Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 15, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 April 1895 — A Novelin a Nutshell [ARTICLE]

A Novelin a Nutshell

THE CAUSE, It was Fair Day in Antheen, in County Cork, and the town, for the nonce, was given over to pigs, geese and peasantry. The market square was a medley of grunting, noisy animals and rickety carts with nondescript horses, their owners the while quietly smoking their pipes, or gathered in loud argument outside the little taverns. Women with bare feet and heads covered with shawls, together with dirty little blue-eyed urchins, completed a picture which is about as quaint and old-world as any that the British Isles can show. Andy O’Shea was there in the thick of the crowd, towering above his shorter countrymen by a head and shoulders, with the dark hair and blue eyes that proclaimed him a true Irishman. “King of Antheen” they called him, and in truth that was much about the position he occupied ; for his personality swayed public opinion to a great extent, while his shrewdness and superior education caused him to be resorted to for advice by all the country side. Although a farmer in a large way, he was well connected, and claimed to be descended from one of the oldest Irish families.

In the midst of the clamor and bustle, a rattle of wheels is heard, and the peasants crane their necks to have a look at their new landlord. The gentleman in question drove up in a smart cart, with a grand little Irish mare in the shafts, aud as he jumped off a slight murmur ran through the janh?, which, however, was stilled at once. Vai Hastings had come into the property unexpectedly a few months ago by the death of an uncle, and, being energetic by mature, ana having heard that the sport on the estate was good, he came over to relieve his agent and take up the reins of government himself. So far he had not been unsuccessful, for he had obtained the good will of Andy O’Shea, and the result was that his “rint” was paid far more regularly than that of his brother landlords. There were not people wanting to say this came more of Hastings’ friend- ' ship for Andy’s sister, Winifred, than of Andy himself, but this was only a surmise. Vai Hastings was rather an uncommon type of a man; independent and with no profession, he amused himself with travel and sport, and wherever he went acquired a reputation as a dead shot and a brave though reckless man, which he undoubtedly was. He had been left an orphan early, and his training had been one of the best; the result was that his watchword was “Pour s’amuser,” and he carried out this maxim to the letter. His face was clean shaven, dark and resolute, with that indescribable look on it of a man who has looked death in the face and braved him. He might have been 30, but the absence of hair on his face and his lithe build made him look younger, while his well-made figure was set off to its best advantage by the trim tweed riding suit he wore. Suddenly a hand was laid on his shoulder, and, looking round, his eyes met those of Andy O’Shea, with a look in them he had never seen before. “Mr. Hastings, a word with you,” he said, with hardly a trace of the Irish accent. “At your disposal. What can I do for you? Anything in the farm line?” “I am not going to speak about farms or cattle to-day, Mr. Hastings,” he replied; “but about something I love better—my sister Winifred.”

“Go on; I am listening,” said Vai, with a curious tightening of his mouth. “I don’t know whether you are aware that my sister and yourself are the common talk of Anthepn, and, as her only relative, in her interest I demand to know what your intentions are toward her. When a man in your state of life takes undue notice of a girl in my sister’s position I have aright to ask.” Something in Andy’s tone jarred on Hastings, for he turned a trifle paler, and answered sternly: “Whatever there is between Miss O’Shea and myself is between us two. not between you and me.” “Answer me,” replied Andy, livid with passion, in alow voice; “answer me or I’ll thrash you here—here before every man, you creeping Saxon—you who have sneaked into my house and —” Here his outburst was cut short, for Vai’s crop descended on his face, and O’Shea reeled on the ground. For a moment dead silence reigned supreme in the market place, and all gazed in astonishment on blastings standing with uplifted whip above the writliingO’Shea. Then the spell was broken, and. with shrill cries of “Down with the landlord! Down with the Saxon!” a .score of men rushed at Vai, and the fight began. Vai stood with his back to a wall, and resolutely defended himself, bun Strong as he was. they beat him down on to one knee. Just as he was giving up hope there was a shout of “Police!” a wild rush, and Vai found himself, without knowing how, in the center of a compact knot of about ten constabulary, slowly moving to-

ward one end of the square, where the rest of the force had placed two carts across one of the only two entrances into it, and were keeping the mob at bay. The fight now b°catne general; shillelahs waved wildly everywhere, while amid the hubbub rose the squeals of the pigs, which, getting loose, rushed in all directions, and rendered the confusion too hideous to be described. Amid the thick cloud of dust Vai could see the mass that intervened between them and the barrier, and wondered, in his half-stunned condition, if they would reach it. Ah! they are moving; slowly at first, then faster, as their splendid discipline tells, and the mob surge aside before them. One last struggle, and he is lifted over the barrier, and a long howl of >age goes up from the crowd balked of their prey. “For God’s sake, get out of this,” shouted the subaltern in command, as he helped him on to the car. “Drive your hardest.” A flick at the mare, a spring, and the low stone walls began to slip past the car rapidly. Then the cool air at the same time revived the halfstunned man. Bpt when he came to himself the roar of the mob had died down in the distance, and they held I their way unchecked to Antheen I Hall.

THE EFFECT. The moon was rising slowly, throwing a long, rippling shadow on the black river,which eddied along under a bank where a clump of dwarf oaks and willows formed a sort of bower. Further dowm, a few lights flickering from a long, low building marked the position of O’Shea's farm. From out of the gloom a figure wrapped in a long cloak glided down to the edge of the river, and stood shivering from time to time at the cries of the night fowl and the chill damp of the stream. Suddenly, amid the sounds of the woods, her listening ear caught the faintest plash of oars, and the hood slipped from her head as she came down to the brink of the river and peeped intently into its dancing shadows. It is a sweet face which the moon shines upon; large, gray eyes fringed with long, black eyelashes, small, shapely nose, little mouth, and red lips quivering with expectation ; the pale face ringed with an aureole of golden-brown hair, which nestles over the high, white forehead in a hundred little ringlets. Such is Winifred O’Shea, as she stands there waiting by the lonely river. And as she paused a long black streak glided round the point, and with a few strokes of the paddle a Canadian canoe came under the shadow of the bank. A moment more and another dark figure stood beside her, and she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him again and again. “I am so glad you have come, dearest,” she said, at last; “I have been so alarmed for you.” “Why have you troubled your dear little heart about me, child; am I not able to take care of myself?” “Yes; I know you are strong and brave, but that is no good when you are taken unawares, when a bullet sings from behind a stone wall ” “Ah? what are you saying—a bullet, a stone wall? Have you heard any threats against me, You must have, or you would not speak so. Who is it? Your brother?”

There was no answer, but' the proud head sank on his shoulder, and he could feel the form in his arms quivering with ill-suppressed sobs. He stooped and kissed her. “Promise you will not betray him,” she answered at last, “for he is very dear to me, my brother, but you are dearer still. That is why lam here now to warn you. On that dreadful night he came home with his head bandaged, and, eyeing me grimly, he pointed to his wound and said, ‘This is your lover’s handiwork. Will you take him in your .arms after this?’ Then Mike Dennis and John O’Hara stepped forward and said, ‘The Saxon blackguard will nivir do it agin to ye; he is marked.’ Oh, love of mine, take care!—if you were to die and leave me my heart would break 1”

“These men are weak chatterers, brave in words alone. Why have they not tried to do their work before? This morning I was riding alone, this afternoon I was driving.” “Hush, Vai! don’t speak so loud! time is precious. Let me tell you all I know. The Garrison ball, to-mor-row night; you will be returning late on foot ” ‘ ‘How in the name of God do my foes know that?” burst out Vai. “Never mind, they know it, and will ambush themselves in Perrin Woods. There can be no mistake—your felt hat and ulster are well known, and besides, no one else will come back that way. There will be no one to help you, and you will fall in the middle of the white road. Oh, Vail my Vai! promise me you will not go, or you will come home some other way—that you will avoid this in some manner! Think of my broken heart, think of the disgrace, the shame ”

But Vai had put her firmly from him, and stood there with eyes that gleamed strangely, for a picture had risen before his mind. He is in Sicily, and from behind a rock four brigands rise up, and with threats, demand money. He refuses; they attack. He has wrenched the knife out of the hand of the foremost, and places him and two others beyond the reach of fighting. Then the fourth clutches him, and they wrestle, near the edge of a yawning precipice, with the gulls screaming below, nearer, nearer, till with one outburst of strength he throws him over the edge, and, as he slips unconscious,hears the sickening crunch on the rocks four hundred feet below, and with the remembrance of past days the old Norman blood surged into his brain, hiding as in a mist the pleading, tear-stained face upturned to him, and he answered: “Do you think that I shall give up my plans because a cur who dare not face me hides and tries to kill me? I tell you I will walk buck through Perrin Woods to-morrow night, and if he or anyone else molests me I shall shoot them as they would shoot me if they will stand up and face me. To think that a Hastings should be defied by a coward—” “ Vai, he is my brother! ” “Yes, and a coward, and you would have me be a coward too. I

' love you, Winifred; but I love my i honor better, and I will show your brother or anyone else who molests me to-morrow night how I can vindi- ■ cate it.” j Winifred withdrew herself from i his arms, and the tears died on her j face, which had grown set and white as she listened. At last, with a sob, she answered: “ There is something inconsistent in what you say, Mr. Hastings; in one breath you vow you love me, and in the next you refuse to save our family from disgrace and me from despair and wretchedness. Don’t you think I am worthy of a little love, a little consideration ?” “ I fancy, Miss O’Shea, our conversation had better cease for tonight. I will find means of letting your brother know that I shall not avoid him. I should advise you to try an Irish lover now, Miss O’Shea; a Saxon one has too much selfrespect to please you. Goodnight.” “ Vai, my love, for God’s sake come back!” But his canoe grates on the pebbles and he is gone. If he had turned back, if he bad seen those outstretched hands and heard that piteous “Come back!” all might have been well. But he never turned and so signed her death warrant. THE RESOLVE. The next day hung slowly on Vai Hastings' hands. He wandered about the grounds of Antheen Hall in an aimless way, meditating on the situation, and his blood flamed whenever he thought of O’Shea and the coming struggle. Hastings was no braggart or Don Quixote, but his honor was very sensitive, and never a doubt crossed his mind as to the course he should take that night. He would be armed, too, and meet this man, this coward, and dare him to fight him to his face, and then—if he were killed—life was not worth much, and if he conquered—anyway, Winifred O’Shea was lost to him, and he would try to be a man, and live his life without her. He once thought of sending a challenge to O’Shea, but, remembering that he had informed the head groom, a shiftyfaced. suspicious-looking man, of his plans for that night, he went to him and carelessly reiterated them, feeling certain that O’Shea would get the latest intelligence through this medium. And in this he was right; the man was in O’Shea’s pay to spy on his master.

Dinner was an entire failure, and. pushing the untasted food from him, he went put into the dim hall, and took n green leather case from a chest of old oak. Then he drew out two revolvers, and, after loading them and examining them carefully, put them into the case, and the case into his long fawn coat. He returned into the dining room, and, throwing himself into a lounge chair, tried to divert his thoughts with a cigarette. But, do what he would, Winifred would rise before his eyes—Winifred as she was when he saw her for the first time. He had gone down to O’Shea’s farm to look at a shed that wanted repair, and on his way back he had suddenly come upon her round a shrubbery corner, and oh, how sweet she had looked in her blue blouse and a sort of sunbonnet, against which her bright hair had gleamed under the sun 1 What a pretty expression, half fright, half amusement, she wore, and how queenly she seemedas she faced him 1 Could not things be altered? Was there not time? “The dog cart is at the door, sir,” said a trim manservant. He rose and went out. That morning, too, found Winifred O’Shea in a mental state which might be described as a fog. Thoughts, plans, doubts, hopes, fears—all chased each qther through her head like swallows at play. She knew her brother well —his vindictive nature, which would brood and brood until it would drive him to desperation, and that he would kill her as well if she attempted to interfere. She knew her lover—his hasty soul, his absolute contempt for danger, and his determination—and a shudder passed over her; but that quickly died away as she remembered how they had parted. If he loved her, things would have been different; he would have saved her from this pain, this shame. But he loved her no longer—that was evident.

Suddenly a picture rose before her eyes; she saw the Perrin Woods, and the moon falling In strange white patches on the long road; she saw Vai walking unconcernedly along with his winging step; then a flash, a report, and he throws up his arms with a moan, and rolls over and over in the dust, and with an agonizing cry she buried her face in her hands. No, her Vai should not die like this; she would save him. She would' slip into the cloak-room and take his hat and coat, put them on, and, trusting to her height and lithe step, would walk down the road. She shivered; she was very young to die. But what had she left to live for? The twilight deepened in the old oak-paneled room at O’Shea’s farmstead, but still she sat there motionless, with her head on her hand, gazing with strained set eyes into eternity. THE SACRIFICE. The officers’ quarters at Antheen barracks were a blaze ©f light, and the soft strains of the band swept out on the night air and died away as softly as they came. The were illuminated with a myriad of colored lights, which, as the night was windless, still burnt clearly, though it was past midnight, while their brilliancy contrasted pleasantly with the softer rays of the sinking moon. A Lail, lithe figure in a felt hatand a long, brown coat left the veranda, and slipped out through the lighted gardens into the main'road. The highcoat collar was turned up, and that, together with the.fact that the felt hat was polled well down over the face, entirely concealed the identity of the wearer. Just as the roadway was reached the figure turned round to the lights , behind, and the face showed white in the darkness—it was Winifred O’Shea going to her doom. She stopped a minute, and her brain reeled as she looked at the barracks behind and thought of Vai.

How cruel he was after all her love for him 1 Why did he not come and save her? No, it was Vai that must be saved at any cost, and there was no other way. She stumbled along, and the pains of death rose before her eyes. Oh 1 the horror of it—the fiery ball eating her flesh, the agony of writhing in the dust, for she felt sure Andy would not miss. Just as her resolutions were slipping away from her, something gleamed white in the moonlight on the roadside. | It was a rough stone cross, inviting the passer-by to pray for the soul of one suddenly launched into eternity. Moved by a sudden impulse, she flung herself at its foot and prayed as she had never prayed before that whatever sins she had committed might be blotted out by this last sacrifice made in the spring of her youth,and that the path of trial she was about to tread would lead her to the heaven where in God’s good time she would meet Vai again. Then she rose and walked on, and all fear left her; only love for Vai remained, that love which was prompting her to lay down her life for his sake. One hesitation, and she has turned aside down the pathway through Perrin Woods, where the moonlight falls in patches and flakes and bars —the pathway leading to her long rest. * • * Vai was the first to find the body, as it lay huddled up, a little heap in a patch of light. A ghastly red streak showed where her life had ebbed away, and those pretty curls were all dabbled and splashed with the blood that formed a pool around her. The cold face lay white and awful to the sky, and the eyes seemed to quiver as the flickering rays fell upon them. He staggered, and a mist seemed topass before him; then he knelt down by the side of the body and gently drew down the eyelids. Something was clasped in the limp hand, but crushed in folds in her death struggle. He took it and smoothed it out —it was a photograph of himself. And as he knelt there, heedless of the possibility of a lurking foe, everything gradually dawned upon him—the all absorbing love, the courage, the despair that had laid her dead at his feet, and he hid his face in his hands. Then he rose, and, with a long kiss on the poor cold lips, left her to God and the wailing night wind. * * * Andy O’Shea was never seen in Antheen again, but his gun, with one barrel discharged, which was found by the bank of the river,left no doubt as to his fate. Vai Hastings left England almost immediately for East Africa, and, while going up country, met with a band of slave traders. One survivor of his band alone returned to Zanzibar, and his tale of its complete annihilation has never been contradicted. And doubtless Winifred’s prayer has been answered.—[Sketch.