"Dear me! This must have been very unpleasant to Mrs O'Joscelyn."

"Oh, she's a woman of great nerve, Mr Armstrong. Mary is a woman of very great nerve. I can a.s.sure you we shall never forget that Thursday night. About seven in the evening it got darkish, but the horrid yells of the wild creatures had never ceased for one half-hour; and, a little after seven, twenty different bonfires illuminated the parish. There were bonfires on every side of us: huge ma.s.ses of blazing turf were to be seen scattered through the whole country."

"Did they burn any thing except the turf, Mr O'Joscelyn?"

"Wait till I tell you, Mr Armstrong. I shall never forget that night; we neither of us once lay down; no, not for a moment. About eight, the children were put to bed; but with their clothes and shoes on, for there was no knowing at what moment and in how sudden a way the poor innocents might be called up. My daughters behaved admirably; they remained quite quiet in the drawing-room till about eleven, when we had evening worship, and then they retired to rest. Their mother, however, insisted that they should not take off their petticoats or stockings. At about one, we went to the hall-door: it was then bright moonlight--but the flames of the surrounding turf overpowered the moon.

The whole horizon was one glare of light."

"But were not the police about, Mr O'Joscelyn?"

"Oh, they were about, to be sure, poor men; but what could they do? The government now licenses every outrage."

"But what _did_ the people do?" said Mr Armstrong.

"Wait till I tell you. They remained up all night; and so did we, you may be sure. Mary did not rise from her chair once that night without a pistol in her hand. We heard the sounds of their voices continually, close to the parsonage gate; we could see them in the road, from the windows--crowds of them--men, women and children; and still they continued shouting. The next morning they were a little more quiet, but still the parish was disturbed: n.o.body was at work, and men and women stood collected together in the roads. But as soon as it was dusk, the shoutings and the bonfires began again; and again did I and Mrs O'Joscelyn prepare for a night of anxious watching. We sat up all Friday night, Mr Armstrong."

"With the pistols again?"

"Indeed we did; and lucky for us that we did so. Had they not known that we were prepared, I am convinced the house would have been attacked. Our daughters sat with us this night, and we were so far used to the state of disturbance, that we were able to have a little supper."

"You must have wanted that, I think."

"Indeed we did. About four in the morning, I dropped asleep on the sofa; but Mary never closed her eyes."

"Did they come into the garden at all, or near the house?"

"No, they did not. And I am very thankful they refrained from doing so, for I determined to act promptly, Mr Armstrong, and so was Mary--that is, Mrs O'Joscelyn. We were both determined to fire, if we found our premises invaded. Thank G.o.d the miscreants did not come within the gate."

"You did not suffer much, then, except the anxiety, Mr O'Joscelyn?"

"G.o.d was very merciful, and protected us; but who can feel safe, living in such times, and among such a people? And it all springs from Rome; the scarlet woman is now in her full power, and in her full deformity.

She was smitten down for a while, but has now risen again. For a while the right foot of truth was on her neck; for a while she lay prostrated before the strength of those, who by G.o.d's grace, had prevailed against her. But the latter prophecies which had been revealed to us, are now about to be accomplished. It is well for those who comprehend the signs of the coming time."

"Suppose we join the ladies," said the earl, awakened by the sudden lull in Mr O'Joscelyn's voice. "But won't you take a gla.s.s of Madeira first, Mr Armstrong?"

Mr Armstrong took his gla.s.s of Madeira, and then went to the ladies; and the next morning, left Grey Abbey, for his own parish. Well; thought he to himself, as he was driven through the park, in the earl's gig, I'm very glad I came here, for Frank's sake. I've smoothed his way to matrimony and a fortune. But I don't know anything which would induce me to stay a week at Grey Abbey. The earl is bad--nearly unbearable; but the parson!--I'd sooner by half be a Roman myself, than think so badly of my neighbours as he does. Many a time since has he told in Connaught, how Mr O'Joscelyn. and Mary, his wife, sat up two nights running, armed to the teeth, to protect themselves from the noisy Repealers of Kilcullen.

Mr Armstrong arrived safely at his parsonage, and the next morning he rode over to Kelly's Court. But Lord Ballindine was not there. He had started for Grey Abbey almost immediately on receiving the two letters which we have given, and he and his friend had pa.s.sed each other on the road.

x.x.xIX. IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS

When Frank had read his two letters from Grey Abbey, he was in such a state of excitement as to be unable properly to decide what he would immediately do. His first idea was to gallop to Tuam, as fast as his best horse would carry him; to take four horses there, and not to stop one moment till he found himself at Grey Abbey: but a little consideration showed him that this would not do. He would not find horses ready for him on the road; he must take some clothes with him; and it would be only becoming in him to give the earl some notice of his approach. So he at last made up his mind to postpone his departure for a few hours.

He was, however, too much overcome with joy to be able to do anything rationally. His anger against the earl totally evaporated; indeed, he only thought of him now as a man who had a house in which he could meet his love. He rushed into the drawing-room, where his mother and sisters were sitting, and, with the two letters open in his hand, proclaimed his intention of leaving home that day.

"Goodness gracious, Frank! and where are you going?" said Mrs O'Kelly.

"To Grey Abbey."

"No!" said Augusta, jumping up from her chair.

"I am so glad!" shouted Sophy, throwing down her portion of the worsted-work sofa.

"You have made up your difference, then, with Miss Wyndham?" said the anxious mother. "I am so glad! My own dear, good, sensible Frank!"

"I never had any difference with f.a.n.n.y," said he. "I was not able to explain all about it, nor can I now: it was a crotchet of the earl's--only some nonsense; however, I'm off now--I can't wait a day, for I mean to write to say I shall be at Grey Abbey the day after to-morrow, and I must go by Dublin. I shall be off in a couple of hours; so, for Heaven's sake, Sophy, look sharp and put up my things."

The girls both bustled out of the room, and Frank was following them, but his mother called him back. "When is it to be, Frank? Come tell me something about it. I never asked any questions when I thought the subject was a painful one."

"G.o.d bless you, mother, you never did. But I can tell you nothing--only the stupid old earl has begged me to go there at once. f.a.n.n.y must settle the time herself: there'll be settlements, and lawyer's work."

"That's true, my love. A hundred thousand pounds in ready cash does want looking after. But look here, my dear; f.a.n.n.y is of age, isn't she?"

"She is, mother."

"Well now, Frank, take my advice; they'll want to tie up her money in all manner of ways, so as to make it of the least possible use to you, or to her either. They always do; they're never contented unless they lock up a girl's money, so that neither she nor her husband can spend the princ.i.p.al or the interest. Don't let them do it, Frank. Of course she will be led by you, let them settle whatever is fair on her; but don't let them bother the money so that you can't pay off the debts.

It'll be a grand thing, Frank, to redeem the property."

Frank hemmed and hawed, and said he'd consult his lawyer in Dublin before the settlements were signed; but declared that he was not going to marry f.a.n.n.y Wyndham for her money.

"That's all very well, Frank," said the mother; "but you know you could not marry her without the money, and mind, it's now or never. Think what a thing it would be to have the property unenc.u.mbered!"

The son hurried away to throw himself at the feet of his mistress, and the mother remained in her drawing-room, thinking with delight on the renovated grandeur of the family, and of the decided lead which the O'Kellys would again be able to take in Connaught.

f.a.n.n.y's joy was quite equal to that of her lover, but it was not shown quite so openly. Her aunt congratulated her most warmly; kissed her twenty times; called her her own dear, darling niece, and promised her to love her husband, and to make him a purse if she could get Griffiths to teach her that new st.i.tch; it looked so easy she was sure she could learn it, and it wouldn't tease her eyes. Lady Selina also wished her joy; but she did it very coldly, though very sensibly.

"Believe me, my dear f.a.n.n.y, I am glad you should have the wish of your heart. There were obstacles to your union with Lord Ballindine, which appeared to be insurmountable, and I therefore attempted to wean you from your love. I hope he will prove worthy of that love, and that you may never have cause to repent of your devotion to him. You are going greatly to increase your cares and troubles; may G.o.d give you strength to bear them, and wisdom to turn them to advantage!"

The earl made a very long speech to her, in which there were but few pauses, and not one full stop. f.a.n.n.y was not now inclined to quarrel with him; and he quite satisfied himself that his conduct, throughout, towards his ward, had been dignified, prudent, consistent, and disinterested.

These speeches and congratulations all occurred during the period of Mr Armstrong's visit, and f.a.n.n.y heard nothing more about her lover, till the third morning after that gentleman's departure; the earl announced then, on entering the breakfast-room, that he had that morning received a communication from Lord Ballindine, and that his lordship intended reaching Grey Abbey that day in time for dinner.

f.a.n.n.y felt herself blush, but she said nothing; Lady Selina regretted that he had had a very wet day yesterday, and hoped he would have a fine day to-day; and Lady Cashel was overcome at the reflection that she had no one to meet him at dinner, and that she had not yet suited herself with a cook.

"Dear me," exclaimed her ladyship; "I wish we'd got this letter yesterday; no one knows now, beforehand, when people are coming. I'm sure it usen't to be so. I shall be so glad to see Lord Ballindine; you know, f.a.n.n.y, he was always a great favourite of mine. Do you think, Selina, the O'Joscelyns would mind coming again without any notice? I'm sure I don't know--I would not for the world treat Lord Ballindine shabbily; but what can I do, my dear?"

"I think, my lady, we may dispense with any ceremony now, with Lord Ballindine," said the earl. "He will, I am sure, be delighted to be received merely as one of the family. You need not mind asking the O'Joscelyns to-day."

"Do you think not? Well, that's a great comfort: besides, Lord Ballindine never was particular. But still, f.a.n.n.y, had I known he was coming so soon, I would have had Murray down from Dublin again at once, for Mrs Richards is not a good cook."

During the remainder of the morning, f.a.n.n.y was certainly very happy; but she was very uneasy. She hardly knew how to meet Lord Ballindine.

She felt that she had treated him badly, though she had never ceased to love him dearly; and she also thought she owed him much for his constancy. It was so good of him to send his friend to her--and one to whom her uncle could not refuse admission; and then she thought she had treated Mr Armstrong haughtily and unkindly. She had never thanked him for all the trouble he had taken; she had never told him how very happy he had made her; but she would do so at some future time, when he should be an honoured and a valued guest in her own and her husband's house.

But how should she receive her lover? Would they allow her to be alone with him, if only for a moment, at their first meeting? Oh! How she longed for a confidante! but she could not make a confidante of her cousin. Twice she went down to the drawing-room, with the intention of talking of her love; but Lady Selina looked so rigid, and spoke so rigidly, that she could not do it. She said such common-place things, and spoke of Lord Ballindine exactly as she would of any other visitor who might have been coming to the house. She did not confine herself to his eating and drinking, as her mother did; but she said, he'd find the house very dull, she was afraid--especially as the shooting was all over, and the hunting very nearly so; that he would, however, probably be a good deal at the Curragh races.