RELEASE OF THE CAPTIVE.
All Nora's wishes were carried into effect. The long cart was got out.
An old mattress was secured, also an old bedstead. The mattress happened
to be well aired, for, indeed, it was one on which the Squire himself
had slept the previous night; but, as he remarked, he would gladly give
the bed from under him for the sake of his old friend O'Shanaghgan.
Molly helped, also Biddy and Nora, in all the preparations, and at
last the three girls jumped upon the outside car and returned to
O'Shanaghgan. Biddy felt that she was anything but welcome. She was
certainly not looking her best. Her dress was of the shabbiest, and her
turned-up nose looked more celestial than ever. Molly was gazing at her
just as if she were a sort of curiosity, and finally Biddy resented this
close scrutiny, and turned to Nora, grasping her by the hand.
“Tell her,” said Biddy, “that it is very rude to stare in that sort of
stolid way. If she were an Irish girl she would give a flashing glance
and then look away again; but that way of staring full and stiff puts a
body out. Tell her it is not true Irish manners.”
“Oh, Jehoshaphat!” exclaimed Molly, “I hear you both whispering
together. What is it all about? I am nearly wild trying to keep myself
on this awful car, and I know you are saying something not in my favor.”
“We are that,” cried Biddy; “we are just wishing you would keep your
English manners to yourself.”
Molly flushed rather indignantly.
“I did not know that I was doing anything,” she said.
“Why, then,” cried Biddy, “is it nothing when you are bringing the
blushes to my cheeks and the palpitation to my heart; and is it nothing
to be, as it were, exposed to the scorn of the English? Why, then,
bedad! I have got my nose from the old Irish kings, from whom I am
descended, as true as true. Blue is my blood, and I am as proud of my
ancestry as if I was Queen Victoria herself. I see that you have neat,
straight features; but you have not got a scrap of royal blood in
you--now, have you?”
“I don't think so,” answered Molly, laughing in spite of herself. “Well,
if it offends you, I will try not to look at you again.”
The drive came to an end, and Nora entered the big, splendidly furnished
hall, accompanied by Molly and Biddy. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan happened to be
standing there. She came hurriedly forward.
“My dear Nora,” she began, but then her eyes fell upon Biddy. Her brows
went up with a satirical action; she compressed her lips and kept back a
sigh of annoyance.
“How do you do, Miss Murphy?” she said.
“I am fine, thank you kindly, ma'am,” replied Biddy; “and it is sorry I
am that I had not time to change my dress and put on the pink one with
the elegant little flounces that my aunt sent me from Dublin.”
“Oh, your present dress will do very well,” said Mrs. O'Shanaghgan,
suppressing an internal shudder at the thought of Biddy at the renovated
Castle of O'Shanaghgan in her dirty pink dress with the flounces.
“But, Miss Murphy,” she continued, “I am sorry that I cannot ask you
to stay. The Squire is too unwell to admit of our having friends at
present.”
“Oh, glory!” cried Biddy, “and how am I to get back again? Why, it was
on your own outside car that I came across country, and I cannot walk
all the way back to Cronane. Oh, but what a truly beautiful house! I
never saw anything like it. Why, it is a sort of palace!”
Biddy's open admiration of the glories of O'Shanaghgan absolutely made
the good mistress of the mansion smile. Mrs. O'Shanaghgan felt that Nora
did not really care for the beautiful place--the grandly furnished rooms
had brought no enthusiasm or delight to her heart. Nora had tried very
hard to keep in her real feelings; but her mother was quite sharp enough
to know what they were. There was little pleasure in taking a girl round
rooms, corridors, and galleries when she was only forcing herself to say
pretty things which she did not feel. Molly, of course, had always lived
in a beautiful and well-furnished house; therefore there was nothing
exciting in showing her the present magnificence of O'Shanaghgan, and
half Mrs. O'Shanaghgan's pleasure was showing the place in its now regal
state to her friends. Biddy's remark, therefore, was most fortunate.
Even wild, unkempt, untaught Irish Biddy was better than no one.
“I tell you what it is,” said the good lady, with quite a gracious
expression stealing over her features, “if you will promise to walk
softly, and not to make any loud remarks, I will take you through the
suite of drawing rooms and the big dining room and my morning room; but
you must promise to be very quiet if I give you this great pleasure.”
“And it is glad I'll be, and as mum as a mouse. I'll hold my hands to my
heart, and keep in everything; but, oh, Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, if I am fit
to burst now and then, you will let me run to the window and give a
big sigh? It is all I'll ask, to relieve myself; but mum's the word for
everything else.”
On these terms Mrs. O'Shanaghgan conducted her unwelcome guest through
the rooms, and after a brief tour Biddy joined her companions in the
yard. Nora was busy sweeping out the barn herself, and, with the aid
of Hannah Croneen and Molly, was already beginning to put it to rights.
Biddy was now free to join the other conspirators, and the girls quickly
became friends under these conditions.
Hannah proved herself a most valuable ally. She whisked about, dashing
here and there, raising a whirlwind of dust, but, in Nora's opinion,
effecting wonders. Angus also was drawn into the midst of the fray. His
delight and approval of Nora's scheme was almost beyond bounds.
“Ah, then,” he said; “it's this will do the masther good. Oh, then, Miss
Nora, it's you that has the 'cute ways.”
A tarpaulin was found and laid upon the floor. From Hannah's cottage a
small deal table was fetched. A washstand was given by Angus; a cracked
basin and jug were further secured; and Nora gave implicit directions
with regard to the boiling of the mealy potatoes and the little scrap of
bacon on which the Squire was to sup.
“You will bring them in--the potatoes, I mean--in their jackets,” said
the Irish girl, “and have them hot as hot can be.”
“They shall screech, that they shall,” replied Hannah; “and the bacon,
it shall be done as tasty and sweet as bacon can be. I'll give the last
bit of my own little pigeen, with all the heart in the world, for the
Squire's supper.”
Accordingly, when the long cart arrived from Cronane, accompanied by
the Squire and his factotum, Mike, the barn was ready to receive the
bedstead, the straw paillasse, and the mattress. Nora managed to
convey, from the depths of the Castle, sheets, blankets, pillows, and
a counterpane, and everything was in apple-pie order by the time the
family was supposed to assemble for afternoon tea. This was the
hour that Nora had selected for having the Squire removed from his
feather-bed existence to the more breezy life of the barn. It was now
the fashion at O'Shanaghgan to make quite a state occasion of afternoon
tea. The servants, in their grand livery, were all well to the fore.
Mrs. O'Shanaghgan, dressed as became the lady of so beautiful a place,
sat in her lovely drawing room to receive her guests; and the guests
came up in many conveyances--some in carriages, some on outside cars,
some on dog-carts, some on foot; but, come as they would, they came, day
after day, to show their respects to the lady whom now the whole country
delighted to honor.
On these occasions Mr. Hartrick sat with his sister, and helped her to
entertain her visitors. It had been one of the sore points between Nora
and her mother that the former would not appear to afternoon tea. Nora
had made her sick father her excuse. On the present occasion she took
good care not even to show her face inside the house. But Molly kept
watch, just behind the plantation, and soon rushed into the yard to say
that the carriages were beginning to appear.
“A curious party have come just now,” said Molly, “in such a droll
carriage, with yellow wheels and a glass body. It looks like a sort of a
Lord Mayor's coach.”
“Why, it must be the coach of the O'Rorkes,” cried Nora. “Fancy Madam
coming to see mother! Why, Madam will scarcely pay a visit to royalty
itself. There is no doubt that mother is thought a lot of now. Oh, dear,
oh, dear, what a frightfully society life we shall have to lead here in
future! But I have no time to think of mother and her friends just now.
Squire, will you come upstairs with me to see father? Hannah, please
wait down here to be ready to help? Angus, you must also come upstairs,
and wait in the passage outside the Squire's room until I send for you.”
Having given her directions, Nora entered the house. All was quiet and
peaceful. The well trained English servants were, some of them, in the
kitchen premises, and some of them attending in the hall and drawing
rooms, where the guests were now arriving thick and fast. Nora had
chosen her hour well. She entered her father's room, accompanied by
Squire Murphy.
The old Squire was lying, half-dozing, in his luxurious bed. The fire
had been recently built up. The room felt close.
“Ah, dear!” said Squire Murphy, “it is difficult to breathe here! And
how's yourself, O'Shanaghgan, my man? Why, you do look drawn and pulled
down. I am right glad to see ye, that I am.”
The Squire of Cronane grasped the hand of the Squire of O'Shanaghgan,
and the Squire of O'Shanaghgan looked up at the other man's
weather-beaten face with a pathetic expression in his deep-set,
hawk-like, dark eyes.
“I am bad, Murphy--very bad,” said the Squire; “it's killing me they are
amongst them.”
“Why, then, it looks like it,” said Squire Murphy. “I never was in such
a smotheration of a place before. Faix, then, why don't you have the
window open, and have a bit of air circulating through the room?”
“It's forbid I am,” said the Squire. “Ah, Murphy! it's killing me, it's
killing me.”
“But it shall kill you no longer, father,” said Nora. “Oh, father!
Squire Murphy and I have made up such a lovely, delicious plan. What
would you say to a big, bare room again, father; and a hard bed again,
father; and potatoes and a pinch of salt and a little bit of bacon
again, father?”
“What would I say?” cried the Squire. “I'd say, glory be to Heaven, and
all the Saints be praised; but it is too good luck to be true.”
“Not a bit of it,” said Squire Murphy; “it is going to be true. You just
do what you are bid, and you will be in the hoight of contentment.”
The wonder-stricken Squire now had to listen to Nora's plan.
“We have done it,” she cried, in conclusion; “the barn is ready. It
makes a lovely bedroom; there are no end of draughts, and you'll get
well in a jiffy.”
“Then let's be quick,” said the Squire, “or your lady-mother will be
up and prevent me. Hurry, Nora, for Heaven's sake! For the life of me,
don't give me a cup of cold water to taste, and then dash it from my
lips. If we are not quick, we'll be caught and prevented from going. I
am ready; wrap me up in a rug, and carry me out. I am ready and willing.
Good-by to feather bed-dom. I don't want ever to see these fal-lals
again.”
The next few moments were ones of intense excitement; but before ten
minutes had elapsed the Squire was lying in the middle of the hard
bed, gazing round him with twinkling eyes and a smile on his lips. The
appearance of Hannah Croneen, with a dish of steaming potatoes and a
piece of boiled bacon, was the final crown to his rapture.