(CHAPTER V.)

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXI, Issue 3, 4 November 1892, Page 23

(CHAPTER V.)

Martin Dfryer's prosperous neighbour was not a tenant-at-will, yet be too, on hearing of the step taken by the Hon Horatio, rubbed his hands gleefully and repeated the words, " By gad, I'm glad of this," so often that his wife looked at him with some surprise. " I thought," said Mrs Oormack, "yon had yonr mind made up 1" " Yes," he replied, " I'd go with my landlord. Bat I know what a cry would be raised against me." " Do yon think Father Feehan would have minded much ?" Mrs Oormack asked thoughtfully. Her husband shrugged bis shoulders, but made no reply. " He is such a friend of oars," sbe added, " and such an amiable man, I don't think he would be unreasonable. He did not seem very angry when you said you would make no promise." " Didn't he ?" rejoined Ned Cormack with another shrug. " I thought you were a closer observer." " Well, I'd be very sorry that he should fall out with ue," retnrned Mrs Oormack, " and it would be a great shock to Margaret and Alice, who have been such favourites with him. In fact, I'd almost rather ■cc you incur the displeasure of the landlord. What barm could he do you, as you have a lease ?" "Ah! I have laid out a great deal of money on this place," her husband replied. " You know I could only gel a twenty-one years' lease ; and only for the old house was going to fall, I'd never think of build- j ing with such a lease. Bat as you said yourself, when it should be done at all I might as well do it well." " The old house was very nice after all," she remarked. " Yes, for a picture " returned Ned Oormack, glancing at a sketch in water-colours that hang framed and glazed over the-chimney piece. " Yon made a very nice picture of it." But he looked back regretfully, for all that, to the early years of their married life which passed happily nnder the thatched roof, fully a yard deep, that lsoked so well in the picture ; the " first coat" of which had been grasped in the homey hand of the reaper, before Cromwell cast his eyes upon the ■lope where it grew, and pronounood Ireland " a country worth fighting for." Mrs CormacV, too, looked regretfully at the picture, and smiled as she remembered how her parasol used to come into contact with the eve, bringing down a shower of broken brown and black straw upon her. A bit of one of them was detected upon her bonnet in the chapel one Sunday by the lynx-eyed and satirical —though sensible and industrious—Miss Julia Flaherty, and she and same other young ladies were afterwards heard expressing their wonder how Ned Cormac's wife could " come in such style out of a cabin." But, as has been before indicated, the " whole country " was talking of the " style " of the young bride from Cork, and her "gold chain " and the absolute oertainty of "breaking Ned Oormnck, horse and foot." All this " talking," however, was thrown away, for fortunately Mrs Cormack never heard a word of it. That extraordinary young woman amazed and indeed frightened Molly Manogue by telling her one day, just as Molly was coming to the kernel of a toothsome bit of gossip, that she "did not like story-telling." This was a staggerer. But the piano I That quite knocked the breath out of social criticism, so far as Mrs Cormack was concerned. Tnere was a general stare of incredulous aston'shment, a lifting of the hands, and a turning up of the whites of the eyeß when Molly Manogaa announced the arrival of the piano ; and henceforward Ned Coimack's wife was looked upon as a privileged person who might do jast what she liked —drive in a coach-and-four over Corriglea Bridge, for instance, or invi'e Lady Oakdale to an evening party —without exacting the least surprise or calling forth remark or comment other than complimentary, even from Miss Julia Flaherty and her particular friends. It must, howtver be borne in mind that at the time of Ned Cor mack's marriage, the parson's daughter was the possessor of a piano —not the envied possessor, people would as soon have thought of envying an angel for having wings—of the only stringed instrument in the whole parish ; of course, excepting fiddles, which were more numerous than they have ever been .since. We were going also to except a guitar, the property of an old lady, the widow of a Waterloo officer. But that had long ceased to come under the category of stringed instruments —ever since the veteran, during his last attack of gout, brought it into collision with his physician's head, for hazarding the opinion that the famous phrase, "Up Guards and at them," belonged to the region of fiction rather than that of history. Both the doctor and the guitar were silenced; the one for the time being, and on subjects having reference to the Battle of Waterloo ; the other for ever. But the " soul of music " which was knocked out of the guitar seemed to have been knocked into the cranium, for the doctor for many years after was troubled with a singing in the head. At least in the matter of music we have been making wonderful progress those dozen years yast. Only the other day a yoaDg friends at oar request, counted no less than 22 pianos within the boundarie,

of the parish. Bat we mußt confess that the gratification afforded as by tfaese statistics was modified considerably by the farther information, incidentally added, that the 22 pianos were •• All out of tune." We learn, however, that a movement has been set on foot by the dispensary doctor to secure the the occasional ser?iceß of a toner from the country town. And from our personal knowledge o the doctor's popularity and energy — and bearing in mind the intrinsic goodness of the cause he advocates — we venture to predict that harmony will reign from end to end of oar parish lomg before the Phooka takes his next annual gallop over the summits of the surrounding hills. Cynical people may ascribe the harmonious revolution just chronicled to an unhealthy haukering after " gentility " ; but we are satisfied that a genuine love of music has been at the bottom of it. Nor is this love of music confined to the f air performers themselves. The Scotch agriculturist who would only consent to his daughter's get i ing a piano, on the express condition that she should " do her practising while he was about the farm," ha? not had a single imitator in the whole parish ot Shaonacloagh. Thoagb perhaps the " practising" is sometimes most agreeable when softened by distance, and listened to in the intervals of a shan-nachus with an old neighbour, from the kitchen chimney-corner. And doubtless " the concord of sweet sounds " with which at such moments the bucolic soul is "moved," loses nothing of its sweetness from the reflection that it in no way interferes with the more serious domestic duties. " I never filled so many firkins as since I bought the piano for my daughter," a thriving farmer was heard to soliloquize in the market-house a week or two ago while his eyes dwelt complacently upon the "butter ticket." "A little education, after all, doesn't do the least harm to a girl," be added, as he pat the ticket into his pocket. Bat better still, the humblest horne — even the hearth of the poor labouring-man — is vocal with the sweetest music below the stars— Irish children's voices attuned to the melodies of their own land of song. ***** After a silence of some minutes, during whioh both Mr Oormack and his wife unconsciously continued to gaze upon the picture over the chimney-piece, the latter said :— " I am very glad you are not to ba troubled about your vote," She took the silver thimble from her finger iand laid it in its place in the work-box on the table beside her, and waited to see whether her husband happened to be in a very conversational mood. It was evident she had something particular to speak about, but did not wish to introduce it too abruptly. "It is strange," she remarked, closing the ltd of the work-box noisily, " that Father Feehan should be so anxious for the return of men like this young O' Mulligan, who only want to get places, or something, for themselves." " And their friends," said her husband with a smile, in which there was more than a suspicion of sarcasm. "Do you think," she asked — evidently apropos of the last remark—" do you think does Mr O'Koeffe mean anything particular by coming here so often lately ? " " Yes," was the reply ; " I have got a pretty broad hint of it." 11 And what do you think ?" " I don't like it 1" he answered almost harshly — drawing his little son, who was turning over the leaves of a pio.ture-book at the table, quickly towards him, and running his fingers through the boy's crisp auburn curls. "He is too deeply in debt." " I thought that was not his own fault, but his father's," said Mrs Cormack. 11 And what difference does that make when he is in debt ?" her husband asked with a look of surprise. " Oh, it makes a great difference," she replied. " Well, you are right," said Ned Cormack, looking admiringly at his wife , of whose clear good sense he was very proud. '• It does make a great difference. But he'd be expecting too much money." And Ned Cormack passed his band over bis little son's face, and pressed his curly bead against his waistcoat. Six or seven years before, Nei Cormack would have contemplated the possibility of Mr Robert O'Keeffe, of Cloonmore, becoming his son-in-law with more than satisfaction. But that little curly head leaning against his waistcoat was not in the world then. And since its coming — all unhoped for as it waa, a complete change had coma over the spirit of the father's dreams. To get his daughter well and respectably married was now a very secondary ambition with Nad Cormack, of Bockview, He began to think with dismay of that " big fortune " so of tea spoken of in connection with his handsome daughter ; and sometimes wished that she, like his first love, Ellen Dwyer, would go into a convent. " Well, what would you think of Mr Delahunty ?" Mrs Oormack asked after another interval of silence. "Mr Delahunty has plenty of money," cried little Eddy, "He gave Jerry a half-crown for holding his horse." " O Eddy I" exclaimed his mother, after exchanging a glance with her husband, " there is the young ass coming toward* the paling. He'll put his head in and crop some of the flowers. Bun oat and drive him away."

" He, too, is looking for money," Ned Oormack replied, when Eddy bad ran oat into the lawn, >( and besides, business men are bo uncertain. There are few of them now like your uncle." " That's true," replied Mrs Cormack. " Bat still you see it is business men who are purchasing estates everywhere." " Yes, bat what kind of business men 1 Men who began at the beginning, and lived over their shops till they had made tbeir fortunes. They did not commence with a country house and a carriage like Delahunty." "Oh, J must say," returned his wife, " that I'd be always uneasy if Margaret was married to him. He is too fond of display, and so is she, I could see that the carriage bad its effect upon her. But I fancy she'd prefer Mr O'Keeffe. He is really a very nice man ; and his being a ' gentleman ' goes a great way with Margaret. She is really quite ambitions, but I tblnk Alice is the very contrary." Mrs Oormack, as she spoke, turned her eyes towards the ivy-clad farmhome at the foot of the mountain, which at one time seemed to look down almost aobrntnily upon Ned Cormack's bumbl9 roof-tree, bnt never appeared homely, even compared with the modern mansion that had takeif th#>sl*ce of the old thatched house. And Martin Dwyer's farm-house had a great charm for Mrs Oormack. Bhe often walked with Dannie and Nellie in the orchard on summer evenings when the trees were in blossom, and liked to sit upon Mr Armstrong's rustic seat and contemplate her own handsome residence, which year by year wai growing into greener beauty, and putting off by degrees that look of bareness which at first displeased her — the while her two gracefal daughters walked up and down by the haiels on the river bank. Aod when Terry Hanraban, the apple-man, had taken up bis abode in the orchard house, and the eve apples and queenings were ripe, Mrs Cormack always came herself to make purchases and pluck tbe fruit with her own hand. And this ahe continued to do, up to November-eve, when , assisted by Tom Dwyer, she selected the winter supply, taking all tbe Nonpareilles — tbe right name of whicb Terry Hanrftban took pains to assure her was " Miss umberells." Yes, Mrs Cormack liked that old orchard, and bad a great liking also for young Tom Dwyer. Perhaps that was why she looked towards tbe orchard just now when Bhe remarked that ber younger daughter wag not ambitious like ber sister. It used to annoy her to see how little either of them seemed to appreciate Tom Dwyer. " Did you ever think of Tom Dwyer at all ?" she asked, turning to her husband, who was watching little Kddy driving the young ass away from the flowers. " I used to think of it," he replied. " His aunt would have liked it sc much. And it would be pleasant to have Margaret settled so near at. Bat there's no use in thinking of it now. The place is not fit for her." " It would be easy to make it fit for anybody," she replied . " Yes, if you only mean the.house. But how would it be with the family 7" he asked. " That's true," Mrs Cormack replied, with a shake of her head ; " I fear she could never get on with his mother. But if it was not for that, and if she really liked Tom, something tells me she'd be happier aa his wife than she'd be with any man I know. Don't you think there is something above the common in him ?" " He has stuff in him if be got a fair chance," Ned Cormack Teplied. " I'd be glad to give him a helping baud if I saw any way of serving him." Ned Cormack was not only considered " lucky " himself, but the cause of luck in others as well. It was remarked that the man he helped was always sure to prosper. Hut it was only « knowing few who were able to Bee that tbe help was only given to thoee who possessed the qualities that made success almost a certainty. 41 Why wouldn't you ask Ned Cormack to secure you, and get a hundred pounds from tbe bank, as he got for Dick Shea f" Mrs Dwyer persisted for a long time in dinning into her husband's ears— till at last Martin gave way and made the request. " No, Martin," said Ned Cormack firmly. " I'd be glad to serve you it I could ; but, take my word for it, I'd be only injuring you if I did what you ask me. " Poor Martin Dwyer couldn't see the matter in this light at all wild returned home thinking very hardly of his neighbour, who would be " leaving it all behind him " some day . Mrs Cormack was then very glad to hear her husband say he would wish to give Tom Dwyer a helping hand. It was a proof to her that Tom possessed worldly prudence in addition to the other good qualities with which she herself had always credited him. " 1 declare," said her husband, observing tbe bright, animated expression of her face at the moment, " yon look as young as ever you did. I am not surprised that strangers take you for your Manghter's sister. I mußt take care of myself or you will be formidable rival to them. I'd bet my life Tom Dwyer would prefer you to Margaret* But what do you really think about O'Keeffa ? " Before replying, she took a field-glass from the table and going to the window directed it towards tbe mountain. " Yes," she remarked, " I guessed it was Tom. He is leaning •gainst Oorrigdhoun. He seems to be rather given to loitering about lately. I thought you might set him down as an idler, and was nther surprised at what you have just said about him,"

" He does all tbat he has to do that is worth doing," returned her husband' "He requires a motive for exertion. But he really does more than maoy young fellows I know, who make a great show of industry. I have often watched him doing two men's work, and yet, when he'd stroll over to the bridge after, you'd think by him that he had spent the day rambling about. I'd like to see him get a fair start." "Ah I "hit wife replied, with an nncon scions sigh, " there ib more in Tom Dwyer than you think." But, lowering the glass, she added somewhat absently, as if Bhe wished to change the subject—" I see Mr Armstrong with tbe two children in the orchard. lam really very glad to see him able to fish again. I hope he will come over by and by. There is Alice singing one of his songs. I sometimes think ■he is fairly in love with bim.^She does not seem to care about the society of young men. But she always brightens op when she sees* Mr Armstrong or Father Feehan." " I think she is very like her poor Aunt Aileen in many ways,"' ■aid Mr Oormack thoughtfully ; " you mast be careful of her health.'" " Oh, she is quite strong now," was the rather hastily ottered reply. " She seems to be quite unlike Margaret," the father observed r " She'll probably be a nun." " You asked me what what I thought of Mr O'Keeffe," Mrs Oormack remarked, turning from the window and replacing the fields glass on the table. " 1 confess I am beginning to feel uneasy. People will talk— but that'sinot what I care most about. If Margaret really liked bim, and if you were.opposed to the matcb, I'd be_very anxiou9 about the result. •' You don't mean," said her husband, smiling, " that Margaret is the sort of girl that would pine away and die of a broken heart ? " " No, indeed," she replied. " Perhaps I'd rather she was. Bat I fear this Mr O'KeefEe is not over scrupulous." " Do you mean to suggest that sbe.migbt elope]?," ber husband interrupted in evident astonishment. " Well, not quite so bad ai tbat," she rejoined. Bat things might turn out very unpleasantly if she set her heart upon marrying him and if you refußed to give whatever fortune he required." '• Ob, nonsense," returned Ned Cormack, rising and buttoning his coat acrosa his chest. " I'll probably be able to come at|what be means to-night. Hillo I Eddy 1 Get your hat till* we go and see the young lambs." " Don't forget that Father Feehan and Mr O'Keeffe are to be here early," said Mrs Cormack as her husband passed the window. Ned Cormack replied merely by a nod, as holding bis eon by the hand, be murmured to himself :—: — "My little boy I My little boy 1 " in tones of tbe deepest tenderness, (To be concluded.')