The Neihart herald. [volume] (Neihart, Mont.) 1890-1901, 1899-08-12
CHAPTER VI

SI1AT En- VI.
1 stayed on in Donegal, and during
fourteen golden days %caricatured the
royal walls of the Atlantic" while
Helen sat at my feet and did the hon
ors of her native soil, her brown hands
busy all the time mending old Dad
dy Grifin's tattered fish nets, bleach
ing for miles along the parched turf
that covered the brow of the cliff.
well, yes, it is a bit of a job, sir"
she admitted deprecatingly; "but, sure,
if l did not do it for him, who would?
His sons are away at sea, and Milly,
his wife-she was my nurse when [
was a ~baby-has gone to see her
daughter at Droomleague; and he's
so old and blind-the creature! Who
wouldn't give him a hand?"
She netted busily, while l daubed
lazily and amused myself drawing out
this impulsive child of nature, to
whom all the artificial beauties and
wonders of the great world beyond
that lonely wall of rock were as un-
known as to an inhabitant of the Car
ibbean islands in the last century.
The pastime began to grow upon
me; l felt a daily increasing interest
in watching her dark face glowing
and Frightening, her strange eyes
sparkling, distending with wonder,
horror or delight in obedience to my
sybaritic fancy. Then, becoming
more interested in my companion, I
telegraphed up to town for specimens
of magical modern art, then for books,
pictures, photographs, dollhouse flow
ers, bon-bons, all of which she be-
lieved I daily unearthed from my in
~exhaustible portmanteau at Muir
phys farm. stayed on, needless Of
aught beyond the fact that l was
clearly giving ~pleasure-to a savag
interesting wait, who seemed not
to be worth any ones while to look
after, much less amuse, and at the
same time improving my own despair
ing condition, for the air of Donegal
was certainly healing my wounded
heart. Day after day the haunting
image of my fair false love became
fainter and less painful to my sight.
l was gleefully looking forward to the
time when / could cast her from me
altogether and return free and whole
in heart to the ancestral acres. when
one morning a letter from a friend at
Colworth, which commented casually
on the apparently successful innings
Lord Sandmouth's son was making
with the heiress," awoke my slumber-
ing love and jealousy to life again.
Helen at once noticed my woe-be-
gone appearance, and, accepting pitt
fully my explanation of a "beastlv
headache" begged me to lay aside
my work and lie down quietly in the
shade. complied; but, soon firing
of inaction, began to read first TO
myself and then aloud a rhymetic tale
of love, despair, and death told by
a master-hand. The sea-stained nets
soon dropped from Helen's fingers.
the color dyed her clear cheek, her
eyes filled, then dropped, and | had
the selfish satisfaction of reducing
her to the anne dismal, unhappy state
as myself.
Neither of us rallied again; and,
when We parted that night, l stood on
the hill carelessly watching her re-
treating figure, and saw her dog
a painfully sensitive little terrier; the
only living thing she loved-appar-
emily begging to be told the cause
of her unusual preoccupation, crouch
ing, ~wriggling at her feet, jumping
up against her, challenging her atten-
ton by every art of dog, but in vain.
She walked along with downcast head
her arms dropping by her sides.
was moving after her unconsciously
to say, to do, for the life of me | did
not know what. Perhaps to tell her
not to mourn over imaginary woes,
but to keep her real signs or real
sorrow, for the pain perhaps of love
betrayed wantonly betrayed like
mine, when a yellow hand clutched
my shoulder. and a coarse voice ex-
claimed breathlessly-
Stop, We thief O. the ~wurrld-stop!
What are We after-eh?"
turned Indignantly and found my
self confronted by an old woman in
a long blue cloak, and a limp white
cap framing an ugly face.
What dye mean? What business
is it Of yours?" l asked, shaking of
her hand.
"What business? Ye may we'll ask
we dirty spalpeen,' she retorted bit
terly. mo, no; I tell we, 1 won't gel
out O. yer way-yell have to knock
me down first. I'm only an ould
woman, and yell do it easy enough
but even then I'll hang onto We, an
dig me nails into we, until We tell me
what we've said to that motherless lit
tie crayther that hasn't sowl in the
wide wurrld to care whether she"
"Oh!" / interrupted quickly, all the
anger leaving my face and voice. 81
understand. You are old Molly Grit,
fin come home at last"
GAY, ay, an it's about time I die
come home, I'm thinkin'. Ochone
ochone; but isn't this a cruel wurrlt
entirely! oh, aren't ye ashamed O
yerself, you that calls yerself ;
gentleman belikes, toto play scoun
drel like that? Wouldn't her very
innocence. her folornness spake to vel
black sowl and bid yer go yer wa,
an laive such as her In peace?"
MOLLY, Molly" I said gently, for
folt a aertatn reanact and Hkip0 70,