The Evil Eye; Or, The Black Spector Part 40

The mother's heart had been bursting-pent up as it were--and this allusion to her withdrew the floodgates of its sorrow; she spread out her arms, and fising up approached her husband, and throwing them about his neck, exclaimed, in tones of the most penetrating grief,--

"O, Torley, Torley, my husband, was she not our dearest and our best?"

The husband embraced her with a flood of tears.

"She was," said he, "she was." But immediately looking upon her sister Dora, he said, "Dora, come here--bring Dora to me," and his wife went over and brought her to him.

"O, Dora dear," said he, "I love you. But, darling, I never loved you as I loved her."

"But was I ever jealous of that, father?" replied Dora, with tears.

"Didn't we all love her? and did any one of you love her more than myself? Wasn't she the pride of the whole family? But I didn't care about her disgrace, father, if we had her back with us. She might repent; and if she did, every one would forgive their favorite--for sure she was every one's favorite; and above all, G.o.d would forgive her."

"I loved her as the core of my heart," said the grandmother; "but you spoiled her yourselves, and indulged her too much in dress and everything she wished for. Had you given her less of her own way, and kept her more from dances and merry-makings, it might be better for yourselves and her today; still, I grant you, it was hard to do it--for who, mavrone, could refuse her anything? O! G.o.d sees my heart how I pity you, her father, and you, too, her mother, above all. But, Torley, dear, if we only had her--if we only had her back again safe with us--then what darling Dora says might be true, and her repentance would wash away her shame--for every one loved her, so that they wouldn't judge her harshly."

"I can bear witness to that," said Barney; as it is, every one pities her, and but very few blame her. It is all set down to her innocence and want of experience, ay, and her youthful years. No; if you could only find her, the shame in regard of what I've said would not be laid heavily upon her by the people."

"O," exclaimed her father, starting up, "O, Granua, Granua, my heart's life! where are you from us? Was not your voice the music of our hearth?

Did not your light laugh keep it cheerful and happy? But where are you now? O, will no one bring me back my daughter? Where is my child? she that was the light--the breakin' of the summer mornin' amongst us! But wait; they say the villain is recoverin' that destroyed her--well--he may recover from the blow of Shawn-na-Middogue, but he will get a blow from me that he won't recover from. I will imitate Morrissy--and will welcome his fate."

"Aisy, Torley," said Casey; "hould in a little. You are spakin' now of Masther Charles?"

"I am, the villain! warn't they found together?"

"I have one question to ask you," proceeded Barney, "and it is this--when did you see or spake with Shawn-na-Middogue?"

"Not since that unfortunate night."

"Well, all I can tell you is this--that Masther Charles had as much to do with the ruin of your daughter as the king of Jerusalem. Take my word for that. He is not the stuff that such a villain is made of, but I suspect who is."

"And who do you suspect, Barney?"

"I say I only suspect; but, so long as it is only suspicion, I will mention no names. It wouldn't be right; and for that reason I will wait until I have betther information. But, after all," he proceeded, "maybe nothing wrong has happened."

The mother shook her head: "I know to the contrairy," she replied, "and intended on that very night to bring her to an account about her appearance, but I never had the opportunity."

The father here wrung his hands, and his groans were dreadful.

"Could you see Shawn-na-Middogue?" asked Barney.

"No," replied Davoren; "he, too, has disappeared; and although he is hunted like a bag-fox, n.o.body can find either hilt or hair of him."

"Might it not be possible that she is with him?" he asked again.

"No, Barney," replied her mother, "we know Shawn too well for that. He knows how we loved her, and what we would suffer by her absence. Shawn, though driven to be an outlaw, has a kind heart, and would never allow us to suffer what we are sufferin' on her account. O, no! we know Shawn too well for that."

"Well," replied Barney, meditatively, "there's one thing I'm inclined to think: that whoever was the means of bringing shame and disgrace upon poor Granua will get a touch of his middogue that won't fail as the first did. Shawn now knows his man, and, with the help of G.o.d, I hope he won't miss his next blow. I must now go; and before I do, let me tell you that, as I said before, Masther Charles is as innocent of the shame brought upon poor Granua as the king of Jerusalem."

There is a feeling of deep but silent sorrow which weighs down the spirit after the death of some beloved individual who is taken away from among the family circle. It broods upon, and casts a shadow of the most profound gloom over the bereaved heart; but let a person who knew the deceased, and is capable of feeling a sincere and friendly sympathy for the survivors, enter into this circle of sorrow; let him or her dwell upon the memory of the departed; then that silent and pent-up grief bursts out, and the clamor of lamentation is loud and vehement. It was so upon this occasion. When Barney rose to take his departure, a low murmur of grief a.s.sailed his ears; it gradually became more loud; it increased; it burst into irrepressible violence--they wept aloud; they flew to her clothes, which hung, as we said, motionless upon the stalk of burdock against the wall; they kissed them over and over again; and it was not until Barney, now deeply affected, succeeded in moderating their sorrow, that these strong and impa.s.sioned paroxysms were checked and subdued into something like reasonable grief. Having consoled and pacified them as far as it was in his power, he then took his departure under a feeling of deep regret that no account of the unfortunate girl had been obtained.

The next day Mrs. Lindsay and Harry prepared to pay the important visit.

As before, the old family carriage was furbished up, and the lady once more enveloped in her brocades and satins. Harry, too, made it a point to appear in his best and most becoming habiliments; and, truth to tell, an exceedingly handsome and well-made young fellow he was. The dress of the day displayed his manly and well-proportioned limbs to the best advantage, whilst his silver-hilted sword, in addition to the general richness of his costume, gave him the manner and appearance of an accomplished cavalier. Barney's livery was also put a second time into requisition, and the coachman's c.o.c.ked hat was freshly crimped for the occasion.

"Is it true, mother?" inquired Harry, as they went along, "that this old noodle has built his residence as much after the shape of a c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l as was possible to be accomplished?"

"Perfectly true, as you will see," she replied.

"But what could put such a ridiculous absurdity into his head?"

"Because he thought of the name before the house was built, and he got it built simply to suit the name. 'There is no use,' said he, 'in calling it c.o.c.kle Hall unless it resembles a c.o.c.kle;' and, indeed, when you see it, you will admit the resemblance."

"Egad," said her son, "I never dreamed that fate was likely to cramp me in a c.o.c.klesh.e.l.l. I dare say there is a touch of sublimity about it. The a.s.sociations are in favor of it."

"No," replied his mother, "but it has plenty of comfort and convenience about, it. The plan was his own, and he contrived to make it, notwithstanding its ludicrous shape, one of the most agreeable residences in the country. He is a blunt humorist, who drinks a good deal, and instead of feeling offence at his manner, which is rather rough, you will please him best by answering him exactly in his own spirit."

"I am glad you gave me this hint," said her son; "I like that sort of thing, and it will go hard if I don't give him as good as he brings."

"In that case," replied the mother, "the chances will be ten to one in your favor. Seem, above all things, to like his manner, because the old fool is vain of it, and nothing gratifies him so much."

"But about the niece? What is the cue there, mother?"

"The cue of a gentleman, Harry--of a well-bred and respectful gentleman.

You may humor the old fellow to the top of his bent; but when you become the gentleman with her, she will not misinterpret your manner with her uncle, but will look upon the transition as a mark of deference to herself. And now you have your instructions: be careful and act upon them. Miss Riddle is a girl of sense, and, they say, of feeling; and it is on this account, I believe, that she is so critical in scrutinizing the conduct and intellect of her lovers. So there is my last hint."

"Many thanks, my dear mother; it will, I think, be my own fault if I fail with either uncle or niece, supported as I shall be by your eloquent advocacy."

On arriving at c.o.c.kle Hall, Harry, on looking out of the carriage window, took it for granted that his mother had been absolutely bantering him. "c.o.c.kle Hall!" he exclaimed: "why, curse the hall I see here, good, bad, or indifferent. What did you mean, mother? Were you only jesting?"

"Keep quiet," she replied, "and above all things don't seem surprised at the appearance of the place. Look precisely as if you had been in it ever since it was built."

The appearance of c.o.c.kle Hall was, indeed, as his mother had very properly informed him, ludicrous in the extreme. It was built on a surface hollowed out of a high bank, or elevation, with which the roof of it was on a level. It was, of course, circular and flat, and the roof drooped, or slanted off towards the rear, precisely in imitation of a c.o.c.kle-sh.e.l.l. There was, however, a complete _deceptio visus_ in it. To the eye, in consequence of the peculiarity of its position, it appeared to be very low, which, in point of fact, was not exactly the case, for it consisted of two stories, and had comfortable and extensive apartments". There was a paved s.p.a.ce wide enough for two carriages to pa.s.s each other, which separated it from the embankment that surrounded it. Altogether, when taken in connection with the original idea of its construction, it was a difficult thing to look at it without mirth. On entering the drawing-room, which Harry did alone--for his mother, having seen Miss Riddle in the parlor, entered it in order to have a preliminary chat with her--her son found a person inside dressed in a pair of red plush breeches, white stockings a good deal soiled, a yellow long-flapped waistcoat, and a wig, with a cue to it which extended down the whole length of his back,--evidently a servant in dirty lively.

There was something _degagee_ and rather impudent in his manner and appearance, which Harry considered as in good keeping with all he had heard of this eccentric n.o.bleman. Like master like man, thought he.

"Well," said the servant, looking hardly at him, "what do you want?"

"You be cursed," replied Harry; "don't be impertinent; do you think I'm about to disclose my business to you, you despicable menial? Why don't you get your stockings washed? But if you wish to know what I want, I want your master."

The butler, footman, or whatever he might hive been, fixed a keen look upon him, accompanied by a grin of derision that made the visitor's gorge rise a good deal.

"My master," said the other, "is not under this roof. What do you think of that?"

"You mean the old c.o.c.kle is not in his sh.e.l.l, then," replied Harry.

"Come," said the other, with a chuckle of enjoyment, "curse me, but that's good. Who are you?--what are you? You are in good feathers--only give an account of yourself."

Harry was a keen observer, but was considerably aided by what he had heard from his mother. The rich rings, however, which he saw sparkling on the fingers of what he had conceived to be the butler or footman, at once satisfied him that he was then addressing the worthy n.o.bleman himself. In the meantime, having made this discovery, he resolved to act the farce out.

"Why should I give an account of myself to you, you cursed old sot?--you drink, sirrah: I can read it in your face."