CHAPTER XXXV."THE APPARITION."
"And having once turned round, walks on,And turns no more his head,Because he knows a frightful fiendDoth close behind him tread."
"And having once turned round, walks on,And turns no more his head,Because he knows a frightful fiendDoth close behind him tread."
"And having once turned round, walks on,And turns no more his head,Because he knows a frightful fiendDoth close behind him tread."
"And having once turned round, walks on,And turns no more his head,Because he knows a frightful fiendDoth close behind him tread."
"And having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head,
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread."
Ancient Mariner.
Howeverhighly Mr. Sheridan's intellectual faculties might be rated by foreign philosophers, and correspondingsavants, yet, like the typical prophet, he had no honour in his own country, and was credited by the most lenient, with wanting at least one day in the week! Even Andy All Right (who was dimly conscious of his own deficiencies), hadmore than once been heard to draw comparisons between himself and his master, which were by no means to the latter's advantage.
Helen saw but little of her uncle; indeed, only on those rare occasions, when he joined his family at dinner, and during that meal, he rarely opened his lips, save for the purpose of swallowing food, his attention was wholly absorbed by some object not present, that monopolized all his thoughts. Now and then he would pause, lay down his knife and fork, lean back in his chair, and meditatively comb his beard with somewhat inky fingers, sometimes he would suddenly catch fire at a passing remark, and use it as a text for an unexpected and eloquent lecture on astronomy, biology, philosophy, or even hydrophobia; he had an excellent and intelligent listener in his niece, who followed him patiently through all the mazes of his varied subjects, anxiously endeavouring to glean information for the benefit of herself and her pupils; (and what she could not comprehend, from its being enclosed in a labyrinth of words, she modestly attributed to her own mental density). As Mr. Sheridan proceeded with his discourse, his voice gradually gained such force, his words came so rapidly and so opportunely, that he seemed to be completely transformed. As he warmed to his subject, he would start from his seat, his dark eyes flashing, his weird hands waving, he looked more like an impassioned Druid, invoking his countrymen to war, and human sacrifices, than a modern paterfamilias, presiding at a frugal domestic meal. Then, as suddenly as it had kindled, the fire would expire, he would pause abruptly, sigh, and presently push back his chair, and steal noiselessly from the room.
He lived altogether in the tower, behind barred and bolted doors, and through which Dido and Biddy had the soleentrée, and there,—secure against interruption, or indiscreet investigation,—he carried on some mysterious undertaking, to which he gave the rather vague name of "scientific research." But loud explosive sounds, odours (not of Araby), and dense volumes of smoke, were the only outward symptoms of his industry.
During all the summer months every one at Crowmore pursued the even tenour of their way, with uneventful regularity. Larry drove the red car, and made surreptitious love to Sally, the "Fancy" clamoured at the Cross, Darby continued to plunder his master, and that master remained shut up in his fastness, throwing away time, and money, with both hands.
Helen was an adaptable girl, and was now as much at home at the Castle, as if she had lived there for years: she had completely regained her health, and spirits, and was as full of life and energy as the indefatigable Dido. She toiled in the garden with unremitting industry, and took as profound an interest in the weekly "cart," and the result of Sally's "day," as did her cousins themselves. She had learnt how to make butter, to bandy blarney with her relatives, to baffle Barry's compliments, and, the greatest feat of all,—elude Mr. Redmond's cross-examinations.
By the middle of August, the bushes in the garden were bent down with fruit, and many and many an hour, the three girls spent picking strawberries, currants, and gooseberries for the public market, or for private sale. Time passed merrily enough in songs, stories, jokes, and riddles, but no story, song, or riddle, had half as much interest for the Misses Sheridan as their cousin's experiences at Port Blair! This topic afforded inexhaustible entertainment to these two county mice; over and over again Helen was called upon to recount her arrival, her first impressions, to describe boating, shelling, and picnic parties. Indeed, after a time Dido and Katie said they were perfectly familiar with the appearance of every one in the settlement, and declared that they almost felt as if they had been in the islands themselves! Strange to say, that in the midst of all her glowing descriptions of people and places, Helen never once let fall the name ofLisle. It was—had her simple cousins but known—like the play of "Hamlet," without the Prince of Denmark. She gave spirited representations of Mrs. Creery, and mimicked Lizzie Caggett's screech, and Apollo's languid drawl. She had an extraordinary faculty (I will not say talent) for such imitations, a faculty that had been inflexibly nipped in the bud at school, anaccomplishment that she doubtless inherited from her versatile Greek mother. Who would have guessed that, at a moment's notice, pretty Miss Denis, could take off the voice, laugh, and demure manner of any specified acquaintance? She had never practised this art till now, when she discovered that a few such illustrations, brightened up her narrative, and threw her audience into ecstasies of delight.—Helen was undoubtedly an unusually clever girl, when she could thus infuse interest, amusement, life and romance into a story—and yet omit the hero!
One evening, after early tea, the three girls were busy in the garden, sitting on little three-legged stools, among a thicket of bushes, picking raspberries into a huge tin can, when Helen—whose thoughts were sharpened by her cousins' grinding poverty, their unremitting endeavours to make both ends meet, and their father's apathetic seclusion—said suddenly,—
"Don't think me a Paul Pry, Dido; but do tell me what uncle is doing.—Is he writing a book?"
"No; not now.—Hehaswritten several splendid pamphlets on gravitation, and about a dozen on wind; there are thousands of them upstairs; they did not sell; they were above the average intellect; indeed, I could not understand them myself. But then, I'm not clever!"
"Yes, you are, Dido," said her cousin decidedly. "You are a first-rate musician, a capital German scholar. I wish I had half your brains!"
"That is nonsense, my dear——"
"Papa has invented no end of wonderful things," interrupted Katie proudly.
Helen looked up expectantly, and Dido answered,—
"Yes; little machines for measuring and weighing air; but, unfortunately, his most remarkable contrivances have all been discovered before!"
"And what is he doing now?"
"He is constructing an apparatus that is to be the marvel of the age. It is to be an overwhelming success. A surprise to humanity; but I do not know what it is!"
"Can you not guess?"
Dido shook her head gravely, and Katie burst out, "Poor papa is outof his element here. When we were children—indeed, till Dido was sixteen—we lived in Germany, as you know, at a cheap little place, called Kraut, and the Padré had plenty of congenial society, and made many literary friends, who profess a great interest in his work still. He takes them into his confidence. They know all about it.—They often write to him——"
"To ask for money," appended Dido bitterly. "They are not realsavantsand inventors, and great literary lights, as papa fancies—at least, I don't think they are. Certainly, some of our neighbours at Kraut were clever, intellectual people, but others, whom papa picked up in the train, or in the gardens, or the street, it's my opinion they were all impostors. You remember the man from Baden, Katie; you remember the Pole; you remember the Italian who——"
"Don't talk of them!" cried her sister impatiently. "They were all swindlers and thieves!"
"And still papa has faith in strangers!" continued Dido. "A man has only to claim him as a brother inventor, and say he is short of funds, and were he making an instrument to bray like an ass, the Padré would send him a cheque for fifty pounds.—And yet he grudges himself a pair of slippers, and says he can't afford a door-knocker! I've no patience with these hateful foreign harpies!" she concluded, tossing a handful of fruit into the general receptacle, and rising as she spoke. "This can is nearly full," she added; "you two can finish it without me, and I must go in and weigh the strawberries." So saying, she tucked her stool under her arm, pushed her way through the bushes, and vanished.
"Dido is vexed," exclaimed her sister, looking straight at Helen; "and indeed it is trying sometimes, to think that while she works so hard to earn a few shillings, the Padré sends away hundreds of pounds to any person who chooses to write him flattering begging letters! And he spends a fortune on books—expensive scientific works. He orders whole boxes full; and when they come he never even opens them! There are a dozen great cases, all mouldering, out in the coach-house. When mamma was alive she kept some of the money; and she and the old stewardmanaged pretty well. After they died there was no one—for of course the Padré could not have his mind disturbed about pigs and grazing stock. After a time he took a great fancy to Darby; and Darby and Dido do their best—and very bad it is! Barry wanted to manage the property, but papa was furious at the bare notion! I myself, think it would have been a good plan, but Dido set her face against it; and when she does that you may give up your point. You have no idea how poor we are, Helen."
Helen thought she had some glimmering idea—they could not be poorer than she was!!! her uncle having borrowed all her earnings, (with the exception of a few shillings), shortly after her arrival.
"What becomes of the rent?" she asked.
"Oh, I don't know! It's paid to papa."
"And the money for the grazing?"
"Is paid to him also," admitted Katie reluctantly.
"And what has uncle done with his time all these years?" she asked impatiently.
"Rome was not built in a day," rejoined Katie rather confusedly. "I believe he is making something marvellous, and that it is nearly completed. Of course we are pinched now, but we shall be rich some day. I don't grumble, neither does Dido; for we believe the Padré will be the great man of the age, and that in years to come, we shall be known as the daughters of the celebrated Malachi Sheridan!"
Helen noticed, (not for the first time) that Katie generally talked fluently of her father in her sister's absence; indeed Dido rarely alluded to him; on the contrary, she would turn the subject rather abruptly, when it touched upon him or his pursuits.
"Dido is not quite so sanguine as she used to be," said Katie, slowly filtering a handful of fruit through her fingers. "She has never been the same, since the Padré sent away Mr. Halliday,—her lover."
"Her lover! Dido's lover!" ejaculated Helen.
"Yes! don't say I told you, but she had one once. She did not meet himhere, so you need not stare."
"Perhaps she may not like you to tell me any more—so pleasedon't," entreated Helen, with extraordinary self-denial.
"Oh, it's no matter!—it's no secret, the Reids and every one know all about it. It happened two years ago. After papa's long illness—Dido was completely worn out with nursing him, and the doctor said she must have a change to the seaside—and as the Rectory people were going to Portrush she went with them, and was away for two months—it was there she met him. He had some appointment in India, and was only on six months' leave. She came home looking quite beautiful—even Barry remarked it—and she was engaged to Mr. Halliday—providing papa made no objection. He wrote to the Padré, a very nice letter I believe, and what do you think the Padré did? he tore it up into little bits, enclosed it in an envelope, and sent it back by the next post!"
"Oh!" groaned Helen, "how frightful! and was Mr. Halliday nice?"
"Verynice.—Of course I don't go by Dido,—but the Reids were enchanted with him. He came here, nothing daunted, and insisted on papa giving him an audience. I was out—just my luck—but Biddy told me they were shut up in the drawing-room for an hour, and that she heard the Padré roaring and raving like all the bulls of Bashan. At last Mr. Halliday came out, looking very white and queer; he had a long interview with Dido,—and then he went away. Poor Dido, how she used to cry at night! She told me that Mr. Halliday wanted her to marry him right off, without papa's consent; as there was nothing against him, and he was ready to take her out to India then and there and give her a happy home, and she said she would have gone—only for one reason——"
"And what was that?"
"I've been trying to find out for two years, and never discovered it yet."
"I wonder what it could have been?" said Helen, musingly—"want of money?"
"No! I'm sure it was not that, Mr. Halliday is rich. I've tried to guess it, and I've given it up at last as a bad job."
"And so," said Helen to herself, "her merry, lively cousin Dido—whose wit and spirits rarely failed her—had had what Katie would call 'a disappointment,' too!"
"This can is quite full, so come along," said that young lady, rising with joyous activity. "Thank goodness, these are the last of these odious raspberries for this year."
The two girls had locked the garden gate, and were crossing the yard, carrying the can of fruit between them, when they were nearly knocked down, by Sally and Andy, who came running frantically in an opposite direction, and without the smallest apology dashed through the back door, which they slammed loudly after them. Prompted by very excusable curiosity, the spectators followed by the same entrance, and discovered Andy in the middle of the kitchen, looking as if his wits had entirely departed, and Sally wiping the perspiration from her face with the corner of her apron, and loudly expounding some terrible experience to Dido and her aunt.
"Oh, save us and send us, Miss Katie!" she exclaimed as she entered, "I'm after seeing the frightfullest thing that walks above ground! It was ayther an evil sperrit or the ould wan himself! Oh, musha, musha, I never get such a turn in mee life! Oh, Andy, darlin', what did we ever do to bring such a thing about us?"
But Andy was utterly incapable of making any reply, and stood trembling, and open-mouthed, in the middle of the floor.
"But whatwasit?" demanded Helen, approaching the table and laying down the can.
"Well then, miss, I'll just describe it, and I'll lave it to yourself to put a name on it. Andy and me was down at the far croft, looking at a sick cow, and were coming home, thinking of nothing in the world, when all at wanst, I saw within two perch of me, what I thought was a tree walkin'. I nudged Andy, and we both looked, and sure enough, there it was, as plain as plain, with big wings reaching down each side, and a long tail trailing after it;" here she was so overcome by the bare recollection, that she was obliged to stop and gasp for breath, and once more apply her apron to her countenance.
"Well, miss, it went by quietly, within about the length of this kitchen of us,—and never passed no remark, so we just took to our heels, and ran for the dear life, and small blame to us. And now, Miss Dido, av I was to be hung in diamonds, I will never set foot outside the yard after dark!" she concluded with a whimper.
"Sally, I wonder at you!" exclaimed Helen, "I'llput a name to it, fast enough—it was the mule you saw! In the dark he looked larger than usual, his ears were the wings—they are big enough for anything—his tail—was just his tail!"
"Ah now, Miss Helen, get out with your jokes! Is it the mule I'm driving these eight year, and me not know him? Any way, I saw him in the harness room as I went out—it was never the mule, it was ayther Dillon in another form—or——" here she paused significantly, and left her listeners to complete the sentence for themselves.
The next evening, Helen was sitting out under a hay-cock, after tea, reading a venerable magazine. She had had a very fatiguing day, and overcome by the sultry, drowsy air, she fell fast asleep.—After a pleasant little doze, she awoke with a guilty start, and discovered that the stars were out, and the midges had gone in, that the air had become chill,—and that she had been asleep. Somewhat ashamed of herself, she rose, picked up her book, replaced her hat, and was turning towards the house, when a curious trailing, whirring noise on the grass, arrested her attention. Glancing behind her, she beheld what seemed to be a colossal, winged figure, pacing the sward within ten yards of her recent nest. A figure somewhat resembling old Father Time, with pinions which rose and fell, expanded, or collapsed at will. She stood and stared, in blank bewilderment. The creature, like a gorged vulture, appeared to be making futile efforts to rise from the ground and fly! but, in spite of its exertions, and violent, almost passionate flapping of its wings, it still remained a prisoner to mother earth.Whatwas it? Was it as Sally had suggested? Her heart stood still, for she now beheld it moving towards her! she felt her knees giving way beneath her,—her hair rising on her forehead; she leant against thehay-cock for support, and tightly closed her eyes. Hearing no sound for the space of a minute, she ventured to open them once more, and it was nowhere to be seen. Seizing this opportunity, she flew across the lawn, and darted into the candle-lit, ever-open hall, from thence into the dining room, where she sank into the nearest chair, gasping for breath. She had barely recovered the power of speech, and was about to explain her condition to her astonished cousins, when the door opened gently, and her uncle came into the room; he stood near the table, and looking at her fixedly with his coal-black eyes, said, in his usual slow way,—
"I'm afraid I alarmed you somewhat, niece—you saw me just now trying the apparatus."
Helen gazed at him blankly, unable to utter a word.
"You look quite foolishly startled; but come with me, and you shall be completely reassured. Dido and Katie," addressing his daughters, "rise and follow me, my children, and behold with your own eyes the fruit of my labours!"