Mary Ely, having been the daughter of a wealthy merchant, had as large and as rich a stock of wearing apparel as any woman in the middle class of life could wish to possess; and Judith overhauled it with great enjoyment.
“Ah, what an illigant shawl!” she cried, holding up a fine, large camel’s-hair wrap. “What an illigant shawl entirely to wear to mass! What would Fore Top Tom think iv me in this? And, sure, won’t it astonish them all whin I wear it! Father O’Neil may talk as much as he likes about the lilies of the field and Solomon in all his glory; but, sure, I’ll wear this shawl to mass if I have to make up for it wid a thousand ‘Hail Marys.’ But, sure, there’s no mass nor no church on that baste iv an island, and I should only wear it for them wild bastes to grin at. But, ah, what a darlint iv a green silk dhress, and how beautiful it will go with the shawl, sure! Look, ma’am!” she exclaimed, rushing up to Miss Conyers, and holding up the shawl in one hand and the dress in the other for inspection.
Britomarte turned away, revolted at the woman’s exhibition of thoughtlessness or heartlessness. If one of the common enemy had acted as Judith did in this matter, Britomarte would have poured upon him the full measure of her scorn and indignation; but with her own sex she was ever most merciful and forbearing.
“Look, ma’am—oh, look! the beautiful red shawl and the green silk dhress. Sure, ye niver set eyes on ’em before! She’d niver be wearing the like iv these on the deck, to be spoilt intirely wid the salt say wather. Look, ma’am,” persisted Judith, too much absorbed in her own delight to observe the pained expression of Miss Conyers’ countenance.
“Oh, Judith! how can you! Don’t—don’t!” was all that she could reply.
But it was enough; for in an instant the consciousness of her own seeming want of heart flashed upon Judith’s mind and quite overwhelmed her with remorse. She dropped the finery, flung herself down upon the floor in a sitting position, threw her apron over her head, and began to rock her body to and fro, crying:
“Oh, the baste that I was! Oh, the haythen I made iv meself! Oh, the divil I was turning into wid me vanity and hardness iv heart! To be enjoying ov the property before iver graving for the dead! Oh, the poor young craythur, cut off in the bloom iv her youth! Sure, she was the core iv me heart and the light iv me eye! But I shall niver see her again—niver! She’s gone! gone! gone!—lost in the salt say wather! Ow-oo! ow-oo! ow! Och-hone! och-hone! och-hone!”
And Judith set in for a regular bout of rocking and howling—not by any means in the spirit of hypocrisy, but as a matter of business, from a sense of duty, and with a feeling of some little sorrow which she was conscientiously trying to increase.
Miss Conyers liked this performance quite as little as she had the other; but, as she was not a habitual fault-finder, she said nothing.
Meanwhile, on deck Justin had collected together as many stores as the united strength of himself and party could carry to the shore.