Alma record. (Alma, Mich.) 1878-1928, 1891-01-23
"THE DUCHESS"
A Tale Of Irish Country Life.
BI THE DUCHESS
CHAPTER XVII

SuAt EN- ANli.
The last guest has departed; only .he
house PARTY is left to enjoy the g.ory OF
the dying sunset Lounging about ,n the
shaven grass, or else costly nesting down
In the garden chairs, they seem one nd all
10th TO leave the sweetness of the evening
% go indoors and dress for dinner
There is almost unwonted stillnes, ovsr
every thing; calm that bodies we'll far the
peaceful night, that already shows signs Of
descending upon them. A Little tired, Q
little languid, they are sitting voiceless-a
sense Of such pleaSurab.e laziness upon
them as forbds the desire for speech. when
suddenly, from some unknown di.tance,
sound reaches them; sound that ever gathers
its volume, and mt last disperses rudCay the
delicious touch OF rest in which they had
been indulging. Nearer and nearer comes
this objectionable break upon their tran
guilty, resolving itself presently INFO the
measured tread OF many feet and ths dull
muttering of sullen voices. Madam starts
perceptiOly AMI grows little pale, and
one swift glance she gives at Deris, as
round tho curve of the avenue an ulcouth
crowd Of half-Crightened, hall angry
peasants, comes with u rush as il pushed on
by those behind.
It is one of the very frequent see res of
VIII Oh some of Us have been eyewitness,
and of which we al have read in the daily
papers, the monthlies and the magazines.
A band Of sullen, Unlocking men, headed
by their parish priest i'm this inst nee
we'll meaning man, though that car Tot be
said Of others, with no honest Q treaty
on their lips, but rather demand for
will further reduction of the rentt that
already have been most generously re-
duced.
Delaney seeing them-and that they have
come to halt on the central part of the
gravele1 sweep before the hall door, that
had full command of that part OF the lawn
on which he and his guests were seated,
moves lightly from his loun ginglposition on
the grass and goes forward to meet them.
The Duchess, as he passes her, can sen that
he has changed color, and a cold, haId ex-
preston has settled round his lips.
''WellS'' he says Jelly, addressing himself
exclusively TO the priest, and treating the
others as though they were outside his
vision. His tone is uncompromi ing, his
whole air studiously contemp,uous.
And then the priest legins his speech,
already prepared, and which l. world be
useless TO reproduce here. The p-sop.e's
wants and wrongs, set forth in forid IAN
guage, and with a keen eige of heartfelt,
eloquent, compassion To it that t)u hes
Norah, but leaves Delaney as s,ern o al I'm
moved as before. The demand for 7, dress;
Che speakers conviction that they, his
Pensioners, have it not in their power to
pay the money said by the law 10 be- due,
but which in the sight of heaven and man
Is an unjust taxation. And so on-and on.
1t is a strange scene full of incongIuiIies
On one side extreme poverty and general
Generalization; on the other riches aud all
ha "a rafn hat 70, aly.
well-to-do, self-satisfed society. There,
the addressed although each man IN it is
wearing his Sun lays hest ill-looking crowd,
shutting together in nervous, treacherous
fashion, half uneasy, wholly vindlctive.
Before them their spokesman as j were,
their lean, asretic parish priest, Father
Doolin, slight elnaciated man wit dark
piercing eyes that now are aglow with fer
vid' eloA uence. Facing him, the tall, hand
some, young man. faultlessiy attire, with
head well up, and stern, finely cut mouth,
and srstocrat written on every line If him;
and behind all, the fashionably dressed few,
gazing with well-bred amazement at the
picture Of which they make a part.
Father colin has brought his sp- ech TO
o rather abrupt termination. 1t is difficult
to be difiuse or explanatory or persuasive
with those handsome, unsymp pathetic eyes
u
speedy finish to ores harangue; and now
that it has reached its end Delaney
throws out his hand with an openly sg-
gresive gesture.
1T is useless, ~ he says, taking adv intage
Of this unexpected break in Father collins
appeal, ''your coming TO me ON this GRAND.
To those" turning cold, angry eyes upon
the crowd, who have shown no mercy, no
mercy will | show"
Take care, SIR" says the priest, in
sort Of sharp, involuntary way, as if a lit
tic frightened.
''Do you threaten me, srgn asks Della
ney, turning upon him fercely. 'Nay,
then, threaten as you will. What / have
said remains. These people, F" with light
and scornful wave OF his hand in cir di.
rection, "have chosen TO defy me, wen 10
the extent of killing M trusted agJnt; let
them abide by that choice. i shall not
abate one fraction more of my just dues.
/ have said this before, publicly. say IL
again. Twenty per cent has been offered
and refused. No other offer shall be made
And / may as we'll say now, too, as the OPP
portunity presents itself, that it was against
my better judgment my sense Of justice,
that such grace was ever shown
An angry growl rises from the crowd,
and the Duchess blanchcs a little an makes
a quick movement, as though she would
rise from her seat.
Then a tall man steps from the CT wd and
stands in front of it, a though he Z, lis him.
self 10 be their leader-though perhaps an
unacknowlcdged one
He is great powerful fellow, with
rather brutal appearance. A heavy, bull.
like neck, lowering brow and type OF
feature that suggests strongly that Of
the gorilla.
"Say forty per cent an We might be
listenin' to ye," says the giant with
threatening air.
''stand back, Moloney," says Father
Doolin, with frown.
'Why would /, thin! Why sho, dnt he
hear the truth for w Mt in his ie9 II
you won't spake it l will Why Shouldn't
tell him what we ali think OF him and his
comradesy'
"Why not, inde ,dY'' says Delaney, with
curious laugh. "TheIe Is, however,
eom thing even more than that that you
might tell me- He goes step nearer &c
Moloney and fixes his gaze on him. "The
.u-.-.o cf if,,1 .y,o ,,,nrdorad Mr. uaradfth