A to Z Classics - Bram Stoker - The Complete Novels

As I knew that gossip and the requirements of his horse would keep Andy away for a while, I determined to take advantage of his absence to run up to the top of the hill, just to make sure that no one was there. It did not take long to get up, but when I arrived there was no reward, except in the shape of a very magnificent view. The weather was evidently changing, for great clouds seemed to gather from the west and south, and faraway over the distant rim of the horizon the sky was as dark as night. Still, the clouds were not hurrying as before a storm, and the gloom did not seem to have come shoreward as yet; it was rather a presage of prolonged bad weather than bad itself. I did not remain long, as I wished to escape Andy’s scrutiny. Indeed, as I descended the hill I began to think that Andy had become like the “Old Man of the Sea,” and that my own experience seemed likely to rival that of Sindbad.

When I arrived at the cutting I found Andy already seated, enjoying his pipe. When he saw me he looked up with a grin, and said audibly:

“The Good People don’t seem to be workin’ so ‘arly in the mornin’. Here he is safe an’ sound among us.”

That was a very long day. Whenever I thought I could do so, without attracting too much attention, I strolled to the top of the hill, but only to suffer a new disappointment.

At dinner-time I went up and sat all the time. I was bitterly disappointed, and also began to be seriously alarmed. I seemed to have lost my Unknown.

When the men got back to their work, and I saw Andy beginning to climb the hill in an artless, purposeless manner, I thought I would kill two birds with one stone, and, while avoiding my incubus, make some inquiries. As I could easily see from the top of the hill, there were only a few houses all told in the little hamlet; and including those most isolated, there were not twenty in all. Of these I had been in the sheebeen and in old Sullivan’s, so that a stroll of an hour or two, properly organised, would cover the whole ground; and so I set out on my task to try and get some sight or report of my unknown. I knew I could always get an opportunity of opening conversation by asking for a light for my cigar.

It was a profitless task. Two hours after I had started I returned to the top of the hill as ignorant as I had gone, and the richer only by some dozen or more drinks of milk, for I found that the acceptance of some form of hospitality was an easy opening to general conversation. The top was still empty, but I had not been there a quarter of an hour when I was joined by Andy. His first remark was evidently calculated to set me at ease:

“Begor, yer ‘an’r comes to the top iv this hill nigh as often as I do meself.”

I felt that my answer was inconsequential as well as ill-tempered:

“Well, why on earth, Andy, do you come so often? Surely there is no need to come, unless you like it.”

“Faix, I came this time lest yer ‘an’r might feel lonely. I niver see a man yit be himself on top iv a hill that he didn’t want a companion iv some kind or another.”

“Andy,” I remarked, as I thought, rather cuttingly, “you judge life and men too much by your own experience. There are people and emotions which are quite out of your scope — far too high, or perhaps too low, for your psychic or intellectual grasp.”

Andy was quite unabashed. He looked at me admiringly.

“It’s a pity yer ‘an’r isn’t a mimber iv Parlyment. Shure, wid a flow iv language like that ye could do anythin’!”

As satire was no use, I thought I would draw him out on the subject of the fairies and pixies.

“I suppose you were looking for more fairies; the supply you had this morning was hardly enough to suit you, was it?”

“Begor, it’s meself is not the only wan that does be lukin’ for the fairies!” and he grinned.

“Well, I must say, Andy, you seem to have a good supply on hand. Indeed, it seems to me that if there were any more fairies to be located on this hill it would have to be enlarged, for it’s pretty solid with them already, as far as I can gather.”

“Augh! there’s room for wan more! I’m tould there’s wan missin’ since ere yistherday.”

It was no good trying to beat Andy at this game, so I gave it up and sat silent. After a while he asked me:

“Will I be dhrivin’ yer ‘an’r over to Knockcalltecrore?”

“Why do you ask me?”

“I’m thinking it’s glad yer ‘an’r will be to see Miss Norah.”

“Upon my soul, Andy, you are too bad. A joke is a joke, but there are limits to it; and I don’t let any man joke with me when I prefer not. If you want to talk of your Miss Norah, go and talk to Mr. Sutherland about her. He’s there everyday and can make use of your aid. Why on earth do you single me out as your father-confessor? You’re unfair to the girl, after all, for if I ever do see her I’m prepared to hate her.”

“Ah! yer ‘an’r wouldn’t be that hard! What harrum has the poor crathur done that ye’d hate her — a thing no mortial man iver done yit?”

“Oh, go on! don’t bother me any more; I think it’s about time we were getting home. You go down to the sheebeen and rattle up that old corn-crake of yours; I’ll come down presently and see how the work goes on.”

He went off, but came back as usual; I could have thrown something at him.

“Take me advice, surr: pay a visit to Shleenanaher, an’ see Miss Norah,” and he hurried down the hill.

His going did me no good; no one came, and after a lingering glance around, and noting the gathering of the rain clouds, I descended the hill.

When I got up on the car I was not at all in a talkative humor, and said but little to the group surrounding me. I heard Andy account for it to them:

“Whisht! don’t notice his ‘an’r’s silence! It’s stupid wid shmokin’ he is. He lit no less nor siventeen cigars this blessed day. Ax the neighbors av ye doubt me. Gee up!”

The evening was spent with Dick as the last had been. I knew that he had seen his girl; he knew that I had not seen mine, but neither had anything to tell. Before parting he told me that he expected to shortly finish his work at Knockcalltecrore, and asked me if I would come over.

“Do come,” he said, when I expressed a doubt; “do come, I may want a witness;” so I promised to go.

Andy had on his best suit, and a clean wash, when he met us smiling in the early morning. “Look at him,” I said; “wouldn’t you know he was going to meet his best girl?”

“Begor,” he answered, “mayhap we’ll all do that same!”

It was only ten o’clock when we arrived at Knockcalltecrore, and went up the boreen to Murdock’s new farm. The Gombeen Man was standing at the gate with his watch in his hand. When we came up, he said:

“I feared you would be late. It’s just conthract time now. Hadn’t ye betther say good-bye to your hind an’ git to work?”

He was so transparently inclined to be rude, and possibly to pick a quarrel, that I whispered a warning to Dick. To my great satisfaction he whispered back:

“I see he wants to quarrel; nothing in the world will make me lose temper to-day.” Then he took out his pocket-book, searched for and found a folded paper. Opening this he read: “‘and the said Richard Sutherland shall be at liberty to make use of such assistant as he may choose or appoint when soever he may wish during the said engagement at his own expense.’ You see, Mr. Murdock, I am quite within the four walls of the agreement, and exercise my right. I now tell you formally that Mr. Arthur Severn has kindly undertaken to assist me for to-day.” Murdock glared at him for a minute, and then opened the gate and said:

“Come in, gintlemin.” We entered.

“Now, Mr. Murdock!” said Dick, briskly, “what do you wish done to-day? Shall we make further examination of the bog where the iron indication is, or shall we finish the survey of the rest of the land?”