. "It will be better +for me," he said, "to turn my face to the wall and die before I know +it." He took to his bed, and they of his household did think that he +would die. He hardly spoke except to his wife, and when alone with her +did not cease to moan over the destruction which had come upon the +house. "If it could only have been the other brother," said Lady +Scroope.</p> + +<p>"There can be no change," said the Earl. "He must do as it lists him +with the fortune and the name and the honours of the family."</p> + +<p>Then on one morning there was a worse bulletin than heretofore given by +the doctor, and Lady Scroope at once sent off the letter which was to +recall the nephew to his uncle's bedside. The letter, as we have seen, +was successful, and Fred, who caused himself to be carried over from +Dorchester to Scroope as fast as post-horses could be made to gallop, +almost expected to be told on his arrival that his uncle had departed to +his rest. In the hall he encountered Mrs. Bunce the housekeeper. "We +think my lord is a little better," said Mrs. Bunce almost in a whisper. +"My lord took a little broth in the middle of the day, and we believe he +has slept since." Then he passed on and found his aunt in the small +sitting-room. His uncle had rallied a little, she told him. She was very +affectionate in her manner, and thanked him warmly for his alacrity in +coming. When he was told that his uncle would postpone his visit till +the next morning he almost began to think that he had been fussy in +travelling so quickly.</p> + +<p>That evening he dined alone with his aunt, and the conversation during +dinner and as they sat for a few minutes after dinner had reference +solely to his uncle's health. But, though they were alone on this +evening, he was surprised to find that Sophie Mellerby was again at +Scroope. Lady Sophia and Mr. Mellerby were up in London, but Sophie was +not to join them till May. As it happened, however, she was dining at +the parsonage this evening. She must have been in the house when Neville +arrived, but he had not seen her. "Is she going to live here?" he +asked, almost irreverently, when he was first told that she was in the +house. "I wish she were," said Lady Scroope. "I am childless, and she is +as dear to me as a daughter." Then Fred apologized, and expressed +himself as quite willing that Sophie Mellerby should live and die at +Scroope.</p> + +<p>The evening was dreadfully dull. It had seemed to him that the house was +darker, and gloomier, and more comfortless than ever. He had hurried +over to see a dying man, and now there was nothing for him to do but to +kick his heels. But before he went to bed his ennui was dissipated by a +full explanation of all his aunt's terrors. She crept down to him at +about nine, and having commenced her story by saying that she had a +matter of most vital importance on which to speak to him, she told him +in fact all that she had heard from Lady Mary.</p> + +<p>"She is a mischief-making gossiping old maid," said Neville angrily.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me that there is no truth in what she writes?" asked Lady +Scroope. But this was a question which Fred Neville was not prepared to +answer, and he sat silent. "Fred, tell me the truth. Are you married?"</p> + +<p>"No;—I am not married."</p> + +<p>"I know that you will not condescend to an untruth."</p> + +<p>"If so, my word must be sufficient."</p> + +<p>But it was not sufficient. She longed to extract from him some repeated +and prolonged assurance which might bring satisfaction to her own mind. +"I am glad, at any rate, to hear that there is no truth in that +suspicion." To this he would not condescend to reply, but sat glowering +at her as though in wrath that any question should be asked him about +his private concerns. "You must feel, Fred, for your uncle in such a +matter. You must know how important this is to him. You have heard what +he has already suffered; and you must know too that he has endeavoured +to be very good to you."</p> + +<p>"I do know that he has,—been very good to me."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you are angry with me for interfering." He would not deny that +he was angry. "I should not do so were it not that your uncle is ill and +suffering."</p> + +<p>"You have asked me a question and I have answered it. I do not know what +more you want of me."</p> + +<p>"Will you say that there is no truth in all this that Lady Mary says?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Mary is an impertinent old maid."</p> + +<p>"If you were in your uncle's place, and if you had an heir as to whose +character in the world you were anxious, you would not think anyone +impertinent who endeavoured for the sake of friendship to save your +name and family from a disreputable connexion."</p> + +<p>"I have made no disreputable connexion. I will not allow the word +disreputable to be used in regard to any of my friends."</p> + +<p>"You do know people of the name of O'Hara?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do."</p> + +<p>"And there is a—young lady?"</p> + +<p>"I may know a dozen young ladies as to whom I shall not choose to +consult Lady Mary Quin."</p> + +<p>"You understand what I mean, Fred. Of course I do not wish to ask you +anything about your general acquaintances. No doubt you meet many girls +whom you admire, and I should be very foolish were I to make inquiries +of you or of anybody else concerning them. I am the last person to be so +injudicious. If you will tell me that there is not and never shall be +any question of marriage between you and Miss O'Hara, I will not say +another word."</p> + +<p>"I will not pledge myself to anything for the future."</p> + +<p>"You told your uncle you would never make a marriage that should be +disgraceful to the position which you will be called upon to fill."</p> + +<p>"Nor will I."</p> + +<p>"But would not this marriage be disgraceful, even were the young lady +ever so estimable? How are the old families of the country to be kept +up, and the old blood maintained if young men, such as you are, will not +remember something of all that is due to the name which they bear."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that I have forgotten anything."</p> + +<p>Then she paused before she could summon courage to ask him another +question. "You have made no promise of marriage to Miss O'Hara?" He sat +dumb, but still looking at her with that angry frown. "Surely your uncle +has a right to expect that you will answer that question."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure that for his sake it will be much better that no such +questions shall be asked me."</p> + +<p>In point of fact he had answered the question. When he would not deny +that such promise had been made, there could no longer be any doubt of +the truth of what Lady Mary had written. Of course the whole truth had +now been elicited. He was not married but he was engaged;—engaged to a +girl of whom he knew nothing, a Roman Catholic, Irish, fatherless, +almost nameless,—to one who had never been seen in good society, one of +whom no description could be given, of whom no record could be made in +the peerage that would not be altogether disgraceful, a girl of whom he +was ashamed to speak before those to whom he owed duty and submission!</p> + +<p>That there might be a way to escape the evil even yet Lady Scroope +acknowledged to herself fully. Many men promise marriage but do not keep +the promise they have made. This lady, who herself was really +good,—unselfish, affectionate, religious, actuated by a sense of duty +in all that she did, whose life had been almost austerely moral, +entertained an idea that young men, such as Fred Neville, very commonly +made such promises with very little thought of keeping them. She did not +expect young men to be governed by principles such as those to which +young ladies are bound to submit themselves. She almost supposed that +heaven had a different code of laws for men and women in her condition +of life, and that salvation was offered on very different terms to the +two sexes. The breach of any such promise as the heir of Scroope could +have made to such a girl as this Miss O'Hara would be a perjury at which +Jove might certainly be expected to laugh. But in her catalogue there +were sins for which no young men could hope to be forgiven; and the sin +of such a marriage as this would certainly be beyond pardon.</p> + +<p>Of the injury which was to be done to Miss O'Hara, it may be said with +certainty that she thought not at all. In her eyes it would be no +injury, but simple justice,—no more than a proper punishment for +intrigue and wicked ambition. Without having seen the enemy to the +family of Scroope, or even having heard a word to her disparagement, she +could feel sure that the girl was bad,—that these O'Haras were vulgar +and false impostors, persons against whom she could put out all her +strength without any prick of conscience. Women in such matters are +always hard against women, and especially hard against those whom they +believe to belong to a class below their own. Certainly no feeling of +mercy would induce her to hold her hand in this task of saving her +husband's nephew from an ill-assorted marriage. Mercy to Miss O'Hara! +Lady Scroope had the name of being a very charitable woman. She gave +away money. She visited the poor. She had laboured hard to make the +cottages on the estate clean and comfortable. She denied herself many +things that she might give to others. But she would have no more mercy +on such a one as Miss O'Hara, than a farmer's labourer would have on a +rat!</p> + +<p>There was nothing more now to be said to the heir;—nothing more for the +present that could serve the purpose which she had in hand. "Your uncle +is very ill," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry to hear it."</p> + +<p>"We hope now that he may recover. For the last two days the doctor has +told us that we may hope."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to find that it is so."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are. You will see him to-morrow after breakfast. He is +most anxious to see you. I think sometimes you hardly reflect how much +you are to him."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should say so."</p> + +<p>"You had better not speak to him to-morrow about this affair,—of the +Irish young lady."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not,—unless he speaks to me about it."</p> + +<p>"He is hardly strong enough yet. But no doubt he will do so before you +leave us. I hope it may be long before you do that."</p> + +<p>"It can't be very long, Aunt Mary." To this she said nothing, but bade +him good-night and he was left alone. It was now past ten, and he +supposed that Miss Mellerby had come in and gone to her room. Why she +should avoid him in this way he could not understand. But as for Miss +Mellerby herself, she was so little to him that he cared not at all +whether he did or did not see her. All his brightest thoughts were away +in County Clare, on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. They might say +what they liked to him, but he would never be untrue to the girl whom he +had left there. His aunt had spoken of the "affair of—the Irish young +lady;" and he had quite understood the sneer with which she had +mentioned Kate's nationality. Why should not an Irish girl be as good as +any English girl? Of one thing he was quite sure,—that there was much +more of real life to be found on the cliffs of Moher than in the gloomy +chambers of Scroope Manor.</p> + +<p>He got up from his seat feeling absolutely at a loss how to employ +himself. Of course he could go to bed, but how terribly dull must life +be in a place in which he was obliged to go to bed at ten o'clock +because there was nothing to do. And since he had been there his only +occupation had been that of listening to his aunt's sermons. He began to +think that a man might pay too dearly even for being the heir to +Scroope. After sitting awhile in the dark gloom created by a pair of +candles, he got up and wandered into the large unused dining-room of the +mansion. It was a chamber over forty feet long, with dark flock paper +and dark curtains, with dark painted wainscoating below the paper, and +huge dark mahogany furniture. On the walls hung the portraits of the +Scroopes for many generations past, some in armour, some in their robes +of state, ladies with stiff bodices and high head-dresses, not beauties +by Lely or warriors and statesmen by Kneller, but wooden, stiff, +ungainly, hideous figures, by artists whose works had, unfortunately, +been more enduring than their names. He was pacing up and down the room +with a candle in his hand, trying to realize to himself what life at +Scroope might be with a wife of his aunt's choosing, and his aunt to +keep the house for them, when a door was opened at the end of the room, +away from that by which he had entered, and with a soft noiseless step +Miss Mellerby entered. She did not see him at first, as the light of her +own candle was in her eyes, and she was startled when he spoke to her. +His first idea was one of surprise that she should be wandering about +the house alone at night. "Oh, Mr. Neville," she said, "you quite took +me by surprise. How do you do? I did not expect to meet you here."</p> + +<p>"Nor I you!"</p> + +<p>"Since Lord Scroope has been so ill, Lady Scroope has been sleeping in +the little room next to his, downstairs, and I have just come from her."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of my uncle's state?"</p> + +<p>"He is better; but he is very weak."</p> + +<p>"You see him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, daily. He is so anxious to see you, Mr. Neville, and so much +obliged to you for coming. I was sure that you would come."</p> + +<p>"Of course I came."</p> + +<p>"He wanted to see you this afternoon; but the doctor had expressly +ordered that he should be kept quiet. Good-night. I am so very glad that +you are here. I am sure that you will be good to him."</p> + +<p>Why should she be glad, and why should she be sure that he would be good +to his uncle? Could it be that she also had been told the story of Kate +O'Hara? Then, as no other occupation was possible to him, he took +himself to bed.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-10"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter X.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Fred Neville's Scheme.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>On the next morning after breakfast Neville was taken into his uncle's +chamber, but there was an understanding that there was to be no +conversation on disagreeable subjects on this occasion. His aunt +remained in the room while he was there, and the conversation was almost +confined to the expression of thanks on the part of the Earl to his +nephew for coming, and of hopes on the part of the nephew that his uncle +might soon be well. One matter was mooted as to which no doubt much +would be said before Neville could get away. "I thought it better to +make arrangements to stay a fortnight," said Fred,—as though a +fortnight were a very long time indeed.</p> + +<p>"A fortnight!" said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"We won't talk of his going yet," replied Lady Scroope.</p> + +<p>"Supposing I had died, he could not have gone back in a fortnight," said +the Earl in a low moaning voice.</p> + +<p>"My dear uncle, I hope that I may live to see you in your own place here +at Scroope for many years to come." The Earl shook his head, but nothing +more was then said on that subject. Fred, however, had carried out his +purpose. He had been determined to let them understand that he would not +hold himself bound to remain long at Scroope Manor.</p> + +<p>Then he wrote a letter to his own Kate. It was the first time he had +addressed her in this fashion, and though he was somewhat of a gallant +gay Lothario, the writing of the letter was an excitement to him. If so, +what must the receipt of it have been to Kate O'Hara! He had promised +her that he would write to her, and from the moment that he was gone she +was anxious to send in to the post-office at Ennistimon for the treasure +which the mail car might bring to her. When she did get it, it was +indeed a treasure. To a girl who really loves, the first love letter is +a thing as holy as the recollection of the first kiss. "May I see it, +Kate?" said Mrs. O'Hara, as her daughter sat poring over the scrap of +paper by the window.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma,—if you please." Then she paused a moment. "But I think +that I had rather you did not. Perhaps he did not mean me to shew it." +The mother did not urge her request, but contented herself with coming +up behind her child and kissing her. The reader, however, shall have the +privilege which was denied to Mrs. O'Hara.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Kate</span>,</p> + +<p>I got here all alive yesterday at four. I came on as fast as ever I +could travel, and hardly got a mouthful to eat after I left Limerick. I +never saw such beastliness as they have at the stations. My uncle is +much better,—so much so that I shan't remain here very long. I can't +tell you any particular news,—except this, that that old cat down at +Castle Quin,—the one with the crisp-curled wig,—must have the nose of +a dog and the ears of a cat and the eyes of a bird, and she sends word +to Scroope of everything that she smells and hears and sees. It makes +not the slightest difference to me,—nor to you I should think. Only I +hate such interference. The truth is old maids have nothing else to do. +If I were you I wouldn't be an old maid.</p> + +<p>I can't quite say how long it will be before I am back at Ardkill, but +not a day longer than I can help. Address to Scroope, Dorsetshire,—that +will be enough;—to F. Neville, Esq. Give my love to your mother.—As +for yourself, dear Kate, if you care for my love, you may weigh mine for +your own dear self with your own weights and measures. Indeed you have +all my heart.</p> + +<p class="jright">Your own F. N.</p> + +<p class="noindent">There is a young lady here whom it is intended that I +shall marry. She is the pink of propriety and really very pretty;—but +you need not be a bit jealous. The joke is that my brother is furiously in +love with her, and that I fancy she would be just as much in love with him +only that she's told not to.—A thousand kisses.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>It was not much of a love letter, but there were a few words in it which +sufficed altogether for Kate's happiness. She was told that she had all +his heart,—and she believed it. She was told that she need not be +jealous of the proper young lady, and she believed that too. He sent her +a thousand kisses; and she, thinking that he might have kissed the +paper, pressed it to her lips. At any rate his hand had rested on it. +She would have been quite willing to shew to her mother all these +expressions of her lover's love; but she felt that it would not be fair +to him to expose his allusions to the "beastliness" at the stations. He +might say what he liked to her; but she understood that she was not at +liberty to shew to others words which had been addressed to her in the +freedom of perfect intimacy.</p> + +<p>"Does he say anything of the old man?" asked Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"He says that his uncle is better."</p> + +<p>"Threatened folks live long. Does Neville tell you when he will be +back?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly; but he says that he will not stay long. He does not like +Scroope at all. I knew that. He always says that,—that—"</p> + +<p>"Says what, dear?"</p> + +<p>"When we are married he will go away somewhere,—to Italy or Greece or +somewhere. Scroope he says is so gloomy."</p> + +<p>"And where shall I go?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother;—you shall be with us, always."</p> + +<p>"No, dear, you must not dream of that. When you have him you will not +want me."</p> + +<p>"Dear mother. I shall want you always."</p> + +<p>"He will not want me. We have no right to expect too much from him, +Kate. That he shall make you his wife we have a right to expect. If he +were false to you—"</p> + +<p>"He is not false. Why should you think him false?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think it; but if he were—! Never mind. If he be true to you, +I will not burden him. If I can see you happy, Kate, I will bear all the +rest." That which she would have to bear would be utter solitude for +life. She could look forward and see how black and tedious would be her +days; but all that would be nothing to her if her child were lifted up +on high.</p> + +<p>It was now the beginning of April, which for sportsmen in England is of +all seasons the most desperate. Hunting is over. There is literally +nothing to shoot. And fishing,—even if there were fishing in England +worth a man's time,—has not begun. A gentleman of enterprise driven +very hard in this respect used to declare that there was no remedy for +April but to go and fly hawks in Holland. Fred Neville could not fly +hawks at Scroope, and found that there was nothing for him to do. Miss +Mellerby suggested—books. "I like books better than anything," said +Fred. "I always have a lot of novels down at our quarters. But a fellow +can't be reading all day, and there isn't a novel in the house except +Walter Scott's and a lot of old rubbish. By-the-bye have you read 'All +Isn't Gold That Glitters?'" Miss Mellerby had not read the tale named. +"That's what I call a good novel."</p> + +<p>Day passed after day and it seemed as though he was expected to remain +at Scroope without any definite purpose, and, worse still, without any +fixed limit to his visit. At his aunt's instigation he rode about the +property and asked questions as to the tenants. It was all to be his +own, and in the course of nature must be his own very soon. There could +not but be an interest for him in every cottage and every field. But yet +there was present to him all the time a schoolboy feeling that he was +doing a task; and the occupation was not pleasant to him because it was +a task. The steward was with him as a kind of pedagogue, and continued +to instruct him during the whole ride. This man only paid so much a +year, and the rent ought to be so much more; but there were +circumstances. And "My Lord" had been peculiarly good. This farm was +supposed to be the best on the estate, and that other the worst. Oh yes, +there were plenty of foxes. "My Lord" had always insisted that the foxes +should be preserved. Some of the hunting gentry no doubt had made +complaints, but it was a great shame. Foxes had been seen, two or three +at a time, the very day after the coverts had been drawn blank. As for +game, a head of game could be got up very soon, as there was plenty of +corn and the woods were large; but "My Lord" had never cared for game. +The farmers all shot the rabbits on their own land. Rents were paid to +the day. There was never any mistake about that. Of course the land +would require to be re-valued, but "My Lord" wouldn't hear of such a +thing being done in his time. The Manor wood wanted thinning very badly. +The wood had been a good deal neglected. "My Lord" had never liked to +hear the axe going. That was Grumby Green and the boundary of the estate +in that direction. The next farm was college property, and was rented +five shillings an acre dearer than "My Lord's" land. If Mr. Neville +wished it the steward would show him the limit of the estate on the +other side to-morrow. No doubt there was a plan of the estate. It was in +"My Lord's" own room, and would shew every farm with its acreage and +bounds. Fred thought that he would study this plan on the next day +instead of riding about with the steward.</p> + +<p>He could not escape from the feeling that he was being taught his lesson +like a school-boy, and he did not like it. He longed for the freedom of +his boat on the Irish coast, and longed for the devotedness of Kate +O'Hara. He was sure that he loved her so thoroughly that life without +her was not to be regarded as possible. But certain vague ideas very +injurious to the Kate he so dearly loved crossed his brain. Under the +constant teaching of his aunt he did recognize it as a fact that he owed +a high duty to his family. For many days after that first night at +Scroope not a word was said to him about Kate O'Hara. He saw his uncle +daily,—probably twice a day; but the Earl never alluded to his Irish +love. Lady Scroope spoke constantly of the greatness of the position +which the heir was called upon to fill and of all that was due to the +honour of the family. Fred, as he heard her, would shake his head +impatiently, but would acknowledge the truth of what she said. He was +induced even to repeat the promise which he had made to his uncle, and +to assure his aunt that he would do nothing to mar or lessen the dignity +of the name of Neville. He did become, within his own mind, +indoctrinated with the idea that he would injure the position of the +earldom which was to be his were he to marry Kate O'Hara. Arguments +which had appeared to him to be absurd when treated with ridicule by +Father Marty, and which in regard to his own conduct he had determined +to treat as old women's tales, seemed to him at Scroope to be true and +binding. The atmosphere of the place, the companionship of Miss +Mellerby, the reverence with which he himself was treated by the +domestics, the signs of high nobility which surrounded him on all sides, +had their effect upon him. Noblesse oblige. He felt that it was so. Then +there crossed his brain visions of a future life which were injurious to +the girl he loved.</p> + +<p>Let his brother Jack come and live at Scroope and marry Sophie Mellerby. +As long as he lived Jack could not be the Earl, but in regard to money +he would willingly make such arrangements as would enable his brother to +maintain the dignity and state of the house. They would divide the +income. And then he would so arrange his matters with Kate O'Hara that +his brother's son should be heir to the Earldom. He had some glimmering +of an idea that as Kate was a Roman Catholic a marriage ceremony might +be contrived of which this would become the necessary result. There +should be no deceit. Kate should know it all, and everything should be +done to make her happy. He would live abroad, and would not call himself +by his title. They would be Mr. and Mrs. Neville. As to the property, +that must of course hereafter go with the title, but in giving up so +much to his brother, he could of course arrange as to the provision +necessary for any children of his own. No doubt his Kate would like to +be the Countess Scroope,—would prefer that a future son of her own +should be the future Earl. But as he was ready to abandon so much, +surely she would be ready to abandon something. He must explain to +her,—and to her mother,—that under no other circumstances could he +marry her. He must tell her of pledges made to his uncle before he knew +her, of the duty which he owed to his family, and of his own great +dislike to the kind of life which would await him as acting head of the +family. No doubt there would be scenes,—and his heart quailed as he +remembered certain glances which had flashed upon him from the eyes of +Mrs. O'Hara. But was he not offering to give up everything for his love? +His Kate should be his wife after some Roman Catholic fashion in some +Roman Catholic country. Of course there would be difficulties,—the +least of which would not be those glances from the angry mother; but it +would be his business to overcome difficulties. There were always +difficulties in the way of any man who chose to leave the common grooves +of life and to make a separate way for himself. There were always +difficulties in the way of adventures. Dear Kate! He would never desert +his Kate. But his Kate must do as much as this for him. Did he not +intend that, whatever good things the world might have in store for him, +his Kate should share them all?</p> + +<p>His ideas were very hazy, and he knew himself that he was ignorant of +the laws respecting marriage. It occurred to him, therefore, that he had +better consult his brother, and confide everything to him. That Jack was +wiser than he, he was always willing to allow; and although he did in +some sort look down upon Jack as a plodding fellow, who shot no seals +and cared nothing for adventure, still he felt it to be almost a pity +that Jack should not be the future Earl. So he told his aunt that he +proposed to ask his brother to come to Scroope for a day or two before +he returned to Ireland. Had his aunt, or would his uncle have, any +objection? Lady Scroope did not dare to object. She by no means wished +that her younger nephew should again be brought within the influence of +Miss Mellerby's charms; but it would not suit her purpose to give +offence to the heir by refusing so reasonable request. He would have +been off to join his brother at Woolwich immediately. So the invitation +was sent, and Jack Neville promised that he would come.</p> + +<p>Fred knew nothing of the offer that had been made to Miss Mellerby, +though he had been sharp enough to discern his brother's feelings. "My +brother is coming here to-morrow," he said one morning to Miss Mellerby +when they were alone together.</p> + +<p>"So Lady Scroope has told me. I don't wonder that you should wish to see +him."</p> + +<p>"I hope everybody will be glad to see him. Jack is just about the very +best fellow in the world;—and he's one of the cleverest too."</p> + +<p>"It is so nice to hear one brother speak in that way of another."</p> + +<p>"I swear by Jack. He ought to have been the elder brother;—that's the +truth. Don't you like him?"</p> + +<p>"Who;—I. Oh, yes, indeed. What I saw of him I liked very much."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a pity that he shouldn't have been the elder?"</p> + +<p>"I can't say that, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"No. It wouldn't be just civil to me. But I can say it. When we were +here last winter I thought that my brother was—"</p> + +<p>"Was what, Mr Neville?"</p> + +<p>"Was getting to be very fond of you. Perhaps I ought not to say so."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that much good is ever done by saying that kind of +thing," said Miss Mellerby gravely.</p> + +<p>"It cannot at any rate do any harm in this case. I wish with all my +heart that he was fond of you and you of him."</p> + +<p>"That is all nonsense. Indeed it is."</p> + +<p>"I am not saying it without an object. I don't see why you and I should +not understand one another. If I tell you a secret will you keep it?"</p> + +<p>"Do not tell me any secret that I must keep from Lady Scroope."</p> + +<p>"But that is just what you must do."</p> + +<p>"But then suppose I don't do it," said Miss Mellerby.</p> + +<p>But Fred was determined to tell his secret. "The truth is that both my +uncle and my aunt want me to fall in love with you."</p> + +<p>"How very kind of them," said she with a little forced laugh.</p> + +<p>"I don't for a moment think that, had I tried it on ever so, I could +have succeeded. I am not at all the sort of man to be conceited in that +way. Wishing to do the best they could for me, they picked you out. It +isn't that I don't think as well of you as they do, but—"</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. Neville, this is the oddest conversation."</p> + +<p>"Quite true. It is odd. But the fact is you are here, and there is +nobody else I can talk to. And I want you to know the exact truth. I'm +engaged to—somebody else."</p> + +<p>"I ought to break my heart;—oughtn't I?"</p> + +<p>"I don't in the least mind your laughing at me. I should have minded it +very much if I had asked you to marry me, and you had refused me."</p> + +<p>"You haven't given me the chance, you see."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean. What was the good?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Mr. Neville, if you are engaged to some one else. I +shouldn't like to be Number Two."</p> + +<p>"I'm in a peck of troubles;—that's the truth. I would change places +with my brother to-morrow if I could. I daresay you don't believe that, +but I would. I will not vex my uncle if I can help it, but I certainly +shall not throw over the girl who loves me. If it wasn't for the title, +I'd give up Scroope to my brother to-morrow, and go and live in some +place where I could get lots of shooting, and where I should never have +to put on a white choker."</p> + +<p>"You'll think better of all that."</p> + +<p>"Well!—I've just told you everything because I like to be on the +square. I wish you knew Kate O'Hara. I'm sure you would not wonder that +a fellow should love her. I had rather you didn't tell my aunt what I +have told you; but if you choose to do so, I can't help it."</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-11"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter XI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">The Wisdom of Jack Neville.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Neville had been forced to get his leave of absence renewed on the score +of his uncle's health, and had promised to prolong his absence till the +end of April. When doing so he had declared his intention of returning +to Ennis in the beginning of May; but no agreement to that had as yet +been expressed by his uncle or aunt. Towards the end of the month his +brother came to Scroope, and up to that time not a word further had been +said to him respecting Kate O'Hara.</p> + +<p>He had received an answer from Kate to his letter, prepared in a fashion +very different from that of his own. He had seated himself at a table +and in compliance with the pledge given by him, had scrawled off his +epistle as fast as he could write it. She had taken a whole morning to +think of hers, and had re-copied it after composing it, and had then +read it with the utmost care, confessing to herself, almost with tears, +that it was altogether unworthy of him to whom it was to be sent. It was +the first love letter she had ever written,—probably the first letter +she had ever written to a man, except those short notes which she would +occasionally scrawl to Father Marty in compliance with her mother's +directions. The letter to Fred was as follows;—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10"><span class="smallcaps">Ardkill +Cottage,</span></span><br /> +<span class="ind10">10th April, 18––.</span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dearest Fred</span>,</p> + +<p>I received your dear letter three or four days ago, and it made me so +happy. We were sorry that you should have such an uncomfortable journey; +but all that would be over and soon forgotten when you found yourself in +your comfortable home and among your own friends. I am very glad to hear +that your uncle is better. The thought of finding him so ill must have +made your journey very sad. As he is so much better, I suppose you will +come back soon to your poor little Kate.</p> + +<p>There is no news at all to send you from Liscannor. Father Marty was up +here yesterday and says that your boat is all safe at Lahinch. He says +that Barney Morony is an idle fellow, but as he has nothing to do he +can't help being idle. You should come back and not let him be idle any +more. I think the sea gulls know that you are away, because they are +wheeling and screaming about louder and bolder than ever.</p> + +<p>Mother sends her best love. She is very well. We have had nothing to eat +since you went because it has been Lent. So, if you had been here, you +would not have been able to get a bit of luncheon. I dare say you have +been a great deal better off at Scroope. Father Marty says that you +Protestants will have to keep your Lent hereafter,—eighty days at a +time instead of forty; and that we Catholics will be allowed to eat just +what we like, while you Protestants will have to look on at us. If so, I +think I'll manage to give you a little bit.</p> + +<p>Do come back to your own Kate as soon as you can. I need not tell you +that I love you better than all the world because you know it already. I +am not a bit jealous of the proper young lady, and I hope that she will +fall in love with your brother. Then some day we shall be +sisters;—shan't we? I should like to have a proper young lady for my +sister so much. Only, perhaps she would despise me. Do come back soon. +Everything is so dull while you are away! You would come back to your +own Kate if you knew how great a joy it is to her when she sees you +coming along the cliff.</p> + +<p>Dearest, dearest love, I am always your own, own</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Kate O'Hara</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Neville thought of showing Kate's letter to Miss Mellerby, but when he +read it a second time he made up his mind that he would keep it to +himself. The letter was all very well, and, as regarded the expressions +towards himself, just what it should be. But he felt that it was not +such a letter as Miss Mellerby would have written herself, and he was a +little ashamed of all that was said about the priest. Neither was he +proud of the pretty, finished, French hand-writing, over every letter of +which his love had taken so much pains. In truth, Kate O'Hara was better +educated than himself, and perhaps knew as much as Sophie Mellerby. She +could have written her letter quite as well in French as in English, and +she did understand something of the formation of her sentences. Fred +Neville had been at an excellent school, but it may be doubted whether +he could have explained his own written language. Nevertheless he was a +little ashamed of his Kate, and thought that Miss Mellerby might +perceive her ignorance if he shewed her letter.</p> + +<p>He had sent for his brother in order that he might explain his scheme +and get his brother's advice;—but he found it very difficult to explain +his scheme to Jack Neville. Jack, indeed, from the very first would not +allow that the scheme was in any way practicable. "I don't quite +understand, Fred, what you mean. You don't intend to deceive her by a +false marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Most assuredly not. I do not intend to deceive her at all."</p> + +<p>"You must make her your wife, or not make her your wife."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly she will be my wife. I am quite determined about that. She +has my word,—and over and above that, she is dearer to me than anything +else."</p> + +<p>"If you marry her, her eldest son must of course be the heir to the +title."</p> + +<p>"I am not at all so sure of that. All manner of queer things may be +arranged by marriages with Roman Catholics."</p> + +<p>"Put that out of your head," said Jack Neville. "In the first place you +would certainly find yourself in a mess, and in the next place the +attempt itself would be dishonest. I dare say men have crept out of +marriages because they have been illegal; but a man who arranges a +marriage with the intention of creeping out of it is a scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"You needn't bully about it, Jack. You know very well that I don't mean +to creep out of anything."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you don't. But as you ask me I must tell you what I think. You +are in a sort of dilemma between this girl and Uncle Scroope."</p> + +<p>"I'm not in any dilemma at all."</p> + +<p>"You seem to think you have made some promise to him which will be +broken if you marry her;—and I suppose you certainly have made her a +promise."</p> + +<p>"Which I certainly mean to keep," said Fred.</p> + +<p>"All right. Then you must break your promise to Uncle Scroope."</p> + +<p>"It was a sort of half and half promise. I could not bear to see him +making himself unhappy about it."</p> + +<p>"Just so. I suppose Miss O'Hara can wait."</p> + +<p>Fred Neville scratched his head. "Oh yes;—she can wait. There's nothing +to bind me to a day or a month. But my uncle may live for the next ten +years now."</p> + +<p>"My advice to you is to let Miss O'Hara understand clearly that you will +make no other engagement, but that you cannot marry her as long as your +uncle lives. Of course I say this on the supposition that the affair +cannot be broken off."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Fred with a decision that was magnanimous.</p> + +<p>"I cannot think the engagement a fortunate one for you in your position. +Like should marry like. I'm quite sure of that. You would wish your wife +to be easily intimate with the sort of people among whom she would +naturally be thrown as Lady Scroope,—among the wives and daughters of +other Earls and such like."</p> + +<p>"No; I shouldn't."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how she would be comfortable in any other way."</p> + +<p>"I should never live among other Earls, as you call them. I hate that +kind of thing. I hate London. I should never live here."</p> + +<p>"What would you do?"</p> + +<p>"I should have a yacht, and live chiefly in that. I should go about a +good deal, and get into all manner of queer places. I don't say but what +I might spend a winter now and then in Leicestershire or +Northamptonshire, for I am fond of hunting. But I should have no regular +home. According to my scheme you should have this place,—and sufficient +of the income to maintain it of course."</p> + +<p>"That wouldn't do, Fred," said Jack, shaking his head,—"though I know +how generous you are."</p> + +<p>"Why wouldn't it do?"</p> + +<p>"You are the heir, and you must take the duties with the privileges. You +can have your yacht if you like a yacht,—but you'll soon get tired of +that kind of life. I take it that a yacht is a bad place for a nursery, +and inconvenient for one's old boots. When a man has a home fixed for +him by circumstances,—as you will have,—he gravitates towards it, let +his own supposed predilections be what they may. Circumstances are +stronger than predilections."</p> + +<p>"You're a philosopher."</p> + +<p>"I was always more sober than you, Fred."</p> + +<p>"I wish you had been the elder,—on the condition of the younger brother +having a tidy slice out of the property to make himself comfortable."</p> + +<p>"But I am not the elder, and you must take the position with all the +encumbrances. I see nothing for it but to ask Miss O'Hara to wait. If my +uncle lives long the probability is that one or the other of you will +change your minds, and that the affair will never come off."</p> + +<p>When the younger and wiser brother gave this advice he did not think it +all likely that Miss O'Hara would change her mind. Penniless young +ladies don't often change their minds when they are engaged to the heirs +of Earls. It was not at all probable that she should repent the bargain +that she had made. But Jack Neville did think it very probable that his +brother might do so;—and, indeed, felt sure that he would do so if +years were allowed to intervene. His residence in County Clare would not +be perpetual, and with him in his circumstances it might well be that +the young lady, being out of sight, should be out of mind. Jack could +not exactly declare his opinion on this head. His brother at present was +full of his promise, full of his love, full of his honour. Nor would +Jack have absolutely counselled him to break his word to the young lady. +But he thought it probable that in the event of delay poor Miss O'Hara +might go to the wall;—and he also thought that for the general +interests of the Scroope family it would be better that she should do +so.</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to do yourself?" asked Fred.</p> + +<p>"In respect of what?"</p> + +<p>"In respect of Miss Mellerby?"</p> + +<p>"In respect of Miss Mellerby I am not going to do anything," said Jack +as he walked away.</p> + +<p>In all that the younger brother said to the elder as to poor Kate O'Hara +he was no doubt wise and prudent; but in what he said about himself he +did not tell the truth. But then the question asked was one which a man +is hardly bound to answer, even to a brother. Jack Neville was much less +likely to talk about his love affairs than Fred, but not on that account +less likely to think about them. Sophie Mellerby had refused him once, +but young ladies have been known to marry gentlemen after refusing them +more than once. He at any rate was determined to persevere, having in +himself and in his affairs that silent faith of which the possessor is +so often unconscious, but which so generally leads to success. He found +Miss Mellerby to be very courteous to him if not gracious; and he had +the advantage of not being afraid of her. It did not strike him that +because she was the granddaughter of a duke, and because he was a +younger son, that therefore he ought not to dare to look at her. He +understood very well that she was brought there that Fred might marry +her;—but Fred was intent on marrying some one else, and Sophie Mellerby +was not a girl to throw her heart away upon a man who did not want it. +He had come to Scroope for only three days, but, in spite of some +watchfulness on the part of the Countess, he found his opportunity for +speaking before he left the house. "Miss Mellerby," he said, "I don't +know whether I ought to thank Fortune or to upbraid her for having again +brought me face to face with you."</p> + +<p>"I hope the evil is not so oppressive as to make you very loud in your +upbraidings."</p> + +<p>"They shall not at any rate be heard. I don't know whether there was any +spice of malice about my brother when he asked me to come here, and told +me in the same letter that you were at Scroope."</p> + +<p>"He must have meant it for malice, I should think," said the young lady, +endeavouring, but not quite successfully, to imitate the manner of the +man who loved her.</p> + +<p>"Of course I came."</p> + +<p>"Not on my behalf, I hope, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"Altogether on your behalf. Fred's need to see me was not very great, +and, as my uncle had not asked me, and as my aunt, I fancy, does not +altogether approve of me, I certainly should not have come,—were it not +that I might find it difficult to get any other opportunity of seeing +you."</p> + +<p>"That is hardly fair to Lady Scroope, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"Quite fair, I think. I did not come clandestinely. I am not ashamed of +what I am doing,—or of what I am going to do. I may be ashamed of +this,—that I should feel my chance of success to be so small. When I +was here before I asked you to—allow me to love you. I now ask you +again."</p> + +<p>"Allow you!" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—allow me. I should be too bold were I to ask you to return my +love at once. I only ask you to know that because I was repulsed once, I +have not given up the pursuit."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Neville, I am sure that my father and mother would not permit it."</p> + +<p>"May I ask your father, Miss Mellerby?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not,—with my permission."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless you will not forget that I am suitor for your love?"</p> + +<p>"I will make no promise of anything, Mr. Neville." Then, fearing that +she had encouraged him, she spoke again. "I think you ought to take my +answer as final."</p> + +<p>"Miss Mellerby, I shall take no answer as final that is not favourable. +Should I indeed hear that you were to be married to another man, that +would be final; but that I shall not hear from your own lips. You will +say good-bye to me," and he offered her his hand.</p> + +<p>She gave him her hand;—and he raised it to his lips and kissed it, as +men were wont to do in the olden days.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="1-12"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter XII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Fred Neville Makes a Promise.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Fred Neville felt that he had not received from his brother the +assistance or sympathy which he had required. He had intended to make a +very generous offer,—not indeed quite understanding how his offer could +be carried out, but still of a nature that should, he thought, have +bound his brother to his service. But Jack had simply answered him by +sermons;—by sermons and an assurance of the impracticability of his +scheme. Nevertheless he was by no means sure that his scheme was +impracticable. He was at least sure of this,—that no human power could +force him to adopt a mode of life that was distasteful to him. No one +could make him marry Sophie Mellerby, or any other Sophie, and maintain +a grand and gloomy house in Dorsetshire, spending his income, not in a +manner congenial to him, but in keeping a large retinue of servants and +taking what he called the "heavy line" of an English nobleman. The +property must be his own,—or at any rate the life use of it. He swore +to himself over and over again that nothing should induce him to +impoverish the family or to leave the general affairs of the house of +Scroope worse than he found them. Much less than half of that which he +understood to be the income coming from the estates would suffice for +him. But let his uncle or aunt,—or his strait-laced methodical brother, +say what they would to him, nothing should induce him to make himself a +slave to an earldom.</p> + +<p>But yet his mind was much confused and his contentment by no means +complete. He knew that there must be a disagreeable scene between +himself and his uncle before he returned to Ireland, and he knew also +that his uncle could, if he were so minded, stop his present very +liberal allowance altogether. There had been a bargain, no doubt, that +he should remain with his regiment for a year, and of that year six +months were still unexpired. His uncle could not quarrel with him for +going back to Ireland; but what answer should he make when his uncle +asked him whether he were engaged to marry Miss O'Hara,—as of course he +would ask; and what reply should he make when his uncle would demand of +him whether he thought such a marriage fit for a man in his position. He +knew that it was not fit. He believed in the title, in the sanctity of +the name, in the mysterious grandeur of the family. He did not think +that an Earl of Scroope ought to marry a girl of whom nothing whatever +was known. The pride of the position stuck to him;—but it irked him to +feel that the sacrifices necessary to support that pride should fall on +his own shoulders.</p> + +<p>One thing was impossible to him. He would not desert his Kate. But he +wished to have his Kate, as a thing apart. If he could have given six +months of each year to his Kate, living that yacht-life of which he had +spoken, visiting those strange sunny places which his imagination had +pictured to him, unshackled by conventionalities, beyond the sound of +church bells, unimpeded by any considerations of family,—and then have +migrated for the other six months to his earldom and his estates, to his +hunting and perhaps to Parliament, leaving his Kate behind him, that +would have been perfect. And why not? In the days which must come so +soon, he would be his own master. Who could impede his motions or +gainsay his will? Then he remembered his Kate's mother, and the glances +which would come from the mother's eyes. There might be difficulty even +though Scroope were all his own.</p> + +<p>He was not a villain;—simply a self-indulgent spoiled young man who had +realized to himself no idea of duty in life. He never once told himself +that Kate should be his mistress. In all the pictures which he drew for +himself of a future life everything was to be done for her happiness and +for her gratification. His yacht should be made a floating bower for her +delight. During those six months of the year which, and which only, the +provoking circumstances of his position would enable him to devote to +joy and love, her will should be his law. He did not think himself to be +fickle. He would never want another Kate. He would leave her with +sorrow. He would return to her with ecstasy. Everybody around him should +treat her with the respect due to an empress. But it would be very +expedient that she should be called Mrs. Neville instead of Lady +Scroope. Could things not be so arranged for him;—so arranged that he +might make a promise to his uncle, and yet be true to his Kate without +breaking his promise? That was his scheme. Jack said that his scheme was +impracticable. But the difficulties in his way were not, he thought, so +much those which Jack had propounded as the angry eyes of Kate O'Hara's +mother.</p> + +<p>At last the day was fixed for his departure. The Earl was already so +much better as to be able to leave his bedroom. Twice or thrice a day +Fred saw his uncle, and there was much said about the affairs of the +estate. The heir had taken some trouble, had visited some of the +tenants, and had striven to seem interested in the affairs of the +property. The Earl could talk for ever about the estate, every field, +every fence, almost every tree on which was familiar to him. That his +tenants should be easy in their circumstances, a protestant, +church-going, rent-paying people, son following father, and daughters +marrying as their mothers had married, unchanging, never sinking an inch +in the social scale, or rising,—this was the wish nearest to his heart. +Fred was well disposed to talk about the tenants as long as Kate O'Hara +was not mentioned. When the Earl would mournfully speak of his own +coming death, as an event which could not now be far distant, Fred with +fullest sincerity would promise that his wishes should be observed. No +rents should be raised. The axe should be but sparingly used. It seemed +to him strange that a man going into eternity should care about this +tree or that;—but as far as he was concerned the trees should stand +while Nature supported them. No servant should be dismissed. The +carriage horses should be allowed to die on the place. The old charities +should be maintained. The parson of the parish should always be a +welcome guest at the Manor. No promise was difficult for him to make so +long as that one question were left untouched.</p> + +<p>But when he spoke of the day of his departure as fixed,—as being "the +day after to-morrow,"—then he knew that the question must be touched. +"I am sorry,—very sorry, that you must go," said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"You see a man can't leave the service at a moment's notice."</p> + +<p>"I think that we could have got over that, Fred."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps as regards the service we might, but the regiment would think +ill of me. You see, so many things depend on a man's staying or going. +The youngsters mayn't have their money ready. I said I should remain +till October."</p> + +<p>"I don't at all wish to act the tyrant to you."</p> + +<p>"I know that, uncle."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause. "I haven't spoken to you yet, Fred, on a matter +which has caused me a great deal of uneasiness. When you first came I +was not strong enough to allude to it, and I left it to your aunt." +Neville knew well what was coming now, and was aware that he was moved +in a manner that hardly became his manhood. "Your aunt tells me that you +have got into some trouble with a young lady in the west of Ireland."</p> + +<p>"No trouble, uncle, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Who is she?"</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause, but he gave a direct answer to the +question. "She is a Miss O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"A Roman Catholic?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"A girl of whose family you know nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I know that she lives with her mother."</p> + +<p>"In absolute obscurity,—and poverty?"</p> + +<p>"They are not rich," said Fred.</p> + +<p>"Do not suppose that I regard poverty as a fault. It is not necessary +that you should marry a girl with any fortune."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, Uncle Scroope."</p> + +<p>"But I understand that this young lady is quite beneath yourself in +life. She lives with her mother in a little cottage, without +servants,—"</p> + +<p>"There is a servant."</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, Fred. She does not live as ladies live. She is +uneducated."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong there, my lord. She has been at an excellent school in +France."</p> + +<p>"In France! Who was her father, and what?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what her father was;—a Captain O'Hara, I believe."</p> + +<p>"And you would marry such a girl as that;—a Roman Catholic; picked up +on the Irish coast,—one of whom nobody knows even her parentage or +perhaps her real name? It would kill me, Fred."</p> + +<p>"I have not said that I mean to marry her."</p> + +<p>"But what do you mean? Would you ruin her;—seduce her by false promises +and then leave her? Do you tell me that in cold blood you look forward +to such a deed as that?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, my boy; I hope not that. Do not tell me that a heartless +scoundrel is to take my name when I am gone."</p> + +<p>"I am not a heartless scoundrel," said Fred Neville, jumping up from his +seat.</p> + +<p>"Then what is it that you mean? You have thought, have you not, of the +duties of the high position to which you are called? You do not suppose +that wealth is to be given to you, and a great name, and all the +appanages and power of nobility, in order that you may eat more, and +drink more, and lie softer than others. It is because some think so, and +act upon such base thoughts, that the only hereditary peerage left in +the world is in danger of encountering the ill will of the people. Are +you willing to be known only as one of those who have disgraced their +order?"</p> + +<p>"I do not mean to disgrace it."</p> + +<p>"But you will disgrace it if you marry such a girl as that. If she were +fit to be your wife, would not the family of Lord Kilfenora have known +her?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think much of their not knowing her, uncle."</p> + +<p>"Who does know her? Who can say that she is even what she pretends to +be? Did you not promise me that you would make no such marriage?"</p> + +<p>He was not strong to defend his Kate. Such defence would have been in +opposition to his own ideas, in antagonism with the scheme which he had +made for himself. He understood, almost as well as did his uncle, that +Kate O'Hara ought not to be made Countess of Scroope. He too thought +that were she to be presented to the world as the Countess of Scroope, +she would disgrace the title. And yet he would not be a villain! And yet +he would not give her up! He could only fall back upon his scheme. "Miss +O'Hara is as good as gold," he said; "but I acknowledge that she is not +fit to be mistress of this house."</p> + +<p>"Fred," said the Earl, almost in a passion of affectionate solicitude, +"do not go back to Ireland. We will arrange about the regiment. No harm +shall be done to any one. My health will be your excuse, and the lawyers +shall arrange it all."</p> + +<p>"I must go back," said Neville. Then the Earl fell back in his chair and +covered his face with his hands. "I must go back; but I will give you my +honour as a gentleman to do nothing that shall distress you."</p> + +<p>"You will not marry her?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And, oh, Fred, as you value your own soul, do not injure a poor girl so +desolate as that. Tell her and tell her mother the honest truth. If +there be tears, will not that be better than sorrow, and disgrace, and +ruin?" Among evils there must always be a choice; and the Earl thought +that a broken promise was the lightest of those evils to a choice among +which his nephew had subjected himself.</p> + +<p>And so the interview was over, and there had been no quarrel. Fred +Neville had given the Earl a positive promise that he would not marry +Kate O'Hara,—to whom he had sworn a thousand times that she should be +his wife. Such a promise, however,—so he told himself—is never +intended to prevail beyond the lifetime of the person to whom it is +made. He had bound himself not to marry Kate O'Hara while his uncle +lived, and that was all.</p> + +<p>Or might it not be better to take his uncle's advice altogether and tell +the truth,—not to Kate, for that he could not do,—but to Mrs. O'Hara +or to Father Marty? As he thought of this he acknowledged to himself +that the task of telling such a truth to Mrs. O'Hara would be almost +beyond his strength. Could he not throw himself upon the priest's +charity, and leave it all to him? Then he thought of his own Kate, and +some feeling akin to genuine love told him that he could not part with +the girl in such fashion as that. He would break his heart were he to +lose his Kate. When he looked at it in that light it seemed to him that +Kate was more to him than all the family of the Scroopes with all their +glory. Dear, sweet, soft, innocent, beautiful Kate! His Kate who, as he +knew well, worshipped the very ground on which he trod! It was not +possible that he should separate himself from Kate O'Hara.</p> + +<p>On his return to Ireland he turned that scheme of his over and over +again in his head. Surely something might be done if the priest would +stand his friend! What if he were to tell the whole truth to the +priest, and ask for such assistance as a priest might give him? But the +one assurance to which he came during his journey was this;—that when a +man goes in for adventures, he requires a good deal of skill and some +courage too to carry him through them.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-1"></a> </p> +<h2>Volume II.</h2> +<p> </p> +<h3>Chapter I.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">From Bad to Worse.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>As he was returning to Ennis Neville was so far removed from immediate +distress as to be able to look forward without fear to his meeting with +the two ladies at Ardkill. He could as yet take his Kate in his arms +without any hard load upon his heart, such as would be there if he knew +that it was incumbent upon him at once to explain his difficulties. His +uncle was still living, but was old and still ill. He would naturally +make the most of the old man's age and infirmities. There was every +reason why they should wait, and no reason why such waiting should bring +reproaches upon his head. On the night of his arrival at his quarters he +despatched a note to his Kate.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest love</span>.</p> + +<p>Here I am again in the land of freedom and potatoes. I need not +trouble you with writing about home news, as I shall see you +the day after to-morrow. All to-morrow and +Wednesday morning I must stick close to my guns here. After one on +Wednesday I shall be free. I will drive over to Lahinch, and come round +in the boat. I must come back here the same night, but I suppose it will +be the next morning before I get to bed. I sha'n't mind that if I get +something for my pains. My love to your mother. Your own,</p> + +<p class="ind15">F. N.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + +<p>In accordance with this plan he did drive over to Lahinch. He might have +saved time by directing that his boat should come across the bay to meet +him at Liscannor, but he felt that he would prefer not to meet Father +Marty at present. It might be that before long he would be driven to +tell the priest a good deal, and to ask for the priest's assistance; but +at present he was not anxious to see Father Marty. Barney Morony was +waiting for him at the stable where he put up his horse, and went down +with him to the beach. The ladies, according to Barney, were quite well +and more winsome than ever. But,—and this information was not given +without much delay and great beating about the bush,—there was a rumour +about Liscannor that Captain O'Hara had "turned up." Fred was so +startled at this that he could not refrain from showing his anxiety by +the questions which he asked. Barney did not seem to think that the +Captain had been at Ardkill or anywhere in the neighbourhood. At any +rate he, Barney, had not seen him. He had just heard the rumour. "Shure, +Captain, I wouldn't be telling yer honour a lie; and they do be saying +that the Captain one time was as fine a man as a woman ever sot eyes +on;—and why not, seeing what kind the young lady is, God bless her!" If +it were true that Kate's father had "turned up," such an advent might +very naturally alter Neville's plans. It would so change the position of +things as to relieve him in some degree from the force of his past +promises.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless when he saw Kate coming along the cliffs to meet him, the +one thing more certain to him than all other things was that he would +never abandon her. She had been watching for him almost from the hour at +which he had said that he would leave Ennis, and, creeping up among the +rocks, had seen his boat as it came round the point from Liscannor. She +had first thought that she would climb down the path to meet him; but +the tide was high and there was now no strip of strand below the cliffs; +and Barney Morony would have been there to see; and she resolved that it +would be nicer to wait for him on the summit. "Oh Fred, you have come +back," she said, throwing herself on his breast.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I am back. Did you think I was going to desert you?"</p> + +<p>"No; no. I knew you would not desert me. Oh, my darling!"</p> + +<p>"Dear Kate;—dearest Kate."</p> + +<p>"You have thought of me sometimes?"</p> + +<p>"I have thought of you always,—every hour." And so he swore to her that +she was as much to him as he could possibly be to her. She hung on his +arm as she went down to the cottage, and believed herself to be the +happiest and most fortunate girl in Ireland. As yet no touch of the +sorrows of love had fallen upon her.</p> + +<p>He could not all at once ask her as to that rumour which Morony had +mentioned to him. But he thought of it as he walked with his arm round +her waist. Some question must be asked, but it might, perhaps, be better +that he should ask it of the mother. Mrs. O'Hara was at the cottage and +seemed almost as glad to see him as Kate had been. "It is very pleasant +to have you back again," she said. "Kate has been counting first the +hours, and then the minutes."</p> + +<p>"And so have you, mother."</p> + +<p>"Of course we want to hear all the news," said Mrs. O'Hara. Then +Neville, with the girl who was to be his wife sitting close beside him +on the sofa,—almost within his embrace,—told them how things were +going at Scroope. His uncle was very weak,—evidently failing; but still +so much better as to justify the heir in coming away. He might perhaps +live for another twelve months, but the doctors thought it hardly +possible that he should last longer than that. Then the nephew went on +to say that his uncle was the best and most generous man in the +world,—and the finest gentleman and the truest Christian. He told also +of the tenants who were not to be harassed, and the servants who were +not to be dismissed, and the horses that were to be allowed to die in +their beds, and the trees that were not to be cut down.</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew him," said Kate. "I wish I could have seen him once."</p> + +<p>"That can never be," said Fred, sadly.</p> + +<p>"No;—of course not."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. O'Hara asked a question. "Has he ever heard of us?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he has heard of you."</p> + +<p>"From you?"</p> + +<p>"No;—not first from me. There are many reasons why I would not have +mentioned your names could I have helped it. He has wished me to marry +another girl,—and especially a Protestant girl. That was impossible."</p> + +<p>"That must be impossible now, Fred," said Kate, looking up into his +face.</p> + +<p>"Quite so, dearest; but why should I have vexed him, seeing that he is +so good to me, and that he must be gone so soon?"</p> + +<p>"Who had told him of us?" asked Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"That woman down there at Castle Quin."</p> + +<p>"Lady Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Foul-tongued old maid that she is," exclaimed Fred. "She writes to my +aunt by every post, I believe."</p> + +<p>"What evil can she say of us?"</p> + +<p>"She does say evil. Never mind what. Such a woman always says evil of +those of her sex who are good-looking."</p> + +<p>"There, mother;—that's for you," said Kate, laughing. "I don't care +what she says."</p> + +<p>"If she tells your aunt that we live in a small cottage, without +servants, without society, with just the bare necessaries of life, she +tells the truth of us."</p> + +<p>"That's just what she does say;—and she goes on harping about religion. +Never mind her. You can understand that my uncle should be +old-fashioned. He is very old, and we must wait."</p> + +<p>"Waiting is so weary," said Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"It is not weary for me at all," said Kate.</p> + +<p>Then he left them, without having said a word about the Captain. He +found the Captain to be a subject very uncomfortable to mention, and +thought as he was sitting there that it might perhaps be better to make +his first enquiries of this priest. No one said a word to him about the +Captain beyond what he had heard from his boatman. For, as it happened, +he did not see the priest till May was nearly past, and during all that +time things were going from bad to worse. As regarded any services which +he rendered to the army at this period of his career, the excuses which +he had made to his uncle were certainly not valid. Some pretence at +positively necessary routine duties it must be supposed that he made; +but he spent more of his time either on the sea, or among the cliffs +with Kate, or on the road going backwards and forwards, than he did at +his quarters. It was known that he was to leave the regiment and become +a great man at home in October, and his brother officers were kind to +him. And it was known also, of course, that there was a young lady down +on the sea coast beyond Ennistimon, and doubtless there were jokes on +the subject. But there was no one with him at Ennis having such weight +of fears or authority as might have served to help to rescue him. During +this time Lady Mary Quin still made her reports, and his aunt's letters +were full of cautions and entreaties. "I am told," said the Countess, in +one of her now detested epistles, "that the young woman has a reprobate +father who has escaped from the galleys. Oh, Fred, do not break our +hearts." He had almost forgotten the Captain when he received this +further rumour which had circulated to him round by Castle Quin and +Scroope Manor.</p> + +<p>It was all going from bad to worse. He was allowed by the mother to be +at the cottage as much as he pleased, and the girl was allowed to wander +with him when she would among the cliffs. It was so, although Father +Marty himself had more than once cautioned Mrs. O'Hara that she was +imprudent. "What can I do?" she said. "Have not you yourself taught me +to believe that he is true?"</p> + +<p>"Just spake a word to Miss Kate herself."</p> + +<p>"What can I say to her now? She regards him as her husband before God."</p> + +<p>"But he is not her husband in any way that would prevent his taking +another wife an' he plases. And, believe me, Misthress O'Hara, them sort +of young men like a girl a dale better when there's a little 'Stand off' +about her."</p> + +<p>"It is too late to bid her to be indifferent to him now, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"I am not saying that Miss Kate is to lose her lover. I hope I'll have +the binding of 'em together myself, and I'll go bail I'll do it fast +enough. In the meanwhile let her keep herself to herself a little more."</p> + +<p>The advice was very good, but Mrs. O'Hara knew not how to make use of +it. She could tell the young man that she would have his heart's blood +if he deceived them, and she could look at him as though she meant to be +as good as her word. She had courage enough for any great emergency. But +now that the lover had been made free of the cottage she knew not how to +debar him. She could not break her Kate's heart by expressing doubts to +her. And were he to be told to stay away, would he not be lost to them +for ever? Of course he could desert them if he would, and then they must +die.</p> + +<p>It was going from bad to worse certainly; and not the less so because he +was more than ever infatuated about the girl. When he had calculated +whether it might be possible to desert her he had been at Scroope. He +was in County Clare now, and he did not hesitate to tell himself that it +was impossible. Whatever might happen, and to whomever he might be +false,—he would be true to her. He would at any rate be so true to her +that he would not leave her. If he never made her his legal wife, his +wife legal at all points, he would always treat her as wife. When his +uncle the Earl should die, when the time came in which he would be +absolutely free as to his own motions, he would discover the way in +which this might best be done. If it were true that his Kate's father +was a convict escaped from the galleys, that surely would be an +additional reason why she should not be made Countess of Scroope. Even +Mrs. O'Hara herself must understand that. With Kate, with his own Kate, +he thought that there would be no difficulty.</p> + +<p>From bad to worse! Alas, alas; there came a day in which the +pricelessness of the girl he loved sank to nothing, vanished away, and +was as a thing utterly lost, even in his eyes. The poor unfortunate +one,—to whom beauty had been given, and grace, and softness,—and +beyond all these and finer than these, innocence as unsullied as the +whiteness of the plumage on the breast of a dove; but to whom, alas, had +not been given a protector strong enough to protect her softness, or +guardian wise enough to guard her innocence! To her he was godlike, +noble, excellent, all but holy. He was the man whom Fortune, more than +kind, had sent to her to be the joy of her existence, the fountain of +her life, the strong staff for her weakness. Not to believe in him would +be the foulest treason! To lose him would be to die! To deny him would +be to deny her God! She gave him all;—and her pricelessness in his eyes +was gone for ever.</p> + +<p>He was sitting with her one day towards the end of May on the edge of +the cliff, looking down upon the ocean and listening to the waves, when +it occurred to him that he might as well ask her about her father. It +was absurd he thought to stand upon any ceremony with her. He was very +good to her, and intended to be always good to her, but it was +essentially necessary to him to know the truth. He was not aware, +perhaps, that he was becoming rougher with her than had been his wont. +She certainly was not aware of it, though there was a touch of awe +sometimes about her as she answered him. She was aware that she now +shewed to him an absolute obedience in all things which had not been +customary with her; but then it was so sweet to obey him; so happy a +thing to have such a master! If he rebuked her, he did it with his arm +round her waist, so that she could look into his face and smile as she +promised that she would be good and follow his behests in all things. He +had been telling her now of some fault in her dress, and she had been +explaining that such faults would come when money was so scarce. Then he +had offered her gifts. A gift she would of course take. She had already +taken gifts which were the treasures of her heart. But he must not pay +things for her till,—till—. Then she again looked up into his face and +smiled. "You are not angry with me?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Kate,—I want to ask you a particular question."</p> + +<p>"What question?"</p> + +<p>"You must not suppose, let the answer be what it may, that it can make +any difference between you and me."</p> + +<p>"Oh,—I hope not," she replied trembling.</p> + +<p>"It shall make none," he answered with all a master's assurance and +authority. "Therefore you need not be afraid to answer me. Tidings have +reached me on a matter as to which I ought to be informed."</p> + +<p>"What matter? Oh Fred, you do so frighten me. I'll tell you anything I +know."</p> + +<p>"I have been told that—that your father—is alive." He looked down upon +her and could see that her face was red up to her very hair. "Your +mother once told me that she had never been certain of his death."</p> + +<p>"I used to think he was dead."</p> + +<p>"But now you think he is alive?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is;—but I do not know. I never saw my father so as to +remember him; though I do remember that we used to be very unhappy when +we were in Spain."</p> + +<p>"And what have you heard lately? Tell me the truth, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall tell you the truth, Fred. I think mother got a +letter, but she did not shew it me. She said just a word, but nothing +more. Father Marty will certainly know if she knows."</p> + +<p>"And you know nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"I think I must ask Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"But will it matter to you?" Kate asked.</p> + +<p>"At any rate it shall not matter to you," he said, kissing her. And then +again she was happy; though there had now crept across her heart the +shadow of some sad foreboding, a foretaste of sorrow that was not +altogether bitter as sorrow is, but which taught her to cling closely to +him when he was there and would fill her eyes with tears when she +thought of him in his absence.</p> + +<p>On this day he had not found Mrs. O'Hara at the cottage. She had gone +down to Liscannor, Kate told him. He had sent his boat back to the +strand near that village, round the point and into the bay, as it could +not well lie under the rocks at high tide, and he now asked Kate to +accompany him as he walked down. They would probably meet her mother on +the road. Kate, as she tied on her hat, was only too happy to be his +companion. "I think," he said, "that I shall try and see Father Marty as +I go back. If your mother has really heard anything about your father, +she ought to have told me."</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with mother, Fred."</p> + +<p>"I won't be angry with you, my darling," said the master with masterful +tenderness.</p> + +<p>Although he had intimated his intention of calling on the priest that +very afternoon, it may be doubted whether he was altogether gratified +when he met the very man with Mrs. O'Hara close to the old burying +ground. "Ah, Mr. Neville," said the priest, "and how's it all wid you +this many a day?"</p> + +<p>"The top of the morning to you thin, Father Marty," said Fred, trying to +assume an Irish brogue. Nothing could be more friendly than the +greeting. The old priest took off his hat to Kate, and made a low bow, +as though he should say,—to the future Countess of Scroope I owe a very +especial respect. Mrs. O'Hara held her future son-in-law's hand for a +moment, as though she might preserve him for her daughter by some show +of affection on her own part. "And now, Misthress O'Hara," said the +priest, "as I've got a companion to go back wid me, I'm thinking I'll +not go up the hill any further." Then they parted, and Kate looked as +though she were being robbed of her due because her lover could not give +her one farewell kiss in the priest's presence.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-2"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter II.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Is she to be your wife?</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>"It's quite a sthranger you are, these days," said the priest, as soon +as they had turned their backs upon the ladies.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes. We haven't managed to meet since I came back;—have we?"</p> + +<p>"I've been pretty constant at home, too. But you like them cliffs up +there, better than the village no doubt."</p> + +<p>"Metal more attractive, Father Marty," said Fred laughing;—"not meaning +however any slight upon Liscannor or the Cork whisky."</p> + +<p>"The Cork whisky is always to the fore, Mr. Neville. And how did you +lave matters with your noble uncle?"</p> + +<p>Neville at the present moment was anxious rather to speak of Kate's +ignoble father than of his own noble uncle. He had declared his +intention of making inquiry of Father Marty, and he thought that he +should do so with something of a high hand. He still had that scheme in +his head, and he might perhaps be better prepared to discuss it with the +priest if he could first make this friend of the O'Hara family +understand how much he, Neville, was personally injured by this "turning +up" of a disreputable father. But, should he allow the priest at once to +run away to Scroope and his noble uncle, the result of such conversation +would simply be renewed promises on his part in reference to his future +conduct to Kate O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"Lord Scroope wasn't very well when I left him. By the bye, Father +Marty, I've been particularly anxious to see you."</p> + +<p>"'Deed thin I was aisy found, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"What is this I hear about—Captain O'Hara?"</p> + +<p>"What is it that you have heard, Mr. Neville?" Fred looked into the +priest's face and found that he, at least, did not blush. It may be that +all power of blushing had departed from Father Marty.</p> + +<p>"In the first place I hear that there is such a man."</p> + +<p>"Ony way there was once."</p> + +<p>"You think he's dead then?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say that. It's a matter of,—faith, thin, it's a matter of nigh +twenty years since I saw the Captain. And when I did see him I didn't +like him. I can tell you that, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not."</p> + +<p>"That lass up there was not born when I saw him. He was a handsome man +too, and might have been a gentleman av' he would."</p> + +<p>"But he wasn't."</p> + +<p>"It's a hard thing to say what is a gentleman, Mr. Neville. I don't know +a much harder thing. Them folk at Castle Quin, now, wouldn't scruple to +say that I'm no gentleman, just because I'm a Popish priest. I say that +Captain O'Hara was no gentleman because—he ill-treated a woman." Father +Marty as he said this stopped a moment on the road, turning round and +looking Neville full in the face. Fred bore the look fairly well. +Perhaps at the moment he did not understand its application. It may be +that he still had a clear conscience in that matter, and thought that he +was resolved to treat Kate O'Hara after a fashion that would in no way +detract from his own character as a gentleman. "As it was," continued +the priest, "he was a low blag-guard."</p> + +<p>"He hadn't any money, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"'Deed and I don't think he was iver throubled much in respect of money. +But money doesn't matter, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Fred.</p> + +<p>"Thim ladies up there are as poor as Job, but anybody that should say +that they weren't ladies would just be shewing that he didn't know the +difference. The Captain was well born, Mr. Neville, av' that makes ony +odds."</p> + +<p>"Birth does go for something, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"Thin let the Captain have the advantage. Them O'Haras of Kildare +weren't proud of him I'm thinking, but he was a chip of that block; and +some one belonging to him had seen the errors of the family ways, in +respect of making him a Papist. 'Deed and I must say, Mr. Neville, when +they send us any offsets from a Prothestant family it isn't the best +that they give us."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"We can make something of a bit of wood that won't take ony shape at +all, at all along wid them. But there wasn't much to boast of along of +the Captain."</p> + +<p>"But is he alive, Father Marty;—or is he dead? I think I've a right to +be told."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear you ask it as a right, Mr. Neville. You have a right +if that young lady up there is to be your wife." Fred made no answer +here, though the priest paused for a moment, hoping that he would do so. +But the question could be asked again, and Father Marty went on to tell +all that he knew, and all that he had heard of Captain O'Hara. He was +alive. Mrs. O'Hara had received a letter purporting to be from her +husband, giving an address in London, and asking for money. He, Father +Marty, had seen the letter; and he thought that there might perhaps be a +doubt whether it was written by the man of whom they were speaking. Mrs. +O'Hara had declared that if it were so written the handwriting was much +altered. But then in twelve years the writing of a man who drank hard +will change. It was twelve years since she had last received a letter +from him.</p> + +<p>"And what do you believe?"</p> + +<p>"I think he lives, and that he wrote it, Mr. Neville. I'll tell you +God's truth about it as I believe it, because as I said before, I think +you are entitled to know the truth."</p> + +<p>"And what was done?"</p> + +<p>"I sent off to London,—to a friend I have."</p> + +<p>"And what did your friend say?"</p> + +<p>"He says there is a man calling himself Captain O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"And is that all?"</p> + +<p>"She got a second letter. She got it the very last day you was down +here. Pat Cleary took it up to her when you was out wid Miss Kate."</p> + +<p>"He wants money, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Just that, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"It makes a difference;—doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>"How does it make a difference?"</p> + +<p>"Well; it does. I wonder you don't see it. You must see it." From that +moment Father Marty said in his heart that Kate O'Hara had lost her +husband. Not that he admitted for a moment that Captain O'Hara's return, +if he had returned, would justify the lover in deserting the girl; but +that he perceived that Neville had already allowed himself to entertain +the plea. The whole affair had in the priest's estimation been full of +peril; but then the prize to be won was very great! From the first he +had liked the young man, and had not doubted,—did not now doubt,—but +that if once married he would do justice to his wife. Even though Kate +should fail and should come out of the contest with a scorched +heart,—and that he had thought more than probable,—still the prize was +very high and the girl he thought was one who could survive such a blow. +Latterly, in that respect he had changed his opinion. Kate had shewn +herself to be capable of so deep a passion that he was now sure that she +would be more than scorched should the fire be one to injure and not to +cherish her. But the man's promises had been so firm, so often +reiterated, were so clearly written, that the priest had almost dared to +hope that the thing was assured. Now, alas, he perceived that the embryo +English lord was already looking for a means of escape, and already +thought that he had found it in this unfortunate return of the father. +The whole extent of the sorrow even the priest did not know. But he was +determined to fight the battle to the very last. The man should make the +girl his wife, or he, Father Marty, parish priest of Liscannor, would +know the reason why. He was a man who was wont to desire to know the +reason why, as to matters which he had taken in hand. But when he heard +the words which Neville spoke and marked the tone in which they were +uttered he felt that the young man was preparing for himself a way of +escape.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it should make any difference," he said shortly.</p> + +<p>"If the man be disreputable,—"</p> + +<p>"The daughter is not therefore disreputable. Her position is not +changed."</p> + +<p>"I have to think of my friends."</p> + +<p>"You should have thought of that before you declared yourself to her, +Mr. Neville." How true this was now, the young man knew better than the +priest, but that, as yet, was his own secret. "You do not mean to tell +me that because the father is not all that he should be, she is +therefore to be thrown over. That cannot be your idea of honour. Have +you not promised that you would make her your wife?" The priest stopped +for an answer, but the young man made him none. "Of course you have +promised her."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she has told you so."</p> + +<p>"To whom should she tell her story? To whom should she go for advice? +But it was you who told me so, yourself."</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Did you not swear to me that you would not injure her? And why should +there have been any talk with you and me about her, but that I saw what +was coming? When a young man like you chooses to spend his hours day +after day and week after week with such a one as she is, with a +beautiful young girl, a sweet innocent young lady, so sweet as to make +even an ould priest like me feel that the very atmosphere she breathes +is perfumed and hallowed, must it not mean one of two things;—that he +desires to make her his wife or else,—or else something so vile that I +will not name it in connection with Kate O'Hara? Then as her mother's +friend, and as hers,—as their only friend near them, I spoke out +plainly to you, and you swore to me that you intended no harm to her."</p> + +<p>"I would not harm her for the world."</p> + +<p>"When you said that, you told me as plainly as you could spake that she +should be your wife. With her own mouth she never told me. Her mother +has told me. Daily Mrs. O'Hara has spoken to me of her hopes and fears. +By the Lord above me whom I worship, and by His Son in whom I rest all +my hopes, I would not stand in your shoes if you intend to tell that +woman that after all that has passed you mean to desert her child."</p> + +<p>"Who has talked of deserting?" asked Neville angrily.</p> + +<p>"Say that you will be true to her, that you will make her your wife +before God and man, and I will humbly ask your pardon."</p> + +<p>"All that I say is that this Captain O'Hara's coming is a nuisance."</p> + +<p>"If that be all, there is an end of it. It is a nuisance. Not that I +suppose he ever will come. If he persists she must send him a little +money. There shall be no difficulty about that. She will never ask you +to supply the means of keeping her husband."</p> + +<p>"It isn't the money. I think you hardly understand my position, Father +Marty." It seemed to Neville that if it was ever his intention to open +out his scheme to the priest, now was his time for doing so. They had +come to the cross roads at which one way led down to the village and to +Father Marty's house, and the other to the spot on the beach where the +boat would be waiting. "I can't very well go on to Liscannor," said +Neville.</p> + +<p>"Give me your word before we part that you will keep your promise to +Miss O'Hara," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"If you will step on a few yards with me I will tell you just how I am +situated." Then the priest assented, and they both went on towards the +beach, walking very slowly. "If I alone were concerned, I would give up +everything for Miss O'Hara. I am willing to give up everything as +regards myself. I love her so dearly that she is more to me than all the +honours and wealth that are to come to me when my uncle dies."</p> + +<p>"What is to hinder but that you should have the girl you love and your +uncle's honours and wealth into the bargain?"</p> + +<p>"That is just it."</p> + +<p>"By the life of me I don't see any difficulty. You're your own masther. +The ould Earl can't disinherit you if he would."</p> + +<p>"But I am bound down."</p> + +<p>"How bound? Who can bind you?"</p> + +<p>"I am bound not to make Miss O'Hara Countess of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"What binds you? You are bound by a hundred promises to make her your +wife."</p> + +<p>"I have taken an oath that no Roman Catholic shall become Countess +Scroope as my wife."</p> + +<p>"Then, Mr. Neville, let me tell you that you must break your oath."</p> + +<p>"Would you have me perjure myself?"</p> + +<p>"Faith I would. Perjure yourself one way you certainly must, av' you've +taken such an oath as that, for you've sworn many oaths that you would +make this Catholic lady your wife. Not make a Roman Catholic Countess of +Scroope! It's the impudence of some of you Prothestants that kills me +entirely. As though we couldn't count Countesses against you and beat +you by chalks! I ain't the man to call hard names, Mr. Neville; but if +one of us is upstarts, it's aisy seeing which. Your uncle's an ould man, +and I'm told nigh to his latter end. I'm not saying but what you should +respect even his wakeness. But you'll not look me in the face and tell +me that afther what's come and gone that young lady is to be cast on one +side like a plucked rose, because an ould man has spoken a foolish word, +or because a young man has made a wicked promise."</p> + +<p>They were now standing again, and Fred raised his hat and rubbed his +forehead as he endeavoured to arrange the words in which he could best +propose his scheme to the priest. He had not yet escaped from the idea +that because Father Marty was a Roman Catholic priest, living in a +village in the extreme west of Ireland, listening night and day to the +roll of the Atlantic and drinking whisky punch, therefore he would be +found to be romantic, semi-barbarous, and perhaps more than semi-lawless +in his views of life. Irish priests have been made by chroniclers of +Irish story to do marvellous things; and Fred Neville thought that this +priest, if only the matter could be properly introduced, might be +persuaded to do for him something romantic, something marvellous, +perhaps something almost lawless. In truth it might have been difficult +to find a man more practical or more honest than Mr. Marty. And then the +difficulty of introducing the subject was very great. Neville stood with +his face a little averted, rubbing his forehead as he raised his +sailor's hat. "If you could only read my heart," he said, "you'd know +that I am as true as steel."</p> + +<p>"I'd be lothe to doubt it, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"I'd give up everything to call Kate my own."</p> + +<p>"But you need give up nothing, and yet have her all your own."</p> + +<p>"You say that because you don't completely understand. It may as well be +taken for granted at once that she can never be Countess of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"Taken for granted!" said the old man as the fire flashed out of his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Just listen to me for one moment. I will marry her to-morrow, or at any +time you may fix, if a marriage can be so arranged that she shall never +be more than Mrs. Neville."</p> + +<p>"And what would you be?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"And what would her son be?"</p> + +<p>"Oh;—just the same,—when he grew up. Perhaps there wouldn't be a son."</p> + +<p>"God forbid that there should on those terms. You intend that your +children and her children shall be—bastards. That's about it, Mr. +Neville." The romance seemed to vanish when the matter was submitted to +him in this very prosaic manner. "As to what you might choose to call +yourself, that would be nothing to me and not very much I should say, to +her. I believe a man needn't be a lord unless he likes to be a +lord;—and needn't call his wife a countess. But, Mr. Neville, when you +have married Miss O'Hara, and when your uncle shall have died, there can +be no other Countess of Scroope, and her child must be the heir to your +uncle's title."</p> + +<p>"All that I could give her except that, she should have."</p> + +<p>"But she must have that. She must be your wife before God and man, and +her children must be the children of honour and not of disgrace." +Ah,—if the priest had known it all!</p> + +<p>"I would live abroad with her, and her mother should live with us."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you would take Kate O'Hara as your misthress! And you +make this as a proposal to me! Upon my word, Mr. Neville, I don't think +that I quite understand what it is that you're maning to say to me. Is +she to be your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Neville, urged by the perturbation of his spirit to give a +stronger assurance than he had intended.</p> + +<p>"Then must her son if she have one be the future Earl of Scroope. He may +be Protesthant,—or what you will?"</p> + +<p>"You don't understand me, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"Faith, and that's thrue. But we are at the baich, Mr. Neville, and I've +two miles along the coast to Liscannor."</p> + +<p>"Shall I make Barney take you round in the canoe?"</p> + +<p>"I believe I may as well walk it. Good-bye, Mr. Neville. I'm glad at any +rate to hear you say so distinctly that you are resolved at all hazards +to make that dear girl your wife." This he said, almost in a whisper, +standing close to the boat, with his hand on Neville's shoulder. He +paused a moment as though to give special strength to his words, and +Neville did not dare or was not able to protest against the assertion. +Father Marty himself was certainly not romantic in his manner of +managing such an affair as this in which they were now both concerned.</p> + +<p>Neville went back to Ennis much depressed, turning the matter over in +his mind almost hopelessly. This was what had come from his adventures! +No doubt he might marry the girl,—postponing his marriage till after +his uncle's death. For aught he knew as yet that might still be +possible. But were he to do so, he would disgrace his family, and +disgrace himself by breaking the solemn promise he had made. And in such +case he would be encumbered, and possibly be put beyond the pale of that +sort of life which should be his as Earl of Scroope, by having Captain +O'Hara as his father-in-law. He was aware now that he would be held by +all his natural friends to have ruined himself by such a marriage.</p> + +<p>On the other hand he could, no doubt, throw the girl over. They could +not make him marry her though they could probably make him pay very +dearly for not doing so. If he could only harden his heart sufficiently +he could escape in that way. But he was not hard, and he did feel that +so escaping, he would have a load on his breast which would make his +life unendurable. Already he was beginning to hate the coast of Ireland, +and to think that the gloom of Scroope Manor was preferable to it.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-3"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter III.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Fred Neville Receives a Visitor at Ennis.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>For something over three weeks after his walk with the priest Neville +saw neither of the two ladies of Ardkill. Letters were frequent between +the cottage and the barracks at Ennis, but,—so said Fred himself, +military duties detained him with the troop. He explained that he had +been absent a great deal, and that now Captain Johnstone was taking his +share of ease. He was all alone at the barracks, and could not get away. +There was some truth in this, created perhaps by the fact that as he +didn't stir, Johnstone could do so. Johnstone was backwards and forwards, +fishing at Castle Connel, and Neville was very exact in explaining that +for the present he was obliged to give up all the delights of the coast. +But the days were days of trial to him.</p> + +<p>A short history of the life of Captain O'Hara was absolutely sent to him +by the Countess of Scroope. The family lawyer, at the instance of the +Earl,—as she said, though probably her own interference had been more +energetic than that of the Earl,—had caused enquiries to be made. +Captain O'Hara, the husband of the lady who was now living on the coast +of County Clare, and who was undoubtedly the father of the Miss O'Hara +whom Fred knew, had passed at least ten of the latter years of his life +at the galleys in the south of France. He had been engaged in an +extensive swindling transaction at Bordeaux, and had thence been +transferred to Toulon, had there been maintained by France,—and was now +in London. The Countess in sending this interesting story to her nephew +at Ennis, with ample documentary evidence, said that she was sure that +he would not degrade his family utterly by thinking of allying himself +with people who were so thoroughly disreputable; but that, after all +that was passed, his uncle expected from him a renewed assurance on the +matter. He answered this in anger. He did not understand why the history +of Captain O'Hara should have been raked up. Captain O'Hara was nothing +to him. He supposed it had come from Castle Quin, and anything from +Castle Quin he disbelieved. He had given a promise once and he didn't +understand why he should be asked for any further assurance. He thought +it very hard that his life should be made a burden to him by +foul-mouthed rumours from Castle Quin. That was the tenour of his letter +to his aunt; but even that letter sufficed to make it almost certain +that he could never marry the girl. He acknowledged that he had bound +himself not to do so. And then, in spite of all that he said about the +mendacity of Castle Quin, he did believe the little history. And it was +quite out of the question that he should marry the daughter of a +returned galley-slave. He did not think that any jury in England would +hold him to be bound by such a promise. Of course he would do whatever +he could for his dear Kate; but, even after all that had passed, he +could not pollute himself by marriage with the child of so vile a +father. Poor Kate! Her sufferings would have been occasioned not by him, +but by her father.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Kate's letters to him became more and more frequent, +more and more sad,—filled ever with still increasing warmth of +entreaty. At last they came by every post, though he knew how difficult +it must be for her to find daily messengers into Ennistimon. Would he +not come and see her? He must come and see her. She was ill and would +die unless he came to her. He did not always answer these letters, but +he did write to her perhaps twice a week. He would come very soon,—as +soon as Johnstone had come back from his fishing. She was not to fret +herself. Of course he could not always be at Ardkill. He too had things +to trouble him. Then he told her he had received letters from home which +caused him very much trouble; and there was a something of sharpness in +his words, which brought from her a string of lamentations in which, +however, the tears and wailings did not as yet take the form of +reproaches. Then there came a short note from Mrs. O'Hara herself. "I +must beg that you will come to Ardkill at once. It is absolutely +necessary for Kate's safety that you should do so."</p> + +<p>When he received this he thought that he would go on the morrow. When +the morrow came he determined to postpone the journey another day! The +calls of duty are so much less imperious than those of pleasure! On that +further day he still meant to go, as he sat about noon unbraced, only +partly dressed in his room at the barracks. His friend Johnstone was back +in Ennis, and there was also a Cornet with the troop. He had no excuse +whatever on the score of military duty for remaining at home on that +day. But he sat idling his time, thinking of things. All the charm of +the adventure was gone. He was sick of the canoe and of Barney Morony. +He did not care a straw for the seals or wild gulls. The moaning of the +ocean beneath the cliff was no longer pleasurable to him,—and as to the +moaning at their summit, to tell the truth, he was afraid of it. The +long drive thither and back was tedious to him. He thought now more of +the respectability of his family than of the beauty of Kate O'Hara.</p> + +<p>But still he meant to go,—certainly would go on this very day. He had +desired that his gig should be ready, and had sent word to say that he +might start at any moment. But still he sat in his dressing-gown at +noon, unbraced, with a novel in his hand which he could not read, and a +pipe by his side which he could not smoke. Close to him on the table lay +that record of the life of Captain O'Hara, which his aunt had sent him, +every word of which he had now examined for the third or fourth time. Of +course he could not marry the girl. Mrs. O'Hara had deceived him. She +could not but have known that her husband was a convict;—and had kept +the knowledge back from him in order that she might allure him to the +marriage. Anything that money could do, he would do. Or, if they would +consent, he would take the girl away with him to some sunny distant +clime, in which adventures might still be sweet, and would then devote +to her—some portion of his time. He had not yet ruined himself, but he +would indeed ruin himself were he, the heir to the earldom of Scroope, +to marry the daughter of a man who had been at the French galleys! He +had just made up his mind that he would be firm in this +resolution,—when the door opened and Mrs. O'Hara entered his room. +"Mrs. O'Hara."</p> + +<p>She closed the door carefully behind her before she spoke, excluding the +military servant who had wished to bar her entrance. "Yes, sir; as you +would not come to us I have been forced to come to you. I know it all. +When will you make my child your wife?"</p> + +<p>Yes. In the abjectness of her misery the poor girl had told her mother +the story of her disgrace; or, rather, in her weakness had suffered her +secret to fall from her lips. That terrible retribution was to come upon +her which, when sin has been mutual, falls with so crushing a weight +upon her who of the two sinners has ever been by far the less sinful. +She, when she knew her doom, simply found herself bound by still +stronger ties of love to him who had so cruelly injured her. She was his +before; but now she was more than ever his. To have him near her, to +give her orders that she might obey them, was the consolation that she +coveted,—the only consolation that could have availed anything to her. +To lean against him, and to whisper to him, with face averted, with +half-formed syllables, some fervent words that might convey to him a +truth which might be almost a joy to her if he would make it so,—was +the one thing that could restore hope to her bosom. Let him come and be +near to her, so that she might hide her face upon his breast. But he +came not. He did not come, though, as best she knew how, she had thrown +all her heart into her letters. Then her spirit sank within her, and she +sickened, and as her mother knelt over her, she allowed her secret to +fall from her.</p> + +<p>Fred Neville's sitting-room at Ennis was not a chamber prepared for the +reception of ladies. It was very rough, as are usually barrack rooms in +outlying quarters in small towns in the west of Ireland,—and it was +also very untidy. The more prudent and orderly of mankind might hardly +have understood why a young man, with prospects and present wealth such +as belonged to Neville, should choose to spend a twelvemonth in such a +room, contrary to the wishes of all his friends, when London was open to +him, and the continent, and scores of the best appointed houses in +England, and all the glories of ownership at Scroope. There were guns +about, and whips, hardly half a dozen books, and a few papers. There +were a couple of swords lying on a table that looked like a dresser. The +room was not above half covered with its carpet, and though there were +three large easy chairs, even they were torn and soiled. But all this +had been compatible with adventures,—and while the adventures were +simply romantic and not a bit troublesome, the barracks at Ennis had +been to him by far preferable to the gloomy grandeur of Scroope.</p> + +<p>And now Mrs. O'Hara was there, telling him that she knew of all! Not for +a moment did he remain ignorant of the meaning of her communication. And +now the arguments to be used against him in reference to the marriage +would be stronger than ever. A silly, painful smile came across his +handsome face as he attempted to welcome her, and moved a chair for her +accommodation. "I am so sorry that you have had the trouble of coming +over," he said.</p> + +<p>"That is nothing. When will you make my child your wife?" How was he to +answer this? In the midst of his difficulties he had brought himself to +one determination. He had resolved that under no pressure would he marry +the daughter of O'Hara, the galley-slave. As far as that, he had seen +his way. Should he now at once speak of the galley-slave, and, with +expressions of regret, decline the alliance on that reason? Having +dishonoured this woman's daughter should he shelter himself behind the +dishonour of her husband? That he meant to do so ultimately is true; but +at the present moment such a task would have required a harder heart +than his. She rose from her chair and stood close over him as she +repeated her demand, "When will you make my child your wife?"</p> + +<p>"You do not want me to answer you at this moment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—at this moment. Why not answer me at once? She has told me all. +Mr. Neville, you must think not only of her, but of your child also."</p> + +<p>"I hope not that," he said.</p> + +<p>"I tell you that it is so. Now answer me. When shall my Kate become your +wife?"</p> + +<p>He still knew that any such consummation as that was quite out of the +question. The mother herself as she was now present to him, seemed to be +a woman very different from the quiet, handsome, high-spirited, but +low-voiced widow whom he had known, or thought that he had known, at +Ardkill. Of her as she had there appeared to him he had not been ashamed +to think as one who might at some future time be personally related to +himself. He had recognized her as a lady whose outward trappings, poor +though they might be, were suited to the seclusion in which she lived. +But now, although it was only to Ennis that she had come from her nest +among the rocks, she seemed to be unfitted for even so much intercourse +with the world as that. And in the demand which she reiterated over him +she hardly spoke as a lady would speak. Would not all they who were +connected with him at home have a right to complain if he were to bring +such a woman with him to England as the mother of his wife. "I can't +answer such a question as that on the spur of the moment," he said.</p> + +<p>"You will not dare to tell me that you mean to desert her?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I was coming over to Ardkill this very day. The trap is +ordered. I hope Kate is well?"</p> + +<p>"She is not well. How should she be well?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? I didn't know. If there is anything that she wants that I can +get for her, you have only to speak."</p> + +<p>In the utter contempt which Mrs. O'Hara now felt for the man she +probably forgot that his immediate situation was one in which it was +nearly impossible that any man should conduct himself with dignity. +Having brought himself to his present pass by misconduct, he could +discover no line of good conduct now open to him. Moralists might tell +him that let the girl's parentage be what it might, he ought to marry +her; but he was stopped from that, not only by his oath, but by a +conviction that his highest duty required him to preserve his family +from degradation. And yet to a mother, with such a demand on her lips as +that now made by Mrs. O'Hara,—whose demand was backed by such +circumstances,—how was it possible that he should tell the truth and +plead the honour of his family? His condition was so cruel that it was +no longer possible to him to be dignified or even true. The mother again +made her demand. "There is one thing that you must do for her before +other things can be thought of. When shall she become your wife?"</p> + +<p>It was for a moment on his tongue to tell her that it could not be so +while his uncle lived;—but to this he at once felt that there were two +objections, directly opposed to each other, but each so strong as to +make any such reply very dangerous. It would imply a promise, which he +certainly did not intend to keep, of marrying the girl when his uncle +should be dead; and, although promising so much more than he intended to +perform, would raise the ungovernable wrath of the woman before him. +That he should now hesitate,—now, in her Kate's present condition,—as +to redeeming those vows of marriage which he had made to her in her +innocence, would raise a fury in the mother's bosom which he feared to +encounter. He got up and walked about the room, while she stood with her +eyes fixed upon him, ever and anon reiterating her demand. "No day must +now be lost. When will you make my child your wife?"</p> + +<p>At last he made a proposition to which she assented. The tidings which +she had brought him had come upon him very suddenly. He was +inexpressibly pained. Of course Kate, his dearest Kate, was everything +to him. Let him have that afternoon to think about it. On the morrow he +would assuredly visit Ardkill. The mother, full of fears, resolving that +should he attempt to play her girl false and escape from her she would +follow him to the end of the world, but feeling that at the present +moment she could not constrain him, accepted his repeated promise as to +the following day; and at last left him to himself.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-4"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter IV.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Neville's Success.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Neville sat in his room alone, without moving, for a couple of hours +after Mrs. O'Hara had left him. In what way should he escape from the +misery and ruin which seemed to surround him? An idea did cross his mind +that it would be better for him to fly and write the truth from the +comparatively safe distance of his London club. But there would be a +meanness in such conduct which would make it impossible that he should +ever again hold up his head. The girl had trusted to him, and by +trusting to him had brought herself to this miserable pass. He could not +desert her. It would be better that he should go and endure all the +vials of their wrath than that. To her he would still be tenderly +loving, if she would accept his love without the name which he could not +give her. His whole life he would sacrifice to her. Every luxury which +money could purchase he would lavish on her. He must go and make his +offer. The vials of wrath which would doubtless be poured out upon his +head would not come from her. In his heart of hearts he feared both the +priest and the mother. But there are moments in which a man feels +himself obliged to encounter all that he most fears;—and the man who +does not do so in such moments is a coward.</p> + +<p>He quite made up his mind to start early on the following morning; but +the intermediate hours were very sad and heavy, and his whole outlook +into life was troublesome to him. How infinitely better would it have +been for him had he allowed himself to be taught a twelvemonth since +that his duty required him to give up the army at once! But he had made +his bed, and now he must lie upon it. There was no escape from this +journey to Ardkill. Even though he should be stunned by their wrath he +must endure it.</p> + +<p>He breakfasted early the next day, and got into his gig before nine. He +must face the enemy, and the earlier that he did it the better. His +difficulty now lay in arranging the proposition that he would make and +the words that he should speak. Every difficulty would be smoothed and +every danger dispelled if he would only say that he would marry the girl +as quickly as the legal forms would allow. Father Marty, he knew, would +see to all that, and the marriage might be done effectually. He had +quite come to understand that Father Marty was practical rather than +romantic. But there would be cowardice in this as mean as that other +cowardice. He believed himself to be bound by his duty to his family. +Were he now to renew his promise of marriage, such renewal would be +caused by fear and not by duty, and would be mean. They should tear him +piecemeal rather than get from him such a promise. Then he thought of +the Captain, and perceived that he must make all possible use of the +Captain's character. Would anybody conceive that he, the heir of the +Scroope family, was bound to marry the daughter of a convict returned +from the galleys? And was it not true that such promise as he had made +had been obtained under false pretences? Why had he not been told of the +Captain's position when he first made himself intimate with the mother +and daughter?</p> + +<p>Instead of going as was his custom to Lahinch, and then rowing across +the bay and round the point, he drove his gig to the village of +Liscannor. He was sick of Barney Morony and the canoe, and never desired +to see either of them again. He was sick indeed, of everything Irish, +and thought that the whole island was a mistake. He drove however boldly +through Liscannor and up to Father Marty's yard, and, not finding the +priest at home, there left his horse and gig. He had determined that he +would first go to the priest and boldly declare that nothing should +induce him to marry the daughter of a convict. But Father Marty was not +at home. The old woman who kept his house believed that he had gone into +Ennistown. He was away with his horse, and would not be back till dinner +time. Then Neville, having seen his own nag taken from the gig, started +on his walk up to Ardkill.</p> + +<p>How ugly the country was to his eyes as he now saw it. Here and there +stood a mud cabin, and the small, half-cultivated fields, or rather +patches of land, in which the thin oat crops were beginning to be green, +were surrounded by low loose ramshackle walls, which were little more +than heaps of stone, so carelessly had they been built and so +negligently preserved. A few cocks and hens with here and there a +miserable, starved pig seemed to be the stock of the country. Not a +tree, not a shrub, not a flower was there to be seen. The road was +narrow, rough, and unused. The burial ground which he passed was the +liveliest sign of humanity about the place. Then the country became +still wilder, and there was no road. The oats also ceased, and the +walls. But he could hear the melancholy moan of the waves, which he had +once thought to be musical and had often sworn that he loved. Now the +place with all its attributes was hideous to him, distasteful, and +abominable. At last the cottage was in view, and his heart sank very +low. Poor Kate! He loved her dearly through it all. He endeavoured to +take comfort by assuring himself that his heart was true to her. Not for +worlds would he injure her;—that is, not for worlds, had any worlds +been exclusively his own. On account of the Scroope world,—which was a +world general rather than particular,—no doubt he must injure her most +horribly. But still she was his dear Kate, his own Kate, his Kate whom +he would never desert.</p> + +<p>When he came up to the cottage the little gate was open, and he knew +that somebody was there besides the usual inmates. His heart at once +told him that it was the priest. His fate had brought him face to face +with his two enemies at once! His breath almost left him, but he knew +that he could not run away. However bitter might be the vials of wrath +he must encounter them. So he knocked at the outer door and, after his +custom, walked into the passage. Then he knocked again at the door of +the one sitting-room,—the door which hitherto he had always passed with +the conviction that he should bring delight,—and for a moment there was +no answer. He heard no voice and he knocked again. The door was opened +for him, and as he entered he met Father Marty. But he at once saw that +there was another man in the room, seated in an arm chair near the +window. Kate, his Kate, was not there, but Mrs. O'Hara was standing at +the head of the sofa, far away from the window and close to the door. +"It is Mr. Neville," said the priest. "It is as well that he should come +in."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Neville," said the man rising from his chair, "I am informed that +you are a suitor for the hand of my daughter. Your prospects in life are +sufficient, sir, and I give my consent."</p> + +<p>The man was a thing horrible to look at, tall, thin, cadaverous, +ill-clothed, with his wretched and all but ragged overcoat buttoned +close up to his chin, with long straggling thin grizzled hair, +red-nosed, with a drunkard's eyes, and thin lips drawn down at the +corners of the mouth. This was Captain O'Hara; and if any man ever +looked like a convict returned from work in chains, such was the +appearance of this man. This was the father of Fred's Kate;—the man +whom it was expected that he, Frederic Neville, the future Earl of +Scroope, should take as his father-in-law! "This is Captain O'Hara," +said the priest. But even Father Marty, bold as he was, could not assume +the voice with which he had rebuked Neville as he walked with him, now +nearly a month ago, down to the beach.</p> + +<p>Neville did feel that the abomination of the man's appearance +strengthened his position. He stood looking from one to another, while +Mrs. O'Hara remained silent in the corner. "Perhaps," said he, "I had +better not be here. I am intruding."</p> + +<p>"It is right that you should know it all," said the priest. "As regards +the young lady it cannot now alter your position. This gentleman must +be—arranged for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said the Captain. "I must be—arranged for, and that so +soon as possible." The man spoke with a slightly foreign accent and in a +tone, as Fred thought, which savoured altogether of the galleys. "You +have done me the honour, I am informed, to make my daughter all your +own. These estimable people assure me that you hasten to make her your +wife on the instant. I consent. The O'Haras, who are of the very oldest +blood in Europe, have always connected themselves highly. Your uncle is +a most excellent nobleman whose hand I shall be proud to grasp." As he +thus spoke he stalked across the room to Fred, intending at once to +commence the work of grasping the Neville family.</p> + +<p>"Get back," said Fred, retreating to the door.</p> + +<p>"Is it that you fail to believe that I am your bride's father?"</p> + +<p>"I know not whose father you may be. Get back."</p> + +<p>"He is what he says he is," said the priest. "You should bear with him +for a while."</p> + +<p>"Where is Kate?" demanded Fred. It seemed as though, for the moment, he +were full of courage. He looked round at Mrs. O'Hara, but nobody +answered him. She was still standing with her eyes fixed upon the man, +almost as though she thought that she could dart out upon him and +destroy him. "Where is Kate?" he asked again. "Is she well?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough to hide herself from her old father," said the Captain, +brushing a tear from his eye with the back of his hand.</p> + +<p>"You shall see her presently, Mr. Neville," said the priest.</p> + +<p>Then Neville whispered a word into the priest's ear. "What is it that +the man wants?"</p> + +<p>"You need not regard that," said Father Marty.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Marty," said the Captain, "you concern yourself too closely in my +affairs. I prefer to open my thoughts and desires to my son-in-law. He +has taken measures which give him a right to interfere in the family. +Ha, ha, ha."</p> + +<p>"If you talk like that I'll stab you to the heart," said Mrs. O'Hara, +jumping forward. Then Fred Neville perceived that the woman had a dagger +in her hand which she had hitherto concealed from him as she stood up +against the wall behind the head of the sofa. He learnt afterwards that +the priest, having heard in Liscannor of the man's arrival, had hurried +up to the cottage, reaching it almost at the same moment with the +Captain. Kate had luckily at the moment been in her room and had not +seen her father. She was still in her bed and was ill;—but during the +scene that occurred afterwards she roused herself. But Mrs. O'Hara, even +in the priest's presence, had at once seized the weapon from the +drawer,—showing that she was prepared even for murder, had murder been +found necessary by her for her relief. The man had immediately asked as +to the condition of his daughter, and the mother had learned that her +child's secret was known to all Liscannor. The priest now laid his hand +upon her and stopped her, but he did it in all gentleness. "You'll have +a fierce pig of a mother-in-law, Mr. Neville," said the Captain, "but +your wife's father,—you'll find him always gentle and open to reason. +You were asking what I wanted."</p> + +<p>"Had I not better give him money?" suggested Neville.</p> + +<p>"No," said the priest shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Captain O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"If you will leave this place at once," said Neville, "and come to me +to-morrow morning at the Ennis barracks, I will give you money."</p> + +<p>"Give him none," said Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"My beloved is unreasonable. You would not be rid of me even were he to +be so hard. I should not die. Have I not proved to you that I am one +whom it is hard to destroy by privation. The family has been under a +cloud. A day of sunshine has come with this gallant young nobleman. Let +me partake the warmth. I will visit you, Mr. Neville, certainly;—but +what shall be the figure?"</p> + +<p>"That will be as I shall find you then."</p> + +<p>"I will trust you. I will come. The journey hence to Ennis is long for +one old as I am, and would be lightened by so small a trifle as—shall I +say a bank note of the meanest value." Upon this Neville handed him two +bank notes for £1 each, and Captain O'Hara walked forth out of his +wife's house.</p> + +<p>"He will never leave you now," said the priest.</p> + +<p>"He cannot hurt me. I will arrange with some man of business to pay him +a stipend as long as he never troubles our friend here. Though all the +world should know it, will it not be better so?"</p> + +<p>Great and terrible is the power of money. When this easy way out of +their immediate difficulties had been made by the rich man, even Mrs. +O'Hara with all her spirit was subdued for the moment, and the +reproaches of the priest were silenced for that hour. The young man had +seemed to behave well, had stood up as the friend of the suffering +women, and had been at any rate ready with his money. "And now," he +said, "where is Kate?" Then Mrs. O'Hara took him by the hand and led him +into the bedroom in which the poor girl had buried herself from her +father's embrace. "Is he gone?" she asked before even she would throw +herself into her lover's arms.</p> + +<p>"Neville has paid him money," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has gone," said Fred; "and I think,—I think that he will +trouble you no more."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred, oh, my darling, oh, my own one. At last, at last you have +come to me. Why have you stayed away? You will not stay away again? Oh, +Fred, you do love me? Say that you love me."</p> + +<p>"Better than all the world," he said pressing her to his bosom.</p> + +<p>He remained with her for a couple of hours, during which hardly a word +was said to him about his marriage. So great had been the effect upon +them all of the sudden presence of the Captain, and so excellent had +been the service rendered them by the trust which the Captain had placed +in the young man's wealth, that for this day both priest and mother were +incapacitated from making their claim with the vigour and intensity of +purpose which they would have shewn had Captain O'Hara not presented +himself at the cottage. The priest left them soon,—but not till it had +been arranged that Neville should go back to Ennis to prepare for his +reception of the Captain, and return to the cottage on the day after +that interview was over. He assumed on a sudden the practical views of a +man of business. He would take care to have an Ennis attorney with him +when speaking to the Captain, and would be quite prepared to go to the +extent of two hundred a year for the Captain's life, if the Captain +could be safely purchased for that money. "A quarter of it would do," +said Mrs. O'Hara. The priest thought £2 a week would be ample. "I'll be +as good as my word," said Fred. Kate sat looking into his face thinking +that he was still a god.</p> + +<p>"And you will certainly be here by noon on Sunday?" said Kate, clinging +to him when he rose to go.</p> + +<p>"Most certainly."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear Fred." And so he walked down the hill to the priest's house +almost triumphantly. He thought himself fortunate in not finding the +priest who had ridden off from Ardkill to some distant part of the +parish;—and then drove himself back to Ennis.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-5"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter V.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Fred Neville Is Again Called Home to Scroope.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Neville was intent upon business, and had not been back in Ennis from +the cottage half an hour before he obtained an introduction to an +attorney. He procured it through the sergeant-major of the troop. The +sergeant-major was intimate with the innkeeper, and the innkeeper was +able to say that Mr. Thaddeus Crowe was an honest, intelligent, and +peculiarly successful lawyer. Before he sat down to dinner Fred Neville +was closeted at the barracks with Mr. Crowe.</p> + +<p>He began by explaining to Mr. Crowe who he was. This he did in order +that the attorney might know that he had the means of carrying out his +purpose. Mr. Crowe bowed, and assured his client that on that score he +had no doubts whatever. Nevertheless Mr. Crowe's first resolve, when he +heard of the earldom and of the golden prospects, was to be very careful +not to pay any money out of his own pocket on behalf of the young +officer, till he made himself quite sure that it would be returned to +him with interest. As the interview progressed, however, Mr. Crowe began +to see his way, and to understand that the golden prospects were not +pleaded because the owner of them was himself short of cash. Mr. Crowe +soon understood the whole story. He had heard of Captain O'Hara, and +believed the man to be as thorough a blackguard as ever lived. When +Neville told the attorney of the two ladies, and of the anxiety which he +felt to screen them from the terrible annoyance of the Captain's visits, +Mr. Crowe smiled, but made no remark. "It will be enough for you to know +that I am in earnest about it," said the future Earl, resenting even the +smile. Mr. Crowe bowed, and asked his client to finish the story. "The +man is to be with me to-morrow, here, at twelve, and I wish you to be +present. Mr. Crowe, my intention is to give him two hundred pounds a +year as long as he lives."</p> + +<p>"Two hundred a year!" said the Ennis attorney, to whom such an annuity +seemed to be exorbitant as the purchase-money for a returned convict.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I have already mentioned that sum to his wife, though not to +him."</p> + +<p>"I should reconsider it, Mr. Neville."</p> + +<p>"Thank you;—but I have made up my mind. The payments will be made of +course only on condition that he troubles neither of the ladies either +personally or by letter. It might be provided that it shall be paid to +him weekly in France, but will not be paid should he leave that country. +You will think of all this, and will make suggestions to-morrow. I shall +be glad to have the whole thing left in your hands, so that I need +simply remit the cheques to you. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of +seeing you to-morrow at twelve." Mr. Crowe promised to turn the matter +over in his mind and to be present at the hour named. Neville carried +himself very well through the interview, assuming with perfect ease the +manners of the great and rich man who had only to give his orders with a +certainty that they would be obeyed. Mr. Crowe, when he went out from +the young man's presence, had no longer any doubt on his mind as to his +client's pecuniary capability.</p> + +<p>On the following day at twelve o'clock, Captain O'Hara, punctual to the +minute, was at the barracks; and there also sitting in Neville's room, +was the attorney. But Neville himself was not there, and the Captain +immediately felt that he had been grossly imposed upon and swindled. +"And who may I have the honour of addressing, when I speak to you, sir?" +demanded the Captain.</p> + +<p>"I am a lawyer."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Neville,—my own son-in-law,—has played me that trick!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Crowe explained that no trick had been played, but did so in +language which was no doubt less courteous than would have been used had +Mr. Neville been present. As, however, the cause of our hero's absence +is more important to us than the Captain's prospects that must be first +explained.</p> + +<p>As soon as the attorney left him Neville had sat down to dinner with his +two brother officers, but was not by any means an agreeable companion. +When they attempted to joke with him as to the young lady on the cliffs, +he showed very plainly that he did not like it; and when Cornet +Simpkinson after dinner raised his glass to drink a health to Miss +O'Hara, Mr. Neville told him that he was an impertinent ass. It was then +somewhat past nine, and it did not seem probable that the evening would +go off pleasantly. Cornet Simpkinson lit his cigar, and tried to wink at +the Captain. Neville stretched out his legs and pretended to go to +sleep. At this moment it was a matter of intense regret to him that he +had ever seen the West of Ireland.</p> + +<p>At a little before ten Captain Johnstone retired, and the Cornet attempted +an apology. He had not meant to say anything that Neville would not +like. "It doesn't signify, my dear boy; only as a rule, never mention +women's names," said Neville, speaking as though he were fully fitted by +his experience to lay down the law on a matter so delicate. "Perhaps one +hadn't better," said the Cornet,—and then that little difficulty was +over. Cornet Simpkinson however thought of it all afterwards, and felt +that that evening and that hour had been more important than any other +evening or any other hour in his life.</p> + +<p>At half-past ten, when Neville was beginning to think that he would take +himself to bed, and was still cursing the evil star which had brought +him to County Clare, there arose a clatter at the outside gate of the +small barrack-yard. A man had posted all the way down from Limerick and +desired to see Mr. Neville at once. The man had indeed come direct from +Scroope,—by rail from Dublin to Limerick, and thence without delay on +to Ennis. The Earl of Scroope was dead, and Frederic Neville was Earl of +Scroope. The man brought a letter from Miss Mellerby, telling him the +sad news and conjuring him in his aunt's name to come at once to the +Manor. Of course he must start at once for the Manor. Of course he must +attend as first mourner at his uncle's grave before he could assume his +uncle's name and fortune.</p> + +<p>In that first hour of his greatness the shock to him was not so great +but that he at once thought of the O'Haras. He would leave Ennis the +following morning at six, so as to catch the day mail train out of +Limerick for Dublin. That was a necessity; but though so very short a +span of time was left to him, he must still make arrangements about the +O'Haras. He had hardly heard the news half an hour before he himself was +knocking at the door of Mr. Crowe the attorney. He was admitted, and Mr. +Crowe descended to him in a pair of slippers and a very old +dressing-gown. Mr. Crowe, as he held his tallow candle up to his +client's face, looked as if he didn't like it. "I know I must +apologize," said Neville, "but I have this moment received news of my +uncle's death."</p> + +<p>"The Earl?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"And I have now the honour of—speaking to the Earl of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that. I must start for England almost immediately. I haven't +above an hour or two. You must see that man, O'Hara, without me."</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my lord."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't speak to me in that way yet," said Neville angrily. "You +will be good enough to understand that the terms are fixed;—two hundred +a year as long, as he remains in France and never molests anyone either +by his presence or by letter. Thank you. I shall be so much obliged to +you! I shall be back here after the funeral, and will arrange about +payments. Good-night."</p> + +<p>So it happened that Captain O'Hara had no opportunity on that occasion +of seeing his proposed son-in-law. Mr. Crowe, fully crediting the power +confided to him, did as he was bidden. He was very harsh to the poor +Captain; but in such a condition a man can hardly expect that people +should not be harsh to him. The Captain endeavoured to hold up his head, +and to swagger, and to assume an air of pinchbeck respectability. But +the attorney would not permit it. He required that the man should own +himself to be penniless, a scoundrel, only anxious to be bought; and the +Captain at last admitted the facts. The figure was the one thing +important to him,—the figure and the nature of the assurance. Mr. Crowe +had made his calculations, and put the matter very plainly. A certain +number of francs,—a hundred francs,—would be paid to him weekly at any +town in France he might select,—which however would be forfeited by any +letter written either to Mrs. O'Hara, to Miss O'Hara, or to the Earl.</p> + +<p>"The Earl!" ejaculated the Captain.</p> + +<p>Mr. Crowe had been unable to refrain his tongue from the delicious +title, but now corrected himself. "Nor Mr. Neville, I mean. No one will +be bound to give you a farthing, and any letter asking for anything more +will forfeit the allowance altogether." The Captain vainly endeavoured +to make better terms, and of course accepted those proposed to him. He +would live in Paris,—dear Paris. He took five pounds for his journey, +and named an agent for the transmission of his money.</p> + +<p>And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. He had still one other task +to perform before he could make his journey home. He had to send tidings +in some shape to Ardkill of what had happened. As he returned to the +barracks from Mr. Crowe's residence he thought wholly of this. That +other matter was now arranged. As one item of the cost of his adventure +in County Clare he must pay two hundred a year to that reprobate, the +Captain, as long as the reprobate chose to live,—and must also pay Mr. +Crowe's bill for his assistance. This was a small matter to him as his +wealth was now great, and he was not a man by nature much prone to think +of money. Nevertheless it was a bad beginning of his life. Though he had +declared himself to be quite indifferent on that head, he did feel that +the arrangement was not altogether reputable,—that it was one which he +could not explain to his own man of business without annoyance, and +which might perhaps give him future trouble. Now he must prepare his +message for the ladies at Ardkill,—especially to the lady whom on his +last visit to the cottage he had found armed with a dagger for the +reception of her husband. And as he returned back to the barracks it +occurred to him that a messenger might be better than a letter. +"Simpkinson," he said, going at once into the young man's bed-room, +"have you heard what has happened to me?" Simpkinson had heard all about +it, and expressed himself as "deucedly sorry" for the old man's death, +but seemed to think that there might be consolation for that sorrow. "I +must go to Scroope immediately," said Neville. "I have explained it all +to Johnstone, and shall start almost at once. I shall first lie down and +get an hour's sleep. I want you to do something for me." Simpkinson was +devoted. Simpkinson would do anything. "I cut up a little rough just now +when you mentioned Miss O'Hara's name." Simpkinson declared that he did +not mind it in the least, and would never pronounce the name again as +long as he lived. "But I want you to go and see her to-morrow," said +Neville. Then Simpkinson sat bolt upright in bed.</p> + +<p>Of course the youthful warrior undertook the commission. What youthful +warrior would not go any distance to see a beautiful young lady on a +cliff, and what youthful warrior would not undertake any journey to +oblige a brother officer who was an Earl? Full instructions were at once +given to him. He had better ask to see Mrs. O'Hara,—in describing whom +Neville made no allusion to the dagger. He was told how to knock at the +door, and send in word by the servant to say that he had called on +behalf of Mr. Neville. He was to drive as far as Liscannor, and then get +some boy to accompany him on foot as a guide. He would not perhaps mind +walking two or three miles. Simpkinson declared that were it ten he +would not mind it. He was then to tell Mrs. O'Hara—just the truth. He +was to say that a messenger had come from Scroope announcing the death +of the Earl, and that Neville had been obliged to start at once for +England.</p> + +<p>"But you will be back?" said Simpkinson.</p> + +<p>Neville paused a moment. "Yes, I shall be back, but don't say anything +of that to either of the ladies."</p> + +<p>"Must I say I don't know? They'll be sure to ask, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Of course they'll ask. Just tell them that the whole thing has been +arranged so quickly that nothing has been settled, but that they shall +hear from me at once. You can say that you suppose I shall be back, but +that I promised that I would write. Indeed that will be the exact truth, +as I don't at all know what I may do. Be as civil to them as possible."</p> + +<p>"That's of course."</p> + +<p>"They are ladies, you know."</p> + +<p>"I supposed that."</p> + +<p>"And I am most desirous to do all in my power to oblige them. You can +say that I have arranged that other matter satisfactorily."</p> + +<p>"That other matter?"</p> + +<p>"They'll understand. The mother will at least, and you'd better say that +to her. You'll go early."</p> + +<p>"I'll start at seven if you like."</p> + +<p>"Eight or nine will do. Thank you, Simpkinson. I'm so much obliged to +you. I hope I shall see you over in England some day when things are a +little settled." With this Simpkinson was delighted,—as he was also +with the commission entrusted to him.</p> + +<p>And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. Not that he owned even to +himself that the title and all belonging to it were as yet in his own +possession. Till the body of the old man should be placed in the family +vault he would still be simply Fred Neville, a lieutenant in Her +Majesty's 20th Hussars. As he travelled home to Scroope, to the old +gloomy mansion which was now in truth not only his home, but his own +house, to do just as he pleased with it, he had much to fill his mind. +He was himself astonished to find with how great a weight his new +dignities sat upon his shoulders, now that they were his own. But a few +months since he had thought and even spoken of shifting them from +himself to another, so that he might lightly enjoy a portion of the +wealth which would belong to him without burdening himself with the +duties of his position. He would take his yacht, and the girl he loved, +and live abroad, with no present record of the coronet which would have +descended to him, and with no assumption of the title. But already that +feeling had died away within him. A few words spoken to him by the +priest and a few serious thoughts within his own bosom had sufficed to +explain to him that he must be the Earl of Scroope. The family honours +had come to him, and he must support them,—either well or ill as his +strength and principles might govern him. And he did understand that it +was much to be a peer, an hereditary legislator, one who by the chance +of his birth had a right to look for deferential respect even from his +elders. It was much to be the lord of wide acres, the ruler of a large +domain, the landlord of many tenants who would at any rate regard +themselves as dependent on his goodness. It was much to be so placed +that no consideration of money need be a bar to any wish,—that the +considerations which should bar his pleasures need be only those of +dignity, character, and propriety. His uncle had told him more than once +how much a peer of England owed to his country and to his order;—how +such a one is bound by no ordinary bonds to a life of high resolves, and +good endeavours. "Sans reproche" was the motto of his house, and was +emblazoned on the wall of the hall that was now his own. If it might be +possible to him he would live up to it and neither degrade his order nor +betray his country.</p> + +<p>But as he thought of all this, he thought also of Kate O'Hara. With what +difficulties had he surrounded the commencement of this life which he +purposed to lead! How was he to escape from the mess of trouble which he +had prepared for himself by his adventures in Ireland. An idea floated +across his mind that very many men who stand in their natural manhood +high in the world's esteem, have in their early youth formed ties such +as that which now bound him to Kate O'Hara,—that they have been silly +as he had been, and had then escaped from the effects of their folly +without grievous damage. But yet he did not see his mode of escape. If +money could do it for him he would make almost any sacrifice. If wealth +and luxury could make his Kate happy, she should be happy as a Princess. +But he did not believe either of her or of her mother that any money +would be accepted as a sufficient atonement. And he hated himself for +suggesting to himself that it might be possible. The girl was good, and +had trusted him altogether. The mother was self-denying, devoted, and +high-spirited. He knew that money would not suffice.</p> + +<p>He need not return to Ireland unless he pleased. He could send over some +agent to arrange his affairs, and allow the two women to break their +hearts in their solitude upon the cliffs. Were he to do so he did not +believe that they would follow him. They would write doubtless, but +personally he might, probably, be quit of them in this fashion. But in +this there would be a cowardice and a meanness which would make it +impossible that he should ever again respect himself.</p> + +<p>And thus he again entered Scroope, the lord and owner of all that he saw +around him,—with by no means a happy heart or a light bosom.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-6"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter VI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">The Earl of Scroope Is in Trouble.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Not a word was said to the young lord on his return home respecting the +O'Haras till he himself had broached the subject. He found his brother +Jack Neville at Scroope on his arrival, and Sophie Mellerby was still +staying with his aunt. A day had been fixed for the funeral, but no one +had ventured to make any other arrangement till the heir and owner +should be there. He was received with solemn respect by the old servants +who, as he observed, abstained from calling him by any name. They knew +that it did not become them to transfer the former lord's title to the +heir till all that remained of the former lord should be hidden from the +world in the family vault; but they could not bring themselves to +address a real Earl as Mr. Neville. His aunt was broken down by sorrow, +but nevertheless, she treated him with a courtly deference. To her he +was now the reigning sovereign among the Nevilles, and all Scroope and +everything there was at his disposal. When he held her by the hand and +spoke of her future life she only shook her head. "I am an old woman, +though not in years old as was my lord. But my life is done, and it +matters not where I go."</p> + +<p>"Dear aunt, do not speak of going. Where can you be so well as here?" +But she only shook her head again and wept afresh. Of course it would +not be fitting that she should remain in the house of the young Earl who +was only her nephew by marriage. Scroope Manor would now become a house +of joy, would be filled with the young and light of heart; there would +be feasting there and dancing; horses neighing before the doors, throngs +of carriages, new furniture, bright draperies, and perhaps, alas, loud +revellings. It would not be fit that such a one as she should be at +Scroope now that her lord had left her.</p> + +<p>The funeral was an affair not of pomp but of great moment in those +parts. Two or three Nevilles from other counties came to the house, as +did also sundry relatives bearing other names. Mr. Mellerby was there, +and one or two of the late Earl's oldest friends; but the great +gathering was made up of the Scroope tenants, not one of whom failed to +see his late landlord laid in his grave. "My Lord," said an old man to +Fred, one who was himself a peer and was the young lord's cousin though +they two had never met before, "My Lord," said the old man, as soon as +they had returned from the grave, "you are called upon to succeed as +good a man as ever it has been my lot to know. I loved him as a brother. +I hope you will not lightly turn away from his example." Fred made some +promise which at the moment he certainly intended to perform.</p> + +<p>On the next morning the will was read. There was nothing in it, nor +could there have been anything in it, which might materially affect the +interests of the heir. The late lord's widow was empowered to take away +from Scroope anything that she desired. In regard to money she was +provided for so amply that money did not matter to her. A whole year's +income from the estates was left to the heir in advance, so that he +might not be driven to any momentary difficulty in assuming the +responsibilities of his station. A comparatively small sum was left to +Jack Neville, and a special gem to Sophie Mellerby. There were bequests +to all the servants, a thousand pounds to the vicar of the +parish,—which perhaps was the only legacy which astonished the +legatee,—and his affectionate love to every tenant on the estate. All +the world acknowledged that it was as good a will as the Earl could have +made. Then the last of the strangers left the house, and the Earl of +Scroope was left to begin his reign and do his duty as best he might.</p> + +<p>Jack had promised to remain with him for a few days, and Sophie +Mellerby, who had altogether given up her London season, was to stay +with the widow till something should be settled as to a future +residence. "If my aunt will only say that she will keep the house for a +couple of years, she shall have it," said Fred to the young +lady,—perhaps wishing to postpone for so long a time the embarrassment +of the large domain; but to this Lady Scroope would not consent. If +allowed she would remain till the end of July. By that time she would +find herself a home.</p> + +<p>"For the life of me, I don't know how to begin my life," said the new +peer to his brother as they were walking about the park together.</p> + +<p>"Do not think about beginning it at all. You won't be angry, and will +know what I mean, when I say that you should avoid thinking too much of +your own position."</p> + +<p>"How am I to help thinking of it? It is so entirely changed from what it +was."</p> + +<p>"No Fred,—not entirely; nor as I hope, is it changed at all in those +matters which are of most importance to you. A man's self, and his ideas +of the manner in which he should rule himself, should be more to him +than any outward accidents. Had that cousin of ours never died—"</p> + +<p>"I almost wish he never had."</p> + +<p>"It would then have been your ambition to live as an honourable +gentleman. To be that now should be more to you than to be an Earl and a +man of fortune."</p> + +<p>"It's very easy to preach, Jack. You were always good at that. But here +I am, and what am I to do? How am I to begin? Everybody says that I am +to change nothing. The tenants will pay their rents, and Burnaby will +look after things outside, and Mrs. Bunce will look after the things +inside, and I may sit down and read a novel. When the gloom of my +uncle's death has passed away, I suppose I shall buy a few more horses +and perhaps begin to make a row about the pheasants. I don't know what +else there is to do."</p> + +<p>"You'll find that there are duties."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall. Something is expected of me. I am to keep up the +honour of the family; but it really seems to me that the best way of +doing so would be to sit in my uncle's arm chair and go to sleep as he +did."</p> + +<p>"As a first step in doing something you should get a wife for yourself. +If once you had a settled home, things would arrange themselves round +you very easily."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes;—a wife. You know, Jack, I told you about that girl in County +Clare."</p> + +<p>"You must let nothing of that kind stand in your way."</p> + +<p>"Those are your ideas of high moral grandeur! Just now my own personal +conduct was to be all in all to me, and the rank nothing. Now I am to +desert a girl I love because I am an English peer."</p> + +<p>"What has passed between you and the young lady, of course I do not +know."</p> + +<p>"I may as well tell you the whole truth," said Fred. And he told it. He +told it honestly,—almost honestly. It is very hard for a man to tell a +story truly against himself, but he intended to tell the whole truth. +"Now what must I do? Would you have me marry her?" Jack Neville paused +for a long time. "At any rate you can say yes, or no."</p> + +<p>"It is very hard to say yes, or no."</p> + +<p>"I can marry no one else. I can see my way so far. You had better tell +Sophie Mellerby everything, and then a son of yours shall be the future +Earl."</p> + +<p>"We are both of us young as yet, Fred, and need not think of that. If +you do mean to marry Miss O'Hara you should lose not a day;—not a day."</p> + +<p>"But what if I don't. You are always very ready with advice, but you +have given me none as yet."</p> + +<p>"How can I advise you? I should have heard the very words in which you +made your promise before I could dare to say whether it should be kept +or broken. As a rule a man should keep his word."</p> + +<p>"Let the consequences be what they may?"</p> + +<p>"A man should keep his word certainly. And I know no promise so solemn +as that made to a woman when followed by conduct such as yours has +been."</p> + +<p>"And what will people say then as to my conduct to the family? How will +they look on me when I bring home the daughter of that scoundrel?"</p> + +<p>"You should have thought of that before."</p> + +<p>"But I was not told. Do you not see that I was deceived there. Mrs. +O'Hara clearly said that the man was dead. And she told me nothing of +the galleys."</p> + +<p>"How could she tell you that?"</p> + +<p>"But if she has deceived me, how can I be expected to keep my promise? I +love the girl dearly. If I could change places with you, I would do so +this very minute, and take her away with me, and she should certainly be +my wife. If it were only myself, I would give up all to her. I would, by +heaven. But I cannot sacrifice the family. As to solemn promises, did I +not swear to my uncle that I would not disgrace the family by such a +marriage? Almost the last word that I spoke to him was that. Am I to be +untrue to him? There are times in which it seems impossible that a man +should do right."</p> + +<p>"There are times in which a man may be too blind to see the right," said +Jack,—sparing his brother in that he did not remind him that those +dilemmas always come from original wrong-doing.</p> + +<p>"I think I am resolved not to marry her," said Fred.</p> + +<p>"If I were in your place I think I should marry her," said Jack;—"but I +will not speak with certainty even of myself."</p> + +<p>"I shall not. But I will be true to her all the same. You may be sure +that I shall not marry at all." Then he recurred to his old scheme. "If +I can find any mode of marrying her in some foreign country, so that her +son and mine shall not be the legitimate heir to the title and estates, +I would go there at once with her, though it were to the further end of +the world. You can understand now what I mean when I say that I do not +know how to begin." Jack acknowledged that in that matter he did +understand his brother. It is always hard for a man to commence any new +duty when he knows that he has a millstone round his neck which will +probably make that duty impracticable at last.</p> + +<p>He went on with his life at Scroope for a week after the funeral without +resolving upon anything, or taking any steps towards solving the O'Hara +difficulty. He did ride about among the tenants, and gave some trifling +orders as to the house and stables. His brother was still with him, and +Miss Mellerby remained at the Manor. But he knew that the thunder-cloud +must break over his head before long, and at last the storm was +commenced. The first drops fell upon him in the soft form of a letter +from Kate O'Hara.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Fred</span>,</p> + +<p>I am not quite sure that I ought to address you like that; but I always +shall unless you tell me not. We have been expecting a letter from you +every day since you went. Your friend from Ennis came here, and brought +us the news of your uncle's death. We were very sorry; at least I was +certainly. I liked to think of you a great deal better as my own Fred, +than as a great lord. But you will still be my own Fred always; will you +not?</p> + +<p>Mother said at once that it was a matter of course that you should go to +England; but your friend, whose name we never heard, said that you had +sent him especially to promise that you would write quite immediately, +and that you would come back very soon. I do not know what he will think +of me, because I asked him whether he was quite, quite sure that you +would come back. If he thinks that I love you better than my own soul, +he only thinks the truth.</p> + +<p>Pray,—pray write at once. Mother is getting vexed because there is no +letter. I am never vexed with my own darling love, but I do so long for +a letter. If you knew how I felt, I do think you would write almost +every day,—if it were only just one short word. If you would say, 'Dear +Love,' that would be enough. And pray come. Oh do, do, pray come! Cannot +you think how I must long to see you! The gentleman who came here said +that you would come, and I know you will. But pray come soon. Think, +now, how you are all the world to me. You are more than all the world to +me.</p> + +<p>I am not ill as I was when you were here. But I never go outside the +door now. I never shall go outside the door again till you come. I don't +care now for going out upon the rocks. I don't care even for the birds +as you are not here to watch them with me. I sit with the skin of the +seal you gave me behind my head, and I pretend to sleep. But though I am +quite still for hours I am not asleep, but thinking always of you.</p> + +<p>We have neither seen or heard anything more of my father, and Father +Marty says that you have managed about that very generously. You are +always generous and good. I was so wretched all that day, that I thought +I should have died. You will not think ill of your Kate, will you, +because her father is bad?</p> + +<p>Pray write when you get this, and above all things let us know when you +will come to us.</p> + +<p class="ind5">Always, always, and always,</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your own</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Kate</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>Two days after this, while the letter was still unanswered, there came +another from Mrs. O'Hara which was, if possible, more grievous to him +than that from her daughter.</p> + +<p>"My Lord," the letter began. When he read this he turned from it with a +sickening feeling of disgust. Of course the woman knew that he was now +Earl of Scroope; but it would have been so desirable that there should +have been no intercourse between her and him except under the name by +which she had hitherto known him. And then in the appellation as she +used it there seemed to be a determination to reproach him which must, +he knew, lead to great misery.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Lord</span>,</p> + +<p>The messenger you sent to us brought us good news, and told us that you +were gone home to your own affairs. That I suppose was right, but why +have you not written to us before this? Why have you not told my poor +girl that you will come to her, and atone to her for the injury you have +done in the only manner now possible? I cannot and do not believe that +you intend to evade the solemn promises that you have made her, and +allow her to remain here a ruined outcast, and the mother of your child. +I have thought you to be both a gentleman and a christian, and I still +think so. Most assuredly you would be neither were you disposed to leave +her desolate, while you are in prosperity.</p> + +<p>I call upon you, my lord, in the most solemn manner, with all the energy +and anxiety of a mother,—of one who will be of all women the most +broken-hearted if you wrong her,—to write at once and let me know when +you will be here to keep your promise. For the sake of your own +offspring I implore you not to delay.</p> + +<p>We feel under deep obligations to you for what you did in respect of +that unhappy man. We have never for a moment doubted your generosity.</p> + +<p>Yours, My Lord,</p> + +<p class="ind2">With warmest affection, if you will admit it,</p> + +<p class="jright"><span class="smallcaps">C. O'Hara</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S. I ask you to come at once +and keep your word. Were you to think of +breaking it, I would follow you through the world.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>The young Earl, when he received this, was not at a loss for a moment to +attribute the body of Mrs. O'Hara's letter to Father Marty's power of +composition, and the postscript to the unaided effort of the lady +herself. Take it as he might—as coming from Mrs. O'Hara or from the +priest,—he found the letter to be a great burden to him. He had not as +yet answered the one received from Kate, as to the genuineness of which +he had entertained no doubt. How should he answer such letters? Some +answer must of course be sent, and must be the forerunner of his future +conduct. But how should he write his letter when he had not as yet +resolved what his conduct should be?</p> + +<p>He did attempt to write a letter, not to either of the ladies, but to +the priest, explaining that in the ordinary sense of the word he could +not and would not marry Miss O'Hara, but that in any way short of that +legitimate and usual mode of marriage, he would bind himself to her, and +that when so bound he would be true to her for life. He would make any +settlement that he, Father Marty, might think right either upon the +mother or upon the daughter. But Countess of Scroope the daughter of +that Captain O'Hara should not become through his means. Then he +endeavoured to explain the obligation laid upon him by his uncle, and +the excuse which he thought he could plead in not having been informed +of Captain O'Hara's existence. But the letter when written seemed to him +to be poor and mean, cringing and at the same time false. He told +himself that it would not suffice. It was manifest to him that he must +go back to County Clare, even though he should encounter Mrs. O'Hara, +dagger in hand. What was any personal danger to himself in such an +affair as this? And if he did not fear a woman's dagger, was he to fear +a woman's tongue,—or the tongue of a priest? So he tore the letter, and +resolved that he would write and name a day on which he would appear at +Ardkill. At any rate such a letter as that might be easily written, and +might be made soft with words of love.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote><blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Kate</span>,</p> + +<p>I will be with you on the 15th or on the 16th at latest. You should +remember that a man has a good deal to do and think of when he gets +pitchforked into such a new phase of life as mine. Do not, however, +think that I quarrel with you, my darling. That I will never do. My love +to your mother.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Ever your own,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Fred</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">I hate signing the other name.<br /> </p> +</blockquote></blockquote> + + +<p>This letter was not only written but sent.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-7"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter VII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Sans Reproche.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Three or four days after writing his letter to Kate O'Hara, the Earl +told his aunt that he must return to Ireland, and he named the day on +which he would leave Scroope. "I did not think that you would go back +there," she said. He could see by the look of her face and by the +anxious glance of her eye that she had in her heart the fear of Kate +O'Hara,—as he had also.</p> + +<p>"I must return. I came away at a moment's notice."</p> + +<p>"But you have written about leaving the regiment."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I have done that. In the peculiar circumstances I don't suppose +they will want me to serve again. Indeed I've had a letter, just a +private note, from one of the fellows at the Horse Guards explaining all +that."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you should go at all;—indeed I do not."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do about my things? I owe some money. I've got three or +four horses there. My very clothes are all about just as I left them +when I came away."</p> + +<p>"Any body can manage all that. Give the horses away."</p> + +<p>"I had rather not give away my horses," he said laughing. "The fact is I +must go." She could urge nothing more to him on that occasion. She did +not then mention the existence of Kate O'Hara. But he knew well that she +was thinking of the girl, and he knew also that the activity of Lady +Mary Quin had not slackened. But his aunt, he thought, was more afraid +of him now that he was the Earl than she had been when he was only the +heir; and it might be that this feeling would save him from the mention +of Kate O'Hara's name.</p> + +<p>To some extent the dowager was afraid of her nephew. She knew at least +that the young man was all-powerful and might act altogether as he +listed. In whatever she might say she could not now be supported by the +authority of the Lord of Scroope. He himself was lord of Scroope; and +were he to tell her simply to hold her tongue and mind her own business +she could only submit. But she was not the woman to allow any sense of +fear, or any solicitude as to the respect due to herself, to stand in +the way of the performance of a duty. It may be declared on her behalf +that had it been in her nephew's power to order her head off in +punishment for her interference, she would still have spoken had she +conceived it to be right to speak.</p> + +<p>But within her own bosom there had been dreadful conflicts as to that +duty. Lady Mary Quin had by no means slackened her activity. Lady Mary +Quin had learned the exact condition of Kate O'Hara, and had sent the +news to her friend with greedy rapidity. And in sending it Lady Mary +Quin entertained no slightest doubt as to the duty of the present Earl +of Scroope. According to her thinking it could not be the duty of an +Earl of Scroope in any circumstances to marry a Kate O'Hara. There are +women, who in regard to such troubles as now existed at Ardkill cottage, +always think that the woman should be punished as the sinner and that +the man should be assisted to escape. The hardness of heart of such +women,—who in all other views of life are perhaps tender and +soft-natured,—is one of the marvels of our social system. It is as +though a certain line were drawn to include all women,—a line, but, +alas, little more than a line,—by overstepping which, or rather by +being known to have overstepped it, a woman ceases to be a woman in the +estimation of her own sex. That the existence of this feeling has strong +effect in saving women from passing the line, none of us can doubt. That +its general tendency may be good rather than evil, is possible. But the +hardness necessary to preserve the rule, a hardness which must be +exclusively feminine but which is seldom wanting, is a marvellous +feature in the female character. Lady Mary Quin probably thought but +little on the subject. The women in the cottage on the cliff, who were +befriended by Father Marty, were to her dangerous scheming Roman +Catholic adventurers. The proper triumph of Protestant virtue required +that they should fail in their adventures. She had always known that +there would be something disreputable heard of them sooner or later. +When the wretched Captain came into the neighbourhood,—and she soon +heard of his coming,—she was gratified by feeling that her convictions +had been correct. When the sad tidings as to poor Kate reached her ears, +she had "known that it would be so." That such a girl should be made +Countess of Scroope in reward for her wickedness would be to her an +event horrible, almost contrary to Divine Providence,—a testimony that +the Evil One was being allowed peculiar power at the moment, and would +no doubt have been used in her own circles to show the ruin that had +been brought upon the country by Catholic emancipation. She did not for +a moment doubt that the present Earl should be encouraged to break any +promises of marriage to the making of which he might have been allured.</p> + +<p>But it was not so with Lady Scroope. She, indeed, came to the same +conclusion as her friend, but she did so with much difficulty and after +many inward struggles. She understood and valued the customs of the +magic line. In her heart of hearts she approved of a different code of +morals for men and women. That which merited instant, and as regarded +this world, perpetual condemnation in a woman, might in a man be very +easily forgiven. A sigh, a shake of the head, and some small innocent +stratagem that might lead to a happy marriage and settlement in life +with increased income, would have been her treatment of such sin for the +heirs of the great and wealthy. She knew that the world could not afford +to ostracise the men,—though happily it might condemn the women. +Nevertheless, when she came to the single separated instance, though her +heart melted with no ruth for the woman,—in such cases the woman must +be seen before the ruth is felt,—though pity for Kate O'Hara did not +influence her, she did acknowledge the sanctity of a gentleman's word. +If, as Lady Mary told her, and as she could so well believe, the present +Earl of Scroope had given to this girl a promise that he would marry +her, if he had bound himself by his pledged word, as a nobleman and a +gentleman, how could she bid him become a perjured knave? Sans reproche! +Was he thus to begin to live and to deserve the motto of his house by +the conduct of his life?</p> + +<p>But then the evil that would be done was so great! She did not for a +moment doubt all that Lady Mary told her about the girl. The worst of it +had indeed been admitted. She was a Roman Catholic, ill-born, +ill-connected, damaged utterly by a parent so low that nothing lower +could possibly be raked out of the world's gutters. And now the girl +herself was—a castaway. Such a marriage as that of which Lady Mary +spoke would not only injure the house of Scroope for the present +generation, but would tend to its final downfall. Would it not be known +throughout all England that the next Earl of Scroope would be the +grandson of a convict? Might there not be questions as to the legitimacy +of the assumed heir? She herself knew of noble families which had been +scattered, confounded, and almost ruined by such imprudence. Hitherto +the family of Scroope had been continued from generation to generation +without stain,—almost without stain. It had felt it to be a fortunate +thing that the late heir had died because of the pollution of his +wretched marriage. And now must evil as bad befall it, worse evil +perhaps, through the folly of this young man? Must that proud motto be +taken down from its place in the hall from very shame? But the evil had +not been done yet, and it might be that her words could save the house +from ruin and disgrace.</p> + +<p>She was a woman of whom it may be said that whatever difficulty she +might have in deciding a question she could recognise the necessity of a +decision and could abide by it when she had made it. It was with great +difficulty that she could bring herself to think that an Earl of Scroope +should be false to a promise by which he had seduced a woman, but she +did succeed in bringing herself to such thought. Her very heart bled +within her as she acknowledged the necessity. A lie to her was +abominable. A lie, to be told by herself, would have been hideous to +her. A lie to be told by him, was worse. As virtue, what she called +virtue, was the one thing indispensable to women, so was truth the one +thing indispensable to men. And yet she must tell him to lie, and having +resolved so to tell him, must use all her intellect to defend the +lie,—and to insist upon it.</p> + +<p>He was determined to return to Ireland, and there was nothing that she +could do to prevent his return. She could not bid him shun a danger +simply because it was a danger. He was his own master, and were she to +do so he would only laugh at her. Of authority with him she had none. If +she spoke, he must listen. Her position would secure so much to her from +courtesy,—and were she to speak of the duty which he owed to his name +and to the family he could hardly laugh. She therefore sent to him a +message. Would he kindly go to her in her own room? Of course he +attended to her wishes and went. "You mean to leave us to-morrow, Fred," +she said. We all know the peculiar solemnity of a widow's dress,—the +look of self-sacrifice on the part of the woman which the dress creates; +and have perhaps recognised the fact that if the woman be deterred by no +necessities of œconomy in her toilet,—as in such material +circumstances the splendour is more perfect if splendour be the +object,—so also is the self-sacrifice more abject. And with this widow +an appearance of melancholy solemnity, almost of woe, was natural to +her. She was one whose life had ever been serious, solemn, and sad. +Wealth and the outward pomp of circumstances had conferred upon her a +certain dignity; and with that doubtless there had reached her some +feeling of satisfaction. Religion too had given her comfort, and a +routine of small duties had saved her from the wretchedness of ennui. +But life with her had had no laughter, and had seldom smiled. Now in the +first days of her widowhood she regarded her course as run, and looked +upon herself as one who, in speaking, almost spoke from the tomb. All +this had its effect upon the young lord. She did inspire him with a +certain awe; and though her weeds gave her no authority, they did give +her weight.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I shall start to-morrow," he replied.</p> + +<p>"And you still mean to go to Ireland?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I must go to Ireland. I shan't stay there, you know."</p> + +<p>Then she paused a moment before she proceeded. "Shall you see—that +young woman when you are there?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall see her."</p> + +<p>"Pray do not think that I desire to interfere with your private affairs. +I know well that I have no right to assume over you any of that +affectionate authority which a mother might have,—though in truth I +love you as a son."</p> + +<p>"I would treat you just as I would my own mother."</p> + +<p>"No, Fred; that cannot be so. A mother would throw her arms round you +and cling to you if she saw you going into danger. A mother would follow +you, hoping that she might save you."</p> + +<p>"But there is no danger."</p> + +<p>"Ah, Fred, I fear there is."</p> + +<p>"What danger?"</p> + +<p>"You are now the head of one of the oldest and the noblest families in +this which in my heart I believe to be the least sinful among the sinful +nations of the wicked world."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know how that may be;—I mean about the world. Of course +I understand about the family."</p> + +<p>"But you love your country?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. I don't think there's any place like England,—to live in."</p> + +<p>"And England is what it is because there are still some left among us +who are born to high rank and who know how to live up to the standard +that is required of them. If ever there was such a man, your uncle was +such a one."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he was;—just what he ought to have been."</p> + +<p>"Honourable, true, affectionate, self-denying, affable to all men, but +ever conscious of his rank, giving much because much had been given to +him, asserting his nobility for the benefit of those around him, proud +of his order for the sake of his country, bearing his sorrows with the +dignity of silence, a nobleman all over, living on to the end sans +reproche! He was a man whom you may dare to imitate, though to follow +him may be difficult." She spoke not loudly, but clearly, looking him +full in the face as she stood motionless before him.</p> + +<p>"He was all that," said Fred, almost overpowered by the sincere +solemnity of his aunt's manner.</p> + +<p>"Will you try to walk in his footsteps?"</p> + +<p>"Two men can never be like one another in that way. I shall never be +what he was. But I'll endeavour to get along as well as I can."</p> + +<p>"You will remember your order?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will. I do remember it. Mind you, aunt, I am not glad that I +belong to it. I think I do understand about it all, and will do my best. +But Jack would have made a better Earl than I shall do. That's the +truth."</p> + +<p>"The Lord God has placed you,—and you must pray to Him that He will +enable you to do your duty in that state of life to which it has pleased +Him to call you. You are here and must bear his decree; and whether it +be a privilege to enjoy, you must enjoy it, or a burden to bear, you +must endure it."</p> + +<p>"It is so of course."</p> + +<p>"Knowing that, you must know also how incumbent it is upon you not to +defile the stock from which you are sprung."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it has been defiled," said Fred, who had been looking into +the history of the family. "The ninth Earl seems to have married nobody +knows whom. And his son was my uncle's grandfather."</p> + +<p>This was a blow to Lady Scroope, but she bore it with dignity and +courage. "You would hardly wish it to be said that you had copied the +only one of your ancestors who did amiss. The world was rougher then +than it is now, and he of whom you speak was a soldier."</p> + +<p>"I'm a soldier too," said the Earl.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fred, is it thus you answer me! He was a soldier in rough times, +when there were wars. I think he married when he was with the army under +Marlborough."</p> + +<p>"I have not seen anything of that kind, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Your country is at peace, and your place is here, among your tenantry, +at Scroope. You will promise me, Fred, that you will not marry this girl +in Ireland?"</p> + +<p>"If I do, the fault will be all with that old maid at Castle Quin."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, Fred. It is impossible. Let her conduct have been what +it may, it cannot make that right in you which would have been wrong, or +that wrong which would have been right."</p> + +<p>"She's a nasty meddlesome cat."</p> + +<p>"I will not talk about her. What good would it do? You cannot at any +rate be surprised at my extreme anxiety. You did promise your uncle most +solemnly that you would never marry this young lady."</p> + +<p>"If I did, that ought to be enough." He was now waxing angry and his +face was becoming red. He would bear a good deal from his uncle's widow, +but he felt his own power and was not prepared to bear much more.</p> + +<p>"Of course I cannot bind you. I know well how impotent I am,—how +powerless to exercise control. But I think, Fred, that for your uncle's +sake you will not refuse to repeat your promise to me, if you intend to +keep it. Why is it that I am so anxious? It is for your sake, and for +the sake of a name which should be dearer to you than it is even to me."</p> + +<p>"I have no intention of marrying at all."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that."</p> + +<p>"I do say it. I do not want to keep either you or Jack in the dark as to +my future life. This young lady,—of whom, by the by, neither you nor +Lady Mary Quin know anything, shall not become Countess of Scroope. To +that I have made up my mind."</p> + +<p>"Thank God."</p> + +<p>"But as long as she lives I will make no woman Countess of Scroope. Let +Jack marry this girl that he is in love with. They shall live here and +have the house to themselves if they like it. He will look after the +property and shall have whatever income old Mellerby thinks proper. I +will keep the promise I made to my uncle,—but the keeping of it will +make it impossible for me to live here. I would prefer now that you +should say no more on the subject." Then he left her, quitting the room +with some stateliness in his step, as though conscious that at such a +moment as this it behoved him to assume his rank.</p> + +<p>The dowager sat alone all that morning thinking of the thing she had +done. She did now believe that he was positively resolved not to marry +Kate O'Hara, and she believed also that she herself had fixed him in +that resolution. In doing so had she or had she not committed a deadly +sin? She knew almost with accuracy what had occurred on the coast of +Clare. A young girl, innocent herself up to that moment, had been +enticed to her ruin by words of love which had been hallowed in her ears +by vows of marriage. Those vows which had possessed so deadly an +efficacy, were now to be simply broken! The cruelty to her would be +damnable, devilish,—surely worthy of hell if any sin of man can be so +called! And she, who could not divest herself of a certain pride taken +in the austere morality of her own life, she who was now a widow anxious +to devote her life solely to God, had persuaded the man to this sin, in +order that her successor as Countess of Scroope might not be, in her +opinion, unfitting for nobility! The young lord had promised her that he +would be guilty of this sin, so damnable, so devilish, telling her as he +did so, that as a consequence of his promise he must continue to live a +life of wickedness! In the agony of her spirit she threw herself upon +her knees and implored the Lord to pardon her and to guide her. But even +while kneeling before the throne of heaven she could not drive the pride +of birth out of her heart. That the young Earl might be saved from the +damning sin and also from the polluting marriage;—that was the prayer +she prayed.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-8"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter VIII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Loose about the World.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The Countess was seen no more on that day,—was no more seen at least by +either of the two brothers. Miss Mellerby was with her now and again, +but on each occasion only for a few minutes, and reported that Lady +Scroope was ill and could not appear at dinner. She would, however, see +her nephew before he started on the following morning.</p> + +<p>Fred himself was much affected by the interview with his aunt. No doubt +he had made a former promise to his uncle, similar to that which had now +been exacted from him. No doubt he had himself resolved, after what he +had thought to be mature consideration that he would not marry the girl, +justifying to himself this decision by the deceit which he thought had +been practised upon him in regard to Captain O'Hara. Nevertheless, he +felt that by what had now occurred he was bound more strongly against +the marriage than he had ever been bound before. His promise to his +uncle might have been regarded as being obligatory only as long as his +uncle lived. His own decision he would have been at liberty to change +when he pleased to do so. But, though his aunt was almost nothing to +him,—was not in very truth his aunt, but only the widow of his uncle, +there had been a solemnity about the engagement as he had now made it +with her, which he felt to be definitely binding. He must go to Ardkill +prepared to tell them absolutely the truth. He would make any +arrangement they pleased as to their future joint lives, so long as it +was an arrangement by which Kate should not become Countess of Scroope. +He did not attempt to conceal from himself the dreadful nature of the +task before him. He knew what would be the indignation of the priest. He +could picture to himself the ferocity of the mother, defending her young +as a lioness would her whelp. He could imagine that that dagger might +again be brought from its hiding place. And, worse than all, he would +see the girl prostrate in her woe, and appealing to his love and to his +oaths, when the truth as to her future life should be revealed to her. +But yet he did not think of shunning the task before him. He could not +endure to live a coward in his own esteem.</p> + +<p>He was unlike himself and very melancholy. "It has been so good of you +to remain here," he said to Sophie Mellerby. They had now become +intimate and almost attached to each other as friends. If she had +allowed a spark of hope to become bright within her heart in regard to +the young Earl that had long since been quenched. She had acknowledged +to herself that had it been possible in other respects they would not +have suited each other,—and now they were friends.</p> + +<p>"I love your aunt dearly and have been very glad to be with her."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would learn to love somebody else dearly."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall, some day,—somebody else; though I don't at all know +who it may be."</p> + +<p>"You know whom I mean."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I do."</p> + +<p>"And why not love him? Isn't he a good fellow?"</p> + +<p>"One can't love all the good fellows, Lord Scroope."</p> + +<p>"You'll never find a better one than he is."</p> + +<p>"Did he commission you to speak for him?"</p> + +<p>"You know he didn't. You know that he would be the last man in the world +to do so?"</p> + +<p>"I was surprised."</p> + +<p>"But I had a reason for speaking."</p> + +<p>"No doubt."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose it will have any effect with you;—but it is something +you ought to know. If any man of my age can be supposed to have made up +his mind on such a matter, you may believe that I have made up my mind +that I will—never marry."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense, Lord Scroope."</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes; perhaps it is. But I am so convinced of it myself that I +shall ask my brother to come and live here—permanently,—as master of +the place. As he would have to leave his regiment it would of course be +necessary that his position here should be settled,—and it shall be +settled."</p> + +<p>"I most sincerely hope that you will always live here yourself."</p> + +<p>"It won't suit me. Circumstances have made it impossible. If he will not +do so, nor my aunt, the house must be shut up. I am most anxious that +this should not be done. I shall implore him to remain here, and to be +here exactly as I should have been,—had things with me not have been so +very unfortunate. He will at any rate have a house to offer you, if—"</p> + +<p>"Lord Scroope!"</p> + +<p>"I know what you are going to say, Sophie."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I am as yet disposed to marry for the sake of a house +to shelter me."</p> + +<p>"Of course you would say that; but still I think that I have been right +to tell you. I am sure you will believe my assurance that Jack knows +nothing of all this."</p> + +<p>That same evening he said nearly the same thing to his brother, though +in doing so he made no special allusion to Sophie Mellerby. "I know that +there is a great deal that a fellow should do, living in such a house as +this, but I am not the man to do it. It's a very good kind of life, if +you happen to be up to it. I am not, but you are."</p> + +<p>"My dear Fred, you can't change the accidents of birth."</p> + +<p>"In a great measure I can; or at least we can do so between us. You +can't be Lord Scroope, but you can be master of Scroope Manor."</p> + +<p>"No I can't;—and, which is more, I won't. Don't think I am uncivil."</p> + +<p>"You are uncivil, Jack."</p> + +<p>"At any rate I am not ungrateful. I only want you to understand +thoroughly that such an arrangement is out of the question. In no +condition of life would I care to be the locum tenens for another man. +You are now five or six and twenty. At thirty you may be a married man +with an absolute need for your own house."</p> + +<p>"I would execute any deed."</p> + +<p>"So that I might be enabled to keep the owner of the property out of the +only place that is fit for him! It is a power which I should not use, +and do not wish to possess. Believe me, Fred, that a man is bound to +submit himself to the circumstances by which he is surrounded, when it +is clear that they are beneficial to the world at large. There must be +an Earl of Scroope, and you at present are the man."</p> + +<p>They were sitting together out upon the terrace after dinner, and for a +time there was silence. His brother's arguments were too strong for the +young lord, and it was out of his power to deal with one so dogmatic. +But he did not forget the last words that had been spoken. It may be +that "I shall not be the man very long," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"Any of us may die to-day or to-morrow," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"I have a kind of presentiment,—not that I shall die, but that I shall +never see Scroope again. It seems as though I were certainly leaving for +ever a place that has always been distasteful to me."</p> + +<p>"I never believe anything of presentiments."</p> + +<p>"No; of course not. You're not that sort of fellow at all. But I am. I +can't think of myself as living here with a dozen old fogies about the +place all doing nothing, touching their hats, my-lording me at every +turn, looking respectable, but as idle as pickpockets."</p> + +<p>"You'll have to do it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I shall, but I don't think it." Then there was again silence +for a time. "The less said about it the better, but I know that I've got +a very difficult job before me in Ireland."</p> + +<p>"I don't envy you, Fred;—not that."</p> + +<p>"It is no use talking about it. It has got to be done, and the sooner +done the better. What I shall do when it is done, I have not the most +remote idea. Where I shall be living this day month I cannot guess. I +can only say one thing certainly, and that is that I shall not come back +here. There never was a fellow so loose about the world as I am."</p> + +<p>It was terrible that a young man who had it in his power to do so much +good or so much evil should have had nothing to bind him to the better +course! There was the motto of his house, and the promises which he had +made to his uncle persuading him to that which was respectable and as he +thought dull; and opposed to those influences there was an unconquerable +feeling on his own part that he was altogether unfitted for the kind of +life that was expected of him. Joined to this there was the fact of that +unfortunate connection in Ireland from which he knew that it would be +base to fly, and which, as it seemed to him, made any attempt at +respectability impossible to him.</p> + +<p>Early on the following morning, as he was preparing to start, his aunt +again sent for him. She came out to him in the sitting-room adjoining +her bedroom and there embraced him. Her eyes were red with weeping, and +her face wan with care. "Fred," she said; "dear Fred."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, aunt. The last word I have to say is that I implore you not +to leave Scroope as long as you are comfortable here."</p> + +<p>"You will come back?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot say anything certain about that."</p> + +<p>She still had hold of him with both hands and was looking into his face +with loving, frightened, wistful eyes. "I know," she said, "that you +will be thinking of what passed between us yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I shall remember it."</p> + +<p>"I have been praying for you, Fred; and now I tell you to look to your +Father which is in Heaven for guidance, and not to take it from any poor +frail sinful human being. Ask Him to keep your feet steady in the path, +and your heart pure, and your thoughts free from wickedness. Oh, Fred, +keep your mind and body clear before Him, and if you will kneel to Him +for protection, He will show you a way through all difficulties." It was +thus that she intended to tell him that his promise to her, made on the +previous day, was to count for nought, and that he was to marry the girl +if by no other way he could release himself from vice. But she could not +bring herself to declare to him in plain terms that he had better marry +Kate O'Hara, and bring his new Countess to Scroope in order that she +might be fitly received by her predecessor. It might be that the Lord +would still show him a way out of the two evils.</p> + +<p>But his brother was more clear of purpose with him, as they walked +together out to the yard in which the young Earl was to get into his +carriage. "Upon the whole, Fred, if I were you I should marry that +girl." This he said quite abruptly. The young lord shook his head. "It +may be that I do not know all the circumstances. If they be as I have +heard them from you, I should marry her. Good-bye. Let me hear from you, +when you have settled as to going anywhere."</p> + +<p>"I shall be sure to write," said Fred as he took the reins and seated +him in the phaeton.</p> + +<p>His brother's advice he understood plainly, and that of his aunt he +thought that he understood. But he shook his head again as he told +himself that he could not now be guided by either of them.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-9"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter IX.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">At Liscannor.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The young lord slept one night at Ennis, and on the third morning after +his departure from Scroope, started in his gig for Liscannor and the +cliffs of Moher. He took a servant with him and a change of clothes. And +as he went his heart was very heavy. He could not live a coward in his +own esteem. Were it not so how willingly would he have saved himself +from the misery of this journey, and have sent to his Kate to bid her +come to him in England! He feared the priest, and he feared his Kate's +mother;—not her dagger, but her eyes and scorching words. He altogether +doubted his own powers to perform satisfactorily the task before him. He +knew men who could do it. His brother Jack would do it, were it possible +that his brother Jack should be in such a position. But for himself, he +was conscious of a softness of heart, a feminine tenderness, which,—to +do him justice,—he did not mistake for sincerity, that rendered him +unfit for the task before him. The farther he journeyed from Scroope and +the nearer that he found himself to the cliffs the stronger did the +feeling grow within him, till it had become almost tragical in its +dominion over him. But still he went on. It was incumbent on him to pay +one more visit to the cliffs and he journeyed on.</p> + +<p>At Limerick he did not even visit the barracks to see his late +companions of the regiment. At Ennis he slept in his old room, and of +course the two officers who were quartered there came to him. But they +both declared when they left him that the Earl of Scroope and Fred +Neville were very different persons, attributing the difference solely +to the rank and wealth of the new peer. Poor Simpkinson had expected +long whispered confidential conversations respecting the ladies of +Ardkill; but the Earl had barely thanked him for his journey; and the +whispered confidence, which would have been so delightful, was at once +impossible. "By Heaven, there's nothing like rank to spoil a fellow. He +was a good fellow once." So spoke Captain Johnstone, as the two officers +retreated together from the Earl's room.</p> + +<p>And the Earl also saw Mr. Crowe the attorney. Mr. Crowe recognized at +its full weight the importance of a man whom he might now call "My Lord" +as often as he pleased, and as to whose pecuniary position he had made +some gratifying inquiries. A very few words sufficed. Captain O'Hara had +taken his departure, and the money would be paid regularly. Mr. Crowe +also noticed the stern silence of the man, but thought that it was +becoming in an Earl with so truly noble a property. Of the Castle Quin +people who could hardly do more than pay their way like country +gentlefolk, and who were mere Irish, Mr. Crowe did not think much.</p> + +<p>Every hour that brought the lord nearer to Liscannor added a weight to +his bosom. As he drove his gig along the bleak road to Ennistimon his +heart was very heavy indeed. At Maurice's mills, the only resting-place +on the road, it had been his custom to give his horse a mouthful of +water; but he would not do so now though the poor beast would fain have +stopped there. He drove the animal on ruthlessly, himself driven by a +feeling of unrest which would not allow him to pause. He hated the +country now, and almost told himself that he hated all whom it +contained. How miserable was his lot, that he should have bound himself +in the opening of his splendour, in the first days of a career that +might have been so splendid, to misfortune that was squalid and mean as +this. To him, to one placed by circumstances as he was placed, it was +squalid and mean. By a few soft words spoken to a poor girl whom he had +chanced to find among the rocks he had so bound himself with vile +manacles, had so crippled, hampered and fettered himself, that he was +forced to renounce all the glories of his station. Wealth almost +unlimited was at his command,—and rank, and youth, and such personal +gifts of appearance and disposition as best serve to win general love. +He had talked to his brother of his unfitness for his earldom; but he +could have blazoned it forth at Scroope and up in London, with the best +of young lords, and have loved well to do so. But this adventure, as he +had been wont to call it, had fallen upon him, and had broken him as it +were in pieces. Thousands a year he would have paid to be rid of his +adventure; but thousands a year, he knew well, were of no avail. He +might have sent over some English Mr. Crowe with offers almost royal; +but he had been able so to discern the persons concerned as to know that +royal offers, of which the royalty would be simply money royalty, could +be of no avail. How would that woman have looked at any messenger who +had come to her with offers of money,—and proposed to take her child +into some luxurious but disgraceful seclusion? And in what language +would Father Marty have expressed himself on such a proposed +arrangement? And so the Earl of Scroope drove on with his heart falling +ever lower and lower within his bosom.</p> + +<p>It had of course been necessary that he should form some plan. He +proposed to get rooms for one night at the little inn at Ennistimon, to +leave his gig there, and then to take one of the country cars on to +Liscannor. It would, he thought, be best to see the priest first. Let +him look at his task which way he would, he found that every part of it +was bad. An interview with Father Marty would be very bad, for he must +declare his intentions in such a way that no doubt respecting them must +be left on the priest's mind. He would speak only to three persons;—but +to all those three he must now tell the certain truth. There were causes +at work which made it impossible that Kate O'Hara should become Countess +of Scroope. They might tear him to pieces, but from that decision he +would not budge. Subject to that decision they might do with him and +with all that belonged to him almost as they pleased. He would explain +this first to the priest if it should chance that he found the priest at +home.</p> + +<p>He left his gig and servant at Ennistimon and proceeded as he had +intended along the road to Liscannor on an outside car. In the +mid-distance about two miles out of the town he met Father Marty riding +on the road. He had almost hoped,—nay, he had hoped,—that the priest +might not be at home. But here was the lion in his path. "Ah, my Lord," +said the priest in his sweetest tone of good humour,—and his tones when +he was so disposed were very sweet,—"Ah, my Lord, this is a sight good +for sore eyes. They tould me you were to be here to-day or to-morrow, +and I took it for granted therefore it 'd be the day afther. But you're +as good as the best of your word." The Earl of Scroope got off the car, +and holding the priest's hand, answered the kindly salutation. But he +did so with a constrained air and with a solemnity which the priest also +attributed to his newly-begotten rank. Fred Neville,—as he had been a +week or two since,—was almost grovelling in the dust before the +priest's eyes; but the priest for the moment thought that he was +wrapping himself up in the sables and ermine of his nobility. However, +he had come back,—which was more perhaps than Father Marty had +expected,—and the best must be made of him with reference to poor +Kate's future happiness. "You're going on to Ardkill, I suppose, my +Lord," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—certainly; but I intended to take the Liscannor road on purpose +to see you. I shall leave the car at Liscannor and walk up. You could +not return, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes,—I might."</p> + +<p>"If you could, Father Marty—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly." The priest now saw that there was something more in the +man's manner than lordly pride. As the Earl got again up on his car, the +priest turned his horse, and the two travelled back through the village +without further conversation. The priest's horse was given up to the boy +in the yard, and he then led the way into the house. "We are not much +altered in our ways, are we, my Lord?" he said as he moved a bottle of +whiskey that stood on the sideboard. "Shall I offer you lunch?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you, Father Marty;—nothing, thank you." Then he made a gasp +and began. The bad hour had arrived, and it must be endured. "I have +come back, as you see, Father Marty. That was a matter of course."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, my Lord. As things have gone it was a matter of course."</p> + +<p>"I am here. I came as soon as it was possible that I should come. Of +course it was necessary that I should remain at home for some days after +what has occurred at Scroope."</p> + +<p>"No doubt;—no doubt. But you will not be angry with me for saying that +after what has occurred here, your presence has been most anxiously +expected. However here you are, and all may yet be well. As God's +minister I ought perhaps to upbraid. But I am not given to much +upbraiding, and I love that dear and innocent young face too well to +desire anything now but that the owner of it should receive at your +hands that which is due to her before God and man."</p> + +<p>He perceived that the priest knew it all. But how could he wonder at +this when that which ought to have been her secret and his had become +known even to Lady Mary Quin? And he understood well what the priest +meant when he spoke of that which was due to Kate O'Hara before God and +man; and he could perceive, or thought that he perceived, that the +priest did not doubt of the coming marriage, now that he, the victim, +was again back in the west of Ireland. And was he not the victim of a +scheme? Had he not been allured on to make promises to the girl which he +would not have made had the truth been told him as to her father? He +would not even in his thoughts accuse Kate,—his Kate,—of being a +participator in these schemes. But Mrs. O'Hara and the priest had +certainly intrigued against him. He must remember that. In the terrible +task which he was now compelled to begin he must build his defence +chiefly upon that. Yes; he must begin his work, now, upon the instant. +With all his golden prospects,—with all his golden honours already in +his possession,—he could wish himself dead rather than begin it. But he +could not die and have done it. "Father. Marty," he said, "I cannot make +Miss O'Hara Countess of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"Not make her Countess of Scroope! What will you make her then?"</p> + +<p>"As to that, I am here to discuss it with you."</p> + +<p>"What is it you main, sir? Afther you have had your will of her, and +polluted her sweet innocence, you will not make her your wife! You +cannot look me in the face, Mr. Neville, and tell me that."</p> + +<p>There the priest was right. The young Earl could not look him in the +face as he stammered out his explanation and proposal. The burly, strong +old man stood perfectly still and silent as he, with hesitating and +ill-arranged words, tried to gloze over and make endurable his past +conduct and intentions as to the future. He still held some confused +idea as to a form of marriage which should for all his life bind him to +the woman, but which should give her no claim to the title, and her +child no claim either to the title or the property. "You should have +told me of this Captain O'Hara," he said, as with many half-formed +sentences he completed his suggestions.</p> + +<p>"And it's on me you are throwing the blame?"</p> + +<p>"You should have told me, Father Marty."</p> + +<p>"By the great God above me, I did not believe that a man could be such a +villain! As I look for glory I did not think it possible! I should have +tould you! Neither did I nor did Mistress O'Hara know or believe that +the man was alive. And what has the man to do with it? Is she vile +because he has been guilty? Is she other than you knew her to be when +you first took her to your bosom, because of his sin?"</p> + +<p>"It does make a difference, Mr. Marty."</p> + +<p>"Afther what you have done it can make no difference. When you swore to +her that she should be your wife, and conquered her by so swearing, was +there any clause in your contract that you were not to be bound if you +found aught displaising to you in her parentage?"</p> + +<p>"I ought to have known it all."</p> + +<p>"You knew all that she knew;—all that I knew. You knew all that her +mother knew. No, Lord Scroope. It cannot be that you should be so +unutterably a villain. You are your own masther. Unsay what you have +said to me, and her ears shall never be wounded or her heart broken by a +hint of it."</p> + +<p>"I cannot make her Countess of Scroope. You are a priest, and can use +what words you please to me;—but I cannot make her Countess of +Scroope."</p> + +<p>"Faith,—and there will be more than words used, my young lord. As to +your plot of a counterfeit marriage,—"</p> + +<p>"I said nothing of a counterfeit marriage."</p> + +<p>"What was it you said, then? I say you did. You proposed to me,—to me a +priest of God's altar,—a false counterfeit marriage, so that those two +poor women, who you are afraid to face, might be cajoled and chaited and +ruined."</p> + +<p>"I am going to face them instantly."</p> + +<p>"Then must your heart be made of very stone. Shall I tell you the +consequences?" Then the priest paused awhile, and the young man, bursting +into tears, hid his face against the wall. "I will tell you the +consequences, Lord Scroope. They will die. The shame and sorrow which +you have brought on them, will bring them to their graves,—and so there +will be an end of their throubles upon earth. But while I live there +shall be no rest for the sole of your foot. I am ould, and may soon be +below the sod, but I will lave it as a legacy behind me that your +iniquity shall be proclaimed and made known in high places. While I live +I will follow you, and when I am gone there shall be another to take the +work. My curse shall rest on you,—the curse of a man of God, and you +shall be accursed. Now, if it suits you, you can go up to them at +Ardkill and tell them your story. She is waiting to receive her lover. +You can go to her, and stab her to the heart at once. Go, sir! Unless +you can change all this and alter your heart even as you hear my words, +you are unfit to find shelter beneath my roof."</p> + +<p>Having so spoken, waiting to see the effect of his indignation, the +priest went out, and got upon his horse, and went away upon his journey. +The young lord knew that he had been insulted, was aware that words had +been said to him so severe that one man, in his rank of life, rarely +utters them to another; and he had stood the while with his face turned +to the wall speechless and sobbing! The priest had gone, telling him to +leave the house because his presence disgraced it; and he had made no +answer. Yet he was the Earl of Scroope,—the thirteenth Earl of +Scroope,—a man in his own country full of honours. Why had he come +there to be called a villain? And why was the world so hard upon him +that on hearing himself so called he could only weep like a girl? Had he +done worse than other men? Was he not willing to make any retribution +for his fault,—except by doing that which he had been taught to think +would be a greater fault? As he left the house he tried to harden his +heart against Kate O'Hara. The priest had lied to him about her father. +They must have known that the man was alive. They had caught him among +them, and the priest's anger was a part of the net with which they had +intended to surround him. The stake for which they had played had been +very great. To be Countess of Scroope was indeed a chance worth some +risk. Then, as he breasted the hill up towards the burial ground, he +tried to strengthen his courage by realizing the magnitude of his own +position. He bade himself remember that he was among people who were his +inferiors in rank, education, wealth, manners, religion and nationality. +He had committed an error. Of course he had been in fault. Did he wish +to escape the consequences of his own misdoing? Was not his presence +there so soon after the assumption of his family honours sufficient +evidence of his generous admission of the claims to which he was +subject? Had he not offered to sacrifice himself as no other man would +have done? But they were still playing for the high stakes. They were +determined that the girl should be Countess of Scroope. He was +determined that she should not be Countess of Scroope. He was still +willing to sacrifice himself, but his family honours he would not +pollute.</p> + +<p>And then as he made his way past the burial ground and on towards the +cliff there crept over him a feeling as to the girl very different from +that reverential love which he had bestowed upon her when she was still +pure. He remembered the poorness of her raiment, the meekness of her +language, the small range of her ideas. The sweet soft coaxing loving +smile, which had once been so dear to him, was infantine and ignoble. +She was a plaything for an idle hour, not a woman to be taken out into +the world with the high name of Countess of Scroope.</p> + +<p>All this was the antagonism in his own heart against the indignant words +which the priest had spoken to him. For a moment he was so overcome that +he had burst into tears. But not on that account would he be beaten away +from his decision. The priest had called him a villain and had +threatened and cursed him! As to the villainy he had already made up his +mind which way his duty lay. For the threats it did not become him to +count them as anything. The curses were the result of the man's +barbarous religion. He remembered that he was the Earl of Scroope, and +so remembering summoned up his courage as he walked on to the cottage.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-10"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter X.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">At Ardkill.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Sharp eyes had watched for the young lord's approach. As he came near to +the cottage the door was opened and Kate O'Hara rushed out to meet him. +Though his mind was turned against her,—was turned against her as hard +and fast as all his false reasonings had been able to make it,—he could +not but accord to her the reception of a lover. She was in his arms and +he could not but press her close to his bosom. Her face was held up to +his, and of course he covered it with kisses. She murmured to him sweet +warm words of passionate love, and he could not but answer with +endearing names. "I am your own,—am I not?" she said as she still clung +to him. "All my own," he whispered as he tightened his arm round her +waist.</p> + +<p>Then he asked after Mrs. O'Hara. "Yes; mother is there. She will be +almost as glad to see you as I am. Nobody can be quite so glad. Oh +Fred,—my darling Fred,—am I still to call you Fred?"</p> + +<p>"What else, my pet?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking whether I would call you—my Lord."</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake do not."</p> + +<p>"No. You shall be Fred,—my Fred; Fred to me, though all the world +besides may call you grand names." Then again she held up her face to +him and pressed the hand that was round her waist closer to her girdle. +To have him once more with her,—this was to taste all the joys of +heaven while she was still on earth.</p> + +<p>They entered the sitting-room together and met Mrs. O'Hara close to the +door. "My Lord," she said, "you are very welcome back to us. Indeed we +need you much. I will not upbraid you as you come to make atonement for +your fault. If you will let me I will love you as a son." As she spoke +she held his right hand in both of hers, and then she lifted up her face +and kissed his cheek.</p> + +<p>He could not stay her words, nor could he refuse the kiss. And yet to +him the kiss was as the kiss of Judas, and the words were false words, +plotted words, pre-arranged, so that after hearing them there should be +no escape for him. But he would escape. He resolved again, even then, +that he would escape; but he could not answer her words at the moment. +Though Mrs. O'Hara held him by the hand, Kate still hung to his other +arm. He could not thrust her away from him. She still clung to him when +he released his right hand, and almost lay upon his breast when he +seated himself on the sofa. She looked into his eyes for tenderness, and +he could not refrain himself from bestowing upon her the happiness. "Oh, +mother," she said, "he is so brown;—but he is handsomer than ever." But +though he smiled on her, giving back into her eyes her own soft look of +love, yet he must tell his tale.</p> + +<p>He was still minded that she should have all but the one thing,—all if +she would take it. She should not be Countess of Scroope; but in any +other respect he would pay what penalty might be required for his +transgression. But in what words should he explain this to those two +women? Mrs. O'Hara had called him by his title and had claimed him as +her son. No doubt she had all the right to do so which promises made by +himself could give her. He had sworn that he would marry the girl, and +in point of time had only limited his promise by the old Earl's life. +The old Earl was dead, and he stood pledged to the immediate performance +of his vow,—doubly pledged if he were at all solicitous for the honour +of his future bride. But in spite of all promises she should never be +Countess of Scroope!</p> + +<p>Some tinkling false-tongued phrase as to lover's oaths had once passed +across his memory and had then sufficed to give him a grain of comfort. +There was no comfort to be found in it now. He began to tell himself, in +spite of his manhood, that it might have been better for him and for +them that he should have broken this matter to them by a well-chosen +messenger. But it was too late for that now. He had faced the priest and +had escaped from him with the degradation of a few tears. Now he was in +the presence of the lioness and her young. The lioness had claimed him +as a denizen of the forest; and, would he yield to her, she no doubt +would be very tender to him. But, as he was resolved not to yield, he +began to find that he had been wrong to enter her den. As he looked at +her, knowing that she was at this moment softened by false hopes, he +could nevertheless see in her eye the wrath of the wild animal. How was +he to begin to make his purpose known to them.</p> + +<p>"And now you must tell us everything," said Kate, still encircled by his +arm.</p> + +<p>"What must I tell you?"</p> + +<p>"You will give up the regiment at once?"</p> + +<p>"I have done so already."</p> + +<p>"But you must not give up Ardkill;—must he, mother?"</p> + +<p>"He may give it up when he takes you from it, Kate."</p> + +<p>"But he will take you too, mother?"</p> + +<p>The lioness at any rate wanted nothing for herself. "No, love. I shall +remain here among my rocks, and shall be happy if I hear that you are +happy."</p> + +<p>"But you won't part us altogether,—will you, Fred?"</p> + +<p>"No, love."</p> + +<p>"I knew he wouldn't. And mother may come to your grand house and creep +into some pretty little corner there, where I can go and visit her, and +tell her that she shall always be my own, own, own darling mother."</p> + +<p>He felt that he must put a stop to this in some way, though the doing of +it would be very dreadful. Indeed in the doing of it the whole of his +task would consist. But still he shirked it, and used his wit in +contriving an answer which might still deceive without being false in +words. "I think," said he, "that I shall never live at any grand house, +as you call it."</p> + +<p>"Not live at Scroope?" asked Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"I think not. It will hardly suit me."</p> + +<p>"I shall not regret it," said Kate. "I care nothing for a grand house. I +should only be afraid of it. I know it is dark and sombre, for you have +said so. Oh, Fred, any place will be Paradise to me, if I am there with +you."</p> + +<p>He felt that every moment of existence so continued was a renewed lie. +She was lying in his arms, in her mother's presence, almost as his +acknowledged wife. And she was speaking of her future home as being +certainly his also. But what could he do? How could he begin to tell the +truth? His home should be her home, if she would come to him,—not as +his wife. That idea of some half-valid morganatic marriage had again +been dissipated by the rough reproaches of the priest, and could only be +used as a prelude to his viler proposal. And, though he loved the girl +after his fashion, he desired to wound her by no such vile proposal. He +did not wish to live a life of sin, if such life might be avoided. If he +made his proposal, it would be but for her sake; or rather that he might +show her that he did not wish to cast her aside. It was by asserting to +himself that for her sake he would relinquish his own rank, were that +possible, that he attempted to relieve his own conscience. But, in the +mean time, she was in his arms talking about their joint future home! +"Where do you think of living?" asked Mrs. O'Hara in a tone which shewed +plainly the anxiety with which she asked the question.</p> + +<p>"Probably abroad," he said.</p> + +<p>"But mother may go with us?" The girl felt that the tension of his arm +was relaxed, and she knew that all was not well with him. And if there +was ought amiss with him, how much more must it be amiss with her? "What +is it, Fred?" she said. "There is some secret. Will you not tell it to +me?" Then she whispered into his ear words intended for him alone, +though her mother heard them. "If there be a secret you should tell it +me now. Think how it is with me. Your words are life and death to me +now." He still held her with loosened arms but did not answer her. He +sat, looking out into the middle of the room with fixed eyes, and he +felt that drops of perspiration were on his brow. And he knew that the +other woman was glaring at him with the eyes of an injured lioness, +though he did not dare to turn his own to her face. "Fred, tell me; tell +me." And Kate rose up, with her knees upon the sofa, bending over him, +gazing into his countenance and imploring him.</p> + +<p>"There must be disappointment," he said; and he did not know the sound +of his own voice.</p> + +<p>"What disappointment? Speak to me. What disappointment?"</p> + +<p>"Disappointment!" shrieked the mother. "How disappointment? There shall +be no disappointment." Rising from her chair, she hurried across the +room, and took her girl from his arms. "Lord Scroope, tell us what you +mean. I say there shall be no disappointment. Sit away from him, Kate, +till he has told us what it is." Then they heard the sound of a horse's +foot passing close to the window, and they all knew that it was the +priest. "There is Father Marty," said Mrs. O'Hara. "He shall make you +tell it."</p> + +<p>"I have already told him." Lord Scroope as he said this rose and moved +towards the door; but he himself was almost unconscious of the movement. +Some idea probably crossed his mind that he would meet the priest, but +Mrs. O'Hara thought that he intended to escape from them.</p> + +<p>She rushed between him and the door and held him with both her hands. +"No; no; you do not leave us in that way, though you were twice an +Earl."</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking of leaving you."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you shall not hurt him; you shall not insult him," said the +girl. "He does not mean to harm me. He is my own, and no one shall touch +him."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will not harm you. Here is Father Marty. Mrs. O'Hara you +had better be tranquil. You should remember that you have heard nothing +yet of what I would say to you."</p> + +<p>"Whose fault is that? Why do you not speak? Father Marty, what does he +mean when he tells my girl that there must be disappointment for her? +Does he dare to tell me that he hesitates to make her his wife?"</p> + +<p>The priest took the mother by the hand and placed her on the chair in +which she usually sat. Then, almost without a word, he led Kate from the +room to her own chamber, and bade her wait a minute till he should come +back to her. Then he returned to the sitting-room and at once addressed +himself to Lord Scroope. "Have you dared," he said, "to tell them what +you hardly dared to tell to me?"</p> + +<p>"He has dared to tell us nothing," said Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder at it. I do not think that any man could say to her +that which he told me that he would do."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. O'Hara," said the young lord, with some return of courage now that +the girl had left them, "that which I told Mr. Marty this morning, I +will now tell to you. For your daughter I will do anything that you and +she and he may wish,—but one thing. I cannot make her Countess of +Scroope."</p> + +<p>"You must make her your wife," said the woman, shouting at him.</p> + +<p>"I will do so to-morrow if a way can be found by which she shall not +become Countess of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"That is, he will marry her without making her his wife," said the +priest. "He will jump over a broomstick with her and will ask me to help +him,—so that your feelings and hers may be spared for a week or so. +Mrs. O'Hara, he is a villain,—a vile, heartless, cowardly reprobate, so +low in the scale of humanity that I degrade myself by spaking to him. He +calls himself an English peer! Peer to what? Certainly to no one worthy +to be called a man!" So speaking, the priest addressed himself to Mrs. +O'Hara, but as he spoke his eyes were fixed full on the face of the +young lord.</p> + +<p>"I will have his heart out of his body," exclaimed Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"Heart;—he has no heart. You may touch his pocket;—or his pride, what +he calls his pride, a damnable devilish inhuman vanity; or his +name,—that bugbear of a title by which he trusts to cover his baseness; +or his skin, for he is a coward. Do you see his cheek now? But as for +his heart,—you cannot get at that."</p> + +<p>"I will get at his life," said the woman.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Marty, you allow yourself a liberty of speech which even your +priesthood will not warrant."</p> + +<p>"Lay a hand upon me if you can. There is not blood enough about you to +do it. Were it not that the poor child has been wake and too trusting, I +would bid her spit on you rather than take you for her husband." Then he +paused, but only for a moment. "Sir, you must marry her, and there must +be an end of it. In no other way can you be allowed to live."</p> + +<p>"Would you murder me?"</p> + +<p>"I would crush you like an insect beneath my nail. Murder you! Have you +thought what murder is;—that there are more ways of murder than one? +Have you thought of the life of that young girl who now bears in her +womb the fruit of your body? Would you murder her,—because she loved +you, and trusted you, and gave you all simply because you asked her; and +then think of your own life? As the God of Heaven is above me, and sees +me now, and the Saviour in whose blood I trust, I would lay down my life +this instant, if I could save her from your heartlessness." So saying he +too turned away his face and wept like a child.</p> + +<p>After this the priest was gentler in his manner to the young man, and it +almost seemed as though the Earl was driven from his decision. He +ceased, at any rate, to assert that Kate should never be Countess of +Scroope, and allowed both the mother and Father Marty to fall into a +state of doubt as to what his last resolve might be. It was decided that +he should go down to Ennistimon and sleep upon it. On the morrow he +would come up again, and in the meantime he would see Father Marty at +the inn. There were many prayers addressed to him both by the mother and +the priest, and such arguments used that he had been almost shaken. "But +you will come to-morrow?" said the mother, looking at the priest as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"I will certainly come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"No doubt he will come to-morrow," said Father Marty,—who intended to +imply that if Lord Scroope escaped out of Ennistimon without his +knowledge, he would be very much surprised.</p> + +<p>"Shall I not say a word to Kate?" the Earl asked as he was going.</p> + +<p>"Not till you are prepared to tell her that she shall be your wife," +said the priest.</p> + +<p>But this was a matter as to which Kate herself had a word to say. When +they were in the passage she came out from her room, and again rushed +into her lover's arms. "Oh, Fred, let me told,—let me told. I will go +with you anywhere if you will take me."</p> + +<p>"He is to come up to-morrow, Kate," said her mother.</p> + +<p>"He will be here early to-morrow, and everything shall be settled then," +said the priest, trying to assume a happy and contented tone.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Kate, I will be here by noon," said Lord Scroope, returning the +girl's caresses.</p> + +<p>"And you will not desert me?"</p> + +<p>"No, darling, no." And then he went, leaving the priest behind him at +the cottage.</p> + +<p>Father Marty was to be with him at the inn by eight, and then the whole +matter must be again discussed. He felt that he had been very weak, that +he had made no use,—almost no use at all,—of the damning fact of the +Captain's existence. He had allowed the priest to talk him down in every +argument, and had been actually awed by the girl's mother, and yet he +was determined that he would not yield. He felt more strongly than ever, +now that he had again seen Kate O'Hara, that it would not be right that +such a one as she should be made Countess of Scroope. Not only would she +disgrace the place, but she would be unhappy in it, and would shame him. +After all the promises that he had made he could not, and he would not, +take her to Scroope as his wife. How could she hold up her head before +such women as Sophie Mellerby and others like her? It would be known by +all his friends that he had been taken in and swindled by low people in +the County Clare, and he would be regarded by all around him as one who +had absolutely ruined himself. He had positively resolved that she +should not be Countess of Scroope, and to that resolution he would +adhere. The foul-mouthed priest had called him a coward, but he would be +no coward. The mother had said that she would have his life. If there +were danger in that respect he must encounter it. As he returned to +Ennistimon he again determined that Kate O'Hara should never become +Countess of Scroope.</p> + +<p>For three hours Father Marty remained with him that night, but did not +shake him. He had now become accustomed to the priest's wrath and could +endure it. And he thought also that he could now endure the mother. The +tears of the girl and her reproaches he still did fear.</p> + +<p>"I will do anything that you can dictate short of that," he said again +to Father Marty.</p> + +<p>"Anything but the one thing that you have sworn to do?"</p> + +<p>"Anything but the one thing that I have sworn not to do." For he had +told the priest of the promises he had made both to his uncle and to his +uncle's widow.</p> + +<p>"Then," said the priest, as he crammed his hat on his head, and shook +the dust off his feet, "if I were you I would not go to Ardkill +to-morrow if I valued my life." Nevertheless Father Marty slept at +Ennistimon that night, and was prepared to bar the way if any attempt at +escape were made.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-11"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter XI.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">On the Cliffs.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>No attempt at escape was made. The Earl breakfasted by himself at about +nine, and then lighting a cigar, roamed about for a while round the Inn, +thinking of the work that was now before him. He saw nothing of Father +Marty though he knew that the priest was still in Ennistimon. And he +felt that he was watched. They might have saved themselves that trouble, +for he certainly had no intention of breaking his word to them. So he +told himself, thinking as he did so, that people such as these could not +understand that an Earl of Scroope would not be untrue to his word. And +yet since he had been back in County Clare he had almost regretted that +he had not broken his faith to them and remained in England. At +half-past ten he started on a car, having promised to be at the cottage +at noon, and he told his servant that he should certainly leave +Ennistimon that day at three. The horse and gig were to be ready for him +exactly at that hour.</p> + +<p>On this occasion he did not go through Liscannor, but took the other +road to the burial ground. There he left his car and slowly walked along +the cliffs till he came to the path leading down from them to the +cottage. In doing this he went somewhat out of his way, but he had time +on his hands and he did not desire to be at the cottage before the hour +he had named. It was a hot midsummer day, and there seemed to be hardly +a ripple on the waves. The tide was full in, and he sat for a while +looking down upon the blue waters. What an ass had he made himself, +coming thither in quest of adventures! He began to see now the meaning +of such idleness of purpose as that to which he had looked for pleasure +and excitement. Even the ocean itself and the very rocks had lost their +charm for him. It was all one blaze of blue light, the sky above and the +water below, in which there was neither beauty nor variety. How poor had +been the life he had chosen! He had spent hour after hour in a +comfortless dirty boat, in company with a wretched ignorant creature, in +order that he might shoot a few birds and possibly a seal. All the world +had been open to him, and yet how miserable had been his ambition! And +now he could see no way out of the ruin he had brought upon himself.</p> + +<p>When the time had come he rose from his seat and took the path down to +the cottage. At the corner of the little patch of garden ground attached +to it he met Mrs. O'Hara. Her hat was on her head, and a light shawl was +on her shoulders as though she had prepared herself for walking. He +immediately asked after Kate. She told him that Kate was within and +should see him presently. Would it not be better that they two should go +up on the cliffs together, and then say what might be necessary for the +mutual understanding of their purposes? "There should be no talking of +all this before Kate," said Mrs. O'Hara.</p> + +<p>"That is true."</p> + +<p>"You can imagine what she must feel if she is told to doubt. Lord +Scroope, will you not say at once that there shall be no doubt? You must +not ruin my child in return for her love!"</p> + +<p>"If there must be ruin I would sooner bear it myself," said he. And then +they walked on without further speech till they had reached a point +somewhat to the right, and higher than that on which he had sat before. +It had ever been a favourite spot with her, and he had often sat there +between the mother and daughter. It was almost the summit of the cliff, +but there was yet a higher pitch which screened it from the north, so +that the force of the wind was broken. The fall from it was almost +precipitous to the ocean, so that the face of the rocks immediately +below was not in view; but there was a curve here in the line of the +shore, and a little bay in the coast, which exposed to view the whole +side of the opposite cliff, so that the varying colours of the rocks +might be seen. The two ladies had made a seat upon the turf, by moving +the loose stones and levelling the earth around, so that they could sit +securely on the very edge. Many many hours had Mrs. O'Hara passed upon +the spot, both summer and winter, watching the sunset in the west, and +listening to the screams of the birds. "There are no gulls now," she +said as she seated herself,—as though for a moment she had forgotten +the great subject which filled her mind.</p> + +<p>"No;—they never show themselves in weather like this. They only come +when the wind blows. I wonder where they go when the sun shines."</p> + +<p>"They are just the opposite to men and women who only come around you in +fine weather. How hot it is!" and she threw her shawl back from her +shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. I walked up from the burial ground and I found that it was +very hot. Have you seen Father Marty this morning?"</p> + +<p>"No. Have you?" she asked the question turning upon him very shortly.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day. He was with me till late last night."</p> + +<p>"Well." He did not answer her. He had nothing to say to her. In fact +everything had been said yesterday. If she had questions to ask he would +answer them. "What did you settle last night? When he went from me an +hour after you were gone, he said that it was impossible that you should +mean to destroy her."</p> + +<p>"God forbid that I should destroy her."</p> + +<p>"He said that,—that you were afraid of her father."</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"And of me."</p> + +<p>"No;—not of you, Mrs. O'Hara."</p> + +<p>"Listen to me. He said that such a one as you cannot endure the presence +of an uneducated and ill-mannered mother-in-law. Do not interrupt me, +Lord Scroope. If you will marry her, my girl shall never see my face +again; and I will cling to that man and will not leave him for a moment, +so that he shall never put his foot near your door. Our name shall never +be spoken in your hearing. She shall never even write to me if you think +it better that we shall be so separated."</p> + +<p>"It is not that," he said.</p> + +<p>"What is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. O'Hara, you do not understand. You,—you I could love dearly."</p> + +<p>"I would have you keep all your love for her."</p> + +<p>"I do love her. She is good enough for me. She is too good; and so are +you. It is for the family, and not for myself."</p> + +<p>"How will she harm the family?"</p> + +<p>"I swore to my uncle that I would not make her Countess of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"And have you not sworn to her again and again that she should be your +wife? Do you think that she would have done for you what she has done, +had you not so sworn? Lord Scroope, I cannot think that you really mean +it." She put both her hands softly upon his arm and looked up to him +imploring his mercy.</p> + +<p>He got up from his seat and roamed along the cliff, and she followed +him, still imploring. Her tones were soft, and her words were the words +of a suppliant. Would he not relent and save her child from +wretchedness, from ruin and from death. "I will keep her with me till I +die," he said.</p> + +<p>"But not as your wife?"</p> + +<p>"She shall have all attention from me,—everything that a woman's heart +can desire. You two shall be never separated."</p> + +<p>"But not as your wife?"</p> + +<p>"I will live where she and you may please. She shall want nothing that +my wife would possess."</p> + +<p>"But not as your wife?"</p> + +<p>"Not as Countess of Scroope."</p> + +<p>"You would have her as your mistress, then?" As she asked this question +the tone of her voice was altogether altered, and the threatening +lion-look had returned to her eyes. They were now near the seat, +confronted to each other; and the fury of her bosom, which for a while +had been dominated by the tenderness of the love for her daughter, was +again raging within her. Was it possible that he should be able to treat +them thus,—that he should break his word and go from them scathless, +happy, joyous, with all the delights of the world before him, leaving +them crushed into dust beneath his feet. She had been called upon from +her youth upwards to bear injustice,—but of all injustice surely this +would be the worst. "As your mistress," she repeated,—"and I her +mother, am to stand by and see it, and know that my girl is dishonoured! +Would your mother have borne that for your sister? How would it be if +your sister were as that girl is now?"</p> + +<p>"I have no sister."</p> + +<p>"And therefore you are thus hard-hearted. She shall never be your +harlot;—never. I would myself sooner take from her the life I gave her. +You have destroyed her, but she shall never be a thing so low as that."</p> + +<p>"I will marry her,—in a foreign land."</p> + +<p>"And why not here? She is as good as you. Why should she not bear the +name you are so proud of dinning into our ears? Why should she not be a +Countess? Has she ever disgraced herself? If she is disgraced in your +eyes you must be a Devil."</p> + +<p>"It is not that," he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"What is it? What has she done that she should be thus punished? Tell +me, man, that she shall be your lawful wife." As she said this she +caught him roughly by the collar of his coat and shook him with her arm.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be so," said the Earl Of Scroope.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be so! But I say it shall,—or,—or—! What are you, that she +should be in your hands like this? Say that she shall be your wife, or +you shall never live to speak to another woman." The peril of his +position on the top of the cliff had not occurred to him;—nor did it +occur to him now. He had been there so often that the place gave him no +sense of danger. Nor had that peril,—as it was thought afterwards by +those who most closely made inquiry on the matter,—ever occurred to +her. She had not brought him there that she might frighten him with that +danger, or that she might avenge herself by the power which it gave her. +But now the idea flashed across her maddened mind. "Miscreant," she +said. And she bore him back to the very edge of the precipice.</p> + +<p>"You'll have me over the cliff," he exclaimed hardly even yet putting +out his strength against her.</p> + +<p>"And so I will, by the help of God. Now think of her! Now think of her!" +And as she spoke she pressed him backwards towards his fall. He had +power enough to bend his knee, and to crouch beneath her grasp on to the +loose crumbling soil of the margin of the rocks. He still held her by +her cuff and it seemed for a moment as though she must go with him. But, +on a sudden, she spurned him with her foot on the breast, the rag of +cloth parted in his hand, and the poor wretch tumbled forth alone into +eternity.</p> + +<p>That was the end of Frederic Neville, Earl of Scroope, and the end, too, +of all that poor girl's hopes in this world. When you stretch yourself +on the edge of those cliffs and look down over the abyss on the sea +below it seems as though the rocks were so absolutely perpendicular, +that a stone dropped with an extended hand would fall amidst the waves. +But in such measurement the eye deceives itself, for the rocks in truth +slant down; and the young man, as he fell, struck them again and again; +and at last it was a broken mangled corpse that reached the blue waters +below.</p> + +<p>Her Kate was at last avenged. The woman stood there in her solitude for +some minutes thinking of the thing she had done. The man had injured +her,—sorely,—and she had punished him. He had richly deserved the +death which he had received from her hands. In these minutes, as +regarded him, there was no remorse. But how should she tell the news to +her child? The blow which had thrust him over would, too probably, +destroy other life than his. Would it not be better that her girl should +so die? What could prolonged life give her that would be worth her +having? As for herself,—in these first moments of her awe she took no +thought of her own danger. It did not occur to her that she might tell +how the man had ventured too near the edge and had fallen by mischance. +As regarded herself she was proud of the thing she had accomplished; but +how should she tell her child that it was done?</p> + +<p>She slowly took the path, not to the cottage, but down towards the +burial ground and Liscannor, passing the car which was waiting in vain +for the young lord. On she walked with rapid step, indifferent to the +heat, still proud of what she had done,—raging with a maddened pride. +How little had they two asked of the world! And then this man had come +to them and robbed them of all that little, had spoiled them ruthlessly, +cheating them with lies, and then excusing himself by the grandeur of +his blood! During that walk it was that she first repeated to herself +the words that were ever afterwards on her tongue; An Eye for an Eye. +Was not that justice? And, had she not taken the eye herself, would any +Court in the world have given it to her? Yes;—an eye for an eye! Death +in return for ruin! One destruction for another! The punishment had been +just. An eye for an eye! Let the Courts of the world now say what they +pleased, they could not return to his earldom the man who had plundered +and spoiled her child. He had sworn that he would not make her Kate +Countess of Scroope! Nor should he make any other woman a Countess!</p> + +<p>Rapidly she went down by the burying ground, and into the priest's +house. Father Marty was there, and she stalked at once into his +presence. "Ha;—Mrs. O'Hara! And where is Lord Scroope?"</p> + +<p>"There," she said, pointing out towards the ocean. "Under the rocks!"</p> + +<p>"He has fallen!"</p> + +<p>"I thrust him down with my hands and with my feet." As she said this, +she used her hand and her foot as though she were now using her strength +to push the man over the edge. "Yes, I thrust him down, and he fell +splashing into the waves. I heard it as his body struck the water. He +will shoot no more of the sea-gulls now."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean that you have murdered him?"</p> + +<p>"You may call it murder if you please, Father Marty. An eye for an eye, +Father Marty! It is justice, and I have done it. An Eye for an Eye!"</p> + + +<p> </p> +<p><a name="2-12"></a> </p> +<h3>Chapter XII.<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smallcaps">Conclusion.</span></h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The story of the poor mad woman who still proclaims in her seclusion the +justice of the deed which she did, has now been told. It may perhaps be +well to collect the scattered ends of the threads of the tale for the +benefit of readers who desire to know the whole of a history.</p> + +<p>Mrs. O'Hara never returned to the cottage on the cliffs after the +perpetration of the deed. On the unhappy priest devolved the duty of +doing whatever must be done. The police at the neighbouring barracks +were told that the young lord had perished by a fall from the cliffs, +and by them search was made for the body. No real attempt was set on +foot to screen the woman who had done the deed by any concealment of the +facts. She herself was not alive to the necessity of making any such +attempt. "An eye for an eye!" she said to the head-constable when the +man interrogated her. It soon became known to all Liscannor, to +Ennistimon, to the ladies at Castle Quin, and to all the barony of +Corcomroe that Mrs. O'Hara had thrust the Earl of Scroope over the +cliffs of Moher, and that she was now detained at the house of Father +Marty in the custody of a policeman. Before the day was over it was +declared also that she was mad,—and that her daughter was dying.</p> + +<p>The deed which the woman had done and the death of the young lord were +both terrible to Father Marty; but there was a duty thrown upon him more +awful to his mind even than these. Kate O'Hara, when her mother appeared +at the priest's house, had been alone at the cottage. By degrees Father +Marty learned from the wretched woman something of the circumstances of +that morning's work. Kate had not seen her lover that day, but had been +left in the cottage while her mother went out to meet the man, and if +possible to persuade him to do her child justice. The priest understood +that she would be waiting for them,—or more probably searching for them +on the cliffs. He got upon his horse and rode up the hill with a heavy +heart. What should he tell her; and how should he tell it?</p> + +<p>Before he reached the cottage she came running down the hillside to him. +"Father Marty, where is mother? Where is Mr. Neville? You know. I see +that you know. Where are they?" He got off his horse and put his arm +round her body and seated her beside himself on the rising bank by the +wayside. "Why don't you speak?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I cannot speak," he murmured. "I cannot tell you."</p> + +<p>"Is he—dead?" He only buried his face in his hands. "She has killed +him! Mother—mother!" Then, with one loud long wailing shriek, she fell +upon the ground.</p> + +<p>Not for a month after that did she know anything of what happened around +her. But yet it seemed that during that time her mind had not been +altogether vacant, for when she awoke to self-consciousness, she knew at +least that her lover was dead. She had been taken into Ennistimon and +there, under the priest's care, had been tended with infinite +solicitude; but almost with a hope on his part that nature might give +way and that she might die. Overwhelmed as she was with sorrows past and +to come would it not be better for her that she should go hence and be +no more seen? But as Death cannot be barred from the door when he knocks +at it, so neither can he be made to come as a guest when summoned. She +still lived, though life had so little to offer to her.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. O'Hara never saw her child again. With passionate entreaties +she begged of the police that her girl might be brought to her, that she +might be allowed if it were only to see her face or to touch her hand. +Her entreaties to the priest, who was constant in his attendance upon +her in the prison to which she was removed from his house, were +piteous,—almost heartbreaking. But the poor girl, though she was meek, +silent, and almost apathetic in her tranquillity, could not even bear +the mention of her mother's name. Her mother had destroyed the father of +the child that was to be born to her, her lover, her hero, her god; and +in her remembrance of the man who had betrayed her, she learned to +execrate the mother who had sacrificed everything,—her very reason,—in +avenging the wrongs of her child!</p> + +<p>Mrs. O'Hara was taken away from the priest's house to the County Gaol, +but was then in a condition of acknowledged insanity. That she had +committed the murder no one who heard the story doubted, but of her +guilt there was no evidence whatever beyond the random confession of a +maniac. No detailed confession was ever made by her. "An eye for an +eye," she would say when interrogated,—"Is not that justice? A tooth +for a tooth!" Though she was for a while detained in prison it was +impossible to prosecute her,—even with a view to an acquittal on the +ground of insanity; and while the question was under discussion among +the lawyers, provision for her care and maintenance came from another +source.</p> + +<p>As also it did for the poor girl. For a while everything was done for +her under the care of Father Marty;—but there was another Earl of +Scroope in the world, and as soon as the story was known to him and the +circumstances had been made clear, he came forward to offer on behalf of +the family whatever assistance might now avail them anything. As months +rolled on the time of Kate O'Hara's further probation came, but Fate +spared her the burden and despair of a living infant. It was at last +thought better that she should go to her father and live in France with +him, reprobate though the man was. The priest offered to find a home for +her in his own house at Liscannor; but, as he said himself, he was an +old man, and one who when he went would leave no home behind him. And +then it was felt that the close vicinity of the spot on which her lover +had perished would produce a continued melancholy that might crush her +spirits utterly. Captain O'Hara therefore was desired to come and fetch +his child,—and he did so, with many protestations of virtue for the +future. If actual pecuniary comfort can conduce to virtue in such a man, +a chance was given him. The Earl of Scroope was only too liberal in the +settlement he made. But the settlement was on the daughter and not on +the father; and it is possible therefore that some gentle restraint may +have served to keep him out of the deep abysses of wickedness.</p> + +<p>The effects of the tragedy on the coast of Clare spread beyond Ireland, +and drove another woman to the verge of insanity. When the Countess of +Scroope heard the story, she shut herself up at Scroope and would see no +one but her own servants. When the succeeding Earl came to the house +which was now his own, she refused to admit him into her presence, and +declined even a renewed visit from Miss Mellerby who at that time had +returned to her father's roof. At last the clergyman of Scroope +prevailed, and to him she unburdened her soul,—acknowledging, with an +energy that went perhaps beyond the truth, the sin of her own conduct in +producing the catastrophe which had occurred. "I knew that he had +wronged her, and yet I bade him not to make her his wife." That was the +gist of her confession and she declared that the young man's blood would +be on her hands till she died. A small cottage was prepared for her on +the estate, and there she lived in absolute seclusion till death +relieved her from her sorrows.</p> + +<p>And she lived not only in seclusion, but in solitude almost to her +death. It was not till four years after the occurrences which have been +here related that John fourteenth Earl of Scroope brought a bride home +to Scroope Manor. The reader need hardly be told that that bride was +Sophie Mellerby. When the young Countess came to live at the Manor the +old Countess admitted her visits and at last found some consolation in +her friend's company. But it lasted not long, and then she was taken +away and buried beside her lord in the chancel of the parish church.</p> + +<p>When it was at last decided that the law should not interfere at all as +to the personal custody of the poor maniac who had sacrificed everything +to avenge her daughter, the Earl of Scroope selected for her comfort the +asylum in which she still continues to justify from morning to night, +and, alas, often all the night long, the terrible deed of which she is +ever thinking. "An eye for an eye," she says to the woman who watches +her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, ma'am; certainly."</p> + +<p>"An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth! Is it not so? An eye for an +eye!"</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EYE FOR AN EYE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 16804-h.txt or 16804-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/8/0/16804">https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/8/0/16804</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: An Eye for an Eye + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: October 6, 2005 [eBook #16804] +Most recently updated: January 25, 2017 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EYE FOR AN EYE*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +Editorial note + +This book is about the seduction of a young girl by the heir to an +earldom, the resulting illegitimate pregnancy, and the young nobleman's +struggle to decide whether to marry or to abandon the girl--certainly +not the usual content of Victorian novels. + +Trollope is believed to have written _An Eye for an Eye_ in 1870, but +he did not publish it until the fall of 1878, when it appeared in +serial form in the _Whitehall Review_, followed by publication of the +entire book in 1879. The reason for delaying publication is unknown, +although Trollope might have been concerned about the book's reception +by the public, given its subject matter and the hostile reception in +1853 of Elizabeth Gaskell's _Ruth_, which dealt with the same subject. + + + + + +AN EYE FOR AN EYE + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + +1879 + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + VOLUME I. + + INTRODUCTION + I. SCROOPE MANOR + II. FRED NEVILLE + III. SOPHIE MELLERBY + IV. JACK NEVILLE + V. ARDKILL COTTAGE + VI. I'LL GO BAIL SHE LIKES IT + VII. FATHER MARTY'S HOSPITALITY + VIII. I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO + IX. FRED NEVILLE RETURNS TO SCROOPE + X. FRED NEVILLE'S SCHEME + XI. THE WISDOM OF JACK NEVILLE + XII. FRED NEVILLE MAKES A PROMISE + + VOLUME II. + + I. FROM BAD TO WORSE + II. IS SHE TO BE YOUR WIFE? + III. FRED NEVILLE RECEIVES A VISITOR AT ENNIS + IV. NEVILLE'S SUCCESS + V. FRED NEVILLE IS AGAIN CALLED HOME TO SCROOPE + VI. THE EARL OF SCROOPE IS IN TROUBLE + VII. SANS REPROCHE + VIII. LOOSE ABOUT THE WORLD + IX. AT LISCANNOR + X. AT ARDKILL + XI. ON THE CLIFFS + XII. CONCLUSION + + + + + +VOLUME I. + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +At a private asylum in the west of England there lives, and has lived +for some years past, an unfortunate lady, as to whom there has long +since ceased to be any hope that she should ever live elsewhere. Indeed, +there is no one left belonging to her by whom the indulgence of such a +hope on her behalf could be cherished. Friends she has none; and her +own condition is such, that she recks nothing of confinement and does +not even sigh for release. And yet her mind is ever at work,--as is +doubtless always the case with the insane. She has present to her, +apparently in every waking moment of her existence, an object of intense +interest, and at that she works with a constancy which never wearies +herself, however fatiguing it may be to those who are near her. She is +ever justifying some past action of her life. "An eye for an eye," she +says, "and a tooth for a tooth. Is it not the law?" And these words she +will repeat daily, almost from morn till night. + +It has been said that this poor lady has no friends. Friends who would +be anxious for her recovery, who would care to see her even in her +wretched condition, who might try to soothe her harassed heart with +words of love, she has none. Such is her condition now, and her +temperament, that it may be doubted whether any words of love, however +tender, could be efficacious with her. She is always demanding +justification, and as those who are around her never thwart her she has +probably all the solace which kindness could give her. + +But, though she has no friends--none who love her,--she has all the +material comfort which friendship or even love could supply. All that +money can do to lessen her misery, is done. The house in which she lives +is surrounded by soft lawns and secluded groves. It has been prepared +altogether for the wealthy, and is furnished with every luxury which +it may be within the power of a maniac to enjoy. This lady has her own +woman to attend her; and the woman, though stout and masterful, is +gentle in language and kind in treatment. "An eye for an eye, ma'am. Oh, +certainly. That is the law. An eye for an eye, no doubt." This formula +she will repeat a dozen times a day--ay, a dozen dozen times, till the +wonder is that she also should not be mad. + +The reader need not fear that he is to be asked to loiter within the +precincts of an asylum for the insane. Of this abode of wretchedness no +word more shall be said; but the story shall be told of the lady who +dwelt there,--the story of her life till madness placed her within those +walls. That story was known to none at the establishment but to him who +was its head. Others there, who were cognisant of the condition of the +various patients, only knew that from quarter to quarter the charges for +this poor lady's custody were defrayed by the Earl of Scroope. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SCROOPE MANOR. + + +Some years ago, it matters not how many, the old Earl of Scroope lived +at Scroope Manor in Dorsetshire. The house was an Elizabethan structure +of some pretensions, but of no fame. It was not known to sight-seers, +as are so many of the residences of our nobility and country gentlemen. +No days in the week were appointed for visiting its glories, nor was +the housekeeper supposed to have a good thing in perquisites from +showing it. It was a large brick building facing on to the village +street,--facing the village, if the hall-door of a house be the main +characteristic of its face; but with a front on to its own grounds from +which opened the windows of the chief apartments. The village of Scroope +consisted of a straggling street a mile in length, with the church and +parsonage at one end, and the Manor-house almost at the other. But +the church stood within the park; and on that side of the street, for +more than half its length, the high, gloomy wall of the Earl's domain +stretched along in face of the publicans, bakers, grocers, two butchers, +and retired private residents whose almost contiguous houses made +Scroope itself seem to be more than a village to strangers. Close to the +Manor and again near to the church, some favoured few had been allowed +to build houses and to cultivate small gardens taken, as it were, in +notches out of the Manor grounds; but these tenements must have been +built at a time in which landowners were very much less jealous than +they are now of such encroachments from their humbler neighbours. + +The park itself was large, and the appendages to it such as were fit +for an Earl's establishment;--but there was little about it that was +attractive. The land lay flat, and the timber, which was very plentiful, +had not been made to group itself in picturesque forms. There was the +Manor wood, containing some five hundred acres, lying beyond the church +and far back from the road, intersected with so-called drives, which +were unfit for any wheels but those of timber waggons;--and round the +whole park there was a broad belt of trees. Here and there about the +large enclosed spaces there stood solitary oaks, in which the old Earl +took pride; but at Scroope Manor there was none of that finished +landscape beauty of which the owners of "places" in England are so +justly proud. + +The house was large, and the rooms were grand and spacious. There was an +enormous hall into one corner of which the front door opened. There was +a vast library filled with old books which no one ever touched,--huge +volumes of antiquated and now all but useless theology, and folio +editions of the least known classics,--such as men now never read. Not a +book had been added to it since the commencement of the century, and it +may almost be said that no book had been drawn from its shelves for real +use during the same period. There was a suite of rooms,--a salon with +two withdrawing rooms which now were never opened. The big dining-room +was used occasionally, as, in accordance with the traditions of the +family, dinner was served there whenever there were guests at the Manor. +Guests, indeed, at Scroope Manor were not very frequent;--but Lady +Scroope did occasionally have a friend or two to stay with her; and +at long intervals the country clergymen and neighbouring squires were +asked, with their wives, to dinner. When the Earl and his Countess were +alone they used a small breakfast parlour, and between this and the big +dining-room there was the little chamber in which the Countess usually +lived. The Earl's own room was at the back, or if the reader pleases, +front of the house, near the door leading into the street, and was, of +all rooms in the house, the gloomiest. + +The atmosphere of the whole place was gloomy. There were none of those +charms of modern creation which now make the mansions of the wealthy +among us bright and joyous. There was not a billiard table in the +house. There was no conservatory nearer than the large old-fashioned +greenhouse, which stood away by the kitchen garden and which seemed to +belong exclusively to the gardener. The papers on the walls were dark +and sombre. The mirrors were small and lustreless. The carpets were old +and dingy. The windows did not open on to the terrace. The furniture was +hardly ancient, but yet antiquated and uncomfortable. Throughout the +house, and indeed throughout the estate, there was sufficient evidence +of wealth; and there certainly was no evidence of parsimony; but at +Scroope Manor money seemed never to have produced luxury. The household +was very large. There was a butler, and a housekeeper, and various +footmen, and a cook with large wages, and maidens in tribes to wait upon +each other, and a colony of gardeners, and a coachman, and a head-groom, +and under-grooms. All these lived well under the old Earl, and knew the +value of their privileges. There was much to get, and almost nothing +to do. A servant might live for ever at Scroope Manor,--if only +sufficiently submissive to Mrs. Bunce the housekeeper. There was +certainly no parsimony at the Manor, but the luxurious living of the +household was confined to the servants' department. + +To a stranger, and perhaps also to the inmates, the idea of gloom about +the place was greatly increased by the absence of any garden or lawn +near the house. Immediately in front of the mansion, and between it and +the park, there ran two broad gravel terraces, one above another; and +below these the deer would come and browse. To the left of the house, +at nearly a quarter of a mile distant from it, there was a very large +garden indeed,--flower-gardens, and kitchen-gardens, and orchards; all +ugly, and old-fashioned, but producing excellent crops in their kind. +But they were away, and were not seen. Oat flowers were occasionally +brought into the house,--but the place was never filled with flowers +as country houses are filled with them now-a-days. No doubt had Lady +Scroope wished for more she might have had more. + +Scroope itself, though a large village, stood a good deal out of the +world. Within the last year or two a railway has been opened, with a +Scroope Road Station, not above three miles from the place; but in +the old lord's time it was eleven miles from its nearest station, at +Dorchester, with which it had communication once a day by an omnibus. +Unless a man had business with Scroope nothing would take him there; and +very few people had business with Scroope. Now and then a commercial +traveller would visit the place with but faint hopes as to trade. A +post-office inspector once in twelve months would call upon plethoric +old Mrs. Applejohn, who kept the small shop for stationery, and was +known as the postmistress. The two sons of the vicar, Mr. Greenmarsh, +would pass backwards and forwards between their father's vicarage and +Marlbro' school. And occasionally the men and women of Scroope would +make a journey to their county town. But the Earl was told that old Mrs. +Brock of the Scroope Arms could not keep the omnibus on the road unless +he would subscribe to aid it. Of course he subscribed. If he had been +told by his steward to subscribe to keep the cap on Mrs. Brock's head, +he would have done so. Twelve pounds a year his Lordship paid towards +the omnibus, and Scroope was not absolutely dissevered from the world. + +The Earl himself was never seen out of his own domain, except when +he attended church. This he did twice every Sunday in the year, the +coachman driving him there in the morning and the head-groom in the +afternoon. Throughout the household it was known to be the Earl's +request to his servants that they would attend divine service at least +once every Sunday. None were taken into service but they who were or +who called themselves members of the Church Establishment. It is hardly +probable that many dissenters threw away the chance of such promotion on +any frivolous pretext of religion. Beyond this request, which, coming +from the mouth of Mrs. Bunce, became very imperative, the Earl hardly +ever interfered with his domestics. His own valet had attended him for +the last thirty years; but, beyond his valet and the butler, he hardly +knew the face of one of them. There was a gamekeeper at Scroope Manor, +with two under-gamekeepers; and yet, for, some years, no one, except the +gamekeepers, had ever shot over the lands. Some partridges and a few +pheasants were, however, sent into the house when Mrs. Bunce, moved to +wrath, would speak her mind on that subject. + +The Earl of Scroope himself was a tall, thin man, something over seventy +at the time of which I will now begin to speak. His shoulders were much +bent, but otherwise he appeared to be younger than his age. His hair was +nearly white, but his eyes were still bright, and the handsome well-cut +features of his fine face were not reduced to shapelessness by any of +the ravages of time, as is so often the case with men who are infirm as +well as old. Were it not for the long and heavy eyebrows, which gave +something of severity to his face, and for that painful stoop in his +shoulders, he might still have been accounted a handsome man. In youth +he had been a very handsome man, and had shone forth in the world, +popular, beloved, respected, with all the good things the world could +give. The first blow upon him was the death of his wife. That hurt him +sorely, but it did not quite crush him. Then his only daughter died +also, just as she became a bride. High as the Lady Blanche Neville +had stood herself, she had married almost above her rank, and her +father's heart had been full of joy and pride. But she had perished +childless,--in child-birth, and again he was hurt almost to death. There +was still left to him a son,--a youth indeed thoughtless, lavish, and +prone to evil pleasures. But thought would come with years; for almost +any lavishness there were means sufficient; and evil pleasures might +cease to entice. The young Lord Neville was all that was left to the +Earl, and for his heir he paid debts and forgave injuries. The young +man would marry and all might be well. Then he found a bride for his +boy,--with no wealth, but owning the best blood in the kingdom, beautiful, +good, one who might be to him as another daughter. His boy's answer was +that he was already married! He had chosen his wife from out of the +streets, and offered to the Earl of Scroope as a child to replace the +daughter who had gone, a wretched painted prostitute from France. After +that Lord Scroope never again held up his head. + +The father would not see his heir,--and never saw him again. As to what +money might be needed, the lawyers in London were told to manage that. +The Earl himself would give nothing and refuse nothing. When there were +debts,--debts for the second time, debts for the third time, the lawyers +were instructed to do what in their own eyes seemed good to them. They +might pay as long as they deemed it right to pay, but they might not +name Lord Neville to his father. + +While things were thus the Earl married again,--the penniless daughter +of a noble house,--a woman not young, for she was forty when he married +her, but more than twenty years his junior. It sufficed for him that she +was noble, and as he believed good. Good to him she was,--with a duty +that was almost excessive. Religious she was, and self-denying; giving +much and demanding little; keeping herself in the background, but +possessing wonderful energy in the service of others. Whether she could +in truth be called good the reader may say when he has finished this +story. + +Then, when the Earl had been married some three years to his second +wife, the heir died. He died, and as far as Scroope Manor was concerned +there was an end of him and of the creature he had called his wife. +An annuity was purchased for her. That she should be entitled to call +herself Lady Neville while she lived, was the sad necessity of the +condition. It was understood by all who came near the Earl that no one +was to mention her within his hearing. He was thankful that no heir had +come from that most horrid union. The woman was never mentioned to him +again, nor need she trouble us further in the telling of our chronicle. + +But when Lord Neville died, it was necessary that the old man should +think of his new heir. Alas; in that family, though there was much that +was good and noble, there had ever been intestine feuds,--causes of +quarrel in which each party would be sure that he was right. They were +a people who thought much of the church, who were good to the poor, who +strove to be noble;--but they could not forgive injuries. They could +not forgive even when there were no injuries. The present Earl had +quarrelled with his brother in early life;--and had therefore quarrelled +with all that had belonged to the brother. The brother was now gone, +leaving two sons behind him,--two young Nevilles, Fred and Jack, of whom +Fred, the eldest, was now the heir. It was at last settled that Fred +should be sent for to Scroope Manor. Fred came, being at that time a +lieutenant in a cavalry regiment,--a fine handsome youth of five and +twenty, with the Neville eyes and Neville finely cut features. Kindly +letters passed between the widowed mother and the present Lady Scroope; +and it was decided at last, at his own request, that he should remain +one year longer in the army, and then be installed as the eldest son at +Scroope Manor. Again the lawyer was told to do what was proper in regard +to money. + +A few words more must be said of Lady Scroope, and then the preface to +our story will be over. She too was an Earl's daughter, and had been +much loved by our Earl's first wife. Lady Scroope had been the elder by +ten years; but yet they had been dear friends, and Lady Mary Wycombe had +passed many months of her early life amidst the gloom of the great rooms +at Scroope Manor. She had thus known the Earl well before she consented +to marry him. She had never possessed beauty,--and hardly grace. She was +strong featured, tall, with pride clearly written in her face. A reader +of faces would have declared at once that she was proud of the blood +which ran in her veins. She was very proud of her blood, and did in +truth believe that noble birth was a greater gift than any wealth. She +was thoroughly able to look down upon a parvenu millionaire,--to look +down upon such a one and not to pretend to despise him. When the Earl's +letter came to her asking her to share his gloom, she was as poor as +Charity,--dependent on a poor brother who hated the burden of such +claim. But she would have wedded no commoner, let his wealth and age +have been as they might. She knew Lord Scroope's age, and she knew the +gloom of Scroope Manor;--and she became his wife. To her of course was +told the story of the heir's marriage, and she knew that she could +expect no light, no joy in the old house from the scions of the rising +family. But now all this was changed, and it might be that she could +take the new heir to her heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +FRED NEVILLE. + + +When Fred Neville first came to the Manor, the old Earl trembled when +called upon to receive him. Of the lad he had heard almost nothing,--of +his appearance literally nothing. It might be that his heir would be +meanly visaged, a youth of whom he would have cause to be ashamed, +one from whose countenance no sign of high blood would shine out; or, +almost worse, he also might have that look, half of vanity, and half +of vice, of which the father had gradually become aware in his own +son, and which in him had degraded the Neville beauty. But Fred, to +look at, was a gallant fellow,--such a youth as women love to see +about a house,--well-made, active, quick, self-asserting, fair-haired, +blue-eyed, short-lipped, with small whiskers, thinking but little of his +own personal advantages, but thinking much of his own way. As far as the +appearance of the young man went the Earl could not but be satisfied. +And to him, at any rate in this, the beginning of their connexion, Fred +Neville was modest and submissive. "You are welcome to Scroope," said +the old man, receiving him with stately urbanity in the middle of the +hall. "I am so much obliged to you, uncle," he said. "You are come to +me as a son, my boy,--as a son. It will be your own fault if you are +not a son to us in everything." Then in lieu of further words there +shone a tear in each of the young man's eyes, much more eloquent to the +Earl than could have been any words. He put his arm over his nephew's +shoulders, and in this guise walked with him into the room in which Lady +Scroope was awaiting them. "Mary," he said to his wife, "here is our +heir. Let him be a son to us." Then Lady Scroope took the young man +in her arms and kissed him. Thus auspiciously was commenced this new +connexion. + +The arrival was in September, and the game-keeper, with the under +gamekeeper, had for the last month been told to be on his mettle. Young +Mr. Neville was no doubt a sportsman. And the old groom had been warned +that hunters might be wanted in the stables next winter. Mrs. Bunce +was made to understand that liberties would probably be taken with the +house, such as had not yet been perpetrated in her time;--for the late +heir had never made the Manor his home from the time of his leaving +school. It was felt by all that great changes were to be effected,--and +it was felt also that the young man on whose behalf all this was to be +permitted, could not but be elated by his position. Of such elation, +however, there were not many signs. To his uncle, Fred Neville was, as +has been said, modest and submissive; to his aunt he was gentle but not +submissive. The rest of the household he treated civilly, but with none +of that awe which was perhaps expected from him. As for shooting, he +had come direct from his friend Carnaby's moor. Carnaby had forest +as well as moor, and Fred thought but little of partridges,--little +of such old-fashioned partridge-shooting as was prepared for him at +Scroope,--after grouse and deer. As for hunting in Dorsetshire, if his +uncle wished it,--why in that case he would think of it. According to +his ideas, Dorsetshire was not the best county in England for hunting. +Last year his regiment had been at Bristol and he had ridden with the +Duke's hounds. This winter he was to be stationed in Ireland, and he had +an idea that Irish hunting was good. If he found that his uncle made +a point of it, he would bring his horses to Scroope for a month at +Christmas. Thus he spoke to the head groom,--and thus he spoke also to +his aunt, who felt some surprise when he talked of Scotland and his +horses. She had thought that only men of large fortunes shot deer and +kept studs,--and perhaps conceived that the officers of the 20th Hussars +were generally engaged in looking after the affairs of their regiment, +and in preparation for meeting the enemy. + +Fred now remained a month at Scroope, and during that time there was but +little personal intercourse between him and his uncle in spite of the +affectionate greeting with which their acquaintance had been commenced. +The old man's habits of life were so confirmed that he could not bring +himself to alter them. Throughout the entire morning he would sit in +his own room alone. He would then be visited by his steward, his groom, +and his butler;--and would think that he gave his orders, submitting, +however, in almost every thing to them. His wife would sometimes sit +with him for half an hour, holding his hand, in moments of tenderness +unseen and unsuspected by all the world around them. Sometimes the +clergyman of the parish would come to him, so that he might know the +wants of the people. He would have the newspaper in his hands for +a while, and would daily read the Bible for an hour. Then he would +slowly write some letter, almost measuring every point which his pen +made,--thinking that thus he was performing his duty as a man of +business. Few men perhaps did less,--but what he did do was good; and +of self-indulgence there was surely none. Between such a one and the +young man who had now come to his house there could be but little real +connexion. + +Between Fred Neville and Lady Scroope there arose a much closer +intimacy. A woman can get nearer to a young man than can any old +man;--can learn more of his ways, and better understand his wishes. From +the very first there arose between them a matter of difference, as to +which there was no quarrel, but very much of argument. In that argument +Lady Scroope was unable to prevail. She was very anxious that the heir +should at once abandon his profession and sell out of the army. Of what +use could it be to him now to run after his regiment to Ireland, seeing +that undoubtedly the great duties of his life all centred at Scroope? +There were many discussions on the subject, but Fred would not give +way in regard to the next year. He would have this year, he said, to +himself;--and after that he would come and settle himself at Scroope. +Yes; no doubt he would marry as soon as he could find a fitting wife. Of +course it would be right that he should marry. He fully understood the +responsibilities of his position;--so he said, in answer to his aunt's +eager, scrutinising, beseeching questions. But as he had joined his +regiment, he thought it would be good for him to remain with it one year +longer. He particularly desired to see something of Ireland, and if he +did not do so now, he would never have the opportunity. Lady Scroope, +understanding well that he was pleading for a year of grace from the +dulness of the Manor, explained to him that his uncle would by no means +expect that he should remain always at Scroope. If he would marry, +the old London house should be prepared for him and his bride. He +might travel,--not, however, going very far afield. He might get into +Parliament; as to which, if such were his ambition, his uncle would give +him every aid. He might have his friends at Scroope Manor,--Carnaby and +all the rest of them. Every allurement was offered to him. But he had +commenced by claiming a year of grace, and to that claim he adhered. + +Could his uncle have brought himself to make the request in person, at +first, he might probably have succeeded;--and had he succeeded, there +would have been no story for us as to the fortunes of Scroope Manor. But +the Earl was too proud and perhaps too diffident to make the attempt. +From his wife he heard all that took place; and though he was grieved, +he expressed no anger. He could not feel himself justified in expressing +anger because his nephew chose to remain for yet a year attached to his +profession. "Who knows what may happen to him?" said the Countess. + +"Ah, indeed! But we are all in the hands of the Almighty." And the +Earl bowed his head. Lady Scroope, fully recognizing the truth of her +husband's pious ejaculation, nevertheless thought that human care might +advantageously be added to the divine interposition for which, as she +well knew, her lord prayed fervently as soon as the words were out of +his mouth. + +"But it would be so great a thing if he could be settled. Sophia +Mellerby has promised to come here for a couple of months in the winter. +He could not possibly do better than that." + +"The Mellerbys are very good people," said the Earl. "Her grandmother, +the duchess, is one of the very best women in England. Her mother, Lady +Sophia, is an excellent creature,--religious, and with the soundest +principles. Mr. Mellerby, as a commoner, stands as high as any man in +England." + +"They have held the same property since the wars of the roses. And then +I suppose the money should count for something," added the lady. + +Lord Scroope would not admit the importance of the money, but was quite +willing to acknowledge that were his heir to make Sophia Mellerby the +future Lady Scroope he would be content. But he could not interfere. +He did not think it wise to speak to young men on such a subject. He +thought that by doing so a young man might be rather diverted from than +attracted to the object in view. Nor would he press his wishes upon his +nephew as to next year. "Were I to ask it," he said, "and were he to +refuse me, I should be hurt. I am bound therefore to ask nothing that +is unreasonable." Lady Scroope did not quite agree with her husband +in this. She thought that as every thing was to be done for the young +man; as money almost without stint was to be placed at his command; as +hunting, parliament, and a house in London were offered to him;--as +the treatment due to a dear and only son was shown to him, he ought to +give something in return; but she herself, could say no more than she +had said, and she knew already that in those few matters in which her +husband had a decided will, he was not to be turned from it. + +It was arranged, therefore, that Fred Neville should join his regiment +at Limerick in October, and that he should come home to Scroope for a +fortnight or three weeks at Christmas. Sophia Mellerby was to be Lady +Scroope's guest at that time, and at last it was decided that Mrs. +Neville, who had never been seen by the Earl, should be asked to +come and bring with her her younger son, John Neville, who had been +successful in obtaining a commission in the Engineers. Other guests +should be invited, and an attempt should be made to remove the mantle +of gloom from Scroope Manor,--with the sole object of ingratiating the +heir. + +Early in October Fred went to Limerick, and from thence with a detached +troop of his regiment he was sent to the cavalry barracks at Ennis, the +assize town of the neighbouring County Clare. This was at first held to +be a misfortune by him, as Limerick is in all respects a better town +than Ennis, and in County Limerick the hunting is far from being bad, +whereas Clare is hardly a country for a Nimrod. But a young man, with +money at command, need not regard distances; and the Limerick balls and +the Limerick coverts were found to be equally within reach. From Ennis +also he could attend some of the Galway meets,--and then with no other +superior than a captain hardly older than himself to interfere with +his movements, he could indulge in that wild district the spirit of +adventure which was strong within him. When young men are anxious to +indulge the spirit of adventure, they generally do so by falling in love +with young women of whom their fathers and mothers would not approve. In +these days a spirit of adventure hardly goes further than this, unless +it take a young man to a German gambling table. + +When Fred left Scroope it was understood that he was to correspond +with his aunt. The Earl would have been utterly lost had he attempted +to write a letter to his nephew without having something special to +communicate to him. But Lady Scroope was more facile with her pen, +and it was rightly thought that the heir would hardly bring himself +to look upon Scroope as his home, unless some link were maintained +between himself and the place. Lady Scroope therefore wrote once a +week,--telling everything that there was to be told of the horses, the +game, and even of the tenants. She studied her letters, endeavouring to +make them light and agreeable,--such as a young man of large prospects +would like to receive from his own mother. He was "Dearest Fred," and +in one of those earliest written she expressed a hope that should any +trouble ever fall upon him he would come to her as to his dearest +friend. Fred was not a bad correspondent, and answered about every other +letter. His replies were short, but that was a matter of course. He was +"as jolly as a sandboy," "right as a trivet;" had had "one or two very +good things," and thought that upon the whole he liked Ennis better than +Limerick. "Johnstone is such a deuced good fellow!" Johnstone was the +captain of the 20th Hussars who happened to be stationed with him at +Limerick. Lady Scroope did not quite like the epithet, but she knew +that she had to learn to hear things to which she had hitherto not been +accustomed. + +This was all very well;--but Lady Scroope, having a friend in Co. Clare, +thought that she might receive tidings of the adopted one which would be +useful, and with this object she opened a correspondence with Lady Mary +Quin. Lady Mary Quin was a daughter of the Earl of Kilfenora, and was +well acquainted with all County Clare. She was almost sure to hear of +the doings of any officers stationed at Ennis, and would do so certainly +in regard to an officer that was specially introduced to her. Fred +Neville was invited to stay at Castle Quin as long as he pleased, and +actually did pass one night under its roof. But, unfortunately for him, +that spirit of adventure which he was determined to indulge led him into +the neighbourhood of Castle Quin when it was far from his intention to +interfere with the Earl or with Lady Mary, and thus led to the following +letter which Lady Scroope received about the middle of December,--just a +week before Fred's return to the Manor. + + + QUIN CASTLE, ENNISTIMON, + 14 December, 18--. + + MY DEAR LADY SCROOPE, + + Since I wrote to you before, Mr. Neville has been here once, and we + all liked him very much. My father was quite taken with him. He is + always fond of the young officers, and is not the less inclined to + be so of one who is so dear and near to you. I wish he would have + stayed longer, and hope that he shall come again. We have not much + to offer in the way of amusement, but in January and February there + is good snipe shooting. + + I find that Mr. Neville is very fond of shooting,--so much so that + before we knew anything of him except his name we had heard that he + had been on our coast after seals and sea birds. We have very high + cliffs near here,--some people say the highest in the world, and + there is one called the Hag's Head from which men get down and + shoot sea-gulls. He has been different times in our village of + Liscannor, and I think he has a boat there or at Lahinch. I believe + he has already killed ever so many seals. + + I tell you all this for a reason. I hope that it may come to + nothing, but I think that you ought to know. There is a widow lady + living not very far from Liscannor, but nearer up to the cliffs. + Her cottage is on papa's property, but I think she holds it from + somebody else. I don't like to say anything to papa about it. Her + name is Mrs. O'Hara, and she has a daughter. + + +When Lady Scroope had read so far, she almost let the paper drop from +her hand. Of course she knew what it all meant. An Irish Miss O'Hara! +And Fred Neville was spending his time in pursuit of this girl! Lady +Scroope had known what it would be when the young man was allowed to +return to his regiment in spite of the manifold duties which should have +bound him to Scroope Manor. + + + I have seen this young lady, + + +continued Lady Mary, + + + and she is certainly very pretty. But nobody knows anything about + them; and I cannot even learn whether they belong to the real + O'Haras. I should think not, as they are Roman Catholics. At + any rate Miss O'Hara can hardly be a fitting companion for Lord + Scroope's heir. I believe they are ladies, but I don't think that + any one knows them here, except the priest of Kilmacrenny. We never + could make out quite why they came here,--only that Father Marty + knows something about them. He is the priest of Kilmacrenny. She is + a very pretty girl, and I never heard a word against her;--but I + don't know whether that does not make it worse, because a young man + is so likely to get entangled. + + I daresay nothing shall come of it, and I'm sure I hope that + nothing may. But I thought it best to tell you. Pray do not let him + know that you have heard from me. Young men are so very particular + about things, and I don't know what he might say of me if he knew + that I had written home to you about his private affairs. All the + same if I can be of any service to you, pray let me know. Excuse + haste. And believe me to be, + + Yours most sincerely, + + MARY QUIN. + + +A Roman Catholic;--one whom no one knew but the priest;--a girl who +perhaps never had a father! All this was terrible to Lady Scroope. Roman +Catholics,--and especially Irish Roman Catholics,--were people whom, +as she thought, every one should fear in this world, and for whom +everything was to be feared in the next. How would it be with the Earl +if this heir also were to tell him some day that he was married? Would +not his grey hairs be brought to the grave with a double load of sorrow? +However, for the present she thought it better to say not a word to the +Earl. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +SOPHIE MELLERBY. + + +Lady Scroope thought a great deal about her friend's communication, but +at last made up her mind that she could do nothing till Fred should have +returned. Indeed she hardly knew what she could do when he did come +back. The more she considered it the greater seemed to her to be the +difficulty of doing anything. How is a woman, how is even a mother, to +caution a young man against the danger of becoming acquainted with a +pretty girl? She could not mention Miss O'Hara's name without mentioning +that of Lady Mary Quin in connexion with it. And when asked, as of +course she would be asked, as to her own information, what could she +say? She had been told that he had made himself acquainted with a widow +lady who had a pretty daughter, and that was all! When young men will +run into such difficulties, it is, alas, so very difficult to interfere +with them! + +And yet the matter was of such importance as to justify almost any +interference. A Roman Catholic Irish girl of whom nothing was known but +that her mother was said to be a widow, was, in Lady Scroope's eyes, as +formidable a danger as could come in the way of her husband's heir. Fred +Neville was, she thought, with all his good qualities, exactly the man +to fall in love with a wild Irish girl. If Fred were to write home some +day and say that he was about to marry such a bride,--or, worse again, +that he had married her, the tidings would nearly kill the Earl. After +all that had been endured, such a termination to the hopes of the family +would be too cruel! And Lady Scroope could not but feel the injustice of +it. Every thing was being done for this heir, for whom nothing need have +been done. He was treated as a son, but he was not a son. He was treated +with exceptional favour as a son. Everything was at his disposal. He +might marry and begin life at once with every want amply supplied, if +he would only marry such a woman as was fit to be a future Countess of +Scroope. Very little was required from him. He was not expected to marry +an heiress. An heiress indeed was prepared for him, and would be there, +ready for him at Christmas,--an heiress, beautiful, well-born, fit in +every respect,--religious too. But he was not to be asked to marry +Sophie Mellerby. He might choose for himself. There were other well-born +young women about the world,--duchesses' granddaughters in abundance! +But it was imperative that he should marry at least a lady, and at least +a Protestant. + +Lady Scroope felt very strongly that he should never have been allowed +to rejoin his regiment, when a home at Scroope was offered to him. He +was a free agent of course, and equally of course the title and the +property must ultimately be his. But something of a bargain might have +been made with him when all the privileges of a son were offered to him. +When he was told that he might have all Scroope to himself,--for it +amounted nearly to that; that he might hunt there and shoot there and +entertain his friends; that the family house in London should be given +up to him if he would marry properly; that an income almost without +limit should be provided for him, surely it would not have been too much +to demand that as a matter of course he should leave the army! But this +had not been done; and now there was an Irish Roman Catholic widow with +a daughter, with seal-shooting and a boat and high cliffs right in the +young man's way! Lady Scroope could not analyse it, but felt all the +danger as though it were by instinct. Partridge and pheasant shooting +on a gentleman's own grounds, and an occasional day's hunting with the +hounds in his own county, were, in Lady Scroope's estimation, becoming +amusements for an English gentleman. They did not interfere with the +exercise of his duties. She had by no means brought herself to like the +yearly raids into Scotland made latterly by sportsmen. But if Scotch +moors and forests were dangerous, what were Irish cliffs! Deer-stalking +was bad in her imagination. She was almost sure that when men went up +to Scotch forests they did not go to church on Sundays. But the idea of +seal-shooting was much more horrible. And then there was that priest who +was the only friend of the widow who had the daughter! + +On the morning of the day in which Fred was to reach the Manor, Lady +Scroope did speak to her husband. "Don't you think, my dear, that +something might be done to prevent Fred's returning to that horrid +country?" + +"What can we do?" + +"I suppose he would wish to oblige you. You are being very good to him." + +"It is for the old to give, Mary, and for the young to accept. I do all +for him because he is all to me; but what am I to him, that he should +sacrifice any pleasure for me? He can break my heart. Were I even to +quarrel with him, the worst I could do would be to send him to the +money-lenders for a year or two." + +"But why should he care about his regiment now?" + +"Because his regiment means liberty." + +"And you won't ask him to give it up?" + +"I think not. If I were to ask him I should expect him to yield, and +then I should be disappointed were he to refuse. I do not wish him to +think me a tyrant." This was the end of the conversation, for Lady +Scroope did not as yet dare to speak to the Earl about the widow and her +daughter. She must now try her skill and eloquence with the young man +himself. + +The young man arrived and was received with kindest greetings. Two +horses had preceded him, so that he might find himself mounted as soon +as he chose after his arrival, and two others were coming. This was all +very well, but his aunt was a little hurt when he declared his purpose +of going down to the stables just as she told him that Sophia Mellerby +was in the house. He arrived on the 23rd at 4 P.M., and it had been +declared that he was to hunt on the morrow. It was already dark, and +surely he might have been content on the first evening of his arrival to +abstain from the stables! Not a word had been said to Sophie Mellerby +of Lady Scroope's future hopes. Lady Scroope and Lady Sophia would each +have thought that it was wicked to do so. But the two women had been +fussy, and Miss Mellerby must have been less discerning than are young +ladies generally, had she not understood what was expected of her. Girls +are undoubtedly better prepared to fall in love with men whom they have +never seen, than are men with girls. It is a girl's great business in +life to love and to be loved. Of some young men it may almost be said +that it is their great business to avoid such a catastrophe. Such ought +not to have been the case with Fred Neville now;--but in such light he +regarded it. He had already said to himself that Sophie Mellerby was to +be pitched at his head. He knew no reason,--none as yet,--why he should +not like Miss Mellerby well enough. But he was a little on his guard +against her, and preferred seeing his horses first. Sophie, when +according to custom, and indeed in this instance in accordance with +special arrangement, she went into Lady Scroope's sitting-room for tea, +was rather disappointed at not finding Mr. Neville there. She knew that +he had visited his uncle immediately on his arrival, and having just +come in from the park she had gone to her room to make some little +preparation for the meeting. If it was written in Fate's book that she +was to be the next Lady Scroope, the meeting was important. Perhaps that +writing in Fate's book might depend on the very adjustment which she was +now making of her hair. + +"He has gone to look at his horses," said Lady Scroope, unable not to +shew her disappointment by the tone of her voice. + +"That is so natural," said Sophie, who was more cunning. "Young men +almost idolize their horses. I should like to go and see Dandy whenever +he arrives anywhere, only I don't dare!" Dandy was Miss Mellerby's own +horse, and was accustomed to make journeys up and down between Mellerby +and London. + +"I don't think horses and guns and dogs should be too much thought of," +said Lady Scroope gravely. "There is a tendency I think at present to +give them an undue importance. When our amusements become more serious +to us than our business, we must be going astray." + +"I suppose we always are going astray," said Miss Mellerby. Lady Scroope +sighed and shook her head; but in shaking it she shewed that she +completely agreed with the opinion expressed by her guest. + +As there were only two horses to be inspected, and as Fred Neville +absolutely refused the groom's invitation to look at the old carriage +horses belonging to the family, he was back in his aunt's room before +Miss Mellerby had gone upstairs to dress for dinner. The introduction +was made, and Fred did his best to make himself agreeable. He was such +a man that no girl could, at the first sight of him, think herself +injured by being asked to love him. She was a good girl, and would have +consented to marry no man without feeling sure of his affections; but +Fred Neville was bold and frank as well as handsome, and had plenty to +say for himself. It might be that he was vicious, or ill-tempered, or +selfish, and it would be necessary that she should know much of him +before she would give herself into his keeping; but as far as the first +sight went, and the first hearing, Sophie Mellerby's impressions were +all in Fred's favour. It is no doubt a fact that with the very best of +girls a man is placed in a very good light by being heir to a peerage +and a large property. + +"Do you hunt, Miss Mellerby?" he asked. She shook her head and looked +grave, and then laughed. Among her people hunting was not thought to be +a desirable accomplishment for young ladies. "Almost all girls do hunt +now," said Fred. + +"Do you think it is a nice amusement for young ladies?" asked the aunt +in a severe tone. + +"I don't see why not;--that is if they know how to ride." + +"I know how to ride," said Sophie Mellerby. + +"Riding is all very well," said Lady Scroope. "I quite approve of it +for girls. When I was young, everybody did not ride as they do now. +Nevertheless it is very well, and is thought to be healthy. But as for +hunting, Sophie, I'm sure your mamma would be very much distressed if +you were to think of such a thing." + +"But, dear Lady Scroope, I haven't thought of it, and I am not going to +think of it;--and if I thought of it ever so much, I shouldn't do it. +Poor mamma would be frightened into fits,--only that nobody at Mellerby +could possibly be made to believe it, unless they saw me doing it." + +"Then there can be no reason why you shouldn't make the attempt," said +Fred. Upon which Lady Scroope pretended to look grave, and told him that +he was very wicked. But let an old lady be ever so strict towards her +own sex, she likes a little wickedness in a young man,--if only he does +not carry it to the extent of marrying the wrong sort of young woman. + +Sophia Mellerby was a tall, graceful, well-formed girl, showing her high +blood in every line of her face. On her mother's side she had come from +the Ancrums, whose family, as everybody knows, is one of the oldest in +England; and, as the Earl had said, the Mellerbys had been Mellerbys +from the time of King John, and had been living on the same spot for +at least four centuries. They were and always had been Mellerbys of +Mellerby,--the very name of the parish being the same as that of the +family. If Sophia Mellerby did not shew breeding, what girl could shew +it? She was fair, with a somewhat thin oval face, with dark eyes, and +an almost perfect Grecian nose. Her mouth was small, and her chin +delicately formed. And yet it can hardly be said that she was beautiful. +Or, if beautiful, she was so in women's eyes rather than in those of +men. She lacked colour and perhaps animation in her countenance. She had +more character, indeed, than was told by her face, which is generally +so true an index of the mind. Her education had been as good as England +could afford, and her intellect had been sufficient to enable her to +make use of it. But her chief charm in the eyes of many consisted in the +fact, doubted by none, that she was every inch a lady. She was an only +daughter, too,--with an only brother; and as the Ancrums were all rich, +she would have a very pretty fortune of her own. Fred Neville, who had +literally been nobody before his cousin had died, might certainly do +much worse than marry her. + +And after a day or two they did seem to get on very well together. He +had reached Scroope on the 21st, and on the 23rd Mrs. Neville arrived +with her youngest son Jack Neville. This was rather a trial to the Earl, +as he had never yet seen his brother's widow. He had heard when his +brother married that she was fast, fond of riding, and loud. She had +been the daughter of a Colonel Smith, with whom his brother, at that +time a Captain Neville, had formed acquaintance;--and had been a beauty +very well known as such at Dublin and other garrison towns. No real harm +had ever been known of her, but the old Earl had always felt that his +brother had made an unfortunate marriage. As at that time they had not +been on speaking terms, it had not signified much;--but there had been a +prejudice at Scroope against the Captain's wife, which by no means died +out when the late Julia Smith became the Captain's widow with two sons. +Old reminiscences remain very firm with old people,--and Lord Scroope +was still much afraid of the fast, loud beauty. His principles told him +that he should not sever the mother from the son, and that as it suited +him to take the son for his own purposes, he should also, to some +extent, accept the mother also. But he dreaded the affair. He dreaded +Mrs. Neville; and he dreaded Jack, who had been so named after his +gallant grandfather, Colonel Smith. When Mrs. Neville arrived, she was +found to be so subdued and tame that she could hardly open her mouth +before the old Earl. Her loudness, if she ever had been loud, was +certainly all gone,--and her fastness, if ever she had been fast, had +been worn out of her. She was an old woman, with the relics of great +beauty, idolizing her two sons for whom all her life had been a +sacrifice, in weak health, and prepared, if necessary, to sit in silent +awe at the feet of the Earl who had been so good to her boy. + +"I don't know how to thank you for what you have done," she said, in a +low voice. + +"No thanks are required," said the Earl. "He is the same to us as if he +were our own." Then she raised the old man's hand and kissed it,--and +the old man owned to himself that he had made a mistake. + +As to Jack Neville--. But Jack Neville shall have another chapter opened +on his behalf. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +JACK NEVILLE. + + +John is a very respectable name;--perhaps there is no name more +respectable in the English language. Sir John, as the head of a family, +is certainly as respectable as any name can be. For an old family +coachman it beats all names. Mr. John Smith would be sure to have a +larger balance at his banker's than Charles Smith or Orlando Smith,--or +perhaps than any other Smith whatever. The Rev. Frederic Walker +might be a wet parson, but the Rev. John Walker would assuredly be +a good clergyman at all points, though perhaps a little dull in his +sermons. Yet almost all Johns have been Jacks, and Jack, in point of +respectability, is the very reverse of John. How it is, or when it +is, that the Jacks become re-Johned, and go back to the original and +excellent name given to them by their godfathers and godmothers, nobody +ever knows. Jack Neville, probably through some foolish fondness on his +mother's part, had never been re-Johned,--and consequently the Earl, +when he made up his mind to receive his sister-in-law, was at first +unwilling to invite his younger nephew. "But he is in the Engineers," +said Lady Scroope. The argument had its weight, and Jack Neville was +invited. But even that argument failed to obliterate the idea which had +taken hold of the Earl's mind. There had never yet been a Jack among the +Scroopes. + +When Jack came he was found to be very unlike the Nevilles in +appearance. In the first place he was dark, and in the next place he +was ugly. He was a tall, well-made fellow, taller than his brother, +and probably stronger; and he had very different eyes,--very dark +brown eyes, deeply set in his head, with large dark eyebrows. He wore +his black hair very short, and had no beard whatever. His features +were hard, and on one cheek he had a cicatrice, the remains of some +misfortune that had happened to him in his boyhood. But in spite of his +ugliness,--for he was ugly, there was much about him in his gait and +manner that claimed attention. Lord Scroope, the moment that he saw him, +felt that he ought not to be called Jack. Indeed the Earl was almost +afraid of him, and so after a time was the Countess. "Jack ought to have +been the eldest," Fred had said to his aunt. + +"Why should he have been the eldest?" + +"Because he is so much the cleverest. I could never have got into the +Engineers." + +"That seems to be a reason why he should be the youngest," said Lady +Scroope. + +Two or three other people arrived, and the house became much less +dull than was its wont. Jack Neville occasionally rode his brother's +horses, and the Earl was forced to acknowledge another mistake. The +mother was very silent, but she was a lady. The young Engineer was not +only a gentleman,--but for his age a very well educated gentleman, and +Lord Scroope was almost proud of his relatives. For the first week the +affair between Fred Neville and Miss Mellerby really seemed to make +progress. She was not a girl given to flirting,--not prone to outward +demonstrations of partiality for a young man; but she never withdrew +herself from her intended husband, and Fred seemed quite willing to +be attentive. Not a word was said to hurry the young people, and Lady +Scroope's hopes were high. Of course no allusion had been made to those +horrid Irish people, but it did not seem to Lady Scroope that the heir +had left his heart behind him in Co. Clare. + +Fred had told his aunt in one of his letters that he would stay three +weeks at Scroope, but she had not supposed that he would limit himself +exactly to that period. No absolute limit had been fixed for the visit +of Mrs. Neville and her younger son, but it was taken for granted that +they would not remain should Fred depart. As to Sophie Mellerby, her +visit was elastic. She was there for a purpose, and might remain all the +winter if the purpose could be so served. For the first fortnight Lady +Scroope thought that the affair was progressing well. Fred hunted three +days a week, and was occasionally away from home,--going to dine with +a regiment at Dorchester, and once making a dash up to London; but his +manner to Miss Mellerby was very nice, and there could be no doubt but +that Sophie liked him. When, on a sudden, the heir said a word to his +aunt which was almost equal to firing a pistol at her head. "I think +Master Jack is making it all square with Sophie Mellerby." + +If there was anything that Lady Scroope hated almost as much as improper +marriages it was slang. She professed that she did not understand it; +and in carrying out her profession always stopped the conversation to +have any word explained to her which she thought had been used in an +improper sense. The idea of a young man making it "all square" with a +young woman was repulsive, but the idea of this young man making it "all +square" with this young woman was so much more repulsive, and the misery +to her was so intensely heightened by the unconcern displayed by the +heir in so speaking of the girl with whom he ought to have been making +it "all square" himself, that she could hardly allow herself to be +arrested by that stumbling block. "Impossible!" she exclaimed,--"that is +if you mean,--if you mean,--if you mean anything at all." + +"I do mean a good deal." + +"Then I don't believe a word of it. It's quite out of the question. It's +impossible. I'm quite sure your brother understands his position as a +gentleman too thoroughly to dream of such a thing." + +This was Greek to Fred Neville. Why his brother should not fall in love +with a pretty girl, and why a pretty girl should not return the feeling, +without any disgrace to his brother, Fred could not understand. His +brother was a Neville, and was moreover an uncommonly clever fellow. +"Why shouldn't he dream of it?" + +"In the first place--. Well! I did think, Fred, that you yourself seemed +to be,--seemed to be taken with Miss Mellerby." + +"Who? I? Oh, dear no. She's a very nice girl and all that, and I like +her amazingly. If she were Jack's wife, I never saw a girl I should so +much like for a sister." + +"It is quite out of the question. I wonder that you can speak in such a +way. What right can your brother have to think of such a girl as Miss +Mellerby? He has no position;--no means." + +"He is my brother," said Fred, with a little touch of anger,--already +discounting his future earldom on his brother's behalf. + +"Yes;--he is your brother; but you don't suppose that Mr. Mellerby would +give his daughter to an officer in the Engineers who has, as far as I +know, no private means whatever." + +"He will have,--when my mother dies. Of course I can't speak of doing +anything for anybody at present. I may die before my uncle. Nothing is +more likely. But then, if I do, Jack would be my uncle's heir." + +"I don't believe there's anything in it at all," said Lady Scroope in +great dudgeon. + +"I dare say not. If there is, they haven't told me. It's not likely they +would. But I thought I saw something coming up, and as it seemed to be +the most natural thing in the world, I mentioned it. As for me,--Miss +Mellerby doesn't care a straw for me. You may be sure of that." + +"She would--if you'd ask her." + +"But I never shall ask her. What's the use of beating about the bush, +aunt? I never shall ask her; and if I did, she wouldn't have me. If you +want to make Sophie Mellerby your niece, Jack's your game." + +Lady Scroope was ineffably disgusted. To be told that "Jack was her +game" was in itself a terrible annoyance to her. But to be so told in +reference to such a subject was painful in the extreme. Of course she +could not make this young man marry as she wished. She had acknowledged +to herself from the first that there could be no cause of anger against +him should he not fall into the silken net which was spread for him. +Lady Scroope was not an unreasonable woman, and understood well the +power which young people have over old people. She knew that she +couldn't quarrel with Fred Neville, even if she would. He was the heir, +and in a very few years would be the owner of everything. In order +to keep him straight, to save him from debts, to protect him from +money-lenders, and to secure the family standing and property till he +should have made things stable by having a wife and heir of his own, all +manner of indulgence must be shown him. She quite understood that such a +horse must be ridden with a very light hand. She must put up with slang +from him, though she would resent it from any other human being. He must +be allowed to smoke in his bed-room, to be late at dinner, to shirk +morning prayers,--making her only too happy if he would not shirk Sunday +church also. Of course he must choose a bride for himself,--only not a +Roman Catholic wild Irish bride of whom nobody knew anything! + +As to that other matter concerning Jack and Sophie Mellerby, she could +not bring herself to believe it. She had certainly seen that they were +good friends,--as would have been quite fit had Fred been engaged to +her; but she had not conceived the possibility of any mistake on such a +subject. Surely Sophie herself knew better what she was about! How would +she,--she, Lady Scroope,--answer it to Lady Sophia, if Sophie should go +back to Mellerby from her house, engaged to a younger brother who had +nothing but a commission in the Engineers? Sophie had been sent to +Scroope on purpose to be fallen in love with by the heir; and how +would it be with Lady Scroope if, in lieu of this, she should not only +have been fallen in love with by the heir's younger brother, but have +responded favourably to so base an affection? + +That same afternoon Fred told his uncle that he was going back to +Ireland on the day but one following, thus curtailing his promised three +weeks by two days. "I am sorry that you are so much hurried, Fred," said +the old man. + +"So am I, my lord,--but Johnstone has to go to London on business, and I +promised when I got leave that I wouldn't throw him over. You see,--when +one has a profession one must attend to it,--more or less." + +"But you hardly need the profession." + +"Thank you, uncle;--it is very kind of you to say so. And as you wish me +to leave it, I will when the year is over. I have told the fellows that +I shall stay till next October, and I shouldn't like to change now." The +Earl hadn't another word to say. + +But on the day before Fred's departure there came a short note from Lady +Mary Quin which made poor Lady Scroope more unhappy than ever. Tidings +had reached her in a mysterious way that the O'Haras were eagerly +expecting the return of Mr. Neville. Lady Mary thought that if Mr. +Neville's quarters could be moved from Ennis, it would be very expedient +for many reasons. She knew that enquiries had been made for him and that +he was engaged to dine on a certain day with Father Marty the priest. +Father Marty would no doubt go any lengths to serve his friends the +O'Haras. Then Lady Mary was very anxious that not a word should be said +to Mr. Neville which might lead him to suppose that reports respecting +him were being sent from Quin Castle to Scroope. + +The Countess in her agony thought it best to tell the whole story to the +Earl. "But what can I do?" said the old man. "Young men will form these +acquaintances." His fears were evidently as yet less dark than those of +his wife. + +"It would be very bad if we were to hear that he was married to a girl +of whom we only know that she is a Roman Catholic and friendless." + +The Earl's brow became very black. "I don't think that he would treat me +in that way." + +"Not meaning it, perhaps;--but if he should become entangled and make a +promise!" + +Then the Earl did speak to his nephew. "Fred," he said, "I have been +thinking a great deal about you. I have little else to think of now. I +should take it as a mark of affection from you if you would give up the +army--at once." + +"And not join my regiment again at all?" + +"It is absurd that you should do so in your present position. You should +be here, and learn the circumstances of the property before it becomes +your own. There can hardly be more than a year or two left for the +lesson." + +The Earl's manner was very impressive. He looked into his nephew's face +as he spoke, and stood with his hand upon the young man's shoulder. +But Fred Neville was a Neville all over,--and the Nevilles had always +chosen to have their own way. He had not the power of intellect nor +the finished manliness which his brother possessed; but he could be as +obstinate as any Neville,--as obstinate as his father had been, or his +uncle. And in this matter he had arguments which his uncle could hardly +answer on the spur of the moment. No doubt he could sell out in proper +course, but at the present moment he was as much bound by military +law to return as would be any common soldier at the expiration of his +furlough. He must go back. That at any rate was certain. And if his +uncle did not much mind it, he would prefer to remain with his regiment +till October. + +Lord Scroope could not condescend to repeat his request, or even again +to allude to it. His whole manner altered as he took his hand away from +his nephew's shoulder. But still he was determined that there should +be no quarrel. As yet there was no ground for quarrelling,--and by any +quarrel the injury to him would be much greater than any that could +befall the heir. He stood for a moment and then he spoke again in a tone +very different from that he had used before. "I hope," he said,--and +then he paused again; "I hope you know how very much depends on your +marrying in a manner suitable to your position." + +"Quite so;--I think." + +"It is the one hope left to me to see you properly settled in life." + +"Marriage is a very serious thing, uncle. Suppose I were not to marry at +all! Sometimes I think my brother is much more like marrying than I am." + +"You are bound to marry," said the Earl solemnly. "And you are specially +bound by every duty to God and man to make no marriage that will be +disgraceful to the position which you are called upon to fill." + +"At any rate I will not do that," said Fred Neville proudly. From this +the Earl took some comfort, and then the interview was over. + +On the day appointed by himself Fred left the Manor, and his mother +and brother went on the following day. But after he was gone, on that +same afternoon, Jack Neville asked Sophie Mellerby to be his wife. She +refused him,--with all the courtesy she knew how to use, but also with +all the certainty. And as soon as he had left the house she told Lady +Scroope what had happened. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +ARDKILL COTTAGE. + + +The cliffs of Moher in Co. Clare, on the western coast of Ireland, are +not as well known to tourists as they should be. It may be doubted +whether Lady Mary Quin was right when she called them the highest cliffs +in the world, but they are undoubtedly very respectable cliffs, and run +up some six hundred feet from the sea as nearly perpendicular as cliffs +should be. They are beautifully coloured, streaked with yellow veins, +and with great masses of dark red rock; and beneath them lies the broad +and blue Atlantic. Lady Mary's exaggeration as to the comparative +height is here acknowledged, but had she said that below them rolls +the brightest bluest clearest water in the world she would not have +been far wrong. To the south of these cliffs there runs inland a broad +bay,--Liscannor bay, on the sides of which are two little villages, +Liscannor and Lahinch. At the latter, Fred Neville, since he had been +quartered at Ennis, had kept a boat for the sake of shooting seals +and exploring the coast,--and generally carrying out his spirit of +adventure. Not far from Liscannor was Castle Quin, the seat of the Earl +of Kilfenora; and some way up from Liscannor towards the cliffs, about +two miles from the village, there is a cottage called Ardkill. Here +lived Mrs. and Miss O'Hara. + +It was the nearest house to the rocks, from which it was distant less +than half a mile. The cottage, so called, was a low rambling long house, +but one storey high,--very unlike an English cottage. It stood in two +narrow lengths, the one running at right angles to the other; and +contained a large kitchen, two sitting rooms,--of which one was never +used,--and four or five bed-rooms of which only three were furnished. +The servant girl occupied one, and the two ladies the others. It was a +blank place enough,--and most unlike that sort of cottage which English +ladies are supposed to inhabit, when they take to cottage life. There +was no garden to it, beyond a small patch in which a few potatoes were +planted. It was so near to the ocean, so exposed to winds from the +Atlantic, that no shrubs would live there. Everything round it, even the +herbage, was impregnated with salt, and told tales of the neighbouring +waves. When the wind was from the west the air would be so laden with +spray that one could not walk there without being wet. And yet the place +was very healthy, and noted for the fineness of its air. Rising from the +cottage, which itself stood high, was a steep hill running up to the top +of the cliff, covered with that peculiar moss which the salt spray of +the ocean produces. On this side the land was altogether open, but a +few sheep were always grazing there when the wind was not so high as to +drive them to some shelter. Behind the cottage there was an enclosed +paddock which belonged to it, and in which Mrs. O'Hara kept her cow. +Roaming free around the house, and sometimes in it, were a dozen hens +and a noisy old cock which, with the cow, made up the total of the +widow's live stock. About a half a mile from the cottage on the way +to Liscannor there were half a dozen mud cabins which contained Mrs. +O'Hara's nearest neighbours,--and an old burying ground. Half a mile +further on again was the priest's house, and then on to Liscannor there +were a few other straggling cabins here and there along the road. + +Up to the cottage indeed there could hardly be said to be more than a +track, and beyond the cottage no more than a sheep path. The road coming +out from Liscannor was a real road as far as the burying ground, but +from thence onward it had degenerated. A car, or carriage if needed, +might be brought up to the cottage door, for the ground was hard and the +way was open. But no wheels ever travelled there now. The priest, when +he would come, came on horseback, and there was a shed in which he could +tie up his nag. He himself from time to time would send up a truss of +hay for his nag's use, and would think himself cruelly used because the +cow would find her way in and eat it. No other horse ever called at the +widow's door. What slender stores were needed for her use, were all +brought on the girls' backs from Liscannor. To the north of the cottage, +along the cliff, there was no road for miles, nor was there house or +habitation. Castle Quin, in which the noble but somewhat impoverished +Quin family lived nearly throughout the year, was distant, inland, about +three miles from the cottage. Lady Mary had said in her letter to her +friend that Mrs. O'Hara was a lady;--and as Mrs. O'Hara had no other +neighbour, ranking with herself in that respect, so near her, and none +other but the Protestant clergyman's wife within six miles of her, +charity, one would have thought, might have induced some of the Quin +family to notice her. But the Quins were Protestant, and Mrs. O'Hara was +not only a Roman Catholic, but a Roman Catholic who had been brought +into the parish by the priest. No evil certainly was known of her, but +then nothing was known of her; and the Quins were a very cautious people +where religion was called in question. In the days of the famine Father +Marty and the Earl and the Protestant vicar had worked together in the +good cause;--but those days were now gone by, and the strange intimacy +had soon died away. The Earl when he met the priest would bow to him, +and the two clergymen would bow to each other;--but beyond such dumb +salutation there was no intercourse between them. It had been held +therefore to be impossible to take any notice of the priest's friends. + +And what notice could have been taken of two ladies who came from nobody +knew where, to live in that wild out-of-the-way place, nobody knew why? +They called themselves mother and daughter, and they called themselves +O'Haras;--but there was no evidence of the truth even of these +assertions. They were left therefore in their solitude, and never saw +the face of a friend across their door step except that of Father Marty. + +In truth Mrs. O'Hara's life had been of a nature almost to necessitate +such solitude. With her story we have nothing to do here. For our +purpose there is no need that her tale should be told. Suffice it to say +that she had been deserted by her husband, and did not now know whether +she was or was not a widow. This was in truth the only mystery attached +to her. She herself was an Englishwoman, though a Catholic; but she had +been left early an orphan, and had been brought up in a provincial town +of France by her grandmother. There she had married a certain Captain +O'Hara, she having some small means of her own sufficient to make her +valuable in the eyes of an adventurer. At that time she was no more +than eighteen, and had given her hand to the Captain in opposition to +the wishes of her only guardian. What had been her life from that time +to the period at which, under Father Marty's auspices, she became the +inhabitant of Ardkill Cottage, no one knew but herself. She was then +utterly dissevered from all friends and relatives, and appeared on the +western coast of County Clare with her daughter, a perfect stranger to +every one. Father Marty was an old man, now nearly seventy, and had been +educated in France. There he had known Mrs. O'Hara's grandmother, and +hence had arisen the friendship which had induced him to bring the lady +into his parish. She came there with a daughter, then hardly more than a +child. Between two and three years had passed since her coming, and the +child was now a grown-up girl, nearly nineteen years old. Of her means +little or nothing was known accurately, even to the priest. She had told +him that she had saved enough out of the wreck on which to live with her +girl after some very humble fashion, and she paid her way. There must +have come some sudden crash, or she would hardly have taken her child +from an expensive Parisian school to vegetate in such solitude as that +she had chosen. And it was a solitude from which there seemed to be no +chance of future escape. They had brought with them a piano and a few +books, mostly French;--and with these it seemed to have been intended +that the two ladies should make their future lives endurable. Other +resources except such as the scenery of the cliffs afforded them, they +had none. + +The author would wish to impress upon his readers, if it may be +possible, some idea of the outward appearance and personal character of +each of these two ladies, as his story can hardly be told successfully +unless he do so. The elder, who was at this time still under forty +years of age, would have been a very handsome woman had not troubles, +suffering, and the contests of a rugged life, in which she had both +endured and dared much, given to her face a look of hard combative +resolution which was not feminine. She was rather below than above the +average height,--or at any rate looked to be so, as she was strongly +made, with broad shoulders, and a waist that was perhaps not now as +slender as when she first met Captain O'Hara. But her hair was still +black,--as dark at least as hair can be which is not in truth black at +all but only darkly brown. Whatever might be its colour there was no +tinge of grey upon it. It was glossy, silken, and long as when she was a +girl. I do not think that she took pride in it. How could she take pride +in personal beauty, when she was never seen by any man younger than +Father Marty or the old peasant who brought turf to her door in creels +on a donkey's back? But she wore it always without any cap, tied in a +simple knot behind her head. Whether chignons had been invented then the +author does not remember,--but they certainly had not become common on +the coast of County Clare, and the peasants about Liscannor thought Mrs. +O'Hara's head of hair the finest they had ever seen. Had the ladies Quin +of the Castle possessed such hair as that, they would not have been +the ladies Quin to this day. Her eyes were lustrous, dark, and very +large,--beautiful eyes certainly; but they were eyes that you might +fear. They had been softer perhaps in youth, before the spirit of the +tiger had been roused in the woman's bosom by neglect and ill-usage. Her +face was now bronzed by years and weather. Of her complexion she took no +more care than did the neighbouring fishermen of theirs, and the winds +and the salt water, and perhaps the working of her own mind, had told +upon it, to make it rough and dark. But yet there was a colour in her +cheeks, as we often see in those of wandering gipsies, which would make +a man stop to regard her who had eyes appreciative of beauty. Her nose +was well formed,--a heaven-made nose, and not a lump of flesh stuck on +to the middle of her face as women's noses sometimes are;--but it was +somewhat short and broad at the nostrils, a nose that could imply much +anger, and perhaps tenderness also. Her face below her nose was very +short. Her mouth was large, but laden with expression. Her lips were +full and her teeth perfect as pearls. Her chin was short and perhaps now +verging to that size which we call a double chin, and marked by as broad +a dimple as ever Venus made with her finger on the face of a woman. + +She had ever been strong and active, and years in that retreat had told +upon her not at all. She would still walk to Liscannor, and thence +round, when the tide was low, beneath the cliffs, and up by a path which +the boys had made from the foot through the rocks to the summit, though +the distance was over ten miles, and the ascent was very steep. She +would remain for hours on the rocks, looking down upon the sea, when +the weather was almost at its roughest. When the winds were still, and +the sun was setting across the ocean, and the tame waves were only just +audible as they rippled on the stones below, she would sit there with +her child, holding the girl's hand or just touching her arm, and would +be content so to stay almost without a word; but when the winds blew, +and the heavy spray came up in blinding volumes, and the white-headed +sea-monsters were roaring in their fury against the rocks, she would be +there alone with her hat in her hand, and her hair drenched. She would +watch the gulls wheeling and floating beneath her, and would listen to +their screams and try to read their voices. She would envy the birds as +they seemed to be worked into madness by the winds which still were not +strong enough to drive them from their purposes. To linger there among +the rocks seemed to be the only delight left to her in life,--except +that intense delight which a mother has in loving her child. She herself +read but little, and never put a hand upon the piano. But she had a +faculty of sitting and thinking, of brooding over her own past years and +dreaming of her daughter's future life, which never deserted her. With +her the days were doubtless very sad, but it cannot truly be said that +they were dull or tedious. + +And there was a sparkle of humour about her too, which would sometimes +shine the brightest when there was no one by her to appreciate it. Her +daughter would smile at her mother's sallies,--but she did so simply +in kindness. Kate did not share her mother's sense of humour,--did not +share it as yet. With the young the love of fun is gratified generally +by grotesque movement. It is not till years are running on that the +grotesqueness of words and ideas is appreciated. But Mrs. O'Hara would +expend her art on the household drudge, or on old Barney Corcoran who +came with the turf,--though by neither of them was she very clearly +understood. Now and again she would have a war of words with the +priest, and that, I think, she liked. She was intensely combative, if +ground for a combat arose; and would fight on any subject with any +human being--except her daughter. And yet with the priest she never +quarrelled; and though she was rarely beaten in her contests with him, +she submitted to him in much. In matters touching her religion she +submitted to him altogether. + +Kate O'Hara was in face very like her mother;--strangely like, for in +much she was very different. But she had her mother's eyes,--though hers +were much softer in their lustre, as became her youth,--and she had her +mother's nose, but without that look of scorn which would come upon her +mother's face when the nostrils were inflated. And in that peculiar +shortness of the lower face she was the very echo of her mother. But the +mouth was smaller, the lips less full, and the dimple less exaggerated. +It was a fairer face to look upon,--fairer, perhaps, than her mother's +had ever been; but it was less expressive, and in it there was +infinitely less capability for anger, and perhaps less capability for +the agonising extremes of tenderness. But Kate was taller than her +mother, and seemed by her mother's side to be slender. Nevertheless she +was strong and healthy; and though she did not willingly join in those +longer walks, or expose herself to the weather as did her mother, there +was nothing feeble about her, nor was she averse to action. Life at +Ardkill Cottage was dull, and therefore she also was dull. Had she been +surrounded by friends, such as she had known in her halcyon school days +at Paris, she would have been the gayest of the gay. + +Her hair was dark as her mother's,--even darker. Seen by the side of +Miss O'Hara's, the mother's hair was certainly not black, but one could +hardly think that hair could be blacker than the daughter's. But hers +fell in curling clusters round her neck,--such clusters as now one never +sees. She would shake them in sport, and the room would seem to be full +of her locks. But she used to say herself to her mother that there was +already to be found a grey hair among them now and again, and she would +at times shew one, declaring that she would be an old woman before her +mother was middle-aged. + +Her life at Ardkill Cottage was certainly very dull. Memory did but +little for her, and she hardly knew how to hope. She would read, till +she had nearly learned all their books by heart, and would play such +tunes as she knew by the hour together, till the poor instrument, +subject to the sea air and away from any tuner's skill, was discordant +with its limp strings. But still, with all this, her mind would become +vacant and weary. "Mother," she would say, "is it always to be like +this?" + +"Not always, Kate," the mother once answered. + +"And when will it be changed?" + +"In a few days,--in a few hours, Kate." + +"What do you mean, mother?" + +"That eternity is coming, with all its glory and happiness. If it were +not so, it would, indeed, be very bad." + +It may be doubted whether any human mind has been able to content itself +with hopes of eternity, till distress in some shape has embittered life. +The preachers preach very well,--well enough to leave many convictions +on the minds of men; but not well enough to leave that conviction. And +godly men live well,--but we never see them living as though such were +their conviction. And were it so, who would strive and moil in this +world? When the heart has been broken, and the spirit ground to the +dust by misery, then,--such is God's mercy--eternity suffices to make +life bearable. When Mrs. O'Hara spoke to her daughter of eternity, +there was but cold comfort in the word. The girl wanted something +here,--pleasures, companions, work, perhaps a lover. This had happened +before Lieutenant Neville of the 20th Hussars had been seen in those +parts. + +And the mother herself, in speaking as she had spoken, had, perhaps +unintentionally, indulged in a sarcasm on life which the daughter +certainly had not been intended to understand. "Yes;--it will always be +like this for you, for you, unfortunate one that you are. There is no +other further look-out in this life. You are one of the wretched to whom +the world offers nothing; and therefore,--as, being human, you must +hope,--build your hopes on eternity." Had the words been read clearly, +that would have been their true meaning. What could she do for her +child? Bread and meat, with a roof over her head, and raiment which +sufficed for life such as theirs, she could supply. The life would have +been well enough had it been their fate, and within their power, to earn +the bread and meat, the shelter and the raiment. But to have it, and +without work,--to have that, and nothing more, in absolute idleness, was +such misery that there was no resource left but eternity! + +And yet the mother when she looked at her daughter almost persuaded +herself that it need not be so. The girl was very lovely,--so lovely +that, were she but seen, men would quarrel for her as to who should have +her in his keeping. Such beauty, such life, such capability for giving +and receiving enjoyment could not have been intended to wither on a lone +cliff over the Atlantic! There must be fault somewhere. But yet to live +had been the first necessity; and life in cities, among the haunts of +men, had been impossible with such means as this woman possessed. When +she had called her daughter to her, and had sought peace under the roof +which her friend the priest had found for her, peace and a roof to +shelter her had been the extent of her desires. To be at rest, and +independent, with her child within her arms, had been all that the woman +asked of the gods. For herself it sufficed. For herself she was able to +acknowledge that the rest which she had at least obtained was infinitely +preferable to the unrest of her past life. But she soon learned,--as she +had not expected to learn before she made the experiment,--that that +which was to her peace, was to her daughter life within a tomb. "Mother, +is it always to be like this?" + +Had her child not carried the weight of good blood, had some small +grocer or country farmer been her father, she might have come down to +the neighbouring town of Ennistimon, and found a fitting mate there. +Would it not have been better so? From that weight of good blood,--or +gift, if it please us to call it,--what advantage would ever come to her +girl? It can not really be that all those who swarm in the world below +the bar of gentlehood are less blessed, or intended to be less blessed, +than the few who float in the higher air. As to real blessedness, does +it not come from fitness to the outer life and a sense of duty that +shall produce such fitness? Does any one believe that the Countess has a +greater share of happiness than the grocer's wife, or is less subject to +the miseries which flesh inherits? But such matters cannot be changed +by the will. This woman could not bid her daughter go and meet the +butcher's son on equal terms, or seek her friends among the milliners of +the neighbouring town. The burden had been imposed and must be borne, +even though it isolated them from all the world. + +"Mother, is it always to be like this?" Of course the mother knew what +was needed. It was needed that the girl should go out into the world and +pair, that she should find some shoulder on which she might lean, some +arm that would be strong to surround her, the heart of some man and the +work of some man to which she might devote herself. The girl, when she +asked her question, did not know this,--but the mother knew it. The +mother looked at her child and said that of all living creatures her +child was surely the loveliest. Was it not fit that she should go forth +and be loved;--that she should at any rate go forth and take her chance +with others? But how should such going forth be managed? And then,--were +there not dangers, terrible dangers,--dangers specially terrible to one +so friendless as her child? Had not she herself been wrecked among the +rocks, trusting herself to one who had been utterly unworthy,--loving +one who had been utterly unlovely? Men so often are as ravenous wolves, +merciless, rapacious, without hearts, full of greed, full of lust, +looking on female beauty as prey, regarding the love of woman and her +very life as a toy! Were she higher in the world there might be safety. +Were she lower there might be safety. But how could she send her girl +forth into the world without sending her certainly among the wolves? And +yet that piteous question was always sounding in her ears. "Mother, is +it always to be like this?" + +Then Lieutenant Neville had appeared upon the scene, dressed in a +sailor's jacket and trowsers, with a sailor's cap upon his head, with +a loose handkerchief round his neck and his hair blowing to the wind. +In the eyes of Kate O'Hara he was an Apollo. In the eyes of any girl he +must have seemed to be as good-looking a fellow as ever tied a sailor's +knot. He had made acquaintance with Father Marty at Liscannor, and the +priest had dined with him at Ennis. There had been a return visit, and +the priest, perhaps innocently, had taken him up on the cliffs. There he +had met the two ladies, and our hero had been introduced to Kate O'Hara. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +I'LL GO BAIL SHE LIKES IT. + + +It might be that the young man was a ravenous wolf, but his manners were +not wolfish. Had Mrs. O'Hara been a princess, supreme in her own rights, +young Neville could not have treated her or her daughter with more +respect. At first Kate had wondered at him, but had said but little. She +had listened to him, as he talked to her mother and the priest about the +cliffs and the birds and the seals he had shot, and she had felt that +it was this, something like this, that was needed to make life so sweet +that as yet there need be no longing, no thought, for eternity. It was +not that all at once she loved him, but she felt that he was a thing to +love. His very appearance on the cliff, and the power of thinking of him +when he was gone, for a while banished all tedium from her life. "Why +should you shoot the poor gulls?" That was the first question she asked +him; and she asked it hardly in tenderness to the birds, but because +with the unconscious cunning of her sex she understood that tenderness +in a woman is a charm in the eyes of a man. + +"Only because it is so difficult to get at them," said Fred. "I believe +there is no other reason,--except that one must shoot something." + +"But why must you?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"To justify one's guns. A man takes to shooting as a matter of course. +It's a kind of institution. There ain't any tigers, and so we shoot +birds. And in this part of the world there ain't any pheasants, and so +we shoot sea-gulls." + +"Excellently argued," said the priest. + +"Or rather one don't, for it's impossible to get at them. But I'll tell +you what, Father Marty,"--Neville had already assumed the fashion of +calling the priest by his familiar priestly name, as strangers do much +more readily than they who belong to the country,--"I'll tell you what, +Father Marty,--I've shot one of the finest seals I ever saw, and if +Morony can get him at low water, I'll send the skin up to Mrs. O'Hara." + +"And send the oil to me," said the priest. "There's some use in shooting +a seal. But you can do nothing with those birds,--unless you get enough +of their feathers to make a bed." + +This was in October, and before the end of November Fred Neville was, +after a fashion, intimate at the cottage. He had never broken bread at +Mrs. O'Hara's table; nor, to tell the truth, had any outspoken, clearly +intelligible word of love been uttered by him to the girl. But he had +been seen with them often enough, and the story had become sufficiently +current at Liscannor to make Lady Mary Quin think that she was justified +in sending her bad news to her friend Lady Scroope. This she did not do +till Fred had been induced, with some difficulty, to pass a night at +Castle Quin. Lady Mary had not scrupled to ask a question about Miss +O'Hara, and had thought the answer very unsatisfactory. "I don't know +what makes them live there, I'm sure. I should have thought you would +have known that," replied Neville, in answer to her question. + +"They are perfect mysteries to us," said Lady Mary. + +"I think that Miss O'Hara is the prettiest girl I ever saw in my life," +said Fred boldly, "and I should say the handsomest woman, if it were not +that there may be a question between her and her mother." + +"You are enthusiastic," said Lady Mary Quin, and after that the letter +to Scroope was written. + +In the meantime the seal-skin was cured,--not perhaps in the very best +fashion, and was sent up to Miss O'Hara, with Mr. Neville's compliments. +The skin of a seal that has been shot by the man and not purchased is a +present that any lady may receive from any gentleman. The most prudent +mamma that ever watched over her dovecote with Argus eyes, permitting no +touch of gallantry to come near it, could hardly insist that a seal-skin +in the rough should be sent back to the donor. Mrs. O'Hara was by no +means that most prudent mamma, and made, not only the seal-skin, but the +donor also welcome. Must it not be that by some chance advent such as +this that the change must be effected in her girl's life, should any +change ever be made? And her girl was good. Why should she fear for her? +The man had been brought there by her only friend, the priest, and why +should she fear him? And yet she did fear; and though her face was +never clouded when her girl spoke of the new comer, though she always +mentioned Captain Neville's name as though she herself liked the man, +though she even was gracious to him when he shewed himself near the +cottage,--still there was a deep dread upon her when her eyes rested +upon him, when her thoughts flew to him. Men are wolves to women, and +utterly merciless when feeding high their lust. 'Twas thus her own +thoughts shaped themselves, though she never uttered a syllable to her +daughter in disparagement of the man. This was the girl's chance. Was +she to rob her of it? And yet, of all her duties, was not the duty of +protecting her girl the highest and the dearest that she owned? If the +man meant well by her girl, she would wash his feet with her hair, kiss +the hem of his garments, and love the spot on which she had first seen +him stand like a young sea-god. But if evil,--if he meant evil to her +girl, if he should do evil to her Kate,--then she knew that there was +so much of the tiger within her bosom as would serve to rend him limb +from limb. With such thoughts as these she had hardly ever left them +together. Nor had such leaving together seemed to be desired by them. +As for Kate she certainly would have shunned it. She thought of Fred +Neville during all her waking moments, and dreamed of him at night. His +coming had certainly been to her as the coming of a god. Though he did +not appear on the cliffs above once or twice a week, and had done so but +for a few weeks, his presence had altered the whole tenour of her life. +She never asked her mother now whether it was to be always like this. +There was a freshness about her life which her mother understood at +once. She was full of play, reading less than was her wont, but still +with no sense of tedium. Of the man in his absence she spoke but seldom, +and when his name was on her lips she would jest with it,--as though the +coming of a young embryo lord to shoot gulls on their coast was quite a +joke. The seal-skin which he had given her was very dear to her, and she +was at no pains to hide her liking; but of the man as a lover she had +never seemed to think. + +Nor did she think of him as a lover. It is not by such thinking that +love grows. Nor did she ever tell herself that while he was there, +coming on one day and telling them that his boat would be again there on +another, life was blessed to her, and that, therefore, when he should +have left them, her life would be accursed to her. She knew nothing of +all this. But yet she thought of him, and dreamed of him, and her young +head was full of little plans with every one of which he was connected. + +And it may almost be said that Fred Neville was as innocent in the +matter as was the girl. It is true, indeed, that men are merciless as +wolves to women,--that they become so, taught by circumstances and +trained by years; but the young man who begins by meaning to be a wolf +must be bad indeed. Fred Neville had no such meaning. On his behalf it +must be acknowledged that he had no meaning whatever when he came again +and again to Ardkill. Had he examined himself in the matter he would +have declared that he liked the mother quite as well as the daughter. +When Lady Mary Quin had thrown at him her very blunt arrow he had +defended himself on that plea. Accident, and the spirit of adventure, +had thrust these ladies in his path, and no doubt he liked them the +better because they did not live as other people lived. Their solitude, +the close vicinity of the ocean, the feeling that in meeting them none +of the ordinary conventional usages of society were needed, the wildness +and the strangeness of the scene, all had charms which he admitted to +himself. And he knew that the girl was very lovely. Of course he said +so to himself and to others. To take delight in beauty is assumed to be +the nature of a young man, and this young man was not one to wish to +differ from others in that respect. But when he went back to spend his +Christmas at Scroope, he had never told even himself that he intended to +be her lover. + +"Good-bye, Mrs. O'Hara," he said, a day or two before he left Ennis. + +"So you're going?" + +"Oh yes, I'm off. The orders from home are imperative. One has to cut +one's lump of Christmas beef and also one's lump of Christmas pudding. +It is our family religion, you know." + +"What a happiness to have a family to visit!" + +"It's all very well, I suppose. I don't grumble. Only it's a bore going +away, somehow." + +"You are coming back to Ennis?" asked Kate. + +"Coming back;--I should think so. Barney Morony wouldn't be quite +so quiet if I was not coming back. I'm to dine with Father Marty at +Liscannor on the 15th of January, to meet another priest from Milltown +Malbay,--the best fellow in the world he says." + +"That's Father Creech;--not half such a good fellow, Mr. Neville, as +Father Marty himself." + +"He couldn't be better. However, I shall be here then, and if I have any +luck you shall have another skin of the same size by that time." Then he +shook hands with them both, and there was a feeling that the time would +be blank till he should be again there in his sailor's jacket. + +When the second week in January had come Mrs. O'Hara heard that the +gallant young officer of the 20th was back in Ennis, and she well +remembered that he had told her of his intention to dine with the +priest. On the Sunday she saw Mr. Marty after mass, and managed to have +a few words with him on the road while Kate returned to the cottage +alone. "So your friend Mr. Neville has come back to Ennis," she said. + +"I didn't know that he had come. He promised to dine with me on +Thursday,--only I think nothing of promises from these young fellows." + +"He told me he was to be with you." + +"More power to him. He'll be welcome. I'm getting to be a very ould man, +Misthress O'Hara; but I'm not so ould but I like to have the young ones +near me." + +"It is pleasant to see a bright face like his." + +"That's thrue for you, Misthress O'Hara. I like to see 'em bright and +ganial. I don't know that I ever shot so much as a sparrow, meself, but +I love to hear them talk of their shootings, and huntings, and the like +of that. I've taken a fancy to that boy, and he might do pretty much as +he plazes wid me." + +"And I too have taken a fancy to him, Father Marty." + +"Shure and how could you help it?" + +"But he mustn't do as he pleases with me." Father Marty looked up into +her face as though he did not understand her. "If I were alone, as you +are, I could afford, like you, to indulge in the pleasure of a bright +face. Only in that case he would not care to let me see it." + +"Bedad thin, Misthress O'Hara, I don't know a fairer face to look on in +all Corcomroe than your own,--that is when you're not in your tantrums, +Misthress O'Hara." The priest was a privileged person, and could say +what he liked to his friend; and she understood that a priest might say +without fault what would be very faulty if it came from any one else. + +"I'm in earnest now, Father Marty. What shall we do if our darling Kate +thinks of this young man more than is good for her?" Father Marty raised +his hat and began to scratch his head. "If you like to look at the fair +face of a handsome lad--" + +"I do thin, Misthress O'Hara." + +"Must not she like it also?" + +"I'll go bail she likes it," said the priest. + +"And what will come next?" + +"I'll tell you what it is, Misthress O'Hara. Would you want to keep her +from even seeing a man at all?" + +"God forbid." + +"It's not the way to make them happy, nor yet safe. If it's to be +that way wid her, she'd better be a nun all out; and I'd be far from +proposing that to your Kate." + +"She is hardly fit for so holy a life." + +"And why should she? I niver like seeing too many of 'em going that way, +and them that are prittiest are the last I'd send there. But if not +a nun, it stands to reason she must take chance with the rest of 'em. +She's been too much shut up already. Let her keep her heart till he asks +her for it; but if he does ask her, why shouldn't she be his wife? How +many of them young officers take Irish wives home with 'em every year. +Only for them, our beauties wouldn't have a chance." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +FATHER MARTY'S HOSPITALITY. + + +Such was the philosophy, or, perhaps, it may be better said such was the +humanity of Father Marty! But in encouraging Mrs. O'Hara to receive this +dangerous visitor he had by no means spoken without consideration. In +one respect we must abandon Father Marty to the judgment and censure +of fathers and mothers. The whole matter looked at from Lady Scroope's +point of view was no doubt very injurious to the priest's character. He +regarded a stranger among them, such as was Fred Neville, as fair spoil, +as a Philistine to seize whom and capture him for life on behalf of any +Irish girl would be a great triumph;--a spoiling of the Egyptian to +the accomplishment of which he would not hesitate to lend his priestly +assistance, the end to be accomplished, of course, being marriage. For +Lord Scroope and his family and his blood and his religious fanaticism +he could entertain no compassion whatever. Father Marty was no great +politician, and desired no rebellion against England. Even in the days +of O'Connell and repeal he had been but luke-warm. But justice for +Ireland in the guise of wealthy English husbands for pretty Irish +girls he desired with all his heart. He was true to his own faith, to +the backbone, but he entertained no prejudice against a good looking +Protestant youth when a fortunate marriage was in question. So little +had been given to the Irish in these days, that they were bound to take +what they could get. Lord Scroope and the Countess, had they known +the priest's views on this matter, would have regarded him as an +unscrupulous intriguing ruffian, prepared to destroy the happiness of a +noble family by a wicked scheme. But his views of life, as judged from +the other side, admitted of some excuse. As for a girl breaking her +heart, he did not, perhaps, much believe in such a catastrophe. Of a +sore heart a girl must run the chance,--as also must a man. That young +men do go about promising marriage and not keeping their promise, he +knew well. None could know that better than he did, for he was the +repository of half the love secrets in his parish. But all that was +part of the evil coming from the fall of Adam, and must be endured +till,--till the Pope should have his own again, and be able to set all +things right. In the meantime young women must do the best they could +to keep their lovers;--and should one lover break away, then must the +deserted one use her experience towards getting a second. But how was a +girl to have a lover at all, if she were never allowed to see a man? He +had been bred a priest from his youth upwards, and knew nothing of love; +but nevertheless it was a pain to him to see a young girl, good-looking, +healthy, fit to be the mother of children, pine away, unsought for, +uncoupled,--as it would be a pain to see a fruit grow ripe upon the +tree, and then fall and perish for the want of plucking. His philosophy +was perhaps at fault, and it may be that his humanity was unrefined. But +he was human to the core,--and, at any rate, unselfish. That there might +be another danger was a fact that he looked full in the face. But what +victory can be won without danger? And he thought that he knew this +girl, who three times a year would open her whole heart to him in +confession. He was sure that she was not only innocent, but good. And +of the man, too, he was prone to believe good;--though who on such a +question ever trusts a man's goodness? There might be danger and there +must be discretion; but surely it would not be wise, because evil +was possible, that such a one as Kate O'Hara should be kept from all +that intercourse without which a woman is only half a woman! He had +considered it all, though the reader may perhaps think that as a +minister of the gospel he had come to a strange conclusion. He himself, +in his own defence, would have said that having served many years in the +ministry he had learned to know the nature of men and women. + +Mrs. O'Hara said not a word to Kate of the doctrines which the priest +had preached, but she found herself encouraged to mention their new +friend's name to the girl. During Fred's absence hardly a word had +been spoken concerning him in the cottage. Mrs. O'Hara had feared the +subject, and Kate had thought of him much too often to allow his name to +be on her tongue. But now as they sat after dinner over their peat fire +the mother began the subject. "Mr. Neville is to dine with Father Marty +on Thursday." + +"Is he, mother?" + +"Barney Morony was telling me that he was back at Ennis. Barney had to +go in and see him about the boat." + +"He won't go boating such weather as this, mother?" + +"It seems that he means it. The winds are not so high now as they were +in October, and the men understand well when the sea will be high." + +"It is frightful to think of anybody being in one of those little boats +now." Kate ever since she had lived in these parts had seen the canoes +from Liscannor and Lahinch about in the bay, summer and winter, and had +never found anything dreadful in it before. + +"I suppose he'll come up here again," said the mother; but to this Kate +made no answer. "He is to sleep at Father Marty's I fancy, and he can +hardly do that without paying us a visit." + +"The days are short and he'll want all his time for the boating," said +Kate with a little pout. + +"He'll find half-an-hour, I don't doubt. Shall you be glad to see him, +Kate?" + +"I don't know, mother. One is glad almost to see any one up here. It's +as good as a treat when old Corcoran comes up with the turf." + +"But Mr. Neville is not like old Corcoran, Kate." + +"Not in the least, mother. I do like Mr. Neville better than Corcoran, +because you see with Corcoran the excitement is very soon over. And +Corcoran hasn't very much to say for himself." + +"And Mr. Neville has?" + +"He says a great deal more to you than he does to me, mother." + +"I like him very much. I should like him very much indeed if there were +no danger in his coming." + +"What danger?" + +"That he should steal your heart away, my own, my darling, my child." +Then Kate, instead of answering, got up and threw herself at her +mother's knees, and buried her face in her mother's lap, and Mrs. O'Hara +knew that that act of larceny had already been perpetrated. + +And how should it have been otherwise? But of such stealing it is always +better that no mention should be made till the theft has been sanctified +by free gift. Till the loss has been spoken of and acknowledged, it may +in most cases be recovered. Had Neville never returned from Scroope, and +his name never been mentioned by the mother to her daughter, it may be +that Kate O'Hara would not have known that she had loved him. For a +while she would have been sad. For a month or two, as she lay wakeful in +her bed she would have thought of her dreams. But she would have thought +of them as only dreams. She would have been sure that she could have +loved him had any fair ending been possible for such love; but she would +have assured herself that she had been on her guard, and that she was +safe in spite of her dreams. But now the flame in her heart had been +confessed and in some degree sanctioned, and she would foster it rather +than quench it. Even should such a love be capable of no good fortune, +would it not be better to have a few weeks of happy dreaming than a +whole life that should be passionless? What could she do with her own +heart there, living in solitude, with none but the sea gulls to look at +her? Was it not infinitely better that she should give it away to such a +young god as this than let it feed upon itself miserably? Yes, she would +give it away;--but might it not be that the young god would not take the +gift? + +On the third day after his arrival at Ennis, Neville was at Liscannor +with the priest. He little dreamed that the fact of his dining and +sleeping at Father Marty's house would be known to the ladies at Castle +Quin, and communicated from them to his aunt at Scroope Manor. Not that +he would have been deterred from accepting the priest's hospitality or +frightened into accepting that of the noble owner of the castle, had he +known precisely all that would be written about it. He would not have +altered his conduct in a matter in which he considered himself entitled +to regulate it, in obedience to any remonstrances from Scroope Manor. +Objections to the society of a Roman Catholic priest because of his +religion he would have regarded as old-fashioned fanaticism. As for +Earls and their daughters he would no doubt have enough of them in his +future life, and this special Earl and his daughters had not fascinated +him. He had chosen to come to Ireland with his regiment for this year +instead of at once assuming the magnificence of his position in England, +in order that he might indulge the spirit of adventure before he assumed +the duties of life. And it seemed to him that in dining and sleeping at +an Irish priest's house on the shores of the Atlantic, with the prospect +of seal shooting and seeing a very pretty girl on the following morning, +he was indulging that spirit properly. But Lady Mary Quin thought that +he was misbehaving himself and taking to very bad courses. When she +heard that he was to sleep at the priest's house, she was quite sure +that he would visit Mrs. O'Hara on the next day. + +The dinner at the priest's was very jovial. There was a bottle of sherry +and there was a bottle of port, procured, chiefly for the sake of +appearance, from a grocer's shop at Ennistimon;--but the whiskey had +come from Cork and had been in the priest's keeping for the last dozen +years. He good-humouredly acknowledged that the wine was nothing, but +expressed an opinion that Mr. Neville might find it difficult to beat +the "sperrits." "It's thrue for you, Father Marty," said the rival +priest from Milltown Malbay, "and it's you that should know good +sperrits from bad if ony man in Ireland does." + +"'Deed thin," replied the priest of Liscannor, "barring the famine +years, I've mixed two tumblers of punch for meself every day these +forty years, and if it was all together it'd be about enough to give +Mr. Neville a day's sale-shooting on in his canoe." Immediately after +dinner Neville was invited to light his cigar, and everything was easy, +comfortable, and to a certain degree adventurous. There were the two +priests, and a young Mr. Finucane from Ennistimon,--who however was +not quite so much to Fred's taste as the elder men. Mr. Finucane wore +various rings, and talked rather largely about his father's demesne. But +the whole thing was new, and by no means dull. As Neville had not left +Ennis till late in the day,--after what he called a hard day's work in +the warrior line,--they did not sit down till past eight o'clock; nor +did any one talk of moving till past midnight. Fred certainly made for +himself more than two glasses of punch, and he would have sworn that the +priest had done so also. Father Marty, however, was said by those who +knew him best to be very rigid in this matter, and to have the faculty +of making his drink go a long way. Young Mr. Finucane took three or +four,--perhaps five or six,--and then volunteered to join Fred Neville +in a day's shooting under the rocks. But Fred had not been four years +in a cavalry regiment without knowing how to protect himself in such a +difficulty as this. "The canoe will only hold myself and the man," said +Fred, with perfect simplicity. Mr. Finucane drew himself up haughtily +and did not utter another word for the next five minutes. Nevertheless +he took a most affectionate leave of the young officer when half an hour +after midnight he was told by Father Marty that it was time for him to +go home. Father Creech also took his leave, and then Fred and the priest +of Liscannor were left sitting together over the embers of the turf +fire. "You'll be going up to see our friends at Ardkill to-morrow," said +the priest. + +"Likely enough, Father Marty." + +"In course you will. Sorrow a doubt of that." Then the priest paused. + +"And why shouldn't I?" asked Neville. + +"I'm not saying that you shouldn't, Mr. Neville. It wouldn't be civil +nor yet nathural after knowing them as you have done. If you didn't go +they'd be thinking there was a rason for your staying away, and that'd +be worse than all. But, Mr. Neville--" + +"Out with it, Father Marty." Fred knew what was coming fairly well, and +he also had thought a good deal upon the matter. + +"Them two ladies, Mr. Neville, live up there all alone, with sorrow a +human being in the world to protect them,--barring myself." + +"Why should they want protection?" + +"Just because they're lone women, and because one of them is very young +and very beautiful." + +"They are both beautiful," said Neville. + +"'Deed and they are,--both of 'em. The mother can look afther herself, +and after a fashion, too, she can look afther her daughter. I shouldn't +like to be the man to come in her way when he'd once decaived her child. +You're a young man, Mr. Neville." + +"That's my misfortune." + +"And one who stands very high in the world. They tell me you're to be a +great lord some day." + +"Either that or a little one," said Neville, laughing. + +"Anyways you'll be a rich man with a handle to your name. To me, living +here in this out of the way parish, a lord doesn't matter that." And +Father Marty gave a fillip with his fingers. "The only lord that matters +me is me bishop. But with them women yonder, the title and the money and +all the grandeur goes a long way. It has been so since the world began. +In riding a race against you they carry weight from the very awe which +the name of an English Earl brings with it." + +"Why should they ride a race against me?" + +"Why indeed,--unless you ride a race against them! You wouldn't wish to +injure that young thing as isn't yet out of her teens?" + +"God forbid that I should injure her." + +"I don't think that you're the man to do it with your eyes open, Mr. +Neville. If you can't spake her fair in the way of making her your wife, +don't spake her fair at all. That's the long and the short of it, Mr. +Neville. You see what they are. They're ladies, if there is a lady +living in the Queen's dominions. That young thing is as beautiful +as Habe, as innocent as a sleeping child, as soft as wax to take +impression. What armour has she got against such a one as you?" + +"She shall not need armour." + +"If you're a gentleman, Mr. Neville,--as I know you are,--you will not +give her occasion to find out her own wakeness. Well, if it isn't past +one I'm a sinner. It's Friday morning and I mus'n't ate a morsel myself, +poor papist that I am; but I'll get you a bit of cold mate and a drop +of grog in a moment if you'll take it." Neville, however, refused the +hospitable offer. + +"Father Marty," he said, speaking with a zeal which perhaps owed +something of its warmth to the punch, "you shall find that I am a +gentleman." + +"I'm shure of it, my boy." + +"If I can do no good to your friend, at any rate I will do no harm to +her." + +"That is spoken like a Christian, Mr. Neville,--which I take to be a +higher name even than gentleman." + +"There's my hand upon it," said Fred, enthusiastically. After that he +went to bed. + +On the following morning the priest was very jolly at breakfast, and +in speaking of the ladies at Ardkill made no allusion whatever to the +conversation of the previous evening. "Ah no," he said, when Neville +proposed that they should walk up together to the cottage before he +went down to his boat. "What's the good of an ould man like me going +bothering? And, signs on, I'm going into Ennistimon to see Pat O'Leary +about the milk he's sending to our Union. The thief of the world,--it's +wathering it he is before he sends it. Nothing kills me, Mr. Neville, +but when I hear of all them English vices being brought over to this +poor suffering innocent counthry." + +Neville had decided on the advice of Barney Morony, that he would on +this morning go down southward along the coast to Drumdeirg rock, in the +direction away from the Hag's Head and from Mrs. O'Hara's cottage; and +he therefore postponed his expedition till after his visit. When Father +Marty started to Ennistimon to look after that sinner O'Leary, Fred +Neville, all alone, turned the other way to Ardkill. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO GO. + + +Mrs. O'Hara had known that he would come, and Kate had known it; and, +though it would be unfair to say that they were waiting for him, it is +no more than true to say that they were ready for him. "We are so glad +to see you again," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"Not more glad than I am to find myself here once more." + +"So you dined and slept at Father Marty's last night. What will the +grand people say at the Castle?" + +"As I sha'n't hear what they say, it won't matter much! Life is not +long enough, Mrs. O'Hara, for putting up with disagreeable people." + +"Was it pleasant last night?" + +"Very pleasant. I don't think Father Creech is half as good as Father +Marty, you know." + +"Oh no," exclaimed Kate. + +"But he's a jolly sort of fellow, too. And there was a Mr. Finucane +there,--a very grand fellow." + +"We know no one about here but the priests," said Mrs. O'Hara, laughing. +"Anybody might think that the cottage was a little convent." + +"Then I oughtn't to come." + +"Well, no, I suppose not. Only foreigners are admitted to see convents +sometimes. You're going after the poor seals again?" + +"Barney says the tide is too high for the seals now. We're going to +Drumdeirg." + +"What,--to those little rocks?" asked Kate. + +"Yes,--to the rocks. I wish you'd both come with me." + +"I wouldn't go in one of those canoes all out there for the world," said +Kate. + +"What can be the use of it?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"I've got to get the feathers for Father Marty's bed, you know. I +haven't shot as many yet as would make a pillow for a cradle." + +"The poor innocent gulls!" + +"The poor innocent chickens and ducks, if you come to that, Miss +O'Hara." + +"But they're of use." + +"And so will Father Marty's feather bed be of use. Good-bye, Mrs. +O'Hara. Good-bye, Miss O'Hara. I shall be down again next week, and +we'll have that other seal." + +There was nothing in this. So far, at any rate, he had not broken his +word to the priest. He had not spoken a word to Kate O'Hara that might +not and would not have been said had the priest been present. But how +lovely she was; and what a thrill ran through his arm as he held her +hand in his for a moment. Where should he find a girl like that in +England with such colour, such eyes, such hair, such innocence,--and +then with so sweet a voice? + +As he hurried down the hill to the beach at Coolroone, where Morony was +to meet him with the boat, he could not keep himself from comparisons +between Kate O'Hara and Sophie Mellerby. No doubt his comparisons were +made very incorrectly,--and unfairly; but they were all in favour of the +girl who lived out of the world in solitude on the cliffs of Moher. And +why should he not be free to seek a wife where he pleased? In such an +affair as that,--an affair of love in which the heart and the heart +alone should be consulted, what right could any man have to dictate to +him? Certain ideas occurred to him which his friends in England would +have called wild, democratic, revolutionary and damnable, but which, +owing perhaps to the Irish air and the Irish whiskey and the spirit of +adventure fostered by the vicinity of rocks and ocean, appeared to him +at the moment to be not only charming but reasonable also. No doubt he +was born to high state and great rank, but nothing that his rank and +state could give him was so sweet as his liberty. To be free to choose +for himself in all things, was the highest privilege of man. What +pleasure could he have in a love which should be selected for him by +such a woman as his aunt? Then he gave the reins to some confused notion +of an Irish bride, a wife who should be half a wife and half not,--whom +he would love and cherish tenderly but of whose existence no English +friend should be aware. How could he more charmingly indulge his spirit +of adventure than by some such arrangement as this? + +He knew that he had given a pledge to his uncle to contract no marriage +that would be derogatory to his position. He knew also that he had given +a pledge to the priest that he would do no harm to Kate O'Hara. He felt +that he was bound to keep each pledge. As for that sweet, darling girl, +would he not sooner lose his life than harm her? But he was aware that +an adventurous life was always a life of difficulties, and that for such +as live adventurous lives the duty of overcoming difficulties was of all +duties the chief. Then he got into his canoe, and, having succeeded in +killing two gulls on the Drumdeirg rocks, thought that for that day he +had carried out his purpose as a man of adventure very well. + +During February and March he was often on the coast, and hardly one +visit did he make which was not followed by a letter from Castle Quin +to Scroope Manor. No direct accusation of any special fault was made +against him in consequence. No charge was brought of an improper +hankering after any special female, because Lady Scroope found herself +bound in conscience not to commit her correspondent; but very heavy +injunctions were laid upon him as to his general conduct, and he was +eagerly entreated to remember his great duty and to come home and settle +himself in England. In the mean time the ties which bound him to the +coast of Clare were becoming stronger and stronger every day. He had +ceased now to care much about seeing Father Marty, and would come, when +the tide was low, direct from Lahinch to the strand beneath the cliffs, +from whence there was a path through the rocks up to Ardkill. And there +he would remain for hours,--having his gun with him, but caring little +for his gun. He told himself that he loved the rocks and the wildness of +the scenery, and the noise of the ocean, and the whirring of the birds +above and below him. It was certainly true that he loved Kate O'Hara. + +"Neville, you must answer me a question," said the mother to him one +morning when they were out together, looking down upon the Atlantic when +the wind had lulled after a gale. + +"Ask it then," said he. + +"What is the meaning of all this? What is Kate to believe?" + +"Of course she believes that I love her better than all the world +besides,--that she is more to me than all the world can give or take. I +have told her at least, so often, that if she does not believe it she is +little better than a Jew." + +"You must not joke with me now. If you knew what it was to have one +child and only that you would not joke with me." + +"I am quite in earnest. I am not joking." + +"And what is to be the end of it?" + +"The end of it! How can I say? My uncle is an old man,--very old, very +infirm, very good, very prejudiced, and broken-hearted because his own +son, who died, married against his will." + +"You would not liken my Kate to such as that woman was?" + +"Your Kate! She is my Kate as much as yours. Such a thought as that +would be an injury to me as deep as to you. You know that to me my Kate, +our Kate, is all excellence,--as pure and good as she is bright and +beautiful. As God is above us she shall be my wife,--but I cannot take +her to Scroope Manor as my wife while my uncle lives." + +"Why should any one be ashamed of her at Scroope Manor?" + +"Because they are fools. But I cannot cure them of their folly. My uncle +thinks that I should marry one of my own class." + +"Class;--what class? He is a gentleman, I presume, and she is a lady." + +"That is very true;--so true that I myself shall act upon the truth. But +I will not make his last years wretched. He is a Protestant, and you are +Catholics." + +"What is that? Are not ever so many of your lords Catholics? Were they +not all Catholics before Protestants were ever thought of?" + +"Mrs. O'Hara, I have told you that to me she is as high and good and +noble as though she were a Princess. And I have told you that she shall +be my wife. If that does not content you, I cannot help it. It contents +her. I owe much to her." + +"Indeed you do;--everything." + +"But I owe much to him also. I do not think that you can gain anything +by quarrelling with me." + +She paused for a while before she answered him, looking into his face +the while with something of the ferocity of a tigress. So intent was her +gaze that his eyes quailed beneath it. "By the living God," she said, +"if you injure my child I will have the very blood from your heart." + +Nevertheless she allowed him to return alone to the house, where she +knew that he would find her girl. "Kate," he said, going into the +parlour in which she was sitting idle at the window,--"dear Kate." + +"Well, sir?" + +"I'm off." + +"You are always--off, as you call it." + +"Well,--yes. But I'm not on and off, as the saying is." + +"Why should you go away now?" + +"Do you suppose a soldier has got nothing to do? You never calculate, I +think, that Ennis is about three-and-twenty miles from here. Come, Kate, +be nice with me before I go." + +"How can I be nice when you are going? I always think when I see you go +that you will never come back to me again. I don't know why you should +come back to such a place as this?" + +"Because, as it happens, the place holds what I love best in all the +world." Then he lifted her from her chair, and put his arm round her +waist. "Do you not know that I love you better than all that the world +holds?" + +"How can I know it?" + +"Because I swear it to you." + +"I think that you like me--a little. Oh Fred, if you were to go and +never to come back I should die. Do you remember Mariana? 'My life is +dreary. He cometh not,' she said. She said, 'I am aweary, aweary; I +would that I were dead!' Do you remember that? What has mother been +saying to you?" + +"She has been bidding me to do you no harm. It was not necessary. I +would sooner pluck out my eye than hurt you. My uncle is an old man,--a +very old man. She cannot understand that it is better that we should +wait, than that I should have to think hereafter that I had killed him +by my unkindness." + +"But he wants you to love some other girl." + +"He cannot make me do that. All the world cannot change my heart, Kate. +If you can not trust me for that, then you do not love me as I love +you." + +"Oh, Fred, you know I love you. I do trust you. Of course I can wait, if +I only know that you will come back to me. I only want to see you." He +was now leaning over her, and her cheek was pressed close to his. Though +she was talking of Mariana, and pretending to fear future misery, all +this was Elysium to her,--the very joy of Paradise. She could sit and +think of him now from morning to night, and never find the day an hour +too long. She could remember the words in which he made his oaths to +her, and cherish the sweet feeling of his arm round her body. To have +her cheek close to his was godlike. And then when he would kiss her, +though she would rebuke him, it was as though all heaven were in the +embrace. + +"And now good-bye. One kiss, darling." + +"No." + +"Not a kiss when I am going?" + +"I don't want you to go. Oh, Fred! Well;--there. Good-bye, my own, own, +own beloved one. You'll be here on Monday?" + +"Yes,--on Monday." + +"And be in the boat four hours, and here four minutes. Don't I know +you?" But he went without answering this last accusation. + +"What shall we do, Kate, if he deceives us?" said the mother that +evening. + +"Die. But I am sure he will not deceive us." + +Neville, as he made his way down to Liscannor, where his gig was waiting +for him, did ask himself some serious questions about his adventure. +What must be the end of it? And had he not been imprudent? It may be +declared on his behalf that no idea of treachery to the girl ever +crossed his mind. He loved her too thoroughly for that. He did love +her--not perhaps as she loved him. He had many things in the world to +occupy his mind, and she had but one. He was almost a god to her. She to +him was simply the sweetest girl that he had ever as yet seen, and one +who had that peculiar merit that she was all his own. No other man had +ever pressed her hand, or drank her sweet breath. Was not such a love a +thousand times sweeter than that of some girl who had been hurried from +drawing-room to drawing-room, and perhaps from one vow of constancy to +another for half-a-dozen years? The adventure was very sweet. But how +was it to end? His uncle might live these ten years, and he had not the +heart,--nor yet the courage,--to present her to his uncle as his bride. + +When he reached Ennis that evening there was a despatch marked +"Immediate," from his aunt Lady Scroope. "Your uncle is very +ill;--dangerously ill, we fear. His great desire is to see you once +again. Pray come without losing an hour." + +Early on the following morning he started for Dublin, but before he +went to bed that night he not only wrote to Kate O'Hara, but enclosed +the note from his aunt. He could understand that though the tidings of +his uncle's danger was a shock to him there would be something in the +tidings which would cause joy to the two inmates of Ardkill Cottage. +When he sent that letter with his own, he was of course determined that +he would marry Kate O'Hara as soon as he was a free man. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +FRED NEVILLE RETURNS TO SCROOPE. + + +The suddenness of the demand made for the heir's presence at Scroope was +perhaps not owing to the Earl's illness alone. The Earl, indeed, was +ill,--so ill that he thought himself that his end was very near; but his +illness had been brought about chiefly by the misery to which he had +been subjected by the last despatch from Castle Quin to the Countess. "I +am most unwilling," she said, "to make mischief or to give unnecessary +pain to you or to Lord Scroope; but I think it my duty to let you know +that the general opinion about here is that Mr. Neville shall make Miss +O'Hara his wife,--_if he has not done so already_. The most dangerous +feature in the whole matter is that it is all managed by the priest of +this parish, a most unscrupulous person, who would do anything,--he +is so daring. We have known him many many years, and we know to what +lengths he would go. The laws have been so altered in favour of the +Roman Catholics, and against the Protestants, that a priest can do +almost just what he likes. I do not think that he would scruple for an +instant to marry them if he thought it likely that his prey would escape +from him. My own opinion is that there has been no marriage as yet, +though I know that others think that there has been." The expression of +this opinion from "others" which had reached Lady Mary's ears consisted +of an assurance from her own Protestant lady's maid that that wicked, +guzzling old Father Marty would marry the young couple as soon as look +at them, and very likely had done so already. "I cannot say," continued +Lady Mary, "that I actually know anything against the character of Miss +O'Hara. Of the mother we have very strange stories here. They live in a +little cottage with one maid-servant, almost upon the cliffs, and nobody +knows anything about them except the priest. If he should be seduced +into a marriage, nothing could be more unfortunate." Lady Mary probably +intended to insinuate that were young Neville prudently to get out of +the adventure, simply leaving the girl behind him blasted, ruined, and +destroyed, the matter no doubt would be bad; but in that case the great +misfortune would have been avoided. She could not quite say this in +plain words; but she felt, no doubt, that Lady Scroope would understand +her. Then Lady Mary went on to assure her friend that though she and her +father and sisters very greatly regretted that Mr. Neville had not again +given them the pleasure of seeing him at Castle Quin, no feeling of +injury on that score had induced her to write so strongly as she had +done. She had been prompted to do so simply by her desire to prevent _a +most ruinous alliance_. + +Lady Scroope acknowledged entirely the truth of these last words. Such +an alliance would be most ruinous! But what could she do? Were she to +write to Fred and tell him all that she heard,--throwing to the winds +Lady Mary's stupid injunctions respecting secrecy, as she would not have +scrupled to do could she have thus obtained her object,--might it not be +quite possible that she would precipitate the calamity which she desired +so eagerly to avoid? Neither had she nor had her husband any power over +the young man, except such as arose from his own good feeling. The Earl +could not disinherit him;--could not put a single acre beyond his reach. +Let him marry whom he might he must be Earl Scroope of Scroope, and the +woman so married must be the Countess of Scroope. There was already a +Lady Neville about the world whose existence was a torture to them; and +if this young man chose also to marry a creature utterly beneath him and +to degrade the family, no effort on their part could prevent him. But +if, as seemed probable, he were yet free, and if he could be got to come +again among them, it might be that he still had left some feelings on +which they might work. No doubt there was the Neville obstinacy about +him; but he had seemed to both of them to acknowledge the sanctity of +his family, and to appreciate in some degree the duty which he owed to +it. + +The emergency was so great that she feared to act alone. She told +everything to her husband, shewing him Lady Mary's letter, and the +effect upon him was so great that it made him ill. "It will be better +for me," he said, "to turn my face to the wall and die before I know +it." He took to his bed, and they of his household did think that he +would die. He hardly spoke except to his wife, and when alone with +her did not cease to moan over the destruction which had come upon +the house. "If it could only have been the other brother," said Lady +Scroope. + +"There can be no change," said the Earl. "He must do as it lists him +with the fortune and the name and the honours of the family." + +Then on one morning there was a worse bulletin than heretofore given by +the doctor, and Lady Scroope at once sent off the letter which was to +recall the nephew to his uncle's bedside. The letter, as we have seen, +was successful, and Fred, who caused himself to be carried over from +Dorchester to Scroope as fast as post-horses could be made to gallop, +almost expected to be told on his arrival that his uncle had departed to +his rest. In the hall he encountered Mrs. Bunce the housekeeper. "We +think my lord is a little better," said Mrs. Bunce almost in a whisper. +"My lord took a little broth in the middle of the day, and we believe +he has slept since." Then he passed on and found his aunt in the small +sitting-room. His uncle had rallied a little, she told him. She was very +affectionate in her manner, and thanked him warmly for his alacrity in +coming. When he was told that his uncle would postpone his visit till +the next morning he almost began to think that he had been fussy in +travelling so quickly. + +That evening he dined alone with his aunt, and the conversation during +dinner and as they sat for a few minutes after dinner had reference +solely to his uncle's health. But, though they were alone on this +evening, he was surprised to find that Sophie Mellerby was again at +Scroope. Lady Sophia and Mr. Mellerby were up in London, but Sophie was +not to join them till May. As it happened, however, she was dining at +the parsonage this evening. She must have been in the house when Neville +arrived, but he had not seen her. "Is she going to live here?" he +asked, almost irreverently, when he was first told that she was in the +house. "I wish she were," said Lady Scroope. "I am childless, and she +is as dear to me as a daughter." Then Fred apologized, and expressed +himself as quite willing that Sophie Mellerby should live and die at +Scroope. + +The evening was dreadfully dull. It had seemed to him that the house was +darker, and gloomier, and more comfortless than ever. He had hurried +over to see a dying man, and now there was nothing for him to do but to +kick his heels. But before he went to bed his ennui was dissipated by +a full explanation of all his aunt's terrors. She crept down to him at +about nine, and having commenced her story by saying that she had a +matter of most vital importance on which to speak to him, she told him +in fact all that she had heard from Lady Mary. + +"She is a mischief-making gossiping old maid," said Neville angrily. + +"Will you tell me that there is no truth in what she writes?" asked Lady +Scroope. But this was a question which Fred Neville was not prepared to +answer, and he sat silent. "Fred, tell me the truth. Are you married?" + +"No;--I am not married." + +"I know that you will not condescend to an untruth." + +"If so, my word must be sufficient." + +But it was not sufficient. She longed to extract from him some repeated +and prolonged assurance which might bring satisfaction to her own +mind. "I am glad, at any rate, to hear that there is no truth in that +suspicion." To this he would not condescend to reply, but sat glowering +at her as though in wrath that any question should be asked him about +his private concerns. "You must feel, Fred, for your uncle in such a +matter. You must know how important this is to him. You have heard what +he has already suffered; and you must know too that he has endeavoured +to be very good to you." + +"I do know that he has,--been very good to me." + +"Perhaps you are angry with me for interfering." He would not deny that +he was angry. "I should not do so were it not that your uncle is ill and +suffering." + +"You have asked me a question and I have answered it. I do not know what +more you want of me." + +"Will you say that there is no truth in all this that Lady Mary says?" + +"Lady Mary is an impertinent old maid." + +"If you were in your uncle's place, and if you had an heir as to whose +character in the world you were anxious, you would not think anyone +impertinent who endeavoured for the sake of friendship to save your +name and family from a disreputable connexion." + +"I have made no disreputable connexion. I will not allow the word +disreputable to be used in regard to any of my friends." + +"You do know people of the name of O'Hara?" + +"Of course I do." + +"And there is a--young lady?" + +"I may know a dozen young ladies as to whom I shall not choose to +consult Lady Mary Quin." + +"You understand what I mean, Fred. Of course I do not wish to ask you +anything about your general acquaintances. No doubt you meet many girls +whom you admire, and I should be very foolish were I to make inquiries +of you or of anybody else concerning them. I am the last person to be so +injudicious. If you will tell me that there is not and never shall be +any question of marriage between you and Miss O'Hara, I will not say +another word." + +"I will not pledge myself to anything for the future." + +"You told your uncle you would never make a marriage that should be +disgraceful to the position which you will be called upon to fill." + +"Nor will I." + +"But would not this marriage be disgraceful, even were the young lady +ever so estimable? How are the old families of the country to be kept +up, and the old blood maintained if young men, such as you are, will not +remember something of all that is due to the name which they bear." + +"I do not know that I have forgotten anything." + +Then she paused before she could summon courage to ask him another +question. "You have made no promise of marriage to Miss O'Hara?" He sat +dumb, but still looking at her with that angry frown. "Surely your uncle +has a right to expect that you will answer that question." + +"I am quite sure that for his sake it will be much better that no such +questions shall be asked me." + +In point of fact he had answered the question. When he would not deny +that such promise had been made, there could no longer be any doubt of +the truth of what Lady Mary had written. Of course the whole truth had +now been elicited. He was not married but he was engaged;--engaged to +a girl of whom he knew nothing, a Roman Catholic, Irish, fatherless, +almost nameless,--to one who had never been seen in good society, one of +whom no description could be given, of whom no record could be made in +the peerage that would not be altogether disgraceful, a girl of whom he +was ashamed to speak before those to whom he owed duty and submission! + +That there might be a way to escape the evil even yet Lady Scroope +acknowledged to herself fully. Many men promise marriage but do not +keep the promise they have made. This lady, who herself was really +good,--unselfish, affectionate, religious, actuated by a sense of +duty in all that she did, whose life had been almost austerely moral, +entertained an idea that young men, such as Fred Neville, very commonly +made such promises with very little thought of keeping them. She did not +expect young men to be governed by principles such as those to which +young ladies are bound to submit themselves. She almost supposed that +heaven had a different code of laws for men and women in her condition +of life, and that salvation was offered on very different terms to the +two sexes. The breach of any such promise as the heir of Scroope could +have made to such a girl as this Miss O'Hara would be a perjury at which +Jove might certainly be expected to laugh. But in her catalogue there +were sins for which no young men could hope to be forgiven; and the sin +of such a marriage as this would certainly be beyond pardon. + +Of the injury which was to be done to Miss O'Hara, it may be said with +certainty that she thought not at all. In her eyes it would be no +injury, but simple justice,--no more than a proper punishment for +intrigue and wicked ambition. Without having seen the enemy to the +family of Scroope, or even having heard a word to her disparagement, she +could feel sure that the girl was bad,--that these O'Haras were vulgar +and false impostors, persons against whom she could put out all her +strength without any prick of conscience. Women in such matters are +always hard against women, and especially hard against those whom they +believe to belong to a class below their own. Certainly no feeling of +mercy would induce her to hold her hand in this task of saving her +husband's nephew from an ill-assorted marriage. Mercy to Miss O'Hara! +Lady Scroope had the name of being a very charitable woman. She gave +away money. She visited the poor. She had laboured hard to make the +cottages on the estate clean and comfortable. She denied herself many +things that she might give to others. But she would have no more mercy +on such a one as Miss O'Hara, than a farmer's labourer would have on a +rat! + +There was nothing more now to be said to the heir;--nothing more for the +present that could serve the purpose which she had in hand. "Your uncle +is very ill," she murmured. + +"I was so sorry to hear it." + +"We hope now that he may recover. For the last two days the doctor has +told us that we may hope." + +"I am so glad to find that it is so." + +"I am sure you are. You will see him to-morrow after breakfast. He is +most anxious to see you. I think sometimes you hardly reflect how much +you are to him." + +"I don't know why you should say so." + +"You had better not speak to him to-morrow about this affair,--of the +Irish young lady." + +"Certainly not,--unless he speaks to me about it." + +"He is hardly strong enough yet. But no doubt he will do so before you +leave us. I hope it may be long before you do that." + +"It can't be very long, Aunt Mary." To this she said nothing, but bade +him good-night and he was left alone. It was now past ten, and he +supposed that Miss Mellerby had come in and gone to her room. Why she +should avoid him in this way he could not understand. But as for Miss +Mellerby herself, she was so little to him that he cared not at all +whether he did or did not see her. All his brightest thoughts were away +in County Clare, on the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic. They might say +what they liked to him, but he would never be untrue to the girl whom +he had left there. His aunt had spoken of the "affair of--the Irish +young lady;" and he had quite understood the sneer with which she had +mentioned Kate's nationality. Why should not an Irish girl be as good as +any English girl? Of one thing he was quite sure,--that there was much +more of real life to be found on the cliffs of Moher than in the gloomy +chambers of Scroope Manor. + +He got up from his seat feeling absolutely at a loss how to employ +himself. Of course he could go to bed, but how terribly dull must life +be in a place in which he was obliged to go to bed at ten o'clock +because there was nothing to do. And since he had been there his only +occupation had been that of listening to his aunt's sermons. He began +to think that a man might pay too dearly even for being the heir to +Scroope. After sitting awhile in the dark gloom created by a pair of +candles, he got up and wandered into the large unused dining-room of the +mansion. It was a chamber over forty feet long, with dark flock paper +and dark curtains, with dark painted wainscoating below the paper, and +huge dark mahogany furniture. On the walls hung the portraits of the +Scroopes for many generations past, some in armour, some in their robes +of state, ladies with stiff bodices and high head-dresses, not beauties +by Lely or warriors and statesmen by Kneller, but wooden, stiff, +ungainly, hideous figures, by artists whose works had, unfortunately, +been more enduring than their names. He was pacing up and down the room +with a candle in his hand, trying to realize to himself what life at +Scroope might be with a wife of his aunt's choosing, and his aunt to +keep the house for them, when a door was opened at the end of the room, +away from that by which he had entered, and with a soft noiseless step +Miss Mellerby entered. She did not see him at first, as the light of her +own candle was in her eyes, and she was startled when he spoke to her. +His first idea was one of surprise that she should be wandering about +the house alone at night. "Oh, Mr. Neville," she said, "you quite took +me by surprise. How do you do? I did not expect to meet you here." + +"Nor I you!" + +"Since Lord Scroope has been so ill, Lady Scroope has been sleeping in +the little room next to his, downstairs, and I have just come from her." + +"What do you think of my uncle's state?" + +"He is better; but he is very weak." + +"You see him?" + +"Oh yes, daily. He is so anxious to see you, Mr. Neville, and so much +obliged to you for coming. I was sure that you would come." + +"Of course I came." + +"He wanted to see you this afternoon; but the doctor had expressly +ordered that he should be kept quiet. Good-night. I am so very glad that +you are here. I am sure that you will be good to him." + +Why should she be glad, and why should she be sure that he would be +good to his uncle? Could it be that she also had been told the story of +Kate O'Hara? Then, as no other occupation was possible to him, he took +himself to bed. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +FRED NEVILLE'S SCHEME. + + +On the next morning after breakfast Neville was taken into his uncle's +chamber, but there was an understanding that there was to be no +conversation on disagreeable subjects on this occasion. His aunt +remained in the room while he was there, and the conversation was +almost confined to the expression of thanks on the part of the Earl to +his nephew for coming, and of hopes on the part of the nephew that his +uncle might soon be well. One matter was mooted as to which no doubt +much would be said before Neville could get away. "I thought it better +to make arrangements to stay a fortnight," said Fred,--as though a +fortnight were a very long time indeed. + +"A fortnight!" said the Earl. + +"We won't talk of his going yet," replied Lady Scroope. + +"Supposing I had died, he could not have gone back in a fortnight," said +the Earl in a low moaning voice. + +"My dear uncle, I hope that I may live to see you in your own place here +at Scroope for many years to come." The Earl shook his head, but nothing +more was then said on that subject. Fred, however, had carried out his +purpose. He had been determined to let them understand that he would not +hold himself bound to remain long at Scroope Manor. + +Then he wrote a letter to his own Kate. It was the first time he had +addressed her in this fashion, and though he was somewhat of a gallant +gay Lothario, the writing of the letter was an excitement to him. If so, +what must the receipt of it have been to Kate O'Hara! He had promised +her that he would write to her, and from the moment that he was gone she +was anxious to send in to the post-office at Ennistimon for the treasure +which the mail car might bring to her. When she did get it, it was +indeed a treasure. To a girl who really loves, the first love letter is +a thing as holy as the recollection of the first kiss. "May I see it, +Kate?" said Mrs. O'Hara, as her daughter sat poring over the scrap of +paper by the window. + +"Yes, mamma,--if you please." Then she paused a moment. "But I think +that I had rather you did not. Perhaps he did not mean me to shew it." +The mother did not urge her request, but contented herself with coming +up behind her child and kissing her. The reader, however, shall have the +privilege which was denied to Mrs. O'Hara. + + + DEAREST KATE, + + I got here all alive yesterday at four. I came on as fast as ever + I could travel, and hardly got a mouthful to eat after I left + Limerick. I never saw such beastliness as they have at the stations. + My uncle is much better,--so much so that I shan't remain here very + long. I can't tell you any particular news,--except this, that + that old cat down at Castle Quin,--the one with the crisp-curled + wig,--must have the nose of a dog and the ears of a cat and the eyes + of a bird, and she sends word to Scroope of everything that she + smells and hears and sees. It makes not the slightest difference to + me,--nor to you I should think. Only I hate such interference. The + truth is old maids have nothing else to do. If I were you I wouldn't + be an old maid. + + I can't quite say how long it will be before I am back at + Ardkill, but not a day longer than I can help. Address to Scroope, + Dorsetshire,--that will be enough;--to F. Neville, Esq. Give my + love to your mother.--As for yourself, dear Kate, if you care for + my love, you may weigh mine for your own dear self with your own + weights and measures. Indeed you have all my heart. + + Your own F. N. + + There is a young lady here whom it is intended that I shall marry. + She is the pink of propriety and really very pretty;--but you need + not be a bit jealous. The joke is that my brother is furiously in + love with her, and that I fancy she would be just as much in love + with him only that she's told not to.--A thousand kisses. + + +It was not much of a love letter, but there were a few words in it which +sufficed altogether for Kate's happiness. She was told that she had +all his heart,--and she believed it. She was told that she need not be +jealous of the proper young lady, and she believed that too. He sent +her a thousand kisses; and she, thinking that he might have kissed the +paper, pressed it to her lips. At any rate his hand had rested on it. +She would have been quite willing to shew to her mother all these +expressions of her lover's love; but she felt that it would not be fair +to him to expose his allusions to the "beastliness" at the stations. He +might say what he liked to her; but she understood that she was not at +liberty to shew to others words which had been addressed to her in the +freedom of perfect intimacy. + +"Does he say anything of the old man?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"He says that his uncle is better." + +"Threatened folks live long. Does Neville tell you when he will be +back?" + +"Not exactly; but he says that he will not stay long. He does not like +Scroope at all. I knew that. He always says that,--that--" + +"Says what, dear?" + +"When we are married he will go away somewhere,--to Italy or Greece or +somewhere. Scroope he says is so gloomy." + +"And where shall I go?" + +"Oh, mother;--you shall be with us, always." + +"No, dear, you must not dream of that. When you have him you will not +want me." + +"Dear mother. I shall want you always." + +"He will not want me. We have no right to expect too much from him, +Kate. That he shall make you his wife we have a right to expect. If he +were false to you--" + +"He is not false. Why should you think him false?" + +"I do not think it; but if he were--! Never mind. If he be true to you, +I will not burden him. If I can see you happy, Kate, I will bear all the +rest." That which she would have to bear would be utter solitude for +life. She could look forward and see how black and tedious would be her +days; but all that would be nothing to her if her child were lifted up +on high. + +It was now the beginning of April, which for sportsmen in England is +of all seasons the most desperate. Hunting is over. There is literally +nothing to shoot. And fishing,--even if there were fishing in England +worth a man's time,--has not begun. A gentleman of enterprise driven +very hard in this respect used to declare that there was no remedy for +April but to go and fly hawks in Holland. Fred Neville could not fly +hawks at Scroope, and found that there was nothing for him to do. Miss +Mellerby suggested--books. "I like books better than anything," said +Fred. "I always have a lot of novels down at our quarters. But a fellow +can't be reading all day, and there isn't a novel in the house except +Walter Scott's and a lot of old rubbish. By-the-bye have you read 'All +Isn't Gold That Glitters?'" Miss Mellerby had not read the tale named. +"That's what I call a good novel." + +Day passed after day and it seemed as though he was expected to remain +at Scroope without any definite purpose, and, worse still, without any +fixed limit to his visit. At his aunt's instigation he rode about the +property and asked questions as to the tenants. It was all to be his +own, and in the course of nature must be his own very soon. There could +not but be an interest for him in every cottage and every field. But yet +there was present to him all the time a schoolboy feeling that he was +doing a task; and the occupation was not pleasant to him because it was +a task. The steward was with him as a kind of pedagogue, and continued +to instruct him during the whole ride. This man only paid so much +a year, and the rent ought to be so much more; but there were +circumstances. And "My Lord" had been peculiarly good. This farm was +supposed to be the best on the estate, and that other the worst. Oh +yes, there were plenty of foxes. "My Lord" had always insisted that the +foxes should be preserved. Some of the hunting gentry no doubt had made +complaints, but it was a great shame. Foxes had been seen, two or three +at a time, the very day after the coverts had been drawn blank. As for +game, a head of game could be got up very soon, as there was plenty of +corn and the woods were large; but "My Lord" had never cared for game. +The farmers all shot the rabbits on their own land. Rents were paid to +the day. There was never any mistake about that. Of course the land +would require to be re-valued, but "My Lord" wouldn't hear of such a +thing being done in his time. The Manor wood wanted thinning very badly. +The wood had been a good deal neglected. "My Lord" had never liked to +hear the axe going. That was Grumby Green and the boundary of the estate +in that direction. The next farm was college property, and was rented +five shillings an acre dearer than "My Lord's" land. If Mr. Neville +wished it the steward would show him the limit of the estate on the +other side to-morrow. No doubt there was a plan of the estate. It was +in "My Lord's" own room, and would shew every farm with its acreage and +bounds. Fred thought that he would study this plan on the next day +instead of riding about with the steward. + +He could not escape from the feeling that he was being taught his lesson +like a school-boy, and he did not like it. He longed for the freedom +of his boat on the Irish coast, and longed for the devotedness of Kate +O'Hara. He was sure that he loved her so thoroughly that life without +her was not to be regarded as possible. But certain vague ideas very +injurious to the Kate he so dearly loved crossed his brain. Under the +constant teaching of his aunt he did recognize it as a fact that he +owed a high duty to his family. For many days after that first night at +Scroope not a word was said to him about Kate O'Hara. He saw his uncle +daily,--probably twice a day; but the Earl never alluded to his Irish +love. Lady Scroope spoke constantly of the greatness of the position +which the heir was called upon to fill and of all that was due to the +honour of the family. Fred, as he heard her, would shake his head +impatiently, but would acknowledge the truth of what she said. He was +induced even to repeat the promise which he had made to his uncle, +and to assure his aunt that he would do nothing to mar or lessen the +dignity of the name of Neville. He did become, within his own mind, +indoctrinated with the idea that he would injure the position of the +earldom which was to be his were he to marry Kate O'Hara. Arguments +which had appeared to him to be absurd when treated with ridicule by +Father Marty, and which in regard to his own conduct he had determined +to treat as old women's tales, seemed to him at Scroope to be true +and binding. The atmosphere of the place, the companionship of Miss +Mellerby, the reverence with which he himself was treated by the +domestics, the signs of high nobility which surrounded him on all sides, +had their effect upon him. Noblesse oblige. He felt that it was so. Then +there crossed his brain visions of a future life which were injurious to +the girl he loved. + +Let his brother Jack come and live at Scroope and marry Sophie Mellerby. +As long as he lived Jack could not be the Earl, but in regard to money +he would willingly make such arrangements as would enable his brother +to maintain the dignity and state of the house. They would divide the +income. And then he would so arrange his matters with Kate O'Hara that +his brother's son should be heir to the Earldom. He had some glimmering +of an idea that as Kate was a Roman Catholic a marriage ceremony might +be contrived of which this would become the necessary result. There +should be no deceit. Kate should know it all, and everything should be +done to make her happy. He would live abroad, and would not call himself +by his title. They would be Mr. and Mrs. Neville. As to the property, +that must of course hereafter go with the title, but in giving up so +much to his brother, he could of course arrange as to the provision +necessary for any children of his own. No doubt his Kate would like to +be the Countess Scroope,--would prefer that a future son of her own +should be the future Earl. But as he was ready to abandon so much, +surely she would be ready to abandon something. He must explain to +her,--and to her mother,--that under no other circumstances could he +marry her. He must tell her of pledges made to his uncle before he knew +her, of the duty which he owed to his family, and of his own great +dislike to the kind of life which would await him as acting head of the +family. No doubt there would be scenes,--and his heart quailed as he +remembered certain glances which had flashed upon him from the eyes of +Mrs. O'Hara. But was he not offering to give up everything for his love? +His Kate should be his wife after some Roman Catholic fashion in some +Roman Catholic country. Of course there would be difficulties,--the +least of which would not be those glances from the angry mother; but +it would be his business to overcome difficulties. There were always +difficulties in the way of any man who chose to leave the common grooves +of life and to make a separate way for himself. There were always +difficulties in the way of adventures. Dear Kate! He would never desert +his Kate. But his Kate must do as much as this for him. Did he not +intend that, whatever good things the world might have in store for him, +his Kate should share them all? + +His ideas were very hazy, and he knew himself that he was ignorant of +the laws respecting marriage. It occurred to him, therefore, that he had +better consult his brother, and confide everything to him. That Jack was +wiser than he, he was always willing to allow; and although he did in +some sort look down upon Jack as a plodding fellow, who shot no seals +and cared nothing for adventure, still he felt it to be almost a pity +that Jack should not be the future Earl. So he told his aunt that he +proposed to ask his brother to come to Scroope for a day or two before +he returned to Ireland. Had his aunt, or would his uncle have, any +objection? Lady Scroope did not dare to object. She by no means wished +that her younger nephew should again be brought within the influence +of Miss Mellerby's charms; but it would not suit her purpose to give +offence to the heir by refusing so reasonable request. He would have +been off to join his brother at Woolwich immediately. So the invitation +was sent, and Jack Neville promised that he would come. + +Fred knew nothing of the offer that had been made to Miss Mellerby, +though he had been sharp enough to discern his brother's feelings. "My +brother is coming here to-morrow," he said one morning to Miss Mellerby +when they were alone together. + +"So Lady Scroope has told me. I don't wonder that you should wish to see +him." + +"I hope everybody will be glad to see him. Jack is just about the very +best fellow in the world;--and he's one of the cleverest too." + +"It is so nice to hear one brother speak in that way of another." + +"I swear by Jack. He ought to have been the elder brother;--that's the +truth. Don't you like him?" + +"Who;--I. Oh, yes, indeed. What I saw of him I liked very much." + +"Isn't it a pity that he shouldn't have been the elder?" + +"I can't say that, Mr. Neville." + +"No. It wouldn't be just civil to me. But I can say it. When we were +here last winter I thought that my brother was--" + +"Was what, Mr Neville?" + +"Was getting to be very fond of you. Perhaps I ought not to say so." + +"I don't think that much good is ever done by saying that kind of +thing," said Miss Mellerby gravely. + +"It cannot at any rate do any harm in this case. I wish with all my +heart that he was fond of you and you of him." + +"That is all nonsense. Indeed it is." + +"I am not saying it without an object. I don't see why you and I should +not understand one another. If I tell you a secret will you keep it?" + +"Do not tell me any secret that I must keep from Lady Scroope." + +"But that is just what you must do." + +"But then suppose I don't do it," said Miss Mellerby. + +But Fred was determined to tell his secret. "The truth is that both my +uncle and my aunt want me to fall in love with you." + +"How very kind of them," said she with a little forced laugh. + +"I don't for a moment think that, had I tried it on ever so, I could +have succeeded. I am not at all the sort of man to be conceited in that +way. Wishing to do the best they could for me, they picked you out. It +isn't that I don't think as well of you as they do, but--" + +"Really, Mr. Neville, this is the oddest conversation." + +"Quite true. It is odd. But the fact is you are here, and there is +nobody else I can talk to. And I want you to know the exact truth. I'm +engaged to--somebody else." + +"I ought to break my heart;--oughtn't I?" + +"I don't in the least mind your laughing at me. I should have minded it +very much if I had asked you to marry me, and you had refused me." + +"You haven't given me the chance, you see." + +"I didn't mean. What was the good?" + +"Certainly not, Mr. Neville, if you are engaged to some one else. I +shouldn't like to be Number Two." + +"I'm in a peck of troubles;--that's the truth. I would change places +with my brother to-morrow if I could. I daresay you don't believe that, +but I would. I will not vex my uncle if I can help it, but I certainly +shall not throw over the girl who loves me. If it wasn't for the title, +I'd give up Scroope to my brother to-morrow, and go and live in some +place where I could get lots of shooting, and where I should never have +to put on a white choker." + +"You'll think better of all that." + +"Well!--I've just told you everything because I like to be on the +square. I wish you knew Kate O'Hara. I'm sure you would not wonder that +a fellow should love her. I had rather you didn't tell my aunt what I +have told you; but if you choose to do so, I can't help it." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE WISDOM OF JACK NEVILLE. + + +Neville had been forced to get his leave of absence renewed on the score +of his uncle's health, and had promised to prolong his absence till the +end of April. When doing so he had declared his intention of returning +to Ennis in the beginning of May; but no agreement to that had as yet +been expressed by his uncle or aunt. Towards the end of the month his +brother came to Scroope, and up to that time not a word further had been +said to him respecting Kate O'Hara. + +He had received an answer from Kate to his letter, prepared in a fashion +very different from that of his own. He had seated himself at a table +and in compliance with the pledge given by him, had scrawled off his +epistle as fast as he could write it. She had taken a whole morning to +think of hers, and had re-copied it after composing it, and had then +read it with the utmost care, confessing to herself, almost with tears, +that it was altogether unworthy of him to whom it was to be sent. It was +the first love letter she had ever written,--probably the first letter +she had ever written to a man, except those short notes which she would +occasionally scrawl to Father Marty in compliance with her mother's +directions. The letter to Fred was as follows;-- + + + ARDKILL COTTAGE, + 10th April, 18--. + + MY DEAREST FRED, + + I received your dear letter three or four days ago, and it made me + so happy. We were sorry that you should have such an uncomfortable + journey; but all that would be over and soon forgotten when you + found yourself in your comfortable home and among your own friends. + I am very glad to hear that your uncle is better. The thought of + finding him so ill must have made your journey very sad. As he is + so much better, I suppose you will come back soon to your poor + little Kate. + + There is no news at all to send you from Liscannor. Father Marty + was up here yesterday and says that your boat is all safe at + Lahinch. He says that Barney Morony is an idle fellow, but as he + has nothing to do he can't help being idle. You should come back + and not let him be idle any more. I think the sea gulls know that + you are away, because they are wheeling and screaming about louder + and bolder than ever. + + Mother sends her best love. She is very well. We have had nothing + to eat since you went because it has been Lent. So, if you had + been here, you would not have been able to get a bit of luncheon. + I dare say you have been a great deal better off at Scroope. + Father Marty says that you Protestants will have to keep your + Lent hereafter,--eighty days at a time instead of forty; and that + we Catholics will be allowed to eat just what we like, while you + Protestants will have to look on at us. If so, I think I'll manage + to give you a little bit. + + Do come back to your own Kate as soon as you can. I need not tell + you that I love you better than all the world because you know it + already. I am not a bit jealous of the proper young lady, and I + hope that she will fall in love with your brother. Then some day + we shall be sisters;--shan't we? I should like to have a proper + young lady for my sister so much. Only, perhaps she would despise + me. Do come back soon. Everything is so dull while you are away! + You would come back to your own Kate if you knew how great a joy + it is to her when she sees you coming along the cliff. + + Dearest, dearest love, I am always your own, own + + KATE O'HARA. + + +Neville thought of showing Kate's letter to Miss Mellerby, but when +he read it a second time he made up his mind that he would keep it to +himself. The letter was all very well, and, as regarded the expressions +towards himself, just what it should be. But he felt that it was not +such a letter as Miss Mellerby would have written herself, and he was +a little ashamed of all that was said about the priest. Neither was he +proud of the pretty, finished, French hand-writing, over every letter of +which his love had taken so much pains. In truth, Kate O'Hara was better +educated than himself, and perhaps knew as much as Sophie Mellerby. She +could have written her letter quite as well in French as in English, and +she did understand something of the formation of her sentences. Fred +Neville had been at an excellent school, but it may be doubted whether +he could have explained his own written language. Nevertheless he was +a little ashamed of his Kate, and thought that Miss Mellerby might +perceive her ignorance if he shewed her letter. + +He had sent for his brother in order that he might explain his scheme +and get his brother's advice;--but he found it very difficult to explain +his scheme to Jack Neville. Jack, indeed, from the very first would +not allow that the scheme was in any way practicable. "I don't quite +understand, Fred, what you mean. You don't intend to deceive her by a +false marriage?" + +"Most assuredly not. I do not intend to deceive her at all." + +"You must make her your wife, or not make her your wife." + +"Undoubtedly she will be my wife. I am quite determined about that. She +has my word,--and over and above that, she is dearer to me than anything +else." + +"If you marry her, her eldest son must of course be the heir to the +title." + +"I am not at all so sure of that. All manner of queer things may be +arranged by marriages with Roman Catholics." + +"Put that out of your head," said Jack Neville. "In the first place +you would certainly find yourself in a mess, and in the next place the +attempt itself would be dishonest. I dare say men have crept out of +marriages because they have been illegal; but a man who arranges a +marriage with the intention of creeping out of it is a scoundrel." + +"You needn't bully about it, Jack. You know very well that I don't mean +to creep out of anything." + +"I'm sure you don't. But as you ask me I must tell you what I think. You +are in a sort of dilemma between this girl and Uncle Scroope." + +"I'm not in any dilemma at all." + +"You seem to think you have made some promise to him which will be +broken if you marry her;--and I suppose you certainly have made her a +promise." + +"Which I certainly mean to keep," said Fred. + +"All right. Then you must break your promise to Uncle Scroope." + +"It was a sort of half and half promise. I could not bear to see him +making himself unhappy about it." + +"Just so. I suppose Miss O'Hara can wait." + +Fred Neville scratched his head. "Oh yes;--she can wait. There's nothing +to bind me to a day or a month. But my uncle may live for the next ten +years now." + +"My advice to you is to let Miss O'Hara understand clearly that you will +make no other engagement, but that you cannot marry her as long as your +uncle lives. Of course I say this on the supposition that the affair +cannot be broken off." + +"Certainly not," said Fred with a decision that was magnanimous. + +"I cannot think the engagement a fortunate one for you in your position. +Like should marry like. I'm quite sure of that. You would wish your +wife to be easily intimate with the sort of people among whom she would +naturally be thrown as Lady Scroope,--among the wives and daughters of +other Earls and such like." + +"No; I shouldn't." + +"I don't see how she would be comfortable in any other way." + +"I should never live among other Earls, as you call them. I hate that +kind of thing. I hate London. I should never live here." + +"What would you do?" + +"I should have a yacht, and live chiefly in that. I should go about +a good deal, and get into all manner of queer places. I don't say +but what I might spend a winter now and then in Leicestershire or +Northamptonshire, for I am fond of hunting. But I should have no regular +home. According to my scheme you should have this place,--and sufficient +of the income to maintain it of course." + +"That wouldn't do, Fred," said Jack, shaking his head,--"though I know +how generous you are." + +"Why wouldn't it do?" + +"You are the heir, and you must take the duties with the privileges. You +can have your yacht if you like a yacht,--but you'll soon get tired of +that kind of life. I take it that a yacht is a bad place for a nursery, +and inconvenient for one's old boots. When a man has a home fixed for +him by circumstances,--as you will have,--he gravitates towards it, +let his own supposed predilections be what they may. Circumstances are +stronger than predilections." + +"You're a philosopher." + +"I was always more sober than you, Fred." + +"I wish you had been the elder,--on the condition of the younger brother +having a tidy slice out of the property to make himself comfortable." + +"But I am not the elder, and you must take the position with all the +encumbrances. I see nothing for it but to ask Miss O'Hara to wait. If my +uncle lives long the probability is that one or the other of you will +change your minds, and that the affair will never come off." + +When the younger and wiser brother gave this advice he did not think +it all likely that Miss O'Hara would change her mind. Penniless young +ladies don't often change their minds when they are engaged to the heirs +of Earls. It was not at all probable that she should repent the bargain +that she had made. But Jack Neville did think it very probable that his +brother might do so;--and, indeed, felt sure that he would do so if +years were allowed to intervene. His residence in County Clare would not +be perpetual, and with him in his circumstances it might well be that +the young lady, being out of sight, should be out of mind. Jack could +not exactly declare his opinion on this head. His brother at present was +full of his promise, full of his love, full of his honour. Nor would +Jack have absolutely counselled him to break his word to the young +lady. But he thought it probable that in the event of delay poor Miss +O'Hara might go to the wall;--and he also thought that for the general +interests of the Scroope family it would be better that she should do +so. + +"And what are you going to do yourself?" asked Fred. + +"In respect of what?" + +"In respect of Miss Mellerby?" + +"In respect of Miss Mellerby I am not going to do anything," said Jack +as he walked away. + +In all that the younger brother said to the elder as to poor Kate O'Hara +he was no doubt wise and prudent; but in what he said about himself he +did not tell the truth. But then the question asked was one which a man +is hardly bound to answer, even to a brother. Jack Neville was much less +likely to talk about his love affairs than Fred, but not on that account +less likely to think about them. Sophie Mellerby had refused him once, +but young ladies have been known to marry gentlemen after refusing them +more than once. He at any rate was determined to persevere, having in +himself and in his affairs that silent faith of which the possessor is +so often unconscious, but which so generally leads to success. He found +Miss Mellerby to be very courteous to him if not gracious; and he had +the advantage of not being afraid of her. It did not strike him that +because she was the granddaughter of a duke, and because he was a +younger son, that therefore he ought not to dare to look at her. He +understood very well that she was brought there that Fred might marry +her;--but Fred was intent on marrying some one else, and Sophie Mellerby +was not a girl to throw her heart away upon a man who did not want +it. He had come to Scroope for only three days, but, in spite of some +watchfulness on the part of the Countess, he found his opportunity for +speaking before he left the house. "Miss Mellerby," he said, "I don't +know whether I ought to thank Fortune or to upbraid her for having again +brought me face to face with you." + +"I hope the evil is not so oppressive as to make you very loud in your +upbraidings." + +"They shall not at any rate be heard. I don't know whether there was any +spice of malice about my brother when he asked me to come here, and told +me in the same letter that you were at Scroope." + +"He must have meant it for malice, I should think," said the young lady, +endeavouring, but not quite successfully, to imitate the manner of the +man who loved her. + +"Of course I came." + +"Not on my behalf, I hope, Mr. Neville." + +"Altogether on your behalf. Fred's need to see me was not very great, +and, as my uncle had not asked me, and as my aunt, I fancy, does not +altogether approve of me, I certainly should not have come,--were it not +that I might find it difficult to get any other opportunity of seeing +you." + +"That is hardly fair to Lady Scroope, Mr. Neville." + +"Quite fair, I think. I did not come clandestinely. I am not ashamed +of what I am doing,--or of what I am going to do. I may be ashamed of +this,--that I should feel my chance of success to be so small. When I +was here before I asked you to--allow me to love you. I now ask you +again." + +"Allow you!" she said. + +"Yes;--allow me. I should be too bold were I to ask you to return my +love at once. I only ask you to know that because I was repulsed once, I +have not given up the pursuit." + +"Mr. Neville, I am sure that my father and mother would not permit it." + +"May I ask your father, Miss Mellerby?" + +"Certainly not,--with my permission." + +"Nevertheless you will not forget that I am suitor for your love?" + +"I will make no promise of anything, Mr. Neville." Then, fearing that +she had encouraged him, she spoke again. "I think you ought to take my +answer as final." + +"Miss Mellerby, I shall take no answer as final that is not favourable. +Should I indeed hear that you were to be married to another man, that +would be final; but that I shall not hear from your own lips. You will +say good-bye to me," and he offered her his hand. + +She gave him her hand;--and he raised it to his lips and kissed it, as +men were wont to do in the olden days. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +FRED NEVILLE MAKES A PROMISE. + + +Fred Neville felt that he had not received from his brother the +assistance or sympathy which he had required. He had intended to make +a very generous offer,--not indeed quite understanding how his offer +could be carried out, but still of a nature that should, he thought, +have bound his brother to his service. But Jack had simply answered him +by sermons;--by sermons and an assurance of the impracticability of +his scheme. Nevertheless he was by no means sure that his scheme was +impracticable. He was at least sure of this,--that no human power could +force him to adopt a mode of life that was distasteful to him. No one +could make him marry Sophie Mellerby, or any other Sophie, and maintain +a grand and gloomy house in Dorsetshire, spending his income, not in a +manner congenial to him, but in keeping a large retinue of servants +and taking what he called the "heavy line" of an English nobleman. +The property must be his own,--or at any rate the life use of it. He +swore to himself over and over again that nothing should induce him to +impoverish the family or to leave the general affairs of the house of +Scroope worse than he found them. Much less than half of that which he +understood to be the income coming from the estates would suffice for +him. But let his uncle or aunt,--or his strait-laced methodical brother, +say what they would to him, nothing should induce him to make himself a +slave to an earldom. + +But yet his mind was much confused and his contentment by no means +complete. He knew that there must be a disagreeable scene between +himself and his uncle before he returned to Ireland, and he knew also +that his uncle could, if he were so minded, stop his present very +liberal allowance altogether. There had been a bargain, no doubt, that +he should remain with his regiment for a year, and of that year six +months were still unexpired. His uncle could not quarrel with him for +going back to Ireland; but what answer should he make when his uncle +asked him whether he were engaged to marry Miss O'Hara,--as of course he +would ask; and what reply should he make when his uncle would demand of +him whether he thought such a marriage fit for a man in his position. He +knew that it was not fit. He believed in the title, in the sanctity of +the name, in the mysterious grandeur of the family. He did not think +that an Earl of Scroope ought to marry a girl of whom nothing whatever +was known. The pride of the position stuck to him;--but it irked him to +feel that the sacrifices necessary to support that pride should fall on +his own shoulders. + +One thing was impossible to him. He would not desert his Kate. But he +wished to have his Kate, as a thing apart. If he could have given six +months of each year to his Kate, living that yacht-life of which he had +spoken, visiting those strange sunny places which his imagination had +pictured to him, unshackled by conventionalities, beyond the sound of +church bells, unimpeded by any considerations of family,--and then have +migrated for the other six months to his earldom and his estates, to +his hunting and perhaps to Parliament, leaving his Kate behind him, +that would have been perfect. And why not? In the days which must come +so soon, he would be his own master. Who could impede his motions or +gainsay his will? Then he remembered his Kate's mother, and the glances +which would come from the mother's eyes. There might be difficulty even +though Scroope were all his own. + +He was not a villain;--simply a self-indulgent spoiled young man who had +realized to himself no idea of duty in life. He never once told himself +that Kate should be his mistress. In all the pictures which he drew for +himself of a future life everything was to be done for her happiness and +for her gratification. His yacht should be made a floating bower for +her delight. During those six months of the year which, and which only, +the provoking circumstances of his position would enable him to devote +to joy and love, her will should be his law. He did not think himself +to be fickle. He would never want another Kate. He would leave her +with sorrow. He would return to her with ecstasy. Everybody around him +should treat her with the respect due to an empress. But it would be +very expedient that she should be called Mrs. Neville instead of Lady +Scroope. Could things not be so arranged for him;--so arranged that he +might make a promise to his uncle, and yet be true to his Kate without +breaking his promise? That was his scheme. Jack said that his scheme was +impracticable. But the difficulties in his way were not, he thought, so +much those which Jack had propounded as the angry eyes of Kate O'Hara's +mother. + +At last the day was fixed for his departure. The Earl was already so +much better as to be able to leave his bedroom. Twice or thrice a day +Fred saw his uncle, and there was much said about the affairs of the +estate. The heir had taken some trouble, had visited some of the +tenants, and had striven to seem interested in the affairs of the +property. The Earl could talk for ever about the estate, every field, +every fence, almost every tree on which was familiar to him. That +his tenants should be easy in their circumstances, a protestant, +church-going, rent-paying people, son following father, and daughters +marrying as their mothers had married, unchanging, never sinking an inch +in the social scale, or rising,--this was the wish nearest to his heart. +Fred was well disposed to talk about the tenants as long as Kate O'Hara +was not mentioned. When the Earl would mournfully speak of his own +coming death, as an event which could not now be far distant, Fred with +fullest sincerity would promise that his wishes should be observed. No +rents should be raised. The axe should be but sparingly used. It seemed +to him strange that a man going into eternity should care about this +tree or that;--but as far as he was concerned the trees should stand +while Nature supported them. No servant should be dismissed. The +carriage horses should be allowed to die on the place. The old charities +should be maintained. The parson of the parish should always be a +welcome guest at the Manor. No promise was difficult for him to make so +long as that one question were left untouched. + +But when he spoke of the day of his departure as fixed,--as being "the +day after to-morrow,"--then he knew that the question must be touched. +"I am sorry,--very sorry, that you must go," said the Earl. + +"You see a man can't leave the service at a moment's notice." + +"I think that we could have got over that, Fred." + +"Perhaps as regards the service we might, but the regiment would think +ill of me. You see, so many things depend on a man's staying or going. +The youngsters mayn't have their money ready. I said I should remain +till October." + +"I don't at all wish to act the tyrant to you." + +"I know that, uncle." + +Then there was a pause. "I haven't spoken to you yet, Fred, on a matter +which has caused me a great deal of uneasiness. When you first came I +was not strong enough to allude to it, and I left it to your aunt." +Neville knew well what was coming now, and was aware that he was moved +in a manner that hardly became his manhood. "Your aunt tells me that you +have got into some trouble with a young lady in the west of Ireland." + +"No trouble, uncle, I hope." + +"Who is she?" + +Then there was another pause, but he gave a direct answer to the +question. "She is a Miss O'Hara." + +"A Roman Catholic?" + +"Yes." + +"A girl of whose family you know nothing?" + +"I know that she lives with her mother." + +"In absolute obscurity,--and poverty?" + +"They are not rich," said Fred. + +"Do not suppose that I regard poverty as a fault. It is not necessary +that you should marry a girl with any fortune." + +"I suppose not, Uncle Scroope." + +"But I understand that this young lady is quite beneath yourself in +life. She lives with her mother in a little cottage, without +servants,--" + +"There is a servant." + +"You know what I mean, Fred. She does not live as ladies live. She is +uneducated." + +"You are wrong there, my lord. She has been at an excellent school in +France." + +"In France! Who was her father, and what?" + +"I do not know what her father was;--a Captain O'Hara, I believe." + +"And you would marry such a girl as that;--a Roman Catholic; picked up +on the Irish coast,--one of whom nobody knows even her parentage or +perhaps her real name? It would kill me, Fred." + +"I have not said that I mean to marry her." + +"But what do you mean? Would you ruin her;--seduce her by false promises +and then leave her? Do you tell me that in cold blood you look forward +to such a deed as that?" + +"Certainly not." + +"I hope not, my boy; I hope not that. Do not tell me that a heartless +scoundrel is to take my name when I am gone." + +"I am not a heartless scoundrel," said Fred Neville, jumping up from his +seat. + +"Then what is it that you mean? You have thought, have you not, of the +duties of the high position to which you are called? You do not suppose +that wealth is to be given to you, and a great name, and all the +appanages and power of nobility, in order that you may eat more, and +drink more, and lie softer than others. It is because some think so, and +act upon such base thoughts, that the only hereditary peerage left in +the world is in danger of encountering the ill will of the people. Are +you willing to be known only as one of those who have disgraced their +order?" + +"I do not mean to disgrace it." + +"But you will disgrace it if you marry such a girl as that. If she were +fit to be your wife, would not the family of Lord Kilfenora have known +her?" + +"I don't think much of their not knowing her, uncle." + +"Who does know her? Who can say that she is even what she pretends to +be? Did you not promise me that you would make no such marriage?" + +He was not strong to defend his Kate. Such defence would have been in +opposition to his own ideas, in antagonism with the scheme which he had +made for himself. He understood, almost as well as did his uncle, that +Kate O'Hara ought not to be made Countess of Scroope. He too thought +that were she to be presented to the world as the Countess of Scroope, +she would disgrace the title. And yet he would not be a villain! And yet +he would not give her up! He could only fall back upon his scheme. "Miss +O'Hara is as good as gold," he said; "but I acknowledge that she is not +fit to be mistress of this house." + +"Fred," said the Earl, almost in a passion of affectionate solicitude, +"do not go back to Ireland. We will arrange about the regiment. No harm +shall be done to any one. My health will be your excuse, and the lawyers +shall arrange it all." + +"I must go back," said Neville. Then the Earl fell back in his chair and +covered his face with his hands. "I must go back; but I will give you my +honour as a gentleman to do nothing that shall distress you." + +"You will not marry her?" + +"No." + +"And, oh, Fred, as you value your own soul, do not injure a poor girl +so desolate as that. Tell her and tell her mother the honest truth. If +there be tears, will not that be better than sorrow, and disgrace, and +ruin?" Among evils there must always be a choice; and the Earl thought +that a broken promise was the lightest of those evils to a choice among +which his nephew had subjected himself. + +And so the interview was over, and there had been no quarrel. Fred +Neville had given the Earl a positive promise that he would not marry +Kate O'Hara,--to whom he had sworn a thousand times that she should +be his wife. Such a promise, however,--so he told himself--is never +intended to prevail beyond the lifetime of the person to whom it is +made. He had bound himself not to marry Kate O'Hara while his uncle +lived, and that was all. + +Or might it not be better to take his uncle's advice altogether and tell +the truth,--not to Kate, for that he could not do,--but to Mrs. O'Hara +or to Father Marty? As he thought of this he acknowledged to himself +that the task of telling such a truth to Mrs. O'Hara would be almost +beyond his strength. Could he not throw himself upon the priest's +charity, and leave it all to him? Then he thought of his own Kate, and +some feeling akin to genuine love told him that he could not part with +the girl in such fashion as that. He would break his heart were he to +lose his Kate. When he looked at it in that light it seemed to him that +Kate was more to him than all the family of the Scroopes with all their +glory. Dear, sweet, soft, innocent, beautiful Kate! His Kate who, as +he knew well, worshipped the very ground on which he trod! It was not +possible that he should separate himself from Kate O'Hara. + +On his return to Ireland he turned that scheme of his over and over +again in his head. Surely something might be done if the priest would +stand his friend! What if he were to tell the whole truth to the +priest, and ask for such assistance as a priest might give him? But the +one assurance to which he came during his journey was this;--that when +a man goes in for adventures, he requires a good deal of skill and some +courage too to carry him through them. + + + + + +VOLUME II. + + + +CHAPTER I. + +FROM BAD TO WORSE. + + +As he was returning to Ennis Neville was so far removed from immediate +distress as to be able to look forward without fear to his meeting with +the two ladies at Ardkill. He could as yet take his Kate in his arms +without any hard load upon his heart, such as would be there if he knew +that it was incumbent upon him at once to explain his difficulties. His +uncle was still living, but was old and still ill. He would naturally +make the most of the old man's age and infirmities. There was every +reason why they should wait, and no reason why such waiting should bring +reproaches upon his head. On the night of his arrival at his quarters he +despatched a note to his Kate. + + + Dearest love. + + Here I am again in the land of freedom and potatoes. I need not + trouble you with writing about home news, as I shall see you the + day after to-morrow. All to-morrow and Wednesday morning I must + stick close to my guns here. After one on Wednesday I shall be + free. I will drive over to Lahinch, and come round in the boat. + I must come back here the same night, but I suppose it will be + the next morning before I get to bed. I sha'n't mind that if I + get something for my pains. My love to your mother. Your own, + + F. N. + + +In accordance with this plan he did drive over to Lahinch. He might have +saved time by directing that his boat should come across the bay to meet +him at Liscannor, but he felt that he would prefer not to meet Father +Marty at present. It might be that before long he would be driven to +tell the priest a good deal, and to ask for the priest's assistance; but +at present he was not anxious to see Father Marty. Barney Morony was +waiting for him at the stable where he put up his horse, and went down +with him to the beach. The ladies, according to Barney, were quite well +and more winsome than ever. But,--and this information was not given +without much delay and great beating about the bush,--there was a +rumour about Liscannor that Captain O'Hara had "turned up." Fred was +so startled at this that he could not refrain from showing his anxiety +by the questions which he asked. Barney did not seem to think that the +Captain had been at Ardkill or anywhere in the neighbourhood. At any +rate he, Barney, had not seen him. He had just heard the rumour. "Shure, +Captain, I wouldn't be telling yer honour a lie; and they do be saying +that the Captain one time was as fine a man as a woman ever sot eyes +on;--and why not, seeing what kind the young lady is, God bless her!" If +it were true that Kate's father had "turned up," such an advent might +very naturally alter Neville's plans. It would so change the position of +things as to relieve him in some degree from the force of his past +promises. + +Nevertheless when he saw Kate coming along the cliffs to meet him, the +one thing more certain to him than all other things was that he would +never abandon her. She had been watching for him almost from the hour at +which he had said that he would leave Ennis, and, creeping up among the +rocks, had seen his boat as it came round the point from Liscannor. She +had first thought that she would climb down the path to meet him; but +the tide was high and there was now no strip of strand below the cliffs; +and Barney Morony would have been there to see; and she resolved that it +would be nicer to wait for him on the summit. "Oh Fred, you have come +back," she said, throwing herself on his breast. + +"Yes; I am back. Did you think I was going to desert you?" + +"No; no. I knew you would not desert me. Oh, my darling!" + +"Dear Kate;--dearest Kate." + +"You have thought of me sometimes?" + +"I have thought of you always,--every hour." And so he swore to her that +she was as much to him as he could possibly be to her. She hung on his +arm as she went down to the cottage, and believed herself to be the +happiest and most fortunate girl in Ireland. As yet no touch of the +sorrows of love had fallen upon her. + +He could not all at once ask her as to that rumour which Morony had +mentioned to him. But he thought of it as he walked with his arm round +her waist. Some question must be asked, but it might, perhaps, be better +that he should ask it of the mother. Mrs. O'Hara was at the cottage and +seemed almost as glad to see him as Kate had been. "It is very pleasant +to have you back again," she said. "Kate has been counting first the +hours, and then the minutes." + +"And so have you, mother." + +"Of course we want to hear all the news," said Mrs. O'Hara. Then +Neville, with the girl who was to be his wife sitting close beside him +on the sofa,--almost within his embrace,--told them how things were +going at Scroope. His uncle was very weak,--evidently failing; but still +so much better as to justify the heir in coming away. He might perhaps +live for another twelve months, but the doctors thought it hardly +possible that he should last longer than that. Then the nephew went +on to say that his uncle was the best and most generous man in the +world,--and the finest gentleman and the truest Christian. He told also +of the tenants who were not to be harassed, and the servants who were +not to be dismissed, and the horses that were to be allowed to die in +their beds, and the trees that were not to be cut down. + +"I wish I knew him," said Kate. "I wish I could have seen him once." + +"That can never be," said Fred, sadly. + +"No;--of course not." + +Then Mrs. O'Hara asked a question. "Has he ever heard of us?" + +"Yes;--he has heard of you." + +"From you?" + +"No;--not first from me. There are many reasons why I would not have +mentioned your names could I have helped it. He has wished me to marry +another girl,--and especially a Protestant girl. That was impossible." + +"That must be impossible now, Fred," said Kate, looking up into his +face. + +"Quite so, dearest; but why should I have vexed him, seeing that he is +so good to me, and that he must be gone so soon?" + +"Who had told him of us?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"That woman down there at Castle Quin." + +"Lady Mary?" + +"Foul-tongued old maid that she is," exclaimed Fred. "She writes to my +aunt by every post, I believe." + +"What evil can she say of us?" + +"She does say evil. Never mind what. Such a woman always says evil of +those of her sex who are good-looking." + +"There, mother;--that's for you," said Kate, laughing. "I don't care +what she says." + +"If she tells your aunt that we live in a small cottage, without +servants, without society, with just the bare necessaries of life, she +tells the truth of us." + +"That's just what she does say;--and she goes on harping about +religion. Never mind her. You can understand that my uncle should be +old-fashioned. He is very old, and we must wait." + +"Waiting is so weary," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"It is not weary for me at all," said Kate. + +Then he left them, without having said a word about the Captain. He +found the Captain to be a subject very uncomfortable to mention, and +thought as he was sitting there that it might perhaps be better to make +his first enquiries of this priest. No one said a word to him about the +Captain beyond what he had heard from his boatman. For, as it happened, +he did not see the priest till May was nearly past, and during all that +time things were going from bad to worse. As regarded any services which +he rendered to the army at this period of his career, the excuses which +he had made to his uncle were certainly not valid. Some pretence at +positively necessary routine duties it must be supposed that he made; +but he spent more of his time either on the sea, or among the cliffs +with Kate, or on the road going backwards and forwards, than he did at +his quarters. It was known that he was to leave the regiment and become +a great man at home in October, and his brother officers were kind to +him. And it was known also, of course, that there was a young lady down +on the sea coast beyond Ennistimon, and doubtless there were jokes on +the subject. But there was no one with him at Ennis having such weight +of fears or authority as might have served to help to rescue him. During +this time Lady Mary Quin still made her reports, and his aunt's letters +were full of cautions and entreaties. "I am told," said the Countess, in +one of her now detested epistles, "that the young woman has a reprobate +father who has escaped from the galleys. Oh, Fred, do not break our +hearts." He had almost forgotten the Captain when he received this +further rumour which had circulated to him round by Castle Quin and +Scroope Manor. + +It was all going from bad to worse. He was allowed by the mother to be +at the cottage as much as he pleased, and the girl was allowed to wander +with him when she would among the cliffs. It was so, although Father +Marty himself had more than once cautioned Mrs. O'Hara that she was +imprudent. "What can I do?" she said. "Have not you yourself taught me +to believe that he is true?" + +"Just spake a word to Miss Kate herself." + +"What can I say to her now? She regards him as her husband before God." + +"But he is not her husband in any way that would prevent his taking +another wife an' he plases. And, believe me, Misthress O'Hara, them sort +of young men like a girl a dale better when there's a little 'Stand off' +about her." + +"It is too late to bid her to be indifferent to him now, Father Marty." + +"I am not saying that Miss Kate is to lose her lover. I hope I'll have +the binding of 'em together myself, and I'll go bail I'll do it fast +enough. In the meanwhile let her keep herself to herself a little more." + +The advice was very good, but Mrs. O'Hara knew not how to make use of +it. She could tell the young man that she would have his heart's blood +if he deceived them, and she could look at him as though she meant to be +as good as her word. She had courage enough for any great emergency. But +now that the lover had been made free of the cottage she knew not how to +debar him. She could not break her Kate's heart by expressing doubts to +her. And were he to be told to stay away, would he not be lost to them +for ever? Of course he could desert them if he would, and then they must +die. + +It was going from bad to worse certainly; and not the less so because +he was more than ever infatuated about the girl. When he had calculated +whether it might be possible to desert her he had been at Scroope. He +was in County Clare now, and he did not hesitate to tell himself that +it was impossible. Whatever might happen, and to whomever he might be +false,--he would be true to her. He would at any rate be so true to her +that he would not leave her. If he never made her his legal wife, his +wife legal at all points, he would always treat her as wife. When his +uncle the Earl should die, when the time came in which he would be +absolutely free as to his own motions, he would discover the way in +which this might best be done. If it were true that his Kate's father +was a convict escaped from the galleys, that surely would be an +additional reason why she should not be made Countess of Scroope. Even +Mrs. O'Hara herself must understand that. With Kate, with his own Kate, +he thought that there would be no difficulty. + +From bad to worse! Alas, alas; there came a day in which the +pricelessness of the girl he loved sank to nothing, vanished away, and +was as a thing utterly lost, even in his eyes. The poor unfortunate +one,--to whom beauty had been given, and grace, and softness,--and +beyond all these and finer than these, innocence as unsullied as the +whiteness of the plumage on the breast of a dove; but to whom, alas, +had not been given a protector strong enough to protect her softness, +or guardian wise enough to guard her innocence! To her he was godlike, +noble, excellent, all but holy. He was the man whom Fortune, more than +kind, had sent to her to be the joy of her existence, the fountain of +her life, the strong staff for her weakness. Not to believe in him would +be the foulest treason! To lose him would be to die! To deny him would +be to deny her God! She gave him all;--and her pricelessness in his eyes +was gone for ever. + +He was sitting with her one day towards the end of May on the edge of +the cliff, looking down upon the ocean and listening to the waves, when +it occurred to him that he might as well ask her about her father. +It was absurd he thought to stand upon any ceremony with her. He was +very good to her, and intended to be always good to her, but it was +essentially necessary to him to know the truth. He was not aware, +perhaps, that he was becoming rougher with her than had been his wont. +She certainly was not aware of it, though there was a touch of awe +sometimes about her as she answered him. She was aware that she now +shewed to him an absolute obedience in all things which had not been +customary with her; but then it was so sweet to obey him; so happy a +thing to have such a master! If he rebuked her, he did it with his arm +round her waist, so that she could look into his face and smile as she +promised that she would be good and follow his behests in all things. He +had been telling her now of some fault in her dress, and she had been +explaining that such faults would come when money was so scarce. Then he +had offered her gifts. A gift she would of course take. She had already +taken gifts which were the treasures of her heart. But he must not pay +things for her till,--till--. Then she again looked up into his face and +smiled. "You are not angry with me?" she said. + +"Kate,--I want to ask you a particular question." + +"What question?" + +"You must not suppose, let the answer be what it may, that it can make +any difference between you and me." + +"Oh,--I hope not," she replied trembling. + +"It shall make none," he answered with all a master's assurance and +authority. "Therefore you need not be afraid to answer me. Tidings have +reached me on a matter as to which I ought to be informed." + +"What matter? Oh Fred, you do so frighten me. I'll tell you anything I +know." + +"I have been told that--that your father--is alive." He looked down +upon her and could see that her face was red up to her very hair. "Your +mother once told me that she had never been certain of his death." + +"I used to think he was dead." + +"But now you think he is alive?" + +"I think he is;--but I do not know. I never saw my father so as to +remember him; though I do remember that we used to be very unhappy when +we were in Spain." + +"And what have you heard lately? Tell me the truth, you know." + +"Of course I shall tell you the truth, Fred. I think mother got a +letter, but she did not shew it me. She said just a word, but nothing +more. Father Marty will certainly know if she knows." + +"And you know nothing?" + +"Nothing." + +"I think I must ask Father Marty." + +"But will it matter to you?" Kate asked. + +"At any rate it shall not matter to you," he said, kissing her. And +then again she was happy; though there had now crept across her heart +the shadow of some sad foreboding, a foretaste of sorrow that was not +altogether bitter as sorrow is, but which taught her to cling closely +to him when he was there and would fill her eyes with tears when she +thought of him in his absence. + +On this day he had not found Mrs. O'Hara at the cottage. She had gone +down to Liscannor, Kate told him. He had sent his boat back to the +strand near that village, round the point and into the bay, as it could +not well lie under the rocks at high tide, and he now asked Kate to +accompany him as he walked down. They would probably meet her mother on +the road. Kate, as she tied on her hat, was only too happy to be his +companion. "I think," he said, "that I shall try and see Father Marty as +I go back. If your mother has really heard anything about your father, +she ought to have told me." + +"Don't be angry with mother, Fred." + +"I won't be angry with you, my darling," said the master with masterful +tenderness. + +Although he had intimated his intention of calling on the priest that +very afternoon, it may be doubted whether he was altogether gratified +when he met the very man with Mrs. O'Hara close to the old burying +ground. "Ah, Mr. Neville," said the priest, "and how's it all wid you +this many a day?" + +"The top of the morning to you thin, Father Marty," said Fred, trying +to assume an Irish brogue. Nothing could be more friendly than the +greeting. The old priest took off his hat to Kate, and made a low bow, +as though he should say,--to the future Countess of Scroope I owe a very +especial respect. Mrs. O'Hara held her future son-in-law's hand for a +moment, as though she might preserve him for her daughter by some show +of affection on her own part. "And now, Misthress O'Hara," said the +priest, "as I've got a companion to go back wid me, I'm thinking I'll +not go up the hill any further." Then they parted, and Kate looked as +though she were being robbed of her due because her lover could not give +her one farewell kiss in the priest's presence. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +IS SHE TO BE YOUR WIFE? + + +"It's quite a sthranger you are, these days," said the priest, as soon +as they had turned their backs upon the ladies. + +"Well; yes. We haven't managed to meet since I came back;--have we?" + +"I've been pretty constant at home, too. But you like them cliffs up +there, better than the village no doubt." + +"Metal more attractive, Father Marty," said Fred laughing;--"not meaning +however any slight upon Liscannor or the Cork whisky." + +"The Cork whisky is always to the fore, Mr. Neville. And how did you +lave matters with your noble uncle?" + +Neville at the present moment was anxious rather to speak of Kate's +ignoble father than of his own noble uncle. He had declared his +intention of making inquiry of Father Marty, and he thought that he +should do so with something of a high hand. He still had that scheme +in his head, and he might perhaps be better prepared to discuss it +with the priest if he could first make this friend of the O'Hara family +understand how much he, Neville, was personally injured by this "turning +up" of a disreputable father. But, should he allow the priest at once to +run away to Scroope and his noble uncle, the result of such conversation +would simply be renewed promises on his part in reference to his future +conduct to Kate O'Hara. + +"Lord Scroope wasn't very well when I left him. By the bye, Father +Marty, I've been particularly anxious to see you." + +"'Deed thin I was aisy found, Mr. Neville." + +"What is this I hear about--Captain O'Hara?" + +"What is it that you have heard, Mr. Neville?" Fred looked into the +priest's face and found that he, at least, did not blush. It may be that +all power of blushing had departed from Father Marty. + +"In the first place I hear that there is such a man." + +"Ony way there was once." + +"You think he's dead then?" + +"I don't say that. It's a matter of,--faith, thin, it's a matter of nigh +twenty years since I saw the Captain. And when I did see him I didn't +like him. I can tell you that, Mr. Neville." + +"I suppose not." + +"That lass up there was not born when I saw him. He was a handsome man +too, and might have been a gentleman av' he would." + +"But he wasn't." + +"It's a hard thing to say what is a gentleman, Mr. Neville. I don't know +a much harder thing. Them folk at Castle Quin, now, wouldn't scruple +to say that I'm no gentleman, just because I'm a Popish priest. I say +that Captain O'Hara was no gentleman because--he ill-treated a woman." +Father Marty as he said this stopped a moment on the road, turning round +and looking Neville full in the face. Fred bore the look fairly well. +Perhaps at the moment he did not understand its application. It may be +that he still had a clear conscience in that matter, and thought that he +was resolved to treat Kate O'Hara after a fashion that would in no way +detract from his own character as a gentleman. "As it was," continued +the priest, "he was a low blag-guard." + +"He hadn't any money, I suppose?" + +"'Deed and I don't think he was iver throubled much in respect of money. +But money doesn't matter, Mr. Neville." + +"Not in the least," said Fred. + +"Thim ladies up there are as poor as Job, but anybody that should say +that they weren't ladies would just be shewing that he didn't know the +difference. The Captain was well born, Mr. Neville, av' that makes ony +odds." + +"Birth does go for something, Father Marty." + +"Thin let the Captain have the advantage. Them O'Haras of Kildare +weren't proud of him I'm thinking, but he was a chip of that block; and +some one belonging to him had seen the errors of the family ways, in +respect of making him a Papist. 'Deed and I must say, Mr. Neville, when +they send us any offsets from a Prothestant family it isn't the best +that they give us." + +"I suppose not, Father Marty." + +"We can make something of a bit of wood that won't take ony shape at +all, at all along wid them. But there wasn't much to boast of along of +the Captain." + +"But is he alive, Father Marty;--or is he dead? I think I've a right to +be told." + +"I am glad to hear you ask it as a right, Mr. Neville. You have a right +if that young lady up there is to be your wife." Fred made no answer +here, though the priest paused for a moment, hoping that he would do +so. But the question could be asked again, and Father Marty went on to +tell all that he knew, and all that he had heard of Captain O'Hara. He +was alive. Mrs. O'Hara had received a letter purporting to be from her +husband, giving an address in London, and asking for money. He, Father +Marty, had seen the letter; and he thought that there might perhaps be a +doubt whether it was written by the man of whom they were speaking. Mrs. +O'Hara had declared that if it were so written the handwriting was much +altered. But then in twelve years the writing of a man who drank hard +will change. It was twelve years since she had last received a letter +from him. + +"And what do you believe?" + +"I think he lives, and that he wrote it, Mr. Neville. I'll tell you +God's truth about it as I believe it, because as I said before, I think +you are entitled to know the truth." + +"And what was done?" + +"I sent off to London,--to a friend I have." + +"And what did your friend say?" + +"He says there is a man calling himself Captain O'Hara." + +"And is that all?" + +"She got a second letter. She got it the very last day you was down +here. Pat Cleary took it up to her when you was out wid Miss Kate." + +"He wants money, I suppose." + +"Just that, Mr. Neville." + +"It makes a difference;--doesn't it?" + +"How does it make a difference?" + +"Well; it does. I wonder you don't see it. You must see it." From that +moment Father Marty said in his heart that Kate O'Hara had lost her +husband. Not that he admitted for a moment that Captain O'Hara's return, +if he had returned, would justify the lover in deserting the girl; but +that he perceived that Neville had already allowed himself to entertain +the plea. The whole affair had in the priest's estimation been full of +peril; but then the prize to be won was very great! From the first he +had liked the young man, and had not doubted,--did not now doubt,--but +that if once married he would do justice to his wife. Even though +Kate should fail and should come out of the contest with a scorched +heart,--and that he had thought more than probable,--still the prize was +very high and the girl he thought was one who could survive such a blow. +Latterly, in that respect he had changed his opinion. Kate had shewn +herself to be capable of so deep a passion that he was now sure that +she would be more than scorched should the fire be one to injure and +not to cherish her. But the man's promises had been so firm, so often +reiterated, were so clearly written, that the priest had almost dared to +hope that the thing was assured. Now, alas, he perceived that the embryo +English lord was already looking for a means of escape, and already +thought that he had found it in this unfortunate return of the father. +The whole extent of the sorrow even the priest did not know. But he was +determined to fight the battle to the very last. The man should make the +girl his wife, or he, Father Marty, parish priest of Liscannor, would +know the reason why. He was a man who was wont to desire to know the +reason why, as to matters which he had taken in hand. But when he heard +the words which Neville spoke and marked the tone in which they were +uttered he felt that the young man was preparing for himself a way of +escape. + +"I don't see that it should make any difference," he said shortly. + +"If the man be disreputable,--" + +"The daughter is not therefore disreputable. Her position is not +changed." + +"I have to think of my friends." + +"You should have thought of that before you declared yourself to her, +Mr. Neville." How true this was now, the young man knew better than +the priest, but that, as yet, was his own secret. "You do not mean to +tell me that because the father is not all that he should be, she is +therefore to be thrown over. That cannot be your idea of honour. Have +you not promised that you would make her your wife?" The priest stopped +for an answer, but the young man made him none. "Of course you have +promised her." + +"I suppose she has told you so." + +"To whom should she tell her story? To whom should she go for advice? +But it was you who told me so, yourself." + +"Never." + +"Did you not swear to me that you would not injure her? And why should +there have been any talk with you and me about her, but that I saw +what was coming? When a young man like you chooses to spend his hours +day after day and week after week with such a one as she is, with a +beautiful young girl, a sweet innocent young lady, so sweet as to make +even an ould priest like me feel that the very atmosphere she breathes +is perfumed and hallowed, must it not mean one of two things;--that he +desires to make her his wife or else,--or else something so vile that +I will not name it in connection with Kate O'Hara? Then as her mother's +friend, and as hers,--as their only friend near them, I spoke out +plainly to you, and you swore to me that you intended no harm to her." + +"I would not harm her for the world." + +"When you said that, you told me as plainly as you could spake that she +should be your wife. With her own mouth she never told me. Her mother +has told me. Daily Mrs. O'Hara has spoken to me of her hopes and fears. +By the Lord above me whom I worship, and by His Son in whom I rest all +my hopes, I would not stand in your shoes if you intend to tell that +woman that after all that has passed you mean to desert her child." + +"Who has talked of deserting?" asked Neville angrily. + +"Say that you will be true to her, that you will make her your wife +before God and man, and I will humbly ask your pardon." + +"All that I say is that this Captain O'Hara's coming is a nuisance." + +"If that be all, there is an end of it. It is a nuisance. Not that I +suppose he ever will come. If he persists she must send him a little +money. There shall be no difficulty about that. She will never ask you +to supply the means of keeping her husband." + +"It isn't the money. I think you hardly understand my position, Father +Marty." It seemed to Neville that if it was ever his intention to open +out his scheme to the priest, now was his time for doing so. They had +come to the cross roads at which one way led down to the village and to +Father Marty's house, and the other to the spot on the beach where the +boat would be waiting. "I can't very well go on to Liscannor," said +Neville. + +"Give me your word before we part that you will keep your promise to +Miss O'Hara," said the priest. + +"If you will step on a few yards with me I will tell you just how I am +situated." Then the priest assented, and they both went on towards the +beach, walking very slowly. "If I alone were concerned, I would give +up everything for Miss O'Hara. I am willing to give up everything as +regards myself. I love her so dearly that she is more to me than all the +honours and wealth that are to come to me when my uncle dies." + +"What is to hinder but that you should have the girl you love and your +uncle's honours and wealth into the bargain?" + +"That is just it." + +"By the life of me I don't see any difficulty. You're your own masther. +The ould Earl can't disinherit you if he would." + +"But I am bound down." + +"How bound? Who can bind you?" + +"I am bound not to make Miss O'Hara Countess of Scroope." + +"What binds you? You are bound by a hundred promises to make her your +wife." + +"I have taken an oath that no Roman Catholic shall become Countess +Scroope as my wife." + +"Then, Mr. Neville, let me tell you that you must break your oath." + +"Would you have me perjure myself?" + +"Faith I would. Perjure yourself one way you certainly must, av' you've +taken such an oath as that, for you've sworn many oaths that you would +make this Catholic lady your wife. Not make a Roman Catholic Countess of +Scroope! It's the impudence of some of you Prothestants that kills me +entirely. As though we couldn't count Countesses against you and beat +you by chalks! I ain't the man to call hard names, Mr. Neville; but if +one of us is upstarts, it's aisy seeing which. Your uncle's an ould man, +and I'm told nigh to his latter end. I'm not saying but what you should +respect even his wakeness. But you'll not look me in the face and tell +me that afther what's come and gone that young lady is to be cast on one +side like a plucked rose, because an ould man has spoken a foolish word, +or because a young man has made a wicked promise." + +They were now standing again, and Fred raised his hat and rubbed his +forehead as he endeavoured to arrange the words in which he could best +propose his scheme to the priest. He had not yet escaped from the idea +that because Father Marty was a Roman Catholic priest, living in a +village in the extreme west of Ireland, listening night and day to the +roll of the Atlantic and drinking whisky punch, therefore he would be +found to be romantic, semi-barbarous, and perhaps more than semi-lawless +in his views of life. Irish priests have been made by chroniclers of +Irish story to do marvellous things; and Fred Neville thought that +this priest, if only the matter could be properly introduced, might +be persuaded to do for him something romantic, something marvellous, +perhaps something almost lawless. In truth it might have been difficult +to find a man more practical or more honest than Mr. Marty. And then +the difficulty of introducing the subject was very great. Neville stood +with his face a little averted, rubbing his forehead as he raised his +sailor's hat. "If you could only read my heart," he said, "you'd know +that I am as true as steel." + +"I'd be lothe to doubt it, Mr. Neville." + +"I'd give up everything to call Kate my own." + +"But you need give up nothing, and yet have her all your own." + +"You say that because you don't completely understand. It may as well be +taken for granted at once that she can never be Countess of Scroope." + +"Taken for granted!" said the old man as the fire flashed out of his +eyes. + +"Just listen to me for one moment. I will marry her to-morrow, or at any +time you may fix, if a marriage can be so arranged that she shall never +be more than Mrs. Neville." + +"And what would you be?" + +"Mr. Neville." + +"And what would her son be?" + +"Oh;--just the same,--when he grew up. Perhaps there wouldn't be a son." + +"God forbid that there should on those terms. You intend that your +children and her children shall be--bastards. That's about it, Mr. +Neville." The romance seemed to vanish when the matter was submitted +to him in this very prosaic manner. "As to what you might choose to +call yourself, that would be nothing to me and not very much I should +say, to her. I believe a man needn't be a lord unless he likes to be a +lord;--and needn't call his wife a countess. But, Mr. Neville, when you +have married Miss O'Hara, and when your uncle shall have died, there can +be no other Countess of Scroope, and her child must be the heir to your +uncle's title." + +"All that I could give her except that, she should have." + +"But she must have that. She must be your wife before God and man, and +her children must be the children of honour and not of disgrace." +Ah,--if the priest had known it all! + +"I would live abroad with her, and her mother should live with us." + +"You mean that you would take Kate O'Hara as your misthress! And you +make this as a proposal to me! Upon my word, Mr. Neville, I don't think +that I quite understand what it is that you're maning to say to me. Is +she to be your wife?" + +"Yes," said Neville, urged by the perturbation of his spirit to give a +stronger assurance than he had intended. + +"Then must her son if she have one be the future Earl of Scroope. He may +be Protesthant,--or what you will?" + +"You don't understand me, Father Marty." + +"Faith, and that's thrue. But we are at the baich, Mr. Neville, and I've +two miles along the coast to Liscannor." + +"Shall I make Barney take you round in the canoe?" + +"I believe I may as well walk it. Good-bye, Mr. Neville. I'm glad at any +rate to hear you say so distinctly that you are resolved at all hazards +to make that dear girl your wife." This he said, almost in a whisper, +standing close to the boat, with his hand on Neville's shoulder. He +paused a moment as though to give special strength to his words, and +Neville did not dare or was not able to protest against the assertion. +Father Marty himself was certainly not romantic in his manner of +managing such an affair as this in which they were now both concerned. + +Neville went back to Ennis much depressed, turning the matter over in +his mind almost hopelessly. This was what had come from his adventures! +No doubt he might marry the girl,--postponing his marriage till after +his uncle's death. For aught he knew as yet that might still be +possible. But were he to do so, he would disgrace his family, and +disgrace himself by breaking the solemn promise he had made. And in such +case he would be encumbered, and possibly be put beyond the pale of that +sort of life which should be his as Earl of Scroope, by having Captain +O'Hara as his father-in-law. He was aware now that he would be held by +all his natural friends to have ruined himself by such a marriage. + +On the other hand he could, no doubt, throw the girl over. They could +not make him marry her though they could probably make him pay very +dearly for not doing so. If he could only harden his heart sufficiently +he could escape in that way. But he was not hard, and he did feel that +so escaping, he would have a load on his breast which would make his +life unendurable. Already he was beginning to hate the coast of Ireland, +and to think that the gloom of Scroope Manor was preferable to it. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +FRED NEVILLE RECEIVES A VISITOR AT ENNIS. + + +For something over three weeks after his walk with the priest Neville +saw neither of the two ladies of Ardkill. Letters were frequent between +the cottage and the barracks at Ennis, but,--so said Fred himself, +military duties detained him with the troop. He explained that he had +been absent a great deal, and that now Captain Johnstone was taking his +share of ease. He was all alone at the barracks, and could not get away. +There was some truth in this, created perhaps by the fact that as he +didn't stir, Johnstone could do so. Johnstone was backwards and forwards, +fishing at Castle Connel, and Neville was very exact in explaining that +for the present he was obliged to give up all the delights of the coast. +But the days were days of trial to him. + +A short history of the life of Captain O'Hara was absolutely sent to +him by the Countess of Scroope. The family lawyer, at the instance of +the Earl,--as she said, though probably her own interference had been +more energetic than that of the Earl,--had caused enquiries to be made. +Captain O'Hara, the husband of the lady who was now living on the coast +of County Clare, and who was undoubtedly the father of the Miss O'Hara +whom Fred knew, had passed at least ten of the latter years of his +life at the galleys in the south of France. He had been engaged in +an extensive swindling transaction at Bordeaux, and had thence been +transferred to Toulon, had there been maintained by France,--and was now +in London. The Countess in sending this interesting story to her nephew +at Ennis, with ample documentary evidence, said that she was sure that +he would not degrade his family utterly by thinking of allying himself +with people who were so thoroughly disreputable; but that, after all +that was passed, his uncle expected from him a renewed assurance on the +matter. He answered this in anger. He did not understand why the history +of Captain O'Hara should have been raked up. Captain O'Hara was nothing +to him. He supposed it had come from Castle Quin, and anything from +Castle Quin he disbelieved. He had given a promise once and he didn't +understand why he should be asked for any further assurance. He +thought it very hard that his life should be made a burden to him by +foul-mouthed rumours from Castle Quin. That was the tenour of his letter +to his aunt; but even that letter sufficed to make it almost certain +that he could never marry the girl. He acknowledged that he had bound +himself not to do so. And then, in spite of all that he said about the +mendacity of Castle Quin, he did believe the little history. And it +was quite out of the question that he should marry the daughter of a +returned galley-slave. He did not think that any jury in England would +hold him to be bound by such a promise. Of course he would do whatever +he could for his dear Kate; but, even after all that had passed, he +could not pollute himself by marriage with the child of so vile a +father. Poor Kate! Her sufferings would have been occasioned not by him, +but by her father. + +In the meantime Kate's letters to him became more and more frequent, +more and more sad,--filled ever with still increasing warmth of +entreaty. At last they came by every post, though he knew how difficult +it must be for her to find daily messengers into Ennistimon. Would he +not come and see her? He must come and see her. She was ill and would +die unless he came to her. He did not always answer these letters, but +he did write to her perhaps twice a week. He would come very soon,--as +soon as Johnstone had come back from his fishing. She was not to fret +herself. Of course he could not always be at Ardkill. He too had things +to trouble him. Then he told her he had received letters from home which +caused him very much trouble; and there was a something of sharpness +in his words, which brought from her a string of lamentations in +which, however, the tears and wailings did not as yet take the form +of reproaches. Then there came a short note from Mrs. O'Hara herself. +"I must beg that you will come to Ardkill at once. It is absolutely +necessary for Kate's safety that you should do so." + +When he received this he thought that he would go on the morrow. When +the morrow came he determined to postpone the journey another day! The +calls of duty are so much less imperious than those of pleasure! On that +further day he still meant to go, as he sat about noon unbraced, only +partly dressed in his room at the barracks. His friend Johnstone was back +in Ennis, and there was also a Cornet with the troop. He had no excuse +whatever on the score of military duty for remaining at home on that +day. But he sat idling his time, thinking of things. All the charm of +the adventure was gone. He was sick of the canoe and of Barney Morony. +He did not care a straw for the seals or wild gulls. The moaning of the +ocean beneath the cliff was no longer pleasurable to him,--and as to the +moaning at their summit, to tell the truth, he was afraid of it. The +long drive thither and back was tedious to him. He thought now more of +the respectability of his family than of the beauty of Kate O'Hara. + +But still he meant to go,--certainly would go on this very day. He had +desired that his gig should be ready, and had sent word to say that he +might start at any moment. But still he sat in his dressing-gown at +noon, unbraced, with a novel in his hand which he could not read, and a +pipe by his side which he could not smoke. Close to him on the table lay +that record of the life of Captain O'Hara, which his aunt had sent him, +every word of which he had now examined for the third or fourth time. Of +course he could not marry the girl. Mrs. O'Hara had deceived him. She +could not but have known that her husband was a convict;--and had kept +the knowledge back from him in order that she might allure him to the +marriage. Anything that money could do, he would do. Or, if they would +consent, he would take the girl away with him to some sunny distant +clime, in which adventures might still be sweet, and would then devote +to her--some portion of his time. He had not yet ruined himself, but +he would indeed ruin himself were he, the heir to the earldom of +Scroope, to marry the daughter of a man who had been at the French +galleys! He had just made up his mind that he would be firm in this +resolution,--when the door opened and Mrs. O'Hara entered his room. +"Mrs. O'Hara." + +She closed the door carefully behind her before she spoke, excluding the +military servant who had wished to bar her entrance. "Yes, sir; as you +would not come to us I have been forced to come to you. I know it all. +When will you make my child your wife?" + +Yes. In the abjectness of her misery the poor girl had told her mother +the story of her disgrace; or, rather, in her weakness had suffered her +secret to fall from her lips. That terrible retribution was to come upon +her which, when sin has been mutual, falls with so crushing a weight +upon her who of the two sinners has ever been by far the less sinful. +She, when she knew her doom, simply found herself bound by still +stronger ties of love to him who had so cruelly injured her. She was his +before; but now she was more than ever his. To have him near her, to +give her orders that she might obey them, was the consolation that she +coveted,--the only consolation that could have availed anything to her. +To lean against him, and to whisper to him, with face averted, with +half-formed syllables, some fervent words that might convey to him a +truth which might be almost a joy to her if he would make it so,--was +the one thing that could restore hope to her bosom. Let him come and be +near to her, so that she might hide her face upon his breast. But he +came not. He did not come, though, as best she knew how, she had thrown +all her heart into her letters. Then her spirit sank within her, and she +sickened, and as her mother knelt over her, she allowed her secret to +fall from her. + +Fred Neville's sitting-room at Ennis was not a chamber prepared for the +reception of ladies. It was very rough, as are usually barrack rooms in +outlying quarters in small towns in the west of Ireland,--and it was +also very untidy. The more prudent and orderly of mankind might hardly +have understood why a young man, with prospects and present wealth such +as belonged to Neville, should choose to spend a twelvemonth in such a +room, contrary to the wishes of all his friends, when London was open +to him, and the continent, and scores of the best appointed houses in +England, and all the glories of ownership at Scroope. There were guns +about, and whips, hardly half a dozen books, and a few papers. There +were a couple of swords lying on a table that looked like a dresser. The +room was not above half covered with its carpet, and though there were +three large easy chairs, even they were torn and soiled. But all this +had been compatible with adventures,--and while the adventures were +simply romantic and not a bit troublesome, the barracks at Ennis had +been to him by far preferable to the gloomy grandeur of Scroope. + +And now Mrs. O'Hara was there, telling him that she knew of all! Not for +a moment did he remain ignorant of the meaning of her communication. And +now the arguments to be used against him in reference to the marriage +would be stronger than ever. A silly, painful smile came across his +handsome face as he attempted to welcome her, and moved a chair for her +accommodation. "I am so sorry that you have had the trouble of coming +over," he said. + +"That is nothing. When will you make my child your wife?" How was he to +answer this? In the midst of his difficulties he had brought himself to +one determination. He had resolved that under no pressure would he marry +the daughter of O'Hara, the galley-slave. As far as that, he had seen +his way. Should he now at once speak of the galley-slave, and, with +expressions of regret, decline the alliance on that reason? Having +dishonoured this woman's daughter should he shelter himself behind the +dishonour of her husband? That he meant to do so ultimately is true; +but at the present moment such a task would have required a harder +heart than his. She rose from her chair and stood close over him as she +repeated her demand, "When will you make my child your wife?" + +"You do not want me to answer you at this moment?" + +"Yes;--at this moment. Why not answer me at once? She has told me all. +Mr. Neville, you must think not only of her, but of your child also." + +"I hope not that," he said. + +"I tell you that it is so. Now answer me. When shall my Kate become your +wife?" + +He still knew that any such consummation as that was quite out of the +question. The mother herself as she was now present to him, seemed to +be a woman very different from the quiet, handsome, high-spirited, but +low-voiced widow whom he had known, or thought that he had known, at +Ardkill. Of her as she had there appeared to him he had not been ashamed +to think as one who might at some future time be personally related to +himself. He had recognized her as a lady whose outward trappings, poor +though they might be, were suited to the seclusion in which she lived. +But now, although it was only to Ennis that she had come from her nest +among the rocks, she seemed to be unfitted for even so much intercourse +with the world as that. And in the demand which she reiterated over him +she hardly spoke as a lady would speak. Would not all they who were +connected with him at home have a right to complain if he were to bring +such a woman with him to England as the mother of his wife. "I can't +answer such a question as that on the spur of the moment," he said. + +"You will not dare to tell me that you mean to desert her?" + +"Certainly not. I was coming over to Ardkill this very day. The trap is +ordered. I hope Kate is well?" + +"She is not well. How should she be well?" + +"Why not? I didn't know. If there is anything that she wants that I can +get for her, you have only to speak." + +In the utter contempt which Mrs. O'Hara now felt for the man she +probably forgot that his immediate situation was one in which it was +nearly impossible that any man should conduct himself with dignity. +Having brought himself to his present pass by misconduct, he could +discover no line of good conduct now open to him. Moralists might tell +him that let the girl's parentage be what it might, he ought to marry +her; but he was stopped from that, not only by his oath, but by a +conviction that his highest duty required him to preserve his family +from degradation. And yet to a mother, with such a demand on her lips +as that now made by Mrs. O'Hara,--whose demand was backed by such +circumstances,--how was it possible that he should tell the truth and +plead the honour of his family? His condition was so cruel that it was +no longer possible to him to be dignified or even true. The mother again +made her demand. "There is one thing that you must do for her before +other things can be thought of. When shall she become your wife?" + +It was for a moment on his tongue to tell her that it could not be so +while his uncle lived;--but to this he at once felt that there were two +objections, directly opposed to each other, but each so strong as to +make any such reply very dangerous. It would imply a promise, which he +certainly did not intend to keep, of marrying the girl when his uncle +should be dead; and, although promising so much more than he intended +to perform, would raise the ungovernable wrath of the woman before him. +That he should now hesitate,--now, in her Kate's present condition,--as +to redeeming those vows of marriage which he had made to her in her +innocence, would raise a fury in the mother's bosom which he feared to +encounter. He got up and walked about the room, while she stood with her +eyes fixed upon him, ever and anon reiterating her demand. "No day must +now be lost. When will you make my child your wife?" + +At last he made a proposition to which she assented. The tidings +which she had brought him had come upon him very suddenly. He was +inexpressibly pained. Of course Kate, his dearest Kate, was everything +to him. Let him have that afternoon to think about it. On the morrow he +would assuredly visit Ardkill. The mother, full of fears, resolving that +should he attempt to play her girl false and escape from her she would +follow him to the end of the world, but feeling that at the present +moment she could not constrain him, accepted his repeated promise as to +the following day; and at last left him to himself. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +NEVILLE'S SUCCESS. + + +Neville sat in his room alone, without moving, for a couple of hours +after Mrs. O'Hara had left him. In what way should he escape from the +misery and ruin which seemed to surround him? An idea did cross his +mind that it would be better for him to fly and write the truth from +the comparatively safe distance of his London club. But there would +be a meanness in such conduct which would make it impossible that he +should ever again hold up his head. The girl had trusted to him, and by +trusting to him had brought herself to this miserable pass. He could +not desert her. It would be better that he should go and endure all +the vials of their wrath than that. To her he would still be tenderly +loving, if she would accept his love without the name which he could not +give her. His whole life he would sacrifice to her. Every luxury which +money could purchase he would lavish on her. He must go and make his +offer. The vials of wrath which would doubtless be poured out upon his +head would not come from her. In his heart of hearts he feared both +the priest and the mother. But there are moments in which a man feels +himself obliged to encounter all that he most fears;--and the man who +does not do so in such moments is a coward. + +He quite made up his mind to start early on the following morning; but +the intermediate hours were very sad and heavy, and his whole outlook +into life was troublesome to him. How infinitely better would it have +been for him had he allowed himself to be taught a twelvemonth since +that his duty required him to give up the army at once! But he had made +his bed, and now he must lie upon it. There was no escape from this +journey to Ardkill. Even though he should be stunned by their wrath he +must endure it. + +He breakfasted early the next day, and got into his gig before nine. +He must face the enemy, and the earlier that he did it the better. His +difficulty now lay in arranging the proposition that he would make and +the words that he should speak. Every difficulty would be smoothed and +every danger dispelled if he would only say that he would marry the girl +as quickly as the legal forms would allow. Father Marty, he knew, would +see to all that, and the marriage might be done effectually. He had +quite come to understand that Father Marty was practical rather than +romantic. But there would be cowardice in this as mean as that other +cowardice. He believed himself to be bound by his duty to his family. +Were he now to renew his promise of marriage, such renewal would be +caused by fear and not by duty, and would be mean. They should tear him +piecemeal rather than get from him such a promise. Then he thought of +the Captain, and perceived that he must make all possible use of the +Captain's character. Would anybody conceive that he, the heir of the +Scroope family, was bound to marry the daughter of a convict returned +from the galleys? And was it not true that such promise as he had made +had been obtained under false pretences? Why had he not been told of the +Captain's position when he first made himself intimate with the mother +and daughter? + +Instead of going as was his custom to Lahinch, and then rowing across +the bay and round the point, he drove his gig to the village of +Liscannor. He was sick of Barney Morony and the canoe, and never desired +to see either of them again. He was sick indeed, of everything Irish, +and thought that the whole island was a mistake. He drove however boldly +through Liscannor and up to Father Marty's yard, and, not finding the +priest at home, there left his horse and gig. He had determined that +he would first go to the priest and boldly declare that nothing should +induce him to marry the daughter of a convict. But Father Marty was not +at home. The old woman who kept his house believed that he had gone into +Ennistown. He was away with his horse, and would not be back till dinner +time. Then Neville, having seen his own nag taken from the gig, started +on his walk up to Ardkill. + +How ugly the country was to his eyes as he now saw it. Here and there +stood a mud cabin, and the small, half-cultivated fields, or rather +patches of land, in which the thin oat crops were beginning to be +green, were surrounded by low loose ramshackle walls, which were little +more than heaps of stone, so carelessly had they been built and so +negligently preserved. A few cocks and hens with here and there a +miserable, starved pig seemed to be the stock of the country. Not a +tree, not a shrub, not a flower was there to be seen. The road was +narrow, rough, and unused. The burial ground which he passed was the +liveliest sign of humanity about the place. Then the country became +still wilder, and there was no road. The oats also ceased, and the +walls. But he could hear the melancholy moan of the waves, which he had +once thought to be musical and had often sworn that he loved. Now the +place with all its attributes was hideous to him, distasteful, and +abominable. At last the cottage was in view, and his heart sank very +low. Poor Kate! He loved her dearly through it all. He endeavoured to +take comfort by assuring himself that his heart was true to her. Not for +worlds would he injure her;--that is, not for worlds, had any worlds +been exclusively his own. On account of the Scroope world,--which was a +world general rather than particular,--no doubt he must injure her most +horribly. But still she was his dear Kate, his own Kate, his Kate whom +he would never desert. + +When he came up to the cottage the little gate was open, and he knew +that somebody was there besides the usual inmates. His heart at once +told him that it was the priest. His fate had brought him face to face +with his two enemies at once! His breath almost left him, but he knew +that he could not run away. However bitter might be the vials of wrath +he must encounter them. So he knocked at the outer door and, after his +custom, walked into the passage. Then he knocked again at the door of +the one sitting-room,--the door which hitherto he had always passed with +the conviction that he should bring delight,--and for a moment there was +no answer. He heard no voice and he knocked again. The door was opened +for him, and as he entered he met Father Marty. But he at once saw that +there was another man in the room, seated in an arm chair near the +window. Kate, his Kate, was not there, but Mrs. O'Hara was standing at +the head of the sofa, far away from the window and close to the door. +"It is Mr. Neville," said the priest. "It is as well that he should come +in." + +"Mr. Neville," said the man rising from his chair, "I am informed that +you are a suitor for the hand of my daughter. Your prospects in life are +sufficient, sir, and I give my consent." + +The man was a thing horrible to look at, tall, thin, cadaverous, +ill-clothed, with his wretched and all but ragged overcoat buttoned +close up to his chin, with long straggling thin grizzled hair, +red-nosed, with a drunkard's eyes, and thin lips drawn down at the +corners of the mouth. This was Captain O'Hara; and if any man ever +looked like a convict returned from work in chains, such was the +appearance of this man. This was the father of Fred's Kate;--the man +whom it was expected that he, Frederic Neville, the future Earl of +Scroope, should take as his father-in-law! "This is Captain O'Hara," +said the priest. But even Father Marty, bold as he was, could not assume +the voice with which he had rebuked Neville as he walked with him, now +nearly a month ago, down to the beach. + +Neville did feel that the abomination of the man's appearance +strengthened his position. He stood looking from one to another, while +Mrs. O'Hara remained silent in the corner. "Perhaps," said he, "I had +better not be here. I am intruding." + +"It is right that you should know it all," said the priest. "As regards +the young lady it cannot now alter your position. This gentleman must +be--arranged for." + +"Oh, certainly," said the Captain. "I must be--arranged for, and that so +soon as possible." The man spoke with a slightly foreign accent and in +a tone, as Fred thought, which savoured altogether of the galleys. "You +have done me the honour, I am informed, to make my daughter all your +own. These estimable people assure me that you hasten to make her your +wife on the instant. I consent. The O'Haras, who are of the very oldest +blood in Europe, have always connected themselves highly. Your uncle +is a most excellent nobleman whose hand I shall be proud to grasp." As +he thus spoke he stalked across the room to Fred, intending at once to +commence the work of grasping the Neville family. + +"Get back," said Fred, retreating to the door. + +"Is it that you fail to believe that I am your bride's father?" + +"I know not whose father you may be. Get back." + +"He is what he says he is," said the priest. "You should bear with him +for a while." + +"Where is Kate?" demanded Fred. It seemed as though, for the moment, +he were full of courage. He looked round at Mrs. O'Hara, but nobody +answered him. She was still standing with her eyes fixed upon the +man, almost as though she thought that she could dart out upon him and +destroy him. "Where is Kate?" he asked again. "Is she well?" + +"Well enough to hide herself from her old father," said the Captain, +brushing a tear from his eye with the back of his hand. + +"You shall see her presently, Mr. Neville," said the priest. + +Then Neville whispered a word into the priest's ear. "What is it that +the man wants?" + +"You need not regard that," said Father Marty. + +"Mr. Marty," said the Captain, "you concern yourself too closely in my +affairs. I prefer to open my thoughts and desires to my son-in-law. He +has taken measures which give him a right to interfere in the family. +Ha, ha, ha." + +"If you talk like that I'll stab you to the heart," said Mrs. O'Hara, +jumping forward. Then Fred Neville perceived that the woman had a dagger +in her hand which she had hitherto concealed from him as she stood up +against the wall behind the head of the sofa. He learnt afterwards that +the priest, having heard in Liscannor of the man's arrival, had hurried +up to the cottage, reaching it almost at the same moment with the +Captain. Kate had luckily at the moment been in her room and had not +seen her father. She was still in her bed and was ill;--but during the +scene that occurred afterwards she roused herself. But Mrs. O'Hara, +even in the priest's presence, had at once seized the weapon from the +drawer,--showing that she was prepared even for murder, had murder been +found necessary by her for her relief. The man had immediately asked as +to the condition of his daughter, and the mother had learned that her +child's secret was known to all Liscannor. The priest now laid his hand +upon her and stopped her, but he did it in all gentleness. "You'll have +a fierce pig of a mother-in-law, Mr. Neville," said the Captain, "but +your wife's father,--you'll find him always gentle and open to reason. +You were asking what I wanted." + +"Had I not better give him money?" suggested Neville. + +"No," said the priest shaking his head. + +"Certainly," said Captain O'Hara. + +"If you will leave this place at once," said Neville, "and come to me +to-morrow morning at the Ennis barracks, I will give you money." + +"Give him none," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"My beloved is unreasonable. You would not be rid of me even were he to +be so hard. I should not die. Have I not proved to you that I am one +whom it is hard to destroy by privation. The family has been under a +cloud. A day of sunshine has come with this gallant young nobleman. Let +me partake the warmth. I will visit you, Mr. Neville, certainly;--but +what shall be the figure?" + +"That will be as I shall find you then." + +"I will trust you. I will come. The journey hence to Ennis is long for +one old as I am, and would be lightened by so small a trifle as--shall +I say a bank note of the meanest value." Upon this Neville handed him +two bank notes for L1 each, and Captain O'Hara walked forth out of his +wife's house. + +"He will never leave you now," said the priest. + +"He cannot hurt me. I will arrange with some man of business to pay him +a stipend as long as he never troubles our friend here. Though all the +world should know it, will it not be better so?" + +Great and terrible is the power of money. When this easy way out of +their immediate difficulties had been made by the rich man, even +Mrs. O'Hara with all her spirit was subdued for the moment, and the +reproaches of the priest were silenced for that hour. The young man +had seemed to behave well, had stood up as the friend of the suffering +women, and had been at any rate ready with his money. "And now," he +said, "where is Kate?" Then Mrs. O'Hara took him by the hand and led +him into the bedroom in which the poor girl had buried herself from her +father's embrace. "Is he gone?" she asked before even she would throw +herself into her lover's arms. + +"Neville has paid him money," said the mother. + +"Yes, he has gone," said Fred; "and I think,--I think that he will +trouble you no more." + +"Oh, Fred, oh, my darling, oh, my own one. At last, at last you have +come to me. Why have you stayed away? You will not stay away again? Oh, +Fred, you do love me? Say that you love me." + +"Better than all the world," he said pressing her to his bosom. + +He remained with her for a couple of hours, during which hardly a word +was said to him about his marriage. So great had been the effect upon +them all of the sudden presence of the Captain, and so excellent had +been the service rendered them by the trust which the Captain had placed +in the young man's wealth, that for this day both priest and mother were +incapacitated from making their claim with the vigour and intensity of +purpose which they would have shewn had Captain O'Hara not presented +himself at the cottage. The priest left them soon,--but not till it had +been arranged that Neville should go back to Ennis to prepare for his +reception of the Captain, and return to the cottage on the day after +that interview was over. He assumed on a sudden the practical views of +a man of business. He would take care to have an Ennis attorney with +him when speaking to the Captain, and would be quite prepared to go to +the extent of two hundred a year for the Captain's life, if the Captain +could be safely purchased for that money. "A quarter of it would do," +said Mrs. O'Hara. The priest thought L2 a week would be ample. "I'll be +as good as my word," said Fred. Kate sat looking into his face thinking +that he was still a god. + +"And you will certainly be here by noon on Sunday?" said Kate, clinging +to him when he rose to go. + +"Most certainly." + +"Dear, dear Fred." And so he walked down the hill to the priest's house +almost triumphantly. He thought himself fortunate in not finding the +priest who had ridden off from Ardkill to some distant part of the +parish;--and then drove himself back to Ennis. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +FRED NEVILLE IS AGAIN CALLED HOME TO SCROOPE. + + +Neville was intent upon business, and had not been back in Ennis from +the cottage half an hour before he obtained an introduction to an +attorney. He procured it through the sergeant-major of the troop. The +sergeant-major was intimate with the innkeeper, and the innkeeper was +able to say that Mr. Thaddeus Crowe was an honest, intelligent, and +peculiarly successful lawyer. Before he sat down to dinner Fred Neville +was closeted at the barracks with Mr. Crowe. + +He began by explaining to Mr. Crowe who he was. This he did in order +that the attorney might know that he had the means of carrying out his +purpose. Mr. Crowe bowed, and assured his client that on that score he +had no doubts whatever. Nevertheless Mr. Crowe's first resolve, when he +heard of the earldom and of the golden prospects, was to be very careful +not to pay any money out of his own pocket on behalf of the young +officer, till he made himself quite sure that it would be returned to +him with interest. As the interview progressed, however, Mr. Crowe began +to see his way, and to understand that the golden prospects were not +pleaded because the owner of them was himself short of cash. Mr. Crowe +soon understood the whole story. He had heard of Captain O'Hara, and +believed the man to be as thorough a blackguard as ever lived. When +Neville told the attorney of the two ladies, and of the anxiety which he +felt to screen them from the terrible annoyance of the Captain's visits, +Mr. Crowe smiled, but made no remark. "It will be enough for you to know +that I am in earnest about it," said the future Earl, resenting even the +smile. Mr. Crowe bowed, and asked his client to finish the story. "The +man is to be with me to-morrow, here, at twelve, and I wish you to be +present. Mr. Crowe, my intention is to give him two hundred pounds a +year as long as he lives." + +"Two hundred a year!" said the Ennis attorney, to whom such an annuity +seemed to be exorbitant as the purchase-money for a returned convict. + +"Yes;--I have already mentioned that sum to his wife, though not to +him." + +"I should reconsider it, Mr. Neville." + +"Thank you;--but I have made up my mind. The payments will be made of +course only on condition that he troubles neither of the ladies either +personally or by letter. It might be provided that it shall be paid to +him weekly in France, but will not be paid should he leave that country. +You will think of all this, and will make suggestions to-morrow. I shall +be glad to have the whole thing left in your hands, so that I need +simply remit the cheques to you. Perhaps I shall have the pleasure of +seeing you to-morrow at twelve." Mr. Crowe promised to turn the matter +over in his mind and to be present at the hour named. Neville carried +himself very well through the interview, assuming with perfect ease the +manners of the great and rich man who had only to give his orders with a +certainty that they would be obeyed. Mr. Crowe, when he went out from +the young man's presence, had no longer any doubt on his mind as to his +client's pecuniary capability. + +On the following day at twelve o'clock, Captain O'Hara, punctual to the +minute, was at the barracks; and there also sitting in Neville's room, +was the attorney. But Neville himself was not there, and the Captain +immediately felt that he had been grossly imposed upon and swindled. +"And who may I have the honour of addressing, when I speak to you, sir?" +demanded the Captain. + +"I am a lawyer." + +"And Mr. Neville,--my own son-in-law,--has played me that trick!" + +Mr. Crowe explained that no trick had been played, but did so in +language which was no doubt less courteous than would have been used had +Mr. Neville been present. As, however, the cause of our hero's absence +is more important to us than the Captain's prospects that must be first +explained. + +As soon as the attorney left him Neville had sat down to dinner with his +two brother officers, but was not by any means an agreeable companion. +When they attempted to joke with him as to the young lady on the +cliffs, he showed very plainly that he did not like it; and when Cornet +Simpkinson after dinner raised his glass to drink a health to Miss +O'Hara, Mr. Neville told him that he was an impertinent ass. It was then +somewhat past nine, and it did not seem probable that the evening would +go off pleasantly. Cornet Simpkinson lit his cigar, and tried to wink +at the Captain. Neville stretched out his legs and pretended to go to +sleep. At this moment it was a matter of intense regret to him that he +had ever seen the West of Ireland. + +At a little before ten Captain Johnstone retired, and the Cornet attempted +an apology. He had not meant to say anything that Neville would not +like. "It doesn't signify, my dear boy; only as a rule, never mention +women's names," said Neville, speaking as though he were fully fitted by +his experience to lay down the law on a matter so delicate. "Perhaps one +hadn't better," said the Cornet,--and then that little difficulty was +over. Cornet Simpkinson however thought of it all afterwards, and felt +that that evening and that hour had been more important than any other +evening or any other hour in his life. + +At half-past ten, when Neville was beginning to think that he would take +himself to bed, and was still cursing the evil star which had brought +him to County Clare, there arose a clatter at the outside gate of the +small barrack-yard. A man had posted all the way down from Limerick and +desired to see Mr. Neville at once. The man had indeed come direct from +Scroope,--by rail from Dublin to Limerick, and thence without delay on +to Ennis. The Earl of Scroope was dead, and Frederic Neville was Earl of +Scroope. The man brought a letter from Miss Mellerby, telling him the +sad news and conjuring him in his aunt's name to come at once to the +Manor. Of course he must start at once for the Manor. Of course he must +attend as first mourner at his uncle's grave before he could assume his +uncle's name and fortune. + +In that first hour of his greatness the shock to him was not so great +but that he at once thought of the O'Haras. He would leave Ennis the +following morning at six, so as to catch the day mail train out of +Limerick for Dublin. That was a necessity; but though so very short a +span of time was left to him, he must still make arrangements about the +O'Haras. He had hardly heard the news half an hour before he himself +was knocking at the door of Mr. Crowe the attorney. He was admitted, +and Mr. Crowe descended to him in a pair of slippers and a very +old dressing-gown. Mr. Crowe, as he held his tallow candle up to +his client's face, looked as if he didn't like it. "I know I must +apologize," said Neville, "but I have this moment received news of my +uncle's death." + +"The Earl?" + +"Yes." + +"And I have now the honour of--speaking to the Earl of Scroope." + +"Never mind that. I must start for England almost immediately. I haven't +above an hour or two. You must see that man, O'Hara, without me." + +"Certainly, my lord." + +"You shouldn't speak to me in that way yet," said Neville angrily. "You +will be good enough to understand that the terms are fixed;--two hundred +a year as long, as he remains in France and never molests anyone either +by his presence or by letter. Thank you. I shall be so much obliged +to you! I shall be back here after the funeral, and will arrange about +payments. Good-night." + +So it happened that Captain O'Hara had no opportunity on that occasion +of seeing his proposed son-in-law. Mr. Crowe, fully crediting the power +confided to him, did as he was bidden. He was very harsh to the poor +Captain; but in such a condition a man can hardly expect that people +should not be harsh to him. The Captain endeavoured to hold up his head, +and to swagger, and to assume an air of pinchbeck respectability. But +the attorney would not permit it. He required that the man should own +himself to be penniless, a scoundrel, only anxious to be bought; and +the Captain at last admitted the facts. The figure was the one thing +important to him,--the figure and the nature of the assurance. Mr. Crowe +had made his calculations, and put the matter very plainly. A certain +number of francs,--a hundred francs,--would be paid to him weekly at any +town in France he might select,--which however would be forfeited by any +letter written either to Mrs. O'Hara, to Miss O'Hara, or to the Earl. + +"The Earl!" ejaculated the Captain. + +Mr. Crowe had been unable to refrain his tongue from the delicious +title, but now corrected himself. "Nor Mr. Neville, I mean. No one will +be bound to give you a farthing, and any letter asking for anything more +will forfeit the allowance altogether." The Captain vainly endeavoured +to make better terms, and of course accepted those proposed to him. He +would live in Paris,--dear Paris. He took five pounds for his journey, +and named an agent for the transmission of his money. + +And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. He had still one other task +to perform before he could make his journey home. He had to send tidings +in some shape to Ardkill of what had happened. As he returned to the +barracks from Mr. Crowe's residence he thought wholly of this. That +other matter was now arranged. As one item of the cost of his adventure +in County Clare he must pay two hundred a year to that reprobate, the +Captain, as long as the reprobate chose to live,--and must also pay Mr. +Crowe's bill for his assistance. This was a small matter to him as his +wealth was now great, and he was not a man by nature much prone to think +of money. Nevertheless it was a bad beginning of his life. Though he had +declared himself to be quite indifferent on that head, he did feel that +the arrangement was not altogether reputable,--that it was one which +he could not explain to his own man of business without annoyance, and +which might perhaps give him future trouble. Now he must prepare his +message for the ladies at Ardkill,--especially to the lady whom on his +last visit to the cottage he had found armed with a dagger for the +reception of her husband. And as he returned back to the barracks +it occurred to him that a messenger might be better than a letter. +"Simpkinson," he said, going at once into the young man's bed-room, +"have you heard what has happened to me?" Simpkinson had heard all about +it, and expressed himself as "deucedly sorry" for the old man's death, +but seemed to think that there might be consolation for that sorrow. "I +must go to Scroope immediately," said Neville. "I have explained it all +to Johnstone, and shall start almost at once. I shall first lie down and +get an hour's sleep. I want you to do something for me." Simpkinson was +devoted. Simpkinson would do anything. "I cut up a little rough just now +when you mentioned Miss O'Hara's name." Simpkinson declared that he did +not mind it in the least, and would never pronounce the name again as +long as he lived. "But I want you to go and see her to-morrow," said +Neville. Then Simpkinson sat bolt upright in bed. + +Of course the youthful warrior undertook the commission. What youthful +warrior would not go any distance to see a beautiful young lady on a +cliff, and what youthful warrior would not undertake any journey to +oblige a brother officer who was an Earl? Full instructions were at once +given to him. He had better ask to see Mrs. O'Hara,--in describing whom +Neville made no allusion to the dagger. He was told how to knock at +the door, and send in word by the servant to say that he had called on +behalf of Mr. Neville. He was to drive as far as Liscannor, and then get +some boy to accompany him on foot as a guide. He would not perhaps mind +walking two or three miles. Simpkinson declared that were it ten he +would not mind it. He was then to tell Mrs. O'Hara--just the truth. He +was to say that a messenger had come from Scroope announcing the death +of the Earl, and that Neville had been obliged to start at once for +England. + +"But you will be back?" said Simpkinson. + +Neville paused a moment. "Yes, I shall be back, but don't say anything +of that to either of the ladies." + +"Must I say I don't know? They'll be sure to ask, I should say." + +"Of course they'll ask. Just tell them that the whole thing has been +arranged so quickly that nothing has been settled, but that they shall +hear from me at once. You can say that you suppose I shall be back, but +that I promised that I would write. Indeed that will be the exact truth, +as I don't at all know what I may do. Be as civil to them as possible." + +"That's of course." + +"They are ladies, you know." + +"I supposed that." + +"And I am most desirous to do all in my power to oblige them. You can +say that I have arranged that other matter satisfactorily." + +"That other matter?" + +"They'll understand. The mother will at least, and you'd better say that +to her. You'll go early." + +"I'll start at seven if you like." + +"Eight or nine will do. Thank you, Simpkinson. I'm so much obliged to +you. I hope I shall see you over in England some day when things are a +little settled." With this Simpkinson was delighted,--as he was also +with the commission entrusted to him. + +And so Fred Neville was the Earl of Scroope. Not that he owned even to +himself that the title and all belonging to it were as yet in his own +possession. Till the body of the old man should be placed in the family +vault he would still be simply Fred Neville, a lieutenant in Her +Majesty's 20th Hussars. As he travelled home to Scroope, to the old +gloomy mansion which was now in truth not only his home, but his own +house, to do just as he pleased with it, he had much to fill his mind. +He was himself astonished to find with how great a weight his new +dignities sat upon his shoulders, now that they were his own. But a +few months since he had thought and even spoken of shifting them from +himself to another, so that he might lightly enjoy a portion of the +wealth which would belong to him without burdening himself with the +duties of his position. He would take his yacht, and the girl he loved, +and live abroad, with no present record of the coronet which would have +descended to him, and with no assumption of the title. But already that +feeling had died away within him. A few words spoken to him by the +priest and a few serious thoughts within his own bosom had sufficed to +explain to him that he must be the Earl of Scroope. The family honours +had come to him, and he must support them,--either well or ill as his +strength and principles might govern him. And he did understand that it +was much to be a peer, an hereditary legislator, one who by the chance +of his birth had a right to look for deferential respect even from his +elders. It was much to be the lord of wide acres, the ruler of a large +domain, the landlord of many tenants who would at any rate regard +themselves as dependent on his goodness. It was much to be so placed +that no consideration of money need be a bar to any wish,--that the +considerations which should bar his pleasures need be only those of +dignity, character, and propriety. His uncle had told him more than once +how much a peer of England owed to his country and to his order;--how +such a one is bound by no ordinary bonds to a life of high resolves, and +good endeavours. "Sans reproche" was the motto of his house, and was +emblazoned on the wall of the hall that was now his own. If it might be +possible to him he would live up to it and neither degrade his order nor +betray his country. + +But as he thought of all this, he thought also of Kate O'Hara. With what +difficulties had he surrounded the commencement of this life which he +purposed to lead! How was he to escape from the mess of trouble which he +had prepared for himself by his adventures in Ireland. An idea floated +across his mind that very many men who stand in their natural manhood +high in the world's esteem, have in their early youth formed ties such +as that which now bound him to Kate O'Hara,--that they have been silly +as he had been, and had then escaped from the effects of their folly +without grievous damage. But yet he did not see his mode of escape. If +money could do it for him he would make almost any sacrifice. If wealth +and luxury could make his Kate happy, she should be happy as a Princess. +But he did not believe either of her or of her mother that any money +would be accepted as a sufficient atonement. And he hated himself for +suggesting to himself that it might be possible. The girl was good, and +had trusted him altogether. The mother was self-denying, devoted, and +high-spirited. He knew that money would not suffice. + +He need not return to Ireland unless he pleased. He could send over some +agent to arrange his affairs, and allow the two women to break their +hearts in their solitude upon the cliffs. Were he to do so he did not +believe that they would follow him. They would write doubtless, but +personally he might, probably, be quit of them in this fashion. But +in this there would be a cowardice and a meanness which would make it +impossible that he should ever again respect himself. + +And thus he again entered Scroope, the lord and owner of all that he saw +around him,--with by no means a happy heart or a light bosom. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +THE EARL OF SCROOPE IS IN TROUBLE. + + +Not a word was said to the young lord on his return home respecting the +O'Haras till he himself had broached the subject. He found his brother +Jack Neville at Scroope on his arrival, and Sophie Mellerby was still +staying with his aunt. A day had been fixed for the funeral, but no one +had ventured to make any other arrangement till the heir and owner +should be there. He was received with solemn respect by the old servants +who, as he observed, abstained from calling him by any name. They knew +that it did not become them to transfer the former lord's title to the +heir till all that remained of the former lord should be hidden from the +world in the family vault; but they could not bring themselves to +address a real Earl as Mr. Neville. His aunt was broken down by sorrow, +but nevertheless, she treated him with a courtly deference. To her he +was now the reigning sovereign among the Nevilles, and all Scroope and +everything there was at his disposal. When he held her by the hand and +spoke of her future life she only shook her head. "I am an old woman, +though not in years old as was my lord. But my life is done, and it +matters not where I go." + +"Dear aunt, do not speak of going. Where can you be so well as here?" +But she only shook her head again and wept afresh. Of course it would +not be fitting that she should remain in the house of the young Earl who +was only her nephew by marriage. Scroope Manor would now become a house +of joy, would be filled with the young and light of heart; there would +be feasting there and dancing; horses neighing before the doors, throngs +of carriages, new furniture, bright draperies, and perhaps, alas, loud +revellings. It would not be fit that such a one as she should be at +Scroope now that her lord had left her. + +The funeral was an affair not of pomp but of great moment in those +parts. Two or three Nevilles from other counties came to the house, as +did also sundry relatives bearing other names. Mr. Mellerby was there, +and one or two of the late Earl's oldest friends; but the great +gathering was made up of the Scroope tenants, not one of whom failed to +see his late landlord laid in his grave. "My Lord," said an old man to +Fred, one who was himself a peer and was the young lord's cousin though +they two had never met before, "My Lord," said the old man, as soon as +they had returned from the grave, "you are called upon to succeed as +good a man as ever it has been my lot to know. I loved him as a brother. +I hope you will not lightly turn away from his example." Fred made some +promise which at the moment he certainly intended to perform. + +On the next morning the will was read. There was nothing in it, nor +could there have been anything in it, which might materially affect the +interests of the heir. The late lord's widow was empowered to take away +from Scroope anything that she desired. In regard to money she was +provided for so amply that money did not matter to her. A whole year's +income from the estates was left to the heir in advance, so that he +might not be driven to any momentary difficulty in assuming the +responsibilities of his station. A comparatively small sum was left to +Jack Neville, and a special gem to Sophie Mellerby. There were bequests +to all the servants, a thousand pounds to the vicar of the +parish,--which perhaps was the only legacy which astonished the +legatee,--and his affectionate love to every tenant on the estate. All +the world acknowledged that it was as good a will as the Earl could have +made. Then the last of the strangers left the house, and the Earl of +Scroope was left to begin his reign and do his duty as best he might. + +Jack had promised to remain with him for a few days, and Sophie +Mellerby, who had altogether given up her London season, was to stay +with the widow till something should be settled as to a future +residence. "If my aunt will only say that she will keep the house for a +couple of years, she shall have it," said Fred to the young +lady,--perhaps wishing to postpone for so long a time the embarrassment +of the large domain; but to this Lady Scroope would not consent. If +allowed she would remain till the end of July. By that time she would +find herself a home. + +"For the life of me, I don't know how to begin my life," said the new +peer to his brother as they were walking about the park together. + +"Do not think about beginning it at all. You won't be angry, and will +know what I mean, when I say that you should avoid thinking too much of +your own position." + +"How am I to help thinking of it? It is so entirely changed from what it +was." + +"No Fred,--not entirely; nor as I hope, is it changed at all in those +matters which are of most importance to you. A man's self, and his ideas +of the manner in which he should rule himself, should be more to him +than any outward accidents. Had that cousin of ours never died--" + +"I almost wish he never had." + +"It would then have been your ambition to live as an honourable +gentleman. To be that now should be more to you than to be an Earl and a +man of fortune." + +"It's very easy to preach, Jack. You were always good at that. But here +I am, and what am I to do? How am I to begin? Everybody says that I am +to change nothing. The tenants will pay their rents, and Burnaby will +look after things outside, and Mrs. Bunce will look after the things +inside, and I may sit down and read a novel. When the gloom of my +uncle's death has passed away, I suppose I shall buy a few more horses +and perhaps begin to make a row about the pheasants. I don't know what +else there is to do." + +"You'll find that there are duties." + +"I suppose I shall. Something is expected of me. I am to keep up the +honour of the family; but it really seems to me that the best way of +doing so would be to sit in my uncle's arm chair and go to sleep as he +did." + +"As a first step in doing something you should get a wife for yourself. +If once you had a settled home, things would arrange themselves round +you very easily." + +"Ah, yes;--a wife. You know, Jack, I told you about that girl in County +Clare." + +"You must let nothing of that kind stand in your way." + +"Those are your ideas of high moral grandeur! Just now my own personal +conduct was to be all in all to me, and the rank nothing. Now I am to +desert a girl I love because I am an English peer." + +"What has passed between you and the young lady, of course I do not +know." + +"I may as well tell you the whole truth," said Fred. And he told it. He +told it honestly,--almost honestly. It is very hard for a man to tell a +story truly against himself, but he intended to tell the whole truth. +"Now what must I do? Would you have me marry her?" Jack Neville paused +for a long time. "At any rate you can say yes, or no." + +"It is very hard to say yes, or no." + +"I can marry no one else. I can see my way so far. You had better tell +Sophie Mellerby everything, and then a son of yours shall be the future +Earl." + +"We are both of us young as yet, Fred, and need not think of that. If +you do mean to marry Miss O'Hara you should lose not a day;--not a day." + +"But what if I don't. You are always very ready with advice, but you +have given me none as yet." + +"How can I advise you? I should have heard the very words in which you +made your promise before I could dare to say whether it should be kept +or broken. As a rule a man should keep his word." + +"Let the consequences be what they may?" + +"A man should keep his word certainly. And I know no promise so solemn +as that made to a woman when followed by conduct such as yours has +been." + +"And what will people say then as to my conduct to the family? How will +they look on me when I bring home the daughter of that scoundrel?" + +"You should have thought of that before." + +"But I was not told. Do you not see that I was deceived there. Mrs. +O'Hara clearly said that the man was dead. And she told me nothing of +the galleys." + +"How could she tell you that?" + +"But if she has deceived me, how can I be expected to keep my promise? I +love the girl dearly. If I could change places with you, I would do so +this very minute, and take her away with me, and she should certainly be +my wife. If it were only myself, I would give up all to her. I would, by +heaven. But I cannot sacrifice the family. As to solemn promises, did I +not swear to my uncle that I would not disgrace the family by such a +marriage? Almost the last word that I spoke to him was that. Am I to be +untrue to him? There are times in which it seems impossible that a man +should do right." + +"There are times in which a man may be too blind to see the right," said +Jack,--sparing his brother in that he did not remind him that those +dilemmas always come from original wrong-doing. + +"I think I am resolved not to marry her," said Fred. + +"If I were in your place I think I should marry her," said Jack;--"but I +will not speak with certainty even of myself." + +"I shall not. But I will be true to her all the same. You may be sure +that I shall not marry at all." Then he recurred to his old scheme. "If +I can find any mode of marrying her in some foreign country, so that her +son and mine shall not be the legitimate heir to the title and estates, +I would go there at once with her, though it were to the further end of +the world. You can understand now what I mean when I say that I do not +know how to begin." Jack acknowledged that in that matter he did +understand his brother. It is always hard for a man to commence any new +duty when he knows that he has a millstone round his neck which will +probably make that duty impracticable at last. + +He went on with his life at Scroope for a week after the funeral without +resolving upon anything, or taking any steps towards solving the O'Hara +difficulty. He did ride about among the tenants, and gave some trifling +orders as to the house and stables. His brother was still with him, and +Miss Mellerby remained at the Manor. But he knew that the thunder-cloud +must break over his head before long, and at last the storm was +commenced. The first drops fell upon him in the soft form of a letter +from Kate O'Hara. + + + DEAREST FRED, + + I am not quite sure that I ought to address you like that; but + I always shall unless you tell me not. We have been expecting a + letter from you every day since you went. Your friend from Ennis + came here, and brought us the news of your uncle's death. We + were very sorry; at least I was certainly. I liked to think of + you a great deal better as my own Fred, than as a great lord. + But you will still be my own Fred always; will you not? + + Mother said at once that it was a matter of course that you + should go to England; but your friend, whose name we never heard, + said that you had sent him especially to promise that you would + write quite immediately, and that you would come back very soon. + I do not know what he will think of me, because I asked him + whether he was quite, quite sure that you would come back. If he + thinks that I love you better than my own soul, he only thinks + the truth. + + Pray,--pray write at once. Mother is getting vexed because there + is no letter. I am never vexed with my own darling love, but I + do so long for a letter. If you knew how I felt, I do think you + would write almost every day,--if it were only just one short + word. If you would say, 'Dear Love,' that would be enough. And + pray come. Oh do, do, pray come! Cannot you think how I must + long to see you! The gentleman who came here said that you would + come, and I know you will. But pray come soon. Think, now, how + you are all the world to me. You are more than all the world to + me. + + I am not ill as I was when you were here. But I never go outside + the door now. I never shall go outside the door again till you + come. I don't care now for going out upon the rocks. I don't care + even for the birds as you are not here to watch them with me. I + sit with the skin of the seal you gave me behind my head, and I + pretend to sleep. But though I am quite still for hours I am not + asleep, but thinking always of you. + + We have neither seen or heard anything more of my father, + and Father Marty says that you have managed about that very + generously. You are always generous and good. I was so wretched + all that day, that I thought I should have died. You will not + think ill of your Kate, will you, because her father is bad? + + Pray write when you get this, and above all things let us know + when you will come to us. + + Always, always, and always, + + Your own + + KATE. + + +Two days after this, while the letter was still unanswered, there came +another from Mrs. O'Hara which was, if possible, more grievous to him +than that from her daughter. + +"My Lord," the letter began. When he read this he turned from it with a +sickening feeling of disgust. Of course the woman knew that he was now +Earl of Scroope; but it would have been so desirable that there should +have been no intercourse between her and him except under the name by +which she had hitherto known him. And then in the appellation as she +used it there seemed to be a determination to reproach him which must, +he knew, lead to great misery. + + + MY LORD, + + The messenger you sent to us brought us good news, and told us + that you were gone home to your own affairs. That I suppose was + right, but why have you not written to us before this? Why have + you not told my poor girl that you will come to her, and atone + to her for the injury you have done in the only manner now + possible? I cannot and do not believe that you intend to evade + the solemn promises that you have made her, and allow her to + remain here a ruined outcast, and the mother of your child. I + have thought you to be both a gentleman and a christian, and I + still think so. Most assuredly you would be neither were you + disposed to leave her desolate, while you are in prosperity. + + I call upon you, my lord, in the most solemn manner, with all + the energy and anxiety of a mother,--of one who will be of all + women the most broken-hearted if you wrong her,--to write at + once and let me know when you will be here to keep your promise. + For the sake of your own offspring I implore you not to delay. + + We feel under deep obligations to you for what you did in + respect of that unhappy man. We have never for a moment doubted + your generosity. + + Yours, My Lord, + + With warmest affection, if you will admit it, + + C. O'HARA. + + P.S. I ask you to come at once and keep your word. Were you to + think of breaking it, I would follow you through the world. + + +The young Earl, when he received this, was not at a loss for a moment to +attribute the body of Mrs. O'Hara's letter to Father Marty's power of +composition, and the postscript to the unaided effort of the lady +herself. Take it as he might--as coming from Mrs. O'Hara or from the +priest,--he found the letter to be a great burden to him. He had not as +yet answered the one received from Kate, as to the genuineness of which +he had entertained no doubt. How should he answer such letters? Some +answer must of course be sent, and must be the forerunner of his future +conduct. But how should he write his letter when he had not as yet +resolved what his conduct should be? + +He did attempt to write a letter, not to either of the ladies, but to +the priest, explaining that in the ordinary sense of the word he could +not and would not marry Miss O'Hara, but that in any way short of that +legitimate and usual mode of marriage, he would bind himself to her, and +that when so bound he would be true to her for life. He would make any +settlement that he, Father Marty, might think right either upon the +mother or upon the daughter. But Countess of Scroope the daughter of +that Captain O'Hara should not become through his means. Then he +endeavoured to explain the obligation laid upon him by his uncle, and +the excuse which he thought he could plead in not having been informed +of Captain O'Hara's existence. But the letter when written seemed to him +to be poor and mean, cringing and at the same time false. He told +himself that it would not suffice. It was manifest to him that he must +go back to County Clare, even though he should encounter Mrs. O'Hara, +dagger in hand. What was any personal danger to himself in such an +affair as this? And if he did not fear a woman's dagger, was he to fear +a woman's tongue,--or the tongue of a priest? So he tore the letter, and +resolved that he would write and name a day on which he would appear at +Ardkill. At any rate such a letter as that might be easily written, and +might be made soft with words of love. + + + DEAREST KATE, + + I will be with you on the 15th or on the 16th at latest. You + should remember that a man has a good deal to do and think of + when he gets pitchforked into such a new phase of life as mine. + Do not, however, think that I quarrel with you, my darling. + That I will never do. My love to your mother. + + Ever your own, + + FRED. + + I hate signing the other name. + + +This letter was not only written but sent. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +SANS REPROCHE. + + +Three or four days after writing his letter to Kate O'Hara, the Earl +told his aunt that he must return to Ireland, and he named the day on +which he would leave Scroope. "I did not think that you would go back +there," she said. He could see by the look of her face and by the +anxious glance of her eye that she had in her heart the fear of Kate +O'Hara,--as he had also. + +"I must return. I came away at a moment's notice." + +"But you have written about leaving the regiment." + +"Yes;--I have done that. In the peculiar circumstances I don't suppose +they will want me to serve again. Indeed I've had a letter, just a +private note, from one of the fellows at the Horse Guards explaining all +that." + +"I don't see why you should go at all;--indeed I do not." + +"What am I to do about my things? I owe some money. I've got three or +four horses there. My very clothes are all about just as I left them +when I came away." + +"Any body can manage all that. Give the horses away." + +"I had rather not give away my horses," he said laughing. "The fact is I +must go." She could urge nothing more to him on that occasion. She did +not then mention the existence of Kate O'Hara. But he knew well that she +was thinking of the girl, and he knew also that the activity of Lady +Mary Quin had not slackened. But his aunt, he thought, was more afraid +of him now that he was the Earl than she had been when he was only the +heir; and it might be that this feeling would save him from the mention +of Kate O'Hara's name. + +To some extent the dowager was afraid of her nephew. She knew at least +that the young man was all-powerful and might act altogether as he +listed. In whatever she might say she could not now be supported by the +authority of the Lord of Scroope. He himself was lord of Scroope; and +were he to tell her simply to hold her tongue and mind her own business +she could only submit. But she was not the woman to allow any sense of +fear, or any solicitude as to the respect due to herself, to stand in +the way of the performance of a duty. It may be declared on her behalf +that had it been in her nephew's power to order her head off in +punishment for her interference, she would still have spoken had she +conceived it to be right to speak. + +But within her own bosom there had been dreadful conflicts as to that +duty. Lady Mary Quin had by no means slackened her activity. Lady Mary +Quin had learned the exact condition of Kate O'Hara, and had sent the +news to her friend with greedy rapidity. And in sending it Lady Mary +Quin entertained no slightest doubt as to the duty of the present Earl +of Scroope. According to her thinking it could not be the duty of an +Earl of Scroope in any circumstances to marry a Kate O'Hara. There are +women, who in regard to such troubles as now existed at Ardkill cottage, +always think that the woman should be punished as the sinner and that +the man should be assisted to escape. The hardness of heart of such +women,--who in all other views of life are perhaps tender and +soft-natured,--is one of the marvels of our social system. It is as +though a certain line were drawn to include all women,--a line, but, +alas, little more than a line,--by overstepping which, or rather by +being known to have overstepped it, a woman ceases to be a woman in the +estimation of her own sex. That the existence of this feeling has strong +effect in saving women from passing the line, none of us can doubt. That +its general tendency may be good rather than evil, is possible. But the +hardness necessary to preserve the rule, a hardness which must be +exclusively feminine but which is seldom wanting, is a marvellous +feature in the female character. Lady Mary Quin probably thought but +little on the subject. The women in the cottage on the cliff, who were +befriended by Father Marty, were to her dangerous scheming Roman +Catholic adventurers. The proper triumph of Protestant virtue required +that they should fail in their adventures. She had always known that +there would be something disreputable heard of them sooner or later. +When the wretched Captain came into the neighbourhood,--and she soon +heard of his coming,--she was gratified by feeling that her convictions +had been correct. When the sad tidings as to poor Kate reached her ears, +she had "known that it would be so." That such a girl should be made +Countess of Scroope in reward for her wickedness would be to her an +event horrible, almost contrary to Divine Providence,--a testimony that +the Evil One was being allowed peculiar power at the moment, and would +no doubt have been used in her own circles to show the ruin that had +been brought upon the country by Catholic emancipation. She did not for +a moment doubt that the present Earl should be encouraged to break any +promises of marriage to the making of which he might have been allured. + +But it was not so with Lady Scroope. She, indeed, came to the same +conclusion as her friend, but she did so with much difficulty and after +many inward struggles. She understood and valued the customs of the +magic line. In her heart of hearts she approved of a different code of +morals for men and women. That which merited instant, and as regarded +this world, perpetual condemnation in a woman, might in a man be very +easily forgiven. A sigh, a shake of the head, and some small innocent +stratagem that might lead to a happy marriage and settlement in life +with increased income, would have been her treatment of such sin for the +heirs of the great and wealthy. She knew that the world could not afford +to ostracise the men,--though happily it might condemn the women. +Nevertheless, when she came to the single separated instance, though her +heart melted with no ruth for the woman,--in such cases the woman must +be seen before the ruth is felt,--though pity for Kate O'Hara did not +influence her, she did acknowledge the sanctity of a gentleman's word. +If, as Lady Mary told her, and as she could so well believe, the present +Earl of Scroope had given to this girl a promise that he would marry +her, if he had bound himself by his pledged word, as a nobleman and a +gentleman, how could she bid him become a perjured knave? Sans reproche! +Was he thus to begin to live and to deserve the motto of his house by +the conduct of his life? + +But then the evil that would be done was so great! She did not for a +moment doubt all that Lady Mary told her about the girl. The worst of it +had indeed been admitted. She was a Roman Catholic, ill-born, +ill-connected, damaged utterly by a parent so low that nothing lower +could possibly be raked out of the world's gutters. And now the girl +herself was--a castaway. Such a marriage as that of which Lady Mary +spoke would not only injure the house of Scroope for the present +generation, but would tend to its final downfall. Would it not be known +throughout all England that the next Earl of Scroope would be the +grandson of a convict? Might there not be questions as to the legitimacy +of the assumed heir? She herself knew of noble families which had been +scattered, confounded, and almost ruined by such imprudence. Hitherto +the family of Scroope had been continued from generation to generation +without stain,--almost without stain. It had felt it to be a fortunate +thing that the late heir had died because of the pollution of his +wretched marriage. And now must evil as bad befall it, worse evil +perhaps, through the folly of this young man? Must that proud motto be +taken down from its place in the hall from very shame? But the evil had +not been done yet, and it might be that her words could save the house +from ruin and disgrace. + +She was a woman of whom it may be said that whatever difficulty she +might have in deciding a question she could recognise the necessity of a +decision and could abide by it when she had made it. It was with great +difficulty that she could bring herself to think that an Earl of Scroope +should be false to a promise by which he had seduced a woman, but she +did succeed in bringing herself to such thought. Her very heart bled +within her as she acknowledged the necessity. A lie to her was +abominable. A lie, to be told by herself, would have been hideous to +her. A lie to be told by him, was worse. As virtue, what she called +virtue, was the one thing indispensable to women, so was truth the one +thing indispensable to men. And yet she must tell him to lie, and having +resolved so to tell him, must use all her intellect to defend the +lie,--and to insist upon it. + +He was determined to return to Ireland, and there was nothing that she +could do to prevent his return. She could not bid him shun a danger +simply because it was a danger. He was his own master, and were she to +do so he would only laugh at her. Of authority with him she had none. If +she spoke, he must listen. Her position would secure so much to her from +courtesy,--and were she to speak of the duty which he owed to his name +and to the family he could hardly laugh. She therefore sent to him a +message. Would he kindly go to her in her own room? Of course he +attended to her wishes and went. "You mean to leave us to-morrow, Fred," +she said. We all know the peculiar solemnity of a widow's dress,--the +look of self-sacrifice on the part of the woman which the dress creates; +and have perhaps recognised the fact that if the woman be deterred by no +necessities of oeconomy in her toilet,--as in such material +circumstances the splendour is more perfect if splendour be the +object,--so also is the self-sacrifice more abject. And with this widow +an appearance of melancholy solemnity, almost of woe, was natural to +her. She was one whose life had ever been serious, solemn, and sad. +Wealth and the outward pomp of circumstances had conferred upon her a +certain dignity; and with that doubtless there had reached her some +feeling of satisfaction. Religion too had given her comfort, and a +routine of small duties had saved her from the wretchedness of ennui. +But life with her had had no laughter, and had seldom smiled. Now in the +first days of her widowhood she regarded her course as run, and looked +upon herself as one who, in speaking, almost spoke from the tomb. All +this had its effect upon the young lord. She did inspire him with a +certain awe; and though her weeds gave her no authority, they did give +her weight. + +"Yes; I shall start to-morrow," he replied. + +"And you still mean to go to Ireland?" + +"Yes;--I must go to Ireland. I shan't stay there, you know." + +Then she paused a moment before she proceeded. "Shall you see--that +young woman when you are there?" + +"I suppose I shall see her." + +"Pray do not think that I desire to interfere with your private affairs. +I know well that I have no right to assume over you any of that +affectionate authority which a mother might have,--though in truth I +love you as a son." + +"I would treat you just as I would my own mother." + +"No, Fred; that cannot be so. A mother would throw her arms round you +and cling to you if she saw you going into danger. A mother would follow +you, hoping that she might save you." + +"But there is no danger." + +"Ah, Fred, I fear there is." + +"What danger?" + +"You are now the head of one of the oldest and the noblest families in +this which in my heart I believe to be the least sinful among the sinful +nations of the wicked world." + +"I don't quite know how that may be;--I mean about the world. Of course +I understand about the family." + +"But you love your country?" + +"Oh yes. I don't think there's any place like England,--to live in." + +"And England is what it is because there are still some left among us +who are born to high rank and who know how to live up to the standard +that is required of them. If ever there was such a man, your uncle was +such a one." + +"I'm sure he was;--just what he ought to have been." + +"Honourable, true, affectionate, self-denying, affable to all men, but +ever conscious of his rank, giving much because much had been given to +him, asserting his nobility for the benefit of those around him, proud +of his order for the sake of his country, bearing his sorrows with the +dignity of silence, a nobleman all over, living on to the end sans +reproche! He was a man whom you may dare to imitate, though to follow +him may be difficult." She spoke not loudly, but clearly, looking him +full in the face as she stood motionless before him. + +"He was all that," said Fred, almost overpowered by the sincere +solemnity of his aunt's manner. + +"Will you try to walk in his footsteps?" + +"Two men can never be like one another in that way. I shall never be +what he was. But I'll endeavour to get along as well as I can." + +"You will remember your order?" + +"Yes, I will. I do remember it. Mind you, aunt, I am not glad that I +belong to it. I think I do understand about it all, and will do my best. +But Jack would have made a better Earl than I shall do. That's the +truth." + +"The Lord God has placed you,--and you must pray to Him that He will +enable you to do your duty in that state of life to which it has pleased +Him to call you. You are here and must bear his decree; and whether it +be a privilege to enjoy, you must enjoy it, or a burden to bear, you +must endure it." + +"It is so of course." + +"Knowing that, you must know also how incumbent it is upon you not to +defile the stock from which you are sprung." + +"I suppose it has been defiled," said Fred, who had been looking into +the history of the family. "The ninth Earl seems to have married nobody +knows whom. And his son was my uncle's grandfather." + +This was a blow to Lady Scroope, but she bore it with dignity and +courage. "You would hardly wish it to be said that you had copied the +only one of your ancestors who did amiss. The world was rougher then +than it is now, and he of whom you speak was a soldier." + +"I'm a soldier too," said the Earl. + +"Oh, Fred, is it thus you answer me! He was a soldier in rough times, +when there were wars. I think he married when he was with the army under +Marlborough." + +"I have not seen anything of that kind, certainly." + +"Your country is at peace, and your place is here, among your tenantry, +at Scroope. You will promise me, Fred, that you will not marry this girl +in Ireland?" + +"If I do, the fault will be all with that old maid at Castle Quin." + +"Do not say that, Fred. It is impossible. Let her conduct have been what +it may, it cannot make that right in you which would have been wrong, or +that wrong which would have been right." + +"She's a nasty meddlesome cat." + +"I will not talk about her. What good would it do? You cannot at any +rate be surprised at my extreme anxiety. You did promise your uncle most +solemnly that you would never marry this young lady." + +"If I did, that ought to be enough." He was now waxing angry and his +face was becoming red. He would bear a good deal from his uncle's widow, +but he felt his own power and was not prepared to bear much more. + +"Of course I cannot bind you. I know well how impotent I am,--how +powerless to exercise control. But I think, Fred, that for your uncle's +sake you will not refuse to repeat your promise to me, if you intend to +keep it. Why is it that I am so anxious? It is for your sake, and for +the sake of a name which should be dearer to you than it is even to me." + +"I have no intention of marrying at all." + +"Do not say that." + +"I do say it. I do not want to keep either you or Jack in the dark as to +my future life. This young lady,--of whom, by the by, neither you nor +Lady Mary Quin know anything, shall not become Countess of Scroope. To +that I have made up my mind." + +"Thank God." + +"But as long as she lives I will make no woman Countess of Scroope. Let +Jack marry this girl that he is in love with. They shall live here and +have the house to themselves if they like it. He will look after the +property and shall have whatever income old Mellerby thinks proper. I +will keep the promise I made to my uncle,--but the keeping of it will +make it impossible for me to live here. I would prefer now that you +should say no more on the subject." Then he left her, quitting the room +with some stateliness in his step, as though conscious that at such a +moment as this it behoved him to assume his rank. + +The dowager sat alone all that morning thinking of the thing she had +done. She did now believe that he was positively resolved not to marry +Kate O'Hara, and she believed also that she herself had fixed him in +that resolution. In doing so had she or had she not committed a deadly +sin? She knew almost with accuracy what had occurred on the coast of +Clare. A young girl, innocent herself up to that moment, had been +enticed to her ruin by words of love which had been hallowed in her ears +by vows of marriage. Those vows which had possessed so deadly an +efficacy, were now to be simply broken! The cruelty to her would be +damnable, devilish,--surely worthy of hell if any sin of man can be so +called! And she, who could not divest herself of a certain pride taken +in the austere morality of her own life, she who was now a widow anxious +to devote her life solely to God, had persuaded the man to this sin, in +order that her successor as Countess of Scroope might not be, in her +opinion, unfitting for nobility! The young lord had promised her that he +would be guilty of this sin, so damnable, so devilish, telling her as he +did so, that as a consequence of his promise he must continue to live a +life of wickedness! In the agony of her spirit she threw herself upon +her knees and implored the Lord to pardon her and to guide her. But even +while kneeling before the throne of heaven she could not drive the pride +of birth out of her heart. That the young Earl might be saved from the +damning sin and also from the polluting marriage;--that was the prayer +she prayed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +LOOSE ABOUT THE WORLD. + + +The Countess was seen no more on that day,--was no more seen at least by +either of the two brothers. Miss Mellerby was with her now and again, +but on each occasion only for a few minutes, and reported that Lady +Scroope was ill and could not appear at dinner. She would, however, see +her nephew before he started on the following morning. + +Fred himself was much affected by the interview with his aunt. No doubt +he had made a former promise to his uncle, similar to that which had now +been exacted from him. No doubt he had himself resolved, after what he +had thought to be mature consideration that he would not marry the girl, +justifying to himself this decision by the deceit which he thought had +been practised upon him in regard to Captain O'Hara. Nevertheless, he +felt that by what had now occurred he was bound more strongly against +the marriage than he had ever been bound before. His promise to his +uncle might have been regarded as being obligatory only as long as his +uncle lived. His own decision he would have been at liberty to change +when he pleased to do so. But, though his aunt was almost nothing to +him,--was not in very truth his aunt, but only the widow of his uncle, +there had been a solemnity about the engagement as he had now made +it with her, which he felt to be definitely binding. He must go to +Ardkill prepared to tell them absolutely the truth. He would make any +arrangement they pleased as to their future joint lives, so long as it +was an arrangement by which Kate should not become Countess of Scroope. +He did not attempt to conceal from himself the dreadful nature of the +task before him. He knew what would be the indignation of the priest. He +could picture to himself the ferocity of the mother, defending her young +as a lioness would her whelp. He could imagine that that dagger might +again be brought from its hiding place. And, worse than all, he would +see the girl prostrate in her woe, and appealing to his love and to his +oaths, when the truth as to her future life should be revealed to her. +But yet he did not think of shunning the task before him. He could not +endure to live a coward in his own esteem. + +He was unlike himself and very melancholy. "It has been so good of +you to remain here," he said to Sophie Mellerby. They had now become +intimate and almost attached to each other as friends. If she had +allowed a spark of hope to become bright within her heart in regard to +the young Earl that had long since been quenched. She had acknowledged +to herself that had it been possible in other respects they would not +have suited each other,--and now they were friends. + +"I love your aunt dearly and have been very glad to be with her." + +"I wish you would learn to love somebody else dearly." + +"Perhaps I shall, some day,--somebody else; though I don't at all know +who it may be." + +"You know whom I mean." + +"I suppose I do." + +"And why not love him? Isn't he a good fellow?" + +"One can't love all the good fellows, Lord Scroope." + +"You'll never find a better one than he is." + +"Did he commission you to speak for him?" + +"You know he didn't. You know that he would be the last man in the world +to do so?" + +"I was surprised." + +"But I had a reason for speaking." + +"No doubt." + +"I don't suppose it will have any effect with you;--but it is something +you ought to know. If any man of my age can be supposed to have made up +his mind on such a matter, you may believe that I have made up my mind +that I will--never marry." + +"What nonsense, Lord Scroope." + +"Well;--yes; perhaps it is. But I am so convinced of it myself that I +shall ask my brother to come and live here--permanently,--as master of +the place. As he would have to leave his regiment it would of course be +necessary that his position here should be settled,--and it shall be +settled." + +"I most sincerely hope that you will always live here yourself." + +"It won't suit me. Circumstances have made it impossible. If he will not +do so, nor my aunt, the house must be shut up. I am most anxious that +this should not be done. I shall implore him to remain here, and to be +here exactly as I should have been,--had things with me not have been so +very unfortunate. He will at any rate have a house to offer you, if--" + +"Lord Scroope!" + +"I know what you are going to say, Sophie." + +"I don't know that I am as yet disposed to marry for the sake of a house +to shelter me." + +"Of course you would say that; but still I think that I have been right +to tell you. I am sure you will believe my assurance that Jack knows +nothing of all this." + +That same evening he said nearly the same thing to his brother, though +in doing so he made no special allusion to Sophie Mellerby. "I know that +there is a great deal that a fellow should do, living in such a house as +this, but I am not the man to do it. It's a very good kind of life, if +you happen to be up to it. I am not, but you are." + +"My dear Fred, you can't change the accidents of birth." + +"In a great measure I can; or at least we can do so between us. You +can't be Lord Scroope, but you can be master of Scroope Manor." + +"No I can't;--and, which is more, I won't. Don't think I am uncivil." + +"You are uncivil, Jack." + +"At any rate I am not ungrateful. I only want you to understand +thoroughly that such an arrangement is out of the question. In no +condition of life would I care to be the locum tenens for another man. +You are now five or six and twenty. At thirty you may be a married man +with an absolute need for your own house." + +"I would execute any deed." + +"So that I might be enabled to keep the owner of the property out of the +only place that is fit for him! It is a power which I should not use, +and do not wish to possess. Believe me, Fred, that a man is bound to +submit himself to the circumstances by which he is surrounded, when it +is clear that they are beneficial to the world at large. There must be +an Earl of Scroope, and you at present are the man." + +They were sitting together out upon the terrace after dinner, and for a +time there was silence. His brother's arguments were too strong for the +young lord, and it was out of his power to deal with one so dogmatic. +But he did not forget the last words that had been spoken. It may be +that "I shall not be the man very long," he said at last. + +"Any of us may die to-day or to-morrow," said Jack. + +"I have a kind of presentiment,--not that I shall die, but that I shall +never see Scroope again. It seems as though I were certainly leaving for +ever a place that has always been distasteful to me." + +"I never believe anything of presentiments." + +"No; of course not. You're not that sort of fellow at all. But I am. I +can't think of myself as living here with a dozen old fogies about the +place all doing nothing, touching their hats, my-lording me at every +turn, looking respectable, but as idle as pickpockets." + +"You'll have to do it." + +"Perhaps I shall, but I don't think it." Then there was again silence +for a time. "The less said about it the better, but I know that I've got +a very difficult job before me in Ireland." + +"I don't envy you, Fred;--not that." + +"It is no use talking about it. It has got to be done, and the sooner +done the better. What I shall do when it is done, I have not the most +remote idea. Where I shall be living this day month I cannot guess. I +can only say one thing certainly, and that is that I shall not come back +here. There never was a fellow so loose about the world as I am." + +It was terrible that a young man who had it in his power to do so much +good or so much evil should have had nothing to bind him to the better +course! There was the motto of his house, and the promises which he had +made to his uncle persuading him to that which was respectable and as he +thought dull; and opposed to those influences there was an unconquerable +feeling on his own part that he was altogether unfitted for the kind +of life that was expected of him. Joined to this there was the fact of +that unfortunate connection in Ireland from which he knew that it would +be base to fly, and which, as it seemed to him, made any attempt at +respectability impossible to him. + +Early on the following morning, as he was preparing to start, his aunt +again sent for him. She came out to him in the sitting-room adjoining +her bedroom and there embraced him. Her eyes were red with weeping, and +her face wan with care. "Fred," she said; "dear Fred." + +"Good-bye, aunt. The last word I have to say is that I implore you not +to leave Scroope as long as you are comfortable here." + +"You will come back?" + +"I cannot say anything certain about that." + +She still had hold of him with both hands and was looking into his face +with loving, frightened, wistful eyes. "I know," she said, "that you +will be thinking of what passed between us yesterday." + +"Certainly I shall remember it." + +"I have been praying for you, Fred; and now I tell you to look to your +Father which is in Heaven for guidance, and not to take it from any poor +frail sinful human being. Ask Him to keep your feet steady in the path, +and your heart pure, and your thoughts free from wickedness. Oh, Fred, +keep your mind and body clear before Him, and if you will kneel to Him +for protection, He will show you a way through all difficulties." It was +thus that she intended to tell him that his promise to her, made on the +previous day, was to count for nought, and that he was to marry the girl +if by no other way he could release himself from vice. But she could not +bring herself to declare to him in plain terms that he had better marry +Kate O'Hara, and bring his new Countess to Scroope in order that she +might be fitly received by her predecessor. It might be that the Lord +would still show him a way out of the two evils. + +But his brother was more clear of purpose with him, as they walked +together out to the yard in which the young Earl was to get into his +carriage. "Upon the whole, Fred, if I were you I should marry that +girl." This he said quite abruptly. The young lord shook his head. "It +may be that I do not know all the circumstances. If they be as I have +heard them from you, I should marry her. Good-bye. Let me hear from you, +when you have settled as to going anywhere." + +"I shall be sure to write," said Fred as he took the reins and seated +him in the phaeton. + +His brother's advice he understood plainly, and that of his aunt he +thought that he understood. But he shook his head again as he told +himself that he could not now be guided by either of them. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AT LISCANNOR. + + +The young lord slept one night at Ennis, and on the third morning after +his departure from Scroope, started in his gig for Liscannor and the +cliffs of Moher. He took a servant with him and a change of clothes. And +as he went his heart was very heavy. He could not live a coward in his +own esteem. Were it not so how willingly would he have saved himself +from the misery of this journey, and have sent to his Kate to bid her +come to him in England! He feared the priest, and he feared his Kate's +mother;--not her dagger, but her eyes and scorching words. He altogether +doubted his own powers to perform satisfactorily the task before him. He +knew men who could do it. His brother Jack would do it, were it possible +that his brother Jack should be in such a position. But for himself, he +was conscious of a softness of heart, a feminine tenderness, which,--to +do him justice,--he did not mistake for sincerity, that rendered him +unfit for the task before him. The farther he journeyed from Scroope +and the nearer that he found himself to the cliffs the stronger did +the feeling grow within him, till it had become almost tragical in its +dominion over him. But still he went on. It was incumbent on him to pay +one more visit to the cliffs and he journeyed on. + +At Limerick he did not even visit the barracks to see his late +companions of the regiment. At Ennis he slept in his old room, and of +course the two officers who were quartered there came to him. But they +both declared when they left him that the Earl of Scroope and Fred +Neville were very different persons, attributing the difference solely +to the rank and wealth of the new peer. Poor Simpkinson had expected +long whispered confidential conversations respecting the ladies of +Ardkill; but the Earl had barely thanked him for his journey; and the +whispered confidence, which would have been so delightful, was at once +impossible. "By Heaven, there's nothing like rank to spoil a fellow. He +was a good fellow once." So spoke Captain Johnstone, as the two officers +retreated together from the Earl's room. + +And the Earl also saw Mr. Crowe the attorney. Mr. Crowe recognized at +its full weight the importance of a man whom he might now call "My Lord" +as often as he pleased, and as to whose pecuniary position he had made +some gratifying inquiries. A very few words sufficed. Captain O'Hara +had taken his departure, and the money would be paid regularly. Mr. +Crowe also noticed the stern silence of the man, but thought that it +was becoming in an Earl with so truly noble a property. Of the Castle +Quin people who could hardly do more than pay their way like country +gentlefolk, and who were mere Irish, Mr. Crowe did not think much. + +Every hour that brought the lord nearer to Liscannor added a weight to +his bosom. As he drove his gig along the bleak road to Ennistimon his +heart was very heavy indeed. At Maurice's mills, the only resting-place +on the road, it had been his custom to give his horse a mouthful of +water; but he would not do so now though the poor beast would fain +have stopped there. He drove the animal on ruthlessly, himself driven +by a feeling of unrest which would not allow him to pause. He hated +the country now, and almost told himself that he hated all whom it +contained. How miserable was his lot, that he should have bound himself +in the opening of his splendour, in the first days of a career that +might have been so splendid, to misfortune that was squalid and mean as +this. To him, to one placed by circumstances as he was placed, it was +squalid and mean. By a few soft words spoken to a poor girl whom he +had chanced to find among the rocks he had so bound himself with vile +manacles, had so crippled, hampered and fettered himself, that he +was forced to renounce all the glories of his station. Wealth almost +unlimited was at his command,--and rank, and youth, and such personal +gifts of appearance and disposition as best serve to win general love. +He had talked to his brother of his unfitness for his earldom; but he +could have blazoned it forth at Scroope and up in London, with the best +of young lords, and have loved well to do so. But this adventure, as he +had been wont to call it, had fallen upon him, and had broken him as it +were in pieces. Thousands a year he would have paid to be rid of his +adventure; but thousands a year, he knew well, were of no avail. He +might have sent over some English Mr. Crowe with offers almost royal; +but he had been able so to discern the persons concerned as to know that +royal offers, of which the royalty would be simply money royalty, could +be of no avail. How would that woman have looked at any messenger +who had come to her with offers of money,--and proposed to take her +child into some luxurious but disgraceful seclusion? And in what +language would Father Marty have expressed himself on such a proposed +arrangement? And so the Earl of Scroope drove on with his heart falling +ever lower and lower within his bosom. + +It had of course been necessary that he should form some plan. He +proposed to get rooms for one night at the little inn at Ennistimon, +to leave his gig there, and then to take one of the country cars on to +Liscannor. It would, he thought, be best to see the priest first. Let +him look at his task which way he would, he found that every part of it +was bad. An interview with Father Marty would be very bad, for he must +declare his intentions in such a way that no doubt respecting them must +be left on the priest's mind. He would speak only to three persons;--but +to all those three he must now tell the certain truth. There were causes +at work which made it impossible that Kate O'Hara should become Countess +of Scroope. They might tear him to pieces, but from that decision he +would not budge. Subject to that decision they might do with him and +with all that belonged to him almost as they pleased. He would explain +this first to the priest if it should chance that he found the priest at +home. + +He left his gig and servant at Ennistimon and proceeded as he had +intended along the road to Liscannor on an outside car. In the +mid-distance about two miles out of the town he met Father Marty riding +on the road. He had almost hoped,--nay, he had hoped,--that the priest +might not be at home. But here was the lion in his path. "Ah, my Lord," +said the priest in his sweetest tone of good humour,--and his tones when +he was so disposed were very sweet,--"Ah, my Lord, this is a sight good +for sore eyes. They tould me you were to be here to-day or to-morrow, +and I took it for granted therefore it 'd be the day afther. But you're +as good as the best of your word." The Earl of Scroope got off the car, +and holding the priest's hand, answered the kindly salutation. But he +did so with a constrained air and with a solemnity which the priest +also attributed to his newly-begotten rank. Fred Neville,--as he had +been a week or two since,--was almost grovelling in the dust before +the priest's eyes; but the priest for the moment thought that he was +wrapping himself up in the sables and ermine of his nobility. However, +he had come back,--which was more perhaps than Father Marty had +expected,--and the best must be made of him with reference to poor +Kate's future happiness. "You're going on to Ardkill, I suppose, my +Lord," he said. + +"Yes;--certainly; but I intended to take the Liscannor road on purpose +to see you. I shall leave the car at Liscannor and walk up. You could +not return, I suppose?" + +"Well,--yes,--I might." + +"If you could, Father Marty--" + +"Oh, certainly." The priest now saw that there was something more in the +man's manner than lordly pride. As the Earl got again up on his car, the +priest turned his horse, and the two travelled back through the village +without further conversation. The priest's horse was given up to the boy +in the yard, and he then led the way into the house. "We are not much +altered in our ways, are we, my Lord?" he said as he moved a bottle of +whiskey that stood on the sideboard. "Shall I offer you lunch?" + +"No, thank you, Father Marty;--nothing, thank you." Then he made a gasp +and began. The bad hour had arrived, and it must be endured. "I have +come back, as you see, Father Marty. That was a matter of course." + +"Well, yes, my Lord. As things have gone it was a matter of course." + +"I am here. I came as soon as it was possible that I should come. Of +course it was necessary that I should remain at home for some days after +what has occurred at Scroope." + +"No doubt;--no doubt. But you will not be angry with me for saying that +after what has occurred here, your presence has been most anxiously +expected. However here you are, and all may yet be well. As God's +minister I ought perhaps to upbraid. But I am not given to much +upbraiding, and I love that dear and innocent young face too well to +desire anything now but that the owner of it should receive at your +hands that which is due to her before God and man." + +He perceived that the priest knew it all. But how could he wonder at +this when that which ought to have been her secret and his had become +known even to Lady Mary Quin? And he understood well what the priest +meant when he spoke of that which was due to Kate O'Hara before God +and man; and he could perceive, or thought that he perceived, that the +priest did not doubt of the coming marriage, now that he, the victim, +was again back in the west of Ireland. And was he not the victim of a +scheme? Had he not been allured on to make promises to the girl which +he would not have made had the truth been told him as to her father? +He would not even in his thoughts accuse Kate,--his Kate,--of being +a participator in these schemes. But Mrs. O'Hara and the priest had +certainly intrigued against him. He must remember that. In the terrible +task which he was now compelled to begin he must build his defence +chiefly upon that. Yes; he must begin his work, now, upon the instant. +With all his golden prospects,--with all his golden honours already in +his possession,--he could wish himself dead rather than begin it. But he +could not die and have done it. "Father. Marty," he said, "I cannot make +Miss O'Hara Countess of Scroope." + +"Not make her Countess of Scroope! What will you make her then?" + +"As to that, I am here to discuss it with you." + +"What is it you main, sir? Afther you have had your will of her, and +polluted her sweet innocence, you will not make her your wife! You +cannot look me in the face, Mr. Neville, and tell me that." + +There the priest was right. The young Earl could not look him in the +face as he stammered out his explanation and proposal. The burly, strong +old man stood perfectly still and silent as he, with hesitating and +ill-arranged words, tried to gloze over and make endurable his past +conduct and intentions as to the future. He still held some confused +idea as to a form of marriage which should for all his life bind him +to the woman, but which should give her no claim to the title, and her +child no claim either to the title or the property. "You should have +told me of this Captain O'Hara," he said, as with many half-formed +sentences he completed his suggestions. + +"And it's on me you are throwing the blame?" + +"You should have told me, Father Marty." + +"By the great God above me, I did not believe that a man could be such +a villain! As I look for glory I did not think it possible! I should +have tould you! Neither did I nor did Mistress O'Hara know or believe +that the man was alive. And what has the man to do with it? Is she vile +because he has been guilty? Is she other than you knew her to be when +you first took her to your bosom, because of his sin?" + +"It does make a difference, Mr. Marty." + +"Afther what you have done it can make no difference. When you swore to +her that she should be your wife, and conquered her by so swearing, was +there any clause in your contract that you were not to be bound if you +found aught displaising to you in her parentage?" + +"I ought to have known it all." + +"You knew all that she knew;--all that I knew. You knew all that her +mother knew. No, Lord Scroope. It cannot be that you should be so +unutterably a villain. You are your own masther. Unsay what you have +said to me, and her ears shall never be wounded or her heart broken by +a hint of it." + +"I cannot make her Countess of Scroope. You are a priest, and can use +what words you please to me;--but I cannot make her Countess of +Scroope." + +"Faith,--and there will be more than words used, my young lord. As to +your plot of a counterfeit marriage,--" + +"I said nothing of a counterfeit marriage." + +"What was it you said, then? I say you did. You proposed to me,--to me a +priest of God's altar,--a false counterfeit marriage, so that those two +poor women, who you are afraid to face, might be cajoled and chaited and +ruined." + +"I am going to face them instantly." + +"Then must your heart be made of very stone. Shall I tell you the +consequences?" Then the priest paused awhile, and the young man, +bursting into tears, hid his face against the wall. "I will tell you the +consequences, Lord Scroope. They will die. The shame and sorrow which +you have brought on them, will bring them to their graves,--and so there +will be an end of their throubles upon earth. But while I live there +shall be no rest for the sole of your foot. I am ould, and may soon +be below the sod, but I will lave it as a legacy behind me that your +iniquity shall be proclaimed and made known in high places. While I live +I will follow you, and when I am gone there shall be another to take +the work. My curse shall rest on you,--the curse of a man of God, and +you shall be accursed. Now, if it suits you, you can go up to them at +Ardkill and tell them your story. She is waiting to receive her lover. +You can go to her, and stab her to the heart at once. Go, sir! Unless +you can change all this and alter your heart even as you hear my words, +you are unfit to find shelter beneath my roof." + +Having so spoken, waiting to see the effect of his indignation, the +priest went out, and got upon his horse, and went away upon his journey. +The young lord knew that he had been insulted, was aware that words had +been said to him so severe that one man, in his rank of life, rarely +utters them to another; and he had stood the while with his face turned +to the wall speechless and sobbing! The priest had gone, telling him +to leave the house because his presence disgraced it; and he had made +no answer. Yet he was the Earl of Scroope,--the thirteenth Earl of +Scroope,--a man in his own country full of honours. Why had he come +there to be called a villain? And why was the world so hard upon him +that on hearing himself so called he could only weep like a girl? Had he +done worse than other men? Was he not willing to make any retribution +for his fault,--except by doing that which he had been taught to think +would be a greater fault? As he left the house he tried to harden his +heart against Kate O'Hara. The priest had lied to him about her father. +They must have known that the man was alive. They had caught him among +them, and the priest's anger was a part of the net with which they had +intended to surround him. The stake for which they had played had been +very great. To be Countess of Scroope was indeed a chance worth some +risk. Then, as he breasted the hill up towards the burial ground, he +tried to strengthen his courage by realizing the magnitude of his own +position. He bade himself remember that he was among people who were his +inferiors in rank, education, wealth, manners, religion and nationality. +He had committed an error. Of course he had been in fault. Did he wish +to escape the consequences of his own misdoing? Was not his presence +there so soon after the assumption of his family honours sufficient +evidence of his generous admission of the claims to which he was +subject? Had he not offered to sacrifice himself as no other man would +have done? But they were still playing for the high stakes. They +were determined that the girl should be Countess of Scroope. He was +determined that she should not be Countess of Scroope. He was still +willing to sacrifice himself, but his family honours he would not +pollute. + +And then as he made his way past the burial ground and on towards the +cliff there crept over him a feeling as to the girl very different from +that reverential love which he had bestowed upon her when she was still +pure. He remembered the poorness of her raiment, the meekness of her +language, the small range of her ideas. The sweet soft coaxing loving +smile, which had once been so dear to him, was infantine and ignoble. +She was a plaything for an idle hour, not a woman to be taken out into +the world with the high name of Countess of Scroope. + +All this was the antagonism in his own heart against the indignant words +which the priest had spoken to him. For a moment he was so overcome +that he had burst into tears. But not on that account would he be beaten +away from his decision. The priest had called him a villain and had +threatened and cursed him! As to the villainy he had already made up +his mind which way his duty lay. For the threats it did not become him +to count them as anything. The curses were the result of the man's +barbarous religion. He remembered that he was the Earl of Scroope, and +so remembering summoned up his courage as he walked on to the cottage. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +AT ARDKILL. + + +Sharp eyes had watched for the young lord's approach. As he came near to +the cottage the door was opened and Kate O'Hara rushed out to meet him. +Though his mind was turned against her,--was turned against her as hard +and fast as all his false reasonings had been able to make it,--he could +not but accord to her the reception of a lover. She was in his arms and +he could not but press her close to his bosom. Her face was held up +to his, and of course he covered it with kisses. She murmured to him +sweet warm words of passionate love, and he could not but answer with +endearing names. "I am your own,--am I not?" she said as she still clung +to him. "All my own," he whispered as he tightened his arm round her +waist. + +Then he asked after Mrs. O'Hara. "Yes; mother is there. She will be +almost as glad to see you as I am. Nobody can be quite so glad. Oh +Fred,--my darling Fred,--am I still to call you Fred?" + +"What else, my pet?" + +"I was thinking whether I would call you--my Lord." + +"For heaven's sake do not." + +"No. You shall be Fred,--my Fred; Fred to me, though all the world +besides may call you grand names." Then again she held up her face to +him and pressed the hand that was round her waist closer to her girdle. +To have him once more with her,--this was to taste all the joys of +heaven while she was still on earth. + +They entered the sitting-room together and met Mrs. O'Hara close to the +door. "My Lord," she said, "you are very welcome back to us. Indeed we +need you much. I will not upbraid you as you come to make atonement for +your fault. If you will let me I will love you as a son." As she spoke +she held his right hand in both of hers, and then she lifted up her face +and kissed his cheek. + +He could not stay her words, nor could he refuse the kiss. And yet to +him the kiss was as the kiss of Judas, and the words were false words, +plotted words, pre-arranged, so that after hearing them there should be +no escape for him. But he would escape. He resolved again, even then, +that he would escape; but he could not answer her words at the moment. +Though Mrs. O'Hara held him by the hand, Kate still hung to his other +arm. He could not thrust her away from him. She still clung to him when +he released his right hand, and almost lay upon his breast when he +seated himself on the sofa. She looked into his eyes for tenderness, and +he could not refrain himself from bestowing upon her the happiness. "Oh, +mother," she said, "he is so brown;--but he is handsomer than ever." But +though he smiled on her, giving back into her eyes her own soft look of +love, yet he must tell his tale. + +He was still minded that she should have all but the one thing,--all +if she would take it. She should not be Countess of Scroope; but in +any other respect he would pay what penalty might be required for his +transgression. But in what words should he explain this to those two +women? Mrs. O'Hara had called him by his title and had claimed him as +her son. No doubt she had all the right to do so which promises made by +himself could give her. He had sworn that he would marry the girl, and +in point of time had only limited his promise by the old Earl's life. +The old Earl was dead, and he stood pledged to the immediate performance +of his vow,--doubly pledged if he were at all solicitous for the honour +of his future bride. But in spite of all promises she should never be +Countess of Scroope! + +Some tinkling false-tongued phrase as to lover's oaths had once passed +across his memory and had then sufficed to give him a grain of comfort. +There was no comfort to be found in it now. He began to tell himself, +in spite of his manhood, that it might have been better for him and for +them that he should have broken this matter to them by a well-chosen +messenger. But it was too late for that now. He had faced the priest and +had escaped from him with the degradation of a few tears. Now he was in +the presence of the lioness and her young. The lioness had claimed him +as a denizen of the forest; and, would he yield to her, she no doubt +would be very tender to him. But, as he was resolved not to yield, he +began to find that he had been wrong to enter her den. As he looked at +her, knowing that she was at this moment softened by false hopes, he +could nevertheless see in her eye the wrath of the wild animal. How was +he to begin to make his purpose known to them. + +"And now you must tell us everything," said Kate, still encircled by his +arm. + +"What must I tell you?" + +"You will give up the regiment at once?" + +"I have done so already." + +"But you must not give up Ardkill;--must he, mother?" + +"He may give it up when he takes you from it, Kate." + +"But he will take you too, mother?" + +The lioness at any rate wanted nothing for herself. "No, love. I shall +remain here among my rocks, and shall be happy if I hear that you are +happy." + +"But you won't part us altogether,--will you, Fred?" + +"No, love." + +"I knew he wouldn't. And mother may come to your grand house and creep +into some pretty little corner there, where I can go and visit her, and +tell her that she shall always be my own, own, own darling mother." + +He felt that he must put a stop to this in some way, though the doing +of it would be very dreadful. Indeed in the doing of it the whole of +his task would consist. But still he shirked it, and used his wit in +contriving an answer which might still deceive without being false in +words. "I think," said he, "that I shall never live at any grand house, +as you call it." + +"Not live at Scroope?" asked Mrs. O'Hara. + +"I think not. It will hardly suit me." + +"I shall not regret it," said Kate. "I care nothing for a grand house. I +should only be afraid of it. I know it is dark and sombre, for you have +said so. Oh, Fred, any place will be Paradise to me, if I am there with +you." + +He felt that every moment of existence so continued was a renewed lie. +She was lying in his arms, in her mother's presence, almost as his +acknowledged wife. And she was speaking of her future home as being +certainly his also. But what could he do? How could he begin to tell the +truth? His home should be her home, if she would come to him,--not as +his wife. That idea of some half-valid morganatic marriage had again +been dissipated by the rough reproaches of the priest, and could only be +used as a prelude to his viler proposal. And, though he loved the girl +after his fashion, he desired to wound her by no such vile proposal. He +did not wish to live a life of sin, if such life might be avoided. If he +made his proposal, it would be but for her sake; or rather that he might +show her that he did not wish to cast her aside. It was by asserting to +himself that for her sake he would relinquish his own rank, were that +possible, that he attempted to relieve his own conscience. But, in the +mean time, she was in his arms talking about their joint future home! +"Where do you think of living?" asked Mrs. O'Hara in a tone which shewed +plainly the anxiety with which she asked the question. + +"Probably abroad," he said. + +"But mother may go with us?" The girl felt that the tension of his arm +was relaxed, and she knew that all was not well with him. And if there +was ought amiss with him, how much more must it be amiss with her? "What +is it, Fred?" she said. "There is some secret. Will you not tell it +to me?" Then she whispered into his ear words intended for him alone, +though her mother heard them. "If there be a secret you should tell it +me now. Think how it is with me. Your words are life and death to me +now." He still held her with loosened arms but did not answer her. He +sat, looking out into the middle of the room with fixed eyes, and he +felt that drops of perspiration were on his brow. And he knew that the +other woman was glaring at him with the eyes of an injured lioness, +though he did not dare to turn his own to her face. "Fred, tell me; tell +me." And Kate rose up, with her knees upon the sofa, bending over him, +gazing into his countenance and imploring him. + +"There must be disappointment," he said; and he did not know the sound +of his own voice. + +"What disappointment? Speak to me. What disappointment?" + +"Disappointment!" shrieked the mother. "How disappointment? There shall +be no disappointment." Rising from her chair, she hurried across the +room, and took her girl from his arms. "Lord Scroope, tell us what you +mean. I say there shall be no disappointment. Sit away from him, Kate, +till he has told us what it is." Then they heard the sound of a horse's +foot passing close to the window, and they all knew that it was the +priest. "There is Father Marty," said Mrs. O'Hara. "He shall make you +tell it." + +"I have already told him." Lord Scroope as he said this rose and moved +towards the door; but he himself was almost unconscious of the movement. +Some idea probably crossed his mind that he would meet the priest, but +Mrs. O'Hara thought that he intended to escape from them. + +She rushed between him and the door and held him with both her hands. +"No; no; you do not leave us in that way, though you were twice an +Earl." + +"I am not thinking of leaving you." + +"Mother, you shall not hurt him; you shall not insult him," said the +girl. "He does not mean to harm me. He is my own, and no one shall touch +him." + +"Certainly I will not harm you. Here is Father Marty. Mrs. O'Hara you +had better be tranquil. You should remember that you have heard nothing +yet of what I would say to you." + +"Whose fault is that? Why do you not speak? Father Marty, what does he +mean when he tells my girl that there must be disappointment for her? +Does he dare to tell me that he hesitates to make her his wife?" + +The priest took the mother by the hand and placed her on the chair in +which she usually sat. Then, almost without a word, he led Kate from the +room to her own chamber, and bade her wait a minute till he should come +back to her. Then he returned to the sitting-room and at once addressed +himself to Lord Scroope. "Have you dared," he said, "to tell them what +you hardly dared to tell to me?" + +"He has dared to tell us nothing," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"I do not wonder at it. I do not think that any man could say to her +that which he told me that he would do." + +"Mrs. O'Hara," said the young lord, with some return of courage now +that the girl had left them, "that which I told Mr. Marty this morning, +I will now tell to you. For your daughter I will do anything that you +and she and he may wish,--but one thing. I cannot make her Countess of +Scroope." + +"You must make her your wife," said the woman, shouting at him. + +"I will do so to-morrow if a way can be found by which she shall not +become Countess of Scroope." + +"That is, he will marry her without making her his wife," said the +priest. "He will jump over a broomstick with her and will ask me to help +him,--so that your feelings and hers may be spared for a week or so. +Mrs. O'Hara, he is a villain,--a vile, heartless, cowardly reprobate, so +low in the scale of humanity that I degrade myself by spaking to him. He +calls himself an English peer! Peer to what? Certainly to no one worthy +to be called a man!" So speaking, the priest addressed himself to Mrs. +O'Hara, but as he spoke his eyes were fixed full on the face of the +young lord. + +"I will have his heart out of his body," exclaimed Mrs. O'Hara. + +"Heart;--he has no heart. You may touch his pocket;--or his pride, +what he calls his pride, a damnable devilish inhuman vanity; or his +name,--that bugbear of a title by which he trusts to cover his baseness; +or his skin, for he is a coward. Do you see his cheek now? But as for +his heart,--you cannot get at that." + +"I will get at his life," said the woman. + +"Mr. Marty, you allow yourself a liberty of speech which even your +priesthood will not warrant." + +"Lay a hand upon me if you can. There is not blood enough about you to +do it. Were it not that the poor child has been wake and too trusting, I +would bid her spit on you rather than take you for her husband." Then he +paused, but only for a moment. "Sir, you must marry her, and there must +be an end of it. In no other way can you be allowed to live." + +"Would you murder me?" + +"I would crush you like an insect beneath my nail. Murder you! Have you +thought what murder is;--that there are more ways of murder than one? +Have you thought of the life of that young girl who now bears in her +womb the fruit of your body? Would you murder her,--because she loved +you, and trusted you, and gave you all simply because you asked her; and +then think of your own life? As the God of Heaven is above me, and sees +me now, and the Saviour in whose blood I trust, I would lay down my life +this instant, if I could save her from your heartlessness." So saying he +too turned away his face and wept like a child. + +After this the priest was gentler in his manner to the young man, and +it almost seemed as though the Earl was driven from his decision. He +ceased, at any rate, to assert that Kate should never be Countess of +Scroope, and allowed both the mother and Father Marty to fall into a +state of doubt as to what his last resolve might be. It was decided that +he should go down to Ennistimon and sleep upon it. On the morrow he +would come up again, and in the meantime he would see Father Marty at +the inn. There were many prayers addressed to him both by the mother and +the priest, and such arguments used that he had been almost shaken. "But +you will come to-morrow?" said the mother, looking at the priest as she +spoke. + +"I will certainly come to-morrow." + +"No doubt he will come to-morrow," said Father Marty,--who intended +to imply that if Lord Scroope escaped out of Ennistimon without his +knowledge, he would be very much surprised. + +"Shall I not say a word to Kate?" the Earl asked as he was going. + +"Not till you are prepared to tell her that she shall be your wife," +said the priest. + +But this was a matter as to which Kate herself had a word to say. When +they were in the passage she came out from her room, and again rushed +into her lover's arms. "Oh, Fred, let me told,--let me told. I will go +with you anywhere if you will take me." + +"He is to come up to-morrow, Kate," said her mother. + +"He will be here early to-morrow, and everything shall be settled then," +said the priest, trying to assume a happy and contented tone. + +"Dearest Kate, I will be here by noon," said Lord Scroope, returning the +girl's caresses. + +"And you will not desert me?" + +"No, darling, no." And then he went, leaving the priest behind him at +the cottage. + +Father Marty was to be with him at the inn by eight, and then the whole +matter must be again discussed. He felt that he had been very weak, that +he had made no use,--almost no use at all,--of the damning fact of the +Captain's existence. He had allowed the priest to talk him down in every +argument, and had been actually awed by the girl's mother, and yet he +was determined that he would not yield. He felt more strongly than ever, +now that he had again seen Kate O'Hara, that it would not be right that +such a one as she should be made Countess of Scroope. Not only would she +disgrace the place, but she would be unhappy in it, and would shame him. +After all the promises that he had made he could not, and he would not, +take her to Scroope as his wife. How could she hold up her head before +such women as Sophie Mellerby and others like her? It would be known by +all his friends that he had been taken in and swindled by low people +in the County Clare, and he would be regarded by all around him as +one who had absolutely ruined himself. He had positively resolved that +she should not be Countess of Scroope, and to that resolution he would +adhere. The foul-mouthed priest had called him a coward, but he would +be no coward. The mother had said that she would have his life. If +there were danger in that respect he must encounter it. As he returned +to Ennistimon he again determined that Kate O'Hara should never become +Countess of Scroope. + +For three hours Father Marty remained with him that night, but did not +shake him. He had now become accustomed to the priest's wrath and could +endure it. And he thought also that he could now endure the mother. The +tears of the girl and her reproaches he still did fear. + +"I will do anything that you can dictate short of that," he said again +to Father Marty. + +"Anything but the one thing that you have sworn to do?" + +"Anything but the one thing that I have sworn not to do." For he had +told the priest of the promises he had made both to his uncle and to his +uncle's widow. + +"Then," said the priest, as he crammed his hat on his head, and shook +the dust off his feet, "if I were you I would not go to Ardkill +to-morrow if I valued my life." Nevertheless Father Marty slept at +Ennistimon that night, and was prepared to bar the way if any attempt +at escape were made. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +ON THE CLIFFS. + + +No attempt at escape was made. The Earl breakfasted by himself at about +nine, and then lighting a cigar, roamed about for a while round the Inn, +thinking of the work that was now before him. He saw nothing of Father +Marty though he knew that the priest was still in Ennistimon. And he +felt that he was watched. They might have saved themselves that trouble, +for he certainly had no intention of breaking his word to them. So he +told himself, thinking as he did so, that people such as these could +not understand that an Earl of Scroope would not be untrue to his word. +And yet since he had been back in County Clare he had almost regretted +that he had not broken his faith to them and remained in England. +At half-past ten he started on a car, having promised to be at the +cottage at noon, and he told his servant that he should certainly leave +Ennistimon that day at three. The horse and gig were to be ready for him +exactly at that hour. + +On this occasion he did not go through Liscannor, but took the other +road to the burial ground. There he left his car and slowly walked +along the cliffs till he came to the path leading down from them to the +cottage. In doing this he went somewhat out of his way, but he had time +on his hands and he did not desire to be at the cottage before the hour +he had named. It was a hot midsummer day, and there seemed to be hardly +a ripple on the waves. The tide was full in, and he sat for a while +looking down upon the blue waters. What an ass had he made himself, +coming thither in quest of adventures! He began to see now the meaning +of such idleness of purpose as that to which he had looked for pleasure +and excitement. Even the ocean itself and the very rocks had lost their +charm for him. It was all one blaze of blue light, the sky above and +the water below, in which there was neither beauty nor variety. How +poor had been the life he had chosen! He had spent hour after hour in a +comfortless dirty boat, in company with a wretched ignorant creature, in +order that he might shoot a few birds and possibly a seal. All the world +had been open to him, and yet how miserable had been his ambition! And +now he could see no way out of the ruin he had brought upon himself. + +When the time had come he rose from his seat and took the path down to +the cottage. At the corner of the little patch of garden ground attached +to it he met Mrs. O'Hara. Her hat was on her head, and a light shawl +was on her shoulders as though she had prepared herself for walking. +He immediately asked after Kate. She told him that Kate was within and +should see him presently. Would it not be better that they two should go +up on the cliffs together, and then say what might be necessary for the +mutual understanding of their purposes? "There should be no talking of +all this before Kate," said Mrs. O'Hara. + +"That is true." + +"You can imagine what she must feel if she is told to doubt. Lord +Scroope, will you not say at once that there shall be no doubt? You must +not ruin my child in return for her love!" + +"If there must be ruin I would sooner bear it myself," said he. And then +they walked on without further speech till they had reached a point +somewhat to the right, and higher than that on which he had sat before. +It had ever been a favourite spot with her, and he had often sat there +between the mother and daughter. It was almost the summit of the cliff, +but there was yet a higher pitch which screened it from the north, so +that the force of the wind was broken. The fall from it was almost +precipitous to the ocean, so that the face of the rocks immediately +below was not in view; but there was a curve here in the line of the +shore, and a little bay in the coast, which exposed to view the whole +side of the opposite cliff, so that the varying colours of the rocks +might be seen. The two ladies had made a seat upon the turf, by moving +the loose stones and levelling the earth around, so that they could sit +securely on the very edge. Many many hours had Mrs. O'Hara passed upon +the spot, both summer and winter, watching the sunset in the west, and +listening to the screams of the birds. "There are no gulls now," she +said as she seated herself,--as though for a moment she had forgotten +the great subject which filled her mind. + +"No;--they never show themselves in weather like this. They only come +when the wind blows. I wonder where they go when the sun shines." + +"They are just the opposite to men and women who only come around you +in fine weather. How hot it is!" and she threw her shawl back from her +shoulders. + +"Yes, indeed. I walked up from the burial ground and I found that it was +very hot. Have you seen Father Marty this morning?" + +"No. Have you?" she asked the question turning upon him very shortly. + +"Not to-day. He was with me till late last night." + +"Well." He did not answer her. He had nothing to say to her. In fact +everything had been said yesterday. If she had questions to ask he would +answer them. "What did you settle last night? When he went from me an +hour after you were gone, he said that it was impossible that you should +mean to destroy her." + +"God forbid that I should destroy her." + +"He said that,--that you were afraid of her father." + +"I am." + +"And of me." + +"No;--not of you, Mrs. O'Hara." + +"Listen to me. He said that such a one as you cannot endure the presence +of an uneducated and ill-mannered mother-in-law. Do not interrupt me, +Lord Scroope. If you will marry her, my girl shall never see my face +again; and I will cling to that man and will not leave him for a moment, +so that he shall never put his foot near your door. Our name shall never +be spoken in your hearing. She shall never even write to me if you think +it better that we shall be so separated." + +"It is not that," he said. + +"What is it, then?" + +"Oh, Mrs. O'Hara, you do not understand. You,--you I could love dearly." + +"I would have you keep all your love for her." + +"I do love her. She is good enough for me. She is too good; and so are +you. It is for the family, and not for myself." + +"How will she harm the family?" + +"I swore to my uncle that I would not make her Countess of Scroope." + +"And have you not sworn to her again and again that she should be your +wife? Do you think that she would have done for you what she has done, +had you not so sworn? Lord Scroope, I cannot think that you really mean +it." She put both her hands softly upon his arm and looked up to him +imploring his mercy. + +He got up from his seat and roamed along the cliff, and she followed +him, still imploring. Her tones were soft, and her words were the +words of a suppliant. Would he not relent and save her child from +wretchedness, from ruin and from death. "I will keep her with me till +I die," he said. + +"But not as your wife?" + +"She shall have all attention from me,--everything that a woman's heart +can desire. You two shall be never separated." + +"But not as your wife?" + +"I will live where she and you may please. She shall want nothing that +my wife would possess." + +"But not as your wife?" + +"Not as Countess of Scroope." + +"You would have her as your mistress, then?" As she asked this question +the tone of her voice was altogether altered, and the threatening +lion-look had returned to her eyes. They were now near the seat, +confronted to each other; and the fury of her bosom, which for a while +had been dominated by the tenderness of the love for her daughter, was +again raging within her. Was it possible that he should be able to treat +them thus,--that he should break his word and go from them scathless, +happy, joyous, with all the delights of the world before him, leaving +them crushed into dust beneath his feet. She had been called upon from +her youth upwards to bear injustice,--but of all injustice surely this +would be the worst. "As your mistress," she repeated,--"and I her +mother, am to stand by and see it, and know that my girl is dishonoured! +Would your mother have borne that for your sister? How would it be if +your sister were as that girl is now?" + +"I have no sister." + +"And therefore you are thus hard-hearted. She shall never be your +harlot;--never. I would myself sooner take from her the life I gave her. +You have destroyed her, but she shall never be a thing so low as that." + +"I will marry her,--in a foreign land." + +"And why not here? She is as good as you. Why should she not bear the +name you are so proud of dinning into our ears? Why should she not be a +Countess? Has she ever disgraced herself? If she is disgraced in your +eyes you must be a Devil." + +"It is not that," he said hoarsely. + +"What is it? What has she done that she should be thus punished? Tell +me, man, that she shall be your lawful wife." As she said this she +caught him roughly by the collar of his coat and shook him with her arm. + +"It cannot be so," said the Earl Of Scroope. + +"It cannot be so! But I say it shall,--or,--or--! What are you, that +she should be in your hands like this? Say that she shall be your wife, +or you shall never live to speak to another woman." The peril of his +position on the top of the cliff had not occurred to him;--nor did it +occur to him now. He had been there so often that the place gave him no +sense of danger. Nor had that peril,--as it was thought afterwards by +those who most closely made inquiry on the matter,--ever occurred to +her. She had not brought him there that she might frighten him with +that danger, or that she might avenge herself by the power which it gave +her. But now the idea flashed across her maddened mind. "Miscreant," she +said. And she bore him back to the very edge of the precipice. + +"You'll have me over the cliff," he exclaimed hardly even yet putting +out his strength against her. + +"And so I will, by the help of God. Now think of her! Now think of her!" +And as she spoke she pressed him backwards towards his fall. He had +power enough to bend his knee, and to crouch beneath her grasp on to the +loose crumbling soil of the margin of the rocks. He still held her by +her cuff and it seemed for a moment as though she must go with him. But, +on a sudden, she spurned him with her foot on the breast, the rag of +cloth parted in his hand, and the poor wretch tumbled forth alone into +eternity. + +That was the end of Frederic Neville, Earl of Scroope, and the end, too, +of all that poor girl's hopes in this world. When you stretch yourself +on the edge of those cliffs and look down over the abyss on the sea +below it seems as though the rocks were so absolutely perpendicular, +that a stone dropped with an extended hand would fall amidst the waves. +But in such measurement the eye deceives itself, for the rocks in truth +slant down; and the young man, as he fell, struck them again and again; +and at last it was a broken mangled corpse that reached the blue waters +below. + +Her Kate was at last avenged. The woman stood there in her solitude for +some minutes thinking of the thing she had done. The man had injured +her,--sorely,--and she had punished him. He had richly deserved the +death which he had received from her hands. In these minutes, as +regarded him, there was no remorse. But how should she tell the news +to her child? The blow which had thrust him over would, too probably, +destroy other life than his. Would it not be better that her girl should +so die? What could prolonged life give her that would be worth her +having? As for herself,--in these first moments of her awe she took no +thought of her own danger. It did not occur to her that she might tell +how the man had ventured too near the edge and had fallen by mischance. +As regarded herself she was proud of the thing she had accomplished; but +how should she tell her child that it was done? + +She slowly took the path, not to the cottage, but down towards the +burial ground and Liscannor, passing the car which was waiting in vain +for the young lord. On she walked with rapid step, indifferent to the +heat, still proud of what she had done,--raging with a maddened pride. +How little had they two asked of the world! And then this man had come +to them and robbed them of all that little, had spoiled them ruthlessly, +cheating them with lies, and then excusing himself by the grandeur of +his blood! During that walk it was that she first repeated to herself +the words that were ever afterwards on her tongue; An Eye for an Eye. +Was not that justice? And, had she not taken the eye herself, would any +Court in the world have given it to her? Yes;--an eye for an eye! Death +in return for ruin! One destruction for another! The punishment had been +just. An eye for an eye! Let the Courts of the world now say what they +pleased, they could not return to his earldom the man who had plundered +and spoiled her child. He had sworn that he would not make her Kate +Countess of Scroope! Nor should he make any other woman a Countess! + +Rapidly she went down by the burying ground, and into the priest's +house. Father Marty was there, and she stalked at once into his +presence. "Ha;--Mrs. O'Hara! And where is Lord Scroope?" + +"There," she said, pointing out towards the ocean. "Under the rocks!" + +"He has fallen!" + +"I thrust him down with my hands and with my feet." As she said this, +she used her hand and her foot as though she were now using her strength +to push the man over the edge. "Yes, I thrust him down, and he fell +splashing into the waves. I heard it as his body struck the water. He +will shoot no more of the sea-gulls now." + +"You do not mean that you have murdered him?" + +"You may call it murder if you please, Father Marty. An eye for an eye, +Father Marty! It is justice, and I have done it. An Eye for an Eye!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CONCLUSION. + + +The story of the poor mad woman who still proclaims in her seclusion the +justice of the deed which she did, has now been told. It may perhaps be +well to collect the scattered ends of the threads of the tale for the +benefit of readers who desire to know the whole of a history. + +Mrs. O'Hara never returned to the cottage on the cliffs after the +perpetration of the deed. On the unhappy priest devolved the duty of +doing whatever must be done. The police at the neighbouring barracks +were told that the young lord had perished by a fall from the cliffs, +and by them search was made for the body. No real attempt was set on +foot to screen the woman who had done the deed by any concealment of the +facts. She herself was not alive to the necessity of making any such +attempt. "An eye for an eye!" she said to the head-constable when the +man interrogated her. It soon became known to all Liscannor, to +Ennistimon, to the ladies at Castle Quin, and to all the barony of +Corcomroe that Mrs. O'Hara had thrust the Earl of Scroope over the +cliffs of Moher, and that she was now detained at the house of Father +Marty in the custody of a policeman. Before the day was over it was +declared also that she was mad,--and that her daughter was dying. + +The deed which the woman had done and the death of the young lord were +both terrible to Father Marty; but there was a duty thrown upon him more +awful to his mind even than these. Kate O'Hara, when her mother +appeared at the priest's house, had been alone at the cottage. By +degrees Father Marty learned from the wretched woman something of the +circumstances of that morning's work. Kate had not seen her lover that +day, but had been left in the cottage while her mother went out to meet +the man, and if possible to persuade him to do her child justice. The +priest understood that she would be waiting for them,--or more probably +searching for them on the cliffs. He got upon his horse and rode up the +hill with a heavy heart. What should he tell her; and how should he tell +it? + +Before he reached the cottage she came running down the hillside to him. +"Father Marty, where is mother? Where is Mr. Neville? You know. I see +that you know. Where are they?" He got off his horse and put his arm +round her body and seated her beside himself on the rising bank by the +wayside. "Why don't you speak?" she said. + +"I cannot speak," he murmured. "I cannot tell you." + +"Is he--dead?" He only buried his face in his hands. "She has killed +him! Mother--mother!" Then, with one loud long wailing shriek, she fell +upon the ground. + +Not for a month after that did she know anything of what happened around +her. But yet it seemed that during that time her mind had not been +altogether vacant, for when she awoke to self-consciousness, she knew at +least that her lover was dead. She had been taken into Ennistimon and +there, under the priest's care, had been tended with infinite +solicitude; but almost with a hope on his part that nature might give +way and that she might die. Overwhelmed as she was with sorrows past and +to come would it not be better for her that she should go hence and be +no more seen? But as Death cannot be barred from the door when he knocks +at it, so neither can he be made to come as a guest when summoned. She +still lived, though life had so little to offer to her. + +But Mrs. O'Hara never saw her child again. With passionate entreaties +she begged of the police that her girl might be brought to her, that she +might be allowed if it were only to see her face or to touch her hand. +Her entreaties to the priest, who was constant in his attendance upon +her in the prison to which she was removed from his house, were +piteous,--almost heartbreaking. But the poor girl, though she was meek, +silent, and almost apathetic in her tranquillity, could not even bear +the mention of her mother's name. Her mother had destroyed the father of +the child that was to be born to her, her lover, her hero, her god; and +in her remembrance of the man who had betrayed her, she learned to +execrate the mother who had sacrificed everything,--her very reason,--in +avenging the wrongs of her child! + +Mrs. O'Hara was taken away from the priest's house to the County Gaol, +but was then in a condition of acknowledged insanity. That she had +committed the murder no one who heard the story doubted, but of her +guilt there was no evidence whatever beyond the random confession of a +maniac. No detailed confession was ever made by her. "An eye for an +eye," she would say when interrogated,--"Is not that justice? A tooth +for a tooth!" Though she was for a while detained in prison it was +impossible to prosecute her,--even with a view to an acquittal on the +ground of insanity; and while the question was under discussion among +the lawyers, provision for her care and maintenance came from another +source. + +As also it did for the poor girl. For a while everything was done for +her under the care of Father Marty;--but there was another Earl of +Scroope in the world, and as soon as the story was known to him and the +circumstances had been made clear, he came forward to offer on behalf of +the family whatever assistance might now avail them anything. As months +rolled on the time of Kate O'Hara's further probation came, but Fate +spared her the burden and despair of a living infant. It was at last +thought better that she should go to her father and live in France with +him, reprobate though the man was. The priest offered to find a home for +her in his own house at Liscannor; but, as he said himself, he was an +old man, and one who when he went would leave no home behind him. And +then it was felt that the close vicinity of the spot on which her lover +had perished would produce a continued melancholy that might crush her +spirits utterly. Captain O'Hara therefore was desired to come and fetch +his child,--and he did so, with many protestations of virtue for the +future. If actual pecuniary comfort can conduce to virtue in such a man, +a chance was given him. The Earl of Scroope was only too liberal in the +settlement he made. But the settlement was on the daughter and not on +the father; and it is possible therefore that some gentle restraint may +have served to keep him out of the deep abysses of wickedness. + +The effects of the tragedy on the coast of Clare spread beyond Ireland, +and drove another woman to the verge of insanity. When the Countess of +Scroope heard the story, she shut herself up at Scroope and would see no +one but her own servants. When the succeeding Earl came to the house +which was now his own, she refused to admit him into her presence, and +declined even a renewed visit from Miss Mellerby who at that time had +returned to her father's roof. At last the clergyman of Scroope +prevailed, and to him she unburdened her soul,--acknowledging, with an +energy that went perhaps beyond the truth, the sin of her own conduct in +producing the catastrophe which had occurred. "I knew that he had +wronged her, and yet I bade him not to make her his wife." That was the +gist of her confession and she declared that the young man's blood would +be on her hands till she died. A small cottage was prepared for her on +the estate, and there she lived in absolute seclusion till death +relieved her from her sorrows. + +And she lived not only in seclusion, but in solitude almost to her +death. It was not till four years after the occurrences which have been +here related that John fourteenth Earl of Scroope brought a bride home +to Scroope Manor. The reader need hardly be told that that bride was +Sophie Mellerby. When the young Countess came to live at the Manor the +old Countess admitted her visits and at last found some consolation in +her friend's company. But it lasted not long, and then she was taken +away and buried beside her lord in the chancel of the parish church. + +When it was at last decided that the law should not interfere at all as +to the personal custody of the poor maniac who had sacrificed everything +to avenge her daughter, the Earl of Scroope selected for her comfort the +asylum in which she still continues to justify from morning to night, +and, alas, often all the night long, the terrible deed of which she is +ever thinking. "An eye for an eye," she says to the woman who watches +her. + +"Oh, yes, ma'am; certainly." + +"An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth! Is it not so? An eye for an +eye!" + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN EYE FOR AN EYE*** + + +******* This file should be named 16804.txt or 16804.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/6/8/0/16804 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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