Section 4 of The Haunted Organist of Hurley-Burley and Other Stories This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Brett Montgomery The Haunted Organist of Hurley-Burley and Other Stories by Rosa Mulholland The Country Cousin, Chapter 2 This is a dull place, after all, said Primula next day, when Hetty, having shown her everything in the house, took her a walk through the best streets to see the shops. I thought that in a town one would see gay ladies walking about and soldiers in red coats and a great deal of amusement going on about us.  You thought it was a city, said Hetty, laughing. I never thought about it being dull, but perhaps it is. We have gay ladies in Smokford, but they do not walk about in the streets. You may meet them sometimes in their carriages. It is a manufacturing town and that makes the smoke. I don't wonder at all that more edge should be prettier. Oh, there is a lady. Look at her hat. And there is certainly embroidery on her dress. I should like a dress like that, only I've got no money. Do you never see any company in your house, cousin Hetty? Anthony comes often, said Hetty happily, and others come in and out, but we have nothing you could call company. You will see more of life when you go to the mill in us. There will be other young girls and you will find it pleasant. I ought to have a better dress to go in, said Primula. All the girls in the shops are nicely dressed. Have you got any money, cousin Hetty? she added, hesitatingly. Hetty blushed and was embarrassed for a moment. She had indeed a pound, the savings of years, about the expending of which she had made many a scheme. A present for her father or for Anthony, she had not quite decided. Well, here was her cousin who wanted clothing. She could not refuse her. I have a pound, said Hetty, faintly, and you can buy what you please with it. Oh, thank you, said her cousin, let us go in and buy the dress at once. And they went into the finest shop, where the counter was soon covered with materials for their choice. This lilac is charming, said Primula longingly.  The grey is almost as nice, said Hetty, and I assure you it will wear much better. Do you think you have not got five shillings more, pleaded Primula? The lilac is so much prettier. No, said Hetty in distress. Indeed I have not a penny more. The young lady can pay me at some other time, said the shopman, seeing the grieved look on Primula's face. Oh, thank you, murmured Primula, gazing at him gratefully. No, no, cousin, you must not indeed think of going into debt, said Hetty. Come home and let us talk about it. Oh, shall never get it, said Primula, with a heavy sigh, and the tears rushed into her eyes. I will take off the five shillings, said the fascinated shopman. You may have the lilac for the same price as the grey. Primula blushed scarlet and murmured some tremulous, enraptured thanks, and the shopman bowed her out of the shop with a parcel in her arms. Though Primula was going to be a dressmaker, Hetty had to make this particular dress. I don't know how to do it yet, cousin, said Primula, at least not the cutting out. When the cutting out was done, the owner of the dress was not at all inclined for the trouble of sewing it. Hetty had turned her room into a workroom, and stitched with a good will, while the new inmate of the chamber sat on the little bed which had been set up for her own accommodation in the corner, and entertained Hetty with her prattle about the life at Moor Edge, the number of the neighbour's cows, and the flavour of their butter, the dancers on the green in summer time, the pleasure of being elected Queen of the May. When the dress was finished and put on, Primula willingly took her steps to a house in a prominent street with Miss Betty Flounce on a brass plate on the door, and was stared at on her first appearance by all the new apprentices who never had had so prettier creature among them before. Summer was passed, and the dark evenings had begun. Anthony, said Hetty one day, your workplace is near to Primula's. Could you call for her every evening and bring her home? Anthony changed colour, and looked at Hetty in surprise. Not if it annoys you, said Hetty quickly, but I don't think you would find it much trouble. She's greatly remarked in the streets, and someone who calls himself a gentleman has been following her about lately. Anthony frowned. I should not wonder, he said angrily. She is a thoughtless creature. You need not be so hard on her, said Hetty. She is soft and childlike, and does not know how to speak to people and frighten them off. Well, I will be her knight, only to please you, said Anthony. And see, here is the carving of the design out of your dream. Don't you remember? The face among the lilies, cried Hetty, examining it, and it has turned out quite beautiful. Why, Anthony, I declare it looks like Primula. So it does indeed, said Anthony, turning away. I suppose her face must have come in my dreams, said Hetty, for I never had seen her when this was designed. I have heard of dreams for shadowing things, but I never believed it. However, you could not have a lovelier model, I am sure. No, said Anthony, and thenceforth he called for Primula every evening and brought her home. Sometimes Hetty came to meet them, more often she remained at home to have the tea ready. At first Primula did not like being so escorted, for she had made many acquaintances and had been accustomed to stop and say good evening to various friends whom she met on her way from Miss Flounce's door. And Anthony walked by her side like a policeman and kept everybody at a distance, but she had to submit. Hetty, said Anthony, one day, when things had gone on like this for some time, don't you think it is time she was going home? What, Primula? cried Hetty, surprised. Why, no, she does not think of it, nor we neither. She is sometimes in the way, said Anthony, moodily.  You and I are not the same to each other since she came. Oh Anthony, we never have any private talks together now. You never speak as you used, because Primula is present and she does not understand you. I have noticed that, said Hetty, but I thought you did not. I believed it was not my fault. You often talk to Primula about the things that please her. I thought it seemed to amuse you and so I was content. Anthony lifted Hetty's little brown hand off the table and kissed it. Then he turned away without another word and went out of the house. The kitchen was a pleasant enough place that evening, with firelight twinkling on the latter's windows, coppers glinting on the walls, Hetty making cakes at a long table, Anthony smoking in the chimney corner, while Primula moved about with a sort of frolicsome grace of her own, teasing Hetty and prattling to Anthony, playing tricks on the cat and provoking old Sib by taking liberties with her bellows to make sparks fly up the chimney. He pulled some dough from Hetty and kneaded it into a grotesque-looking face, glancing roguishly at Anthony while she shaped eyes and nose and mouth. What are you doing, you foolish kitten, said Anthony, taking the pipe from his lips. Making a model for your carving, sir, and Primula displayed her handy work. Bake it, said Anthony, and let me eat it, and who knows but it may fill me with inspiration. Primula laughed gaily and proceeded to obey, and Hetty looked over her shoulder to enjoy the scene which followed. It was a sweet face, certainly, said Anthony, and Primula clapped her hands with glee at the joke. Anthony put away his pipe and seemed ready for more play. It was no wonder Hetty had said that he seemed to like Primula's nonsense. By this time Primula had learned to find Smokeford a pleasant place. Her beautiful face became well-known as she passed through the streets to and from her work. Young artisans and shopkeepers began to look out of their open doors at the hour for her passing, and idle gentlemen riding about the town did not fail to take note of her. Her companions were jealous, her mistress was dissatisfied with the progress of her work, and the head of the little apprentice was nearly turned with vanity. One night Hetty, going into her bedroom, found Primula at the glass, fastening a handsome pair of gold earrings in her ears. Oh Prim! cried Hetty in amazement. Where did you get anything so costly? From a friend, said Primula, smiling and shaking her head so that the earrings flashed in her ears, from someone who likes me very much. Oh Primula, how cross you are Hetty.  I'll lend them to you any time you like. You know I'm not envious cousin. You know I mean that it was wrong of you to take them. Why? pouted Primula, they were not stolen. The person who gave them is a gentleman, and has plenty of money to buy what he likes.  Don't you know that you ought not to take jewellery from any gentleman?   I will go home to mortgage and not annoy you any more. Nonsense Prim, I won't call you baby unless you deserve it. Do you know the address of the gentleman who gave these to you? You must send them back at once. Primula knew the address, but vowed she would keep her property. He bought them, he gave them to her, and there was nothing wrong about it. Hetty gave up talking to her and went to bed, and Primula cried herself to sleep with the treasures under her pillow. The next day, Hetty, in some distress, consulted Anthony about Primula's earrings. Anthony was greatly disturbed. I will talk to her, he said. Leave her to me, and I will make her give them back. And he spent an hour alone with her, breaking down her stubborn childish will. At the end of that time he returned to Hetty, flushed and triumphant, looking as if he had been routing an army and bearing in his hand a little box containing the earrings of paper on which Primula had scrawled some words. The present went back to its donor, and Primula was sulky for a week. One evening, when the spring was coming round again, Anthony called as usual for Primula, but found that she had left the workroom early, as if for home. Arrived at the old bookshop, he learned that she had not returned there since leaving, as usual, in the morning for her work. She has gone for a walk with some of her companions, suggested Hetty. Alone replied Anthony, and he thought of the earrings. I must go and look for her. Outside the town of Smokeford, there were some pleasant downs where, in fine weather, the townspeople loved to turn out for an evening walk. It was too early in the season as yet for such strollers, and yet Anthony, when he had gone a little way on the grass, could describe two figures moving slowly along in the twilight. These were Primula and the gentleman who had given her the earrings, a person whom Anthony had been watching very closely for the past, whom he had often perceived following upon Primula's steps and whom, for his own part, he detested and despised. Primula, he said, walking up to the young girl and ignoring her companion, come home. It is too late for you to be here unprotected. Primula pouted and hung her head. The young lady is not unprotected, said the gentleman, smiling. And pray, sir, who are you? I am her nearest masculine friend, said Anthony, wrathfully. I stand here at present in her father's place. The gentleman laughed. You were too young to be her father. He said, go away, young man, and I will bring her safely to her home when she wishes to go. Primula, said Anthony, white with anger, go yonder directly to the tree and wait there till I join you. The girl, terrified out of her senses, turned and fled as she was bitten. The gentleman raised his stick to strike an insolent tradesman who had dared to defy him. But before it could descend, Anthony had grappled with him. There was a struggle, and Primula's admirer lay stretched on the green. Anthony brought home the truant in silence, and for many days he came in and out of the house and did not speak to her. Primula sulked and fretted and was miserable because Anthony looked so crossly at her. Anthony was moody and dull and heady with a vague sense of coming trouble, and what it all could mean. End of Section 4 Section 5 of The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Brett Montgomery The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories by Rosa Mulholland The Country Cousin Chapter 3 Old Tony Spence was taken ill that spring, and Heady was a good deal occupied in attending on him. Anthony came as usual in the evenings, but he did not expect to see Heady much, and Primula and he amused themselves together. Heady's face got paler during this time, and she fell into a habit of indulging in reveries, which were not happy ones if one might judge by the knotted clasp of her hands and the deep line of pain between her brows. Her housekeeping duties were hurried over. She fetched the wrong book from the bookshelves for customers. Her sewing was thrown aside. Her only wish seemed to be to sit behind her father's bed curtain, with her head leaned against the wall and her eyes closed to the world. Sorrow was coming to seek for her, and she hid from it as long as she could. One night Old Spence asked to have a particular volume brought him from the shop, and Heady took her lamp in hand and went down to fetch it for him. This light already burning in the place, which Heady did not at first perceive, as she opened the door at the top of the staircase and put her foot on the first step to descend. She went down a little way, but was stopped by the sound of voices. Anthony and Primula were there. Yes, Primula was saying in her soft, cooing voice, I love you better than anyone. You fought for me, and I love you. Heady murmured Anthony. Heady won't mind, whispered Primula. She gives me her money and her ribbons. She won't refuse to give me you too, I'm sure of that. They moved a little from behind the screen of a projecting stand of books, and saw Heady standing on the stairs, gazing straight before her and looking like a sleepwalker.  Heady started, turned and fled up into the sitting room, shutting the door behind her. She sat down at the table and leaned her head heavily upon her hands. The blow she had been half-dreading, to be an impossibility, had fallen and crushed her. Anthony loved her no more. He had taken away his love from her and given it to Primula, who, with pleading eyes and craving hands, had robbed and cheated her. The greediness which she had tried to satisfy with ribbons and shillings had not scrupled to grasp the only thing she would have kept and held till death as her very own. Heady's thoughts spun round and round in the whirl of new and uncomprehended agony. She had no thought of doing or saying anything, no wish to take revenge, nor to give reproach. She was stunned, bruised, benighted and willing to die. Primula came creeping up the staircase after crying for an hour all alone among the old books. Life was very troublesome, thought Primula. Everybody was selfish and cross and everything was either wrong or disagreeable. People petted and loved her one moment and were angry with her the next. Anthony had rushed away from her in a fit of grief, although she had told him she loved him and had given up a fine gentleman for his sake. Heady, who used to be so tender with her and so ready to give her everything, had looked so dreadfully there on that step of the stairs that she, Primula, was afraid to go up though she was tired and longing to be in bed. Sobbing and fretting, she crept up the staircase and, her desire to be comfortable overcoming her fear, she opened the door of the sitting room and came in. Heady was sitting quietly at the table with her head leaned on her hands and she did not look up. That is a good thing, thought Primula. How dreadful if she were to scold me. To his will it is not her way to make her talk about things.  It was quite late at night when Heady followed her into the bedroom and then Primula was fast asleep with a sheet pulled over her head and face as if she would hide herself from the glance of Heady's anger even while she was happily unconscious of it. Heady's lamp burned itself out and she kneeled down in the dark to say her prayers. Her knees bent themselves mechanically in a certain corner of the room but no words would come to Heady's lips and no clear thoughts to her mind.  Nothing would come into her mind but pictures of the happy hours that Anthony and she had spent together in their love. She fell asleep stupidly dwelling on these memories and unable to realise that Anthony had given her up. Then she dreamed that she had awakened out of a terrible dream in which Anthony had seemed to have forgotten her for Primula. How joyful she was in that dream! How she laughed and sang for ecstasy and chatted about the foolish fancies that will come into people's minds when they are asleep. And then she awakened and saw the dawn light shining on Primula's golden head and sweetly tinted face and she knew and remembered that Primula was the beloved one and that she, Heady, was an exile and an outcast from her paradise for evermore. Then in that moment of exquisite anguish in the leisure of the quiet dawn a terrible passion of anger and hatred broke out in her breast. Everything that the light revealed had something to tell of her lost happiness. Every moment that sped was bringing her nearer to the hour when she must rise up and give Anthony to Primula and stand aside and behold their bliss and accept their thanks. She dare not let that moment come. She would not have it. She could not confront it. She should do them some mischief if fewer to see them together again before her as she had seen them last night. What then was she to do with herself? She did not kill them. She could not wish them dead. It would not comfort her at all that they should suffer or be swept out of the world to atone for their sin. They had murdered her heart and they could not by any suffering of theirs bring back the dead to life. What then must she do with herself? The only thing that remained for her was to get away far out of their sight and out of their reach never to behold them nor to hear of them again between this and the coming of her death. She sprang out of bed and dressed herself hastily keeping her back turned upon the sleeping Primula and creeping down the stairs she got out of the house. She felt no pang at leaving her home and never once remembered her father her only thought was to get away away where Anthony could never find her more. She hurried along the deserted streets and got out on the downs and then she slackened her speed a little quite out of breath. She knew that the path across the downs led to a little town about ten miles away in the direction of London. She had been too long accustomed to the practical management of her father's affairs not to feel conscious from mere habit and without reflection that she must work when she got to London in order to keep herself unknown. She would help in a shop somewhere in the meantime her only difficulty was to get there. The whirl of her passion had carried her five miles away from Smokeford when she came to a little roadside inn. She was faint with exhaustion feeling the waste caused by excitement want of sleep and food and by extraordinary exertion. She bought some bread and sat on a stone at the gate of her field to eat it. She saw the ploughman come into the field at a distant opening and watched him coming towards her with a grey head and stooping figure an old man meekly submitting his feebleness to the yoke of the day's labour though knowing that time had deprived him of his fitness for it. Yet he watched him. Her eyes followed him as if fascinated. The look in his face had drawn her out of herself somehow and made her forget her trouble. She wanted to go and help him to hold the plough to ask if he had had his breakfast to put a hand on his shoulder and be kind to him. She did not know what it was about him and wished her. He turned his plough beside her and as he did so he noticed the pale girl sitting by the gate and a smile lit up his rugged face. Then it was that Hetty knew why she had watched him. He looked like her father. Her father he was ill and she had deserted him had left him among those who would vex and neglect him. The untasted bread fell from Hetty's hands the tears overflowed her eyes she fell prone on the grass and sobbed for her own wickedness and for the grief and desolation of the sick old man at home. What is the matter Lass? asked the old ploughman currently bending over her. Hetty rose up ashamed. Sir she said humbly I was running away from my father who is ill but I am going back to him. That is right Lass stick by the poor old father maybe he was hard on you oh no no he never was hard on me I have a sorrow of my own sir that made me mad I forgot all about him until I saw his look in your face I shall run back now sir and be in time to get him his breakfast. The clock of the roadside in struck six and Hetty set off running back to Smokford. She ran so fast that she had not time to think of how she should act when she got home. When arrived there she found she could have a long day to think of it for Primula had gone to her work room and there was nobody about the house but Sib and her father and herself. The old man had never missed her but Sib met her on the threshold and looked at her dusty garments with a wondering face. Well Hetty she said you did take an early start out of us this morning I wanted to walk said Hetty throwing off her cloak and making a change in her forlorn appearance is my father's breakfast ready I'm afraid I am late Old Tony Spence did not even remark that his daughter was unusually pale nor that her dress was less neat than usual as she carried in his tea and toast. She was there and that was everything for him that she had been this morning flying like a hunted thing from Smokford sobbing in the grass five miles away from her home that he had lost her forever only for a strange old man following a plough in a distant field of these things he could never know. Hetty was one of the people who do not complain of the rigour of the struggle that has passed. All day she sat by her father's side and the old place behind the bed curtain he was getting better and showed more lively interest in the world than she had seen in him since he first fell ill through the window he could see as he lay the little roof garden which had been accustomed to look gay every summer for years he was colourless now and untrimmed Hetty dear he said how is it that you have been neglecting your flowers perhaps you think it isn't worthwhile to keep up the little garden any longer you will be going off with Anthony is any day settled for the wedding? no father said Hetty keeping her white drawn face well behind the curtain we could not think of that until you are on your feet again in spite of her effort to save him the pain of an unhappy thought just now something in her voice struck upon the old man strangely he was silent for a while and lay ruminating Hetty let me see your face Hetty looked forth from her hiding place unwillingly but kept her face as much as possible from the light what do you want with the daddy you have seen it before there is a comely face Hetty and others have thought so besides me I don't like to look on it now my girl child what's the matter with you out with it this minute if he is going to failure it will be a black day for the man I will murder him hush hush he is the king of the kind denied then this minute until we know lie Hetty sat silent and scared is it that doll from Mooridge that has taken his fancy he has not told me so my lass why do you play hide and seek with your old father I know it is as I have said let me rise do not hold me for I will horse whip him to death Hetty held him fast by the wrists I will turn her out of doors without a character and though I am a weak old man I will punish him before the eyes of the town for a moment Hetty's angry heart declared in silence that they would deserve such punishment and that she could bear to see it but she said father you know you will do neither of those cruel things listen to me father I am tired of Anthony let him go with Primula you and I will be happy here together when they are gone the old man fell back on his pillow exhausted after a time he drew his daughter towards him took her face between his hands and looked at it let it be as you say he said only don't let me see them you are a brave girl and I will never scold you again we will be happy when they are gone we will finish that little book of mine and and his voice became indistinct and he dropped suddenly a slate Hetty sat on in her corner thinking over her future and thanking heaven that she had at least this loving father left to her after an hour or two had passed she looked up and noticed a change in the old man's face he was dead end of section 5 section 6 of the Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and other stories this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org recording by Brett Montgomery The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and other stories by Rosa Mulholland The Country Cousin Chapter 4 it was new and awful to Hetty to have neither father nor lover to turn to in her desolation she got over one terrible week and then when the old man was fairly under the clay and she was gone and fell ill and Sib nursed her Primula hung about the house feeling guilty and uncomfortable and Anthony came sometimes to ask how Hetty feared he brought fruit and ice for her offering them timidly and Sib accepted them gladly and poured out her anxiety to him all unconscious that there was anything wrong between the lovers Primula sulked at Anthony who seemed to be thinking much more of Hetty and Spencer's happy little home was already a thing of the past Hetty thought she would be glad to die but people cannot die through mere wishing and so she got better when she was able to rise Sib carried her into the little sitting room and placed her in her father's old armchair and seated here one warm summer evening she sent to beg Anthony to come and speak with her Anthony's heart turned sick within him as he looked on the wreck of his once adored Hetty wasted cheeks and hollow eyes made a striking contrast to Primula's fair smooth beauty yet in her spiritual gaze and on her delicate lips there still sat a charm which Anthony knew of old and still felt a charm which Primula never could possess we are not going to talk about the past said Hetty when the first difficult moments were over I only want to tell you that Primula and you are not to look on me as an enemy I am her only living friend she shall be married from here and then we will separate and meet no more you are too good too thoughtful for us both Hetty he added hesitatingly I dare not apologise for my conduct nor ask your forgiveness I can only say I did not intend it I know not how it came about she bewitched me Hetty bowed her head with a cold stately little gesture backed out of the room feeling himself rebuked dismissed, forgiven he went to Primula and Hetty sat alone in the soft summer evening just where they too had sat a year ago planning their future life she is too good for me as he walked up the street Primula will vex me more but she will suit me better still he felt a bitter pang as he told himself that Hetty's love for him was completely gone it should be so but still he knew well that Primula could never be to him the sweet enduring wife that Hetty would have been he knew also that his love for Primula was not of the kind that would last whereas Hetty would have made his peace for all time well the mischief was done now and could not be helped he hardly knew himself how he had slipped into his present position when Hetty found that she had indeed got to go on with her life she at once said about marking out her future her husband living on an American prairie with her husband and little children who would often wish that Hetty would come out to her and Hetty determined to go she sold off the contents of the old bookshop only keeping one or two volumes which with her father's unfinished manuscript she stowed away carefully in her trunk Primula had given up her work at the dressmakers and was busy making her clothing for her wedding Hetty was engaged in getting ready for her journey the two girls sat all day together sewing they spoke little and there was no pretense of cordiality between them Hetty had strained herself to her utmost for this friendless creature who had wronged her but she could find no smiles nor pleasant words to lighten the task pale and silent she did her work with trembling fingers and a frozen heart Primula on her side sulked at Hetty as if Hetty had been the aggressor and sighed and shed little tears between the fitting on and the trimming of her pretty garments in the evenings Primula was to want to fold up her sewing and go out to walk with Anthony supposed Hetty who sometimes allowed herself to weep in the twilight and sometimes walked about the darkening room chafing for the hour to come which would carry her far away from these old walls with their intolerable memories so Hetty endured the purgatory to which she had voluntarily condemned herself Anthony came into the house no more Primula had her walks with him and sometimes it was very late when she came home but Hetty never cheered her now Primula was her own mistress and could come and go as she liked from under this roof which her cousins generosity was upholding over her head one evening a gossip of the neighbourhood one who had known Hetty and her cradle came in with a long piece of knitting in her hands to sit an hour with Hetty and keep her company and so they do say you were going to America she said all alone that long journey and everybody thinking this many a day that it was you that was to marry Anthony Frost and now it is that Primula people did say my dear that they have treated you badly between them but I couldn't believe that and you behaving so beautifully to them of course it shuts people's mouths to see the girl stopping here with you and preparing for her wedding said Hetty I cannot take the trouble to contradict idle stories Anthony Frost is a very old friend and Primula is my cousin it would be strange if I did not try to be of use to them of course there is no reason for you being angry with them but all the same my dear you would have been a far better wife for him than that flighty little fool that he has chosen he has changed his mind about many a thing it seems for he has taken a house in Smokeford and he is setting up as a cabinet maker instead of turning out a sculptor no less as some people said he had a mind to do well well it is none of my business to be sure and I do hope they will be as happy as if they had both been a bit wiser I see no reason why they should not be happy said Hetty to act her part to the end and the gossip went away protesting to her neighbours that there never could have been anything but friendship between Anthony and Hetty there is no girl that had been cheated could behaviour as she is doing said the gossip and she says brave is a lion about the journey to America and after this people found Hetty not so interesting as they had thought at some time ago the time for the wedding approached Primula's pretty dresses and knick-max of ornaments were finished and folded in a trunk and rearranged them took them out and tried them on and put them back again she went out for her evening walks and Hetty waited up for her return and let her into the house in the fine starlight of the summer nights and the two girls went to bed in silence and neither sought to know anything of the thoughts of the other and so it went on till the night that was the eve of Primula's wedding on that night Primula went out as usual and did not come back the arrangement for the next day had been that Anthony should be married early in the morning and go from church to their home Hetty intended starting on her own journey a few hours later but she said nothing about her intention wishing to slip away quietly out of her old life at the moment when the minds of her acquaintance were occupied and their eyes fully filled with the wedding she did not wonder that Primula should stay out late on that particular evening it was a beautiful night the sky a dark blue the moonlight soft and clear Hetty wanted restlessly in and out the few narrow chambers of her old home once so delightful and beloved now grown so dreary and haunted and saw the silver light shining on the roofs and chimneys and on the dead flowers and melancholy evergreens of her little roof garden only a year ago she had cherished those withered stalks with Anthony by her side and had smiled together over their future in the glory of the sunrise now all that fresh morning light was gone the blossoms were withered away and her heart was withered also faith and hope were dead and life remained with its burden to be carried she shut her eyes from sight of the deserted walls with their memories and thought of the great worldwide sea which she had never beheld but must now reach and cross and she longed to be on its bosom with her burden the hours passed and Primula did not return Hetty thought this strange but he did not concern her Primula and her lover and their affairs seemed to have already passed out of her life and left her alone she did not go to bed all night and she knew she was waiting for Primula but her mind was so lost in its own loneliness that it could not dwell upon the conduct of the girl the daylight broke and found her sitting pale and astonished in the empty house and then her eyes fell on a letter which the night shadows had hidden from her were it lay on the table it was written in Primula's scratchy writing and was addressed to Hetty to be married Antony and you were very good to me once but you were too cold and stern for me lately the person I am going with is kinder and pleasanter I am to be married in London and after that I am to be taken to travel when I come back I shall be a grand lady and I shall come to Smokeford and I shall order some dresses from Miss Flounce I can tell you I am very glad that Antony and you can be married after all he was always thinking of you more than me I could see that this long while back I hope you will be happy and that you will be glad to see me on my return you are affectionate, Primula Hetty sat a long time motionless quite stupefied with the letter in her hand poor little ungrateful mortal thought she heaven shield her and keep her from harm and then she thought of her own little cup of life happiness spilled on the earth for this oh what waste what waste oh Hetty twisting the note in her fingers and then she straightened it and folded it again and put it in an envelope attressed to Antony and she hastened to send it to him lest the hour should arrive for the wedding and the bridegroom should come into her presence seeking his bride when this had been dispatched she set about courting her trunks and taking her last farewell of Sib who was too old to follow her to America and was now heartbroken at staying behind when the last moment came she ran out of the house without looking right or left and she was soon in the coach and the coach was on its way to the seaport from whence her vessel was to sail when Anthony received the note he felt much anger and amazement but very little grief Primula's audacity electrified him and then he remembered that she was not treating him worse than he had treated Hetty let her go she was a light creature and would have brought him misery if she had married him her soft foolish beauty and bewitching ways faded from his mind after half an hour's meditation and Anthony declared himself free and there was Hetty still in her nest behind the old bookshop as sweet and as precious as when they were lovers a year ago the last few months were only a dream and this was the satisfactory awakening Hetty's pale cheeks would become round and rosy once more she must forgive him for the past so urgently would he plead with her how exceedingly badly he had behaved Anthony put on his hat and went out to take a walk along a road little frequented eager to escape from the gaze of his acquaintance in the town anxious to think things thoroughly over and to consider how soon he could dare to present himself to Hetty not for a long time he was afraid he remembered her stern pale look when he had last seen her and how sure he had felt when turning away from her that her love was dead a chill came over him and he hung his head as he walked over quite like other girls and it might be it might be that her heart would be frozen to him forever more just at this moment a cloud of dust enveloped Anthony and the male coach passed him whirling along at rapid speed Hetty was in the coach and she saw him walking dejectedly on the road alone with his trouble she turned her face away lest he should see her and then her heart gave one throb that made her lean from the window and wave her hand to him in farewell he saw her he rushed forward the coach whirled round a bend of the road Hetty was gone End of Section 6 Section 7 of The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories by Rosa Mulholland The Hungry Death Chapter 1 It has been a wild night and in his boffin an Irish island perched far out among Atlantic breakers as the bird flies to Newfoundland Whoever has weathered an ocean hurricane will have some idea of the fury with which the tempest assaults and afflicts such lonely rocks The creatures who live upon them at the mercy of the winds and waves build their cabins low and put stones on the roof to keep the thatch from flying off on the trail of Mother Kerry's chickens and having made the sign of the cross over their threshold at night they sleep soundly undisturbed by the weird and appalling voices which have sung alike the lullaby and death-keen of all their race In winter rain and storm are welcome to rage round them even though fish be frightened away and food be scarce But when wild weather encroaches too far upon the spring then threats of the hungry death are heard with fear in its mutterings Is anyone to blame for this state of things? The greater part of the island is barren bog and rock No shrub will grow upon it and so fiercely is it swept by storm that the land by the northern and eastern coasts is only a picturesque wilderness all life sheltering itself in three little thatched villages to the south The sea is the treasury of the inhabitants and no more daring hearts exist than those that fight these waves often finding death in their jaws But a watt of even the rudest peers as defends against the Atlantic makes the seeking of bread upon the waters a perilous and often an entirely impossible exploit Boffin is of no mean size and has a large population Lighthearted and frugal the people feel themselves a little nation and will point out to you with pride the storied interest of their island In early ages it was a seat of learning witness the ruins of Saint Cullman's school and church In Elizabeth's day the queen built herself a fort on a knoll facing the glories of the western sky and on the straggling rocks which formed the harbour Cromwell raised those blackened walls still welded into the rock and fronting the foam The island has a church a school, a store where meal, oil, soap, ropes, etc can be had except when contrary winds detain the hooker which applies to and from Galway with such necessaries Foreign sailors weather bound in Boffin are welcomed and invited to make merry Pipers and fiddlers come and go and, when times are pretty good are kept busy making music for dancing feet Even when the wolf is within a pace of the door laughter and song will ring about his ears so long as the monster can be beaten back by one neighbour from another neighbour's threshold but there comes a day when he enters where he will and the bones of the people are his prey Last night's was a spring storm and many a Lord have mercy on us went up in the silent hours as the flooding rain that unearths the seedlings was heard seething on the wind Yet Boffin wakened out of its nightmare of terror green and gay birds caroling in a blue sky and the ring of the boat-maker's hammer suggesting peace and prosperity Through the dazzling sunshine a girl came rowing herself in a small boat that darted rapidly along the water The oars made a quick pleasant thud on the air The lark sang in the clouds and the girl poured out snatches of a song of her own in a plaintive and mellow voice The tune was wild and mournful the words Irish Thud, thud went the oars The girl's kerchief fell back from her head as the firm elastic figure swayed with the wholesome exercise Never was a fairer picture of health, strength, and beauty Her thick dark red hair filled with the sunshine as a sponge fills with water Her red brown eyes seemed to emit sparks of fire as the shadows deepened round them in the strong light Two little round dimples fixed in the corner of the proud, curved mouth whispered a tale of unusual determination lying at the bottom of a passionate nature There was nothing to account for her curious choice of a song this brilliant morning except the love of dramatic contrast that exists in some eager souls Suddenly she shipped her oars and sat listening to the waves lapping the edges of the seaweed fringed cliffs I thought I heard someone calling me she muttered, looking up and down with a slight shudder but a bold gaze Brigid, Brigid, Brigid Then with a little laugh she dipped her oars again burst into a lively song so reeling with merriment that it was wonderful how she found breath for it and her boat flew along the glittering waves like a goal Above the broad shelving shingly beach within the harbour stood the school, the store and some of the best dwellings on the island and high and dry on the gleaming shingle the boat-maker was at work with a knot of gossips around him the sky over their heads was a vivid blue the brown fringed rocks loomed against a sea almost too dazzling to look upon the dewy green fields lay like scattered emeralds among the rocks and hollows Lord, look to us, said a man in a sow-wester hat the spring doesn't mend half my praties was washed clean out of the ground last night Wished, man, wished said the boat-maker cheerfully picked them up and put them in again Badad, said an old fisherman the fish has got down to the bottom of all eternity you might as well go fishing for mermaids aren't ye's ashamed to grumble cried a hardy voice joining the group and such a morning is this I tell ye, last night was the last of the rain ye have the hopes of youth about ye called Prendergast said the old fisherman looking at the strong frame and smiling bronzed face of the young man before him if your words is not truth it's the seaweed will be eaten a foreign next winter's out some of it doesn't taste so bad said Kahl, laughing and a little of it dried makes capitol tobacco, but wished Bridget LaVelle come all the way from west quarter in her pretty canoe the sound of oars had been heard coming steadily nearer and suddenly Bridget's boat shot out from behind a massive rock making, with its occupant such a picture on the glittering sea that the men involuntarily smiled as they shaded their eyes with their hands to look resting on her oars she smiled at them in return while the sunshine gilded her oval face as brown as a berry burnished the copper-hued hair rippling above her black-curved brows and deepened the determined expression of her full red mouth her dress, the costume of the island was only remarkable for the freshness and newness of its material a deep crimson skirt of wool with a light print bodice and short tunic and a white kerchief thrown over the back of her head as she neared the shore Coles spring into the water drew her canoe close to the rocks and, making it fast, helped her to land that's a handsome pair, said the old fisherman to the boat-maker I hear their matches as good as made Coles and Luck, said the other a rich beauty is not for every man she's too proud, I'm thinking look at the years of her now and him wet up to the knees in her service good man, and ye forget your courton let the creature toss her head while she can Bridget had proceeded to the store where her purchases were soon made a sack of mill a can of oil a little tea and sugar and some white flour the girl had a frown on her handsome brows as she did her business and took but little notice of Call who busied himself gallantly with her packages the boat he handed her in and stood looking at her wondering if she would give him a smile in return for his attentions let me take yours, Bridget you'll be home in half the time no, thank ye she answered shortly I'll row my own boat as long as I can Call smiled broadly half amused and half admiring and again sought for a friendly glance at parting but in vain the sight behind the cliff was as cold and proud as though he had been her enemy after he had turned and was striding up the beach the look that he had wanted to see followed him shot through a rift in the rocks where Bridget paused and peered with a tenderness in her eyes that altered her whole face if Call had seen that look this story might never have been written as the girl's boat sped she frowned thinking how awkward it was that she should have met Call Prendergast on the beach he must have known the errand that brought her to the store and how dare he smile at her like that before he knew what answer she would give him Call's uncle and Bridget's father had planned a match between the young people and the matchmaking was to be held that night at Bridget's father's house therefore had she come early bringing in her boat to the store to buy provisions for the evening's entertainment obedience to her father had obliged her to do this but her own strong will revolted from the proceeding she was proud, handsome and an heiress and did not like to be so easily won Bridget's father was sitting at the fire a consumptive looking man with a wistful and restless eye Father, I have brought very little flower the hooker hasn't got in soar a wonder in such storms tis late in the year for things to be this ways Bridget arranged her little purchases on the dresser and sat down at the table but her breakfast a few roasted potatoes and a tin mug of buttermilk remained untasted before her Father isn't you and me happy as we are why need I marry in such a hurry because a lone woman's better with a husband, my girl I'm not a lone woman haven't I got you not for long havernin macri I'm ready in to go this good while but I will hold you back cried Bridget passionately throwing her strong arms around his neck you can't as Thorin I'm wanted yonder and it's time I was getting on with my purgatory and there's bad times coming and I will not let you face them alone I could pack up my bundles and be off to America said Bridget stoutly dashing away tears I will not have you wander and over the world like a stray bird her father said emphatically and Bridget knew there was nothing more to be said Laval's prosperity appeared before the world in a great deal of clean whitewash outside the house and an interior more comfortable than is usual on the island the cabin consisted of two rooms the kitchen with earthen floor and heather-lined roof roosting-place for cocks and hens and with its dresser old and worm-eaten showing a fair display of crockery and the best room containing a bed, a few pictures of sacred subjects, some seashells on the chimney-piece an ornamental tray an old gun and black and crucifix against the wall this last having been washed ashore one morning after the wreck of a Spanish ship this was the finest house in Boffin and Tim Laval, having returned from seeing the world and married laden life, had settled down in it and on the most fertile bit of land on the island it was thought he had a stocking full of money in the thatch which would of course be the property of his daughter so no wonder that some Brigid had grown up a little spoiled with the knowledge of her own happy importance she went about her affairs this morning she owned to herself that she would not be sorry to be forced to be Cal's wife in spite of her pride true he had paid her less court hitherto than any other young man on the island and she longed to punish him for that but what would come of her if she saw him married to another oh if they had only left the matter to herself she could of managed it so much better could of plagued him to her heart's content and made him anxious to win her by means of the difficulties she would of thrown in his way had Cal been as poor as he seemed to be with nothing but his boat and fishing tackle she would of been easier to woo for then eagerness to bestow on him the contents of that stocking in the thatch would of swept away the stumbling block of her pride but his uncle had saved some money which was to be given to Prendergast on the day of his marriage with her it was a made-up match like Julio Flattery's while Bridget's proud head was crazed on the subject of being loved for her love's sake alone I'll have to give him my hand tonight she said folding her brown arms and standing straight in the middle of the room she had been dusting and decorating I be to obey father and I'll shame nobody of four the neighbors but matchmaking isn't marrying and if it was to break my heart and do my death I'll find means to plague him into loving me yet having made this resolve she let down her long hair that looked dark bronze while she sat in the corner putting on her shoes and turned to gold as she walked through a sun-bean crossing the floor and having brushed it out and twisted it up again in a coil round her head she finished her simple toilet and went out to the kitchen to receive her visitors the first that arrived was Julio Flattery an old woman with a smoke-dried face who sat down in the chimney corner and lit her pipe Juli was arrayed in a large patchwork quilt folded like a shawl being too poor to indulge in the luxury of a cloak but the quilt made of red and white calico patches was clean and the cap on her head was fresh and neat I'll give you the joy of Carl Pendergast said Juli Hardley you ought to be the glad girl to get such a match why ought I be glad as Bridget Angrily it's all as one may think holy mother girl don't be sending them red sparks out of your eyes at me where do you see the likes of Cole I'm asking with his six feet if he's an inch and his eyes like the blue on the wreck of four nightfall Bridget's heart leaped to hear him praised and she turned away her face to hide the smile that curled her lips and your match no easy made for a ye without trouble to either a ye not like some poor creatures that have to round the world before they can get one to put a roof over their heads or a bit in their mouths it's me that knows sure and I wasn't a wanderin' being doin' days work in the mountains and as pretty a girl as you miss Bridget only I hadn't the stocking in the thatch nor could father to be settlin' for me and sore and tired and spent I was when one night I heard a knock at the door of the house I was workin' and a voice called out get up Judy here's a man come to marry you maybe I didn't dress quick and who was there but a woman that do my mother long ago and she had met a widow man that wanted somebody to look after his childer and she brought him to me and wakin' me out of my sleep for fear he'd take the roux and we sat or the fire for the rest of the night to make the match and in the first morning light he went down to father daily and got married there's my marriage for thee and the rounds I had to get it and many a one is like me and yet you're tossin' your head at coal you that hasn't as much as the trouble will be an axed the smile had gone off Bridget's face this freedom from trouble was the very thing that troubled her she would rather have had the excitement of being axed a hundred questions as they talked the sunshine vanished and the rain again fell in torrents Bridget looked out of the door with a mischievous hope that the guests might be kept at home and the matchmaking postponed Judy rocked herself and groaned oh musher the piety's the piety's oh lord look down with mercy on the poor then suddenly became silent and began telling her beads a slight lull in the storm brought the company in a rush to the door with bursts of laughter groans for the rain and the potatoes shaking and drying of cloaks and coats and squealing and tuning up of pipes among the rest came call smiling and confident as ever with an arched look in his eyes when they met Bridget's and not the least symptom of fear or anxiety in his face soon the door was barred against the storm the fish oil lamp lighted laughter song and dancing filled the little house and the rotting potatoes and the ruinous rains were forgotten as completely as though the boffin population had been goddesses and gods with whose nectar and ambrosia no such thing as weather could dare to interfere faith you must dance with me Bridget said call after she had refused him half a dozen times why must I dance with you oh now don't you know what's going on in there said call roguishly signing towards the room where father and uncle were arguing over money and land I do said Bridget with all the fire of her eyes blazing out upon him but mind ye this matchmaking is none of my doing why then Averine I'm not going to marry a man that only wants a wife and doesn't care a pin whether it's me or another be dad I do care said call awkwardly I'm a bad hand at speaking but I care entirely but Bridget went off and danced with another man call was puzzled he did not understand her in the least he was a simple straightforward fellow and had truly been in love with Bridget a fact which his confident manner had never allowed her to believe laterally he had begun to feel afraid of her whenever he tried to say a tender word that red light in her eyes would flash and strike him dumb he had hoped that when their match was made she would have grown a little kinder but it seemed she was only getting harsher instead well he would try and hit on some way to please her and as he walked home that night he pondered on all sorts of plans for softening her proud temper and satisfying her exacting mind on her side Bridget saw that she had startled him out of his ordinary easy humor and congratulating herself on the spirit she had shown resolved to continue her present style of proceeding not one smile would she give him till she had, as she told herself nearly tormented him to death how close she was to keep to the letter of her resolution could not at this time be foreseen every evening after this call travelled across half the island to read some old treasured newspaper to the sickly Lavelle and bringing various little offerings to his betrothed everything that Boffin could supply in the way of a loved gift was sought by him and presented to her now it was a few handsome shells purchased from a foreign sailor in the harbor or it was the model of a boat he had carved for her himself and all this attention was not out its lasting effect unfortunately, however while Bridget's heart grew more soft her tongue only waxed more sharp and her eyes more scornful the more clearly she perceived that she would soon have to yield the more haughty and capricious did she become had the young man been able to see behind outward appearances he would have been thoroughly satisfied and a good deal startled at the vehemence of the devotion that had grown up and strengthened for him in that proud and wayward heart as it was he felt more and more chilled by her continued coldness and began to weary of a pursuit which seemed unlikely to be either for his dignity or his happiness meanwhile the rain went on falling the spring was bad the summer was bad potatoes were few and unwholesome the turf lay undried and rotting on the bog distress began to pinch the cheerful faces of the islanders and laughter and song were half-drowned in murmurs of fear at the sight of so much sorrow and anxiety around her Bridget's heart began to ache and to smite and reproach her for selfish and unruly humours one night softened by the sufferings of others she astonished herself by falling on her knees and giving humble thanks to heaven and happiness that was awaiting her she vowed that the next time call appeared she would put her hand in his and let the love of her heart shine out in the smiles of her eyes had she kept this vow it might have been well with her but her habit of vexing had grown all too strong to be cured in an hour at the first sight of her lover's anxious face in the doorway all her passion for tormenting him returned it was an evening in the end of May the day had been cold and wet and as dark as January but the rain had ceased the clouds had parted and one of those fiery sunsets burst upon the world that sometimes appear unexpectedly in the midst of stormy weather in Boffin where the sun drops down the heavens from burning cloud to cloud and sinks in the ocean the whole island was wrapped in a crimson flame Bridget stood at her door gazing at the wonderful spectacle of the heavens and sea looking herself strangely handsome with her bronze hair glittering in the ruddy sunlight and that dark shadow about her eyes and brows which, except when she smiled always gave a look of tragedy to her face she was waiting for call with softened lips and downcast eyes and was so lost in her own thoughts that she did not see when he stood beside her he remained silently watching her for a few moments thinking that if she would begin to look like that he would be ready to love her as well as he had ever loved her and to forget that he had ever wearied of her harassing scorn but this very moment Bridget was rehearsing within her mind a kind little speech which was to establish a good understanding between them I'm sorry I vexed you so often for I love you true where the words she had meant to speak but suddenly seeing Call by her side the habitual taunt flew involuntarily to her lips you here again she said disdainfully then no one can say but you're the perseverance man in the island maybe I'm too persevering said Call quietly and as Bridget looked at him with covert remorse she saw something in his face that frightened her his expression was a mixture of weariness and contempt he was not hurt or angry or amused as she had been accustomed to see him but tired of her insolence which was ceasing to give him pain a sudden consciousness of this made Bridget turned sick at heart and she felt that she had at last gone a little too far that she had been losing him all this time while triumphantly thinking to win him oh why could she not speak the word that she wanted to say while this anguish came into her thoughts her brows grew darker than ever and the warmth ebbed gradually out of her cheek they went silently into the house where Bridget took up her knitting and Call dropped into his seat beside Lavelle the bad times the rotting crops the scant expectations of a harvest were discussed by the two men while Bridget sat fighting with her pride and trying to decide on what she ought to say or do before she had made up her mind Call had said good evening abruptly and gone out of the house the young fisherman's home was in middle quarter village a cluster of gray stone cabins close to the sea and to reach it Call had to cross almost the whole breath of the island he set out on his homework walk with a weary and angry heart Bridget's dark and yielding face followed him and he was overwhelmed by a fit of unusual depression he whistled as he went trying to shake it off why should he fret about a woman who disliked him and probably loved another whom her father disapproved let her do what she liked with herself and her purse Call would persecute her no more the red light had slowly vanished off the island and the dark cliffs on the oceanward coast large and black against the still lurid sky deep drifts of brown and purple flecked with amber swept across the bogs and filled up the dreary horrors of the barren and irreclaimable land which Call had to traverse on his way to the foam drenched village where the fisherman lived the heavens cooled to paler tints a ring of yellow light encircled the island with its creeping shadows on the rocks twilight was descending when Call heard a faint cry from the distance like the call of a belated bird or the wail of a child in distress at first he thought it was the wind or a plover but straining his eyes in the direction whence it came he saw a small form standing solitary in the middle of a distant hollow a piece of treacherous bog dangerous in the crossing except to knowing feet in a spot he found himself just in time to sucker a fellow creature in distress approaching as near he could with ease to the person who had summoned him he saw a very young girl standing gazing towards him with piteous looks she was small slight, poor and scantily clad and carried a creel full of sea-rack on her slight and bending shoulders a pale after gleam from the sky fell where she stood young and forlorn in the shadowy solitude and lit up a face round and delicately pale reminding one of a daisy a wreath of wind-tossed yellow hair and eyes as blue as forget-me-nots terror had taken possession of her and she stretched out her hands appealingly to the strong man who stood looking at her from the opposite side of the bog Call observed her in silence for a few moments it seemed as if he had known her long ago and that she belonged to him yet, if so, it was in another state of existence for he assured himself that she was no one with whom he had any acquaintance however that might be he was determined to know more of her now for, with her child-like appealing eyes and outstretched hands she went straight into Call's heart to nestle there like a dove for evermore I easy ath-soreen cried Call across the bog I'm going to look after you never you fear he crossed the morass with a few rapid springs and stood by her side give me the krill, Avernane till I land it for you safe a few minutes and the burden was deposited on the safe side of the bog and then Call came back and took the young girl in his arms keep a good hold around my neck, McCree it was a nice feat for a man to pick his way through the bog with even so small a woman as this in his arms the girl clung to him in fear as he swayed and balanced himself on one sure stone after another slipping here and stumbling there but always recovering himself before mischief could be done at last the deed was accomplished the goal was won you were frightened, Akushla said Call tenderly I was fearing a drowned in you said the girl looking wistfully in his face with her great blue eyes sore a matter if you had said Call laughingly except that maybe he had been drowned too now which ways are you going and maybe you be after telling me who you are I'm Moya Meilier said the girl and I live in Middle Quarter Village why you're never little Moya that I used to see playing round Meilier's door that's dead and gone how did you grow up in that ways in the night mother says I'll never grow up laughed Moya but I'm sixteen on May morning and I'll be content to be as I am many a fine lady would give her fortune to be content with that same said Call striding along with the creel on his shoulders and glancing down every minute at the sweet flower-like face that flitted through the twilight at his side thus Brigid's repentance would now come all too late for Call had fallen in love with little Moya how he brought her home that night to a bare and poverty-stricken cabin in the sea-washed fishing village and restored her like a stray lamb to her mother need not be told her mother was a widow and the mother of seven and Moya's willing labor was a great part of the family's support she mended nets for the fishermen and carried rack for the neighbor's land knitted stockings to be sent out to the great world and sold and did any other task which her slender and eager hands could find to do Call asked himself in amazement how it was that having known her as a baby he had never observed her existence since then now an angel he believed had let her out into the dreary bog to stand waiting for his sore heart on that blessed day of days and he would never marry anyone but little Moya it was impossible they could marry while times were so bad but every evening after this Moya might be seen perched on an old boat upon the shingle busy with her knitting her tiny feet bare and so brown crossed under the folds of her old worn red petticoat rose pink in her pale cheeks and a light of extraordinary happiness in her childlike blue eyes Call lay on the shingle at her feet and these two found an Elysium in each other's company there was much idleness perforce for the men of Boffin at this time and Call filled up his hours looking after the concerns of the widow Malier carrying Moya's burdens and making the hard times as easy for her as he could when people would look surprised at him and ask are a thin what about Brigid Lavelle Call would answer oh she turned me off long ago everybody knows she could not bear the sight of me in the meantime Brigid at the other end of the island was watching daily and hourly for Cole's reappearance as evening after evening passed without bringing him her heart misgave more and more and she mourned bitterly for her own harshness and pride oh if only he would come once again with that wistful questioning look in his brave face how kindly she would greet him how eagerly put her hand in his grasp as the rain rained on through the early summer evenings there would often come before sunset a lightning and brightening all over the sky and this was the hour which Brigid used to look for her now ever absent lover climbing to the top of the hill she would peer over the sea-bound landscape with its dark stretches of bog and strips and flecks of green towards the grey irregular line of the fishing village the smoke of which she could see hanging against the horizon her face grew paler and her eyes dull but to no one not even to her father would she admit that she was pining for Cole's return she had always lived much by herself and had few gossiping friends to bring her news at last, unable to bear the suspense any longer she made an excuse of business at the store on the beach and before she had gone far among the houses of that metropolis of the island she was enlightened as to the cause of her lover's defection so you cast him off so you give him to little Moya Malier were the words that greeted her wherever she turned out at her head as if heartily assenting to what was said and content with the existing state of things but as she walked away out of the reach of observing eyes her face grew dark and her heart throbbed like to burst in her bosom almost mechanically she took her way home through the middle quarter village with a vague desire to see what was to be seen and to hear whatever was to be heard she passed among the houses without observing anything that interested her but as she left the village by the seashore she came upon Kahl and Moya sitting on a rock in the yellow light of a watery sunset with a mist of sea foam around them and a net over their knees which they were mending between them their heads were close together and Kahl was looking at her face with the very look which all these tedious days and nights were worrying to meet she walked up beside them and stood looking at them silently with a light in her eyes that was not good to behold Brigid, said Kahl when he could bear it no longer for heaven's sakes are you not satisfied yet? she turned from him and fixed her strange glance on Moya it was me before and now it's you she said shortly he's a constant lover isn't he true and you scoffed and scorned me said Kahl gently as the gleam of anguish and despair in her eyes startled him I wasn't good enough for Brigid but I'm good enough for Moya we're neither of us rich nor as clever as you but we'll do one another well enough Brigid laughed a sharp sudden laugh and still looked at Moya for heaven's sakes take that wicked look off her face cried Kahl hastily and never way it is between the three of us is your own doing and whether you like it or not it cannot now be helped I will never forgive either of you said Brigid in a low hard voice and then turning abruptly away she set out on her homeward walk through the gathering shadows End of Section 7 Section 8 of The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories by Rosa Mahaland The Hungry Death Chapter 2 all through that summer the rain fell and when autumn came to Boffin there was no harvest either of fuel or of food the potato seed had been for the most part washed out of the earth without putting forth a chute while those that remained in the ground were nearly all rotted by a loathsome disease the smiling little fields that grew the food were turned into blackened pits giving forth a horrid stench winter was beginning again the year having been but one long winter with seas too wild to be often braved by even the sturdiest of the fishermen and the fish seeming to have deserted the island accustomed to exist on what would satisfy no other race and to trust cheerfully to Providence to send them that little out of the earth and out of the sea the people bore up cheerfully for a long time living on a massive Indian mill once a day mingled with such edible seaweed as they could gather on the rocks so long as shopkeepers in Galway and other towns could afford to give credit to the island the hooker kept bringing such scanty supplies as were now the sole sustenance of the impoverished population but credit began to fail and the universal distress on the mainland gave back an answering wail to the hunger cry of the boffinners it is hard for anyone who has never witnessed such a state of things to imagine the condition of ten or twelve hundred living creatures on a barren island griddled round with angry breakers the strong arms among them paralyzed first by the storms that dash their boats to pieces and rend and destroy their fishing gear and the devastation of the earth that makes labour useless and later by the faintness and sickness which come from hunger long endured and the cold from which they have been once accustomed as they are to the hardships of recurring years of trial the boffinners became gradually aware that a visitation was at hand for which there had seldom been a parallel earth and sea alike barren and pitiless to their needs whence could deliverance come unless the heavens rained down manna into their mouths alas no miracle was wrought and after a term of brave struggle in providence cheerful pushing off the terrible fears for the worse after this laughter music song faded out of the island feet that had danced as long as it was possible now might hardly walk and the weakest among the people began to die troops of children that a few months ago were rosy and sturdy sporting on the seashore now stretched their emaciated limbs by the fireless hearths and wasted to death before their maddened mother's eyes the old and ailing vanished like flax before a flame digging of graves was soon the chief labor of the island and a day seemed near at hand when the survivors would no longer have strength to perform even this last service for the dead Levelle and his daughter were among the last to suffer from the hard times and they shared what they had with their poor neighbors but in course of time the father caught the fever which famine had brought in its train and was quickly swept into his grave while the girl was left alone in possession of their little property with her stocking in the thatch and her small flock of beasts in the field her first independent act was to dispatch all the money she had left by a trusty hand to Galway to buy meal in one of those pauses in the bad weather which sometimes allowed a boat to put off from the island the meal arrived after long unavoidable delay and Brigid became a benefactor to numbers of her fellow creatures late and early she trudged from village to village and from house to house doling out her meal to make it go as far as possible till her own face grew pale and her steps slow for she stinted her own food to have the more to give away her beasts grew lean and ejected why should she feed them at the expense of human life they were killed and the meat given to her famishing friends the little property of the few other well-to-do families in like manner melted away and it seemed likely that rich and poor would soon all be buried in one grave in the widow Malier's house the famine had been early at work five of Moya's little sisters and brothers had one by one sickened and dropped upon the cabin floor the two elder boys still walked about looking like galvanized skeletons and the mother crept from wall to wall of her house trying to pretend that she did not suffer and to cook the mess of rank-looking seaweed which was all they could procure in the shape of food call risked his life day after day trying to catch fish to relieve their hunger but scant and few were the mills that all his efforts could procure from the sea white and gaunt he followed little Moya's steps as with the spirit of a giant she kept on toiling among the rocks for such weeds or shellfish as could be supposed to be edible when she fell call bore her up but the once powerful man was not able to carry her now her lovely little face was hollow and pinched the cheekbones cutting through the skin her sweet blue eyes were sunken and dim her pretty mouth purple and strained her beauty and his strength were alike gone three of the boys died in one night and it took call wasted as he was two days to dig a grave deep enough to bury them before that week was over all the children were dead of starvation and the mother scarcely alive one evening call made his way slowly across the island from the beach carrying a small bag of mill which he had unexpectedly obtained now and again his limbs failed and he had to lie down and rest upon the ground but with long perseverance and unconquerable energy he reached the little fishing village at last as he passed the first house Bridget Lavelle, pallid and worn the specter of herself came out of the door with an empty basket call and she stared at each other in melancholy amazement it was the first time they had met since the memorable scene on the rocks many months ago for call's entire time had been devoted to the malees and Bridget had persistently kept out of his way striving, by charity to others, to quench the fire of angry despair in her heart call would scarcely have recognized her in her present death-like guise had it not been for the still living glory of her hair the sight of call's great frame once so stalwart and erect now stooping and attenuated his lusterless eyes and blue cold lips struck horror into Bridget's heart she uttered a faint, sharp cry and disappeared call scarcely noticed her his thoughts were so filled with another and a little further on he met Moya coming to meet him walking with a slow, uneven step that told him of the whirling of the exhausted brain half-blind with weakness she stretched her hands before her as she walked the hungry death is on my mother at last oh, call come in and see her the last door her wished McCree look at the beautiful taste of mail I'm bringing her hard work I had to carry it from the beach for the eyes of the creatures is like a wolf's eyes and I thought the longing of them dragged it out of my hands and Moya, there's help coming from God to us there's kind people out in the world that's thinking of our need the man that has just landed with a sack and give me this says there's a hooker full of mail on its road to us this day may the great Lord send us weather to bring it here I'm feared I'm feared it's too late for her sobbed Moya, clinging to him they entered the cabin where the woman lay a mere skeleton covered with skin with the life still flickering in her glassy eyes call put a little of the mill as it was between her lips while Moya hastened to cook the rest on a fire made of the dry roots of Heather the mother turned loving looks from one to the other tried to swallow a little of the food to please them gasped, shuddered a little and was dead a long hard task for call and Moya to bury her and when this was done they sat on the Heather clasping each other's wasted hands the sky was dark the storm was coming on again as night approached a tempest was let loose upon the island and many famishing hearts that had throbbed with a little hope at the news of the relief that was on its way to them now groaned, sickened and broke in despair louder howled the wind and the sea raged around the dangerous rocks towards which no vessel could dare to approach it was the doing of the most high said the perishing creatures his scourge was in his hand might his ever-blessed will be done that evening Moya became delirious and call watched all night by her side at morning light he fled out and went round the village crying out desperately to God and man to send him a morsel of food to save the life of his young love the suffering neighbors turned pitying eyes upon him I'm feared it's all over with her when she can't taste the seaweed any more said one why don't you go to Bridget Lavelle said another she hasn't much left, poor girl but maybe she'd have a mouthful for you till this moment call had felt that he could not go begging of Bridget now that Moya's precious life was slipping rapidly out of his hands he would suffer the deepest humiliation she could heap upon him if only she would give him so much food as would keep breath in Moya's body till such time as by Heaven's mercy the storm might abate and the hooker with the relief mill arrive Bridget was alone in her house a little porridge for some poor creature simmered on a scanty fire and the girl stood in the middle of the floor her hands wrung together above her head and her brain distracted with the remembrance of Kaal as she had seen him stricken by the scourge all these months she had told her jealous heart that the Malie's were safe enough since they had called to take care of them so long as there was a fish in the sea he would not let them starve neither need be in any danger himself and so she had never asked a question about him or them now the horror of his altered face haunted her she had walked through the direst scenes with courageous calm but this one unexpected sight of woe had maddened her a knock came to the door which at first she could not hear for the howling of the wind but when she heard and opened there was Kaal standing before her meal he said faintly a little meal for the love of Christ Moya is dying a spasm of anguish and tenderness had crossed Brigid's face at the first words but at the mention of Moya her face darkened why should I give to you or Moya she said coldly there's them that needs the help as much as ye but not more pleaded Kaal oh Brigid I'm not asking for myself I fear I vexed ye though I did not mean it to harm will ye give me a morsel to save her from the hungry death I said I never would forgive either of ye and I never will said Brigid slowly ye broke my heart and why wouldn't I break yours Brigid perhaps neither you nor me has much longer to live will ye go before your judge with such black words on your lips that's my affair she answered in the same hard voice and then suddenly turning from him shut the door in his face she stood listening within expecting to hear him returning to implore her but no further sound was heard and when she found he was gone she dropped upon the floor with a shriek and rocked herself in a frenzy of remorse for her wickedness but I cannot help everyone she moaned I'm starving myself and there's nothing but a handful of mail at the bottom of the bag after a while she got up and carried the mess of porridge to the house for which she had intended it and all that day she went about doing what charity she could and not tasting anything herself returning she lay down on the heather overcome with weakness fell asleep and had a terrible dream she saw herself dead and judged a black-winged angel put the mark of Cain on her forehead and at that same moment Moya went, glorified and happy hand in hand into heaven before her eyes depart from me you accursed thundered in her ears and she started wide awake to hear the winds and waves roaring unabated round her head wet and shivering she struggled to regain her feet and stood irresolute where to go dreading to return to her desolate home she mechanically set her face towards the little church on the cliffs of the beach on her way to it she passed prostrate forms dying or dead on the heather on the roadside and against the cabin walls a few weekly creatures digging graves begged from her as she went past but she took no notice of anything living or dead making straight for the church no one was there and the storm howled dismally through the empty barn-like building bare whitewashed walls and a rude wooden altar with a painted tabernacle and cross this was the church on one long wall was hung a large crucifix a white thorn-crowned figure upon stakes of black painted wood which had been placed there in memory of a mission lately preached on the island and on this bridged burning eyes to fix themselves with an agony of meaning slowly approaching it she knelt and stretched out her arms uttering no prayer but swaying herself monotonously to and fro after a while the frenzied pain of remorse was doled by physical exhaustion and a stupor was stealing over her senses when a step entering the church startled her back to consciousness looking round she saw that the priest of the island had come in and was weirdly dragging himself towards the altar Father John was suffering and dying with his people he had just now returned from a round of visits among the sick during which he had sped some departing soul on their journey and given the last consolation of religion to the dying his own gaunt face and form bore witness to the unselfishness which had made all his little worldly goods the common property of the famishing before he had reached the rails of the altar Bridget had thrown herself on her face at his feet save me Father save me child, the sin of murder is on my soul nonsense child no such thing it is too much that you have been doing my poor Bridget I fear the fever has crazed your brain listen to me Father Moya is dying and there is still a couple of handfuls of mail in the bag call came and asked me for her and I hated her because he left me and I would not give it to him and maybe she is dead you refused her because you hated her said the priest God help you my poor Bridget just through you can't save every life but you must try and save this one Bridget glanced at him brightly at first as if an angel had spoken and then the dark shadow fell again into her eyes the priest saw it look there my poor soul he said extending a thin hand towards the figure on the cross did he forgive his enemies or did he not Bridget turned her fascinated gaze to the crucifix fixed them on the thorn-crowned face and uttering a wild cry got up and tottered out of the church spurred by terror lest her amend should come too late and Moya be dead before she could reach her she toiled across the heather once more over the dreary bogs and through the howling storm some of suffering and exhaustion were on her brow as she carefully emptied all the meal that was left of her store into a vessel and stood for a moment looking at it in her hand there isn't enough for all of us she said and some of us be to die it was always her or me her or me and now it'll be me may Christ receive me Moya as I forgive you and then she kissed the vessel and put it under her cloak leaving the house she was careless to close the door behind her feeling certain that she would never cross the threshold again and straining all her remaining strength to the task she urged her lagging feet by the shortest way to the middle-quarter village dire were the sight she had to pass upon her way many a skeleton hand was outstretched for the food she carried but Bridget was now deaf and blind to all appeals she saw only call's accusing face and Moya's glazing eyes staring terribly at her out of the rain-clouds reaching the Malier's cabin she found the door fastened against the storm call was kneeling in despair by Moya when a knocking at the door aroused him the poor fellow had prayed so passionately and was in so exalted a state that he almost expected to see an angel of light upon the threshold bringing the food he had so urgently asked for the priest had been there and was gone and the neighbors were sunk in their own misery why should anyone come knocking like that unless it were an angel bringing help trembling he opened the door and there was Bridget or her ghost am I in time? gasped she as she put the vessel of food in his hand hey! said call, seizing it in his transport of delight he would have gone on his knees and kissed her feet but before he could speak she was gone with her should she go now was Bridget's thought no use returning to the desolate and lonesome home when either food nor fire was any longer to be found she dreaded dying on her own hearthstone alone and feigned as she was she knew what was now before her gaining the path to the beach she made a last pull on her energies to reach the whitewashed walls above which her fading eyes just barely discerned the cross the only face she now wanted to look upon was that thorn-crowned face which was waiting for her in the loneliness of the empty and windswept church falling fainting dragging herself on again she crept within the shelter of the walls a little more effort and she would be at his feet the struggle was made blindly desperately with a last rally of all the passion of a most impassioned nature and at last she lay her length on the earthen floor beneath the cross darkness silence peace settled down upon her the storm raved around the night came on and when the morning broke Bridget was dead mildly and serenely that day had dawned a pitiful sky looked down on the calamities of Boffin and the vessel with the relief mill sailed into the harbor for many even then alive the food came all too late but to numbers it brought assagement and salvation the charity of the world was at work and though much had yet to be suffered yet the hungry death had been mercifully stayed thanks to the timely help Moya lived for better times health was somewhat restored she emigrated with call to America every night in their distant backwoods hut they pray together for the soul of Bridget Levelle who, when in this world had loved one of them too well and died to save the life of the other End of Section 8 Section 9 of The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories This is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Sonja The Haunted Organist of Hurley Burley and Other Stories by Rosa Mulholland Crescent an idol on the mozel it was evening in the ancient town of Trier the Angeles was ringing down from the great fortress like Doom the little carts and stalls had vanished out of the marketplace and the carved saints clustered on the fountain smiled benignly in the setting sun old women in strange headdresses beads and books in hand passed in and out of St. Gondorf's Curious Gates young girls with long fair plated hair moved in groups across the open place brilliant uniforms shone up on the balconies of the Rote House the shopkeepers in the queer little peaked houses stood at their doors and amused themselves while the awful black arches of the Porta Negra frowned more grimly than ever in the glowing light and the gay and quaint little frescoes at the street corners seemed to blaze out with new color at its touch one particularly high-peaked roof was suddenly covered with a flock of white pigeons alighting to rest and at the same moment the open window among the birds looked up and down the streets and was withdrawn again the face belonged to a young girl and the room into which she was drew was pleasant and neat if a little bare a work table at the window showed that it was the home of a seamstress a little shrine hung in a corner with a tiny lamp burning a few rude pictures decorated the walls the girl was clothed in a holiday dress with white sleeves and apron and wore a scarlet flower in her breast she had a soft sweet innocent face and her fair hair hung behind in two long golden braids from her neck to her knees as she turned from the window a curly-haired boy burst into the room I have a message for you Crescents I met Carl and he told me to tell you he could not see you tonight he is suddenly sent on business a look of disappointment crowded the girl's face but after a few moments of silence she said how good it is that they find him so useful but come Max you shall not be disappointed of your excursion you and I will go for our walk and I will take you for a peep at our cottage Max snatched his head which he had flung off in disgust and looking the door behind them the sister and brother descended many stairs and took their way through the streets and out by the Porta Negra into the country look here Max did you ever see anything so gloriously blue as the Moselle this evening could you bear to live away from it how glad I am that our new home will be near it and look how magnificent the red light is upon the vine-covered banks with the crimson earth glowing between how the tall dark poplars and the golden acacia seem to thrill as they bask in this wonderful light if I had been a man, Max I should certainly have tried to be an artist Carl laughs at me when I say so he does not care for such things and gets annoyed when I talk about them and yet I never saw half the beauty of things till he loved me how many people are out walking to night crescent I never saw the road so gay oh, there is that Gretchen kissing her hands to me and I will not look at her why? because she was impertinent this morning that Carl had left off loving you and was going to marry Louise it was a silly joke, Max I hope you did not get angry what did you say? something that ought to have stopped her kissing hands to me said Max it was too foolish to be angry about little brother someone said it to myself the other day and I only laughed I knew so well it was because I sent Carl a message by Louise the other evening but Gretchen ought not to have said it to you, Max when I go to my new home I don't think I shall ask her to come and see me I do not want to hate anybody and I will do the hating for you crescents and I hate everyone who says that Carl does not love you everyone don't give such a big name to two people, Max if Carl did not love me should not I be the first to know of it? ah, do you see our little house peeping above the acacia up in the fields over there how delightful it will be to live there, Max with all the flowers growing in at one's windows and Carl is providing this home for me our little Max this looks rather like a loving one, doesn't it? Max was silent and kept his face turned away with a slight frown on the browse I wish I could suddenly grow big crescents he said abruptly the sister laughed my dear, you must wait she said gaily by and by you shall copy your brother Carl if you can manage to grow like him you will do very well in the meantime you are not quite so small as you were my boy when I first took you in my arms and carried you about our poor Garrett trying to put you to sleep mother had died the day before I was ten years old and you had only just been born I was a very little nurse, wasn't I? but it seemed to me that my heart was a hundred years old how proud I was of you and how I loved you and you worked for me crescents ah didn't I we were alone in the world only you and me I paid a poor old woman a very very old woman who could not do anything else a penny a day for taking care of you and I worked for us too I was a strong little girl and as industrious as a bee people gave me work to do it was very hard until I was about fourteen and then I learned to sew and things began to be better I had a room for myself and so bring home my little brother I'm Max how often we have been hungry together and yet you are a brave boy for your age I have pulled you through the worst and now God has taken us both into happiness and safety no more scanty crusts for you no more sitting up all night sewing by a candle for me no more pinching at the heart when rent day is coming round who could have thought of it could have sought out me I did not accept him hastily, Max for I was afraid he might change his mind afraid that he had not known what he was saying or that he did not know perfectly how much people thought of him but he would persist in loving me he would indeed and that is why I laugh so much when the people tell idle tales if you only knew my good people I think if you only knew how well I know and Max see I do not mind saying anything to you I must confess that the greatest trouble I have had lately has been the fear that so much sitting up at night was taking away all my good looks I look so sickly sometimes when the morning light comes in stare me well in the face, Max and tell me if I am getting ugly you are the prettiest and loveliest girl in the town, sister Cressens but I am not rosy like Gretchen nor are my eyes so big and bright as Louise's nor no matter persisted, Max not one of them can smile the way you do after that I must say something nice to you, Max sit down here on the grass and let me tell you the kind of life we shall have over in our little house yonder we shall have four rooms of our own and there are vines growing around all the windows we shall have a pretty garden with bees and flowers and a field with a cow in it sitting under a tree, looking down on the Moselle you will go to work with Carl and in the evening you will both come home and we shall have supper in the garden I wish we had some now Cressens I wish we had my boy and I think it is time to go and look for some coffee and bread the sister and brother turned their steps towards a pleasant summer house of refreshment built among trees upon the high overhanging bank of the river where the people of Trier love to drink coffee in the cool of the evening as the girl and child took their simple meal in the nook of the projecting terrace the blue Moselle rushed under their feet and Trier lay based in ruddy glory in the distance before their eyes with his strange contrasting outlines softened into magnificent harmony and the fierce black Roman gates making a frown on the very front of the sunny landscape how splendid it looks the dear old town, cried Cressens do you know, Max, I cannot understand why people ever leave their own homes to go out into the world I should like to go out and see the world said Max you mustn't say so, Max nothing would ever induce me to leave Trier they were rambling among the trees on the hillside stopping now and then to lean forward and take a fresh peep at the beauty of the river and the exquisite gleams of the distance on either side oh Cressens, Cressens I have found a pair of lovers no, have you, Max? said Cressens with interest behind that large tree in such a pretty nook just peep round and you can see hide then while I peep so carefully Max retired while Cressens leaned forward with a smile of mischievous delight and peered from behind the screen of leaves herself unseen by the objects of her interest when the boy thought he had waited long enough he came forth again and plucked her by the skirt she turned to him slowly and put her finger on her lip Cressens, Cressens whispered the child what makes your face so dreadful? are they ghosts? hush, Max I cannot see, take me by the hand and get me into some quiet place where nobody will find us oh Cressens, you are ill are you going to die? no, dear, I shall not die have water and tell nobody Max obeyed and while the red-light pale on the moselle and purple mingled with the crimson and Olive of its banks the girls' white face lay on the moss gazing blankly upward with fixed eyes the tears trickled over Max's innocent cheeks as he nestled at her side and kissed her lips her hands and her hair oh Cressens, may I not call someone to come and help you home? no, dear, no the young girls, starting up. We are not going home any more. We are going away somewhere else. You and I together." "'What? Away from Trier?' "'Yes. I am tired of Trier.' "'I thought you said you could never leave Trier. And what will Carl say to you?' "'Oh, Max! Oh, Max! Where shall we sleep tonight if we keep walking on at this rate? We shall rest on the road, and to-morrow we will travel farther. There are other towns besides Trier, where industrious people can get work to do. Oh, Crescent, I am afraid you have gone mad. Those people behind the trees must have been the wicked spirits we read about, and they have harmed you. Do you know who they were, Max?' Carl and Louise. "'Gretchen was right after all. But did they say they were going to be married?' said the boy. "'Oh, don't groan, Crescent, and I will try and ask no more questions.' "'Dear Max, there is nothing more for me at Trier. That is why we are going together out into the world.  Hush! You must not talk such nonsense. You must take care of me now, as I have nobody else. That I will indeed. But, oh, Crescent, my canary! Somebody will take care of it, dear. We can get another.  Somebody else will kneel at it. I can pray to God anyway, you know.' Deepening shadows dropped on the moselle, and the two young figures hurried on through the purple twilight, away from Trier. End of Section 9