CHAPTER VIII
AN AFTER-DINNER GAME
Easiness, the failing of the old-world Irishman, had been Uncle Ulick'sbane through life. It was easiness which had induced him to condone abaseness in his nephew which he would have been the first to condemn ina stranger. And again it was easiness which had beguiled him intostanding idle while the brother's influence was creeping likestrangling ivy over the girl's generous nature; while her bestinstincts were being withered by ridicule, her generosity abused bymeanness, and her sense of right blunted by such acts of lawlessness asthe seizure of the smuggling vessel. He feared, if he did not know,that things were going ill. He saw the blighting shadow of Asgill beginto darken the scene. He believed that The McMurrough, unable to raisemoney on the estate--since he had no title--was passing under Asgill'scontrol. And still he had not raised his voice.
But, above all, it was easiness which had induced Uncle Ulick tocountenance in Flavia those romantic notions, now fast developing intofull-blown plans, which he, who had seen the world in his youth, shouldhave blasted; which he, who could recall the humiliation of Boyne Waterand the horrors of '90, he, who knew somewhat, if only a little, of thestrength of England and the weakness of Ireland, should have been thefirst to nip in the bud.
He had not nipped them. Instead, he had allowed the reckless patriotismof the young O'Beirnes, the predatory instincts of O'Sullivan Og, thesimulated enthusiasm--for simulated he knew it to be--of the youngMcMurrough to guide the politics of the house and to bring it to theverge of a crisis. The younger generation and their kin, the Sullivans,the Mahoneys, the O'Beirnes, bred in this remote corner, leading a wildand almost barbarous life, deriving such sparks of culture as reachedthem from foreign sources and through channels wilder than their life,were no judges of their own weakness or of the power opposed to them.But he was. He knew, and had known, that it became him, as the Nestorof the party, to point out the folly of their plans. Instead, he hadbowed to the prevailing feeling. For--be it his excuse--he, too, wasIrish! He, too, felt his heart too large for his bosom when he dwelt onhis country's wrongs. On him, too, though he knew that successfulrebellion was out of the question, Flavia's generous indignation, heryouth, her enthusiasm, wrought powerfully. And at times, in moments ofirritation, he, too, saw red, and dreamed of a last struggle forfreedom.
At this point, at a moment when the crisis, grown visible, could nolonger be masked, had arrived John Sullivan, a man of experience. Hisvery aspect sobered Uncle Ulick's mind. The latter saw that only ablacker and more hopeless night could follow the day of vengeance ofwhich he dreamt; and he sat this evening--while Asgill talked on thehill with The McMurrough--he sat this evening by the light of thepeat-fire, and was sore troubled. Was it, or was it not, too late? Heoccupied the great chair in which Sir Michael had so often conned hisScudery of winter evenings; but though he filled the chair, he knewthat he had neither the will nor the mastery of its old owner. If ithad not passed already, the thing might easily pass beyond his staying.Meanwhile, Flavia sat on a stool on the farther side of theblaze--until supper was on the board they used no other light--broodingbitterly over the loss of her mare; and he knew that that incidentwould not make things more easy. For here was tyranny brought to anevery-day level; oppression that pricked to the quick! The Saxons, whohad risen for a mere poundage against their anointed king, did notscruple to make slaves, ay, real slaves, of a sister and a more ancientpeople! But the cup was full and running over, and they should rue it!A short day and they would find opposed to them the wrath, the fury,the despair of a united people and an ancient faith. Something likethis Flavia had been saying to him.
Then silence had fallen. And now he made answer.
"I'm low at heart about it, none the less," he said. "War, my girl, isa very dreadful thing." He had in his mind the words Colonel John hadused to him on that subject.
"And what is slavery?" she replied. There were red spots in her cheeks,and her eyes shone.
"But if the yoke be made heavier, my jewel, and not lighter?"
"Then let us die!" she answered. "Let there be an end! For it is time.But let us die free! As it is, do we not blush to own that we areIrish? Is not our race the handmaid among nations? Then let us die!What have we to live for? Our souls they will not leave us, our bodiesthey enslave, they take our goods! What is left, Uncle Ulick?" shecontinued passionately.
"Just to endure," he said sadly, "till better times. Or what if we makethings worse? Believe me, Flavvy, the last rising----"
"Rising!" she cried. "Rising! Why do you call it that? It was norising! It was the English who rose, and we who remained faithful toour king. It was they who betrayed, and we who paid the penalty fortreason! Rising!"
"Call it what you like, my dear," he answered patiently, "'tis notforgotten."
"Nor forgiven!" she cried fiercely.
"True! But the spirit is broken in us. If it were not, we should haverisen three years back, when the Scotch rose. There was a chance then.But for us by ourselves there is no chance and no hope. And in thislittle corner what do we know or hear? God forgive us, 'tis only whatcomes from France and Spain by the free-traders that we'll be hearing."
"Uncle Ulick!" she answered, looking fixedly at him, "I know where youget that from! I know who has been talking to you, and who"--her voicetrembled with anger--"has upset the house! It's meet that one who hasleft the faith of his fathers, and turned his back on his country inher trouble--it is well that he should try to make others act as he hasacted, and be false as he has been false! Caring for nothing himself,cold, and heartless----"
He was about to interrupt her, but on the word the door opened and herbrother and Asgill entered, shaking the moisture from their coats. Ithad begun to rain as they returned along the edge of the lake. Shedashed the tears from her eyes and was silent.
"Sure, and you've got a fine colour, my girl," The McMurrough said."Any news of the mare?" he continued, as he took the middle of thehearth and spread his skirts to the blaze, Asgill remaining in thebackground. Then, as she shook her head despondently--the presence ofAsgill had driven her into herself--"Bet you a hundred crowns to one,Asgill," he said, with a grin, "cousin Sullivan don't recover her!"
"I couldn't afford to take it," Asgill answered, smiling. "But if MissFlavia had chosen me for her ambassador in place of him that'sgone----"
"She might have had a better, and couldn't have had a worse!" Jamessaid, with a loud laugh. "It's supper-time," he continued, after he hadturned to the fire, and kicked the turfs together, "and late, too!Where's Darby? There's never anything but waiting in this house. Isuppose you are not waiting for the mare? If you are, it's emptyinsides we'll all be having for a week of weeks."
"I'm much afraid of that," Uncle Ulick answered, as the girl rose.Uncle Ulick could never do anything but fall in with the prevailinghumour.
Flavia paused half-way across the floor and listened. "What's that?"she asked, raising her hand for silence. "Didn't you hear something? Ithought I heard a horse."
"You didn't hear a mare," her brother retorted, grinning. "In themeantime, miss, I'd be having you know we're hungry. And----"
He stopped, startled by a knock on the door. The girl hesitated, thenshe stepped to it, and threw it wide. Confronting her across thethreshold, looking ghostly against the dark background of the night, agrey horse threw up its head and, dazzled by the light, started back apace--then blithered gently. In a twinkling, before the men had graspedthe truth, Flavia had sprung across the threshold, her arms were roundher favourite's neck, she was covering its soft muzzle with kisses.
"The saints defend us!" Uncle Ulick cried. "It is the mare!"
In his surprise The McMurrough forgot himself, his role, the company."D--n!" he said. Fortunately Uncle Ulick was engrossed in the scene atthe door, and the girl was outside. Neither heard.
Asgill's mortification, as may be believed, was a hundred times deeper.But his quicker brain had taken in the thing and its consequences onthe instant. And he stood sile
nt.
"She's found her way back!" The McMurrough exclaimed, recoveringhimself.
"Ay, lad, that must be it," Uncle Ulick replied. "She's got loose andfound her way back to her stable, heaven be her bed! And them that tookher are worse by the loss of five pounds!"
"Broken necks to them!" The McMurrough cried viciously.
But at that moment the door, which led to the back of the house and theoffices, opened, and Colonel John stepped in, a smile on his face. Helaid his damp cloak on a bench, hung up his hat and whip, and nodded toUlick.
"The Lord save us! is it you've brought her back?" the big manexclaimed.
The Colonel nodded. "I thought"--he looked towards the open door--"itwould please her to find the creature so!"
The McMurrough stood speechless with mortification. It was Asgill whostepped forward and spoke. "I give you joy, Colonel Sullivan," he said."It is small chance I thought you had."
"I can believe you," the Colonel answered quietly. If he did not knowmuch he suspected a good deal.
Before more could be said Flavia McMurrough turned herself about andcame in and saw Colonel Sullivan. Her face flamed hotly, as the wordswhich she had just used about him recurred to her; she could almosthave wished the mare away again, if the obligation went with her. Toowe the mare to him! Yes, she would have preferred to lose the mare!
But the thing was done, and she found words at last; but cold words. "Iam very much obliged to you," she said, "if it was really you whobrought her back."
"It was I who brought her back," he answered quietly, hurt by her wordsand manner, but hiding the hurt. "You need not thank me, however; I didit very willingly."
She felt the meanness of her attitude, and "I do thank you!" she said,straining at warmth, but with poor success. "I am very grateful to you,Colonel Sullivan, for the service you have done me."
"And wish another had done it!" he answered, with the faintest tinge ofreproach in his voice. It was a slip from his usual platform, but hecould not deny himself.
"No! But that you would serve another as effectively," she responded.
He did not see her drift. And "What other?" he asked.
"Your country," she replied. And, turning to the door again, she wentout into the night, to see that the mare was safely disposed.
The four men looked at one another, and Uncle Ulick shrugged hisshoulders, as much as to say, "We all know what women are!" Thenfeeling a storm in the air, he spoke for the sake of speaking. "Well,James," he said, "she's got her mare, and you've lost your wager. It'sgood-bye to the brandy, anyway. And, faith, it'll be good news for thelittle French captain. For you, John Sullivan, I give you joy. You'llamend us all at this rate, and make Kerry as peaceable as the FourCourts out of term time! Sure, and I begin to think you're one of theLittle People!" As he spoke he slapped Colonel John on the shoulders.
"About the brandy," The McMurrough said curtly. "Things are by way ofbeing changed, I'd have you know. And I'm not going to forgo a goodship----"
"No, no, a bet's a bet," Uncle Ulick interposed hurriedly. "Mr. Asgillwas here, and----"
"I'm with you," Asgill said. "Colonel Sullivan's won the right to havehis way, and it's better so too, and safer. Faith and I'm glad," hecontinued cordially, "for there might have been trouble, and nowthere'll be none!"
"Well, it's not I'll tell O'Sullivan Og," James McMurrough retorted."It's little he'll like to give up the stuff, and, in my opinion," headded sullenly, "there's more than us will have a word to say to itbefore it's given up. But you can judge of that for yourselves."
"Mr. Crosby, of Castlemaine----"
"Oh, d--n! It's little he'll count in a week from this!"
"Still, I've no doubt Colonel Sullivan will arrange it," Asgillanswered smoothly. It was evident that he thought The McMurrough wassaying too much. "Sure he's managed a harder thing."
There was a gleam in his eye and a something sinister in the tone as hesaid it; but the words were hearty, and Colonel John made no demur. AndDarby, entering at that moment with a pair of lights in tallcandlesticks--which were silver, but might have been copper--caused awelcome interruption. A couple of footboys, with slipshod feet and bareankles, bore in the meats after him and slapped them down on the table;at the same moment the O'Beirnes and two or three more of the "family"entered from the back. Their coming lightened the air. They had to hearthe news, and pass their opinion upon it. Questions were asked: Where'dthe Colonel light on the cratur, and how'd he persuaded the Protestantrogues--ah, be jabbers, begging his honour's pardon entirely!--how'd hepersuaded the rogues to give her up? Colonel John refused to say, butlaughingly. The O'Beirnes and the others were in a good humour, pleasedthat the young mistress had recovered her favourite, and inclined tolook more leniently on the Colonel. "Faith, and it's clear that you'rea Sullivan!" quoth one. "There's none like them to put the comether onman and beast!"
This was not much to the taste of The McMurrough or of Asgill, who,inwardly raging, saw the interloper founding a reputation on the rusewhich they had devised for another end. It was abruptly and with an illgrace that the master of the house cut short the scene and bade all sitdown if they wanted their meat.
"What are we waiting for?" he continued querulously. "Where's the girl?Stop your jabbering, Martin! And Phelim----"
"Sure, I believe the mare's got from her," Uncle Ulick cried. "I hearda horse, no farther back than this moment."
"I'm wishing all horses in Purgatory," The McMurrough replied angrily."And fools too! Where's the wench gone? Anyway, I'm beginning. You canbide her time if you like!"
And begin he did. The others, after looking expectantly at thedoor--for none dared treat Flavia as her brother treated her--and afterAsgill had said something about waiting for her, fell to also, one byone. Presently the younger of the slipshod footboys let fall adish--fortunately the whole service was of pewter, so no harm wasdone--and was cursed for awkwardness. Where was Darby? He also hadvanished.
The claret began to go round in the old Spanish silver jug--for nohouse in the west lacked Bordeaux in those days; it was called inLondon coffee-houses Irish wine. Still, neither Flavia nor the butlerreturned, and many were the glances cast at the door. By-and-by theColonel--who felt that a cloud hung over the board, as over his ownspirits--saw, or fancied that he saw, an odd thing. The door--thatwhich led to the back of the house--opened, as if the draught moved it;it remained open a space, then in a silent, ghostly fashion it fell-toagain. The Colonel laid down his knife, and Uncle Ulick, whose eyes hadfollowed his, crossed himself. "That's not lucky," the big man said,his face troubled. "The saints send it's not the white horse of theO'Donoghues has whisked her off!"
"Don't be for saying such unchancy things, Mr. Sullivan!" Phelimanswered, with a shiver. And he, too, crossed himself. "What was it, atall, at all?"
"The door opened without a hand," Uncle Ulick explained. "I'm fearingthere's something amiss."
"Not with this salmon," James McMurrough struck in contemptuously. "Eatyour supper and leave those tales to the women!"
Uncle Ulick made no reply, and a moment later Darby entered, slid roundthe table to Uncle Ulick's side, and touched his shoulder. Whether hewhispered a word or not Colonel John did not observe, but forthwith thebig man rose and went out.
This time it was James McMurrough who laid down his knife. "What in thename of the Evil One is it?" he cried, in a temper. "Can't a man eathis meat in peace, but all the world must be tramping the floor?"
"Oh, whisht! whisht!" Darby muttered, in a peculiar tone.
James leapt up. He was too angry to take a hint. "You old fool!" hecried, heedless of Asgill's hand, which was plucking at his skirts."What is it? What do you mean with your 'whishts' and your nods?What----"
But the old butler had turned his back on his master, and gone out in apanic. Fortunately at this moment Flavia showed at the door. "Thefault's mine, James," she said, in a clear, loud tone. And the Colonelsaw that her colour was high and her eyes were dancing. "I couldn'tbear to lea
ve her at once, the darling! That was it; and besides, Itook a fear----"
"The pastern's right enough," Uncle Ulick struck in, entering behindher and closing the door with the air of a big man who does not mean tobe trifled with. "Sound as your own light foot, my jewel, and sounderthan James's head! Be easy, be easy, lad," he continued, with a trifleof sternness. "Sure, you're spoiling other men's meat, and forgettingthe Colonel's present, not to speak of Mr. Asgill, that, being aJustice, is not used to our Kerry tantrums!"
Possibly this last was a hint, cunningly veiled. At any rate, TheMcMurrough took his seat again with a better grace than usual, andAsgill made haste to take up the talk. The Colonel reflected; nor didhe find it the least odd thing that Flavia, who had been so full ofdistress at the loss of her mare, said little of the rescuer'sadventures, nor much of the mare herself. Yet the girl's eyes sparkled,and her whole aspect was changed in the last hour. She seemed, as faras he could judge, to be in a state of the utmost excitement; she hadshaken off the timidity which her brother's temper too often imposed onher, and with it her reticence and her shyness before strangers. Allthe Irish humour in her fluttered to the surface, and her tongue ranwith an incredible gaiety. Uncle Ulick, the O'Beirnes, the buckeens,laughed frank admiration--sometimes at remarks which the Colonel couldnot understand, sometimes at more obvious witticisms. Asgill was herslave. Darby, with the familiarity of the old servant, chuckled openlyand rubbed his hands at her sallies; the footboys guffawed in corners,and more than one dish rolled on the floor without drawing down arebuke. Even her brother regarded her with unwilling amusement, and didnot always refrain from applause.
Could all this, could the change in her spring from the recovery of themare, of which she said scarce a word? Colonel John could hardlybelieve it; and, indeed, if such were the case, she was ungrateful.For, for the recoverer of her favourite she had no words, and scarce alook. Rather, it seemed to him that there must be two Flavias: the oneshy, modest, and, where her country was not assailed, of a reservebeyond reproach; the other Flavia, a shoot of the old tree, a hoyden, acastback to Sir Michael's wild youth and the gay days of theRestoration Court.
He listened to her drollery, her ringing laugh, her arch sayings withsome blame, but more admiration. After all, what had he a right toexpect in this remote corner of the land, cut off by twenty leagues ofbog and mountain from modern refinement, culture, thought, in this oldtribal house, the last refuge of a proscribed faith and a hated race?Surely, no more than he found--nay, not a tithe of that he found. For,listening with a kindlier heart--even he, hurt by her neglect, hadjudged her for a while too harshly--he discerned that at her wildestand loudest, in the act of bandying cryptic jests with the buckeens,and uttering much that was thoughtless--Flavia did not suffer one lightor unmaidenly word to pass her lips.
He gave her credit for that; and in the act he learned, with areflection on his stupidity, that there was method in her madness; ay,and meaning--but he had not hitherto held the key to it--in her jests.On a sudden--he saw now that this was the climax to which she had beenleading up--she sprang to her feet, carried away by her excitement.Erect, defiant--nay, triumphant--she flung her handkerchief into themiddle of the table, strewn as it was with a medley of glasses andflasks and disordered dishes.
"Who loves me, follows me!" she cried, a queer exultation in hertone--"across the water!"
They pounced on the kerchief, like dogs let loose from the leash--everyman but the astonished Colonel. For an instant the place was apandemonium, a Babel. In a twinkling the kerchief was torn, amid criesof the wildest enthusiasm, into as many fragments as there were menround the table.
"All!--all!" she cried, still standing erect, and hounding them on withthe magic of her voice, while her beautiful face blazed withexcitement. "All--but you?"--with which, for the briefest space, sheturned to Colonel John. Her eyes met his. They asked him a defiantquestion: they challenged the answer.
"I do not understand," he replied, taken by surprise. But indeed he didunderstand only too well. "Is it a game?"
The men were pinning the white shreds on their coats above theirhearts--even her brother, obedient for once. But at that word theyturned as one man to him, turned flushed, frowning faces and passionateeyes on him. But Flavia was before them; excitement had carried herfarther than she had meant to go, yet prudence had not quite left her."Yes, a game!" she cried, laughing, a note too high. "Don't you knowthe Lady's Kerchief?"
"No," he said soberly; he was even a little out of countenance.
"Then no more of it," Uncle Ulick cried, interposing, with a ring ofauthority in his voice. "For my part, I'm for bed. Bed! We're allchildren, bedad, and as fond of a frolic! And I'm thinking I'm theworst. The lights, Darby, the lights, and pleasant dreams to you! Afterall--
The spoke that is to-day on top, To-morrow's on the ground.
Sure, and I'll swear that's true!"
"And no treason!" The McMurrough answered him, with a grin. "Eh,Asgill?"
And so between them they removed Colonel John's last doubt--if he hadone.
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