Poor Arrah Neil had passed an anxious and uneasy day, for, though the
knowledge that she had a friend so near, ready to aid her in her
escape, had proved no slight consolation, and though hope, of course,
magnified Captain Barecolt's powers, and elevated his qualities far
beyond their real extent, yet suspense is always full of terrors, and
Fear usually treads close upon the steps of Hope. Ezekiel Dry had also
suffered all those blessed results which intemperance is sure to
entail; and having lain in his bed for several hours after the whole
town was up and stirring, with sick stomach and aching head, he rose,
declaring that something he had eaten at dinner had disagreed with
him, and that he must have a small portion of strong waters to promote
digestion. He was as morose, too, through the whole day, as a sick
tiger, and would not stir beyond the doors till after he had dined. He
was angry with the maid, rude to the landlady, assuring her that she
was "a vessel of wrath;" and above all, irritable and even fierce with
Arrah Neil.
Though it is probable that he had no cause of any kind for suspicion,
yet his mind was in that state of sullen discontent from bodily
suffering that gives rise to incessant jealousy. He prowled about the
door of her room; sent for her twice down to the little parlour,
between breakfast and dinner; looked out whenever he heard a door
open; and twice stopped Mrs. White when she was going upstairs, upon
the pretence of asking some question. The last time this occurred, his
inquiry once more was after Mr. Hugh O'Donnell.
"Really, sir, I have not been able to hear," replied Mrs. White; "but
I dare say the governor, Sir John, could tell you."
"That will not do, woman," replied Mr. Dry, pettishly: "I only seek to
hold communion with the godly of the land. How can I tell that Sir
John Hotham is any better than an uncircumcised Philistine? Though he
have taken a part with the righteous in behalf of this poor country,
peradventure it may be but with an eye to the spoil."
"Goodness, sir! think of what you are saying in Hull!" exclaimed Mrs.
White, giving a glance to some of the bystanders: "you may get
yourself into trouble if you speak so of the governor."
"Nay, woman; am I not called to lift up my voice and spare not?"
rejoined Mr. Dry. "Is this a time for showing a respect to persons?
Verily, I will take up a word against them."
"Well, then, I am sure I will not stay to hear it," replied the
landlady; and away she went, leaving Mr. Dry to finish his exhortation
to the maid, the ostler, and two townsmen, if he chose.
Shortly after, however, the dinner of the guest was served up to him,
and gradually, under its influence, he was restored to a more placable
state of mind, having sought the aid of sundry somewhat potent
libations, which he termed supporting the inner man, but which Mrs.
White denominated taking "a hair of the dog that had bit him."
As soon as he had satisfied both hunger and thirst, Mr. Dry took Arrah
Neil back to her chamber again, and having locked the door, and sought
his hat and cloak in his own room, he walked slowly down the stairs,
resolved to pursue his perquisitions for Mr. Hugh O'Donnell in person;
but, before he reached the door of the "Swan," his tranquillity was
much overset by the entrance of a bold, swaggering, joyous-looking
person, whose very cheerfulness of face was offensive in the sight of
the sour and sober Mr. Dry. He looked at him, then, with a glance of
amazement and reprobation, and then, while our good friend Diggory
Falgate brushed past, raised his eyes towards heaven, as if inquiring
whether such things as a blithe heart and cheerful countenance could
be tolerated on earth.
Falgate immediately caught the look, and, as it unfortunately happened
for Mr. Dry, recollected in him a personage whom he had seen in no
very respectable plight in the streets of Hull the night before. He
instantly paused, then, and bursting into a laugh, began to sing
the well-known old words--older than they are generally supposed to
be--
My wife Joan's a Presbyterian;
She won't swear, but she will lie;
I to the ale-home, she to the tavern;
She'll get drunk as well as I.
and, ending with another laugh, he walked on to Mrs. White's little
room.
The wrath of Mr. Dry, of Longsoaken, was overpowering; but it could
not find vent in words, and after once more lifting up his eyes, and
his hands also, he hurried out of the house, resolved that, if he
staid beyond the following day in Hull, he would quit an inn where
such godless people were permitted to pass the door.
We will not pursue him on his track through the town, but return to
poor Arrah Neil, whose day, as we have said, had passed in anxiety and
pain; and who now sat with her hand beating time upon the table to
some fancied tune, as the sun sank lower and lower, and the hues of
evening began to spread over the sky.
As she thus sat, she saw Mr. Dry walk away from the door, cross over
the street, and enter a house opposite. He turned before he went in,
and looked up at the windows of the "Swan," but Arrah Neil was in one
of those meditative moods, when the spirit seems to be separate from
the body, or scarcely conscious of a connection between the two. She
saw the man she so much hated and despised gaze up to where she was
sitting; but in thinking of him and his baseness, of the power he had
obtained over her, of his perseverance in maintaining that power, of
how she could escape from him, and whither he could now be going--she
seemed to forget altogether that it was upon her his eyes were turned,
and, without moving her place, she remained watching him as if he were
a mere piece of mechanism, whose springs and whose wheels were worthy
of observation, but incapable of observation in return.
It was the best course she could have pursued, though she did so
unconsciously; for, after Mr. Dry had been a minute or two in the
house which he entered, he came out again, and seeing her still
sitting there immoveable, with her eyes fixed upon the same spot, he
muttered, "The girl is a fool, that's clear!" and went on about his
business.
Other eyes had been watching him as well as those of Arrah Neil, and
before he had actually quitted the street the step of Mrs. White was
heard upon the stairs. But ere the good landlady could reach the top,
the voice of Nancy from below, exclaimed, "Here's a gentleman, ma'am,
wants to speak to you!"
Arrah waited for a moment or two, in the hope that the new guest would
depart, and that the hostess would pay her her accustomed visit; for,
in those moments of anxious expectation and suspense, she felt the
presence of any sympathising human creature a benefit and a relief.
But after a while, she turned to gaze from the window again, and
murmured--for she did not sing--some lines of an old song which she
had learned in her infancy. As she thus sat, she heard another step
upon the stairs, slower and more heavy than that of the landlady, and
without giving it a second thought, she returned to sport with her own
fancies, when a key was put into the lock and the door opened.
Arrah Neil started and turned round, and not a little was her surprise
to see a tall, powerful, elderly man, with white hair, and deep blue
eyes, the lashes of which, as well as the eyebrows, were still black,
enter her chamber, fasten the door behind him, and advance towards
her. She was a little frightened, and would have been more so, but
there was a kindly and gentle air in the visiter's countenance which
was not calculated to produce alarm; and as he came nearer, he said,
"I beg your pardon, young lady, but I much wished to see you. I have
not seen you for many a long year, not since you were quite a little
thing."
"Then you knew me in my childhood, sir!" exclaimed Arrah, eagerly,
"and----"
"You may well say that, lady," replied Hugh O'Donnell, before she
could proceed. "These arms were the first that received you when you
set foot upon this shore. Oh! a sorrowful landing it was, and
sorrowful was the fate that followed, and sorrowful were the days that
went before; and there has been little but sorrow since. But good luck
to-morrow, it may bring something brighter, and the sky won't be
overcast for ever, that's impossible."
"Then you are the Mr. O'Donnell of whom Mrs. White has told me." said
Arrah. "Oh, sir! I beseech you, tell me more about myself and my
kindred. Whosoever's child I am, let me know it. If a peasant's, say
so without fear. I would rather cast away the vain but bright dreams
that have haunted me so long, and fix my best affections on the memory
of some good plain people, than have this wild doubt and uncertainty
any longer. Tell me--tell me anything, if it be not disgraceful to the
living or the dead."
"Disgraceful!" cried Hugh O'Donnell; "I should like to hear any man
say that! No, no; there's nothing disgraceful, my darling; but I
cannot and I must not tell you all that I could wish, young lady--not
just at present, that is to say. By-and-by you will hear all."
"And in the mean time what misfortunes may befal me!" said Arrah Neil,
in an earnest tone; "what misfortunes have already befallen me, which
perhaps might have been averted!"
"Why, that is true, too," replied O'Donnell, after a moment's thought;
"and yet it could not be helped. What to do now I cannot rightly tell;
for, from what the good woman below says, old Neil, when he was dying,
wished you to know all."
"I am sure he did," answered the poor girl; "but they had swept the
cottage of everything, and I much fear that the papers he wished me to
have fell into the hands of this old man."
"Ay, you must be got out of his clutches; that's the first thing,"
said O'Donnell. "On my life! if there were anything like law in the
land, we would make him prove before the justices what right he has to
meddle with you. His ward indeed! But, alas! young lady, there is
neither law nor justice left in England, and the simple word of that
crop-eared knave would weigh down a host of what they call malignants.
The only way to follow is, for you to get away secretly, and put
yourself under the care of those who have already been kind to you.
You are very willing to go back to Lord Walton and his sister, I
suppose?"
"Oh, that I am!" exclaimed Arrah Neil, with the warm colour mounting
in her fair cheek; but the next moment she cast her eyes thoughtfully
down, and murmured, "And yet, and yet----"
"Yet what, young lady?" asked O'Donnell, seeing that she did not
conclude the sentence.
"Nothing," replied Arrah Neil: "'tis but a vain regret. When I was in
poverty and beggary they were generous and kind to me; and at times
when I schooled myself to think that such must have been my original
situation, notwithstanding the idle dreams of brighter days that came
back to trouble me, I used to fancy that I could be well content to be
their lowest servant, so that I might follow and be with them always.
But since I came hither, and the memories of the past grew clear, and
the mistress of this house confirmed them, I have been thinking that,
perhaps, before I returned to those two kind and noble friends, I
might learn all my own fate and history, and be able to tell them
that, when they condescended to notice and protect a being so lowly
and humble as I was when they found me, they were unknowingly showing
a kindness to one not so far inferior in blood to themselves as they
imagined."
"And, by the Lord, you shall be able to tell them so!" replied
O'Donnell; "for, proud as they may be, I can tell them----"
"Oh, no!" said Arrah, interrupting him: "they are not proud; neither
was it from any pride that I wished to tell them that poor Arrah Neil
was not the lowly being they had thought; for they were so gentle and
so kind, that dependence on them was sweet; but I wished them to
understand how it was and why that I have been so strange and wild at
times--so thoughtful. And yet there may have been pride," she added,
after a moment's pause, fixing her eyes upon the ground, and speaking
as if to herself. "I would not have him think me so low, so very low.
But you said I should be able to tell them. Speak, speak! let me hear
what it is."
"Well, then," replied Hugh O'Donnell, "you may tell them there is----"
But ere he could go on, Mrs. White ran into the room, exclaiming, "He
is coming! he is coming! Nancy sees him at the end of the street.
Quick! quick! Master O'Donnell!"
"Oh! speak, speak!" cried Arrah.
"I will see you again, dear lady," cried O'Donnell, quickly; "I will
come with the horses myself. But in the meantime this money belongs to
you; it may be needful; it may be serviceable; do not let him see it;"
and, laying a small leathern purse on the table, he hurried towards
the door. Before he quitted the room, however, he turned, and seeing
the poor girl's beautiful eyes filled with tears, he added, "Do not be
afraid; I will see you again before this time to-morrow."
The landlady of the "Swan" and her visiter hurried down to the little
parlour, but, as so often happens when people are taken by surprise,
they made more haste than was necessary; for, whether Mr. Dry of
Longsoaken met with something to detain him, or whether he walked
slowly as he came down the street, he did not make his appearance on
the steps leading up to the inn for several minutes after they had
descended.
"I will speak with this man, Mistress White," said O'Donnel, after a
moment's thought. "Tell him that I have come to see him, that you sent
for me by some one who knew where to find me."
"Are you sure that is a good plan?" asked the landlady. "We want time
to get the young lady away."
"Never fear! never fear!" replied her companion. "I will keep him in
play for a week, if need be."
"Well, well," said Mrs. White; and while O'Donnell took a seat and
leaned his cheek upon his arm as if waiting patiently for some one's
coming, the good landlady bustled about, making a noise amongst
bottles and measures with as unconcerned an air as she could assume.
The next minute Mr. Dry walked solemnly up the four steps which led
from the street to a little flat landing-place of stone, encircled
with an iron railing, which lay without the door; and as soon as he
thus became apparent, Mrs. White ran out of her parlour, exclaiming,
"Sir, Sir! the gentleman you wished to see is come. The man who brings
the eggs called a few minutes ago, and as he knew where to find him, I
bade him tell Mr. O'Donnell to come and see you."
"That was right! that was right!" cried Mr. Dry, his small red eyes
sparkling with satisfaction. "Where is he, Mrs. White?"
"Here, sir, in the bar," answered the landlady; and with a slow and
solemn step, calculating how he was to proceed, and smoothing his face
down to his usual gravity, Mr. Dry walked deliberately into the little
room where Hugh O'Donnell was seated.
"Here is Master Dry, sir," said the hostess, opening the door for him,
but Mr. Dry waved his hand pompously for silence, and then considered
Mr. O'Donnell attentively.
"This good lady tells me you wish to speak with me, sir," said
O'Donnell, after giving the new-comer quite sufficient time to inspect
his countenance; "pray what may be your business with me?"
"It is of a private nature, Master O'Donnell," replied Mr. Dry, "and
may perhaps be better explained at your own house than here, if you
will tell me where that is."
O'Donnell smiled and shook his head. "I am not fond of private
business at my own house, sir," he answered drily. "These are
suspicious times; people will be for calling me a malignant or
something of that kind. I am a plain man, sir; an honest, open
merchant, and not fond of secrets. If you have anything to say, I can
hear it here."
"Well, then, come into this neighbouring room, my good friend,"
replied Dry; "to that you can have no objection; and as to being
charged with malignancy, methinks the conversation of Ezekiel Dry of
Longsoaken would never bring such an accusation upon any man's head."
"I beg your pardon, sir; I did not know you," replied O'Donnell,
following towards the little room where Mr. Dry had dined after his
first arrival. "I have heard of you from the people of Bishop's
Merton, whom I occasionally supply with dry beef and neats' tongues
from Hamburgh."
"Pray be seated, Master O'Donnell," said Mr. Dry closing the door
carefully after they had entered; and then, taking a chair opposite to
his companion, he went on to speak as follows, interrupting his
discourse with sundry hems and haws, which gave him time both to think
of what he was next to say, and to examine the countenance of
O'Donnell as he proceeded.
"You must know, Mr. O'Donnell," he said, "that, after the death of a
certain old man--a clear and undoubted malignant--named Sergeant
Neil--hum!--with whom I think you have had a good deal to do--ha!"
"Very little, sir," replied O'Donnell, as he paused: "I had to pay him
some money every year sent to me by my correspondents beyond sea. I
should think the man was somewhat of a malignant from some of his
letters on the receipt."
"Verily was he, and a most ferocious one too," replied Mr. Dry; "but
after the death of this person, I, with the consent and appointment of
the authorities--hum!--took upon me the care and protection of the
girl supposed to be his grand-daughter--hum!--his grand-daughter, as
she was called--I say, Master O'Donnell--ha!"
"Very kind of you indeed, sir," answered O'Donnell--"especially as
old Neil could not die rich."
"As poor as a rat," replied Mr. Dry, emphatically. "Pray what was it
you paid him per annum, Master O'Donnell?"
"About fifty pounds a-year, as far as I recollect," said O'Donnell;
"but I cannot tell till I look in my books."
"That was but a small sum," rejoined Dry, "for taking care of this
girl, when her family are so wealthy and the estates so great--ha!"
"Are they, sir?" asked O'Donnell in an indifferent tone, "Pray,
whereabouts do they lie?"
"Come, come, Master O'Donnell," said Mr. Dry, with a significant nod;
"you know more than you pretend to know--hum! We have found letters
and papers--hum!--which show that you have full information--ha!--and
it is necessary that you should speak openly with me--hum! Do you
understand me?--ha!"
"Oh! I understand quite well, sir," replied O'Donnell, not in the
least discomposed: "my letters were all upon business. I sent the
money--I announced the sending--I asked for my receipts; and, whenever
there was a word or two sent over for us to forward, such as, 'All is
well,' 'Things going on better,' or anything of that sort, I wrote
them down just as I received them, without troubling my head about
what they referred to."
Mr. Dry was somewhat puzzled how to proceed--whether to take the high
and domineering tone that he had often found very successful at
Bishop's Merton, or to cajole and bribe, as he had had occasion to do
at other times; but, after a little reflection, he determined that the
latter would be the best course at first, as he could always have
recourse to the former, which, if employed too soon and without due
caution, might lead to more publicity than was at all desirable.
"Now listen to me, Master O'Donnell," he said at length: "you are a
wise man and prudent, not to confide your secrets to strangers, but it
is of vast importance that the true rank, station, fortune, family,
and connections of this young woman should be clearly ascertained; and
though, perhaps, you may not like to say at once, 'I know this,' or 'I
know that,' yet I ask you, can you not secretly and quietly, get me
information upon all these matters, if I make it worth your while to
take the trouble--well worth your while--very well worth your while?"
"That is another matter," answered O'Donnell; "quite another matter,
sir; but the question is, what would make it worth my while? I'm a
merchant, sir; and we must make it a matter of trade."
Mr. Dry pondered; but, before he could answer, Mr. O'Donnell added,
"Come, Master Dry; let me hear distinctly what it is you want to know,
and then I can better judge how much it is worth."
"That I will tell you immediately," rejoined Mr. Dry, feeling in his
pocket; and at length drawing forth the bundle of papers which Captain
Barecolt had examined the night before, he began to read. "'Habakkuk
ii. 5. Yea, also, because he transgresseth by wine'--no, that is not
it; and, besides, it was not wine but strong waters. Ah! here it
is;" and he proceeded to address to his companion the series of
questions which the worthy captain above-named had warned Mr.
O'Donnell would be propounded to him.
"A goodly list!" said the Irishman, in a tone that Mr. Dry did not
think very promising; but he went on immediately to add: "Well, I
think all this information I could obtain if it were made worth my
while, and a great deal more too; but you see, Mr. Dry, this is purely
a mercantile transaction: you come to me for information as for
goods."
"Certainly, certainly," replied he of Longsoaken; "It is all a matter
of trade."
"Well, then," continued O'Donnell, "I must know to what market you
intend to take the goods."
"I do not understand," said Mr. Dry.
"I'll I'll explain it to you in a moment," replied the other; "I mean,
what is your object? If it should be shown that the girl is different
from what she seems--if fair and probable prospects of money and such
good things should spring up--what do you intend to do with her?"
"That is a question I have not yet considered with due deliberation
and counsel," replied Mr. Dry.
"But it is one well worth consideration," answered his companion. "In
a word, Master Dry, do you intend to put the girl and her property
under the protection, as it is called, of the law, or to give her
another protector--your son, or yourself perhaps?"
"What if I say to put her under the protection of the law?"
"Then I say you're a great goose for your pains," replied O'Donnell,
rising; "and I'm afraid we can't deal. The law is a bad paymaster, and
does not make it worth men's while to do it service, or take trouble
for it, and this would cost me a great deal of pains and work. Now, if
you had made up your mind to marry her quietly and secretly to your
son, or any near relation, it would be a different affair, and you
would not mind giving a good per-centage."
"I have no son--I have no relations," replied Dry, somewhat pettishly;
"but I shall not mind giving a good per-centage notwithstanding."
"Then of course you intend to marry her yourself," said O'Donnell.
"Well, that being the case, I will go home and consider between this
and this hour to-morrow what I will take. I must make my calculations,
for I am a man of my word, and like to know exactly what a thing is
worth before I put a price upon it; but by this time to-morrow I will
tell you; so good-morning, Mr. Dry: it is getting late."
"But where shall I find you? where shall I find you?" asked Mr. Dry,
as the other moved towards the door.
"Oh, Mrs. White will send a boy with you," replied O'Donnell; "she
knows where it is now: good afternoon;" and issuing forth, he spoke a
word or two to the landlady, and then quitted the house, murmuring,
"The old snake! I know them, those canting vipers--I know them!"