Perhaps there was nothing extraordinary, after the encouragement which
Emon had met with upon his first appearance at Rathcash chapel after
"the accident," if he found it pleasanter to "overtake mass" there
than to come in quietly at Shanvilla. The walk did him good. Be this
as it may, he was now a regular attendant at a chapel which was a mile
and a half further from his home than his own.
Two Sundays had now come round since Tom Murdock had seen the
reception which "that whelp" had met with from the Cavanas, not only
as he came out of the chapel, but in asking him up to the house, and,
he supposed, giving him luncheon; for the visits had been repeated
each successive Sunday. Then that fellow M'Dermott had also come to
their chapel, and he and Kate Mulvey had also gone up with the
Cavanas. This was now the third Sunday on which this had taken place;
and not only Winny herself, but her father seemed to acquiesce in
bringing it about.
Tom's fortnight had passed by, and he had not "won the trick," as he
had threatened to do. "Well," thought he, "it cannot be done in a
minute. I have been dealing the cards, and, contrary to custom, the
dealer shall lead beside; and that soon."
Winny's happy smile was now so continuous and so gratifying to her
father's heart, that if he had not become altogether reconciled to an
increased intimacy with Edward Lennon, he had at all events become a
convert to her dislike to Tom Murdock, and no mistake.
In spite of all his caution, one or two matters had crept out as to
his doings, and had come to old Ned's ears in such a way that no doubt
could remain on his mind of their veracity. He began to give Winny
credit for more sharpness than he had been inclined to do; and it
crossed his mind once that, if Winny was not mistaken about Tom
Murdock's villany, she might not be mistaken either about _anybody
else's worth_. The thought had not individualized itself as yet. In
the meantime young Lennon's quiet and natural manner, his unvarying
attention and respect for the old man himself, and his apparent
carelessness for Winny's private company, grew upon old Ned
insensibly; and it was now almost as a fixed rule that he paid a
Sunday visit after mass at Rathcash, the old man putting his hand upon
his shoulder, and facing him toward the house at the end of the lane,
saying, "Come, Edward Lennon, the murphys will be teemed by the time
we get up, and no one can fault our bacon or our butter."
"_My_ butter, Emon," said Winny on one occasion, at a venture.
Her father looked at her. But there was never another word about it.
All this was anything but pleasing to Tom Murdock, who always sulkily
dogged them at some distance behind.
Now we shall not believe that Emon-a-knock was such a muff, or Winny
Cavana such a prude, as to suppose that no little opportunity was
seized upon for a kind soft word between them _unknownt_. Nor shall we
suppose that Kate Mulvey, who was always of the party, was such a
marplot as to obstruct such a happy casualty, should it occur,
particularly if Phil was to the fore.
Emon's careless, loud laugh along the road, as he escorted Kate to her
own door, gave evidence that his heart was light and that (as Kate
thought, though she did not question him) matters were on the
right road for him. Winny, too, when they met, was so happy, and so
different from what for a while she had been, that Kate, although she
did not question her either, guessed that all was right with her too.
Matters, as they now seemed to progress, and he watched them close,
were daggers to Tom Murdock's heart. He had seen Winny Cavana, on more
than one evening, leave the house and take the turn toward Kate
Mulvey's. On these occasions he had the meanness and want of spirit to
watch her movements; and although he could not satisfy himself that
young Lennon came to meet her, he was not quite satisfied that he did
not.
Winny invariably turned into Kate Mulvey's, and remained for a long
visit. Might not "that hound" be there?--Tom sometimes varied his
epithets--might it not be a place of assignation? This was but the
suspicion of a low, mean mind like Tom Murdock's.
The fact is, since Tom's threat about "winning the trick" he had been
rather idle. His game was not one which could be played out by
correspondence--he was too cunning for that--and the means which he
would be obliged to adopt were not exactly ready at his hand. He saw
that matters were not pressing in another quarter yet, if ever they
should press, and he would "ride a waiting race," and win
unexpectedly. Thus the simile of Tom's thoughts still took their tone
from the race-course, and he would "hold hard" for another bit.
Circumstances, however, soon occurred which made him "push forward
toward the front" if he had any hope "to come in first."
Edward Lennon having finished his "landscape gardening" at Mr. D----s,
and the overseership being held over for the present, had got another
rather long job, on the far part of Ned Cavana's farm, in laying out
and cutting drains, where the land required reclaiming. He had shown
so much taste and intelligence, in both planning and performing, that
old Ned was quite delighted with him, and began to regret "that he had
not known his value as an agricultural laborer long before." There was
one other at least--if not two--who sympathized in that regret. At all
events, there he was now every day up to his hips in dirty red clay,
scooping it up from the bottom of little drains more than three feet
deep, in a long iron scoop with a crooked handle. This job was at the
far end of Ned's farm, and, in coming to his work, Lennon need hardly
come within sight of the house, for the work lay in the direction of
Shanvilla. Emon did not "quit work" until it was late; he was then in
anything but visiting trim, if such a thing were even possible. He,
therefore, saw no more of Winny on account of the job than if he had
been at work on the Giant's Causeway. But a grand object had been
attained, nevertheless--he was working for Ned Cavana, and had given
him more than satisfaction in the performance of the job, and on one
occasion old Ned had called him "Emon-a-wochal," a term of great
familiarity. This was a great change for the better. If young Lennon
had been as well acquainted with racing phraseology as Tom Murdock, he
also would have thought that he would "make a waiting race of it." But
the expression of _his_ thoughts was that he "would bide his time."
The Sundays, however, were still available, and Emon did not lose the
chance. He now because so regular an attendant at Rathcash chapel, and
went up so regularly with old Ned and his daughter after prayers, that
it was no wonder if people began to talk.
"I donna what Tom Murdock says to all this, Bill," said Tim Fahy to a
neighbor, on the road from the chapel.
"The sorra wan of me knows, Tim, but I hear he isn't over-well
plaised."
"Arrah, what id he be plaised at? Is it to see a Shanvilla boy,
without a cross, intherlopin' betune him an' his bachelor?"
"Well, they say he needn't be a bit afeared, Lennon is a very good
workman, and undherstan's dhrainin', an' ould Ned's cute enough
to get a job well done; but he'd no more give his daughter with her
fine fortin' to that chap, than he'd throw her an' it into the
say--b'lieve you me."
"There's some very heavy cloud upon Tom this while back, any way; and
though he keeps it very close, there's people thinks it's what she
refused him."
"The sorra fear iv her, Tim; she has more sinse nor that."
"Well, riddle me this, Bill. What brings that chap here Sunda' afther
Sunda', and what takes him up to ould Ned Cavana's every Sunda' afther
mass? He is a very good-lookin' young fellow, an' knows a sheep's head
from a sow's ear, or Tim Fahy's a fool."
"_Och badhershin_, doesn't he go up to walk home wid Kate Mulvey, for
she's always iv the party?"
"And _badhershin_ yourself, Bill, isn't Phil M'Dermott always to the
fore for Kate?--another intherloper from Shanvilla. I donna what the
sorra the Rathcash boys are about."
Other confabs of a similar nature were carried on by different sets as
they returned from prayers, and saw the Cavanas with their company
turn up the lane toward the house. The young girls of the district,
too, had their chats upon the subject; but they were so voluble, and
some of them so ill-natured, that I forbear to give the reader any
specimen of their remarks. One or two intimate associates of Tom
ventured to quiz him upon the state of affairs. Now none but an
intimate friend, indeed, of Tom's should have ventured, under the
circumstances, to have touched upon so sore a subject, and those who
did, intimate as they were, did not venture to repeat the joke. No, it
was no joke; and that they soon found out. To one friend who had
quizzed him privately he said, "Suspend your judgment, Denis; and if I
don't prove myself more than a match for that half-bred _kiout_, then
condemn me."
But to another, who had quizzed him before some bystanders in rather a
ridiculous point of view, he turned like a bull-terrier, while his
face assumed a scowl of a peculiarly unpleasant character.
"It is no business of yours," he said, "and I advise you to mind your
own affairs, or perhaps I'll make you."
The man drew in his horns, and sneaked off, of course; and from that
moment they all guessed that the business had gone against Tom, and
they left off quizzing.
Tom felt that he had been wrong, and had only helped to betray
himself. His game now was to prevent, if possible, any talk about the
matter, one way or the other, until his plans should be matured, when
he doubted not that success would gain him the approbation of every
one, no matter what the means.
The preface to his plans was, to spread a report that he had gone back
to Armagh to get married to a girl with an immense fortune, and he
endorsed the report by the fact of his leaving home; but whether to
Armagh or not, was never clearly known.
Young Lennon went on with his job, at which old Ned told him "to take
his time, an' do it well. It was not," he said, "like digging a plot,
which had to be dug every year, or maybe twice. When it was wance
finished and covered up, there it was; worse nor the first day, if it
was not done right; so don't hurry it over, Emon-a-wochal. I don't
mind the expense; ground can't be dhrained for nothin', an' it id be a
bad job if we were obliged to be openin' any of the dhrains a second
time, an' maybe not know where the stoppage lay; so take your time,
and don't blame me if you botch it."
"You need not fear, sir," said Lennon. (He always said "sir" as yet.)
"You need not fear; if every drain of them does not run like the
stream from Tubbernaltha, never give me a day's work again."
"As far as you have gone, Emon, I think they are complate; we'll have
forty carts of stones in afore Saturda' night. I hope you have help
enough, boy."
"Plenty, sir, until we begin to cover in."
"Wouldn't you be able for that yourself? or couldn't you bring your
father with you? I'd wish to put whatever I could in your way."
"Thank you, sir, very much. I will do so if I want more help; but for
the lucre of keeping up his wages and mine, I would not recommend you
to lose this fine weather in covering in the drains."
"You are an honest boy, Emon, and I like your way of talkin', as well
as workin'; plaise God we won't see you or your father idle."
Up to this it will be seen that Emon was not idle in any sense of the
word. He was ingratiating himself, but honestly, into the good graces
of old Ned; "if he was not fishing, he was mending his nets;" and the
above conversation will show that he was not a dance at that same.
It happened, upon one or two occasions, that old Ned was with Emon at
leaving off work in the evening, and he asked him to "cum' up to the
house and have a dhrink of beer, or whiskey-and-wather, his choice."
But Emon excused himself, saying he was no fit figure to go into any
decent man's parlor in that trim, and indeed his appearance did not
belie his words; for he was spotted and striped with yellow clay, from
his head and face to his feet, and the clothes he brought to the work
were worth nothing.
"Well, you'll not be always so, Emon, when you're done wid the
scoopin'," said old Ned; and he added, laughing, "The divil a wan o'
me'd know you to be the same boy I seen cumin' out o' mass a Sunda'."
Emon had heard, as everybody else had heard, that Tom Murdock had left
home, and he felt as if an incubus had been lifted off his heart. Not
that he feared Tom in any one way; but he knew that his absence would
be a relief to Winny, and, as such, a relief to himself.
Emon was now as happy as his position and his hopes permitted him to
be; and there can be little doubt but this happiness arose from an
understanding between himself and Winny; but how, when, or where that
understanding had been confirmed, it would be hard to say.
Old Ned's remarks to his daughter respecting young Lennon were nuts
and apples to her. She knew the day would come, and perhaps at no far
distant time, when she must openly avow, not only a preference for
Emon, but declare an absolute determination to cast her lot with his,
and ask her father's blessing upon them. She was aware that this could
not, that it ought not to, be hurried. She hoped--oh, how fervently
she hoped!--that the report of Tom Murdock's marriage might be true:
that of his absence from home she knew to be so. In the meantime it
kept the happy smile for ever on her lips to know that Emon was daily
creeping into the good opinion of her father. Oh! how could Emon, her
own Emon, fail, not only to creep but to rush into the good opinion,
the very heart, of all who knew him? Poor enthusiastic Winny! But she
was right. With the solitary exception of Tom Murdock, there was not a
human being who knew him who did not love Edward Lennon. But where is
the man with Tom Murdock's heart, and in Tom Murdock's place, who
would not have hated him as he did?