The O'Ruddy: a Romance
Copyright© 2024 by Stephen Crane
Chapter 13
“So that is the way of it, is it?” said the Earl, grinning. “And why did you not take it to some clerk?”
“My lord,” said I with dignity, “the papers were with me in trust for you. A man may be a gentleman and yet not know how to read and write.”
“‘Tis quite true,” answered he.
“And when I spoke of the tutor in London I did not mean to say that I would use what knowledge he imparted to read your papers. I was merely blushing for the defects in my education, although Father Donovan often said that I knew half as much as he did, poor man, and him a holy father. If you care to so direct me, I can go even now to my chamber and make shift to read the papers.”
“The Irish possess a keen sense of honour,” said he admiringly.
“We do,” said I. “We possess more integrity and perfect sense of honour than any other country in the world, although they all say the same of themselves, and it was my own father who often said that he would trust an Irishman as far as he could see him and no more, but for a foreigner he had only the length of an eyelash.”
“And what do you intend with the papers now, O’Ruddy?” said he.
“I intend as I intended,” I replied. “There is no change in me.”
“And your intentions?” said he.
“To give them into the hands of Lady Mary Strepp and no other,” said I boldly.
I looked at him. He looked at me.
“Lady Mary Strepp, my daughter,” he said in ironic musing. “Would not her mother do, O’Ruddy?” he asked softly.
I gave a start.
“She is not near?” I demanded, looking from here to there.
He laughed.
“Aye, she is. I can have her here to take the papers in one short moment.”
I held up my hands.
“No—no—”
“Peace,” said he with a satanic chuckle. “I was only testing your courage.”
“My lord,” said I gravely, “seeing a bare blade come at your breast is one thing, and running around a table is another, and besides you have no suitable table in this chamber.”
The old villain laughed again.
“O’Ruddy,” he cried, “I would be a well man if you were always near me. Will I have a table fetched up from below?—’twould be easy.”
Here I stiffened.
“My lord, this is frivolity,” I declared. “I came here to give the papers. If you do not care to take them in the only way in which I will give them, let us have it said quickly.”
“They seem to be safe in your hands at present,” he remarked. “Of course after you go to London and get a tutor—ahem!—”
“I will be starting at once,” said I, “although Father Donovan always told me that he was a good tutor as tutors went at the time in Ireland. And I want to be saying now, my lord, that I cannot understand you. At one moment you are crying one thing of the papers; at the next moment you are crying another. At this time you are having a laugh with me over them. What do you mean? I’ll not stand this shiver-shavering any longer, I’ll have you to know. What do you mean?”
He raised himself among his cushions and fixed me with a bony finger.
“What do I mean? I’ll tell you, O’Ruddy,” said he, while his eyes shone brightly. “I mean that I can be contemptuous of your plot. You will not show these papers to any breathing creature because you are in love with my daughter. Fool, to match your lies against an ex-minister of the King.”
My eyes must have almost dropped from my head, but as soon as I recovered from my dumfounderment I grew amazed at the great intellect of this man. I had told nobody, and yet he knew all about it. Yes, I was in love with Lady Mary, and he was as well informed of it as if he had had spies to watch my dreams. And I saw that in many cases a lover was a kind of an ostrich, the bird which buries its head in the sands and thinks it is secure from detection. I wished that my father had told me more about love, for I have no doubt he knew everything of it, he had lived so many years in Paris. Father Donovan, of course, could not have helped me in such instruction. I resolved, any how, to be more cautious in the future, although I did not exactly see how I could improve myself. The Earl’s insight was pure mystery to me. I would not be for saying that he practised black magic, but any how, if he had been at Glandore, I would have had him chased through three parishes.
However, the Earl was grinning victoriously, and I saw that I must harden my face to a brave exterior.
“And is it so?” said I. “Is it so?”
“Yes,” he said, with his grin.
“And what then?” said I bluntly.
In his enjoyment he had been back again among his cushions.
“‘What then? What then?’” he snarled, rearing up swiftly. “Why, then you are an insolent fool: Begone from me! begone! be—” Here some spasm overtook him, a spasm more from rage than from the sickness. He fell back breathless, although his eyes continued to burn at me.
“My lord,” said I, bowing, “I will go no poorer than when I came, save that I have lost part of the respect I once had for you.”
I turned and left his chamber. Some few gentlemen yet remained in the drawing-room as I passed out into the public part of the inn. I went quietly to a chamber and sat down to think. I was for ever going to chambers and sitting down to think after these talks with the Earl, during which he was for ever rearing up in his chair and then falling back among the cushions.
But here was another tumble over the cliffs, if you like! Here was genuine disaster. I laid my head in my hands and mused before my lonely fire, drinking much and visioning my ruin. What the Earl said was true. There was trouble in the papers for the old nobleman. That he knew. That I knew. And he knew with his devilish wisdom that I would lose my head rather than see her in sorrow. Well, I could bide a time. I would go to London in company with Paddy and Jem Bottles, since they owned all the money, and if three such rogues could not devise something, then I would go away and bury myself in a war in foreign parts, occupying myself in scaling fortresses and capturing guns. These things I know I could have performed magnificently, but from the Earl I had learned that I was an ill man to conduct an affair of the heart.
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