Complete Works of Bram Stoker (34 page)

“Man alive!” said Dick, “why not be afraid if you see cause for fear? I don’t suppose I’m a coward any more than you are, but I can see a danger, and a very distinct one, from what you are doing. Your house is directly in the track in which the bog has shifted at any time this hundred years; and if there should be another movement, Iwould not like to be in the house when the time comes.”

“All right,” he returned, doggedly, “I’ll take me chance; and I I’ll find the threasure, too, before many days is over!”

“Well, but be reasonable also, or you may find your death.” “Well, if I do that’s me own luk out. Ye may find yer death first.”

“Of course I may, but I see it my duty to warn you. The weather these last few weeks back has been unusually wet.

The bog is rising as it is. As a matter of fact, it is nearly a foot higher now than it was when I came here first; and yet you are doing what must help to rise it higher still, and are weakening its walls at the same time.” He scowled at me as he sullenly answered: “Well, all I say is I’ll do as I like wid me own. I wouldn’t give up me chance ivfindin’ the threasure now  —  no, not for God himself!”

“Hush, man; hush!” said Dick sternly, as we turned away. “Do not tempt him, but be warned in time!”

“Let him look out for himself, an’ I’ll look out for meself,” he answered with a sneer. “I’ll find the threasure, an’, if need be, in spite ivGod an’ ivthe Divil too!”

CHAPTER XIII

 
I think it was a real pleasure to Dick to get Norah’s message that he was expected to tea that evening. Like the rest of his sex, he was not quite free from vanity; for when I told him, his first act was to look down at himself ruefully, and his first words were: “But I say, old lad, look at the mess I’m in! and these clothes are not much, anyhow.”

“Never mind, Dick, you are as good as I am.”

“Oh, well,” he laughed, “if you’ll do, I suppose I needn’t mind. We’re both pretty untidy. No, begad!” he added, looking me all over, “you’re not out of the perpendicular with regard to cleanliness, anyhow. I say, Art, who’s been tidying you up? Oh, I see!  —  forgive me, old lad  —  and quite natural, too! Miss Joyce should see you blush, Art! Why, you are as rosy as a girl!”

“Call her ‘Norah,’ Dick; it is more natural, and I am sure she will like it better. She is to look on you as a brother, you know.”

“All right, Art,” he answered, heartily, “but you must manage it for me, for I think I should be alarmed to do so unless I got a lead; but it will come easy enough after the first go off. Remember, we both always thought of her as ‘Norah.’”

We went down towards the brook and met with Andy, who had the car all ready for us.

“Begoryer’an’rs,” said he, “I thought yez was lost intirely, or that the fairies had carried yez off, both iv yez this time”  —  this with a sly look at me, followed by a portentous wink to Dick; “an’ I’m thinkin’ it’s a bout time fur so me thin’ to ate. Begor, but me stummick is cryin’ out that me throat is cut!”

“You’re quite right, Andy, as to the fact,” said Dick, “but you are a little antecedent.” “An’ now what’s that, surr? Begor, I niverwas called that name afore. Shure, an’ I always thry to be dacent; diwle a man but can tell ye that. Antidacent, indeed! Well, now, what nixt?”

“It means, Andy, that we are going to be carried off by the fairies, and to have some supper with them too; and that you are to take this half-crown, and go over to Mother Kelligan’s, and get her to try to dissipate that unnatural suspicion of capital offence wreaked on your thoracic region. Here, catch! and see how soon you can be off.”

“Hurroo! Begor, yer ‘an’r, it’s the larned gintleman y’ are! Musha! but ye ought to be a counsillor intirely. Gee-up, ye ould corn-crake!” and Andy was off at full speed. When we had got rid of him, Dick and I went down to the brook and made ourselves look as tidy as we could. At least Dick did; for, as to myself, I purposely disarranged my hair  —  unknown to Dick  —  in the hope that Norah would take me in hand again, and that I might once more experience the delicious sensation of a toilet aided by her sweet fingers.

Young men’s ideas, however, are very crude; no one who knew either the sex or the world would have fallen into such an absurd hope. When I came in with Dick, Norah  —  in spite of some marked hints, privately and secretly given to her  —  did not make either the slightest remark on my appearance or the faintest suggestion as to improving it.

She had not been idle in the afternoon. The room, which was always tidy, was as prettilyarranged as the materials would allow. There were some flowers and flag-leaves and grasses tastefully placed about, and on the table in a tumbler was a bunch of scarlet poppies. The table-cloth, although of coarse material, was as white as snow, and the plates and cups, of common white and blue, were all that was required. When Joyce came in from his bedroom, where he had been tidying himself, he looked so manly and handsome in his dark frieze coat with horn buttons, his wide, unstarched shirt-collar, striped waistcoat, and cord breeches, with gray stockings, that I felt quite proud of him. There was a natural grace and dignity about him which suited him so well, that I had no wish to see him other than a peasant. He became the station, and there was no pretence. He made a rough kind of apology to us both: “I fear ye’ll find things a bit rough, compared with what you’re accustomed to, but I know ye’ll not mind. We have hardly got settled down here yit; and me sisther, who always lives with us, is away with me other sisther that is sick, so Norah has to fare by herself; but, gentlemen both  —  you, Mr. Sutherland, and you, Arthur  —  you’re welcome.” We sat down to table, and Norah insisted on doing all the attendance herself. I wanted to help her, and, when she was taking up a plate of cakes from the hearth, stooped beside her and said: “May not I help, Norah? Do let me!” “No  —  no, dear,” she whispered. “Don’t ask me now  —  I’m a little strange yet  —  anothertime. You’ll be very good, won’t you, and help me not to feel awkward?” Needless to say, I sat at table for the rest of the meal and feasted my eyes on my darling, while, in common with the others, I enjoyed the good things placed before us. But when she saw that I looked too long and too lovingly, she gave me such an imploring glance from her eloquent eyes, that for the remai nder of the ti me I restrai ned both the ardor of my glance and its quantity within modest bounds. Oh, but she was fair and sweet to look upon! Her dark hair was plainly combed back and coiled modestly round her lovely head. She had on her red petticoat and chintz body, that she knew I admired so much; and on her breast she wore a great scarlet poppy, whose splendid colour suited well with her dark and noble beauty. At the earliest opportunity, when tea was over, I whispered to her: “My darling, how well the poppy suits you. How beautiful you are. You are like the Goddess of Sleep!” She put her finger to her lips with a happy smile, as though to forbid me to pay compliments  —  before others. I suppose the woman has never yet been born  —  and never shall be  —  who would not like to hear her praises from the man she loves.

I had eaten potato-cakes before, but never such as Norah had made for us; possibly they seemed so good to me because I knew that her hands had made them. The honey, too, was the nicest I had tasted  —  for it was made by Norah’s bees. The butter was perfect  —  for it was the work of her hands!

I do not think that a happier party ever assembled round a tea-table. Joyce was now quite reconciled to the loss of his daughter, and was beaming all over; and Dick’s loyal nature had its own reward, for he too was happy in the happiness of those he loved  —  or else I was, and am, the most obtuse fool, and he the most consummate actor, that has been. As for Norah and myself, I know we were happy  —  as happy as it is given to mortals to be. When tea was over, and Norah fetched her father’s pipe and lighted it for him, she said to me with a sweet blush, as she called me by my name for the first time before a stranger:

“I suppose, Arthur, you and Mr. Sutherland would like your own cigars best; but if you care fora pipe there are some new ones here,” and she pointed them out. We lit our cigars, and sat round the fire; for in this damp weather the nights were getting a little chilly. Joyce sat on one side of the fire and Dick on the other. I sat next to Dick, and Norah took her place between her father and me, sitting on a little stool beside herfatherand leaning her head against his knees, while she took the hand that was fondly laid over her shoulder and held it in her own. Presently, as the gray autumn twilight died away, and as the light from the turf-fire rose and fell, throwing protecting shadows, her other hand stole towards my own, which was waiting to receive it; and we sat silent for a spell, Norah and I in an ecstasy of quiet happiness.

By-and-by we heard a click at the latch of the gate, and firm, heavy footsteps coming up the path. Norahjumped up and peeped out of the window. “Who is it, daughter?” said Joyce.

“Oh father, it is Murdock! What can he want?”

There was a knock at the door. Joyce rose up, motioning to us to sit still, laid aside his pipe, and went to the door and opened it. Every word that was spoken was perfectly plain to us all.

“Good-evenin’, Phelim Joyce.”

“Good-evenin’. You want me?” “I do.” Murdock’s voice was fixed and firm, as of one who has I made up his mind.

“What is it?”

“May I come in? I want to shpake to ye particular.”

“No, Murtagh Murdock. Whin a man comes undher me roof by me own consint, I’m not free wid him to spake me mind the same as whin he’s outside. Ye haven’t thrated me well, Murdock, Ye’ve been hard wid me; and there’s much that I can’t forgive!” “Well! if I did, ye gev me what no other man has ever gave me yit widout repintin’ it sore. Ye sthruck me a blow before all the people, an’ I didn’t strike ye back.”

“I did, Murtagh; an’ I’m sorry for it. That blow has been hangin’ on me conscience iver since. I would take it back if I could; God knows that is thrue. Much as ye wronged me, I don’t want such a thing as that to remimber when me eyes is closin’. Murtagh Murdock, I take it back, an’ gladly. Will ye let me?”

“I will  —  on wan condition.” “What is it?”

“That’s what I’ve kem here to shpake about; but I’d like to go in.”

“No, ye can’t do that  —  not yit, at any rate, till I know what ye want. Ye must remimber, Murtagh, that I’ve but small rayson to thrust ye.”

“Well, Phelim, I’ll tell ye, tho’ it’s mortial hard to name it shtandin’ widout the door like a thramp. I’m a warrum man; I’ve a power iv money put by, an’ it brings me in much.”

“I know! I know!” said the other bitterly. “God help me! but I know too well how it was gother up.”

“Well, niver mind that now; we all know that. Anyhow, it is gother up. An’ them as finds most fault wid the manes, mayhap’d be the first to get hould iv it av they could. Well, anyhow, I’m warrum enough to ask any girrul in these parts to share it wid me. There’s many min and weemin between this and Galway, that’d like to talk over the fortin iv their daughter wid Murtagh Murdock, for all he’s a gombeen man.”

As he spoke the clasp of Norah’s hand and mine grew closer. I could feel in her clasp both a clinging, as for protection, and a restraining power on myself. Murdock went on:

“But there’s none of thim girls what I’ve set me harrt on  —  except wan!” He paused. Joyce said, quietly:

“An’ who, now, might that be?” “Yer own daughther, Norah Joyce!” Norah’s hand restrained me as I was instinctively rising. “Go on!” said Joyce, and I could notice that there was a suppressed passion in his voice. “Well, I’ve set me harrt on her; and I’m willin’ to settle a fortin on her, on wan condition.” “And what, now, might that be?”  —  the tone was of veiled sarcasm.

“She’ll have all the money that I settle on her to dale wid as she likes  —  that is, the intherest iv it  —  as long as she lives; an’ I’m to have the Cliff Fields that is bier’s, as me own to do what I like wid, an’ that them an’ all in them belongs to me.” Joyce paused a moment before answering: “Is that all ye have to say?” Murdock seemed nonplussed, but after a slight pause he answered: “Yis.”

“An’ ye want me answer?” “Ivcoorse!”

“Thin, Murtagh Murdock, I’d like to ask ye for why me daughter would marry you orthe like of you? Is it because that yer beauty’d take a young girl’s fancy  —  you, that’s known as the likest thing to a divil in these parts? Or is it because of yer ki nd nature? You that tried to rui n her own father, and that drove both her and him out of the home she was born in, and where her poor mother died! Is it because yer characther is respicted in the counthry wheriver yer name is known?  —  ” Here Murdock interrupted him:

“I tould ye it’s a warrum man I am”  —  he spoke decisively, as if his words were final  —  ”an’ I can, an’ will, settle a fortin on her.” Joyce answered slowly, and with infinite scorn:

“Thank ye, Mr. Murtagh Murdock, but me daughter is not for sale!”

There was a long pause. Then Murdock spoke again, and both suppressed hate and anger were in his voice: “Ye had betther have a care wid me. I’ve crushed ye wance, an’ I’ll crush ye agin! Ye can shpake scornful yerself, but mayhap the girrul would give a different answer.” “Then, ye had betther hear her answer from herself.

Norah! Come here, daughter; come here!” Norah rose, making an imperative sign to me to keep my seat, and with the bearing of an empress passed across to the door and beside her father. She took no notice whatever of her wooer. “What is it, father?” “Now, Murdock, spake away! Say what ye have to say; an’ take yer answer from her own lips.” Murdock spoke with manifest embarrassment: “I’ve been tellin’ yer father that I’d like ye for me wife.” “I’ve heard all you said.” “An’ yer answer?” “My father has answered for me.” “But I want me answerfrom yer own lips. My, but it’s the handsome girrul ye are this night!” “My answer is ‘No!’” and she turned to come back. “Shtay!” Murdock’s voice was nasty, so nasty that instinctively I stood up. No person should speak like that to the woman I loved. Norah stopped. “I suppose ye won’t luk at me because ye have a young shpark on yer hands. I’m no fool, an’ I know why ye’ve been down in the fields! I seen yez both more nor wance; an’ I’m makin’ me offer knowin’ what I know. I don’t want to be too hard on ye, an’ I’ll say nothin’ if ye don’t dhrive me to. But remimber ye’re in me power; an’ ye’ve got to plase me in wan wayoranother. I knew what I was doin’ whin I watched ye wid yer young shpark! Ye didn’t want yer father to see him nigh the house! Ye’d betther be careful, the both of ye. If ye don’t intind to marry me, well, ye won’t; but mind how ye thrate me or shpake to me, here or where there’s others by; or be th’ Almighty, I’ll send the ugly whisper round the counthry about ye  —  ” flesh and blood could not stand this. In an instant I was out in the porch and ready to fly at his throat; but Norah put her arm between us.