The O'Ruddy: A Romance

  CHAPTER XI

  I wasted no time in the vicinity of the inn. I decided that aninterval spent in some remote place would be consistent with thebehaviour of a gentleman.

  But the agitations of the day were not yet closed for me. Suddenly Icame upon a small, slow-moving, and solemn company of men, who carriedamong them some kind of a pallet, and on this pallet was the body ofForister. I gazed upon his ghastly face; I saw the large bloodblotches on his shirt; as they drew nearer I saw him roll his eyes andheard him groan. Some of the men recognized me, and I saw black looksand straight-pointing fingers. At the rear walked Lord Strepp withForister's sword under his arm. I turned away with a new impression ofthe pastime of duelling. Forister's pallor, the show of bloody cloth,his groan, the dark stares of men, made me see my victory in adifferent way, and I even wondered if it had been absolutely necessaryto work this mischief upon a fellow-being.

  I spent most of the day down among the low taverns of the sailors,striving to interest myself in a thousand new sights brought by theships from foreign parts.

  But ever my mind returned to Lady Mary, and to my misfortune in beingpursued around chairs and tables by my angel's mother. I had alsomanaged to have a bitter quarrel with the noble father of this lovelycreature. It was hardly possible that I could be joyous over myprospects.

  At noon I returned to the inn, approaching with some display ofcaution. As I neared it, a carriage followed by some horsemen whirledspeedily from the door. I knew at once that Lady Mary had been takenfrom me. She was gone with her father and mother back to London. Irecognized Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale among the horsemen.

  I walked through the inn to the garden, and looked at the parrot. Mysenses were all numb. I stared at the bird as it rolled its wicked eyeat me.

  "Pretty lady! Pretty lady!" it called in coarse mockery.

  "Plague the bird!" I muttered, as I turned upon my heel and enteredthe inn.

  "My bill," said I. "A horse for Bath!" said I.

  Again I rode forth on a quest. The first had been after my papers. Thesecond was after my love. The second was the hopeless one, and,overcome by melancholy, I did not even spur my horse swiftly on mymission. There was upon me the deep-rooted sadness which balances themirth of my people,--the Celtic aptitude for discouragement; and eventhe keening of old women in the red glow of the peat fire could neverhave deepened my mood.

  And if I should succeed in reaching London, what then? Would the wildsavage from the rocky shore of Ireland be a pleasing sight to my LadyMary when once more amid the glamour and whirl of the fashionabletown? Besides, I could no longer travel on the guineas of Jem Bottles.He had engaged himself and his purse in my service because I had toldhim of a fortune involved in the regaining of certain papers. I hadregained those papers, and then coolly placed them as a gift in acertain lovely white hand. I had had no more thought of Jem Bottlesand his five guineas than if I had never seen them. But this was noexcuse for a gentleman. When I was arrived at the rendezvous I mustimmediately confess to Jem Bottles, the highwayman, that I had wrongedhim. I did not expect him to demand satisfaction, but I thought hemight shoot me in the back as I was riding away.

  But Jem was not at the appointed place under the tree. Not puzzled atthis behaviour, I rode on. I saw I could not expect the man to stayfor ever under a tree while I was away in Bristol fighting a duel andmaking eyes at a lady. Still, I had heard that it was always done.

  At the inn where Paddy holed Forister, I did not dismount, although ahostler ran out busily. "No," said I. "I ride on." I looked at theman. Small, sharp-eyed, weazened, he was as likely a rascal of ahostler as ever helped a highwayman to know a filled purse from a manwho was riding to make arrangements with his creditors.

  "Do you remember me?" said I.

  "No, sir," he said with great promptitude.

  "Very good," said I. "I knew you did. Now I want to know if Master JemBottles has passed this way to-day. A shilling for the truth and athrashing for a lie."

  The man came close to my stirrup. "Master," he said, "I know you to bea friend of him. Well, in day-time he don't ride past our door. Therebe lanes. And so he ain't passed here, and that's the truth."

  I flung him a shilling. "Now," I said, "what of the red giant?"

  The man opened his little eyes in surprise. "He took horse with yougentlemen and rode on to Bristol, or I don't know."

  "Very good; now I see two very fine horses champing in the yard. Andwho owns them?"

  If I had expected to catch him in treachery I was wrong.

  "Them?" said he, jerking his thumb. He still kept his voice lowered."They belong to two gentlemen who rode out some hours agone along withsome great man's carriage. The officer said some pin-pricks he hadgotten in a duel had stiffened him, and made the saddle ill of easewith him, and the young lord said that he would stay behind as acompanion. They be up in the Colonel's chamber, drinking vastly. Butmind your life, sir, if you would halt them on the road. They be menof great spirit. This inn seldom sees such drinkers."

  And so Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale were resting at this inn whilethe carriage of the Earl had gone on toward Bath? I had a mind todismount and join the two in their roystering, but my eyes turnedwistfully toward Bath.

  As I rode away I began to wonder what had become of Jem Bottles andPaddy. Here was a fine pair to be abroad in the land. Here were twojewels to be rampaging across the country. Separately, they werevillains enough, but together they would overturn England and getthemselves hung for it on twin gibbets. I tried to imagine theparticular roguery to which they would first give their attention.

  But then all thought of the rascals faded from me as my mind receiveda vision of Lady Mary's fair face, her figure, her foot. It would notbe me to be thinking of two such thieves when I could be dreaming ofLady Mary with her soft voice and the clear depth of her eyes. Myhorse seemed to have a sympathy with my feeling and he leaped bravelyalong the road. The Celtic melancholy of the first part of the journeyhad blown away like a sea-mist. I sped on gallantly toward Bath andLady Mary.

  But almost at the end of the day, when I was within a few miles ofBath, my horse suddenly pitched forward onto his knees and nose. Therewas a flying spray of muddy water. I was flung out of the saddle, butI fell without any serious hurt whatever. We had been ambushed by somekind of deep-sided puddle. My poor horse scrambled out and stood withlowered head, heaving and trembling. His soft nose had been cutbetween his teeth and the far edge of the puddle. I led him forward,watching his legs. He was lamed. I looked in wrath and despair back atthe puddle, which was as plain as a golden guinea on a platter. I donot see how I could have blundered into it, for the daylight was stillclear and strong. I had been gazing like a fool in the direction ofBath. And my Celtic melancholy swept down upon me again, and even myfather's bier appeared before me with the pale candle-flames swayingin the gusty room, and now indeed my ears heard the loud wailing keenof the old women.

  "Rubbish," said I suddenly and aloud, "and is it one of the bestswordsmen in England that is to be beaten by a lame horse?" My spiritrevived. I resolved to leave my horse in the care of the people ofthe nearest house and proceed at once on foot to Bath. The people ofthe inn could be sent out after the poor animal. Wheeling my eyes, Isaw a house not more than two fields away, with honest hospitablesmoke curling from the chimneys. I led my beast through a hole in thehedge, and I slowly made my way toward it.

  Now it happened that my way led me near a haycock, and as I nearedthis haycock I heard voices from the other side of it. I hastenedforward, thinking to find some yokels. But as I drew very close Isuddenly halted and silently listened to the voices on the other side.

  "Sure, I can read," Paddy was saying. "And why wouldn't I be able? Ifwe couldn't read in Ireland, we would be after being cheated in ourrents, but we never pay them any how, so that's no matter. I would behaving you to know we are a highly educated people. And perhaps youwould be reading it yourself, my man?"

  "No," said Jem Bottles, "I be not a great
scholar and it has a look ofamazing hardness. And I misdoubt me," he added in a morose and enviousvoice, "that your head be too full of learning."

  "Learning!" cried Paddy. "Why wouldn't I be learned, since my unclewas a sexton and had to know one grave from another by looking at thestones so as never to mix up the people? Learning! says you? Andwasn't there a convent at Ballygowagglycuddi, and wasn'tBallygowagglycuddi only ten miles from my father's house, and haven'tI seen it many a time?"

  "Aye, well, good Master Paddy," replied Jem Bottles, oppressed andsullen, but still in a voice ironic from suspicion, "I never doubt mebut what you are a regular clerk for deep learning, but you have notyet read a line from the paper, and I have been waiting thishalf-hour."

  "And how could I be reading?" cried Paddy in tones of indignation."How could I be reading with you there croaking of this and that andspeaking hard of my learning? Bad cess to the paper, I will be afterreading it to myself if you are never to stop your clatter, JemBottles."

  "I be still as a dead rat," exclaimed the astonished highwayman.

  "Well, then," said Paddy. "Listen hard, and you will hear suchlearning as would be making your eyes jump from your head. And 'tisnot me either that cares to show my learning before people who areunable to tell a mile-post from a church-tower."

  "I be awaiting," said Jem Bottles with a new meekness apparently bornof respect for Paddy's eloquence.

  "Well, then," said Paddy, pained at these interruptions. "Listen well,and maybe you will gain some learning which may serve you all yourlife in reading chalk-marks in taprooms; for I see that they have thatcustom in this country, and 'tis very bad for hard-drinking men whohave no learning."

  "If you would read from the paper--" began Jem Bottles.

  "Now, will you be still?" cried Paddy in vast exasperation.

  But here Jem Bottles spoke with angry resolution. "Come, now! Read!'Tis not me that talks too much, and the day wanes."

  "Well, well, I would not be hurried, and that's the truth," said Paddysoothingly. "Listen now." I heard a rustling of paper. "Ahem!" saidPaddy, "Ahem! Are ye listening, Jem Bottles?"

  "I be," replied the highwayman.

  "Ahem!" said Paddy. "Ahem! Are ye listening, Jem Bottles?"

  "I be," replied the highwayman.

  "Then here's for it," said Paddy in a formidable voice. There wasanother rustling of paper. Then to my surprise I heard Paddy intone,without punctuation, the following words:

  "Dear Sister Mary I am asking the good father to write this because my hand is lame from milking the cows although we only have one and we sold her in the autumn the four shillings you owe on the pig we would like if convenient to pay now owing to the landlord may the plague take him how did your Mickey find the fishing when you see Peggy tell her--"

  Here Jem Bottles's voice arose in tones of incredulity.

  "And these be the papers of the great Earl!" he cried.

  Then the truth flashed across my vision like the lightning. My twomadmen had robbed the carriage of the Earl of Westport, and had taken,among other things, the Earl's papers--my papers--Lady Mary's papers.I strode around the haycock.

  "Wretches!" I shouted. "Miserable wretches!"

  For a time they were speechless. Paddy found his tongue first.

  "Aye, 'tis him! 'Tis nothing but little black men and papers with him,and when we get them for him he calls us out of our names in a foreigntongue. 'Tis no service for a bright man," he concluded mournfully.

  "Give me the papers," said I.

  Paddy obediently handed them. I knew them. They were my papers--LadyMary's papers.

  "And now," said I, eyeing the pair, "what mischief have you two beencompassing?"

  Paddy only mumbled sulkily. It was something on the difficulties ofsatisfying me on the subjects of little black men and papers. JemBottles was also sulky, but he grumbled out the beginning of anexplanation.

  "Well, master, I bided under the tree till him here came, and then wetogether bided. And at last we thought, with the time so heavy, wemight better work to handle a purse or two. Thinking," he saiddelicately, "our gentleman might have need of a little gold. Well, andas we were riding, a good lad from the--your worship knowswhere--tells us the Earl's carriage is halting there for a time, butwill go on later without its escort of two gentlemen; only withservants. And, thinking to do our gentleman a good deed, I broughtthem to stand on the highway, and then he--"

  "And then I," broke in Paddy proudly, "walks up to the carriage-doorlooking like a king's cruiser, and says I, 'Pray excuse the manners ofa self-opinionated man, but I consider your purses would look betterin my pocket.' And then there was a great trouble. An old owl of awoman screeched, and was for killing me with a bottle which she hadbeen holding against her nose. But she never dared. And with that anold sick man lifted himself from hundreds of cushions and says he,'What do you want? You can't have them,' says he, and he keepsclasping his breast. 'First of all,' says I, 'I want what you havethere. What I want else I'll tell you at my leisure.' And he was allfor mouthing and fuming, but he was that scared he gave me thesepapers--bad luck to them." Paddy cast an evil eye upon the papers inmy hand.

  "And then?" said I.

  "The driver he tried for to whip up," interpolated Jem Bottles. "Hewas a game one, but the others were like wet cats."

  "And says I," continued Paddy, "'now we will have the gold, if itplease you.' And out it came. 'I bid ye a good journey,' says I, and Ithought it was over, and how easy it was highwaying, and I liked itwell, until the lady on the front seat opens her hood and shows me aprettier face than we have in all Ireland. She clasps two white hands.'Oh, please Mister Highwayman, my father's papers--' And with that Ibacks away. 'Let them go,' says I to Jem Bottles, and sick I was ofit, and I would be buying masses to-night if I might find a Christianchurch. The poor lady!"

  I was no longer angry with Paddy.

  "Aye," said Jem Bottles, "the poor lady was that forlorn!"

  I was no longer angry with Jem Bottles.

  But I now had to do a deal of thinking. It was plain that the paperswere of supreme importance to the Earl. Although I had given them toLady Mary, they had returned to me. It was fate. My father had taughtme to respect these papers, but I now saw them as a sign in the sky.

  However, it was hard to decide what to do. I had given the papers toLady Mary, and they had fled back to me swifter than cormorants.Perhaps it was willed that I should keep them. And then there would betears in the eyes of Lady Mary, who suffered through the suffering ofher father. No; come good, come bad for me, for Jem Bottles, forPaddy, I would stake our fortunes on the act of returning the papersto Lady Mary.

  It is the way of Irishmen. We are all of us true philanthropists. Thatis why we have nothing, although in other countries I have seenphilanthropists who had a great deal. My own interest in the papers Istaked, mentally, with a glad mind; the minor interests of Jem Bottlesand Paddy I staked, mentally, without thinking of them at all. Butsurely it would be a tribute to fate to give anything to Lady Mary.

  I resolved on a course of action. When I aroused to look at mycompanions I found them seated face to face on the ground like playersof draughts. Between them was spread a handkerchief, and on thathandkerchief was a heap of guineas. Jem Bottles was saying, "Here bemy fingers five times over again." He separated a smaller heap. "Herebe my fingers five times over again." He separated another littlestack. "And here be my fingers five times over again and two more yet.Now can ye understand?"

  "By dad," said Paddy admiringly, "you have the learning this time,Master Bottles. My uncle the sexton could not have done it better."

  "What is all this?" said I.

  They both looked at me deprecatingly. "'Tis, your honour," beganPaddy; "'tis only some little small sum--nothing to be talkedof--belonging to the old sick man in the carriage."

  "Paddy and Jem Bottles," said I, "I forgive you the taking of thepapers. Ye are good men and true. Now we will do great deeds."

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