CHAPTER NINETEEN.
Evening approached, and Nora and her cousin sat in the tower chamberoverlooking the ocean. They neither of them felt disposed to go tosleep. The night was calm and lovely, the atmosphere unclouded. Thestars shone forth brightly, and the light crescent moon was reflected inthe waters below. The reef of rocks on the other side of the bay couldbe distinguished, and the lofty headlands beyond it stood out in boldrelief against the sky, while to their extreme right they could see thewhole sweep of the bay and the lofty downs above it. It is notsurprising that they should have been unwilling to tear themselves awayfrom such a scene. It calmed their agitated feelings, for Nora couldnot conceal from herself that one of the kindest of fathers was about tobe taken from her, while Lady Sophy, almost friendless as she was, feltthat she was about to lose her best protector. She could, it was true,live on with her cousin Nora, and watch over her, as she had ever done,like an elder sister over one far younger than herself. Already, LadySophy's early beauty had completely departed. There was the sameoutline of feature, and the same elegant figure, but her countenancewore that sad expression (too often to be seen marking the features ofthe once young and lovely) of disappointed affection, of blighted hopes.Thus they sat on, hour after hour. A dark shadow passed across themoon, and threw a gloom over the hitherto bright landscape. Suddenlythey were startled by a loud, wild shriek. It seemed to come from faraway across the ocean. Now it swelled into a high note of wailing; nowit sank into a mournful tone of grief. Again and again that strangesound struck their ears.
"The banshee!" exclaimed Nora, placing her hand on Sophy's shoulder withalarm. "Surely I have always believed that it was a mere superstitionof the ignorant peasantry--a phantom of the imagination; but here is adreadful reality. Yes, it surely must be the banshee, and what does itforebode? Sophy, you know too well, and so do I. Perhaps it is sent inmercy, to warn and prepare us for that dreadful event. But ought we notto have been prepared already? The last words my dear father spoke tome were sufficient to make me feel he was aware of the great changeabout to take place. Let us hasten to him. Perhaps even now his spiritis departing, and I would be at his side at that awful moment."
"Stay, Nora," said Sophy; "I do not believe in the banshee, or any otherbeing of the sort. I see no figure, and even did I, I should not beconvinced that it was a being of another world. I know that manybelieve such things exist. Some think they are sent in kindness;others, that they are rather evil spirits permitted to disturb theparting hours of the dying; but that, at all events, I am sure is notthe case. Let us watch a short time longer. Depend upon it, we aredeceived in some way."
"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Nora, pointing towards the nearest part of thebeach which was visible. "See that phantom figure moving across thesands! Surely that must be the banshee! What else?"
"No, dear Nora, calm yourself," answered Sophy. "Do not you recognisethe figure of poor mad Kathleen? She must have uttered those cries asshe passed under the castle walls. She must have come to ask after theEarl, and, as bad news flies fast, she has probably been told he issinking rapidly. So, as she has received many a kindness from thefamily, she is giving vent to her grief in those wild, unearthly screamsand cries."
"You are right, Sophy," answered Nora, "but, for the moment, I could nothelp believing in the existence of the wild phantom we have read of andheard so often about in our younger days from the surrounding cottagers.Yes, I see it is poor Kathleen. I trust my poor father has not heardit, for, in his weak state, it might have a bad effect upon his nerves.Yet he certainly does not believe in the existence of the banshee."
The poor girls had not long to watch before they were again summoned,and this time it was to stand by the dying bed of the Earl. Holding thehand of his daughter, which he gently pressed, he breathed his last,with scarcely a sigh, and evidently without any pain or suffering. MrJamieson, who had been summoned, stood by him. "He rests in peace," hesaid; "he trusted in One all-powerful to save, though he made but littleprofession of his faith."
Poor Nora was led from the death-bed of her father to her own room, butit was long before she could find vent for her grief in tears. Hercousin Sophy had long ceased to weep. Those who have suffered greatunhappiness, whose fondest affections have been blighted, as hers hadbeen, often find it impossible again to gain relief by weeping. Suchwas her case. She mourned the loss of the Earl, as much as did hercousin, but it was in a different way. Not a tear dropped from her eye.She found no vent for all she felt. Nora, on the contrary, exhibitedher grief far more violently, and thus, perhaps, the sooner regainedtranquillity.
Mr Finlayson, as he had promised the Earl, acted the part of a kindfather to her. He treated her as a petted child, spoke words of comfortto her on all occasions, and tried by every means to raise her spirits.Often he succeeded in doing so, and she could not help expressing a wishthat he could remain at the castle, instead of returning to Dublin.
"Well, well," he answered, "I will do my best to please you, my dearyoung lady. I have a son and grandson well able to attend to mybusiness, and as long as I am not required at home, you shall have thebenefit of my company."
In those days the burial of even a peasant was attended with muchparade, and any family would have been thought mean unless the body oftheir deceased relative was properly waked. Although the corpse of aProtestant Earl had not to go through this ceremony, yet it would havebeen looked upon as a great disgrace to the family had not all theneighbours been invited from far and near to attend the funeral, and besumptuously feasted. Had Nora been consulted she would gladly haveavoided anything of the sort. Mr Finlayson declared, however, that itwas not the day to break through their old customs, and, for the creditof the family, they must issue the usual invitations. Nora and Sophy,however, begged that they might be allowed to keep their rooms, althoughNora had been anxious to attend her father to the grave. This it wasarranged she should do in a private carriage. When the day arrived,however, from far and near came squires and squireens, and farmers andpeasants, in all sorts of conveyances, the larger number being onhorseback, while several friends of the deceased nobleman arrived from adistance to pay their last respects to his remains.
It was a sad sight, even to Nora; but she resolved to go through withwhat she thought was required of her, and then she hoped to be allowedto remain at rest for many a long day. The parish church, in which thetomb of the family was situated, was about three miles off; and afterthe guests had been regaled at breakfast with wines of all sorts for theupper classes, and whisky, which flowed in profusion, for the lower,they mounted their horses, and entered their conveyances, to follow thehearse decorated with the usual trappings of mourning. Behind thehearse, in a mourning carriage, sat Nora and her cousin, closely veiled.Poor girls, how differently they felt to the mixed multitude whofollowed them. Their guests gave way to their usual habit of talkingand laughing as they rode along. The events of the day were discussed.The good qualities of the late Earl; the prospects of his obtaining ason-in-law who might take his place and do the honours of the castle;the beauty of his fair daughter; and especially, the state of hisfinances. Few would have supposed that the lively and animatedcollection of men, who rode along in every variety of costume, wereassembled there to pay the last honours to a deceased noble. They weresilent, however, as they assembled round the grave. Some perhaps forthe first time had then heard the burial service of the ProtestantChurch, as a large proportion of the guests were themselves Romanists;some perhaps were struck with what they heard; others probably attendedto little that was said. Nora and her cousin stood close to the grave,closely veiled as before; and as Nora gazed for the last time upon thecoffin of her beloved father, her heart sank within her, and she felt alonging to follow him to his quiet resting-place.
Again they made for the castle, and all restraint now being removed,laughing and joking was the order of the day. Some even, as the wineflowed faster, gave way to snatches of songs, while the last
meets werefully discussed, and the prospects of the next year's harvest. It isscarcely necessary to describe the events which took place at thecastle. A considerable number of the guests had no little difficulty inmounting their horses on their return home, from the generous liquorwhich they had imbibed out of the late Earl's cellars. Their greatgrief seemed to be, that there was no heir to succeed him, and to assistin keeping up the neighbouring hunt. At length the castle was once moreat rest.
Mr Finlayson set earnestly to work to arrange the affairs of the youngheiress. The steward, and those who were employed by him, had generallyacted honestly; but as he made inquiries about the tenants, many were inarrear with rent, and he saw that some effort must be made to compelthem to pay. He called the steward in for a consultation.
"You give very good advice, Mr Finlayson; but I will just ask you, as aScotchman said, `Who is to bell the cat?' You know, surely, that toattempt to distrain for rent on some of these gentlemen would assuredlybring a bullet through your brain or mine. It is not an easy matter toget money out of an Irishman when he is determined not to pay, and it isnot for you or me, if we are wise men, to push the matter too hard. Iwill do my best and go among them, and put it to them, whether theywould like to deprive the young heiress of her property. Perhaps,though they will not yield to force, they may to persuasion, and I amthankful to say, we still retain in old Ireland, the gift of blarney.You see, sir, we shall get much more out of them in that way. I willjust ask them if they would like to attack a young lady and rifle herpockets. Put it thus to them, and show them that if they keep back themoney they are doing the same thing. Now, we shall see, if I go on thisplan, whether those who can pay will pay, while those who cannot pay, itis very evident, will not do so; but to my mind, there is no use turninga man adrift in the world if you can help it. A better day may come,and then he may prove a good tenant. If you turn him out of oneproperty he will just build a hut in another corner of the land, and youwill have him there starving before your eyes, and you will not be thebetter for the move."
"Well, well, O'Connor, you are a wise man, I see. I will let you haveyour way in that respect. We will do nothing to create an ill-feelingagainst the dear young mistress, and it is for you and I who are engagedto serve her to look after her interests. I wish she had a good husbandto help her; but it is my belief, from what I see here, that there isnot a young man in the country at all fit for her. She is a good,gentle creature, and were she to wed one of the rollicking, harum-scarumyoung fellows who are her equals, he would break her heart; and stayingat home as she does, she is not likely to meet any others, while evenabroad she saw no one to care for, or, at least, no one appeared, soperhaps she will continue to live a maiden life, and if so, she willrequire your assistance and mine as long as I remain in the world."
Nora and Sophy were relieved from much anxiety by the continuedresidence of the kind Mr Finlayson at the castle. He was so lively, sofull of conversation and anecdotes, so kind and judicious at the sametime. He raised their spirits more than any one else could have done.A young man would have been out of place. Even kind, gentle MissO'Reilly, when she came over, though she talked very pleasantly, coulddo little to animate them. Mr Jamieson performed his part as well ashe could, but he was not very animated; he was more inclined to speak ina serious than lively strain.