Bram Stoker: The Complete Novels. A to Z Classics
“ours” even accidentally.
“And has anything come of it?” I asked him.
“Nothing. Now that he knows it is there, he would not let me go near it on any account. I’m in hopes he’ll quarrel with me soon in order to get rid of me, so that he may try by himself to fish it — whatever it may be — out of the bog. If he does quarrel with me! Well, I only hope he will; I have been longing for weeks past to get a chance at him. Then she’ll believe, perhaps —” He stopped.
“You saw her to-day, Dick!”
“How did you know that?”
“Because you look so happy, old man.”
“Yes, I did see her; but only for a moment. She drove up in the middle of the day, and I saw her go up to the new house. But she didn’t even see me,” and his face fell.
Presently he asked:
“You didn’t see your girl?”
“No, Dick, I did not. But how did you know?”
“I saw it in your face when you came in.”
We sat and smoked in silence. The interruption came in the shape of Andy.
“I suppose, Masther Art, the same agin to-morra — unless ye’d like me to bring ye wid Masther Dick to see Shleenanaher; ye know the shpot, surr — where Miss Norah is!”
He grinned, and as we said nothing, made his exit.
Chapter 8 — A Visit to Joyce
With renewed hope I set out in the morning for Knocknacar.
It is one of the many privileges of youth that a few hours’ sleep will change the darkest aspect of the entire universe to one of the rosiest tint. Since the previous evening, sleeping and waking, my mind had been framing reasons and excuses for the absence of It was a perpetual grief to me that I did not even know her name. The journey to the mountain seemed longer than usual; but, even at the time, this seemed to me only natural under the circumstances.
Andy was to-day seemingly saturated or overwhelmed with a superstitious gravity. Without laying any personal basis for his remarks, but accepting as a stand-point his own remark of the previous evening concerning my having seen a fairy, he proceeded to develop his fears on the subject. I will do him the justice to say that his knowledge of folk-lore was immense, and that nothing but a gigantic memory for detail, cultivated to the full, or else an equally stupendous imagination working on the facts that momentarily came before his view, could have enabled him to keep up such a flow of narrative and legend. The general result to me was, that if I had been inclined to believe such matters I would have remained under the impression that, although the whole seaboard, with adjacent mountains, from Westport to Galway, was in a state of plethora as regards uncanny existences, Knocknacar, as a habitat for such, easily bore off the palm. Indeed, that remarkable mountain must have been a solid mass of gnomes, fairies, pixies, leprachauns, and all genii, species and varieties of the same. No Chicago grain elevator in the early days of a wheat corner could have been more solidly packed. It would seem that so many inhabitants had been allured by fairies, and consequently had mysteriously disappeared, that this method of minimisation of the census must have formed a distinct drain on the local population, which, by the way, did not seem to be excessive.
I reserved to myself the right of interrogating Andy on this subject later in the day, if, unhappily, there should be any opportunity. Now that we had drawn near the hill, my fears began to return.
While Andy stabled the mare I went to the cutting and found the men already at work. During the night there had evidently been a considerable drainage from the cutting, not from the bog, but entirely local. This was now Friday morning, and I thought that if equal progress were made in the two days, it would be quite necessary that Dick should see the working on Sunday, and advise before proceeding further.
As I knew that gossip and the requirements of his horse would keep Andy away for a while, I determined to take advantage of his absence to run up to the top of the hill, just to make sure that no one was there. It did not take long to get up, but when I arrived there was no reward, except in the shape of a very magnificent view. The weather was evidently changing, for great clouds seemed to gather from the west and south, and faraway over the distant rim of the horizon the sky was as dark as night. Still, the clouds were not hurrying as before a storm, and the gloom did not seem to have come shoreward as yet; it was rather a presage of prolonged bad weather than bad itself. I did not remain long, as I wished to escape Andy’s scrutiny. Indeed, as I descended the hill I began to think that Andy had become like the “Old Man of the Sea,” and that my own experience seemed likely to rival that of Sindbad.
When I arrived at the cutting I found Andy already seated, enjoying his pipe. When he saw me he looked up with a grin, and said audibly:
“The Good People don’t seem to be workin’ so ‘arly in the mornin’. Here he is safe an’ sound among us.”
That was a very long day. Whenever I thought I could do so, without attracting too much attention, I strolled to the top of the hill, but only to suffer a new disappointment.
At dinner-time I went up and sat all the time. I was bitterly disappointed, and also began to be seriously alarmed. I seemed to have lost my Unknown.
When the men got back to their work, and I saw Andy beginning to climb the hill in an artless, purposeless manner, I thought I would kill two birds with one stone, and, while avoiding my incubus, make some inquiries. As I could easily see from the top of the hill, there were only a few houses all told in the little hamlet; and including those most isolated, there were not twenty in all. Of these I had been in the sheebeen and in old Sullivan’s, so that a stroll of an hour or two, properly organised, would cover the whole ground; and so I set out on my task to try and get some sight or report of my unknown. I knew I could always get an opportunity of opening conversation by asking for a light for my cigar.
It was a profitless task. Two hours after I had started I returned to the top of the hill as ignorant as I had gone, and the richer only by some dozen or more drinks of milk, for I found that the acceptance of some form of hospitality was an easy opening to general conversation. The top was still empty, but I had not been there a quarter of an hour when I was joined by Andy. His first remark was evidently calculated to set me at ease:
“Begor, yer ‘an’r comes to the top iv this hill nigh as often as I do meself.”
I felt that my answer was inconsequential as well as ill-tempered:
“Well, why on earth, Andy, do you come so often? Surely there is no need to come, unless you like it.”
“Faix, I came this time lest yer ‘an’r might feel lonely. I niver see a man yit be himself on top iv a hill that he didn’t want a companion iv some kind or another.”
“Andy,” I remarked, as I thought, rather cuttingly, “you judge life and men too much by your own experience. There are people and emotions which are quite out of your scope — far too high, or perhaps too low, for your psychic or intellectual grasp.”
Andy was quite unabashed. He looked at me admiringly.
“It’s a pity yer ‘an’r isn’t a mimber iv Parlyment. Shure, wid a flow iv language like that ye could do anythin’!”
As satire was no use, I thought I would draw him out on the subject of the fairies and pixies.
“I suppose you were looking for more fairies; the supply you had this morning was hardly enough to suit you, was it?”
“Begor, it’s meself is not the only wan that does be lukin’ for the fairies!” and he grinned.
“Well, I must say, Andy, you seem to have a good supply on hand. Indeed, it seems to me that if there were any more fairies to be located on this hill it would have to be enlarged, for it’s pretty solid with them already, as far as I can gather.”