My New Curate Part 55

Whilst the rescuing party halted, and wiped the perspiration from their brows, one said, half apologetically:--

"I am axed by these gintlemin to tell ye--ahem! that there's a rule in this village that no credit is given, from the price of an ounce of tay to a pound of tobakky. An' if ye'd be so plasin' as to remimber that poun' note ye promised, an' if it is convanient and contagious to ye, perhaps--"

One of the bailiffs fumbled at his pockets in his critical condition, and making a round ball of the note, he flung it up the cliff side with a gesture of disgust. Jem Deady took up the missive, opened it calmly, studied the numbers, and put it in his pocket.

"Now, byes, a long pull, a sthrong pull, and a pull thegither!"

And in an instant the bailiffs were sprawling on the green turf. Such cheers, such congratulations, such slapping on the back, such hip! hip!

hurrahs! were never heard before. Then the procession formed and pa.s.sed on to the village; and to the melodious strains of "G.o.d save Ireland!"

the bailiffs were conducted to Father Letheby's house. Lizzie, half crying, half laughing with delight for having escaped arrest and capital punishment, prepared dinner with alacrity; and then a great hush fell on the village--the hush of conjecture and surmise. Would the bailiffs remain or depart? Would they recognize the deep hatred of the villagers under all the chaff and fun, or would they take it as a huge joke? The same questioning agitated their own minds; but they decided to go for two reasons, viz., (1) that, fresh from the conflict, they could give a more lurid description of their adventure, and obtain larger compensation; and (2) that whilst Jem Deady was sc.r.a.ping, with no gentle hand, the oil and lampblack from their faces, that he had placed there the evening before, he told them, confidentially, to put a hundred miles between themselves and the villagers that night, if they did not care to leave their measures for a coffin. And so, at six o'clock a car was hired, and amidst a farewell volley of sarcastic cheers and uncomplimentary epithets, they drove to catch the night-mail to Dublin.

Father Letheby promptly took possession, and found nothing wrong, except the odor of some stale tobacco smoke.

Next day was All Souls', and it was with whitened lips, and with disappointment writ in every one of his fine features, that he came up after Ma.s.s to ask had I received any letter. Alas, no! He had pinned his faith, in his own generous, child-like way, to Alice's prophecy, and the Holy Souls had failed him. I went down to see Alice. She looked at me inquiringly.

"No letter, and no reprieve," I said. "You false prophetess, you child of Mahomet, what did you mean by deceiving us?"

She was crying softly.

"Nevertheless," she said at length, "it will come true. The Holy Souls will never fail him. The day is not past, nor the morrow."

Oh, woman, great is thy faith!

Yet it was a melancholy day, a day of conjecture and fear, a day of sad misgivings and sadder forebodings; and all through the weary hours the poor priest wore more than ever the aspect of a hunted fugitive.

Next morning the cloud lifted at last. He rushed up to my house, before he had touched his breakfast, and, fluttering one letter in the air, he proffered the other.

"There's the bishop's seal," he cried. "I was afraid to open it. Will you do it for me?"

I did, cutting the edges open with all reverence, as became the purple seal, and then I read:--

Bishop's House, All Souls' Day, 187--.

I nodded my head. Alice was right.

My dear Father Letheby:--

"What?" he cried, jumping up, and coming behind my chair to read over my shoulder.

I have just appointed Father Feely to the pastoral charge of Athlacca, vacated by the death of Canon Jones; and I hereby appoint you to the administratorship of my cathedral and mensal priest here. In doing so, I am departing somewhat from the usual custom, seeing that you have been but one year in the diocese; but in making this appointment, I desire to mark my recognition of the zeal and energy you have manifested since your advent to Kilronan.

I have no doubt whatever but that you will bring increased zeal to the discharge of your larger duties here. Come over, if possible, for the Sat.u.r.day confessions here, and you will remain with me until you make your own arrangements about your room at the presbytery.

I am, my dear Father Letheby, Yours in Christ, ----

"I never doubted the bishop," I said, when I had read that splendid letter a second time. "His Lordship knows how to distinguish between the accidents of a priestly life and the essentials of the priestly character. You have another letter, I believe?"

"Yes," he replied, as if he were moonstruck; "a clear receipt from the Loughboro' Factory Co. for the entire amount."

"Then Alice was right. G.o.d bless the Holy Souls!--though I'm not sure if that's the right expression."

There never was such uproar in Kilronan before. The news sped like wildfire. The village turned out _en ma.s.se_. Father Letheby had to stand such a cross-fire of blessings and questions and prayers, that we decided he had better clear out on Thursday. Besides, there was an invitation from Father Duff to meet a lot of the brethren at an _agape_ at his house on Thursday night, when Father Letheby would be _en route_.

G.o.d bless me! I thought that evening we'd never get the little mare under way. The people thronged round the little trap, kissed the young curate's hand, kissed the lapels of his coat, demanded his blessing a hundred times, fondled the mare and patted her head, until at last, slowly, as a glacier pushing its moraine before it, we wedged our way through a struggling ma.s.s of humanity.

"G.o.d be wid you, a hundred times!"

"And may His Blessed Mother purtect you!"

"And may your journey thry wid you!"

"Yerra, the bishop, 'oman, could not get on widout him. That's the raison!"

"Will we iver see ye agin, yer reverence?"

Then a deputation of the "Holy Terrors" came forward to ask him let his name remain as their honorary president.

"We'll never see a man again to lift a ball like yer reverence."

"No, nor ye'll niver see the man agin that cud rise a song like him!"

said Jem Deady.

Father Letheby had gone down in the afternoon to see Alice. Alice had heard, and Alice was crying with lonely grief. He took up her small white hand.

"Alice," he said, "I came to thank you, my child, for all that you have done for me. Your prayers, your tears, but, above all, your n.o.ble example of endurance under suffering, have been an ineffable source of strength to me. I have wavered where you stood firm under the cross--"

"Oh! Father, don't, don't!" sobbed the poor girl.

"I must," he said; "I must tell you that your courage and constancy have shamed and strengthened me a hundredfold. And now you must pray for me.

I dare say I have yet further trials before me; for I seem to be one of those who shall have no peace without the cross. But I need strength, and that you will procure for me."

"Father, Father!" said the poor girl, "it is you that have helped me.

Where would I be to-day if you had not shown me the Crucified behind the cross?"

He laid in her outstretched hand a beautiful prayer-book; and thus they parted, as two souls should part, knowing that an invisible link in the Heart of Christ held them still together.

The parting with Bittra was less painful. He promised often to run over and remain at the "Great House," where he had seen some strange things.

Nor did he forget his would-be benefactress, Nell Ca.s.sidy. He found time to be kind to all.

What a dinner was that at Father Duff's! Was there ever before such a tumult of gladness, such Alleluias of resurrection, such hip! hip!

hurrahs! such grand and n.o.ble speeches? The brave fellows had joined hands, and dragged the beaten hero from the battlefield, and set the laurels on his head. Then they all wanted to become my curates, for "Kilronan spells promotion now, you know." But I was too wise to make promises. As we were parting for the night, I heard Father Letheby say to Duff:--

"I am under everlasting obligations to you. But you shall have that boat money the moment it comes from the Insurance Office. And those sewing-machines are lying idle over there; they may be of use to you here."

"All right! Send them over, and we'll give you a clear receipt. Look here, Letheby, it's I who am under obligations to you. I had a lot of these dirty shekels acc.u.mulated since I was in Australia; and I'm ashamed to say it, I had three figures to my credit down there at the National Bank. If I died in that state, 't would be awful. Now I have a fairly easy conscience, thanks again to you!"

When I reached my room that ev--morning, I was shocked and startled to find the hour hand of my watch pointing steadily to two A.M. I rubbed my eyes. Impossible! I held the watch to my ear. It beat rhythmically. I shook my head. Then, as I sat down in a comfortable arm-chair, I held a long debate with myself as to whether it was my night prayers or my morning prayers I should say. I compromised with my conscience, and said them both together under one formula. But when I lay down to rest, but not to sleep, the wheels began to revolve rapidly. I thought of a hundred brilliant things which I could have said at the dinner table, but didn't. Such coruscations of wit, such splendid periods, were never heard before. Then my conscience began to trouble me. Two A.M.!

two A.M.! two A.M.! I tried back through all my philosophers for an apology. Horace, my old friend, came back from the shades of Orcus.