"BARRY'S CHALLENGE."
"The place is haunted."—_Hood._
THE Master's trot proved to be a mere flash in the pan, and after
a mile the aged animal subsided into his normal pace,—namely, a
desultory and erratic stroll. His driver, wearied by this monotonous
crawl, alighted, and accompanied the cart on foot, walking at the
mule's head, with her sun-bonnet tilted over her face, and her
thoughts miles away—say as far as Ballyredmond. Proceeding in this
somewhat absent fashion, it came to pass, that in turning a corner she
nearly fell into the arms of Barry Sheridan, who, taking her for what
she represented at the first glance, exclaimed, "Hullo, my Beauty,
'tis yourself;" but, "The deuce!" "The devil!" were his concluding
ejaculations, as he recognized the Crowmore mule, and something
familiar in the cut of the market-girl's pink sun-bonnet—not to
mention the face that was under it. Finding herself fairly caught, and
that escape was out of the question, Helen resolved to make a virtue of
necessity, and to brazen it out to the best of her ability.
"What the mischief does this mean?" he blustered, authoritatively.
"It means that Sally has hurt her foot," she returned, with complete
composure, and speaking in her natural voice, "and I have been her most
successful substitute."
"Bother your long words! Do you mean to tell me you have been selling
vegetables and butter in Terryscreen?"
"I do," she answered gaily.
"Then, not alone old Malachi, but every mother's son in Crowmore is
mad. I'm blest if I ever saw anything to beat _this_," surveying
Helen, and her costume, and her flatteringly empty cart, with wrathful
amazement.
"You need not be alarmed, no one recognized me, excepting Larry
Flood—the cat is _still_ in the bag, unless you let it out."
"What put it into your head to go play-acting about the country, along
with the market-cart? What did you do it for?"
"Merely to make money; an article that is rather scarce at the Castle.
You hardly suppose that I did it for a joke, do you, or for pleasure?"
"Well, all I can say is, that if I had anything to say to you——"
"Which you have not," she interrupted quickly.
"There you go, as usual—snapping the nose off my face. I was only
saying if I _had_. However, I'm glad enough to meet you in any
shape—alone."
Helen glanced at him nervously, and waited to hear the sequel to this
rather significant remark.
"You see, up at the Castle, you have Dido pinned to your elbow all day,
and I never get a word with you."
"It seems to me that you get a good many, all the same."
"Well, not _the_ word. Look here, Helen. Of course I know that you are
only a teacher in a school, and have not a shilling to bless yourself
with, and never will have—worse luck; but you are a thundering pretty
girl, and I am very spoony on you, so here goes. Will you marry me?"
"I?" she ejaculated with a gasp of incredulity.
"Yes; you to be sure! Who else?" approaching his arm affectionately
to her waist. But a very sharp rap on the knuckles from the stick she
carried in her hand caused him to change his mind.
"Come now, you don't mean _that_, I know?"
"Yes, indeed I do! please keep to your own side of the road."
"And is it to be yes? Am I not speaking to the future Mrs. Sheridan?"
he inquired with an air of jaunty confidence.
"No, indeed you are not!"
"Oh, I say! you are not in earnest!" in a bantering tone. "Think it
over. I'm not a bad sort of fellow. I've a snug little place. I'm old
Malachi's heir. I'm quite a catch, I can tell you—you might do worse."
"Impossible!" she exclaimed scornfully.
"Do you mean to tell me you are serious; do you mean me to take no in
earnest? For, mind you, I'll not ask you _again_," speaking with angry
vehemence.
"I really mean no! You may consider that the honour is declined."
"And pray, why did you encourage me, and pretend you were fond of me,
eh?"
"You must be out of your senses to say so."
"Not a bit of it! You did encourage me, flirting and arguing, and
making sharp speeches just to attract my notice and draw me on; why any
one could see it with half an eye!"
At this amazing statement the little remnant of the lady's temper
completely gave way, and halting in the road, and turning to him with
blazing eyes, she said,—
"Mr. Barry Sheridan, a few plain truths shall be spoken to you for once
in your life. I would not marry you if you were a king. You are rude;
you are ignorant."
"No, I'm not," he interrupted furiously.
"Yes, you are," she continued inflexibly. "Only last night I heard
you pointing out the constellation of _O'Brien's_ belt! and you
cannot spell two words; you are ignorant and boorish. This may be
your misfortune, not your fault; but it _is_ your fault that you are
selfish and overbearing, and as vain as the frog in the fable. You
imagine, you poor blind ostrich," mixing her metaphors in the heat of
her irritation, "that any one of the girls in the county would marry
you! If you asked them, they would laugh in your face.—If you do not
believe me, you can make the experiment, that's all.—You will have
to improve very much indeed, before you may aspire to the hand of any
_lady_, however penniless." So saying, she lightly hitched herself up
on the cart, gave the mule a bang with her stick, and rattled noisily
away.
* * * * *
Helen's return was hailed with acclamation; her cousins, who had long
been on the look out, met her at the gate, and escorted her to the
kitchen, where she poured out her earnings and rendered a faithful
account of her dealings to Sally—Sally, who cross-examined her
sharply, and was transparently jealous of her success. Indeed, the only
poor consolation left Miss MacGravy was, that her deputy had failed
with the "sparrow-grass."
"One and sixpence, miss, I tould ye, and ye took the shilling! however,
ye were clever with the cauliflowers, and on the whole, ye done well!"
"I should rather think she _had_ done well!" said Dido, sweeping up the
silver. "What are you going to say to them next week, Sally, when they
all come asking for the smart new girl?"
"Oh, faix, it's not many will do that, they are mostly too earnest
after bargains—but if they do, I'll just tell a good one when I go
about it, and face them all down, that there was ne'er a one in it, but
myself!"
"You won't find it easy to make them believe that," said Dido
emphatically; "that would be a _good_ one with a vengeance!" taking her
cousin by the arm and leading her affectionately to the upper regions,
where a delicate little repast awaited her.
Helen having given her relatives a modified account of her adventures
(in which she dwelt on Larry's ferocious guardianship, but skipped all
mention of the two most thrilling incidents of the day, _i.e._, Gilbert
Lisle's unexpected appearance, and Barry's unwelcome proposal), was
considered to have richly earned the right to enjoy an afternoon of
pure and unalloyed idleness. The white blinds in the drawing-room were
pulled down to keep out the sun, the sashes were up to admit a little
breeze, and she lay back in a comfortable chair, watching Dido's busy
fingers at work.
Presently her cousin looked up, and said, "I don't know whether it's
the colour of the blinds, or what, Helen, but you look completely done
up. I'm afraid that adventure this morning was too much for you!"
"Oh, no, not the least—my arms are a little stiff from driving the
mule, that's all, _tough_ is no name for him!"
"Only fancy your making nearly five pounds!" laying down her work as
she spoke.
"I made more than that—something which I have not shown you," putting
her hand in her pocket, and holding it out, with a sovereign in her
palm.
"Gold!"
"Yes. Who do you think rode up and tossed it down among the
cabbage-leaves, and asked for a flower?"
"Not—_not_ Mr. Lisle?"
"Yes, but it was Mr. Lisle."
"And you—did you faint?"
"Not I. I stooped and pretended to be tying my shoe the moment after
I recognized him. Of course he may have been staring at me for five
minutes, for all I know. No doubt he thought the market-girl had a look
of his former sweetheart, and he threw her a sovereign, as a kind of
little salve to his conscience," contemptuously balancing the said coin
on her middle finger.
For quite two minutes Dido did not answer. There was not a sound in the
room, excepting the lazy flapping of the window blind. At length she
said rather reproachfully,—
"Helen, I think if I had once cared for a person, as you certainly did
for Mr. Lisle, I could not speak of him so bitterly."
"I am sure you could not! But you are naturally far more amiable than
I am, and your illusions have never been shattered. The last two
years have hardened me. I seem to stand alone in the world. I have
no protector but Helen Denis. I use my natural weapon, my tongue,
rather mercilessly sharp, cutting speeches seem to slip out of my
mouth unawares, and they hurt no one half as much as they do me,
afterwards,—when I am sorry!"
"I never heard you say anything sharp, until that speech about Mr.
Lisle. Now that he is in the country, how will you meet him?"
"Certainly not 'in silence and tears,' like the individual in the
song; most probably with a smiling allusion to our former delightful
acquaintance."
"Now, Helen, you know you won't."
"No! Well then we shall probably shake hands, and say—'How do you do?
What lovely weather we are having.' That will be all."
At this moment the door was thrown open with a violence that shook its
ancient hinges, and Katie, who had been absent ever since dinner-time,
burst into the room. She was breathless with excitement, her cheeks
were crimson, and there was certainly a spark of triumph in her eye.
"Girls!" she gasped, "what do you think has happened? No, I'm not going
to let you guess, because I can't keep it another second—Barry has
asked me to marry him!"
An awful pause ensued, and then Dido said, in a sharp voice, "And of
course you said no!"
"And of course I said yes! Only imagine my having a proposal before
_you_, Helen!" darting an exultant look at her pretty, pale cousin,
who now suddenly unclasped her hands from behind her head, and sat up
erect, and looked at her with eyes wide with horrified surprise.
Vanity is one of those curious elements in human nature which defy
every rule, and impel the victim into the most unexpected courses.
Barry had been put upon his mettle, and he was resolved to show Miss
Denis her mistake at any cost. Accordingly he offered himself to the
very first young lady he met, who happened to be her cousin, Katie,
and here, within four hours of Helen's scornful rejection of his hand,
he was engaged to a girl under the same roof as herself! The long
exciting day, the unexpected encounter with Gilbert, Barry's proposal,
and Barry's revenge, were too much for her over-wrought nerves; to the
horror of Dido, and the amazement of Katie, their cousin received the
news—and she, who had always been so _down_ on Barry—in a storm of
hysterical tears!
* * * * *
The next day brought the successful suitor to Crowmore to receive the
congratulations of his friends; his attitude was one of sulky triumph
as he nodded his acknowledgements of Dido's tepid felicitations, and
Biddy's brief greeting—Biddy, who had more than once imparted to the
bride elect that "she would not grudge Mr. Barry a good bating, to
take the concate out of him!" For once he obtained an interview with
his uncle, and then he sought Helen,—but at first she was nowhere to
be seen! All the afternoon she had been digging dandelion roots out of
the gravel, with a kitchen knife, a weary, exasperating performance,
and now, with an aching back, she was enjoying well-earned repose
under a beech-tree on the lawn. She had scarcely begun to realize
the delight of this exquisite August evening, scarcely turned a page
of her book, when, to her great disgust, she heard a loud "ahem,"
and, looking up, beheld Barry—Barry, gazing at her with angry,
vindictive eyes! His recent penchant had been speedily replaced by
a good, sound, substantial hatred, which he was at no pains to keep
out of his countenance. Helen raised her head and looked at him, and
beheld defiance in his port, and triumph in his glance. No rebuff, no
rejection, could quench the unquenchable.
"So you see you were wrong!" he sneered; "who is the ostrich now—who
is the frog, eh? I wonder you are not above calling people names!"
"Go away, and don't dare to speak to me, sir!"
"But I will speak to you!" he retorted defiantly. "You see, with _all_
your fine talk, the very first girl I asked took me, and was glad of
the chance!"
Helen merely lifted her eyes again and looked at him with frank disgust.
"I'm going to live here; the old fellow agrees. Katie is his favourite
daughter, and any way, it is high time to take the money out of his
hands, and that there was some sane person over the property! I shall
give Darby Chute the sack," he grinned at Helen, and she read in his
eyes that she would undoubtedly "get the sack" also.
"Of course you'll say nothing to them about yesterday," dropping his
tone of authority for one of querulous entreaty, as his eyes fell on
Dido and Katie, hurrying across the lawn. "You keep what I said to you
to yourself?"
"Need you ask?" she returned scornfully.
"Come away from under the tree, and sit upon these shawls!" cried
Katie. "That bench is so unsociable. Here," spreading it as she spoke,
"is one for you and me, Barry, and you may smoke, to keep away the
midges."
"I don't want _your_ leave to do that," was the gallant reply as he
flung himself heavily at the feet of his lady-love, and commenced to
blow clouds of tobacco into the air. Presently he said, "How much did
the cow fetch, Dido?"
"Only sixteen pounds—I'm _so_ disappointed; but Darby said he was glad
to get it, as there were no buyers of dairy stock—only shippers——"
"Sixteen pounds!" echoed Helen. "Are you sure?"
"As sure as any one _can_ be, who has the money in their pocket. Darby
brought it up this afternoon."
"Then, Dido, Darby has robbed you—robbed you shamefully! I overheard
him sell the cow yesterday, and I meant to have told you, but other
things put it out of my head; he sold her for twenty pounds—no wonder
people say he has feathered his nest!"
"Oh, Helen," cried Dido, in dismay, "what is this you are telling me?"
"Just what I've been telling you for the last year, and you would not
listen to me," said Barry in a loud voice. "I always knew he robbed you
out of the face!"
It does not often happen that twice within twenty-four hours, a man's
predictions are fulfilled to the letter—Barry's star was undoubtedly
in the ascendant, he literally swelled with triumph.
"I saw the money counted into his hand," continued Darby's accuser;
"twenty one-pound notes, and I thought how pleased you would be,
and—he kept back four!"
"I've a great mind to go down to him this very evening, and impeach him
to his face. I suppose he has been doing this all along. No _wonder_ i
can't make both ends meet!"
"Don't go to-night," said Katie gravely, "wait till to-morrow. I hear
John Dillon is about again—he shot the Crowmore grouse bog yesterday."
"I always knew that he was nothing but a poacher. Why don't some of the
people try and catch him!" inquired Helen calmly.
"But it _is_ john Dillon—exactly as he was in the flesh—he has been
seen scores of times! Why, you saw him yourself, Barry, _you_ have met
him?" said Katie, appealing to her lover with judicious docility.
"Yes! and I would not meet him again for a million of money. Catch him,
indeed! that's a good joke! You know the man that was found last winter
drowned in a bog hole; they say he was seen struggling with a big black
figure on the brink, and that it was John Dillon put him in, and no
less!"
"I don't believe in Dillon's ghost—a ghost that shoots and smokes!"
retorted Helen scornfully.
"I tell you what, Miss Helen Denis, it is all very fine for you to say,
you don't believe this, and you don't believe that—talking is easy.
I'd have some respect for your opinion, if you will start off now,
alone, and walk to the black gate and back—this," glancing up to the
sky, "is just about his time."
"Do leave her alone, Barry," exclaimed Dido, irritably; "why are you
two always wrangling with each other? Helen, you are not to think of
going."
"Yes!" returned her cousin, rising, "I should like a walk. I'll go, if
it is only to prove to you and Katie, that I have more courage in my
little finger, than other people have in their whole body."
"Do you mean that for me?" demanded Barry fiercely, rising on his elbow
as he spoke.
"If the cap fits, wear it, by all means! You said a moment ago, that
you would not face Dillon for a million. I don't care a fig for
Dillon,—and I am going to meet him now!"
More than this, she was eager to seize the excuse to have a nice long
stroll through the woods by herself, in order that she might arrange
her ideas, and meditate at leisure—for thanks to her affectionate
cousins, she rarely had a moment alone.
"Do you think you will catch him, or will he catch you?" inquired Barry
rudely.
To this she made no reply, and, resisting Katie's eager, almost tearful
entreaties, she snatched up a shawl, and sped away across the grass;
and, as she did so, Barry shouted after her,—
"Mind you carve your name on the gate, to prove you go there _at all_!"