Luttrell Of Arran Part 17

"He knew you well; he treated you just the way they treat the wild Indians in the Rocky Mountains, where they buy all that they have in the world for an old bra.s.s b.u.t.ton or a few spangles. In his eyes you were all poor savages, and no more."

"I wish I never set foot in your house, Tim O'Rorke," said she, throwing down the knife, and stamping her bare foot with anger. "'Tis never a good word for man or woman comes out of your mouth, and if it wasn't so far to go I'd set off now."

"You're the making of a nice one," said he, with a sneering laugh.

"I'm the making of what will be far above you one day," said she, and her large blue eyes dilated, and her nostrils expanded with pa.s.sion.

"Go down to the well and fill that pitcher," said he, calmly. And she took the vessel, and tripped as lightly on the errand as though she had not come seventeen long miles that same morning.

CHAPTER XI. THE LEGEND OF LUTTRELL AND THE------

Doubtless the fresh free mountain air had its influence, and something, too, lay in the surprise at the goodness of the fare, but Vyner and Grenfell sat at the open door after their dinner in the pleasant frame of mind of those who have dined to their satisfaction, and like to reflect on it.

"I can almost look with complacency on your idea of an Irish property, Vyner, when I think of that mutton," said Grenfell, as he lazily puffed his cigar, while he lay full stretched on the gra.s.s. "With what consummate tact, too, the fellow avoided all attempts at fine cookery, and sent us up those trouts plainly fried."

"This is the only thing I cannot relish--this vile, semi-sweet and smoky compound. It is detestable!" And he held the whisky to his nose, and laid it down again. "Are we sure that he cannot command something better?"

"Here goes to see," said Grenfell, starting up. "What a crowning pleasure would a gla.s.s of sherry--that Amontillado of yours--be in such a spot."

"Fetch me out that map you'll find on my table," said Vyner, as the other moved away, and he lay half dreamily gazing out at the long valley with its mountain barrier in the distance. It was the thought of s.p.a.ce, of a splendid territory princely in extent, that captivated his mind with regard to this purchase. All told him that such acquisitions are seldom profitable, and very often perilous; that whatever changes are to be wrought must be carried out with patience and infinite caution, and that the people--the wild natives, who consider the soil as more than half their own--must be conciliated. But was there ever a man--at least an imaginative, impulsive man--who did not fancy he was the person to deal with such difficulties? That by his tact, and skill, and delicate treatment, the obstacles which had closed the way for others would be removed; that with an instinctive appreciation of the people, of their moods of thought, their pa.s.sions, and their prejudices, _he_ would discover the road to their hearts, and teach them to trust and confide in him?

It was in a sort of fool's paradise of this kind that Vyner lay. He was a prince in his own wild mountain territory, his sway undisputed, his rule absolute. He had spread benefits innumerable around him, and the recipients were happy, and, what is more, were grateful. Some terrible crime--agrarian outrage, as newspaper literature has it--had come before the House, and led to a discussion on the question of Irish landlordism, and he imagined himself rising in his place to declare his own experiences--"very different, indeed, from those of the Right Honourable Gentleman who had just sat down." What a glowing picture of a country he drew; what happiness, what peace, what prosperity. It was Arcadia, with a little more rain and a police force. There was no disturbance, no scarcity, very little sickness, religious differences were unknown, a universal brotherhood bound man to man, and imparted to the success of each all the sentiment of a general triumph. "And where, Sir, will you say, is this happy region--in what favoured country blessed by nature is this Elysium? and my reply is, in the wild and almost trackless mountains of Donegal, amidst scenery whose desolate grandeur almost appals the beholder; where but a few years back the traveller dared not penetrate above a mile or two from the coast, and where in comparison the bush in Newfoundland or the thicket in New Zealand had been safe. It is my proud privilege to declare, Sir, and this I do, not alone before this House, but in face of the country----"

"That you never saw a prettier face than that," said Grenfell, leading forward the little girl by the hand, and placing her before him.

"She is pretty; she is downright beautiful," said Vyner, warmly. "Where did you find this queen of the fairies?"

"At the well yonder, trying to place on her head a pitcher not much smaller than herself. She tells me she is a stranger here, only waiting for her grandfather to come and fetch her away."

"And where to?" asked Vyner.

"To Glenvallah." And she pointed in the direction of the mountains.

"And where have you come from now?"

"From Arran--from the island."

"What took you to the island, child?"

"I was at my aunt's wake. It was there I got this." And she lifted one of the beads of her necklace with a conscious pride.

"Amber and gold; they become you admirably."

The child seemed to feel the praise in her inmost heart. It was a eulogy that took in what she prized most, and she shook back the luxuriant ma.s.ses of her hair, the better to display the ornaments she wore.

"And it was your aunt left this to you?" asked Grenfell.

"No; but we had everything amongst us. Grandfather took this, and Tom Noonan took that, and Mark Tracey got the other, and this--this was mine."

"Were you sorry for your aunt?" asked Vyner.

"No, I didn't care."

"Not care for your father's or your mother's sister?"

"She was my mother's sister, but we never saw her. She couldn't come to us, and he wouldn't let us come to her."

"He, I suppose, means her husband?"

The child nodded a.s.sent.

"And what was the reason of this; was there a family quarrel?"

"No. It was because he was a gentleman." "Indeed!" broke in Grenfell.

"How did you know that?"

"Because he never worked, nor did anything for his living. He could stay all day out on the sea-sh.o.r.e gathering sh.e.l.ls, and go home when he pleased to his meals or his bed."

"And that is being a gentleman?"

"I think it is; and I wish I was a lady."

"What was this gentleman's name?"

"John Hamilton Luttrell--Luttrell of Arran we called him."

"John Luttrell! And was your aunt his wife, child?" asked Vyner, eagerly; "and are you the cousin of Harry Luttrell?"

"Yes; but he would not let me say so; he is as proud as his father."

"He need not be ashamed of such a cousin, I think," said Vyner, as he surveyed her; and the child again raised her fingers to her necklace, as though it was there that lay all her claim to admiration.

"Keep her in talk, George, while I make a sketch of her; she is the very brightest thing I ever saw in nature."

"Tell me the names of all these mountains," said Grenfell; "but first of all, your own."

"My name is Kitty; but I like them to call me Katherine--as the priest does."

"It is statelier to be Katherine," said Grenfell, gravely.

And she gave a nod of haughty acknowledgment that almost provoked a smile from him.

"That mountain is Caub na D'haoul, the Devil's Nightcap; whenever he takes it off, there's a storm at sea; and there's Kilmacreenon, where the Bradleys was killed; and that's Strathmore, where the gold mines is."

"And are there really gold mines there?"