Papurau Newydd Cymru

Chwiliwch 15 miliwn o erthyglau papurau newydd Cymru

Cuddio Rhestr Erthyglau

8 erthygl ar y dudalen hon

EVEN UNTO DEATH. ¡

Newyddion
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Rhannu

{Copyright.) EVEN UNTO DEATH. ¡ BY PHILIP L. VIVIAN A '1 "Father, for Blessed Mary's sake, ye won t him! } Wild. savage faces glared in the torchlight down upon the prostrate form which the cruel sea hat cast at their feet-the one survivor of the ship that had gone down among the rocks out yonder. And the wreckers were angry and disappointed; for the treacherous currents had sucked in those who were not entombed in the foundered ship, and this was their only prey-a handsome fellow, too, with dark curly hair and finely-cut features. And his clothes were good; his watch and rinzs the wreckers had taken already; why not strip him and fling him back into the sea ? But the girl, "Dermot's girl." .s they called her,interposed,and the three wreckers paused, irresolute. Infamous though they were, they had all a certain dog-like respect for this fragile young creature of eighteen. She stood before them fearless, her flashing dark eyes fixed on her father's weather-beaten face. "Ye won't kill him!" she repeated. "Ye daren't. Ye've murder enough on your souls. For the sake of the clothes on him ye'11 red»3n yer hands again? Shaun," to the youngest of the men, "help me te carry him up to the cabin." Shaun glanced at his chief, but at an imperative gesture from the girl he stooped to raise the young man's shoulders. Then the third man came forward and relieved Conna, and together they carried the senseless man up the rocky little path to the cabin of Dermot 0'Hara,the wrecker, the old man follow- ing sulkily, and scolding his daughter as he went. But she paid no heed; she stepped up the path with her white teeth set like a vice, while the wild wind blew the rich chestnut curls about her. She was as lovely a. specimen of girlhood as painter could wish to paint; tall, slim, alert, with perfectly-moulded limbs, a wild, free grace in every movement, and a soul that lived in purgatory crying mutely in her .great black-fringed grey eyes. She had the wrecked man laid in the truckle-bed in her own chamber; it was rough-and-tumble enough, but better than the outer room, in which father and daughter lived, and the old man slept. Sometimes he would go out fisiiitig-fol lowing his ostensible calling; but there was plenty to do in his ghastly work on that dangerous coast, in this wild, secluded spot, far from prying eyes. As for Shaun, he simply did as Conna bade him do, and when, with his assistance, she had got the .patient in bed, she dismissed him curtly. She knew what to do, and hated the sight of the villain who robbed, aye, and murdered, helpless men. This man's case was easier than some; he had ttruck out boldly from thA foundered ship, but, caught by a huge wave, he was literally hurled on to the strip of rocky beach, and the blow stunned him. The gentlest of sisters of charity could not tare gone about her task of reviving the insensible man more tenderly than this wild girl of the Atlantic coast; and presently she was rewarded. The young man's lips moved then he slowly opened a pair of large dark brown eyes, and looked up languidly to the beautiful face above him. "Blessed Mary be praised!" she said softly. "Ye "Won't thry to spake yet, sir. Drink this She raised his head a little on her arm, and he drank, obediently, the diluted brandy she gave him. He was still duzy from the effects of the blow, and lay in a dreamy, semi-conscious state, watching Conna's picturesque figure, as it moved noiselessly about; he probably thought he was dreaming. He took the broth she presently brought him as obedi- ently as he had taken the brandy, but he looked at her very earnestly, and with a sort of wondering admiration, and tried feebly to touch her hand. She understood, and put her hand in his, and he smiled, and closed his fingers over hers. He was not dreaming, then ? This was really a creature of flesh and blood. When he had sunk into a tranquil sleep, Conna sought her father, and told him she was going to watch by the patient's bedside. "An' ye can go to bed," she said. "There'll be no more devil's work for ye to-night." "Howld yer tongue, girl! An' d'ye think," said 'the old man, "we'll let yon spalpeen go free to bethray us ?" "He'll not know what ye are she said boldly; an' ye'll not do harm to him, whatever happens." She turned back into the inner room, and her father grumbled himself to sleep. The girl's thoughts were full of trouble, as she ■at by the couch of the sleeping man. She had saved his life, but was it only for a time ? Her father had already sounded the note of impending danger. What was to prevent the rescued man, if allowed to go free, giving information about the wreckers ? He would certainly know it was a false light that lured the ship in which he was to destruction. The wreckers, if resolved to destroy the evidence against them, would take good care to provide against their victim's escape, and would take care that Conna did not contrive it. They knew she cared nothing for her own life; she had more than once threatened to take it with her own hand; she only endured the horrors of the life she was leading because she was sometimes able to save life. In the early morning the stranger awoke. He was Still weak, but perfectly clear in his mind, and eager to know what had happened, how he came to be where he was, gazing, as he spoke,"with grateful eyes into Conna's beautiful face, with an admira- tion, too, which, being somewhat veiled, she was too wimple-minded to notice. She told him that the ship in which he was had gone down with all hands, save hims?lf. "You were dashed on the beach, sir," she said, turning her face aside, "and some of the men about robbed you." He had covered his face, deeply overcome by hearing of the loss of all on board the vessel; he dropped his hand now, and stretched it towards her. "Robbed me ?" he repeated, huskily. "Aye, the wreckers who lured the Rowena on to the rocks- but not you !—not you Holy Mary forbid But she would not touch his outstretched hand. She rose quickly and went to the door, peeping through a chink into the kitchen. Had her father heard the stranger's words ? The old man was suspiciously near. Re- turning to the bed, and bending down as if to arrange the pillow,Conna said, under breath, "Don't spake about wreckers, for your life, sir; there's a many hereabouts." The man looked at her stea catcbing her hand in his. She met the look without flinching. "How was it they didn't kill me ?" he said slowly. "Was it you who saved me ? "Sure, yes," she said, quietly, trying to draw her hand away, but he drew it to his lips, kissing it reverently. "God reward you!" he whispered brokenly. "Tell me your name? "I'm Conna O'Hara, sir." And I am Derek Lyndon." "Conna!" called old Dermot, from the outer1 room. "Yes, father," she answered, then hastily to Lyndon, bending close to him: "For Blessed Mary's love,kape close wid me father—he's wanav them She vanished into the room, leaving Derek Lyndon face to face with a very ugly possibility. He was in a wrecker's cabin, then, in a place of which the, majority of the men probably followed the same infamous calling, and there was only this brave young girl between him and death. He had not even his pistol—the scoundrels had, of course, taken that -but, raising himself, he could see that his clothes had been left (Conna's doing, most likely), and among them his belt. The wreckers, then, had over- looked the most valuable of his possessions! By-and-bye old Dermot came in, and asked his v,guest how he was. Lyndon replied that be was mucn oetter, and would get up presently. "I shall be able to relieve you" your gentle daughter of mv presence to-dav." covfiffj^j^iyatching O'Hara's sinisreniom JL Hm I IP paid tim 10 wrecker, IN that's u it may .be.airf "They don't mean me to leave this place alive," said Lyndon to himself, when he was alone again. "But, by Heaven, I'll make a fight for my life." He raised himself, and listened. There was no one in the cabin. He sprang up and dressed him- self; excitement made him feel stronger than he really was. Was there no possibility of escape ? But CoRna !-thtV might visit his flight upon her He paused,and in that moment the door opened anff Conna herself appeared. "Misther Lyndon! she exclaimed, starting back in surprise, then sprang to his side, catching his arm. "Ye can't escape! she said hurriedly, it's all open, they will see you, an' they're on the watch. Ye must pretend to be wake an' ill; sit down here in the settle." "But, Conna, what good will that do P "It'll give me toime! she said, her dark eyes wild with terror, but never losing her presence of mind. "If they think you're helpless they may lave ye for a little. Quick! father's comin' back! There was only just time to obey her. Lyndon threw himself back in the settle, and when O'Hara came in, Conna was scolding the Englishman for getting up before he was strong enough. "An' ye've nearly fainted,ye have," she said, offering bim water, and he sipped it slowly, keeping up the appearance of weakness with admirable art. But an hour later O'Hara called his daughter out- side the cabin. "Look ye, Conna," he said, resolutely, "that spalpeen don't leave here alive. He'll go an' report that the Rowena was lured by a false light, an' anyhow, there'll be an inquoiry." "Father!" the girl said, with white lips, "Ye'll not murdhur a sick man! he can't do any harm- yet." "He'll be strong in a few days, an' thryin' to escape; an' if I spare him, Conna, the bhoys wouldn't—we know them; an' Shaun, he's jilous, bekase ye'll niver shpake to him, an' ye'll fuss about this handsome Sassenach!" Jealous! Conna, then; had to contend against that most cruel of passions! She knew it was useless to plead for anything more than a respite "Ye'll spare Misther Lyndon for a few days," she said, "till he's well." "An' you'll be up to thricks, eh ?" "I would if I could," she returned boldly, "but you know there's niver a chance! "If he eslicapes," said the old villain grimly,"I'd have no power to save your life, Conna!" "I'd give it for his! the girl muttered, as she turned back into the cottage. "I'll De glad to die when he's gone; they'll be koind that fling me over the cliffs. But they shan't murdher him I'll save him I'll save him yet." All the next day, all the next night, the girl's brains were working. She was hardly ever alone with Lyndon-O'Hara took care of that. She knew the cabin was watched by two men—Shaun being one of them; but a schema was working in her head. It was a bold one, but her father must be got rid of or silenced; the last could, perhaps, be accomplished. Dermot O'Hara was a patron of the shebeen, and not infrequently came home intoxi- cated, but, like most Irishmen, he could take a lot without being helpless. To-night he must be made helpless. By the evening Conna had her plans laid. At tea she remarked that she had seen "Pat Flaherty roarin' dhrunk wid the new stuff they had up at Sullivan's "—the shebeen. O'Hara pricked up his ears, and by and bye went out to sample "the crathur." Then Conna and the Englishman were alone. "It's blowin' up for a black night," she said, aloud at the door, and her keen eyes discovered Shaun lounging a little way off. She knew the other watcher was on the land side of the cabin. She shut the door, and went swiftly to Lyndon't side. "Misther Lyndon," she said, quick and low, "there's a chance for ye to-night. Father's gone to the shebeen; he' II come in dhrunk; I'll make him more dhrunk-till he goes to slape; tlien'll yell] put on some cf his clothes that I've got, an' we'll put him in your bed, in case Shaun comes in-an' he'll think it's you. You'll go out, stoopin' an' slouchin', bekase you're tall an' straight, sham- min' dhrunk, an' in the dark they'll think its father, an' I'll go a little way as if I'd stop you goin' back to the shebeen, and in case they'll tall to you, an' ye can't spake wid father's voice an' the Irish, I could answer. Then I'll shew you the road to escape, an' ye can get safe away. An' see here, sir, here's a matther of two shillins it'i all I've got, sir-honest money." But Lyndon caught her hands in his. "Child!" he said, hoarsely; "what is to becomf of you ? They'd kill you- "No, no-ah, sir! ye'll do't! Say yes-quick Shaun may be looking' in "I'll say yes, if you come with me, Conna-n01 otherwise." He flung his arm round her, and drew her to him. "What'll I do to come wid you she said, clasp. ing her hands against his breast in passionatf entreaty. "You'd be safer alone, and if they killec me-why that's no matther; its a dhreadful life, mine is! Ah! ye'll go, sir, for the love of Mary.' "You've saved my life once, Conna," Lyndor said, still holding her close; "and now you are lay- ing down your own life for my sake. Do you thinl I can accept such a sacrifice? Come with me; you'll be safe; you'll trust me, Conna." "Aye, sir, III thrust you—but its no use m< comin'. Take the money, sir—if ye will—hist! t step—'tis Shaun! Misther Lyndon," she said it agony, "say ye'll go—promise "I promise! he said, with a sudden thought, and released her; but he let her force the money into his hand. When Shaun looked in, Conna was busy oveJ some household work, and Lyndon was lounging or the settee, apparently half asleep. By-and-by O'Hara came in, far from sober, anc Lyndon, appearing to be very weary; retired intc the inner room. But every sense was keenly on the alert. Gradually the old man's chatter ceased, and a heavy snoring succeeded. Then, after a pause, the door opened, and Conna appeared, with a bundle of clothes in her hand. "Here's the change," she said, "put them ovet what ye have on. Father's sound." In a few minutes the fisherman's garb was assumed; and together Lyndon and Conna carried the slumbering wrecker into the inner room, laid him in the bed, and covered him right over. "Shaun's not near the door," Conna whispered, "an 'Pat's at the back." It was now about ten o'clock, and very dark and mindy. Lyndon, acting his part, flung open the door and staggered out, with a stooping gait, Conna following, with her heart in her throat. "Hillo!" called Shaun, "at it agin', Dermot!" "None o' yer meddlin', Shaun," returned the girl readily. "Aye, but I'll kape close watch," said Shaun, "lest the spalpeen thry to eschape." Another minute and the ngures of the old man and the girl were lost in the darkness. "This way, sir," Conna said—"quick! an' we'll be in the woods." Dark though it was she guided her companion unerringly. Even in the blackness of the wood she seemed to know the way, and scarcely a word was spoken until they reached the outskirts, a nd the open country lay before them. Then Conna stopped, choking down the sob in her throat, and speaking bravely: "That is the road, sir," she said, pointing ahead; "kape it straight, an' ye'll come to Ballybeg. It's about five miles. Go to Father Doolan, the priest, an' he'll befrind ye. Grooa-Dy, sir; uiwsve Asonp 1 kape you, sir." I "Blessed Mary and all saints desert me if 1 desert you," said Lyndon. "I never meant to do it, Conna." He threw his arms round her, holding faer I fast. "You'll come with me, or I go right back and give myself up to those men. Brave, faithful, noble girl! I don't need what you gave me, dear; I have money in this belt. I took your generous offering for a keepsake—a talisman." "Let me go!" Conna gasped." "Ah! sir, ye break me heart, thriflin' wid time. Go, sir, go "I'd break my heart to leave you, Conna," the man said deep and low; and he bent his head and laid his lips to hers. For a minute she clung to him ¡ in a delirium of happiness; then she tried to free herself. "Ye wouldn't mane me wrong, air," she sobbed. "I'll die aisy now, since ye love me "You'll live for me, Conna. Wrong you ? No! No! you'll be my wife, darling "Your wife! You're mad to say it! You a gintleman, an' I a poor girl, an' me father a wrecker." I "Hush, Conna, hush! I love you, and you love me; that's answer enough. I am rich, dear. I'll put you to a convent school; in a year or two no one will dream that my Irish bride was born a peasant. Come! we "niv I,- fr)Unwd." Once more he pressed his lips on hers, and this time Conna yielded utterly, and let him lead her out with him on to the road that was to take them to safety and happiness. No one to-day dreams that Derek Lyndon's oeautiful wife was peasant born. When and how aer husband met her is not exactly known; but he us said that she saved his life—would have laid lown her own for him. It is easy for those who mow her to believe that of her, easy to understand Mr husband's almost ideal worship of her. But no )ne can know, as he does, the priceless worth of Ibis woman who loved him "even unto death." WISE AND OTHERWISE. A "growing "business.—Farming. How she knew.—He:" I'm growing a moustache." She: "So someone told me." "I make my living from the soil," said the farmer. "And so do I," said the washlady. She: "Writing for the press is thankless work. Ij it not II" He: "No; everything I write is returned with thanks." He: "Where ignorance is bliss 'tis folly to be wise." She (enviously); "My, my, how supremely blissful you ought to be." "They tell me, Professor, that you have mastered all the modern tongues." Professor: "All but two my wife's and her mother's! Mr. Gruffly: "It is very disagreeable to me to tell people unpleasant truths." Mr. Candid: "I expect it is unpleasant for you to tell truths of any sort. The letter B is like some men We very often see, Because, although it is in debt, It hadn't ought to be. She: "I hope it isn't my twenty thousand that you're after, George?" Mr. Grasper: "Believe me —no, darling. I'd marry you if you had only nineteen thousand." Ellen: "Habits are hard things to break." Maud: "Yes, indeed, there's Minnie Sereleaf, who formed ) the habit of being twenty-two some years ago and has never broken it yet." Awkward.—Husband: "Awfully sorry I'm so late, dear. Been detained on business with Charlie Newcome all the evening." Wife: "Yes, darling' Mr. Newcome has been waiting here for you since nine." A day of enjoyment.—Mr. Gabber: "Where's Mrs. Gabber?" Servant: "Somebody told her an important secret this morning, and she has been out all day goiog from house to house visiting her all day going from house to house visiting her friends." Wife: "An phwy do yez be takin' thim pills when yez are well again?" Husband: "Faith, would ye be afther liavin' me let a shilling's worth of pills go to waste ? It's a thriftless family Oi married into, sure." Now seated on the beach or bluff, When day to night her reign doth render, The fisherman tells stories touch, The ardent lovers stories tender. r Judge: "Well, sir, what have you got to say for yourself ? You're a fine-lookiDg subject." Prisoner: "Fact is, judge, I was on the dock wait- ing for the steamer and Judge: "Yes, and took several schooners; 5dol. and costs. Next." Knew what it was.—"Absalom, my son, what was that note the messenger just brought you ? inquired old man Clamwhooper. "Nothing in par- ticular, father, only a billet-doux from a friend." "Indeed, how much did he say there was deux ?" The man who stood the drink: "Why did you take to the stage ? Candid ex-histrion: Because I was egged on by ambition." The man who stood the drink: "And why did you quit the stage?" Candid ex-histrion: "Because I was egged off by the audience." Assistant (to employer):" What shall I mark that new lot of black silk at?" Employer: "Mark the selling price 8s. 6d. a yard." Assistant: "But it only cost 3s. a yard!" Employer: "I don't care what it cost. I am selling off regard- less of cost." "Oh, give me the wings of a dove," she sang, At church, as before me she sat, On looking around at the others I found She wanted it to wear on her hat. She: "Henry is such a simpleton. He's like the ostrich that hides his head in the sand and then thinks that nobody can see him." He: "Oh, but that isn't a bit like Henry." She: "Why, you know how indiscreet he is." He: "Yes; but he hasn't got the sand." Jasper: "See how that little boy is looking at the green apples on that tree. He has designs on them. Will that man driving by in the gig stop him?" Jumpuppe: "No; for the man who is driving by in that gig has designs on the boy. He is the village doctor." Hobbs and Dobbs were discussing men who stammer. "The hardest job I ever had," said Hobbs, "was to understand a deaf and dumb man who stammered." "How can a deaf and dumb man stammer ? asked Dohbs. "Easily enough," re- plied Hobbs; "he had rheumatism in his fingers." Little Hans had a picture-book given him on his birthday. Suddenly he came running to his mother, and said: "Mamma, do animals know what they are called?" "No." Hans uttered a sigh of relief, and remarked: "It would have been so unpleasant for the donkey, wouldn't it ? When the girls are ugly babies then their mammas quite insist That they against our wishes shall be kissed, kissed, kissed. But when the girls are sweet sixteen their mammas say they sha'n't, And though we'd like to kiss them then, we can't, can't, can't. A vagrant, on being brought before the beak, wept so bitterly as to evoke the sympathy of the worthy magistrate, who kindly inquired: "Have you been out of work for a long time?" "Ever since my poor mother died." "How old were you at the time?" "Eighteen months, your worship." Unreasoning doubt.—"Your father is worth a million ?" said he to his jealous sweetheart. "Yes, he is," she replied. "And you are his only child?" he impressively said. "I am," she re- sponded. "And yet you doubt that I am true to you ?" be cried in tones of blended satire and sorrow." Principal: I have to send you on a very im- portant errand, one demanding the greatest secrecy. Say, Mr. Meier, can I rely upon you ? Are you able to keep a secrst?" Clerk: "Oh certainly. (Whispering in principal's ear). 1 have been secretly engaged to your daughter for the last couple of years." Mormon elder (to shoe-dealer): "I want to get a pair of shoes for my wife." Shoe-dealer: "Yes, sir. What number, please ? Mormon elder: "Seventeen." Shoe-dealer: "Seventeen! Great Brigham, sir, we haven't shoes that large." Mor- mon elder (sternly): "I'm not speaking of the number of the shoe, sir, but of the number of the wife." A broad hint. Jeems," said the laird one day to his gardener, "there was something I was going to ask you, but, man, for the life of me, I canna mind what it was." Mabbe," said Jeems, who had received no pay for three weeks, "mebbe," said he, "it was to speir at me fat wey I was keeping body and soul :theaither on the wages I wjsna gettin' I

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