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diff --git a/old/23358-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/23358-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f1514a0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/23358-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,1747 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + A Rivermouth Romance, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Rivermouth Romance, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +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: A Rivermouth Romance + +Author: Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +Release Date: November 6, 2007 [EBook #23358] +Last Updated: March 3, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RIVERMOUTH ROMANCE *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A RIVERMOUTH ROMANCE. + </h1> + <h2> + By Thomas Bailey Aldrich + </h2> + <h3> + Boston And New York Houghton Mifflin Company + </h3> + <h4> + Copyright, 1873, 1885, and 1901 + </h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. + </h2> + <p> + At five o'clock on the morning of the tenth of July, 1860, the front door + of a certain house on Anchor Street, in the ancient seaport town of + Rivermouth, might have been observed to open with great caution. This + door, as the least imaginative reader may easily conjecture, did not open + itself. It was opened by Miss Margaret Callaghan, who immediately closed + it softly behind her, paused for a few seconds with an embarrassed air on + the stone step, and then, throwing a furtive glance up at the second-story + windows, passed hastily down the street towards the river, keeping close + to the fences and garden walls on her left. + </p> + <p> + There was a ghost-like stealthiness to Miss Margaret's movements, though + there was nothing whatever of the ghost about Miss Margaret herself. She + was a plump, short person, no longer young, with coal-black hair growing + low on the forehead, and a round face that would have been nearly + meaningless if the features had not been emphasized—italicized, so + to speak—by the small-pox. Moreover, the brilliancy of her toilet + would have rendered any ghostly hypothesis untenable. Mrs. Solomon (we + refer to the dressiest Mrs. Solomon, whichever one that was) in all her + glory was not arrayed like Miss Margaret on that eventful summer morning. + She wore a light-green, shot-silk frock, a blazing red shawl, and a yellow + crape bonnet profusely decorated with azure, orange, and magenta + artificial flowers. In her hand she carried a white parasol. The newly + risen sun, ricocheting from the bosom of the river and striking point + blank on the top-knot of Miss Margaret's gorgeousness, made her an + imposing spectacle in the quiet street of that Puritan village. But, in + spite of the bravery of her apparel, she stole guiltily along by garden + walls and fences until she reached a small, dingy frame-house near the + wharves, in the darkened doorway of which she quenched her burning + splendor, if so bold a figure is permissible. + </p> + <p> + Three quarters of an hour passed. The sunshine moved slowly up Anchor + Street, fingered noiselessly the well-kept brass knockers on either side, + and drained the heeltaps of dew which had been left from the revels of the + fairies overnight in the cups of the morning-glories. Not a soul was + stirring yet in this part of the town, though the Rivermouthians are such + early birds that not a worm may be said to escape them. By and by one of + the brown Holland shades at one of the upper windows of the Bilkins + mansion—the house from which Miss Margaret had emerged—was + drawn up, and old Mr. Bilkins in spiral nightcap looked out on the sunny + street. Not a living creature was to be seen, save the dissipated family + cat—a very Lovelace of a cat that was not allowed a night-key—who + was sitting on the curbstone opposite, waiting for the hall door to be + opened. Three quarters of an hour, we repeat, had passed, when Mrs. + Margaret O'Rourke, <i>née</i> Callaghan, issued from the small, dingy + house by the river, and regained the door-step of the Bilkins mansion in + the same stealthy fashion in which she had left it. + </p> + <p> + Not to prolong a mystery that must already oppress the reader, Mr. + Bilkins's cook had, after the manner of her kind, stolen out of the + premises before the family were up, and got herself married—surreptitiously + and artfully married, as if matrimony were an indictable offence. + </p> + <p> + And something of an offence it was in this instance. In the first place + Margaret Callaghan had lived nearly twenty years with the Bilkins family, + and the old people—there were no children now—had rewarded + this long service by taking Margaret into their affections. It was a piece + of subtile ingratitude for her to marry without admitting the worthy + couple to her confidence. In the next place, Margaret had married a man + some eighteen years younger than herself. That was the young man's + lookout, you say. We hold it was Margaret that was to blame. What does a + young blade of twenty-two know? Not half so much as he thinks he does. His + exhaust-less ignorance at that age is a discovery which is left for him to + make in his prime. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, + Billing and cooing is all your cheer; + Sighing and singing of midnight strains, + Under Bonnybell's window panes,— + Wait till you come to Forty Year!” + </pre> + <p> + In one sense Margaret's husband <i>had</i> come to forty year—she + was forty to a day. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Margaret O'Rourke, with the baddish cat following close at her heels, + entered the Bilkins mansion, reached her chamber in the attic without + being intercepted, and there laid aside her finery. Two or three times, + while arranging her more humble attire, she paused to take a look at the + marriage certificate, which she had deposited between the leaves of her + Prayer-Book, and on each occasion held that potent document upside down; + for Margaret's literary culture was of the severest order, and excluded + the art of reading. + </p> + <p> + The breakfast was late that morning. As Mrs. O'Rourke set the coffee-urn + in front of Mrs. Bilkins and flanked Mr. Bilkins with the broiled mackerel + and buttered toast, Mrs. O'Rourke's conscience smote her. She afterwards + declared that when she saw the two sitting there so innocent-like, not + dreaming of the <i>comether</i> she had put upon them, she secretly and + unbeknownst let a few tears fall into the cream-pitcher. Whether or not it + was this material expression of Margaret's penitence that spoiled the + coffee does not admit of inquiry; but the coffee was bad. In fact, the + whole breakfast was a comedy of errors. + </p> + <p> + It was a blessed relief to Margaret when the meal was ended. She retired + in a cold perspiration to the penetralia of the kitchen, and it was + remarked by both Mr. and Mrs. Bilkins that those short flights of vocalism—apropos + of the personal charms of one Kate Kearney who lived on the banks of + Killarney—which ordinarily issued from the direction of the scullery + were unheard that forenoon. + </p> + <p> + The town clock was striking eleven, and the antiquated timepiece on the + staircase (which never spoke but it dropped pearls and crystals, like the + fairy in the story) was lisping the hour, when there came three tremendous + knocks at the street door. Mrs. Bilkins, who was dusting the brass-mounted + chronometer in the hall, stood transfixed, with arm uplifted. The + admirable old lady had for years been carrying on a guerilla warfare with + itinerant venders of furniture polish, and pain-killer, and crockery + cement, and the like. The effrontery of the triple knock convinced her the + enemy was at her gates—possibly that dissolute creature with + twenty-four sheets of note-paper and twenty-four envelopes for fifteen + cents. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bilkins swept across the hall, and opened the door with a jerk. The + suddenness of the movement was apparently not anticipated by the person + outside, who, with one arm stretched feebly towards the receding knocker, + tilted gently forward, and rested both hands on the threshold in an + attitude which was probably common enough with our ancestors of the Simian + period, but could never have been considered graceful. By an effort that + testified to the excellent condition of his muscles, the person instantly + righted himself, and stood swaying unsteadily on his toes and heels, and + smiling rather vaguely on Mrs. Bilkins. + </p> + <p> + It was a slightly-built but well-knitted young fellow, in the not + unpicturesque garb of our marine service. His woollen cap, pitched forward + at an acute angle with his nose, showed the back part of a head thatched + with short yellow hair, which had broken into innumerable curls of painful + tightness. On his ruddy cheeks a sparse sandy beard was making a timid <i>début</i>. + Add to this a weak, good-natured mouth, a pair of devil-may-care blue + eyes, and the fact that the man was very drunk, and you have a + pre-Raphaelite portrait—we may as well say it at once—of Mr. + Larry O'Rourke of Mullingar, County Westmeath, and late of the United + States sloop-of-war Santee. + </p> + <p> + The man was a total stranger to Mrs. Bilkins; but the instant she caught + sight of the double white anchors embroidered on the lapels of his jacket, + she unhesitatingly threw back the door, which with great presence of mind + she had partly closed. + </p> + <p> + A drunken sailor standing on the step of the Bilkins mansion was no + novelty. The street, as we have stated, led down to the wharves, and + sailors were constantly passing. The house abutted directly on the street; + the granite door-step was almost flush with the sidewalk, and the huge + old-fashioned brass knocker—seemingly a brazen hand that had been + cut off at the wrist, and nailed against the oak as a warning to + malefactors—extended itself in a kind of grim appeal to everybody. + It seemed to possess strange fascinations for all seafaring folk; and when + there was a man-of-war in port the rat-tat-tat of that knocker would + frequently startle the quiet neighborhood long after midnight. There + appeared to be an occult understanding between it and the blue-jackets. + Years ago there was a young Bilkins, one Pendexter Bilkins—a sad + losel, we fear—who ran away to try his fortunes before the mast, and + fell overboard in a gale off Hatteras. “Lost at sea,” says the chubby + marble slab in the Old South Burying-Ground, “ætat 18.” Perhaps that is + why no blue-jacket, sober or drunk, was ever repulsed from the door of the + Bilkins mansion. + </p> + <p> + Of course Mrs. Bilkins had her taste in the matter, and preferred them + sober. But as this could not always be, she tempered her wind, so to + speak, to the shorn lamb. The flushed, prematurely old face that now + looked up at her moved the good lady's pity. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want?” she asked kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Me wife.” + </p> + <p> + “There 's no wife for you here,” said Mrs. Bilkins, somewhat taken aback. + “His wife!” she thought; “it's a mother the poor boy stands in need of.” + </p> + <p> + “Me wife,” repeated Mr. O'Rourke, “for betther or for worse.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better go away,” said Mrs. Bilkins, bridling up, “or it will be + the worse for you.” + </p> + <p> + “To have and to howld,” continued Mr. O'Rourke, wandering retrospectively + in the mazes of the marriage service, “to have and to howld, till death—bad + luck to him!—takes one or the ither of us.” + </p> + <p> + “You 're a blasphemous creature,” said Mrs. Bilkins, severely. + </p> + <p> + “Thim 's the words his riverince spake this mornin', standin' foreninst + us,” explained Mr. O'Rourke. “I stood here, see, and me jew'l stood there, + and the howly chaplain beyont.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. O'Rourke with a wavering forefinger drew a diagram of the + interesting situation on the door-step. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” returned Mrs. Bilkins, “if you 're a married man, all I have to + say is, there's a pair of fools instead of one. You had better be off; the + person you want does n't live here.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, thin, but she does.” + </p> + <p> + “Lives here?” + </p> + <p> + “Sorra a place else.” + </p> + <p> + “The man's crazy,” said Mrs. Bilkins to herself. + </p> + <p> + While she thought him simply drunk she was not in the least afraid; but + the idea that she was conversing with a madman sent a chill over her. She + reached back her hand preparatory to shutting the door, when Mr. O'Rourke, + with an agility that might have been expected from his previous + gymnastics, set one foot on the threshold and frustrated the design. + </p> + <p> + “I want me wife,” he said sternly. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, Mr. Bilkins had gone up town, and there was no one in the + house except Margaret, whose pluck was not to be depended on. The case was + urgent. With the energy of despair Mrs. Bilkins suddenly placed the toe of + her boot against Mr. O'Rourke's invading foot, and pushed it away. The + effect of this attack was to cause Mr. O'Rourke to describe a complete + circle on one leg, and then sit down heavily on the threshold. The lady + retreated to the hat-stand, and rested her hand mechanically on the handle + of a blue cotton umbrella. Mr. O'Rourke partly turned his head and smiled + upon her with conscious superiority. At this juncture a third actor + appeared on the scene, evidently a friend of Mr. O'Rourke, for he + addressed that gentleman as “a spalpeen,” and told him to go home. + </p> + <p> + “Divil an inch,” replied the spalpeen; but he got himself off the + threshold, and returned his position on the step. + </p> + <p> + “It's only Larry, mum,” said the man, touching his forelock politely; “as + dacent a lad as iver lived, when he 's not in liquor; an' I 've known him + to be sober for days to-gither,” he added, reflectively. “He don't mane a + ha'p'orth o' harum, but jist now he's not quite in his right moind.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not,” said Mrs. Bilkins, turning from the speaker to Mr. + O'Rourke, who had seated himself gravely on the scraper, and was weeping. + “Hasn't the man any friends?” + </p> + <p> + “Too many of 'em, mum, an' it's along wid dhrinkin' toasts wid 'em that + Larry got throwed. The punch that spalpeen has dhrunk this day would amaze + ye. He give us the slip awhiles ago, bad 'cess to him, an' come up here. + Did n't I tell ye, Larry, not to be afther ringin' at the owld gintleman's + knocker? Ain't ye got no sinse at all?” + </p> + <p> + “Misther Donnehugh,” responded Mr. O'Rourke with great dignity, “ye 're + dhrunk agin.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Donnehugh, who had not taken more than thirteen ladles of rum-punch, + disdained to reply directly. + </p> + <p> + “He's a dacent lad enough”—this to Mrs. Bilkins—“but his head + is wake. Whin he's had two sups o' whiskey he belaves he's dhrunk a bar'l + full. A gill o' wather out of a jimmy-john 'd fuddle him, mum.” + </p> + <p> + “Is n't there anybody to look after him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, mum, he's an orphan; his father and mother live in the owld counthry, + an' a fine hale owld couple they are.” + </p> + <p> + “Has n't he any family in the town”— + </p> + <p> + “Sure, mum, he has a family; was n't he married this blessed mornin'?” + </p> + <p> + “He said so.” + </p> + <p> + “Indade, thin, he was—the pore divil!” + </p> + <p> + “And the—the person?” inquired Mrs. Bilkins. + </p> + <p> + “Is it the wife, ye mane?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the wife: where is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thin, mum,” said Mr. Donnehugh, “it's yerself can answer that.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” exclaimed Mrs. Bilkins. “Good heavens! this man's as crazy as the + other!” + </p> + <p> + “Begorra, if anybody's crazy, it's Larry, for it's Larry has married + Margaret.” + </p> + <p> + “What Margaret?” cried Mrs. Bilkins, with a start. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret Callaghan, sure.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Our</i> Margaret? Do you mean to say that OUR Margaret has married + that—that good-for-nothing, inebriated wretch!” + </p> + <p> + “It's a civil tongue the owld lady has, any way,” remarked Mr. O'Rourke, + critically, from the scraper. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bilkins's voice during the latter part of the colloquy had been + pitched in a high key; it rung through the hall and penetrated to the + kitchen, where Margaret was thoughtfully wiping the breakfast things. She + paused with a half-dried saucer in her hand, and listened. In a moment + more she stood, with bloodless face and limp figure, leaning against the + banister, behind Mrs. Bilkins. + </p> + <p> + “Is it there ye are, me jew'l!” cried Mr. O'Rourke, discovering her. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Bilkins wheeled upon Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Margaret Callaghan, <i>is</i> that thing your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Ye-yes, mum,” faltered Mrs. O'Rourke, with a woful lack of spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Then take it away!” cried Mrs. Bilkins. + </p> + <p> + Margaret, with a slight flush on either cheek, glided past Mrs. Bilkins, + and the heavy oak door closed with a bang, as the gates of Paradise must + have closed of old upon Adam and Eve. + </p> + <p> + “Come!” said Margaret, taking Mr. O'Rourke by the hand; and the two + wandered forth upon their wedding journey down Anchor Street, with all the + world before them where to choose. They chose to halt at the small, shabby + tenement-house by the river, through the doorway of which the bridal pair + disappeared with a reeling, eccentric gait; for Mr. O'Rourke's + intoxication seemed to have run down his elbow, and communicated itself to + Margaret. O Hymen! who burnest precious gums and scented woods in thy + torch at the melting of aristocratic hearts, with what a pitiful penny-dip + thou hast lighted up our little back-street romance! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. + </h2> + <p> + It had been no part of Margaret's plan to acknowledge the marriage so + soon. Though on pleasure bent, she had a frugal mind. She had invested in + a husband with a view of laying him away for a rainy day—that is to + say, for such time as her master and mistress should cease to need her + services; for she had promised on more than one occasion to remain with + the old people as long as they lived. Indeed, if Mr. O'Rourke had come to + her and said in so many words, “The day you marry me you must leave the + Bilkins family,” there is very little doubt but Margaret would have let + that young sea-monster slip back unmated, so far as she was concerned, + into his native element. The contingency never entered into her + calculations. She intended that the ship which had brought Ulysses to her + island should take him off again after a decent interval of honeymoon; + then she would confess all to Mrs. Bilkins, and be forgiven, and Mr. + Bilkins would not cancel that clause supposed to exist in his will + bequeathing two first-mortgage bonds of the Squedunk E. B. Co. to a + certain faithful servant. In the mean while she would add each month to + her store in the coffers of the Rivermouth Savings Bank; for Calypso had a + neat sum to her credit on the books of that provident institution. + </p> + <p> + But this could not be now. The volatile bridegroom had upset the wisely + conceived plan, and “all the fat was in the fire,” as Margaret + philosophically put it. Mr. O'Rourke had been fully instructed in the part + he was to play, and, to do him justice, had honestly intended to play it; + but destiny was against him. It may be observed that destiny and Mr. + O'Rourke were not on very friendly terms. + </p> + <p> + After the ceremony had been performed and Margaret had stolen back to the + Bilkins mansion, as related, Mr. O'Rourke with his own skilful hands had + brewed a noble punch for the wedding guests. Standing at the head of the + table and stirring the pungent mixture in a small wash-tub purchased for + the occasion, Mr. O'Rourke came out in full flower. His flow of wit, as he + replenished the glasses, was as racy and seemingly as inexhaustible as the + punch itself. When Mrs. McLaughlin held out her glass, inadvertently + upside down, for her sixth ladleful, Mr. O'Rourke gallantly declared it + should be filled if he had to stand on his head to do it. The elder Miss + O'Leary whispered to Mrs. Connally that Mr. O'Rourke was “a perfic + gintleman,” and the men in a body pronounced him a bit of the raal + shamrock. If Mr. O'Rourke was happy in brewing a punch, he was happier in + dispensing it, and happiest of all in drinking a great deal of it himself. + He toasted Mrs. Finnigan, the landlady, and the late lamented Finnigan, + the father, whom he had never seen, and Miss Biddy Finnigan, the daughter, + and a young toddling Finnigan, who was at large in shockingly scant + raiment. He drank to the company individually and collectively, drank to + the absent, drank to a tin-peddler who chanced to pass the window, and + indeed was in that propitiatory mood when he would have drunk to the + health of each separate animal that came out of the Ark. It was in the + midst of the confusion and applause which followed his song, “The Wearing + of the Grane,” that Mr. O'Rourke, the punch being all gone, withdrew + unobserved, and went in quest of Mrs. O'Rourke—with what success the + reader knows. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + According to the love-idyl of the period, when Laura and Charles Henry, + after unheard-of obstacles, are finally united, all cares and tribulations + and responsibilities slip from their sleek backs like Christian's burden. + The idea is a pretty one, theoretically, but, like some of those models in + the Patent Office at Washington, it fails to work. Charles Henry does not + go on sitting at Laura's feet and reading Tennyson to her forever: the + rent of the cottage by the sea falls due with prosaic regularity; there + are bakers, and butchers, and babies, and tax-collectors, and doctors, and + undertakers, and sometimes gentlemen of the jury, to be attended to. + Wedded life is not one long amatory poem with recurrent rhymes of love and + dove, and kiss and bliss. Yet when the average sentimental novelist has + supplied his hero and heroine with their bridal outfit and arranged that + little matter of the marriage certificate, he usually turns off the gas, + puts up his shutters, and saunters off with his hands in his pockets, as + if the day's business were over. But we, who are honest dealers in real + life and disdain to give short weight, know better. The business is by no + means over; it is just begun. It is not Christian throwing off his pack + for good and all, but Christian taking up a load heavier and more + difficult than any he has carried. + </p> + <p> + If Margaret Callaghan, when she meditated matrimony, indulged in any + roseate dreams, they were quickly put to flight. She suddenly found + herself dispossessed of a quiet, comfortable home, and face to face with + the fact that she had a white elephant on her hands. It is not likely that + Mr. O'Rourke assumed precisely the shape of a white elephant to her mental + vision; but he was as useless and cumbersome and unmanageable as one. + </p> + <p> + Margaret and Larry's wedding tour did not extend beyond Mrs. Finnigan's + establishment, where they took two or three rooms and set up housekeeping + in a humble way. Margaret, who was a tidy housewife, kept the floor of her + apartments as white as your hand, the tin plates on the dresser as bright + as your lady-love's eyes, and the cooking-stove as neat as the machinery + on a Sound steamer. When she was not rubbing the stove with lamp-black she + was cooking upon it some savory dish to tempt the palate of her marine + monster. Naturally of a hopeful temperament, she went about her work + singing softly to herself at times, and would have been very happy that + first week if Mr. O'Rourke had known a sober moment. But Mr. O'Rourke + showed an exasperating disposition to keep up festivities. At the end of + ten days, however, he toned down, and at Margaret's suggestion that he had + better be looking about for some employment he rigged up a fishing-pole, + and set out with an injured air for the wharf at the foot of the street, + where he fished for the rest of the day. To sit for hours blinking in the + sun, waiting for a cunner to come along and take his hook, was as + exhaustive a kind of labor as he cared to engage in. Though Mr. O'Rourke + had recently returned from a long cruise, he had not a cent to show. + During his first three days ashore he had dissipated his three years' pay. + The housekeeping expenses began eating a hole in Margaret's little fund, + the existence of which was no sooner known to Mr. O'Rourke than he stood + up his fishing-rod in one corner of the room, and thenceforth it caught + nothing but cobwebs. + </p> + <p> + “Divil a sthroke o' work I 'll do,” said Mr. O'Rourke, “whin we can live + at aise on our earnin's. Who 'd be afther frettin' hisself, wid money in + the bank? How much is it, Peggy darlint?” + </p> + <p> + And divil a stroke more of work did he do. He lounged down on the wharves, + and, with his short clay pipe stuck between his lips and his hands in his + pockets, stared off at the sail-boats on the river. He sat on the + door-step of the Finnigan domicile, and plentifully chaffed the + passers-by. Now and then, when he could wheedle some fractional currency + out of Margaret, he spent it like a crown-prince at The Wee Drop around + the corner. With that fine magnetism which draws together birds of a + feather, he shortly drew about him all the ne'er-do-weels of Rivermouth. + </p> + <p> + It was really wonderful what an unsuspected lot of them there was. From + all the frowzy purlieus of the town they crept forth into the sunlight to + array themselves under the banner of the prince of scallawags. It was + edifying of a summer afternoon to see a dozen of them sitting in a row, + like turtles, on the string-piece of Jedediah Rand's wharf, with their + twenty-four feet dangling over the water, assisting Mr. O'Rourke in + contemplating the islands in the harbor, and upholding the scenery, as it + were. + </p> + <p> + The rascal had one accomplishment, he had a heavenly voice—quite in + the rough, to be sure—and he played, on the violin like an angel. He + did not know one note from another, but he played in a sweet natural way, + just as Orpheus must have played, by ear. The drunker he was the more + pathos and humor he wrung from the old violin, his sole piece of personal + property. He had a singular fancy for getting up at two or three o'clock + in the morning, and playing by an open casement, to the distraction of all + the dogs in the immediate neighborhood and innumerable dogs in the + distance. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately, Mr. O'Rourke's freaks were not always of so innocent a + complexion. On one or two occasions, through an excess of animal and other + spirits, he took to breaking windows in the town. Among his nocturnal + feats he accomplished the demolition of the glass in the door of The Wee + Drop. Now, breaking windows in Rivermouth is an amusement not wholly + disconnected with an interior view of the police-station (bridewell is the + local term); so it happened that Mr. O'Rourke woke up one fine morning and + found himself snug and tight in one of the cells in the rear of the Brick + Market. His plea that the bull's-eye in the glass door of The Wee Drop + winked at him in an insult-in' manner as he was passing by did not prevent + Justice Hackett from fining the delinquent ten dollars and costs, which + made sad havoc with the poor wife's bank account. So Margaret's married + life wore on, and all went merry as a funeral knell. + </p> + <p> + After Mrs. Bilkins, with a brow as severe as that of one of the Parcæ, had + closed the door upon the O'Rourkes that summer morning, she sat down on + the stairs, and, sinking the indignant goddess in the woman, burst into + tears. She was still very wroth with Margaret Callaghan, as she persisted + in calling her; very merciless and unforgiving, as the gentler sex are apt + to be—to the gentler sex. Mr. Bilkins, however, after the first + vexation, missed Margaret from the household; missed her singing, which + was in itself as helpful as a second girl; missed her hand in the + preparation of those hundred and one nameless comforts which are + necessities to the old, and wished in his soul that he had her back again. + Who could make a gruel, when he was ill, or cook a steak, when he was + well, like Margaret? So, meeting her one morning at the fish-market—for + Mr. O'Rourke had long since given over the onerous labor of catching + dinners—he spoke to her kindly, and asked her how she liked the + change in her life, and if Mr. O'Rourke was good to her. + </p> + <p> + “Troth, thin, sur,” said Margaret, with a short, dry laugh, “he 's the + divil's own!” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was thin and careworn, and her laugh had the mild gayety of + champagne not properly corked. These things were apparent even to Mr. + Bilkins, who was not a shrewd observer. + </p> + <p> + “I 'm afraid, Margaret,” he remarked sorrowfully, “that you are not making + both ends meet.” + </p> + <p> + “Begorra, I 'd be glad if I could make one ind meet!” returned Margaret. + </p> + <p> + With a duplicity quite foreign to his nature, Mr. Bilkins gradually drew + from her the true state of affairs. Mr. O'Rourke was a very bad case + indeed; he did nothing towards her support; he was almost constantly + drunk; the little money she had laid by was melting away, and would not + last until winter. Mr. O'Rourke was perpetually coming home with a + sprained ankle, or a bruised shoulder, or a broken head. He had broken + most of the furniture in his festive hours, including the cooking-stove. + “In short,” as Mr. Bilkins said in relating the matter afterwards to Mrs. + Bilkins, “he had broken all those things which he should n't have broken, + and failed to break the one thing he ought to have broken long ago—his + neck, namely.” + </p> + <p> + The revelation which startled Mr. Bilkins most was this: in spite of all, + Margaret loved Larry with the whole of her warm Irish heart. Further than + keeping the poor creature up waiting for him until ever so much o'clock at + night, it did not appear that he treated her with personal cruelty. If he + had beaten her, perhaps she would have worshipped him. It needed only + that. + </p> + <p> + Revolving Margaret's troubles in his thoughts as he walked homeward, Mr. + Bilkins struck upon a plan by which he could help her. When this plan was + laid before Mrs. Bilkins, she opposed it with a vehemence that convinced + him she had made up her mind to adopt it. + </p> + <p> + “Never, never will I have that ungrateful woman under this roof!” cried + Mrs. Bilkins; and accordingly the next day Mr. and Mrs. O'Rourke took up + their abode in the Bilkins mansion—Margaret as cook, and Larry as + gardener. + </p> + <p> + “I 'm convanient if the owld gintleman is,” had been Mr. O'Rourke's + remark, when the proposition was submitted to him. Not that Mr. O'Rourke + had the faintest idea of gardening. He did n't know a tulip from a tomato. + He was one of those sanguine people who never hesitate to undertake + anything, and are never abashed by their herculean inability. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bilkins did not look to Margaret's husband for any great botanical + knowledge; but he was rather surprised one day when Mr. O'Rourke pointed + to the triangular bed of lilies-of-the-valley, then out of flower, and + remarked, “Thim 's a nate lot o' pur-taties ye 've got there, sur.” Mr. + Bilkins, we repeat, did not expect much from Mr. O'Rourke's skill in + gardening; his purpose was to reform the fellow if possible, and in any + case to make Margaret's lot easier. + </p> + <p> + Reestablished in her old home, Margaret broke into song again, and Mr. + O'Rourke himself promised to do very well; morally, we mean, not + agriculturally. His ignorance of the simplest laws of nature, if nature + has any simple laws, and his dense stupidity on every other subject were + heavy trials to Mr. Bilkins. Happily, Mr. Bilkins was not without a sense + of humor, else he would have found Mr. O'Rourke insupportable. Just when + the old gentleman's patience was about exhausted, the gardener would + commit some atrocity so perfectly comical that his master all but loved + him for the moment. + </p> + <p> + “Larry,” said Mr. Bilkins, one breathless afternoon in the middle of + September, “just see how the thermometer on the back porch stands.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. O'Rourke disappeared, and after a prolonged absence returned with the + monstrous announcement that the thermometer stood at 820! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bilkins looked at the man closely. He was unmistakably sober. + </p> + <p> + “Eight hundred and twenty what?” cried Mr. Bilkins, feeling very warm, as + he naturally would in so high a temperature. + </p> + <p> + “Eight hundthred an' twinty degrays, I suppose, sur.” + </p> + <p> + “Larry, you 're an idiot.” + </p> + <p> + This was obviously not to Mr. O'Rourke's taste; for he went out and + brought the thermometer, and, pointing triumphantly to the line of + numerals running parallel with the glass tube, exclaimed, “Add 'em up + yerself, thin!” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps this would not have been amusing if Mr. Bilkins had not spent the + greater part of the previous forenoon in initiating Mr. O'Rourke into the + mysteries of the thermometer. Nothing could make amusing Mr. O'Rourke's + method of setting out crocus bulbs. Mr. Bilkins had received a lot of a + very choice variety from Boston, and having a headache that morning, + turned over to Mr. O'Rourke the duty of planting them. Though he had never + seen a bulb in his life, Larry unblushingly asserted that he had set out + thousands for Sir Lucius O'Grady of O'Grady Castle, “an illegant place + intirely, wid tin miles o' garden-walks,” added Mr. O'Rourke, crushing Mr. + Bilkins, who boasted only of a few humble flower-beds. + </p> + <p> + The following day he stepped into the garden to see how Larry had done his + work. There stood the parched bulbs, carefully arranged in circles and + squares on top of the soil. + </p> + <p> + “Did n't I tell you to set out these bulbs?” cried Mr. Bilkins, + wrathfully. + </p> + <p> + “An' did n't I set 'em out?” expostulated Mr. O'Rourke. “An' ain't they a + settin' there beautiful?” + </p> + <p> + “But you should have put them into the ground, stupid!” + </p> + <p> + “Is it bury 'em, ye mane? Be jabbers! how could they iver git out agin? + Give the little jokers a fair show, Misther Bilkins!” + </p> + <p> + For two weeks Mr. O'Rourke conducted himself with comparative propriety; + that is to say, be rendered himself useless about the place, appeared + regularly at his meals, and kept sober. Perhaps the hilarious strains of + music which sometimes issued at midnight from the upper window of the + north gable were not just what a quiet, unostentatious family would + desire; but on the whole there was not much to complain of. + </p> + <p> + The third week witnessed a falling off. Though always promptly on hand at + the serving out of rations, Mr. O'Rourke did not even make a pretence of + working in the garden. He would disappear mysteriously immediately after + breakfast, and reappear with supernatural abruptness at dinner. Nobody + knew what he did with himself in the interval, until one day he was + observed to fall out of an apple-tree near the stable. His retreat + discovered, he took to the wharves and the alleys in the distant part of + the town. It soon became evident that his ways were not the ways of + temperance, and that all his paths led to The Wee Drop. + </p> + <p> + Of course Margaret tried to keep this from the family. Being a woman, she + coined excuses for him in her heart. It was a dull life for the lad, any + way, and it was worse than him that was leading Larry astray. Hours and + hours after the old people had gone to bed, she would sit without a light + in the lonely kitchen, listening for that shuffling step along the gravel + walk. Night after night she never closed her eyes, and went about the + house the next day with that smooth, impenetrable face behind which women + hide their care. + </p> + <p> + One morning found Margaret sitting pale and anxious by the kitchen stove. + O'Rourke had not come home at all. Noon came, and night, but not Larry. + Whenever Mrs. Bilkins approached her that day, Margaret was humming “Kate + Kearney” quite merrily. But when her work was done, she stole out at the + back gate and went in search of him. She scoured the neighborhood like a + madwoman. O'Rourke had not been at the 'Finnigans'. He had not been at The + Wee Drop since Monday, and this was Wednesday night. Her heart sunk within + her when she failed to find him in the police-station. Some dreadful thing + had happened to him. She came back to the house with one hand pressed + wearily against her cheek. The dawn struggled through the kitchen windows, + and fell upon Margaret crouched by the stove. + </p> + <p> + She could no longer wear her mask. When Mr. Bilkins came down she + confessed that Larry had taken to drinking again, and had not been home + for two nights. + </p> + <p> + “Mayhap he 's drownded hisself,” suggested Margaret, wringing her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Not he,” said Mr. Bilkins; “he does n't like the taste of water well + enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, thin, he does n't,” reflected Margaret, and the reflection + comforted her. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, I 'll go and look him up after breakfast,” said Mr. Bilkins. + And after breakfast, accordingly, Mr. Bilkins sallied forth with the + depressing expectation of finding Mr. O'Rourke without much difficulty. + “Come to think of it,” said the old gentleman to himself, drawing on his + white cotton gloves as he walked up Anchor Street “<i>I</i> don't want to + find him.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. + </h2> + <p> + But Mr. O'Rourke was not to be found. With amiable cynicism Mr. Bilkins + directed his steps in the first instance to the police-station, quite + confident that a bird of Mr. O'Rourke's plumage would be brought to perch + in such a cage. But not so much as a feather of him was discoverable. The + Wee Drop was not the only bacchanalian resort in Rivermouth; there were + five or six other low drinking-shops scattered about town, and through + these Mr. Bilkins went conscientiously. He then explored various blind + alleys, known haunts of the missing man, and took a careful survey of the + wharves along the river on his way home. He even shook the apple-tree near + the stable with a vague hope of bringing down Mr. O'Rourke, but brought + down nothing except a few winter apples, which, being both unripe and + unsound, were not perhaps bad representatives of the object of his search. + </p> + <p> + That evening a small boy stopped at the door of the Bilking mansion with a + straw hat, at once identified as Mr. O'Rourke's, which had been found on + Neal's Wharf. This would have told against another man; but O'Rourke was + always leaving his hat on a wharf. Margaret's distress is not to be + pictured. She fell back upon and clung to the idea that Larry had drowned + himself, not intentionally, may be; possibly he had fallen overboard while + intoxicated. + </p> + <p> + The late Mr. Buckle has informed us that death by drowning is regulated by + laws as inviolable and beautiful as those of the solar system; that a + certain percentage of the earth's population is bound to drown itself + annually, whether it wants to or not. It may be presumed, then, that + Rivermouth's proper quota of dead bodies was washed ashore during the + ensuing two months. There had been gales off the coast and pleasure + parties on the river, and between them they had managed to do a ghastly + business. But Mr. O'Rourke failed to appear among the flotsam and jetsam + which the receding tides left tangled in the piles of the River-mouth + wharves. This convinced Margaret that Larry had proved a too tempting + morsel to some buccaneering shark, or had fallen a victim to one of those + immense schools of fish which seem to have a yearly appointment with the + fishermen on this coast. From that day Margaret never saw a cod or a + mackerel brought into the house without an involuntary shudder. She + averted her head in making up the fish-balls, as if she half dreaded to + detect a faint aroma of whiskey about them. And, indeed, why might not a + man fall into the sea, be eaten, say, by a halibut, and reappear on the + scene of his earthly triumphs and defeats in the noncommittal form of + hashed fish? + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Imperial Cæsar, dead and turned to clay, + Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.” + </pre> + <p> + But, perhaps, as the conservative Horatio suggests, 't were to consider + too curiously to consider so. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bilkins had come to adopt Margaret's explanation of O'Rourke's + disappearance. He was undoubtedly drowned; had most likely drowned + himself. The hat picked up on the wharf was strong circumstantial evidence + in that direction. But one feature of the case staggered Mr. Bilkins. + O'Rourke's violin had also disappeared. Now, it required no great effort + to imagine a man throwing himself overboard under the influence of <i>mania + à potu</i>; but it was difficult to conceive of a man committing + violinicide! If the fellow went to drown himself, why did he take his + fiddle with him? He might as well have taken an umbrella or a German + student-lamp. This question troubled Mr. Bilkins a good deal first and + last. But one thing was indisputable: the man was gone—and had + evidently gone by water. + </p> + <p> + It was now that Margaret invested her husband with charms of mind and + person not calculated to make him recognizable by any one who had ever had + the privilege of knowing him in the faulty flesh. She eliminated all his + bad qualities, and projected from her imagination a Mr. O'Rourke as he + ought to have been—a species of seraphic being mixed up in some way + with a violin; and to this ideal she erected a costly headstone in the + suburban cemetery. “It would be a proud day for Larry,” observed Margaret + contemplatively, “if he could rest his oi on the illegant monumint I 've + put up to him.” If Mr. O'Rourke could have read the inscription on it, he + would never have suspected his own complicity in the matter. + </p> + <p> + But there the marble stood, sacred to his memory; and soon the snow came + down from the gray sky and covered it, and the invisible snow of weeks and + months drifted down on Margaret's heart, and filled up its fissures, and + smoothed off the sharp angles of its grief; and there was peace upon it. + </p> + <p> + Not but she sorrowed for Larry at times. Yet life had a relish to it + again; she was free, though she did not look at it in that light; she was + happier in a quiet fashion than she had ever been, though she would not + have acknowledged it to herself. She wondered that she had the heart to + laugh when the ice-man made love to her. Perhaps she was conscious of + something comically incongruous in the warmth of a gentleman who spent all + winter in cutting ice, and all summer in dealing it out to his customers. + She had not the same excuse for laughing at the baker; yet she laughed + still more merrily at him when he pressed her hand over the steaming loaf + of brown-bread, delivered every Saturday morning at the scullery door. + Both these gentlemen had known Margaret many years, yet neither of them + had valued her very highly until another man came along and married her. A + widow, it would appear, is esteemed in some sort as a warranted article, + being stamped with the maker's name. + </p> + <p> + There was even a third lover in prospect; for according to the gossip of + the town, Mr. Donnehugh was frequently to be seen of a Sunday afternoon + standing in the cemetery and regarding Mr. O'Rourke's headstone with + unrestrained satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + A year had passed away, and certain bits of color blossoming among + Margaret's weeds indicated that the winter of her mourning was oyer. The + ice-man and the baker were hating each other cordially, and Mrs. Bilkins + was daily expecting it would be discovered before night that Margaret had + married one or both of them. But to do Margaret justice, she was faithful + in thought and deed to the memory of O'Rourke—not the O'Rourke who + disappeared so strangely, but the O'Rourke who never existed. + </p> + <p> + “D' ye think, mum,” she said one day to Mrs. Bilkins, as that lady was + adroitly sounding her on the ice question—“d' ye think I 'd + condescind to take up wid the likes o' him, or the baker either, afther + sich a man as Larry?” + </p> + <p> + The rectified and clarified O'Rourke was a permanent wonder to Mr. + Bilkins, who bore up under the bereavement with noticeable resignation. + </p> + <p> + “Peggy is right,” said the old gentleman, who was superintending the + burning out of the kitchen flue. “She won't find another man like Larry + O'Rourke in a hurry.” + </p> + <p> + “Thrue for ye, Mr. Bilkins,” answered Margaret. “Maybe there's as good + fish in the say as iver was caught, but I don't be-lave it, all the same.” + </p> + <p> + As good fish in the sea! The words recalled to Margaret the nature of her + loss, and she went on with her work in silence. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “What—what is it, Ezra?” cried Mrs. Bilkins, changing color, and + rising hastily from the breakfast table. Her first thought was of + apoplexy. + </p> + <p> + There sat Mr. Bilkins, with his wig pushed back from his forehead, and his + eyes fixed vacantly on The Weekly Chronicle, which he held out at arm's + length before him. + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Ezra! what <i>is</i> the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bilkins turned his eyes upon her mechanically, as if he were a great + wax-doll, and somebody had pulled his wire. + </p> + <p> + “Can't you speak, Ezra?” + </p> + <p> + His lips opened, and moved inarticulately; then he pointed a rigid finger, + in the manner of a guide-board, at a paragraph in the paper, which he held + up for Mrs. Bilkins to read over his shoulder. When she had read it she + sunk back into her chair without a word, and the two sat contemplating + each other as if they had never met before in this world, and were not + overpleased at meeting. + </p> + <p> + The paragraph which produced this singular effect on the aged couple + occurred at the end of a column of telegraph despatches giving the details + of an unimportant engagement that had just taken place between one of the + blockading squadron and a Confederate cruiser. The engagement itself does + not concern us, but this item from the list of casualties on the Union + side has a direct bearing on our narrative:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>Larry O'Rourke, seaman, splinter wound in the leg. + Not serious</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + That splinter flew far. It glanced from Mr. O'Rourke's leg, went plumb + through the Bilkins mansion, and knocked over a small marble slab in the + Old South Burying Ground. + </p> + <p> + If a ghost had dropped in familiarly to breakfast, the constraint and + consternation of the Bilkins family could not have been greater. How was + the astounding intelligence to be broken to Margaret? Her explosive Irish + nature made the task one of extreme delicacy. Mrs. Bilkins flatly declared + herself incapable of undertaking it. Mr. Bilkins, with many misgivings as + to his fitness, assumed the duty; for it would never do to have the news + sprung suddenly upon Margaret by people outside. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. O'Rourke was clearing away the breakfast things, Mr. Bilkins, who + had lingered near the window with the newspaper in his hand, coughed once + or twice in an unnatural way to show that he was not embarrassed, and + began to think that may be it would be best to tell Margaret after dinner. + Mrs. Bilkins fathomed his thought with that intuition which renders women + terrible, and sent across the room an eye-telegram to this effect, “Now is + your time.” + </p> + <p> + “There 's been another battle down South, Margaret,” said the old + gentleman presently, folding up the paper and putting it in his pocket. “A + sea-fight this time.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure, an' they 're allus fightin' down there.” + </p> + <p> + “But not always with so little damage. There was only one man wounded on + our side.” + </p> + <p> + “Pore man! It's sorry we oughter be for his wife an' childer, if he's got + any.” + </p> + <p> + “Not badly wounded, you will understand, Margaret—not at all + seriously wounded; only a splinter in the leg.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, thin, a splinter in the leg is no pleasant thing in itself.” + </p> + <p> + “A mere scratch,” said Mr. Bilkins lightly, as if he were constantly in + the habit of going about with a splinter in his own leg, and found it + rather agreeable. “The odd part of the matter is the man's first name. His + first name was Larry.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret nodded, as one should say, There's a many Larrys in the world. + </p> + <p> + “But the oddest part of it,” continued Mr. Bilkins, in a carelessly + sepulchral voice, “is the man's last name.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the tone of his voice made Margaret look at him, and + something in the expression of his face caused the blood to fly from + Margaret's cheek. + </p> + <p> + “The man's last name!” she repeated, wonderingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, his last name—O'Rourke.” + </p> + <p> + “D'ye mane it?” shrieked Margaret—“d' ye mane it? Glory to God! O + worra! worra!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Ezra,” said Mrs. Bilking, in one of those spasms of base + ingratitude to which even the most perfect women are liable, “you 've made + nice work of it. You might as well have knocked her down with an axe!” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear”— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bother!—my smelling-bottle, quick!—second bureau drawer—left-hand + side.” + </p> + <p> + Joy never kills; it is a celestial kind of hydrogen of which it seems + impossible to get too much at one inhalation. In an hour Margaret was able + to converse with comparative calmness on the resuscitation of Larry + O'Rourke, whom the firing of a cannon had brought to the surface as if he + had been in reality a drowned body. + </p> + <p> + Now that the whole town was aware of Mr. O'Rourke's fate, his friend Mr. + Donne-hugh came forward with a statement that would have been of some + interest at an earlier period, but was of no service as matters stood, + except so far as it assisted in removing from Mr. Bilkins's mind a passing + doubt as to whether the Larry O'Rourke of the telegraphic reports was + Margaret's scape-grace of a husband. Mr. Donnehugh had known all along + that O'Rourke had absconded to Boston by a night train and enlisted in the + navy. It was the possession of this knowledge that had made it impossible + for Mr. Donnehugh to look at Mr. O'Rourke's gravestone without grinning. + </p> + <p> + At Margaret's request, and in Margaret's name, Mr. Bilkins wrote three or + four letters to O'Rourke, and finally succeeded in extorting an epistle + from that gentleman, in which he told Margaret to cheer up, that his + fortune was as good as made, and that the day would come when she should + ride through the town in her own coach, and no thanks to old flint-head, + who pretended to be so fond of her. Mr. Bilkins tried to conjecture who + was meant by old flint-head, but was obliged to give it up. Mr. O'Rourke + furthermore informed Margaret that he had three hundred dollars + prize-money coming to him, and broadly intimated that when he got home he + intended to have one of the most extensive blow-outs ever witnessed in + Rivermouth. + </p> + <p> + “Och!” laughed Margaret, “that's jist Larry over agin. The pore lad was + allus full of his nonsense an' spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “That he was,” said Mr. Bilkins, dryly. + </p> + <p> + Content with the fact that her husband was in the land of the living, + Margaret gave herself no trouble over the separation. O'Rourke had shipped + for three years; one third of his term of service was past, and two years + more, God willing, would see him home again. This was Margaret's view of + it. Mr. Bilkins's view of it was not so cheerful The prospect of Mr. + O'Rourke's ultimate return was anything but enchanting. Mr. Bilkins was by + no means disposed to kill the fatted calf. He would much rather have + killed the Prodigal Son. However, there was always this chance: he might + never come back. + </p> + <p> + The tides rose and fell at the Rivermouth wharves; the summer moonlight + and the winter snow, in turn, bleached its quiet streets; and the two + years had nearly gone by. In the mean time nothing had been heard of + O'Rourke. If he ever received the five or six letters sent to him, he did + not fatigue himself by answering them. + </p> + <p> + “Larry's all right,” said hopeful Margaret. “If any harum had come to the + gossoon, we'd have knowed it. It's the bad news that travels fast.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Bilkins was not so positive about that. It had taken a whole year to + find out that O'Rourke had not drowned himself. + </p> + <p> + The period of Mr. O'Rourke's enlistment had come to an end. Two months + slipped by, and he had neglected to brighten River-mouth with his + presence. There were many things that might have detained him, + difficulties in getting his prize-papers or in drawing his pay; but there + was no reason why he might not have written. The days were beginning to + grow long to Margaret, and vague forebodings of misfortune possessed her. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps we had better look up Mr. O'Rourke. + </p> + <p> + He had seen some rough times, during those three years, and some harder + work than catching cunners at the foot of Anchor Street, or setting out + crocuses in Mr. Bil-kins's back garden. He had seen battles and shipwreck, + and death in many guises; but they had taught him nothing, as the sequel + will show. With his active career in the navy we shall not trouble + ourselves; we take him up at a date a little prior to the close of his + term of service. + </p> + <p> + Several months before, he had been transferred from the blockading + squadron to a gun-boat attached to the fleet operating against the forts + defending New Orleans. The forts had fallen, the fleet had passed on to + the city, and Mr. O'Rourke's ship lay off in the stream, binding up her + wounds. In three days he would receive his discharge, and the papers + entitling him to a handsome amount of prize-money in addition to his pay. + With noble contempt for so much good fortune, Mr. O'Rourke dropped over + the bows of the gun-boat one evening and managed to reach the levee. In + the city he fell in with some soldiers, and, being of a convivial nature, + caroused with them that night, and next day enlisted in a cavalry + regiment. + </p> + <p> + Desertion in the face of the enemy—for, though the city lay under + Federal guns, it was still hostile enough—involved the heaviest + penalties. O'Rourke was speedily arrested with other deserters, tried by + court-martial, and sentenced to death. + </p> + <p> + The intelligence burst like a shell upon the quiet household in Anchor + Street, listening daily for the sound of Larry O'Rourke's footstep on the + threshold. It was a heavy load for Margaret to bear, after all those years + of patient vigil. But the load was to be lightened for her. In + consideration of O'Rourke's long service, and in view of the fact that his + desertion so near the expiration of his time was an absurdity, the Good + President commuted his sentence to imprisonment for life, with loss of + prize-money and back pay. Mr. O'Rourke was despatched North, and placed in + Moyamensing Prison. + </p> + <p> + If joy could kill, Margaret would have been a dead woman the day these + tidings reached Rivermouth; and Mr. Bilkins himself would have been in a + critical condition, for, though he did not want O'Rourke shot or hanged, + he was delighted to have him permanently shelved. + </p> + <p> + After the excitement was over, and this is always the trying time, + Margaret accepted the situation philosophically. + </p> + <p> + “The pore lad's out o' harum's rache, any way,” she reflected. “He can't + be git-tin' into hot wather now, and that's a fact. And maybe after + awhiles they 'll let him go agin. They let out murtherers and thaves and + sich like, and Larry's done no hurt to nobody but hisself.” + </p> + <p> + Margaret was inclined to be rather severe on President Lincoln for taking + away Larry's prize-money. The impression was strong on her mind that the + money went into Mr. Lincoln's private exchequer. + </p> + <p> + “I would n't wonder if Misthress Lincoln had a new silk gownd or two this + fall,” Margaret would remark, sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + The prison rules permitted Mr. O'Rourke to receive periodical + communications “from his friends outside.” Once every quarter Mr. Bilkins + wrote him a letter, and in the interim Margaret kept him supplied with + those doleful popular ballads, printed on broadsides, which one sees + pinned up for sale on the iron railings of city churchyards, and seldom + anywhere else. They seem the natural exhalations of the mould and pathos + of such places, but we have a suspicion that they are written by + sentimental young undertakers. Though these songs must have been a solace + to Mr. O'Rourke in his captivity, he never so far forgot himself as to + acknowledge their receipt. It was only through the kindly chaplain of the + prison that Margaret was now and then advised of the well-being of her + husband. + </p> + <p> + Towards the close of that year the great O'Rourke himself did condescend + to write one letter. As this letter has never been printed, and as it is + the only specimen extant of Mr. O'Rourke's epistolary manner, we lay it + before the reader <i>verbatim et literatim</i>:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <i>febuary. 1864 mi belovid wife + fur the luv of God sind mee pop gose the wezel. + yours till deth</i> + . <i>larry O rourke.</i> +</pre> + <p> + “Pop goes the Weasel” was sent to him, and Mr. Bilkins ingeniously slipped + into the same envelope “The Drunkard's Death” and “Beware of the Bowl,” + two spirited compositions well calculated to exert a salutary influence + over a man imprisoned for life. + </p> + <p> + There is nothing in this earthly existence so uncertain as what seems to + be a certainty. To all appearances, the world outside of Moyamensing + Prison was forever a closed book to O'Rourke. But the Southern Confederacy + collapsed, the General Amnesty Proclamation was issued, cell doors were + thrown open; and one afternoon Mr. Larry O'Rourke, with his head neatly + shaved, walked into the Bilkins kitchen and frightened Margaret nearly out + of her skin. + </p> + <p> + Mr. O'Rourke's summing up of his case was characteristic: “I 've been kilt + in battle, hanged by the court-martial, put into the lock-up for life, and + here I am, bedad, not a ha'p'orth the worse for it.” + </p> + <p> + None the worse for it, certainly, and none the better. By no stretch of + magical fiction can we make an angel of him. He is not at all the material + for an apotheosis. It was not for him to reform and settle down, and + become a respectable, oppressed tax-payer. His conduct in Rivermouth, + after his return, was a repetition of his old ways. Margaret all but broke + down under the tests to which he put her affections, and came at last to + wish that Larry had never got out of Moyamensing Prison. + </p> + <p> + If any change had taken place in Mr. O'Rourke, it showed itself in + occasional fits of sullenness towards Margaret. It was in one of these + moods that he slouched his hat over his brows, and told her she need not + wait dinner for him. + </p> + <p> + It will be a cold dinner, if Margaret has kept it waiting; for two years + have gone by since that day, and O'Rourke has not come home. + </p> + <p> + Possibly he is off on a whaling voyage; possibly the swift maelstrom has + dragged him down; perhaps he is lifting his hand to knock at the door of + the Bilkins mansion as we pen these words. But Margaret does not watch for + him impatiently any more. There are strands of gray in her black hair. She + has had her romance. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Rivermouth Romance, by Thomas Bailey Aldrich + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RIVERMOUTH ROMANCE *** + +***** This file should be named 23358-h.htm or 23358-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/3/5/23358/ + +Produced by David Widger + +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. 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