The Wild Geese

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE LIMIT

  If there was one man more sorry than another that the Morristown risinghad been nipped in the bud it was Luke Asgill. It stood to his creditthat, though he had never dared to cross Flavia's will, he had tried,and honestly tried, to turn James McMurrough from the attempt. But evenwhile doing this, he had known--as he had once told James with bitterfrankness--that his interest lay in the other scale; he had seen thathad he attended to it only, he would not have dissuaded The McMurrough,but, on the contrary, would have egged him on, in the assurance thatthe failure of the plot would provide his one best chance of winningFlavia. A score of times, indeed, he had pictured, and with rapture,the inevitable collapse. In the visions of his head upon his bed he hadseen the girl turn to him in the wreck of things--it might be to saveher brother's life, it might be to save her tender feet from the stonesof foreign streets. And in the same dream he had seen himself standingby her, alone against the world; as, to do him justice, he would havestood, no matter how sharp the stress or great the cost.

  He had no doubt that he would be able to save her--in spite of herselfand whatever her indiscretion. For he belonged to a class that has everowned inordinate power in Ireland: the class of the middlemen withroots in either camp--a grandam, who, perchance, still softens her clayon the old cabin hearth, while a son preens it with his betters inTrinity College. Such men carry into the ruling ranks their knowledgeof the modes of thought, the tricks and subterfuges of those from whomthey spring; and at once astute and overbearing, hard and supple, turnthe needs of rich and poor to their own advantage, and rise on thecommon loss. Asgill, with money to lend in the town, and protections togrant upon the bog, with the secrets of two worlds in his head or inhis deed-box, could afford to await with confidence the day when thestorm would break upon Morristown, and Flavia, in the ruin of all abouther, would turn to him for rescue.

  Keen therefore was his chagrin when, through the underground channelswhich were in his power, he heard two days after the event, and indistant Tralee, what had happened. Some word of a large Spanish shipseen off the point had reached the mess-room; but only he knew hownearly work had been found for the garrison: only he, walking aboutwith a smooth face, listened for the alarm that did not come. For awonder he had been virtuous, he had given James his warning; yet he hadseen cakes and ale in prospect. Now, not only was the treat vanishedbelow the horizon, but stranger news, news still less welcome, waswhispered in his ear. The man whom he had distrusted from the first,the man against whom he had warned The McMurrough, had done this. More,in spite of the line he had taken, the man was still at Morristown, ifnot honoured, protected, and if not openly triumphant, master in fact.

  Luke Asgill swore horribly. But Colonel Sullivan had got the better ofhim once, and he was not to be duped again by this Don Quixote'smildness and love of peace. He knew him to be formidable, and he tooktime to consider before he acted. He waited a week and examined thematter on many sides before he took horse to see things with his owneyes. Nor did he alight at the gate of Morristown until he had mademany a resolution to be wary and on his guard.

  He had reason to call these to mind before his foot was well out of thestirrup, for the first person he saw, after he had bidden his groomtake the horses to the stable, was Colonel Sullivan. Asgill had time toscan his face before they met in the middle of the courtyard, the oneentering, the other leaving; and he judged that Colonel John's triumphdid not go very deep. He was looking graver, sadder, older;finally--this he saw as they saluted one another--sterner.

  Asgill stepped aside courteously, meaning to go by him. But the Colonelstepped aside also, and so barred his way. "Mr. Asgill," he said--andthere was something of the martinet in his tone--"I will trouble you togive me a word apart."

  "A word apart?" Asgill answered. He was taken aback, and do what hecould the Colonel's grave eyes discomposed him. "With all the pleasurein life, Colonel. But a little later, by your leave."

  "I think now were more convenient, sir," the Colonel answered, "by yourleave."

  "I will lay my cloak in the house, and then----"

  "It will be more convenient to keep your cloak, I'm thinking," theColonel rejoined with dryness. And either because of the meaning in hisvoice or the command in his eyes, Asgill gave way and turned with him,and the two walked gravely and step for step through the gateway.

  Outside the Colonel beckoned to a ragged urchin who was playing ducksand drakes with his naked toes. "Go after Mr. Asgill's horses," hesaid, and bid the man bring them back."

  "Colonel Sullivan!"

  The Colonel did not heed his remonstrance. "And follow us!" hecontinued. "Are you hearing, boy? Go then."

  "Colonel Sullivan," Asgill repeated, his face both darker andpaler--for there could be no doubt about the other's meaning--"I'mthinking this is a strange liberty you're taking. And I beg to say Idon't understand the meaning of it."

  "You wish to know the meaning of it?"

  "I do."

  "It means, sir," Colonel John replied, "that the sooner you start onyour return journey the better!"

  Asgill stared. "The better you will be pleased, you mean!" he said. Andhe laughed harshly.

  "The better it will be for you, I mean," Colonel John answered.

  Asgill flushed darkly, but he commanded himself--having thoseinjunctions to prudence fresh in his mind. "This is an odd tone," hesaid. "And I must ask you to explain yourself further, or I can tellyou that what you have said will go for little. I am here upon theinvitation of my friend, The McMurrough----"

  "This is not his house."

  Asgill stared. "Do you mean----"

  "I mean what I say," the Colonel answered. "This is not his house, asyou well know."

  "But----"

  "It is mine, and I do not propose to entertain you, Mr. Asgill,"Colonel John continued. "Is that sufficiently plain?"

  The glove was down. The two men looked at one another, while the knotof beggars, gathered round the gate and just out of earshot, watchedthem--in the dark as to all else, but aware with Irish shrewdness thatthey were at grips. Asgill was not only taken by surprise, but he layunder the disadvantage of ignorance. He did not know precisely howthings stood, much less could he explain this sudden attack. Yet if thetall, lean man, serious and growing grey, represented one form ofstrength, the shorter, stouter man, with the mobile face and the quickbrain, stood for another. Offhand he could think of no weak spot on hisside; and if he must fight, he would fight.

  He forced a laugh. And, truly to think of this man, who had not seenMorristown for a score of years, using the experience of a fortnight togive him notice to quit, was laughable. The laugh he had forced becamereal.

  "More plain than hospitable, Colonel," he said. "Perhaps, after all, itwill be best so, and we shall understand one another."

  "I am thinking so," Colonel Sullivan answered. It was plain that he didnot mean to be drawn from the position he had taken up.

  "Only I think that you have overlooked this," Asgill continuedsmoothly. "It is one thing to own a house and another to kick the logson the hearth; one thing to have the deeds and another--in the west--topass the punch-bowl! More, by token, 'tis a hospitable country this,Colonel, none more so; and if there is one thing would annoy TheMcMurrough and the young lady, his sister, more than another, it wouldbe to turn a guest from the door--that is thought to be theirs!"

  "You mean that you will not take my bidding?" the Colonel said.

  "Not the least taste in life," Asgill answered gaily, "unless it isbacked by the gentleman or the lady."

  "Yet I believe, sir, that I have a means to persuade you," Colonel Johnreplied. "It is no more than a week ago, Mr. Asgill, since a number ofpersons in my presence assumed a badge so notoriously treasonable thata child could not doubt its meaning."

  "In the west of Ireland," Asgill said, with a twinkle in his eye, "thatis a trifle, my dear sir, not worth naming."

  "But if reported in the east?"

  Asgill ave
rted his face that its smile might not be seen. "Well," hesaid, "it might be a serious matter there."

  "I think you take me now," Colonel John rejoined. "I wish to use nothreats. The least said the soonest mended."

  Asgill looked at him with half-shut eyes and a lurking smile--in truth,with the amusement of a man watching the transparent scheming of achild. "As you say, the least said the soonest mended," he rejoined."So--who is to report it in the east?"

  "I will, if necessary."

  "If----"

  "If you push me to it."

  Asgill raised his eyebrows impertinently. "An informer?" he said.

  Colonel John did not flinch. "If necessary," he repeated.

  "That would be serious," Asgill rejoined, "for many people. In thefirst place for the young lady, your ward, Colonel. Then for yourkinsman--and Mr. Ulick Sullivan. After that for quite a number ofhonest gentlemen, tolerably harmless and tolerably well-reputed here,whose only fault is a tendency to heroics after dinner. It would be soserious, and for so many, Colonel, that for my part I should be glad tosuffer in such good company. Particularly," he continued, with a drolllook, the droller for his appreciation of the Colonel's face ofdiscomfiture, "as being a Protestant and a Justice, I should, ten toone, be the only person against whom the story would not pass. Eh,Colonel, what do you think? So that, ten to one, I should go free, andthe others go to Geordie's prison!"

  Colonel John had not, to be honest, a word to say. He was fairlydefeated, his flank turned, his guns captured. He had counted so surelyon a panic, on the man whom he knew to be a knave proving also acoward, that even his anger--and he was very angry--could not hide hisdiscomfiture. He looked, indeed, so rueful, and at the same time sowrathful, that Asgill laughed aloud.

  "Come, Colonel," he said, "it is no use to scowl at me. We know younever call any one out. Let me just hint that wits in Ireland are notquite so slow as in colder countries, and that, had I been here a weekback, you had not found it so easy to----"

  "To what, sir?"

  "To send two old women to sea in a cockboat," Asgill replied. And helaughed anew and loudly. But this time there was no gaiety in hislaugh. If the Colonel had not performed the feat in question, in howdifferent a state things might have been at this moment! Asgill feltmurderous towards him as he thought of that; and the weapon of theflesh being out of the question--for he had no mind to face theColonel's small-sword--he sought about for an arm of another kind, andhad no difficulty in finding one. "More, by token," he continued, "ifyou are going to turn informer, it was a pity you did not send theyoung woman to sea with the old ones. But I'm thinking you'd not beliking to be without her, Colonel?"

  Colonel John turned surprisingly red: perhaps he did not quite knowwhy. "We will leave her out of the question, sir," he said haughtily."Or--that reminds me! That reminds me," he continued, with increasingsternness. "You question my right to bid you begone----"

  "By G--d, I do!" Asgill cried, with zest. He was beginning to enjoyhimself.

  "But you forget, I think, another little matter in the past that isknown to me--and that you would not like disclosed, I believe, sir."

  "You seem to have been raking things up, Colonel."

  "One must deal with a rogue according to his roguery," Colonel Johnretorted.

  Asgill's face grew dark. This was taking the buttons off with avengeance. He made a movement, but restrained himself. "You don't mincematters," he said.

  "I do not."

  "You may be finding it an unfortunate policy before long," Asgill saidbetween his teeth. He was moved at last, angered, perhaps apprehensiveof what was coming.

  "Maybe, sir," Colonel John returned, "maybe. But in the meantime let meremind you that your tricks as a horsedealer would not go far torecommend you as a guest to my kinswoman."

  "Oh?"

  "Who shall assuredly hear who seized her mare if you persist in forcingyour company upon her."

  "Upon her?" Asgill repeated, in a peculiar tone. "I see."

  Colonel John reddened. "You know now," he said. "And if youpersist----"

  "You will tell her," Asgill took him up, "that I--shall I say--abductedher mare?"

  "I shall tell her without hesitation."

  "Or scruple?"

  Colonel Sullivan glowered at him, but did not answer.

  Asgill laughed a laugh of honest contempt. "And she," he said, "willnot believe you if you swear it a score of times! Try, sir! Try! Youwill injure yourself, you will not injure me. Why, man," he continued,in a tone of unmeasured scorn, "you are duller than I thought you were!The ice is still in your wits and the fog in your brain. I thought,when I heard what you had done, that you were the man for Kerry!But----"

  "What is it? What's this?"

  The speaker was James McMurrough, who had come from the house in searchof the kinsman he dared not suffer out of his sight. He had approachedunnoticed, and his churlish tone showed that what he had overheard wasnot to his liking. But Asgill supposed that James's ill-humour wasdirected against his enemy, and he appealed to him.

  "What is it?" he repeated with energy; "I'll tell you!"

  "Then you'll be telling me indoors!" James answered curtly.

  "No!" said Colonel Sullivan.

  But at that the young man exploded. "No?" he cried. "No? And, why no?Confusion, sir, it's too far you are driving us," he continuedpassionately. "Is it at your bidding I must stand in a mob of beggarsat my own gate--I, The McMurrough? And be telling and taking for allthe gossoons in the country to hear? No? But it's yes, I say! There'sbounds to it all, and if you must be falling to words with my friends,quarrel like gentlemen within doors, and not in a parcel of loons atthe gate."

  He turned without waiting for a reply and strode into the courtyard.Colonel John hesitated a moment, then he stood aside, and, with a sternface, he invited Asgill to precede him. The Justice did so, smiling. Hehad won the first bout; and now, if he was not much mistaken, hisopponent had made a false move.

  That opponent, following with a sombre face, began to be of the sameopinion. In his simplicity he had supposed that it would be easy tobell the cat. He had seen, he fancied, a way to do it in a corner,quietly, with little outcry and no disturbance. But the cat had teethand claws and the cunning of a cat, and was not, it now appeared, ananimal easy to bell.

  They passed into the house, The McMurrough leading. There were two orthree buckeens in the hall, and Darby and one of the down-at-heelserving-boys were laying the evening meal. "You'll be getting out,"James said curtly.

  "We will," replied one of the men. And they trooped out at the back.

  "Now, what is it?" the McMurrough asked, turning on his followers andspeaking in a tone hardly more civil.

  "It's what you're saying--Get out!" Asgill answered smiling. "Only it'sthe Colonel here's for saying it, and it seems I'm the one to get out."

  "What the saints do you mean?" James growled. "Sorra bit of your fun amI wishing at this present!" He wanted no trouble, and he saw that herewas trouble.

  "I can tell you in a few words," Colonel Sullivan answered. "You knowon what terms we are here. I wish to do nothing uncivil, and I waslooking for this gentleman to take a hint and go quietly. He will not,it seems, and so I must say plainly what I mean. I object to hispresence here."

  James stared. He did not understand. "Why, man, he's no Jacobite," hecried, "whoever the other is!" His surprise was genuine.

  "I will say nothing as to that," Colonel John answered precisely.

  "Then, faith, what are you saying?" James asked. Asgill stood bysmiling, aware that silence would best fight his battle.

  "This," Colonel John returned. "That I know those things of him thatmake him unfit company here."

  "The devil you do!"

  "And----"

  But James's patience was at an end. "Unfit company for whom?" he cried."Eh! Unfit company for whom? Is it Darby he'll be spoiling? Or Thaddythe lad? Or"--resentment gradually overcoming irony--"is it Phelim orMorty he'll be tainting the souls of, and he a
Protestant likeyourself? Curse me, Colonel Sullivan, it's clean out of patience youput me! Are we boys at school, to be scolded and flouted and put rightby you? Unfit company? For whom? For whom, sir? I'd like to know. More,by token, I'd like to know also where this is to end--and I will, byyour leave! For whom, sir?"

  "For your sister," Colonel John replied. "Without saying more, Mr.Asgill is not of the class with whom your grandfather----"

  "My grandfather--be hanged!" cried the angry young man--angry with somecause, for it must be confessed that Colonel John, with the bestintentions, was a little heavy-handed. "You said you'd be master here,and faith," he continued with bitterness, "it's master you mean to be.But there's a limit! By Heaven, there's a limit----"

  "Yes, James, there is a limit!" a voice struck in--a voice as angry asThe McMurrough's, but vibrating to a purer note of passion; so that theindignation which it expressed seemed to raise the opposition toColonel John's action to a higher plane. "There is a limit, ColonelSullivan!" Flavia repeated, stepping from the foot of the stairs, onthe upper flight of which--drawn from her room by the firstoutburst--she had heard the whole. "And it has been reached! It hasbeen reached when the head of The McMurroughs of Morristown is told onhis own hearth whom he shall receive and whom he shall put to the door!Limit is it? Let me tell you, sir, I would rather be the poorest exilethan live thus. I would rather beg my bread barefoot among strangers,never to see the sod again, never to hear the friendly Irish tongue,never to smell, the peat reek, than live on this tenure, at the mercyof a hand I loathe, on the sufferance of a man I despise, of aninformer, a traitor, ay, an apostate----"

  "Flavia! Flavia!" Colonel John's remonstrance was full of pain.

  "Ah, don't call me that!" she rejoined passionately. "Don't make mehate my own name! Better a hundred times an open foe----"

  "Have I ever been anything but an open foe?" he returned. "On thispoint at any rate?"

  She swept the remonstrance by. "Better," she cried vehemently, "farbetter a fate we know, a lot we understand; far better freedom andpoverty, than to live thus--yesterday a laughing-stock, to-day slaves;yesterday false to our vows, to-day false to our friends! Oh, theremust be an end! There----"

  She choked on the word, and her distress moved Asgill to do a strangething. He had listened to her with an admiration that for the timepurified the man, lifted him above selfishness, put the desire totriumph far from him. Now he stepped forward. "I would rather nevercross this threshold again," he cried; "never, ay, believe me, I wouldrather never see you again, than give you this pain! I go, dear lady, Igo! And do not let one thought of me trouble or distress you! Let thisgentleman have his way. I do not understand. I do not ask tounderstand, how he holds you, or constrains you. But I shall besilent."

  He seemed to the onlookers as much raised above himself as Colonel Johnseemed depressed below himself. There could be no doubt with whom thevictory lay: with whom the magnanimity. Asgill stood erect, almostbeatified, a Saint George, a knight of chivalry. Colonel Sullivanshowed smaller to the eye, stood bowed and grey-faced, a man beaten andvisibly beaten.

  But as Asgill turned on his heel Flavia found her voice. "Do not go!"she cried impulsively. "There must be an end! There must be an end ofthis!"

  But Asgill insisted. He saw that to go, to submit himself to the swayagainst which she revolted was to impress himself upon her mind, was tocommend himself to her a hundred times more seriously than if hestayed. And he persisted. "No," he said; "permit me to go." He steppedforward and, with a grace borrowed for the occasion, and with lips thattrembled at his daring, he raised and kissed her hand. "Permit me togo, dear lady. I would rather banish myself a hundred times than bringill into this house or differences into this family."

  "Flavia!" Colonel Sullivan said, finding his voice at last, "hearfirst, I am begging you, what I have to say! Hear it, since against mywill the matter has been brought to your knowledge."

  "That last I can believe!" she cried spitefully. "But for hearing, Ichoose the part this gentleman has chosen--to go from your presence.What?" looking at the Colonel with white cheeks and flamingeyes--Asgill had turned to go from the room--"has it come to this? Thatwe must seek your leave to live, to breathe, to have a guest, to eatand sleep, and perhaps to die? Then I say--then I say, if this be so,we have no choice but to go. This is no place for us!"

  "Flavia!"

  "Ah, do not call me that!" she retorted. "My hope, joy, honour, are inthis house, and you have disgraced it! My brother is a McMurrough, andwhat have you made of him? He cowers before your eye! He has no willbut yours! He is as good as dumb--before his master! You flog us likechildren, but you forget that we are grown, and that it is more thanthe body that smarts. It is shame we feel--shame so bitter that if alook could lay you dead at my feet, though it cost us all, though itleft us beggared, I would look it joyfully--were I alone! But you,cowardly interloper, a schemer living on our impotence, walk on andtrample upon us----"

  "Enough," Colonel Sullivan cried, intolerable pain in his voice. "Youwin! You have a heart harder than the millstone, more set than ice! Icall you to witness I have struggled hard, I have struggled hard,girl----"

  "For the mastery," she cried venomously. "And for your master, thedevil!"

  "No," he replied, more quietly. "I think for God. If I was wrong, mayHe forgive me!"

  "I never will!" she protested.

  "I shall not ask for your forgiveness," he retorted. He looked at hersilently, and then, in an altered tone, "The more," he said, "as mymind is changed again. Ay, thank God, changed again. A minute ago I wasweak; now I am strong, and I will do my duty as I have set myself to doit. When I came here I came to be a peacemaker, I came to save thegreat from his folly and the poor from his ignorance, to shield thehouse of my fathers from ruin and my kin from the gaol and the gibbet.And I stand here still, and I shall persist--I shall persist."

  "You will?" she exclaimed.

  "I shall! I shall remain and persist."

  Passion choked her. She could not find words. After all she had said hewould persist. He was not to be moved--he would persist. He would stilltrample upon them, still be master. The house was no longer theirs, norwas anything theirs. They were to have no life, no will, nofreedom--while he lived. Ah, while he lived. She made an odd gesturewith her hands, and turned and went up the stairs, leaving him masterof the field. The worse for him! The worse, the worse, the worse forhim!