DULWICH AGAIN.
When Jerry O'Brien reached Kilbarry that afternoon, he drove straight
to O'Hanlon's office, and briefly recounted to the astonished
solicitor what he and Jim Phelan had seen at the Black Rock the day
before. O'Hanlon was for a few moments speechless with amazement. When
his amazement wore off a little, he found himself bound in on all
sides with perplexities. He told himself a hundred times that here was
evidence enough to satisfy the most sceptical of judges and juries;
and yet he, a mere solicitor, could not make up his mind to believe.
O'Brien, Phelan, and himself had seen something they would swear was
the figure of a man, and Phelan and himself would swear that what they
had seen was in the likeness of that Mike Fahey who had committed
suicide years ago by throwing himself into the Puffing Hole while, in
respect of a groundless charge, pursued by the police. It was
distracting--it was incredible; but it must be believed.
He remembered when he was told at school that if a penny had been put
out at five per cent, compound interest in the year 1 A.D., it would
then equal in value a mass of gold containing a globe as big as the
earth for every second of time since the beginning of the Christian
era. At first he had said this astounding statement was not true, but
when it was plainly demonstrated that it was even a ridiculous
understatement, he did not say it was not true, but he could not
believe it, although the figures were irrefutable.
This history of the reappearance of Fahey, or some shade or likeness
of him, was now above question. It stood on as firm a basis as
testimony could desire, and yet it was naught to him but myth. Many of
the greatest truths are unbelievable. This was a little truth, but in
its integrity was impenetrable.
The one great consolation was that he, O'Hanlon, need no longer fear
his brain was playing him false.
Like O'Brien, he came to the conclusion that impossible ghost or still
more impossible man, the affair was none of his. He wasn't going mad;
that was the great thing.
That day the two friends chatted the matter over while they sat before
O'Hanlon's fire after dinner, and they both agreed that they would
then and there say good-bye to Mr. Michael Fahey, whether he was
matter or spirit.
The solicitor had no more certain news of the beastly Fishery
Commissioners. They were still hovering about the neighbourhood; but
no one alive, themselves included, could tell what they were going to
do, or were not going to do, but they were still deucedly hard on
weirs. And--no; it would not be at all safe for Jerry to go to
London--just at present.
The two friends separated early, Jerry going back to "The Munster." He
had no desire for a further time in Kilcash. Alfred Paulton would be
soon fit to travel, and then once more he should go back to the
village; but he now had business to watch in Kilbarry. Certificates,
and memorials, and declarations, and so on, had to be obtained or
attended to, and although O'Hanlon did all the business in connection
with the weirs and the Commissioners, both men deemed Jerry's presence
advisable. He was extremely popular in the town, and the request of a
principal is always more efficacious than that of an agent.
He had been only a few days at "The Munster," when a letter put into
his hand one morning caused him an agreeable surprise. The envelope
bore the London postmark, and the superscription, shaky though it
happened to be, was unmistakably in the handwriting of Alfred himself.
Jerry broke the cover hastily, and read the brief pencil note with
pleasure, until he came to the last two sentences--"I do not know
where _she_ is. They will not tell me anything about her."
"Not cured, by Jove!" said Jerry to himself, with disappointment. "One
would think his illness and relapse would have put some sense into his
head, or knocked some nonsense out of it. But, after all, what is
there wrong in it? Why shouldn't he fall in love with whom he likes?
She is older than he, and I am sure she would not marry him, even if a
sleepy Government would only have the good sense and good taste to
hang Blake instead of worrying honest folk about weirs and other
things. Alfred is the best fellow in the world. Who could associate
with Madge and not be good--except, of course, myself? But Alfred is
dull; there's no denying that. He's more than a trifle mutton-headed.
Madge has all the brains of the family, and the best heart, too, only
she's going to throw that away. Is she? Wait till you see, Madge. My
darling!"
He crooked his arm and held it out from him, and looked at the sleeve
of his coat tenderly, as though a head rested there.
"I'll spoil you with love when I get you. Spoil you with love! No
woman ever yet was spoiled with love. It's the flattery and
foolishness which spring from a desire to win a woman any way, no
matter how, so long as you win, that spoil women. I'd like to see a
Fishery Commissioner spooning. By Jove, it would be a fine thing if a
fellow had a sister a Commissioner was spooning! First you could get
him to allow you to do anything you liked, and the moment he turned
crusty, you would only have to ask your sister to poison him. I'm
sorry I haven't a sister. But, stay, I will have one soon. Edith
_must_ marry a Commissioner. When Madge and I are settled, I will ask
Edith to stay with us, and fill the house from garret to basement with
Commissioners. (I wonder how many of the beasts there are?) But I must
not say anything to Madge about this scheme until we are married. If I
mentioned it now she might object to the poison--there is no depending
on women, until they are married. But once a woman is married you may
count on her for anything. Look at Lady Macbeth! What a wife she was
to have at a fellow's elbow! Why, she wasn't merely a wife--she was a
spouse. What the difference is I don't know; but I'm sure she was a
spouse more than a wife--just as an awful father or mother is a
parent. But what is it I was thinking of?"
Jerry could be cool and collected and coherent when he liked, but he
did not like it now.
Days passed by uneventfully with Jerry at Kilbarry. He answered
Alfred's letter, but made no reference to Mrs. Davenport. He thought
it safer not. He was quite sure neither Mr. nor Mrs. Paulton would
look with favour on their son taking a continued interest in the
widow. To him there was something grotesque in Alfred falling in love
with a widow. Beyond doubt Alfred was in love with this strange and
beautiful woman. Jerry did not wonder at his young friend's
enthusiasm. He would have been a cold-blooded man under thirty who
could see her without feeling profound admiration. But Alfred would
have to get over this infatuation. It could never come to anything. Of
course time would cure him. Up to this, time had apparently been
losing its opportunity. When a man is in love with the sister of a
friend, it makes matters pleasanter if the girl's brother is involved
in a similar enterprise. But Jerry would rather forego such an
advantage in his case than that matters should become serious between
Alfred and the beautiful widow.
Daily Jerry saw O'Hanlon, and daily urged upon him the desirability of
despatch. So importunate was the younger man, that his friend and
adviser at length became suspicious and finally certain of the cause
from which Jerry's anxiety for haste sprang. "When the weirs are out
of danger," said the solicitor, "I know the next job you'll give me to
do."
"What is it?" said Jerry, colouring slightly, and looking his
companion defiantly in the face.
"A settlement--a settlement! A marriage settlement, I mean!"--with a
wink.
"Don't be a fool, O'Hanlon. I wish you'd get a settlement about the
weirs."
At length the day came on which Jerry set out for London for the
purpose of bringing over his friend for change of air and scene. In
two senses of the phrase, the weirs were still where they had been
five weeks ago. One of these senses was satisfactory: the weirs
had not been pulled down by the ruthless Commissioners. The other
sense was discouraging: the Commissioners had not yet done with the
weirs, and the weirs were still in danger of being pulled down,
as engines which obstructed the free navigation of the river Bawn.
Notwithstanding this, Jerry made the journey in the best of humours,
and having arrived without adventure or accident at Euston, drove to
his old lodgings and renewed his acquaintance with the civil landlady
and the odious table-cover.
His first call next morning was at Dulwich. He had not written to say
the hour at which he would reach Carlingford House, and when he
arrived and asked the servants after each member of the family, he
found they were all out with the exception of the invalid. At first
this rather chilled Jerry, but upon a moment's consideration he
thought that after all it was best Alfred and he should have a few
moments together alone. There was no reason, as far as he knew, for
precautions of any kind; but Alfred might be excitable, and it was
desirable that Mrs. Davenport's name should occur but sparingly, or
not at all.
He was shown into a little back drawing-room, where he found Alfred
sitting in an easy-chair at the window. Alfred rose with eager
alacrity. The two friends held one another by the hand for some time
in silence. Then Jerry spoke and thanked heaven Alfred looked so well,
quite well, better than ever he had seen him before--thinner no doubt,
but better. "Why, you have got a colour like a bashful girl in a
little fix!"
"I--I have just heard surprising news."
"What is it?" asked Jerry, looking keenly at his friend.
"First, tell me when are we to go to Ireland--to Kilcash?"
"Whenever you like, my dearest Alfred."
"But how soon?" he asked eagerly.
"Whenever you like, my dear boy, I am at your disposal. But do not run
any risk--do not hasten away for my sake."
Jerry was thinking of how little it would cost him in the way of
self-denial if he were obliged to pass a month under this roof.
"But will you hurry away for _mine?_"
"For _yours_, my dear Alfred! Of course I'll do anything you wish. But
how hurry away for _yours?_"
"Then we can start to-morrow for Kilcash?"
"_To-morrow!_ Why, what's the matter, Alfred?"
"Ah, I know it is too late for to-day. But to-morrow we set out for
Kilcash."
"If you wish it. But why this excitement? It's the dullest place in
the world."
"Dull--dull! Why, she's there by this time!"
"_Who, in the name of mercy?_"
"Mrs. Davenport."