My impulse, when I read that sad message from my dead mother, was to
rise from my bed and saddle the horse and return, cost what it might, to
Kilgorman. Had I done so I might perchance have saved myself months,
even years, of trouble.
But in a weak moment I let my fatigue and my irresolution and my fear of
the ghost get the better of me, and decided to put off till to-morrow
what I should have done to-day. If in after years my worst enemy had to
confess that what I did I did quickly, it was due to the lesson which
this one act of procrastination taught me.
Putting everything together, the meaning of the letter seemed pretty
clear. My mother, distraught by the sudden death of her master and
mistress, and believing herself to be dying too, had desired to ease her
mind of a secret (I knew not what) which lay upon it; but being in dread
of it falling into wrong hands, had written it and hidden it in some
place, leaving this slender clue to the chance discoverer of her little
book of ballads.
How was it possible to believe otherwise than that Providence had, after
fourteen years, placed that clue in the hands of her son, and thereby
imposed upon me a duty from which, whatever it was, I should have been
undutiful, and a coward to boot, had I shrunk?
But, as I tell you, for one night I shrunk from it, resolving that on
the morrow I would obey the summons. But many to-morrows were to come
and go before the promise could be fulfilled.
His honour returned at dead of night from Derry, and when, as usual, I
presented myself to wait at breakfast, I was surprised to find him
seated there with his wife and daughter.
Miss Kit was in her wonted high spirits, and alarmed me by plunging at
once into the story of yesterday's adventure.
"Father," she said, "why is Kilgorman all barred and bolted against its
future mistress? Here was I, yesterday, standing humbly like a beggar
on the doorstep of our own house, and obliged to slink away disappointed
after all."
His honour looked up with an angry flush on his pale face.
"Kilgorman!" cried he; "what took you there? Don't you know no one is
allowed within the grounds?"
"I didn't know till Barry told me. And even then I did not suppose the
prohibition applied to me."
His honour rounded angrily on me.
"What does this mean, sirrah? How did you dare to take her to Kilgorman
after the charge I laid upon you?"
"Barry take me, indeed!" broke in Miss Kit, with a mighty toss of her
head. "Barry takes me nowhere. It was I took him, whether he would or
not; and a very poor adventure he made of it. You shall take me
yourself next time, father."
"Understand," said his honour, looking very black, "that no one, not
even my daughter, is permitted to go where I forbid.--As for you, you
prying fool," added he, turning on me, "you shall see whether I am to be
obeyed or not."
I deemed it prudent to say nothing, and retired, pretty determined that
were his honour Saint Patrick himself he should not keep me out of
Kilgorman. But I had missed my chance.
After that day my position at Knockowen became more irksome than ever,
for I was taken from my work in the stables, and a new boy appointed in
my place to tend the horses and accompany Miss Kit when she rode out.
And I was kept all day within doors, at everybody's beck and call, from
cock-crow, when I had to light the fires, to midnight, when I had to see
his honour's clothes brushed and laid out in his dressing-room.
My only liberty, if liberty it might be called, was when the boat was
wanted. There my seamanship made me necessary. But since no one
thought of sailing towards the lough mouth, but only across or up
towards Rathmullan, there was no chance of my defying his honour's
regulations that way.
For a week or two even my mother's message was driven from my head by
hatred of my rival, the new groom--a villainous-looking rascal, some
years my elder, who yet had not even the merit of being a good horseman
to commend him.
Rightly or wrongly, I suspected that part of his business was to keep a
watch on me. And if anything could determine me to defiance that was
enough. As to Miss Kit, I humbly hoped she liked the change as little
as I; for since her liberty was cut off from one road, and her new
lackey had neither looks nor conversation to commend him, her love of
riding gradually flagged, and presently Martin--that was the fellow's
name--had to lead out her riderless horse for exercise.
The trying thing to me was that Martin would not even do me the
compliment of recognising me as his enemy. It was not for lack of
invitation, nor was it owing to cowardice. But he was a dogged, short-
sighted villain, taken up with his own concerns, and not choosing to
trouble his head with those of others.
But one day I had the luck to startle him out of his reserve. Miss Kit
came down to the yard that morning, and for the first time for more than
a week ordered out her horse.
Martin, who was sitting lazily in the kitchen, rose somewhat sulkily and
said,--
"It's not the day for a ride. Sure Juno's that saucy with want of work
there'll be no holding her in. Besides, the master--"
But the young lady cut him short.
"Get up, sir, at once, and do as you are bid. There's more than Juno is
saucy with want of work. Be quick now."
He went off with a scowl, and presently returned, leading out Juno and
the horse on which he was to follow--a great-limbed animal called Paddy.
What he had said about my little lady's mare was very true. High-
spirited she was at best of times, but a week's idleness and eating had
made her fairly wicked; and as I looked out from the kitchen door to
watch them start, I wished it was my business and not Martin's to see
her safe on her way.
"Hold her head till I mount," said Miss Kit, after trying for a minute
or two to coax the mare into peace. "She will be easy enough when I am
up."
But though Martin held her head, the animal yet started and shied and
curvetted every time Miss Kit gathered the reins in her hand and lifted
her foot to the stirrup.
So I came out to the yard and gave her my hand to mount by.
Martin scowled very black at this.
"Go along away out of that," said he, when my lady was fairly perched on
the saddle; "the mare's enough to fright her without you."
"Get you up on Paddy," said I, "and don't talk to me.--So, steady there,
Juno lass.--Hold her gently, Miss Kit."
Martin, muttering to himself, let go the mare's head and walked over to
where Paddy stood.
Just then, as luck would have it, out came Con the dog with a joyous
yap.
This sudden noise was too much for the courage of Juno, who, feeling her
head free and only a light weight on her back, gave a wild plunge, and
next moment was away at a gallop out of the yard gate and down the
avenue.
It was no time for halting. The mare must be caught before she could
reach the cliffs, or to a certainty she and her rider were doomed.
Martin stood with his hand on Paddy's mane, gaping after the runaway.
With a sudden spring I dashed him aside and vaulted into the saddle, and
before he could expostulate or guess what had happened I was away in
full chase.
Even in the terror of the moment I could not help laughing to myself at
the thought of poor Martin tumbling across the stable-yard, and finding
himself out of the hunt. After that he would at least deign to
recognise Barry Gallagher.
Though scarcely half-a-minute had elapsed, Juno and her precious burden
were at the end of the long avenue before I was at the beginning of it.
Paddy, amazed at all the excitement, lost some seconds in plunging
before I could induce him to lay himself out for the pursuit. Then, to
do him justice, he needed little coaxing from me. If only his wind was
as long as his stride, this hue and cry might prove a holiday freak. If
not--
It was a moment of keen suspense when at last I got clear of the avenue
and looked round in search of the fugitive. There she was, her light
figure thrown back as she strained at the reins, and her face turned to
the upland ahead. Just beyond Knockowen, on the south side, is a long
stretch of smooth turf, lying along the cliff-tops for a mile or more,
and then suddenly cut short by a deep chasm in the coast, into which the
waters of the lough pour tumultuously even in fair weather, and in foul,
rage and boil as if in a caldron. It was a favourite sport of Miss Kit
to gallop along this tempting stretch of grass, and Juno knew the way
only too well.
As I came into the open, I could see that, in spite of the rider's
efforts, the mare was making straight for the dangerous cliffs, and that
in a few short minutes, unless a miracle happened, or unless I could
reach the spot first, her mad career was likely to end in a way it made
me sick to contemplate.
I stood in my stirrups and gave a loud halloo, and could see Miss Kit
turn her head for a moment and then settle down again to the task of
keeping her seat and pulling frantically at the reins; while I, aiming
direct for the point of danger, put Paddy in a straight line across
country.
It was a desperate race, that between the mad, high-mettled mare and the
canny, raw-boned hunter. Happily he had but a boy's light weight to
carry. For a moment or two I lost sight of the runaways. Then as I
cleared a rise I saw them, a quarter of a mile away on my right, our
courses closing on one another at every yard.
Presently, with a sickening sensation, I caught sight of the solitary
beacon-post which marks the edge of the chasm for the unwary traveller.
On clear ground I could have been certain of arriving there in time to
stop the mare, but, to my dismay, two tumble-down stone walls, of which
I had forgotten the existence, lay between me and the goal. The nearer
of them was fairly high; the other, only twenty yards beyond, was lower,
but more dangerous on account of the loose stones between the two.