“was this to meet? not so; we have not met.”
wednesday was the burkes’ at home day. they were the only people in the country who had taken to themselves a “day,” and to go and see them, and to eat their peculiarly admirable cakes, had become a recognized method of spending that afternoon. to-day, at about four o’clock, when i came in, their small drawing-room was full of people, and their confidential little copper tea-kettle was already making incessant journeys between the fireplace and the tea-table.{132}
mr. jimmy barrett was carrying about cups of tea, steering his perilous way among the low velvet-covered tables and basket chairs with a face expressive of the liveliest apprehension. he was the only young man present—a fact in itself sufficiently overwhelming, and now made doubly so by the attentions which, faute de mieux, were being bestowed upon him by miss dennehy, a young lady whom i remembered as having been much sought after at the mount prospect dance.
he took the first opportunity of sitting down in an unconspicuous position behind his mother’s chair, from whence he returned feeble and evasive rejoinders to the badinage levelled at him from the sofa, on which were seated miss dennehy and the rector’s daughter, miss josie horan. his mother, a lady whose ample proportions were a tacit reproach to her son’s meagre{133}ness of aspect, reclined imposingly in a chair by the fire, and several other ladies whom i did not know were sitting round the room.
the misses burke and their mother welcomed me effusively.
“where’s willy? i haven’t seen him this long while,” said miss mimi, regarding me with an expression of heartiest curiosity and good fellowship.
“no, indeed,” said mrs. burke; “we were wondering what had become of you both.”
she was a brisk little old lady, whose bright black eyes and hooked nose were suggestive of an ancient parrakeet, and whose voice further carried out the idea. i knew well that any cross-examination that she might subject me to would be as water unto wine compared with miss mimi’s, and i gladly turned and addressed myself to{134} her, and left willy, who had just come into the room, to satisfy miss mimi’s thirst for information.
his entrance caused a perceptible flutter in the room, and the occupants of the sofa at once began a loud and attractive conversation.
“i’m dying to hear more about the ball,” began miss horan. “aggie, you’re really no good at all”—this with artless petulance to miss dennehy. “i’m sure captain sarsfield could give a better account of it. he wasn’t sitting on the stairs all the time; were you, captain sarsfield?”
“i don’t think she should ask us these questions, should she, captain sarsfield?” responded miss dennehy. “i think ’tis very wrong to tell tales out of school!”
i, from the low chair which i had taken beside mrs. barrett, listened in some anxiety to a discussion which for both willy and{135} me was of so singularly discomposing a character. willy, however, was equal to the occasion. having fittingly assured miss dennehy of his abhorrence of tale-bearing, he provided himself with a cup of tea and a wedge of cake, and proceeded with unimpaired equanimity to seat himself on the sofa between miss horan and miss dennehy.
i had seldom seen miss horan, except behind the harmonium in her father’s church, and should certainly never have suspected her of the social gifts which she now displayed. she had a flat little face, set in a shock of hair which had once been short and had not yet become long. her pale blue eyes almost watered with pride and excitement, as she found that her conversation with willy was attracting the attention of the rest of the room.
“and who was the belle of the room,{136} captain sarsfield?” she asked, when willy had comfortably settled down to his tea.
“well, as you weren’t there, miss horan,” answered my cousin, shamelessly, “i wasn’t able to make up my mind about it.”
a delighted titter ran round the room at this sally; as it ceased, mrs. barrett broke the monumental silence which she had hitherto preserved.
“my jimmy,” she said, in a heavy, distinct voice, that lent an almost scriptural tone to her utterances, casting an eye of disfavour at miss josie, “told me that miss sarsfield and miss o’neill were the belles of the ball.”
deep as was my dismay at this unlooked-for statement, it was far excelled by that of its originator. on willy’s arrival he had altogether effaced himself; but now, from his refuge behind his{137} mother’s chair, i heard him inarticulately disclaiming the dashing criticism attributed to him.
“oh,” said miss mimi, jovially, “we all know that jimmy has an eye for a pretty girl! i thought,” she continued, addressing miss dennehy, “they were very bad about introducing people the other night. didn’t you, aggie?”
“really, i didn’t notice it, miss burke; but i heard a great many complaining about it, and i know the croly girls like to keep their gentlemen friends to themselves,” miss dennehy replied.
“well,” said miss horan, “i saw sissy croly yesterday, and she said that, indeed, she was introducing gentlemen all the evening. oh, and she was mad with the o’neills! she said that connie o’neill thought no one good enough to dance with but that officer they had staying at clash{138}more; and as for mr. o’neill, he pretended he was engaged for every dance, and her fawther”—it was thus that miss horan pronounced “father”—“found him, after supper, sitting in the library reading the paper.”
“oh, i dare say,” said miss dennehy. “i know he was engaged to me for the last extra, and as he didn’t choose to come for it, i didn’t choose to wait for him; did i, captain sarsfield?”
mrs. burke’s continuous twitter of talk did not so engross me that i could not hear all this, and remember that it was willy who, after his unavailing search for me, had become nugent’s substitute, and something in the rigid twist of his neck away from my direction told me that he too had not forgotten the antecedents of that dance. since her last speech mrs. barrett had been as silent as she was{139} motionless. i should almost have thought she was asleep, but her eyes wandered to each person’s face as they spoke, and somehow suggested to me the idea of an intelligent restless spirit imprisoned in a featherbed. she now saved willy the necessity of replying.
“i wonder why the young ladies in this country are so anxious to dance with nugent o’neill, as they all abominate him so much?” she inquired solemnly.
miss horan and miss dennehy looked speechlessly round for sympathy at this accusation, but before their indignation found words, a diversion was created by the entrance of mrs. jackson-croly and her daughters. miss sissy croly lingered at the door to speak to some one in the hall. i recognized the voice which replied to her, though i could not hear the words, and some instinct of self-defence made{140} me rush into conversation with jimmy barrett before nugent followed miss croly into the room.
since the day i had gone into moycullen i had been slowly and, as i thought, successfully hardening my heart. i had made a mistake, but it was not an irretrievable one, and here was an opportunity of proving to myself how little it had really affected me. so i talked sedulously to mr. jimmy barrett, until, mrs. croly’s greetings to the burkes over, manners demanded that i should shake hands with her. nugent was standing near, speaking to miss burke, and as i turned from mrs. croly he paused in his conversation.
“how do you do, miss sarsfield?” he said formally; then, after a moment’s silence, he spoke again to miss burke—“yes, i was to have started off yesterday, but i could{141} not manage it, and i thought i should like to see you before i go, as i may not be back again for some time.”
“why, every one is going away from the country!” said miss mimi, directing her discourse to me. “willy was saying, now this minute, that he was afraid you were thinking of being off too?”
“yes; i have been thinking of it, but i am not sure. i have to wait for an answer from my aunt in boston before i arrange anything,” i said, with a confusion which took me unawares.
miss burke looked at me with delighted sagacity.
“oh, now, i know quite well what that means! i don’t believe you’re going away at all—do you, mr. o’neill?”
in spite of my own embarrassment, it gave an indefinable pleasure to see, in the imperfect light afforded by miss burk{142}e’s lace-shrouded windows, that nugent’s imperturbable face was slowly changing in colour from its usual brown to a dull crimson.
but miss mimi, in the fullness of her heart, did not wait for his answer.
“i’ll talk to willy about it,” she went on. “i’ll engage he won’t let you be running away from us like this!”
the fact that nugent had turned away, and was speaking to miss croly, gave me sufficient assurance to make some airy response. but i had lost confidence in myself, and, cutting short the conversation, i again took refuge in my chair near mrs. barrett.
for some little time mrs. jackson-croly’s voice dominated the room, and obviated all necessity for conversation on the part of any one else. she also was talking of going away.{143}
“yes, mrs. burke,” she said; “i’m thinking of taking the girls to southsea. there’s such nice military society there. i always like to take them to england as often as i can, on account of the accent. i loathe a cork brogue! my fawther took me abroad every year; he was so alormed lest i’d acquire it, and i assure you, when we were children, he used to insist on mamma’s putting cotton wool in our ears when we went to old mr. flannagan’s church, for fear we’d ketch his manner of speaking.”
“dear, dear!” said mrs. burke, sympathetically, wholly unmoved by this instance of the refinement of mrs. croly’s father. “poor old johnny flannagan! he had a beautiful voice in the pulpit. i declare”—turning to me—“sometimes you’d think the people out in the street would hear him, and the next minute{144} you’d think ’twas a pigeon cooing to you.”
at another time i should probably have been inclined to lead mrs. burke on to more reminiscences of this gifted divine, but my sole idea now was to get away as soon as possible. i looked to see if willy had nearly finished his tea, but found that it was still in progress; in fact, when i looked round, miss dennehy and miss horan were engaged in throwing pieces of cake into his open mouth, loud laughter announcing equally the success or failure of their aim. willy caught my eye, and guiltily shut his mouth.
“do you want the horses, theo?” he said, rightly interpreting my look, and hastily getting up from the sofa, while small pieces of cake fell off him in every direction. “i’ll go round and see about them.”
“now, you needn’t be in such a hurry,{145} willy,” said miss burke, getting up. “there’s just light enough left to show your cousin my new plymouth rocks. i’ve been telling her all about them; and i’ve the doatiest little house built for them in the yard! come along, miss sarsfield; we’ll slip out by the greenhouse while he’s getting the horses;” and, snatching up a purple woollen antimacassar from the back of the chair, she wrapped her head and shoulders in it, and with total unconsciousness of her extraordinary appearance she led me out of the room.
the evening had grown very cold. i had felt smothered in the little drawing-room, but now i shivered as i stood by the wired enclosure in the corner of the garden, watching the much-vaunted plymouth rocks picking and scratching about their gravel yard, and listening with simulated intelligence to miss burke’s harangue upon their{146} superiority to all other tribes of hens. beyond the fact that hens laid eggs in greater or less profusion, i knew nothing about them. but, fortunately, miss mimi’s enthusiasm asked for no more than the stray word or two of ignorant praise with which i filled up her infrequent pauses.
my eyes took in, without losing any detail of absurdity, the effect of her large face and majestic nose, surmounted by the purple antimacassar, but my brain did not seem to receive any definite impression from it. every faculty was deadened by the battle between pride and despair that was being fought out in me again. i had persuaded myself that that fight was over and done with; but now as i stood in the damp twilight, and looked at the firelit drawing-room windows, i felt that this time despair might be likely to get the mastery.{147}
miss mimi’s voice broke strangely in on my thoughts.
“well, now, wait a moment till i go round to the back,” she said. “me greatest beauties are roosting in the house; but i must run into the kitchen for the key, and then i can get in and poke them out for you to see them.”
she went round through a door in the thick fuchsia hedge, which encircled the garden and divided it from the yard, and left me standing by myself in the chilly silence of the evening. i had almost forgotten what i was waiting there for, though it could not have been more than three or four minutes since miss burke left me, when i heard steps come through the yard, and the faint smell of cigarettes penetrated the hedge. a horse’s hoofs clattered on the stones as it was led out of the stable.{148}
“well, good-bye, nugent,” said willy’s voice. “will you be away long?”
“yes; i dare say i shall not be home for some time. i am thinking of going abroad for a bit.”
“abroad? where to? is it to cannes again? or will you take a run over to—to the u-nited states?” said willy, with an indifferent assumption of an american accent.
one or two movements from the horse filled the brief silence which ensued, and when nugent spoke again it was evident he had mounted.
“no,” he said; “that’s about the last place i should ever want to go to. well, good-bye. i suppose i shall find you here when i get back?” he went on a few steps, and stopped. “say good-bye to miss sarsfield for me, will you?” he said, and rode out of the yard.
