CHAPTER IV.
BARRY ORANMORE.
----"Pray for the dead-- Why for the dead, who are at rest? Pray for the living, in whose breast The struggle between right and wrong Is raging, terrible and strong."--LONGFELLOW.
It was a luxuriously furnished apartment. A thick, soft carpet, whereblue violets peeped from glowing green leaves so naturally that oneinvoluntarily stooped to cull them, covered the floor. Rare oldpaintings adorned the wall, and the cornices were fretted with gold. Theheavy crimson curtains shut out the sound of the wintry wind, and aglowing coal fire shed a living, radiant glow over everything around.The air was redolent of intoxicating perfume, breathing of summer andsunshine. On the marble-topped center-table stood bottles and glasses, acigar-case, a smoking-cap, and a pair of elegant, silver-mountedpistols. It was evidently a gentleman's room, judging by the disorder. Abeautiful marble Flora stood in one corner, arrayed in a gaudydressing-gown, and opposite stood a dainty little Peri adorned with abeaver hat. Jupiter himself was there, with a violin suspendedgracefully around his neck, and Cupid was leaning against the wall,heels uppermost, with bent bow, evidently taking deliberate aim at theflies on the ceiling.
Among the many exquisite paintings hanging on the wall, there was one ofsurpassing beauty; it represented a bleak hill-side, with a flock ofsheep grazing on the scanty herbage, a lowering, troubled sky above; andone could almost see the fitful gusts of wind sighing over the grayhill-tops. Standing erect was a young girl--a mere child in years--herlong golden hair streaming wildly in the breeze, her straw hat swingingin her hand, her fair, bright face and large blue eyes raised withmingled shyness and sauciness to a horseman bending over her, as ifspeaking. His fiery steed seemed pawing with impatience; but his riderheld him with a firm hand. He was a tall, slight youth, with raven blackhair and eyes, and a dark, handsome face. There was a wild look aboutthe dark horseman and darker steed, reminding one of the Black Horsemanof the Hartz Mountains. Underneath was written, in a dashing masculinehand, "The first meeting." There was something strikingly, vividlylife-like in the whole scene; even the characters--the slender girl,with her pretty, piquant face, and the handsome, graceful rider--weremore like living beings than creations of fancy.
And--yes, standing by the fire, his arm resting on the mantel, his eyesfixed on the hearth, stood the original of the picture. The same tall,superb form; the same clear olive complexion; the same curling locks ofjet, and black eyes of fire; the same firm, proud mouth, shaded by athick black mustache--there he stood, his eyes riveted on the glowingcoals, his brow knit as though in deep and painful thought. Now and thenthe muscles of his face would twitch, and his white hands involuntarilyclench at some passing thought.
At intervals the noise of doors shutting and opening would reach hisear, and he would start as though he had received a galvanic shock, andlisten for a moment intently. Nothing could be heard but the cracklingof the fire at such times, and again he would relapse into gloomymusing.
"What a fool I have been!" he exclaimed, at length between his clenchedteeth, as he shook back with fierce impatience his glossy hair, "toburden myself with this girl! Dolt, idiot that I was, to allow myself tobe bewitched by her blue eyes and yellow hair! What demon could havepossessed me to make her my wife? My wife! Just fancy me presenting thatlittle blushing, shrinking Galway girl as my wife to my lady mother, orto that princess of coquettes, Lizzie Erliston! I wish to heaven I hadblown my brains out instead of putting my head into such a confoundednoose--making myself the laughing-stock of all my gallant friends andlady acquaintances! No, by heaven! they shall never laugh at BarryOranmore. Eveleen shall be sent back to her friends. They will be gladenough to get her on any terms; and she will soon forget me, and behappy tending her sheep once more. And yet--and yet--poor Eveleen!" hesaid, suddenly, pausing before the picture, while his dark eyes filledwith a softer light, and his voice assumed a gentler tone; "she loves meso well yet--far more than I do her. I hardly like the thought ofsending her away; but it cannot be helped. My mother's purse is runninglow, I fear; Erliston's coffers must replenish it. Yes, there is no helpfor it; Eveleen must go, and I must marry little Lizzie. Poor child; sheleft home, and friends, and all for me; and it _does_ seem a villainousact in me to desert her for another. But go she must; there is noalternative."
He was walking up and down in his intense excitement--sometimes pausingsuddenly for a few moments, and then walking on faster than before. Thushalf an hour passed, during which he seemed to have formed somedetermination; for his mouth grew stern, and his clear eyes cold andcalm, as he once more leaned against the mantel, and fell into thought.
Presently the door opened and a woman entered. She was a stout,corpulent person, with coarse, bloated face, and small, bleared eyes. Asshe entered, she cast an affectionate glance toward the brandy bottle onthe table--a glance which said plainly she would have no objection totrying its quality. She was arrayed for the street, with a large cloakenveloping her ample person, and a warm quilted hood tied over hersubstantial double chin.
"Well, sir, I'll be movin', I reckon," said the woman, adjusting hercloak. "The young lady's doing very nicely, and the baby's sleeping likean angel. So they'll get along very well to-night without me."
The young man started at the sound of her voice, and, looking up, saidcarelessly:
"Oh, it's you, is it? Are you for leaving?"
"Yes, sir; it's time I was home and to bed. I ain't used to bein' uplate nights now--don't agree with my constitution; it's sorter delicate.Shouldn't wonder if I was fallin' into a decline."
The quizzical dark eyes of the young man surveyed the rotund personbefore him, and in spite of himself he burst out laughing.
"Well, now, if you was in a decline yourself, you'd laugh t'other sideof your mouth, I reckon," said the offended matron. "S'pose you thinkit's very funny laughing at a poor, lone 'oman, without chick nor child.But I can tell you----"
"Ten thousand pardons, madam, for my offense," he interrupted,courteously, though there was still a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Praysit down for a moment; I have something to say to you."
"Well, now, it don't seem exactly right to sit here with you at thishour of the night. Howsomever, I will, to oblige you," and the worthydame placed her ample frame in a cushioned elbow-chair.
"Perhaps this argument may aid in overcoming your scruples," said theyoung man, filling her a glass of wine, and throwing himself on alounge; "and now to business. You are a widow?"
"Yes, sir. My blessed husband died a martyr to his country--died in thedischarge of his duty. He was a custom-house officer, and felt it hisduty always to examine liquors before destroying them. Well, one day hetook too much, caught the devil-rum tremendous, and left me adisconsolate widder. The coroner of the jury set onto him, and----"
"There, there! never mind particulars. You have no children?"
"No," said the old woman stiffly, rather offended by his unceremoniousinterruption.
"If you were well paid, you would have no objection to taking one andbringing it up as your own?" said the young man, speaking quietly,though there was a look of restless anxiety in his fine eyes.
"Well, no; I'd have no objection, if----" and here she slapped herpocket expressively, by way of finishing the sentence.
"Money shall be no object; but remember, the world must think it is yourown--_I_ am never to be troubled about it more."
"All right--I understand," said the nurse, nodding her head sagely."S'pose it's the little one in there?"
"It is. Can you take it away now?"
"To-night?"
"Yes."
"But laws! ain't it too cold and stormy. Better wait till to-morrow."
"No," was the quick and peremptory answer. "To-night, now, within thisvery hour, it must be removed; and I am never to hear of it more."
"And the poor young lady? Seems sorter hard, now don't it? she'll takeon wonderfully, I'm feared."
A spasm of pain passed over his handsome face, and for
a moment he wassilent. Then, looking up, he said, with brief sternness:
"It cannot be helped. You must go without disturbing her, and I willbreak the news to her myself. Here is my purse for the present. What isyour address?"
The woman gave it.
"Very well, you shall hear from me regularly; but should we ever meetagain, in the street or elsewhere, you are not to know me, and you mustforget all that has transpired to-night."
"Hum!" said the fat widow, doubtfully.
"And now you had better depart. The storm has almost ceased, and thenight is passing away. Is Ev--is my wife awake?"
"No; I left her sleeping."
"So much the better. You can take _it_ with you without disturbing her.Go."
The buxom widow arose and quitted the room. Oranmore lay on a lounge,rigidly motionless, his face hidden by his hand. A fierce storm wasraging in his breast--"the struggle between right and wrong." Pride andambition struggled with love and remorse, but the fear of the worldconquered: and when the old woman re-entered, bearing a sleeping infantin her arms, he looked up as composedly as herself.
"Pretty little dear," said the widow, wrapping the child in a thickwoolen shawl, "how nicely she sleeps! Very image of her mother, andshe's the beautifulest girl I ever saw in my life. I gave her someparegoric to make her sleep till I go home. Well, good-night, sir. Ourbusiness is over."
"Yes, good-night. Remember the secret; forget what has transpiredto-night, and your fortune is made. You will care for _it_"--and hepointed to the child--"as though it were your own."
"Be sure I will, dear little duck. Who could help liking such a sweet,pretty darling? I s'pose you'll come to see it sometimes, sir?"
"No. You can send me word of its welfare now and then. Go, madam, go."
The widow turned to leave the room, and, unobserved by the young man,who had once more thrown himself on his face on the sofa, she seized awell-filled brandy-flask and concealed it beneath her shawl.
Quitting the house, she walked as rapidly as her bulksome proportionswould permit over the snowy ground. The road leading to her home lay inthe direction of the sea-shore; and, as she reached the beach, she wasthoroughly chilled by the cold, in spite of her warm wrappings.
"It's as cold as the Arctic Ocean, and I've heerd say that's the coldestcountry in the world. A drop of comfort won't come amiss just now. LuckyI thought on't. This little monkey's as sound as a top. It's my 'pinionthat young gent's no better than he ought to be, to treat such a lovelyyoung lady in this fashion. Well, it's no business of mine, so's I'mwell paid. Lor! I hope I hain't gin it too much paregoric; wouldn't foranything 'twould die. S'pose I'd get no more tin then. That's prime,"she added, placing the flask to her lips and draining a long draught.
As the powerful fumes of the brandy arose to her head, the worthy lady'ssenses became rather confused; and, falling rather than sitting on thebank, the child, muffled like a mummy in its plaid, rolled from her armsinto a snow-wreath. At the same moment the loud ringing of bells andthe cry of "Fire! fire!" fell upon her ear. It roused her; and, in theexcitement of the moment forgetting her little charge, she sprang up aswell as she could, and, by a strange fascination, was soon involuntarilydrawn away to mingle with the crowd, who were hurrying in the directionof her abode.
Scarcely five minutes before, Dr. Wiseman had quitted that very spot:and there, within a few yards of each other, the two unconscious infantslay, little knowing how singularly their future lives were to beunited--little dreaming how fatal an influence _one_ of them was yet towield over _him_.
Some time after, when the flames were extinguished and the crowd hadquitted the streets for their beds--when the unbroken silence of comingmorning had fallen over the city--the widow returned to seek for herchild.
But she sought in vain; the rising tide had swept over the bank, and wasagain retreating sullenly to the sea.
Sobered by terror and remorse, the wretched woman trod up and down thedreary, deserted snowy beach until morning broke; but she sought andsearched in vain. The child was gone.
Sharing Her Crime: A Novel Page 5
