CHAPTER VIII.
EAVESDROPPING.
The Eumenides galloped in full cry after my lady. Their quarry was rundown, scrambled up and staggered on again--was near the end of the runnow. When Shane, apple of his mother's eye, gave the last unconsciousstab, she bore it without wincing, and sat up and attempted a wintrysmile, as he had bidden her. The goblet which, through her strength ofcharacter, she had been able to push aside during many years, was heldat her lips by a ruthless hand, and must be drained. There was no helpfor it. She must go and grovel before the hated Gillin, and pray herin mercy to remove the obnoxious Norah. There was nothing else for it.Schemes had miscarried, plots had fallen through. What a sorryspectacle is a harried mortal in the death-grip of the hags of Ate!
Even a year's absence at Glas-aitch-e had not blurred the memory ofNorah in the heart of the young prodigal. Gillin still beguiled him tothe Little House--the knavish, cruel woman! What steadiness of purposeshe had shown all through her relentless course! And now she waswaiting in her den with cool assurance to consummate her fiendishwork. What a terrible thing to have to bow down and implore mercy fromthis common, vulgar wretch! Would she even now, with her rival at herfeet, be merciful? Or would she, with the inherent ungenerosity of alow nature, spurn and deride the victim? Be that as it might, theordeal must be assayed. It was no use to shake the fist at sereneheaven in the impotence of rage. That would in nowise mend matters,and was silly besides. My lady resolved at last to take her cup anddrink the draught, since there was no avoiding it. For several daysshe waited, hoping against hope for a means of escape. None came. Sheaccepted the position, put on her hood, and sallied forth on theself-same afternoon upon which Terence decided to speak out to Shane.
Madam Gillin, in her amazement, swept down the jam-pots which she wasstowing in a cupboard when Norah tore breathless up the stairs toannounce that a leedy was coming up the walk who was no other than theCountess of Glandore.
'Holy Mother!' she ejaculated. The moment was come then--at last! andthe two were to speak out, face to face. It could only be on onesubject--an unpleasant interview. What could induce the countess nowto strike her colours, and come of her own accord, who for years haddeclined to acknowledge her neighbour's existence? The haughtycountess must be hard pressed indeed to humble herself in this wise.Peeping through shutter-chinks, she beheld the stately figure of mylady--as straight as an arrow, shrouded in a silken wrapper, movingslowly towards her door, and screamed out orders to Jug to get out herbest gown instantly, and place some wine on the parlour table.
My lady was kept waiting for fully half an hour, while the mistress ofthe Little House was arranging her war-paint, during which time shehad leisure to glance round the adornments of the chamber--bright,big, showy, glowing and rubicund, blatant with varnished newness--sodifferent from the cobwebbed dignity of the black oak and tapestry atthe Abbey. The ceiling was painted in the Italian style, with cloudson cerulean ether like bits of cotton-wool. The floor was thicklycarpeted, the windows heavily curtained--for the judges, when theycame to carouse with their gay hostess, liked what was snug and cosy.Over the chimney-piece were two portraits, side by side, at which mylady frowned--the late Lord Glandore and Norah. The woman wasevidently shameless, to place my lord's portrait so _en evidence_.This long delay was, no doubt, a premeditated insult. The original ofthe second portrait, conscious that it was rude of her mamma to be solong in dressing, skimmed down the stairs and banged open the door tomake a good-humoured apology, but closed it quickly and retreated--theaspect of the old lady was so forbidding as she stood upright in thecentre of the floor, with thin nose pinched and bent brows scowling.If the squireens of Letterkenny had been frightened by the gorgon'sstony face when she strove to be gracious, how much more awful did sheappear now, when grilling on the coals of humiliation.
By-and-by, with a prodigious rattle, Madam Gillin swam in andcurtseyed. If there was to be a passage of arms, she was determinednot to be taken at a disadvantage. Fortune had denied her the grandair which goes with blue blood and coronets, but she was resolved tomake up for the want of it by a display of external magnificence.Though warm and moist with the exertion of plunging into grandeur atso short a notice, she looked mighty fine in her best red satin, madevery tight and short, with a Roman emperor in cameo grinning on thehigh waistband, and another nodding from her hair. The ruddy tint ofher mature charms vied with the ruby of the satin and the redness ofthe turban, and came by no means badly out of the conflict.
When arrayed in the garments of ceremony, Madam Gillin, despite thestoutness of her figure, could be extremely dignified. With a secondcurtsey and a sweep round of the left foot, she bade the visitorwelcome to her poor home, and pointed a mittened forefinger at achair.
'It's honoured that I am entirely, by your leedyship's condescension,'she said, wagging the turban affably. 'Might I offer some sherry-wine,or would your leedyship prefer clart? or a dhrop of prime poteen? Thejudges, bless you, prefer clart. Sure, Jug'll bring a cake in a jiffy,for drink's bad on an empty stomach.'
The countess responded by a freezing bow. How hard it was to begin!Yet, having come, she must needs speak out. This ungenerous foe wasexaggerating her own defects with intention, in order to make the taskmore difficult; was pretending to believe that her neighbour had'dropped in' by a friendly impulse, just to scrape a tardyacquaintance over a glass of wine. The next words of the enemy showedthat it was so.
'Your leedyship's sons are quite old cronies here,' she remarked.'They often honour my tipple, and find it good; faith, it's the sameas their dear papa used to like, poor fellow!' Here she noddedsolemnly at the portrait, lest my lady should not have noticed it.'And fine boys they are, though the eldest is a bit skittish. Yourleedyship has reason to be proud of them--specially the younger.'
It was as the countess expected. The woman was brutal and pitiless anddevoid of shame. Each word, each movement, was an outrage, a barbhurled with studied purpose. Nothing could come of an interview begunupon these lines; it would be better to cut it short, ere self-controlwas lost. My lady had not moved from her position on the centre of thefloor, not choosing to notice the invitation to be seated. Gatheringher wrapper close, with a haughty movement of white fingers, she saidabruptly, as she turned to go:
'Woman! I have lowered myself in order to conjure you to consider whatyou do. You have harmed me, Mrs. Gillin, as much as you could eversince I first set eyes on you, although I never did you hurt. Yourobbed me of my husband, and flaunted your prize all over Dublin, andI bore my cross without a word, because one may not touch pitchwithout being one's self defiled. You encouraged my second son in hisfolly; pushed him down the incline till you nearly brought him to thegallows; and now you are determined, if you can, to bring youngGlandore to ruin. You are a devil--not a woman! Hate me, if you will,for I would prefer your hatred to your friendship; but surely youcannot hate _him_, or you would not hang his portrait there. Even ifhe did you any wrong, of which I am ignorant, forbear to wreakvengeance on his children. I never understood your motives. What canyou gain by compassing all this mischief?'
'Whom did yon say I wished to bring to ruin?' sneered the scarletlady, unabashed.
The pale face of the countess flushed crimson, and she proceeded as ifthe words stuck in her throat:
'This hideous marriage must be prevented; you know why as well as Ido. Think of the wreck to which you would bring these innocent lives.Remember, at least, that the girl is your own child, poor thing. Feelpity for her, if you can summon none for the other.'
'I have as much pity for my child as you for yours!' Madam Gillinretorted, with meaning. 'When his neck was in danger, you neverstirred a finger-nail.'
My lady stopped at the door to make one more effort.
'You have deliberately brought those two together, though I havestrained every nerve to keep them apart. Dare you stand by and seethem married?'
'If the childer like each other, faix, it's not me a
s'll spoil thefun!' returned her tormentor.
My lady groaned and made as if she would speak again, but Mrs.Gillin's fat back was turned; she was improving the position of thecameos, by means of a mirror on the wall.
Lady Glandore adjusted her hood on her white hair, and moved swiftly,with bowed head, away from the Little House; while Madam Gillin,detaching her gorgeous turban, turned quickly round with a grin, sosoon as she was fairly gone, and watched her from behind a shutter.The good lady was troubled in her mind, and stood staring down thewalk, as the grin faded, long after the muffled figure had departed.At length she clapped the errant comb into its place upon her head,and murmured:
'I'm a devil, not a woman, am I? Sure that cap fits best on your ownpate. Rather than speak out, you'd let that lad be whipped off to FortGeorge, would you? Just as you would have let him be hanged--motherwithout a heart! It's Lucifer's pride ye have, every ha'porth of it.Well, my lips have been closed long enough.' Then, nodding to thepicture over the chimney-piece, she added aloud: 'Have I kept my wordwith ye? Ye wished it all set right, bad man, when Satan pinched ye.Who was it that was always bidding ye to see to it yourself, and yewouldn't? And her pride is as great as yours. Never fear; it shall beset right by me; for I like the boy for himself as well as for myoath. Before the sun's set I'll go to Ely Place and tell my Lord Claresomething that'll astonish him.'
'Tell him what, mamma?' asked Norah, who was dying to learn what hadtaken place.
'Never mind, child!' grunted madam, as she squeezed the impudent younglady's peachen cheek. 'What d'ye think that stiff old bag-o'-bonessaid just now? That I didn't love my girl; and that I'd do her wantonharm.'
'She lied!' retorted prompt Norah.
'Faith, ye're right!' agreed her mother, with a smacking kiss. 'Orderround the shay, and come and help me to take off my toggery.'
My lady sped rapidly away. The ordeal--short and sharp--more bittereven than she dreamed--was over; the draught was swallowed--in vain.Gillin's taunts had shrivelled her soul like branding-irons. Itbehoved her to arrange her features before returning to the Abbey,lest some one should detect the troubled aspect of the chatelaine andmake guesses at its cause, which might possibly come near the truth.As courage failed and resolution waned, her secret struggled theharder to come forth. With the self-consciousness of guilt she seemedto feel it emblazoned on her forehead, where all who ran might read.
Instead of returning by the grand drive which was but at the distanceof a stone's-throw, she followed the main road, skirted the wall thatbounded her rival's grounds, and re-entered Strogue from the back, bythe wooden postern which gave access to the rosary.
The thrusts of the full-blown champion in red satin were few; but theywent home, and smarted still. My lady's ears tingled yet as she walkedbetween the tall beech hedges. We are conscious often of doing wrong,but decline to look upon our fault, and coax ourselves to disbelievein its existence by persistently turning our attention to morepleasing objects. But when another individual, whose human voice wecan't shut out, brays forth the story of the sin with trumpetclearness, we seem to wake up as to a new appreciation of itsenormity, which comes like a fresh revelation of turpitude. Thus wasit with my lady in this instance. She was well aware that hertreatment of Terence, from the beginning, was below the level of justsolicitude; that latterly, though his position as a traitor awaitingpunishment had weighed her down, yet she had acquiesced, with aweakness which was itself a fault, in the prejudged sentence, and hadbeen prepared to hear that the scrag-boy's work was done withoutattempting personally to move in the matter. Conscience whispered onceor twice that by virtue of her rank she ought to force admittance tothe Castle. Nay! that she ought to have hurried long ago to London,and have wrested her boy's life from the King's clemency; have doggedhis Majesty to Weymouth; have stormed him in retirement; and have eventossed the sprats that he was frying into the flames if he took refugein his wonted obstinacy. In a hazy way she knew all this full well.She knew, indistinctly, that the scrag-boy had become to her warpedsoul a harbinger of peace; and afraid of seeing too much on the glasswhich conscience held, had shut her eyes and breathed on it till thePresent should become Past, and thereby irretrievable. But Gillin'swords could not be shut out after so simple a fashion. She had hinteda few moments since, with scathing irony, that even if she sacrificedher own child in cold blood on the altar of Nemesis, her conduct wouldbe no worse than my lady's had been to her second son. And my lady'sconscience echoed the speech with loud applause. She looked nowstraight into her own heart, and was appalled at what she saw there;she hearkened to the upbraidings of the monitor, and admitted that hisreproaches were deserved--that even the travail of an embittered lifewas not an atonement sufficient for its crime.
It is an awful moment when a nature built on pride begins tocrumble. The crash follows swiftly on the warning. Extremes tumbletogether; the loftier the edifice the more complete its collapse.The upbraidings of the monitor--harsh, unrelenting, awfullydistinct--dinned in my lady's ears as she paced with muffled headbetween the hedges of the rosary. Presently she heard a murmur. No!That was not conscience. Those were human voices--the voices of hersons--arguing in a high key. Great heavens! they were quarrelling.
With a stealthy step, holding her mantle in close folds lest itsrustle should betray the presence of an eavesdropper, she stole alongunder the lofty hedge.
Shane was in his hunting-suit. He was surrounded by his hounds. Theysniffed about and rolled on the damp grass, making their toilet in dogfashion, to clean their muddy backs. Eblana and Aileach sat on theirhams gazing at their master with wistful heads poised on one side.Shane stood facing his mother, who marked that the muscles of his facewere twitching, while his limbs shook with passion. Terence had hisback to her--a tall, quiet figure, distinct against a faded sky whichwas faint with the glare of a departed sun. His broad, squareshoulders stood out distinctly from a light background of misty hedge,of blotted, translucent pink, and pale yellow, and blue-green, acrosswhich streamed a troop of darkling phantoms--crows cawing off toroost.
Shane's hunting-whip sawed the air, as he passed it from one nervoushand to the other. He was always so ready with his whip. It seemed asmuch as he could do to withhold its sinuous thong from off hisbrother. Terence was speaking. My lady held her breath to listen.
'I speak to you as from the grave,' he said. 'My life is done. A weekor two at most, and my place will be vacant--my shadow will darken thethreshold of my ancestors no more. Take care, my brother! When youlook on my empty seat let the sad memory of me be precious on yourhearth, untarnished by regret. You are the head of the house. Do notforget the responsibilities to which you are born. Look at thetapestry in the drawing-room, and follow the example of your fathers.Do your duty by them; be without fear and without reproach. Do notearn for yourself among the family pictures an empty frame from whichposterity shall have wrenched the portrait.'
'Peace! I will not bear your prosing!' hissed the young earl. 'You areno better than a felon. You've wrecked yourself through your ownfolly, and now would inflict your broken-backed morality on me. I toldyou once you were no better than a "half-mounted." Ye're not so good.As for your insolent advice, _that_ for it! I'll tell you this much,to set your mind at rest. I've made it up with my Lord Cornwallis byexplaining that the mistake was due to you. I've pledged my own voteto Government, and all the influence that I can bring to bear. Two ofthe boroughs I hold will be disfranchised, in return for which I am tohave money down.'
'Oh, remember!' broke in Terence. 'That it's blood-money, whichcarries a curse with it. That it will come out of Irish coffers. By arefinement of barbarity it is Erin who will have to pay the ruffianswho will slay her!'
'Pooh!' retorted Shane, with a finger-snap. 'Whatever your worship'sviews may be, I will vote _for union_--there! Not that it can signifyto yon one way or t'other, so soon as you have been carted off toScotland.'
'Then after this,' returned Terence, with hot reproach, 'you shouldquarter an auctioneer's hammer with t
he arms of old Sir Amorey; since,like a superannuated chest of drawers, you are to be knocked down tothe lowest bidder!'
My lady could endure the spectacle no longer of her two sonsthreatening each other in the gloaming with swollen veins, face closeto face. With a ghostly sigh which startled the disputants she hurriedtowards the house. The brothers searched but found no one, andcast uneasy glances at each other. What was it? Could it be thebanshee--messenger of ill?
Terence, regretting his sharp speech, strode with abrupt strides away,lest he might be provoked to still more regretable discourse,across the little flower-plot, past the sun-dial, through the hall,to his own chamber, wherein he locked himself, among the guns andfishing-rods; while Shane, who was athirst, followed more slowly, likea shepherd with his flock, and turned into the dining-room in searchof drink.
Now Miss Wolfe, whose bedroom, it will be remembered, overlooked theflower-plot, and was opposite to the dining-room, was sitting at herwindow awaiting Terence's return with tidings of a successfulambassage. Of course Shane would be persuaded to see the error of hisways, and agree not to vote with Government. She was no littlesurprised to behold my lady, usually so majestic, hurry in a scaredmanner through the golden grille; then Terence; then Shane with allhis hounds about him. Something was afoot; what could have happened?All three seemed strangely troubled. No! It was but a coincidenceexaggerated by the distorted fancy of a convalescent into somethingserious. She was about to close the curtains when she was furtherastonished by seeing my lady rush into the dining-room with franticgestures and fall prostrate on the ground before her son. She saw LordGlandore turn round and try to raise his mother, but she only wrungher hands and wept, while her lips moved quickly. Two lighted candleswere on the table; the winter evening was shadowing in with a blueglamour; the small flower-plot was packed with hounds that sniffedabout with uneasy muzzles, for Shane had slammed-to the golden grilleafter him and forgotten them.
What were they talking about down there?--only some burning questioncould engross them thus. It was more than the curiosity of a daughterof Eve might resist. Snatching up a cloak Doreen stole downstairs, outinto the garden, hushing the dogs in a whisper that their noisygreetings might not betray her presence.
My lady's subdued words came dimly to her through the glass. Shecowered close to the window, nursing Eblana's head in her lap withfurtive pats, for that pampered beast was importunate in hisdemonstrative caresses, and whined a protest against neglect. What mylady said sent a sharp thrill through Miss Wolfe. Forgetting allcaution in astonishment, she rose and pressed her scared face againstthe pane, but mother and son were too fully occupied to heed any butthemselves, as my lady poured forth at last the pent-up gall which hadpoisoned a life of promise, and her helpless first-born sat in astupor, thunderstruck.
'Do not curse your old mother!' my lady implored, with a humilitywhich jarred upon his nerves. 'Have pity on her that she should haveto tell her shame. I would gladly have gone to the tomb as your fatherdid, carrying my secret--I would have hugged it close for your sake.But the hand of God is heavy on me--it will out! You must know thetruth--alas, alas!--even if you curse me! It was not my fault--indeedit was not--it was all your father's; and he went to his rest, whilstI remained to bear the penalty. He carried me off; you know that much.He was a member of the abduction-club. Placing me in a coach with ascarf about my mouth, he threatened me with a pistol if I should letdown the glass and scream. Then I was borne away to Ennishowen, to theislet of Glas-aitch-e. Oh, Shane! I endured the pang of living thereagain for your sake--do not judge me harshly! We dwelt there a year,then returned to Dublin to assume our position in society. We weremarried in the blue bedroom by the parson of Letterkenny; but, Shane,it was not my fault! Your father was fierce as you are--you are hisimage, but more unstable. I was as an infant under his iron will; howcould I resist him? The parson of Letterkenny married us--_the nightbefore we came back to Dublin_.'
My lady buried her face in her thin hands and sobbed, while Shanelooked on. He could not comprehend.
Finding that her son said no kind word to ease the bitter task, hismother went on in a hoarse voice--even and unbroken now by sobs--witheyes fixed doggedly upon the ground.
'I implored him--oh! how I implored him--again and again, I didindeed--to send for the parson before your birth. He was reckless. Atlength he seemed touched by my distress, and sent. The parson was laidup with gout, but promised to be with us on the morrow. Then--it wastoo late--and my lord put it off again, saying that it didn't matter,and that nobody would know. I hoped that he was right, and wascomforted. When, six years later, Terence was born, the case wasaltered. We both saw it--alas! too late; he felt it as much as I. Butafter all, you were the first-born--a ceremony delayed could not alterthat. It was not fair that you should suffer for what was but an actof negligence. We discussed the matter anxiously, and my lord decidedto bury the secret. No one would suspect, or think to examine the dateof the register, if we agreed to hold our peace. We never spoke ofit--never--but we saw it in each other's eyes; and from that moment Ilost his love--he was always looking with regret on Terence in a waywhich maddened me, while I clung to you. You were the child of sorrow.I suffered much for you on that accursed island; and then that--thatwoman cast her meshes over him. My lord changed his mind before hedied--desired me to noise the tale abroad to all the world. I couldnot--my pride revolted--and my love for you. None knew the secretexcept one--that harlot!--my lord was faithless in that as in allother things!'
My lady's voice died away, as a host of grim recollections crowded onher memory. Presently she looked up in alarm, for Shane had made nocomment. The cicatrice upon his brow stood out. She put forth herhands; he seized her by the wrists and flung her down. Withoutresistance she sank moaning backwards on the floor. Turning on hisseat, he poured out a tumblerful of wine and drank it off; then--thewhole truth breaking at last upon his slow intellect--he tore hishair, growling, and smote himself upon the head, and staggered roundthe room with reeling steps. Doreen did not try to hide herself, shewas transfixed with wonder; yet though she showed like a vision inhoar-frost, impressed upon the casement, he saw her not. He was onlyaware that there was another Lord Glandore--who would return hiscontumely with interest--that his own portion was beggary and abend-sinister. No wonder if the phantom of this new prospect churnedand curdled his besotted brain.
'He'll hate me and take my property and title!' he muttered throughhis teeth again and again, in querulous cadence. 'What's to become of_me_--what's to become of _me?_ I might as well be shot as beggared.'
My lady rose from the floor, haggard and gaunt, and passed her longfingers through her hair. The selfish cruelty of him for whose sakeshe had gone through the torture was better for her than kindnesswould have been. A little sympathy and she would have becomehysterical. Like a sharp fillip, it strung her nerves. That from whichshe had shrunk so long was here in all its accumulated fulness. Well!it was part of a penance; so much was past that the remainder couldmatter little.
'Not so,' she said mournfully; and Shane, clinging to a reed, returnedto his seat and drew her towards him.
'The secret may rest where it is,' she continued, placing a lovinghand upon his head. 'No one living knows of it save you and I and--andthat woman. If she meant to speak, she would have spoken long since.It may come out some day, and Terence will claim what the law willcall his own, and possibly revenge himself on you for having kept himunwittingly from its enjoyment. But you shall not be brought tobeggary. Alas! my deary, you are unfitted to battle with the world.Two things must be done--and done at once--betide afterwards what may.You must marry Doreen. She is an heiress, and the only one available.Your own mode of life has kept others from your path, though you mighthave chosen among hundreds. Her father would be glad, I know, and sheis too much broken by recent afflictions to offer resistance whenstrong pressure is brought to bear on her.'
'Government has offered me forty-five thousand pounds for my vote andinfluence in the coming contest,'
Lord Glandore observed presently,with a sinister smile. 'It is imminent. If Croppy can only be kept inthe dark till then!'
My lady bent down and kissed him, while lines of anxious thoughtgathered round her mouth. She was in the slough--up to the neck--outof which it was impossible to struggle. Under happier auspices shewould have recoiled from the suggestion of cold-blooded barter. Buthelpless Shane's position must be assured by hook or crook while therewas yet time. It struck his mother that Gillin--when she shoulddiscover that her outrageous designs for Norah were foiled--might blabthe secret as a last shaft of vengeance. She determined that for thepresent, at least, the odious creature must be humoured for prudence'sake. It was with a dreary sort of satisfaction that she found herturbulent favourite was become suddenly so malleable. What signifiedthe unsullied shields of departed Crosbies? Unblemished honour willnot renew exhausted tissues. It is well for those to prate who havenever been tempted. Shane, like the rest, must sell his mess ofpottage at the best market--_his_ so long as it was not claimed. Thenthe idea flashed upon my lady as she meditated, 'Terence is marked outfor an arch-traitor. He was not convicted--yet is he sentenced. If hisclaims were to be admitted now, his property (as that of oneattainted) would be forfeit to the state! Better far that Shane shouldkeep it.' Scruples were manifestly absurd. A brilliant suggestion ofthe devil this--which went far to reconcile my lady to existingcircumstances.
There was silence between mother and son. The thoughts of both werebest left unspoken. Both were absorbed in their own dreams. Eblana'scold muzzle awoke Doreen from her reverie. She glided up the stepsinto the hall, crept with caution past the door of the dining-room,made for the young men's wing, where, in his own nest, Terence wasbrooding in despondency over his blank future.
He had nothing wherewith to reproach himself. Nothing! Of that he wasquite certain. It had been his duty to lay the question of unionclearly before his brother, who, as head of the house, must adjudicatethereon upon his own judgment. The responsibility lay with him.Whichever way he chose to act, no dishonour could accrue to theyounger from his decision, so long as he, Terence, had firstregistered his private protest. Shane had been most insulting--hadstooped even to mock at his brother's deplorable condition. But thatwas of no moment. When we stand upon life's brink we can afford tocontemn the foolish lapping of the waves. It mattered not a rush whatShane might say or think. Yet that scene in the rosary was not one ofthe rainbow-hued visions which were to fresco into warmth the coldwalls of his prison-cell at Fort George. Knowing his brother's temper,it would have been more wise not to kick against the pricks. Perhaps,situated as Terence was, he would have done better not to speak atall--but it is difficult in the prime of life and manhood to accept atonce your position as a corpse.
The handle of his door was turned and shaken. It was an agitated handthat shook it--a woman's hand--for his hearing, sharpened byexcitement, detected the sough of silk, the unsteady grope of fingersfumbling above a handle's usual place. His heart beat fast. Was theyearning of his soul to be gratified? Was it his mother, who, so coldand forbidding hitherto, had selected the long wintry intervalprevious to the last meal of the day to come and whisper with kissesof how she loved and pitied him?
He turned the key. To his surprise Doreen, who entered swiftly,double-locked the door, and, tossing away her mantle, stood before himwith a smile upon her lips, which he had supposed was gone for ever.Her bosom heaved as she held out her two brown hands to him.
'Terence, it's _you_ who are Lord Glandore!' she panted. 'Shanerepulsed you when you spoke to him. I know it! He is ready to accepttheir blood-money; he is scheming basely for it at this moment; but heshall be exposed in time. It is your duty to turn the bastard out!'
Terence deemed that his star had left its course; for she stood, likea distracted dark Ophelia, on the verge of laughter and of tears;dashing the drops from her cheek with one hand, while the other creptshyly into her cousin's and remained there.
She told him quickly all she had heard and seen--all that was madeplain by the light of what she heard and saw. She told him, withdisdainful lip, of how her cousin had repulsed the whitehairedsuppliant; how he had whined, complaining; how his mother, fortifiedby that engrossing love--transfigured, ennobled by it despite hersin--had risen from her knees like a queen to comfort him.
Terence listened--one leg crossed over the other to support his elbow,while his chin rested on his hand--and instead of joining in herexultant joy, he only grew more gloomy. What was this will-o'-the-wispthat railed in such foolish fashion? At _him_ whose heart was dead,whose career was done, upon whom the gate of a lifelong prison wasabout to close, who was too weary to be very sorry for his ownundoing? Silly will-o'-the-wisp, who, clad in siren-guise, thoughtthus to lure him back to love of life! He listened to Doreen'snarrative in moody thought, plucking no consolation thence. It was apoignant subject of regret that her usually incisive common-senseshould be bewitched by this vulgar tempter. After all, a woman'sjudgment may never be relied on. It must be his office, then, torebuke her folly, and show where his true duty lay.
A great love, indeed--a sublime love! A love which is a crown ofglory, but which was in this instance a wreath doomed to be wasted onthe sterile rock. Shane cared for no one but himself. Was inclinedeven to spurn this love--nay, had dared brutally to repulse it,because it could not accomplish impossibilities. Not a drop from theprecious phial had ever leaked out for Terence--not a single drop. Andhe would have prized it so! Yet was his duty carved plainly out; andwith the gaze of one who belongs to another world, he saw it--throughfoliage and matted briars--with clear vision.
'It appears that I might perhaps save our name,' he said slowly, whilehe nursed his knee, 'from being mixed up with those of the recreants.What is the price? Reflect, dear Doreen! If we were not beyond theinfluence of mundane hopes and longings, would you advise me to actthus? Would you----'
'Can there be any doubt?' cried impetuous Doreen, with flashing eyes.'Did we not agree this very afternoon that Shane must be worked on notto disgrace his lineage. Now it is in your hands. Surely you couldnot----'
'Hush, hush, my dearest!' Terence responded gently. 'Remember that weare to lay up no store of evil memories! At Fort George I am to thinkof you as the star that has guided my thoughts upward. Reflect calmlynow! In order that Shane--poor misguided fellow!--may not drag us intothe ranks of the Iscariots, I should have to make good my rightsbefore the world. To accomplish that, I should have to brand withobloquy my mother's fair fame, which in the world's eyes is spotless.Should I thus keep untarnished the honour of the Crosbies? No! Thequestion of Ireland's fate is in God's keeping, not in ours. Hisdecrees seem hard to our purblind vision, yet must we bow to them.Forget what you discovered. Let this be as though it had never been.'
The girl's colour went and came; she looked earnestly at her cousin,as with prosaic action he nursed his knee.
'You are right,' she murmured at length. 'Do you know, my love, that Idared to despise you once? I said you could never be a hero!'
'Hero!' Terence echoed, with a laugh. 'I have looked into the otherworld too closely to care now for this. We have passed through thefire, Doreen, have we not? and bear its traces on our flesh. God grantthat it has purged away the worser part from both of us!'
My Lords of Strogue, Vol. 3 (of 3) Page 8