Part 45 (1/2)

”I hope so,” I said resignedly. ”Everything else that you have touched you have adorned. This will follow suit.”

”Thank you, sir,” he said. ”It will be a glorious day for the children.”

”By the way,” I said, as he was going, ”was Duff at the sermon?”

”He was, poor fellow; and I am afraid he got a wigging from the bishop.

At least they were walking up and down there near the sacristy for at least half an hour before dinner. You know Duff is an awfully clever fellow. He has written some articles in the leading English magazines, in which, curiously enough, he quite agrees with Professor Sayce, the eminent a.s.syriologist, who has tried to disprove the theories about the Pentateuch originated by Graf and Wellhausen--”

”My dear fellow, this is not a conference. Spare my old nerves all that nonsense. The Bible is G.o.d's own Word--that is enough for me. But what about Duff?”

”Well, at table, the bishop was specially and expressly kind to him, and drew him out about all these matters, and made him s.h.i.+ne; and you know how well Duff can talk--”

”I wouldn't doubt the bishop,” I said; ”he always does the kind and the right thing.”

”By the way, I forgot a moment ago to say that Duff met me this morning at the station, and said, I am sure with perfect sincerity: 'Letheby, I must congratulate you. You taught me a sharp lesson the other day; you taught me a gentler lesson last evening. Pray for me that I may keep farther away from human will-o'-the-wisps, and nearer the Eternal Light than I have been.' I shook his hand warmly. _Sedes sapientiae, ora pro n.o.bis_.”

”Amen!” I said humbly.

”I've asked him over to dine on the day our fis.h.i.+ng-boat will be launched,” said Father Letheby, after a pause. ”Some of the brethren are coming; and you'll come, sir? Duff is very anxious to meet you.”

”Of course,” I replied. ”I never refuse so delightful an invitation. But why should Duff be anxious to meet me?”

”I really don't know, except that you are, as you know yourself, sir, a celebrity. He thinks a great deal of you.”

”Probably a great deal more than I am disposed to think of myself. Did he say so?”

”Oh, dear, yes! He said: 'I must make the acquaintance of that pastor of yours, Letheby, he's an _immortal genius_!'”

”An immortal genius! Well, you must know, my innocent young man, that that expression is susceptible of a double interpretation--it may mean an immortal fame like William Shakespeare's, or an immortal fame like Jack Falstaff's; it may mean a Cervantes, or a Don Quixote, a fool who has eclipsed the name of his Creator. But, as I am charitably inclined, I shall give your learned friend the benefit of the doubt, and meet him as one of my many admirers, rather than as one of my few critics.

Perhaps he may change his opinion of me, for better, for worse, on a closer acquaintance.”

”I'm quite sure, sir, that there will be a mutual appreciation. That's arranged, then--the procession on Corpus Christi, and dinner the day of our launch.”

CHAPTER XXVI

AT THE ZENITH

For one reason or another, the great events to which our little history is tending were deferred again and again, until at last the Monday within the Octave of Corpus Christi was chosen for the marriage of Bittra Campion and the launch of the great fis.h.i.+ng-boat, that was to bring untold wealth to Kilronan. Meanwhile our faculties were not permitted to rust, for we had a glorious procession on the great _Fete-Dieu_, organized, of course, and carried on to complete success by the zeal and inventive piety of my young curate. My own timidity, and dread of offending Protestant susceptibilities--a timidity, I suppose, inherited from the penal days--would have limited that procession to the narrow confines of the chapel yard; but the larger and more trusting faith of Father Letheby leaped over such restrictions, and the procession wound through the little village, down to the sheer cliffs that overhang the sea, along the narrow footpath that cuts the turf on the summit of the rocks, around the old mill, now the new factory, and back by the main road skirting the bog and meadowland, to the village church again. It would be quite useless to inquire how or where Father Letheby managed to get those silken banners, and that glittering processional cross, or the gorgeous canopy. I, who share with the majority of my countrymen the national contempt for minutiae and mere details, would have at once dogmatically declared the impossibility of securing such beautiful things in such a pre-Adamite, out-of-the-way village as Kilronan. But Father Letheby, who knows no such word as impossibility, in some quiet way--the legerdemain of a strong character--contrives to bring these unimaginable things out of the region of conjecture into the realms of fact; and I can only stare and wonder. But the whole thing was a great and unexampled success; and, whilst my own heart was swelling under the influence of the sweet hymns of the children, and the golden radiance of June sunlight, and the sparkling of the sea, and the thought that I held the Lord and Master of all between my hands, my fancy would go back to that wondrous lake on whose waters the Lord did walk, and from whose sh.o.r.es He selected the future teachers of the world. The lake calm in the sunlight, the fish gleaming in the nets, the half-naked Apostles bending over the gunwales of their boats to drag in the nets, the stately, grave figure of our Lord, the wondering women who gazed on Him afar off with fear and love--all came up before my fancy, that only came back to reality when I touched the shoulders of Reginald Ormsby and the doctor, who, with two rough fishermen, belonging to the Third Order of St. Francis, held the gilded poles of the canopy. They manifested great piety and love and reverence all the way. Ormsby had brought over all his coast-guards except the two that were on duty at the station, and they formed a n.o.ble guard of honor around the canopy; and it was difficult to say which was the more beautiful and picturesque--the demonstrative love of the peasant women, who flung up their hands in a paroxysm of devotion, whilst they murmured in the soft Gaelic: ”Ten thousand, thousand thanks to you, _O white and ruddy Saviour_!” or the calm, deep, silent tenderness of these rough men, whose faces were red and tanned and bronzed from the action of sun and sea. And the little children, who were not in the procession, peeped out shyly from beneath their mothers'

cloaks, and their round, wondering eyes rested on the white Host, who in His undying words had once said: ”Suffer little children to come unto me!” Let no one say that our poor Irish do not grasp the meaning of this central mystery of our faith! It is true that their senses are touched by more visible things; but whoever understands our people will agree with me that no great theologian in his study, no philosopher in his rostrum, no sacred nun in her choir, realizes more distinctly the awful meaning of that continued miracle of love and mercy that is enshrined on our altars, and named _Emmanuel_.

But all things come around, sooner or later, in their destined courses, and Monday dawned, fair and sunny and beautiful, as befitted the events that were to take place. There was a light summer haze on sea and land; and just a ripple of a breeze blown down as a message from the inhospitable hills. Father Letheby said early Ma.s.s at eight o'clock; and at half-past nine, the hour for the nuptial Ma.s.s, there was no standing or sitting-room in the little chapel. Of course, the front seats were reserved for the gentry, who, in spite of an academical dislike to Ormsby's conversion, gathered to witness this Catholic marriage, as a rare thing in Ireland, at least amongst their own cla.s.s. But behind them, and I should say in unpleasant proximity (for the peasantry do not carry handkerchiefs scented with White Rose or Jockey Club,--only the odor of the peat and the bogwood), surged a vast crowd of men and women, on whose lips and in whose hearts was a prayer for her who was entering on the momentous change in her sweet and tranquil life. And young Patsies and w.i.l.l.i.e.s and Jameses were locked by their legs around their brothers' necks, and trying to keep down and economize for further use that Irish cheer or yell, that from Dargai to Mandalay is well known as the war-whoop of the race invincible. I presume that I was an object of curiosity myself, as I awaited in alb and stole the coming of the bridal party. Then the curiosity pa.s.sed on to Ormsby, who, accompanied by Dr.

Armstrong, stood erect and stately before the altar-rails; then, of course, to the bride, who, accompanied by her father, and followed by a bevy of fair children, drew down a rose-shower of benedictions from the enthusiastic congregation. Did it rest there? Alas, no! Bridegroom and bride, parish priest and curate, were blotted out of the interested vision of the spectators; and, concentrated with absorbing fascination, the hundreds of eyes rested on the snowy cap and the spotless streamers of Mrs. Darcy. It was the great event of the day--the culmination of civilization in Kilronan! Wagers had been won and lost over it; one or two pitched battles had been fought with pewter weapons at Mrs. Haley's; ballads had been written on it in the style, but not quite in the polished lines, of ”Henry of Navarre”; and now, there it was, the ”white plume” of victory, the cynosure of hundreds of wondering eyes. I dare say the ”upper ten” did not mind it; they were used to such things; but everything else paled into insignificance to the critical and censorious audience behind them.

”Didn't I tell you she'd do it?”

”Begor, you did. I suppose I must stand the thrate.”

”Father Letheby cud do anything whin he cud do that.”