COPYRIGHT STORY. THERESA’S TWO FORTUNES

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLI, Issue 18, 28 October 1908, Page 54

COPYRIGHT STORY. THERESA’S TWO FORTUNES

By

JANE BARLOW

Author of "Bogland Studies; Etc.

I ARTIN BYRNE wished to goodness that the young rapscallion had kept out of Clonowen; he might have gone anywhere else

w at all, so long as he had done that; and in this wish several of Maritin’s neighbours shared. The object of it was Toni Clancy, who had lately come to stay with his great aunt, old Mrs. (Finny, up at Knockree. If you said that Tom was good-looking and pleasant mannered, you mentioned all his best qualities; but the worst of them was that they were of a sort which will often dispose people to credit their possessor with «i variety of other merits, wherein he may be entirely deficient. And amongst those who entertained such a delusion about Tom Clancy Was Martin Byrne's only sister Theresa. This, for every reason, was a great annoyance to Martin. ’Ever since their pa rents’ death he had been managing Theresa's affairs, which had prospered so wellunder his six year's guardianship that the few head of cattle

originally left to her for her portion, were now quite a goodly herd, worth near a couple of hundred pounds on any (market day. Moreover, he had every penny of the profits which’ had accrued from the milk, and button and sOld-off calves put up for her in the Ballyraheen Bank. So ..that Theresa was a really Considerable heiress, fully entitled to have a brilliant inatfti made for her

among the well-to-do bachelors of the neighbourhood.

Now. to such an alliance. Martin had ■long looked forward with satisfaction and confidence, the other party to it being is friend Fergus Moore, of Mangans" town. Fergus was a thriving farmer, and a very decent man. The latter consideration weighed heavily with Martin, for he did not at all approve the plan of ftppraising a husband’s merits solely by the amount’* of his worldly gear. ’’Much good.” he used to reflect.’ ’ a girl *ud get of a bit of land, and a bit of stock, if there was to be some il l-cpndit ioncd, drunken young reprobate, or some crosstempered ould naygur. walkin’ in and <>ut of her house all the days of her lite. fShe’d l>e better stopping where she is.”

Nor was be indifferent to the fact that Hi is sister ami his friend were well inclined towards one another. “For,” as he reflected again, ‘‘there’s some good enough things 1 never could abide the (thoughts of myself. Parsnips, now, is no harm for anybody that likes them, ibut 1 wouldn’t be aitin’ them for (sixpence a bite. And it might aisy ha’ hap£>int that way wid them two, only it didn't be good luck. Sure Fergus thinks £Lere isn’t the like of her in the King<loni of Connaught; and Theresa was friendly wid him ever since she could run on her feet.” As affairs were in It his propitious slate at a time when Theresa was going on for nineteen, and F'hen Martin Byrne had l»egun to think about Rose MeGowran in a way which >nade it appear all the more desirable that his sinter should be provided with ft house of her own, everything tended Inwards the speedy making up of one inatch at least.

Therefore no cow’s horn certainly can ever have been crookeder than was the Chance .that must needs bring Torn Clancy •just then into the parish of Clonowen. .Keenly and quickly did Martin rue it, for he noticed, or fancied that he noticed, from the very first appearance of the now comer at Mass, a tendency on Theresa’s part to look down on Fergus 4Moore. to flout him to his face, and beBlind his back to apeak of him disparagingly. And the cause of this untoward change soon became evident. It was

Christmas time, when a round of festivities among the neighbours gave the young folk opportunities for making the acquaintance of old Mrs. Finny’s greatnephew; and on these occasions Theresa clearly showed her readiness to accept the attentions of the handsome stranger, who offered them with more than equal readiness to the most handsomely dowered girl in his company. Of these things Martin Byrne was a profoundly dissatisfied spectator, for they seemed to threaten him with a most undesirable brother-in-law. Tom Clancy was not only poor but a ne’er-do-weel, and a loafer, if not something more reprehensible. Kilkearns, where he had been living in an uncle's household, was not so far from Clonowen, but that certain rumours had travelled thither. There could be no doubt that he had quitted Kilkearns under a cloud, which involved his character for honesty. The fact was that the coming to light of some underhand transactions

wit'n respect to the sale of hay at Moynes fair had been tire immediate cause of his departure. “So now,” Martin said to himself, “ me fine gentleman's landed here to get what he can out of his unlucky ould aunt, that has little enough. But if he thinks to be gettiu' a hold of Theresa, and her fortune as well, let me tel! the young scamp lie’s' mistook, for as long as I have con-

ihrol of them anyway, and that ill be till she comes of age—better than two year Off yet. Agin that time, plase the pigs, she might git a thritle more wit than to be fakin' up wid a fellow who hasn't a penny to his name, unless by raison of some schemin’ tbricks." After a while Martin did take leave to hint at this determination to Theresa, and also to a third person, who would, lie considered, probably pass it on to young Clancy. The result was, he thought, satisfactory, for he observed that Tom and Theresa became 'thenceforth less demonstrative in their manner t none another. Yet notwithstanding his favourable inferences, a more acute spectator might have doubted whether his communication had in reality proved as efficacious as he supposed in averting the ]X‘i'il of an imprudent marriage from his sister, and of a disappointment from his friend.

One bright, soft-aired April afternoon, Theresa Byrne was standing in the cowlane, and looking over the wooden gate into a very green, long-shaped field, where cattle were grazing. With her was a girl of about her own age. smaller, slimmer, and prettier, as she might rather easily be, for Theresa’s broad, fresh-coloured face had in truth no pretensions to any especial beauty. Likewise the other wore her dark hair elaborately puffed and waved, and was clad in much frilled and fur-belowed pink; while Theresa’s light-brown locks were t wisted up in any way. except a becoming one, and a coarse linen bib covered her plain bluish calico. This companion of hers waas Fanny Fitzgibbon, the eldest of the village schoolmaster's many children, and an old acquaintance of Theresa’s.

The two girls stood for a while silently watching the beasts at their leisurely and perpetual repast. Several glossy black Kerries, a couple of pretty strawberry cows, and of sedate shorthorns, with one delicate fawn-coloured Alderney heifer, and sundry promising calves made up a herd which no farmer need have scorned to put on his land. “Sure, it’s well to be you, Theresa,” Fanny said at last, “Grand tiiey are. But if it was me that owned them, or

the worth of them, it’s not much longer I’d be stoppin’ in this little doleful place, ’deed I wouldn’t.”

“Well mow, Fanny,” said Theresa, “it’s just the other way round with me; for if it wasn’t only for them, I'm thinkin’ I’d have a better chance of gettin’ out of this,”

“And what might be the raison of that at all?” said Fanny. “They’re the plague of me life,” Theresa declared. “Many’s the time I hate the sight of them, when Martin does be blatherin’ about the short step down this road that’s the farthest way he’ll need to drive them one of these days. It's my belief he thinks all he has to do is to be drivin’ them, and myself off after them, wherever he and the other folk take the notion into their heads. But if it wasn’t be raison of them, I might go where I liked for aught he’d care, and along wid —” She broke off abruptly, looking somehow not reluctant to be urged to continue. - ’ '

“If I was you,” said Fanny, “I’d be very apt just to sell the whole of them diver, and clane out of that, and get the bit of money when you want it, instead of to have them streelin’ about in the field there, and no manner of good to von. only harm.'’

“But they don't rightly belong to mo till I’m over one-and-twenty, another couple of years yet. and that’s the worst of it,” said Theresa, “Sure, what matter?” said Fanny. “Once you’d got the price of them in your pocket, there -you’d be, and off you might go as soon as you plased. Couldn’t you find some respectable, knowledgeable man who’d undertake the job of sellin’ them for you at one of the cattle fairs? Unbeknownst to your brother, of course. That’s what I'd do.”

Though Theresa only replied disconsolately: “It’s aisy talkin',” she was evidently struck by the suggestion, and seemed, Fanny thought, to be meditating deeply about something, when they soon afterwards parted at the end of the cowlane. On her homeward way whom should Fanny meet but Tom Clancy', and what should they stop to discuss but the sale of Fanny Byrne’s cattle? No doubt they both had her interests much at heart.

By' this time Tom had become 'very thoroughly' tired of his residence at Clonowen. There was little, he found, beyond merely- board and lodging to be had in his old great-aunt’s povertystricken establishment, and lack of opportunity- alone kept him from seeking more comfortable and profitable quarters. As he considered the question of ways and means, two things impressed themselves strongly and clearly- upon his mind. The first was the easiness of winning Theresa Byrne; the second, the

difficulty of coming by her cattle; and they were what he wanted. In point of fact, though he would rather have had both conjointly than neither, he would vastly have preferred to acquire the latter separately. This, however, seemed at the outset altogether impossible, and would pejinips have remained so, had he not made the acquaintance of , Fanny Fitzgibbon, whose pretty- face Set his tolerably keen wits working busily, while her own were nimble and full of resource.

Not many days after Fanny’s visit Theresa had a long interview with Tom Clancy in his great-aunt’s kitchen. Deaf Mrs. Finny could be hardly more than a spectator, and when her guest took leave said;

‘"Ah, my dear, if talkin’ could cure the crathur, ye should have it well mended between you; but ’tis past prayin’ for I’m afeard entirely-.” For she had gathered from fragments of sentences which had reached her that their discourse Was about the serious indisposition of one Of her calves. The subject under discussion was, however, far more important, and Theresa returned home pledged to a large and daring enterprise.-- Tom had pointed out to her that as there was absolutely no prospect of obtaining -her brother’s consent to their wishes, and as he could by law keep her fortune in his hands for the next two years, through a stratagem only could she hope to gain immediate possession of what was by rights her own property-. Theresa having assented to this, Tom proceeded to unfold, partially at least, a carefully thought out plan, and aS she listened while he glibly explained his various arrangements, she felt both pleased and proud at the notion that he should have taken so much trouble to devise such ingenious expedients, all just for the sake of herself. It was in a flutter of gratified vanity and admiration for his cleverness that she had agreed without demur to the carrying out of his design. Next week brought Easter, when, according to his custom. Martin Byrne set off on a few days' excursion. He wsis very anxious that. Theresa should accompany- him, but she, in pursuance of her plans, declared herself engaged to spend, the holidays with her cousins at neighbouring Kathkelly, and on the Sunday afternoon, not without some remorseful misgivings, she saw him start half-dis-appointed. For she knew that she was bidding him a farewell much longer than he supposed, and that she intended a journey immensely further than to Rathkelly. Very early on the Monday morning Theresa packed as much as she could carry in a hand-bag and a bundle, and set out, ostensibly to meet the long-car for Kathkelly at the cross-roads. The dew still lay dim and white as she went down the cow-lane, for the sun was only

just rising. When she came to the gate of the sloping pasture, she stopped and looked over it; not a beast was to be seen. This was exactly what she had expected. Had she not slipped out late overnight, and unlocked all the padlocks, so that Tom Clancy might drive off her cattle through the dark to sell at the big Easter fair of Rusheenmoc ? The herd ■were there, she supposed by now, and Tom would lose no time in making his bargains. He was to meet her at Gartille, the railway station nearest to Rusheenmoe, whence they would travel south to Queenstown, get married there, and go On board a transatlantic liner. With the price of that herd they would be able to ‘make a grand start in the States. “And after a bit, you know, you can come down on your tjrother for the rest of what’s owin’ to you,” Tom said. “Not that it’s apt to be much to us here or there,” he added magnificently. As Theresa turned away from the gate, a long and rosy ray came slanted down the lane, and set all the hanging dewdrops ablaze, as if some unearthly jewel-casket had been emptied over the hedges. She felt quite confident that she was faring to the highest fortune. But a change crept over her frame of mind as she waited and waited on the platform at the dreary little Garville station. It began when the ten o’clock train, in which Tem had promised to come, arrived without any such passenger; and from thence forward her spirits were continually to sink. They dropped to a lower level with each train that went by, some rushing through in a dusty whirlwind, some stopping to give ■her a few minutes of agonised suspense, ■ending always in dismayed disappointment, for not one brought sight or sign of Tom Clancy. At last, when the afternoon was fast wearing away, she resolved in desperation, to return home, whereupon she quitted her dismal waitingplace, sure that she would evermore hate the sight of it, and especially of the stolid stationmaster and inquisitive porter. The best chance that she could conjecture to encourage herself on her discomfited retreat, was that some trivial accident had for the time being vexatiously hindered Tom from carrying out his intentions; but her imagination would not forbear to conjure up occurrences far more alarming than these. It struck her - that his possession of her cattle might have got him into some terrible trouble with the police authorities, from whose clutches her own testimony perhaps alone would extricate him, and the thought made her fret at the slow pace of her long, tedious drive and walk.

Hurry as she would the dusk had almost ebbed away when she turned into the cow-lane, dragging herself wearily along betw’een the hedges, weighed down by her heavy bag, which she had ten minds to fling into a ditch, and distracted with a thousand fears, which she could by no possibility discard. The faet that she had eaten nothing all day unawares added to her despondency. She hardly knew what she wished or dreaded to behold, when the gate of the sloping field should be in sight. But undoubtedly a wild hope did flare up yhen she came into view of a tall figure standing by the wooden bars, and for a moment believed that it was Tom Claney. And undoubtedly, too, terror seized her as, drawing nearer, she recognised Fergus Moore. He stood .beside the fawn-col-oured Alderney, which was eating out of

a pail, while a white cow thrust her head over the gate to survey the repast with an expression of convent rated bitterness. Several other beasts were dimlier visible, moving about in the grey dusk beyond the gate. The munching of the cow elose at hand for a while screened from Fergus the sound of Teresa’s footsteps, but at length he heard them, and looked up to see her slowly approaching. He went forward quickly to meet her, with an expression of relieved concern on his broad goodnatured face, russet - beared and blueeyed than which nothing could less resemble Tom Clancy’s. Theresa felt vaguely as if, after her endless, miserable day, she had reached some sort of refuge.

"Well, Theresa, and is it yourself?” Fergus said. “Glad I am to see you back again anyhow. But it’s the quare work altogether there’s been agoin’ on here; and wonderin’ I was did you know anythin’ about the matter. It’s more than Martin does, that’s sure.”

"About what matter?” Theresa said, with as much show of indifference as sne eould achieve, which was little

enough. “Your bastes,” said Fergus. “Sure now ne’er a notion you had to be soilin' them ?”

Theresa said neither yea or nay, and he did not repeat his question, seeing that her silence had indeed answered it very effectually. But he made no comment.

“It so happened,” he continued, after a brief pause, "that I had to be in Rusheenmoe this mornin’ early to meet a' man on business. I wasn’t at that fair these half dozen 1 years; ’tis mostly no great good. Howane’er, there I went today, and I wasn’t in it above ten minutes when who should I see but Terry Molloy, of Garville, that’s a notorious ould v.illin’, and he just startin’ to drive a herd of bastes off the other end of the green. So says I to meself: ‘lt’s quare now if I don’t know the look of them.’ And when I stepped over to him, sure enough, divil aught else were they except these crathurs of yours—every single one of them. After buyin’ them ould Molloy said he was off a young chap, he couldn’t tell who he might be; a middlin’ big man wid black hair. But wid that Jimmy Carr, from French Market, was standin’ by, and he up and says he himself passed them on the road drivin’ in, and Tom Clancy it was, ould Widdy Finny’s nephew. And he said that more betoken only a little while baek he seen young Claney below at the station, gettin’ into the Queenstown express along wid Fanny Fitzgibbon, the schoolteacher’s daughter at Clonowen—” "Fanny Fitzgibbon,” Theresa said, half under - her breath, “it couldn’t ever be.” Yet as she spoke the world seemed swaying into ruin around her, and here and there amid the wreck emerged remembered incidents, which now wore a treacherous aspect. Fergus Moore was observing her intently. The scared and bewjldered anger . in her face, her fagged air, and heavy load of bulging bag and cumbrous bundle of wraps, the mortified despair betrayed by her would-be incredulous exclamation, all confirmed a suspicion originally very strong.

"The two of them it was,” he said. “Mrs. Dockrell was tellin’ me the same thing afterwards. But we can aisy stop the young thief yet, Theresa, wid a wire to the Queenstown police, for I see

on the paper there's no American boat sailin’ till Wednesday, and that's what they’ll be makin’ for, you may depiud—himself and the price of your bastes. I’ll go straight to the office.” “Oeh. for mercy’s sake, don’t be doin’ any such a thing,” Theresa said aghast. The mere suggestion appalled her, so intolerable was the possibility of Tom's return to make her the laughing stock of the gossiping country - side. Even now she raged at the thought of her humiliating wait on the Garville platform. Well did she remember the sight of the Queenstown express running through the station, and she reflected with sore chagrin that two of its passengers had probably caught a glimpse of her sitting there by herself on the bench. Somebody had fluttered a handkerchief out of a carriage window; very likely Fanny Fitzgibbon had done it in derision, with Tom Clancy chuckling at her side. Theresa felt that rather than ever set eyes on the pair, or hear talk of them again, she would lose her fortune ten times over. If the money went to the bottom of the sea with them it would be all the better; but at this moment her own intense desire was that nothing should interfere with their departure. So she vehemently and imploringly repeated: “Don’t be doin’ any such a thing on me, Fergus. Let them quit out of it, let them go wherever they like, and don’t be delayin’ them.” Fergus looked at her gravely. "Then it’s the way I was supposin,” he said, "and thinkin’ you were to go off along wid Tom Clancy, he that’s took up instead wid Fanny Fitzgibbon, the little ugly-tempered weasel—many’s the time I’ve heard her scoldin’ and bargin’ at the other childer. Well, now, it was the quare notion for the likes of yourself to take into your head. But sure, Theresa, me child, it’s the quare notions we do all of us be bound to git a hold of now and agin, and the odd way we do be mistook about different things, till we have a thrifle of exparianee. I mind the time meself when I couldn’t scarce tell a three-year-old from a four-year-old, and ’nd be givin’ double the worth of him for a bullock as soon as look at him. But as for that young miscreant, sure what matter, so long as you hadn't the bad luck to thravel off wid him after all? He knew anyway better than you what was the right sort for him. Fanny Fitzgibbon, bedad! And if it was to be annoyin’ you, sooner than bring him baek I’d let him run the farthest he pleased wid the money he’s robbed off you in his pocket. By the same token I know right well from what ould Molloy gave me the bastes for that he suspicioned there was somethin’ quare goin’ on, and that he got them very raisonable off the young rogue. Faix, if the poor crathurs had the wit, they might be none too continted wid the bad price was paid for them twice over this day. For you see, Theresa asthore, they're bought baek again for you the very same as they were, and no more bother about thim; and if anybody thinks to be passin’ remarks, why there the whole of them are grazin’ before our eyes, and who’d mind what he’d say? And apt you are to be takin’ better care that your fortune isn’t made away wid a second time. But whatever you do, machree, don't be throublin’ yourself wid e’er a thought of them two, that’s not worth this tussock of ragweed. Sure you shouldn’t look the same side of the road as Tom Claney, not if his slieveen’s coat was double-lined

wid five iKHiiul notes—should you, nowT •—let alone cross-tempered Fanny Fitzgibbon.

Theresa nodded slightly. The calamity had already la-gun to seem less overwhelming. Wrath was a stimulant, and Fergus’ contemptuous mention of Fanny came to her feelings as balm. ‘•Ami a bit later on." Fergus continued, •’coinin’ towards Mic-naelnias, say, 1 Wonder might I lie axin’ you was there e’er a body else in it Ehat you wouldn’t think too bad of altogether. But I won't be delayin’ you now. for it’s tired you are streelin’ about, and if you’ll take my advice, you’ll just go in and wet yourself a cup of hot tay. and git a bit to ate. There’s a fire burnin’ 1 know, for I'm after makin’ free to heat some water to give this heifer of yours a mash, that’s had a dale of drivin’ forwards and backwards too. So good-night to you kindly, Theresa, and when I have it all locked up. I’ll hang the kays in the holly-bush by the stable-door.”

Theresa, turning away, took with her a consolatory remembrance of his words; and as she drank her warm tea by the kitchen hearth, in accordance with his advice, it seemed to her quite within the liounds of possibility that, she might furthermore take his hint about next Michaelmas.