AN UNWELCOME VISITOR
A little before sunset on that same day--almost precisely indeed at the
moment at which Flavia's shadow darkened the splayed flank of the
window in the Tower--two men stood beside the entrance at Morristown,
whence the one's whip had just chased the beggars. They were staring at
a third, who, seated nonchalantly upon the horse-block, slapped his
boot with his riding switch, and made as poor a show of hiding his
amusement as they of masking their disgust. The man who slapped his leg
and shaped his lips to a silent whistle, was Major Payton of the --th.
The men who looked at him, and cursed the unlucky star which had
brought him thither, were Luke Asgill and The McMurrough.
"Faith, and I should have thought," Asgill said, with a clouded face,
"that my presence here, Major, and I, a Justice----"
"True for you!" Payton said, with a grin.
"Should have been enough by itself, and the least taste more than
enough, to prove the absurdity of the Castle's story."
"True for you again," Payton replied. "And ain't I saying that but for
your presence here, and a friend at court that I'll not name, it's not
your humble servant this gentleman would be entertaining"--he turned to
The McMurrough--"but half a company and a sergeant's guard!"
"I'm allowing it."
"You've no cause to do other."
"Devil a bit I'm denying it," Asgill replied more amicably; and, as far
as he could, he cleared his face. "It's not that you're not welcome.
Not at all, Major! Sure, and I'll answer for it, my friend, The
McMurrough is glad to welcome any English gentleman, much more one of
your reputation."
"Truth, and I am," The McMurrough assented. But he had not Asgill's
self-control, and his sulky tone belied his words.
"Still--I come at an awkward time, perhaps?" Payton answered, looking
with a grin from one to the other.
For the first time it struck him that the suspicions at headquarters
might be well-founded; in that case he had been rash to put his head in
the lion's mouth. For it had been wholly his own notion. Partly to
tease Asgill, whom he did not love the more because he owed him money,
and partly to see the rustic beauty whom, rumour had it, Asgill was
courting in the wilds--a little, too, because life at Tralee was dull,
he had volunteered to do with three or four troopers what otherwise a
half-company would have been sent to do. That he could at the same time
put his creditor under an obligation, and annoy him, had not been the
least part of the temptation; while no one at Tralee believed the story
sent down from Dublin.
He did not credit it even now for more than two seconds. Then common
sense, and his knowledge of Luke Asgill reassured him. "Eh! An awkward
time, perhaps?" he repeated, looking at The McMurrough. "Sorry, I'm
sure, but----"
"I'd have entertained you better, I'm thinking," James McMurrough said,
"if I'd known you were coming before you came."
"Devil a doubt of it!" said Asgill, whose subtle brain had been at
work. "Not that it matters, bedad, for an Irish gentleman will do his
best. And to-morrow Colonel Sullivan, that's more knowledge of the mode
and foreign ways, will be back, and he'll be helping his cousin. More
by token," he added, in a different tone, "you know him of old?"
Payton, who had frowned at the name, reddened at the question. "Is
that," he asked, "the Colonel Sullivan who----"
"Who tried the foils with Lemoine at Tralee?" Asgill cried heartily.
"The same and no other! He is away to-day, but he'll be returning
tomorrow, and he'll be delighted to see you! And by good luck, there
are foils in the house, and he'll pass the time pleasantly with you!
It's he's the hospitable creature!"
Payton was far from pleased. He was anything but anxious to see the man
whose skill had turned the joke against him; and his face betokened his
feelings. Had he foreseen the meeting he would certainly have remained
in Tralee, and left the job to a subaltern. "Hang it!" he exclaimed,
vexed by the recollection, "a fine mess you led me into there, Asgill!"
"I did not know him then," Asgill replied lightly. "And, pho! Take my
word for it, he's no man to bear malice!"
"Malice, begad!" Payton answered, ill-humouredly; "I think it's I----"
"Ah, you are right again, to be sure!" Asgill agreed, laughing
silently. For already he had formed a hope that the guest might be
manoeuvred out of the house on the morrow. Not that he thought Payton
was likely either to discover the Colonel's plight, or to interfere if
he did. But Asgill had another, and a stronger motive for wishing the
intruder away. He knew Payton. He knew the man's arrogance and
insolence, the contempt in which he held the Irish, his view of them as
an inferior race. And he was sure that, if he saw Flavia and fancied
her--and who that saw her would not fancy her?--he was capable of any
rudeness, any outrage; or, if he learned her position in regard to the
estate, he might prove a formidable, if an honourable, competitor. In
either case, to hasten the man's departure, and to induce Flavia to
remain in the background in the meantime, became Asgill's chief aim.
James McMurrough, on the other hand, saw in the unwelcome intruder an
English officer; and, troubled by his guilty conscience, he dreaded
above all things what he might discover. True, the past was past, the
plot spent, the Spanish ship gone. But the Colonel remained, and in
durance. And if by any chance the Englishman stumbled on him, released
him and heard his story, and lived to carry it back to Tralee--the
consequences might be such that a cold sweat broke out on the young
man's brow at the thought of them. To add to his alarm, Payton, whose
mind was secretly occupied with the Colonel, sought to evince his
indifference by changing the subject, and in doing so, hit on one
singularly unfortunate.
"A pretty fair piece of water," he said, rising with an affected yawn,
and pointing over the lake with his riding-switch. "The tower at the
head of it--it's grown too dark to see it--is it inhabited?"
The McMurrough started guiltily. "The tower?" he stammered. Could it be
that the man knew all, and was here to expose him? His heart stood
still, then raced.
"The Major'll be meaning the tower on the rock," Asgill said smoothly,
but with a warning look. "Ah, sure, it'll be used at times, Major, for
a prison, you understand."
"Oh!"
"But we'll be better to be moving inside, I'm thinking," he continued.
Payton assented. He was still brooding on his enemy, the Colonel, and
his probable arrival on the morrow. Curse the man, he was thinking. Why
couldn't he keep out of his way?
"Take the Major in, McMurrough," Asgill said, who on his side was on
tenter-hooks lest Flavia and Morty O'Beirne should arrive from the
Tower. "You'll like to get rid of your boots before supper, Major?" he
went on. "Bid Darby send the Major's man to him, McMurrough; or,
better, I'll be going to the stables myself and I'll be telling him!"
As the others went in, Asgill strolled on this pretext towards the
stables. But when they had passed out of sight he turned and walked
along the lake to meet the girl and her companion. As he walked he had
time to think, and to decide how he might best deal with Flavia, and
how much and what he should tell her. When he met them, therefore--by
this time the night was falling--his first question related to their
errand, and to that which an hour before had been the one
pre-occupation of all their minds.
"Well," he said, "he'll not have yielded yet, I am thinking?"
Dark as it was, the girl averted her face to hide the trouble in her
eyes. She shook her head. "No," she said, "he has not."
"I did not count on it," Asgill replied cheerfully. "But time--time and
hunger and patience--devil a doubt he'll give in presently."
She did not answer, but he fancied--she kept her face averted--that she
shivered.
"While you have been away, something has happened," he continued. After
all, it was perhaps as well, he reflected, that Payton had come. His
coming, even if Flavia did not encounter him, would divert her
thoughts, would suggest an external peril, would prevent her dwelling
too long or too fancifully on that room in the Tower, and on the man
who famished there. She hated the Colonel, Asgill believed. She had
hated him, he was sure. But how long would she continue to hate him in
these circumstances? How long if she learned what were the Colonel's
feelings towards her? "An unwelcome guest has come," he continued
glibly, "and one that'll be giving trouble, I'm fearing."
"A guest?" Flavia repeated in astonishment. She halted. What time for
guests was this? "And unwelcome?" she added. "Who is it?"
"An English officer," Asgill explained, "from Tralee. He is saying that
the Castle has heard something, and has sent him here to look about
him."
Naturally the danger seemed greater to the two than to Asgill, who knew
his man. Words of dismay broke from Flavia and O'Beirne. "From Tralee?"
she cried. "And an English officer? Good heavens! Do you know him?"
"I do," Asgill answered confidently. "And, believe me or no, I can
manage him." He began to appreciate this opportunity of showing himself
the master of the position. "I hold him, like that, not the least doubt
of it; but the less we'll be doing for him the sooner he'll be going,
and the safer we'll be! I would not be so bold as to advise," he
continued diffidently, "but I'm thinking it would be no worse if you
left him to be entertained by the men."
"I will!" she cried, embracing the idea. "Why should I be wanting to
see him?"
"Then I think he'll be ordering his horse to-morrow!"
"I wish he were gone now!" she cried.
"Ah, so do I!" he replied, from his heart.
"I will go in through the garden," she said.
He assented; it was to that point he had been moving. She turned aside,
and for a moment he bent to the temptation to go with her. Since the
day on which he had voluntarily left the house at the Colonel's
dictation he had made progress in her favour. He was sure that he had
come closer to her--that she had begun not only to suffer his company,
but to suffer it willingly. And here, as she passed through the
darkling garden under the solid blackness of the yews, was an
opportunity of making a further advance. She would have to grope her
way, a reason for taking her hand might offer, and--his head grew hot
at the thought.
But he thrust the temptation from him. He knew that it was not only the
stranger's presence that weighed her down, but her recollection of the
man in the Tower and his miserable plight. This was not the time, nor
was she in the mood for such advances; and, putting pressure on
himself, Asgill turned from her, satisfied with what he had done.
As he went on with Morty, he gave him a hint to say as little in
Payton's presence as possible, and to leave the management to him. "I
know the man," he explained, "and where he's weak. I'm for seeing the
back of him as soon as we can, but without noise."
"There's always the bog," grumbled Morty. He did not love Asgill
overmuch, and the interview with the Colonel had left him in a restive
mood.
"And the garrison at Tralee," Asgill rejoined drily, "to ask where he
is! And his troopers to answer the question."
Morty fell back on sullenness, and bade him manage it his own way.
"Only I'll trouble you not to blame me," he added, "if the English
soger finds the Colonel, and ruins us entirely!"
"I'll not," Asgill answered pithily, "if so be you'll hold your
tongue."
So at supper that night Payton looked in vain for the Kerry beauty
whose charms the warmer wits of the mess had more than once painted in
hues rather florid than fit. Lacking her, he found that the
conversation lay wholly between Asgill and himself. Nor did this
surprise him, when he had surmounted his annoyance at the young lady's
absence; for the contempt in which he held the natives disposed him to
expect nothing from them. On the contrary, he found it natural that
these savages should sit silent before a man of the world, and, like
the clowns they were, find nothing to say fit for a gentleman to hear.
Under such circumstances he was not unwilling to pose before them in an
indolent, insolent fashion, to show them what a great person he was,
and to speak of things beyond their ken. Playing this part, he would
have enjoyed himself tolerably--nor the less because now and again he
let his contempt for the company peep from under his complaisance--but
for the obtuseness, or the malice of his friend; who, as if he had only
one man and one idea in his head, let fall with every moment some
mention of Colonel John. Now, it was the happy certainty of the
Colonel's return next day that inspired his eloquence; now, the
pleasure with which the Colonel would meet Payton again; now, the lucky
chance that found a pair of new foils on the window ledge among the
fishing-tackle, the old fowling-pieces, and the ragged copies of
_Armida_ and _The Don_.
"For he's ruined entirely and no one to play with him!" Asgill
continued, a twinkle, which he made no attempt to hide, in his eye. "No
one, I'm meaning, Major, of his sort of force at all! Begad, boys,
you'll see some fine fencing for once! Ye'll think ye've never seen any
before I'm doubting!"
"I'm not sure that I can remain to-morrow," Payton said in a surly
tone. For he began to suspect that Asgill was quizzing him. He noticed
that every time the Justice named Colonel Sullivan, whether he referred
to his return, or exalted his prowess, a sensation, a something that
was almost a physical stir passed round the table. Men looked furtively
at one another, or looked straight before them, as if they were in a
design. If that were so, the design could only be to pit Colonel
Sullivan against him, or in some way to provoke a quarrel between them.
He felt a qualm of distrust and apprehension, for he remembered the
words the Colonel had used in reference to their next meeting; and he
was confirmed in the plan he had already formed--to be gone next day.
But in the meantime his temper moved him to carry the war into the
enemy's country.
"I didn't know," he snarled, taking Asgill up in the middle of a eulogy
of Colonel John's skill, "that he was so great a favourite of yours."
"He was not," Asgill replied drily.
"He is now, it seems!" in the same sneering tone.
"We know him better. Don't we, boys?"
They murmured assent.
"And the lady whose horse I sheltered for you," the Major continued,
spitefully watching for an opening--"confound you, little you thanked
me for it!--she must be still more in his interest than you. And how
does that suit your book?"
Asgill had great self-control, and the Major was not, except where his
malice was roused, a close observer. But the thrust was so unexpected
that on the instant Payton read the other's secret in his eyes--knew
that he loved, and knew that he was jealous. Jealous of Sullivan!
Jealous of the man whom he was for some reason praising. Then why not
jealous of a younger, a more proper, a more fashionable rival? Asgill's
cunningly reared plans began to sink, and even while he answered he
knew it.
"She likes him," he said, "as we all do."
"Some more, some less," Payton answered with a grin.
"Just so," the Irishman returned, controlling himself. "Some more, some
less. And why not, I'm asking."
"I think I must stay over to-morrow," Payton remarked, smiling at the
ceiling. "There must be a good deal to be seen here."
"Ah, there is," Asgill answered in apparent good humour.
"Worth seeing, too, I'll be sworn!" the Englishman replied, smiling
more broadly.
"And that's true, too!" the other rejoined.
He had himself in hand; and it was not from him that the proposal to
break up the party came. The Major it was who at last pleaded fatigue.
Englishmen's heads, he said, were stronger than their stomachs; they
were a match for port but not for claret. "Too much Bordeaux," he
continued, with careless contempt, "gives me the vapours next day. It's
a d--d sour drink, I call it! Here's a health to Methuen and sound
Oporto!"
"You should correct it, Major, with a little cognac," The McMurrough
suggested politely.
"Not to-night; and, by your leave, I'll have my man called and go to
bed."
"It's early," James McMurrough said, playing the host.
"It is, but I'll have my man and go to bed," Payton answered, with true
British obstinacy. "No offence to any gentleman."
"There's none will take it here," Asgill answered. "An Irishman's house
is his guest's castle." But, knowing that Payton liked his glass, he
wondered; until it occurred to him that the other wished to have his
hand steady for the sword-play next day. He meant to stay, then! "Hang
him! Hang him!" he repeated in his mind.
The McMurrough, who had risen, took a light and attended his guest to
his room. Asgill and the O'Beirnes--the smaller folk had withdrawn
earlier--remained seated at the table, the young men scoffing at the
Englishman's weak head, and his stiffness and conceit of himself,
Asgill silent and downcast. His scheme for ridding himself of Payton
had failed; it remained to face the situation. He did not distrust
Flavia; no Englishman, he was sure, would find favour with her. But he
distrusted Payton, his insolence, his violence, and the privileged
position which his duellist's skill gave him. And then there was
Colonel John. If Payton learned what was afoot at the Tower, and saw
his way to make use of it, the worst might happen to all concerned.
He looked up at a touch from Morty, and to his astonishment he saw
Flavia standing at the end of the table. There was a hasty scrambling
to the feet, for the men had not drunk deep, and by all in the house,
except her brother, the girl was treated with respect. After a fashion,
they were to a man in love with her.
"I was thinking," Asgill said, foreseeing trouble, "that you were in
bed and asleep." Her hair was tied back negligently and her dress
half-fastened at the throat.
"I cannot sleep," she answered. And then she stood a moment drumming
with her slender fingers on the table, and the men noticed that she was
unusually pale. "I cannot sleep," she repeated, a tremor in her voice.
"I keep thinking of him. I want some one--to go to him."
"Now?"
"Now!"
"But," Asgill said slowly, "I'm thinking that to do that were to give
him hopes. It were to spoil all. Once in twenty-four hours--that was
agreed, and he was told. And it is not four hours since you were there.
If there is one thing needful, not the least doubt of it!--it is to
leave him thinking that we're meaning it."
He spoke gently and reasonably. But the girl laboured, it was plain,
under a weight of agitation that did not suffer her to reason, much
less to answer him reasonably. She was as one who wakes in the dark
night, with the terror of an evil dream upon him, and cannot for a time
shake it off. "But if he dies?" she cried in a woeful tone. "If he dies
of hunger? Oh, my God, of hunger! What have we done then? I tell you,"
she continued, struggling with overwhelming emotion, "I cannot bear it!
I cannot bear it!" She looked from one to the other as appealing to
each in turn to share her horror, and to act. "It is wicked, it is
wicked!" she continued, in a shriller tone and with a note of defiance
in her voice, "and who will answer for it? Who will answer for it, if
he dies? I, not you! I, who tricked him, who lied to him, who lured him
there!"
For a moment there was a stricken silence in the room. Then, "And what
had he done to you?" Asgill retorted with spirit--for he saw that if he
did not meet her on her own plane she was capable of any act, however
ruinous. "Or, if not to you, to Ireland, to your King, to your Country,
to your hopes?" He flung into his voice all the indignation of which he
was master. "A trick, you say? Was it not by a trick he ruined all? The
fairest prospect, the brightest day that ever dawned for Ireland! The
day of freedom, of liberty, of----"
She twisted her fingers feverishly together. "Yes," she said, "yes!
Yes, but--I can't bear it! I can't! I can't! It is no use talking," she
continued with a violent shudder. "You are here--look!" she pointed to
the table strewn with the remains of the meal, with flasks and glasses
and tall silver-edged horns. "But he is--starving! Starving!" she
repeated, as if the physical pain touched herself.
"You shall go to him to-morrow! Go, yourself!" he replied in a soothing
tone.
"I!" she cried. "Never!"
"Oh, but----" Asgill began, perplexed but not surprised by her
attitude--"But here's your brother," he continued, relieved. "He will
tell you--he'll tell you, I'm sure, that nothing can be so harmful as
to change now. Your sister," he went on, addressing The McMurrough, who
had just descended the stairs, "she's wishing some one will go to the
Colonel, and see if he's down a peg. But I'm telling her----"
"It's folly entirely, you should be telling her!" James McMurrough
replied, curtly and roughly. Intercourse with Payton had not left him
in the best of tempers. "To-morrow at sunset, and not an hour earlier,
he'll be visited. And then it'll be you, Flavvy, that'll speak to him!
What more is it you're wanting?"
"I speak to him?" she cried. "I couldn't!"
"But it'll be you'll have to!" he replied roughly. "Wasn't it so
arranged?"
"I couldn't," she replied, in the same tone of trouble. "Some one
else--if you like!"
"But it's not some one else will do," James retorted.
"But why should I be the one--to go?" she wailed. She had Colonel
John's face before her, haggard, sunken, famished, as, peering into the
gloomy, firelit room, she had seen it that afternoon, ay, and as she
had seen it later against the darkness of her bedroom. "Why should I,"
she repeated, "be the one to go?"
"For a very good reason," her brother retorted with a sneer. And he
looked at Asgill and laughed.
That look, which she saw, and the laugh which went with it, startled
her as a flash of light startles a traveller groping through darkness.
"Why?" she repeated in a different tone. "Why?"
But neither her tone nor Asgill's warning glance put James McMurrough
on his guard; he was in one of his brutal humours. "Why?" he replied.
"Because he's a silly fool, as I'm thinking some others are, and has a
fancy for you, Flavvy! Faith, you're not blind!"--he continued,
forgetting that he had only learned the fact from Asgill a few days
before, and that it was news to the younger men--"and know it, I'll be
sworn, as well as I do! Any way, I've a notion that if you let him see
that there is no one in the house wishes him worse than you, or would
see him starve, the stupid fool, with a lighter heart--I'm thinking it
will be for bringing him down, if anything will!"
She did not answer. And outwardly she was not much moved. But inwardly,
the horror of herself and her part in the matter, which she had felt as
she lay upstairs in the darkness, thinking of the starving man, whelmed
up and choked her. They were using her for this! They were using her
because the man--loved her! Because hard words, cruel treatment,
brutality from her would be ten times more hard, more cruel, more
brutal than from others! Because such treatment at her hands would be
more likely to break his spirit and crush his heart! To what viler use,
to what lower end could a woman be used, or human feeling be
prostituted?
Nor was this all. On the tide of this loathing of herself rose another,
a newer and a stranger feeling. The man loved her. She did not doubt
the statement. Its truth came home to her at once, although, occupied
with other views of him, she had never suspected the fact. And because
it placed him in a different light, because it placed him in a light in
which she had never viewed him before, because it recalled a hundred
things, acts, words on his part which she had barely noted at the time,
but which now took on another aspect, it showed him, too, as one whom
she had never seen. Had he been free at this moment, prosperous,
triumphant, the knowledge that he loved her, that he, her enemy, loved
her, might have revolted her--she might have hated him the more for it.
But now that he lay a prisoner, famished, starving, the fact that he
loved her touched her heart, transfixed her with an almost poignant
feeling, choked her with a rising flood of pity and self-reproach.
"So there you have it, Flavvy!" James cried complacently. "And sure,
you'll not be making a fool of yourself at this time of day!"
She stood as one stunned; looking at him with strange eyes, thinking,
not answering. Asgill, and Asgill only, saw a burning blush dye for an
instant the whiteness of her face. He, and he only, discovered, with
the subtle insight of one who loved, a part of what she was thinking.
He wished James McMurrough in the depth of hell. But it was too late,
or he feared so.
Great was his relief, therefore, when she spoke. "Then you'll not--be
going now?" she said.
"Now?" James retorted contemptuously. "Haven't I told you, you'll go
to-morrow?"
"If I must," she said slowly, "I will--if I must."
"Then what's the good of talking, I'm thinking?" The McMurrough
answered. And he was going on--being in a bullying mood--to say more in
the same strain, when the opportunity was taken from him. One of the
O'Beirnes, who happened to avert his eyes from the girl, discovered
Payton standing at the foot of the stairs. Phelim's exclamation
apprised the others that something was amiss, and they turned.
"I left my snuff-box on the table," Payton said, with a sly grin. How
much he had heard they could not tell. "Ha! there it is! Thank you.
Sorry! Sorry, I am sure! Hope I don't trespass. Will you present me to
your sister, Mr. McMurrough?"
James McMurrough had no option but to do so--looking foolish; while
Luke Asgill stood by with rage in his heart, cursing the evil chance
which had brought Flavia downstairs.
"I assure you," Payton said, bowing low before her, but not so low that
the insolence of his smile was hidden from all, "I think myself happy.
My friend Asgill's picture of you, warmly as he painted it, fell
infinitely--infinitely below the reality!"