But Jack may be wronging him, for a certain reason—the most powerful that ever swayed the passion or warped the judgment of man—rivalry for the affections of a woman.
No heart, however hardened, is proof against the shafts of Cupid; and one has penetrated the heart of Coracle Dick, as deeply as has another that of Jack Wingate. And both from the same how and quiver—the eyes of Mary Morgan.
She is the daughter of a small farmer who lives by the Wyeside; and being a farmer’s daughter, above both in social rank, still not so high but that Love’s ladder may reach her, and each lives in hope he may some day scale it. For Evan Morgan holds as a tenant, and his land is of limited acreage. Dick Dempsey and Jack Wingate are not the only ones who wish to have him for a father-in-law, but the two most earnest, and whose chances seem best. Not that these are at all equal; on the contrary, greatly disproportionate, Dick having the advantage. In his favour is the fact that Farmer Morgan is a Roman Catholic—his wife fanatically so—he, Dempsey, professing the same faith; while Wingate is a Protestant of pronounced type.
Under these circumstances Coracle has a friend at head-quarters, in Mrs Morgan, and an advocate who visits there, in the person of Father Rogier.
With this united influence in his favour, the odds against the young waterman are great, and his chances might appear slight—indeed would he, were it not for an influence to counteract. He, too, has a partisan inside the citadel, and a powerful one; since it is the girl herself. He knows—is sure of it, as man may be of any truth, communicated to him by loving lips amidst showers of kisses. For all this has passed between Mary Morgan and himself.
And nothing of it between her and Richard Dempsey. Instead, on her part, coldness and distant reserve. It would be disdain—ay, scorn—if she dare show it; for she hates the very sight of the man. But, controlled and close watched, she has learnt to smile when she would frown.
The world—or that narrow circle of it immediately surrounding and acquainted with the Morgan family—wonders at the favourable reception it vouchsafes to Richard Dempsey—a known and noted poacher.
But in justice to Mrs Morgan it should be said, she has but slight acquaintance with the character of the man—only knows it as represented by Rogier. Absorbed in her paternosters, she gives little heed to ought else; her thoughts, as her actions, being all of the dictation, and under the direction, of the priest. In her eyes Coracle Dick is as the latter has painted him, thus—
“A worthy fellow—poor it is true, but honest withal; a little addicted to fish and game taking, as many another good man. Who wouldn’t with such laws—unrighteous—oppressive to the poor? Were they otherwise, the poacher would be a patriot. As for Dempsey, they who speak ill of him are only the envious—envying his good looks, and fine mental qualities. For he’s clever, and they can’t say nay—energetic, and likely to make his way in the world. Yet, one thing he would make—that’s a good husband to your daughter Mary—one who has the strength and courage to take care of her.”
So counsels the priest; and as he can make Mrs Morgan believe black white, she is ready to comply with his counsel. If the result rested on her, Coracle Dick would have nothing to fear.