“See now, I’ll promise you one thing, Pat,” she continued, dissembling her fears, “for old times’ sake. If ever you are in any trouble, or want a good friend, I’ll help you. And as to marrying me, ye know there’s a dozen prettier girls in these parts just aching to have you. I can’t think why you are so set on me. Come, Pat, carry the cat for me, and we will be going home.”
Pat turned about; his expression startled her—the hard look in his eyes, the tightness of his lips. Her heart beat convulsively, but she kept a brave front and faced him as she would some dangerous animal, from whom she could not escape, and was therefore bound to overawe. Pat was crazy drunk; the raw whisky had taken effect; there was a mad look in his eyes. Did he mean to murder her? The sudden sound of voices and approaching footsteps filled her with a sense of profound relief. It proved a party of neighbours going towards Glenveigh; and before Pat could interfere, Mary had snatched up Whitey, opened the gate, and darted after them.
And Pat, thus left alone, sat down suddenly on a stone and burst into a passion of maudlin sobs. Why hadn’t he killed her, and then himself? A cheap revolver was in his pocket; it was loaded in four chambers. If the Connors had been three minutes later in coming down past Foley’s Corner, the chronicle of Mary of the Gate would have concluded here.
* * * * *
The cold Miss Usher had contracted “held her,” to use an Irish term, for one whole week, and during that time, she had a most tender, thoughtful, and assiduous nurse in her young protegée. Mary was afraid to venture into the garden. Pat might waylay her again; also she experienced a certain shyness with respect to mixing with her old friends, and she spent a good deal of her time in the sick-room, reading aloud to the patient, answering notes—she wrote a fine hand, thanks to the School Board—and concocting drinks, possets, and poultices with much skill. Her attendance was so quiet, her little hands so deft and quick, her soft voice so sympathetic, that the invalid felt herself becoming warmly attached to this treasure-trove; and as she lay in bed, waited on by Mary, she instilled into the girl’s mind some practical hints, without seeming to be continuing her much-neglected education.
As Mary read aloud the papers Miss Usher threw in remarks and information. It was socially she was so desperately wanting—yes, in the common A B C of deportment and conduct. Otherwise the good lady was surprised to discover how well the girl was posted up in the most unexpected subjects. She had read widely for one of her station. Tennyson, Sir Walter Scott, Thackeray, the Brontës, some of Victor Hugo’s works, Hans Andersen, Macaulay’s history and essays, Carlyle’s French Revolution, with a fair knowledge of history, geography, grammar, and arithmetic; she was not too badly equipped. Questioned, she could tell a good deal about the Crusades, the Wars of the Roses, and was eloquent respecting the battle of Clontarf, which was a new name to Miss Usher; but then, she had never studied Irish history.
At last Miss Usher was sufficiently recovered to start for Dublin, where Lord Mulgrave was to meet his daughter and convey her home. Her chaperon had suggested at least a week in the Irish capital, in order that, before she was actually launched into her new life, Mary, the ignorant child of the pastures, might see things; such, for instance, as a large city with its traffic and shops, a fashionable hotel, a regiment marching, a theatre, a picture-gallery, and a good milliner. Before she crossed the Irish Sea she must be suitably dressed. At present she was merely clothed.
As the day of departure approached, Mary’s slender wardrobe was packed; she had been persuaded to leave the cat as a parting legacy to Mrs. Hogan, but the dog, “Rap,” must accompany her wherever she went. On this subject Lady Joseline showed an amount of decision that had never been evinced by Mary Foley—indeed, she was, as her friends knew, just wrapped up in the creature. No doubt he was a fine, handsome terrier, who had belonged to poor Katty; but Mrs. Hogan’s memory was long; she recalled a time when “Rap” had been the property of a young gentleman. Was Mary still faithful to that first fancy? Now came the final good-byes. Her numerous friends flocked to the hotel to say God-speed to Mary. These included Father Daly, Mr. and Mrs. West, Mary’s schoolfellows, neighbours, and lovers. When it came to the last words and handshakes, Mary broke down and wept unrestrainedly. She wept all the five miles to the station—such a capacity for grief was beyond the bounds of Miss Usher’s experience—indeed, the girl’s condition remained very tearful and subdued throughout the entire journey. Mary had been twice to Cork on a three-shilling cheap excursion, crammed with many others into a third-class little better than a cattle-truck; this was a new conveyance, a carriage with beautiful cushions and “Reserved” printed on the window. Once in Dublin, they drove to the “Shelbourne,” the grandeur of which struck the poor creature dumb; the lift proved a paralysing novelty, also the smart and superior chambermaid who addressed her as “your ladyship.” However, she was completely worn out with her journey, her emotion, and the novelty of everything, and, refusing dinner, retired at once to bed, and in sleep, forgot all her joys, sorrows, and fears.
The next morning the new arrival felt fresh as a lark, and ready to witness any amount of novelty. Concealed in a hired brougham, Miss Usher carried her charge to a well-known establishment, and there spent the flying hours in fitting her out in a manner becoming, not only to her, but to her new position. She was fortunately easily suited, being of a “stock size,” and with slight alterations she became possessed of a smart tailor-made, a black evening gown, a French model, crêpe-de-chine, a travelling cloak, tea-gown, luggage, hats, gloves, shoes, and furbelows. It was almost like buying a small trousseau; but Miss Usher had “carte blanche” from his lordship, he was coming in three days to claim his child, and she was resolved that she should do him credit!