Part 51 (1/2)

'I'd sooner die than have him,' said Miss Gertie, peremptorily.

'Then, I suppose, if ever, and whenever he asks you the question himself, you'll have no hesitation in telling him so?' said Aunt Becky, with becoming solemnity.

'Laughable, ridiculous, comical, and absurd, as I always thought and believed Lieutenant Puddock to be, I yet believe the asking such a question of me to be a stretch of absurdity, from which his breeding, for he is a gentleman, will restrain him. Besides, Madam, you can't possibly be aware of the subjects on which he has invariably discoursed whenever he happened to sit by me--plays and players, and candied fruit.

Really, Madam, it is too absurd to have to enter upon one's defence against so incredible an imagination.'

Aunt Rebecca looked steadily for a few seconds in her niece's face, then drew a long breath, and leaning over, kissed her again on the forehead, and with a grave little nod, and looking on her again for a short s.p.a.ce, without saying a word more, she turned suddenly and left the room.

Miss Gertrude's vexation again gave way to merriment; and her aunt, as she walked sad and stately up stairs, heard one peal of merry laughter after another ring through her niece's bed-room. She had not laughed so much for three years before; and this short visit cost her, I am sure, two hours' good sleep at least.

CHAPTER LXV.

RELATING SOME AWFUL NEWS THAT REACHED THE VILLAGE, AND HOW DR.

WALSINGHAM VISITED CAPTAIN RICHARD DEVEREUX AT HIS LODGINGS.

And now there was news all over the town, to keep all the tongues there in motion.

News--news--great news!--terrible news! Peter Fogarty, Mr. Tresham's boy, had it that morning from his cousin, Jim Redmond, whose aunt lived at Ringsend, and kept the little shop over against the 'Plume of Feathers,' where you might have your pick and choice of all sorts of nice and useful things--bacon, bra.s.s snuff-boxes, penny ballads, eggs, candles, cheese, tobacco-pipes, pinchbeck buckles for knee and instep, soap, sausages, and who knows what beside.

No one quite believed it--it was a tradition at third hand, and Peter Fogarty's cousin, Jim Redmond's aunt, was easy of faith;--Jim, it was presumed, not very accurate in narration, and Peter, not much better.

Though, however, it was not actually 'intelligence,' it was a startling thesis. And though some raised their brows and smiled darkly, and shook their heads, the whole town certainly p.r.i.c.ked their ears at it. And not a man met another without 'Well! anything more? You've heard the report, Sir--eh?'

It was not till Doctor Toole came out of town, early that day, that the sensation began in earnest.

'There could be no doubt about it--'twas a wonderful strange thing certainly. After so long a time--and so well preserved too.'

'_What_ was it--what _is_ it?'

'Why, Charles Nutter's corpse is found, Sir!'

'Corpse--hey!'

'So Toole says. Hollo! Toole--Doctor Toole--I say. Here's Mr. Slowe hasn't heard about poor Nutter.'

'Ho! neighbour Slowe--give you good-day, Sir--not heard it? By Jove, Sir--poor Nutter!--'tis true--his body's found--picked up this morning, just at sunrise, by two Dunleary fishermen, off Bullock. Justice Lowe has seen it--and Spaight saw it too. I've just been speaking with him, not an hour ago, in Thomas Street. It lies at Ringsend--and an inquest in the morning.'

And so on in Doctor Toole's manner, until he saw Dr. Walsingham, the good rector, pausing in his leisurely walk just outside the row of houses that fronted the turnpike, in one of which were the lodgings of d.i.c.k Devereux.

The good Doctor Toole wondered what brought his reverence there, for he had an inkling of something going on. So he bustled off to him, and told his story with the stern solemnity befitting such a theme, and that pallid, half-suppressed smile with which an exciting horror is sometimes related. And the good rector had many e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of consternation and sympathy, and not a few enquiries to utter. And at last, when the theme was quite exhausted, he told Toole, who still lingered on, that he was going to pay his respects to Captain Devereux.

'Oh!' said cunning little Toole, 'you need not, for I told him the whole matter.'

'Very like, Sir,' answered the doctor; 'but 'tis on another matter I wish to see him.'

'Oh!--ho!--certainly--very good, Sir. I beg pardon--and--and--he's just done his breakfast--a late dog, Sir--ha! ha! Your servant, Doctor Walsingham.'