I think it was about nine or ten days after his formal instalment in his new house, just as I was reading after breakfast the Freeman's Journal of two days past, the door of my parlor1 was suddenly flung open, a bunch of keys was thrown angrily on the table, and a voice (which I recognized as that of Mrs. Darcy, the chapel2 woman), strained to the highest tension of indignation, shouted:—
"There! and may there be no child to pray over my grave if ever I touch them again! Wisha! where in the world did you get him? or where did he come from, at all, at all? The son of a jook! the son of a draper over there at Kilkeel. Didn't Mrs. Morarty tell me how she sowld socks to his ould father? An' he comes here complaining of dacent people! 'Dirt,' sez he. 'Where?' sez I. 'There,' sez he. 'Where?' sez I. I came of as dacent people as him. Wondher you never complained. But you're too aisy. You always allow these galivanters of curates to crow over you. But I tell you I won't stand it. If I had to beg my bread from house to house, I won't stand being told I'm dirty. Why, the ladies of the Great House said they could see their faces in the candlesticks; and didn't the Bishop3 say 't was the natest vestry in the diocese? And this new cojutor with his gran' accent, which no one can understand, and his gran' furniture, and his whipster of a servant, begor, no one can stand him. We must all clear out. And, after me eighteen years, scrubbing, and washing, and ironing, wid me two little orphans4, which that blackguard, Jem Darcy (the Lord have mercy on his sowl!) left me, must go to foreign countries to airn me bread, because I'm not good enough for his reverence5. Well, 't is you'll be sorry. But, if you wint down on your two binded knees and said: 'Mrs. Darcy, I deplore6 you to take up them kays and go back to your juties,' I wouldn't! No! Get some whipster that will suit his reverence. Mary Darcy isn't good enough."
"De thrifle of money you owe me, yer reverence, ye can sind it down to the house before I start for America. And dere's two glasses of althar wine in the bottle, and half a pound of candles."
She went out again, but returned immediately.
"The surplus is over at Nell O'Brien's washing, and the black vestment is over at Tom Carmody's since the last station. The kay of the safe is under the door of the linny[1] to de left, and the chalice8 is in the basket, wrapped in the handkercher. And, if you don't mind giving me a charackter, perhaps, Hannah will take it down in the evening."
She went out again; but kept her hand on the door.
"Good by, your reverence, and God bless you! Sure, thin, you never said a hard word to a poor woman." Then there was the sound of falling tears.
To all this tremendous philippic I never replied. I never do reply to a woman until I have my hand on the door handle and my finger on the key. I looked steadily9 at the column of stocks and shares on the paper, though I never read a word.
"This is rather a bad mess," said I. "He is coming out too strong."
The minute particulars I had from Hannah soon after. Hannah and Mrs. Darcy are not friends. Two such village potentates10 could not be friends any more than two poets, or two critics, or two philosophers. As a rule, Hannah rather looked down on the chapel woman, and generally addressed her with studied politeness. "How are you to-day, Mrs. Darcy?" or more frequently, "Good morning, Mrs. Darcy." On the other hand, Mary Darcy, as arbitress at stations, wakes, and weddings, had a wide influence in the parish, and I fear used to speak contemptuously sometimes of my housekeeper11. But now there was what the newspapers call a Dual12 Alliance against the newcomers, and a stern determination that any attempt at superiority should be repressed with a firm hand, and to Mrs. Darcy's lot it fell to bear the martyrdom of high principle and to fire the first shot, that should be also the final one. And so it was, but not in the way Mrs. Darcy anticipated.
It would appear, then, that Father Letheby had visited the sacristy, and taken a most minute inventory13 of its treasures, and had, with all the zeal14 of a new reformer, found matters in a very bad state. Now, he was not one to smile benignantly at such irregularities and then throw the burden of correcting them on his pastor15. He was outspoken16 and honest. He tore open drawers, and drew out their slimy, mildewed17 contents, sniffed18 ominously19 at the stuffy20 atmosphere, flung aside with gestures of contempt some of Mrs. Darcy's dearest treasures, such as a magnificent reredos of blue paper with gold stars; held up gingerly, and with curled lip, corporals and purificators, and wound up the awful inspection21 with the sentence:—
Now, you may accuse us in Ireland of anything you please from coining to parricide24, but if you don't want to see blazing eyes and hear vigorous language don't say, Dirt. Mrs. Darcy bore the fierce scrutiny25 of her menage without shrinking, but when he mentioned the ugly word, all her fury shot forth26, and it was all the more terrible, because veiled under a show of studied politeness.
"Good heavens, woman!" he said, "what do you mean? There is dirt everywhere, in the air, under my feet, in the grate, on the altar. It would take the Atlantic to purify the place."
"You're the first gentleman that ever complained of the place," said Mrs. Darcy. "Of coorse, there aren't carpets, and bearskins, and cowhides, which are now the fashion, I believe. An' dere isn't a looking-glass, nor a pianney; but would your reverence again show me the dirt. A poor woman's charackter is all she has."
"I didn't mean to impute28 anything to your character," he said, mildly, "but if you can't see that this place is frightfully dirty, I suppose I can't prove it. Look at that!"
He pointed29 to a grewsome heap of cinders30, half-burnt papers, brown ashes, etc., that choked up the grate.
"Yerra. Glory be to God!" said Mrs. Darcy, appealing to an imaginary audience, "he calls the sweepings31 of the altar, and the clane ashes, dirt. Yerra, what next?"
"This next," he said, determinedly33; "come here." He took her out and pointed to the altar cloth. It was wrinkled and grimy, God forgive me! and there were stars of all sizes and colors darkening it.
"Isn't that a disgrace to the Church?" he said, sternly.
"I see no disgrace in it," said Mrs. Darcy. "It was washed and made up last Christmas, and is as clane to-day as the day it came from the mangle34."
"Do you call that clean?" he shouted, pointing to the drippings of the candles.
"Yerra, what harm is that," said she, "a bit of blessed wax that fell from the candles? Sure, 't is of that they make the Agnus Deis."
"You're perfectly35 incorrigible," he said. "I'll report the whole wretched business to the parish priest, and let him deal with you."
"Begor you may," said she, "but I'll have my story first."
And so she had. Father Letheby gave me his version afterwards. He did so with the utmost delicacy36, for it was all an indirect indictment37 of my own slovenliness38 and sinful carelessness. I listened with shamed face and bent39 head? And determined32 to let him have his way. I knew that Mrs. Darcy would not leave for America just yet.
But what was my surprise on the following Sunday, when, on entering the sacristy to prepare for Mass, I slid along a polished floor, and but for the wall would probably have left a vacancy40 at Kilronan to some expectant curate. The floor glinted and shone with wax; and there were dainty bits of fibre matting here and there. The grate was black-leaded, and there was a wonderful firescreen with an Alpine41 landscape. The clock was clicking steadily, as if Time had not stood still for us all for many years: and there were my little altar boys in snowy surplices as neat as the acolytes42 that proffered43 soap and water to the Archbishop of Rheims, when he called for bell and book in the famous legend.
But oh! my anguish44 when I drew a stiff white amice over my head, instead of the dear old limp and wrinkled one I was used to; and when I feebly tried to push my hands through the lace meshes45 of an alb, that would stand with stiffness and pride, if I placed it on the floor. I would gladly have called for my old garment; but I knew that I too had to undergo the process of the new reformation; and, with much agony, I desisted. But I drew the line at a biretta which cut my temples with its angles, and I called out:—
"Mrs. Darcy."
A young woman, with her hair all tidied up, and with a white apron46, laced at the edges, and pinned to her breast, came out from a recess47. She was smiling bashfully, and appeared as if she would like to run away and hide somewhere.
"Mrs. Darcy," I called again.
The young woman smiled more deeply, and said with a kind of smirk:—
"Here I am, your reverence!"
It is fortunate for me that I have acquired, after long practice, the virtue48 of silence; for when I recognized the voice of my old friend, I was thunderstruck. I'm sure I would have said something very emphatic49, but my habits restrained me. But I regret to say it was all a source of distraction50 to me in the celebration of the Divine Mysteries, and during the day. What had occurred? I was dying to know; but it would not be consistent with the dignity of my position to ask. To this day, I congratulate myself on my reticence51; for, who could help asking how? when face to face with a miracle. It was some days before I discovered the secret of the magical transformation52.
It would appear, then, that the late lamented53 Jem Darcy, when he departed to his reward, left his poor widow two charges in the shape of children. What do I say? Charges? No. She would scornfully repudiate54 the word. For was not Patsey, the baby of eighteen months, "the apple of her eye," and Jemmy, the little hunchback of six summers, "the core of her heart"? For them she labored55 and toiled56, and "moiled," as she used to say; and worked herself into oil to get them bread, and a pink ribbon for the baby's shoulder knot, and a navy cap, with "Hero" in gold letters for Jemmy. And across her troubled life, full of cares and apprehensions57, poor soul! was there any gleam of sunshine, except that which was reflected in the iris58 of her baby's eyes; or that which dappled the mud floor of her cabin, when Jemmy lay there and played hide and seek with the gossamer59 threads that shone through the chink in the half-door! Ah me! it is easy to lecture the poor, and complain of their horrid60 ways; but the love such as no man hath gilds61 and enamels62 most of the crooked63 and grimy things that disfigure their poor lives in the eyes of the fastidious; and perhaps makes the angels of Him, before whose Face the stars are not spotless, turn from the cold perfection of the mansion64 and the castle to gaze lovingly on the squalid lowliness of the hamlet and the cabin. Well. On the morning that Mrs. Darcy gave me formal notice of her relinquishment65 of the solemn office she held, she bent her steps homeward with a heavy heart. She had done her duty, like all the other great people who have done disagreeable things; but it brought no consolation66. And she had flung behind her her little cabin, and all the sweet associations connected therewith, and the pomp and pride of power, when she officiated at the public offices of the Church, and every one knew her to be indispensable. For who could tell the name of a defaulter at the station, but Mrs. Darcy? And who arranged the screaming baby in the clumsy arms of a young godmother, but Mrs. Darcy? And who could lay out a corpse67 like Mrs. Darcy? And who but Mrs. Darcy found the ring when the confused and blushing bridegroom fumbled68 in every pocket at the altar, and the priest looked angry, and the bride ashamed?
And then her pride in the Church! How wonderful were her designs in holly69 and ivy70 at Christmas! What fantasies she wove out of a rather limited imagination! What art fancies, that would shame William Morris, poet and socialist71, did she conceive and execute in the month of May for the Lady Altar! Didn't Miss Campion say that she was a genius, but undeveloped? Didn't Miss Campion's friend from Dublin declare that there was nothing like it in Gardiner Street? And when her time would be spent, and she was old and rheumatized, would not little Jemmy, the hunchback, who was a born pre-Raphaelite, take her place, and have a home, for he could not face the rough world? Ah me! and it was all gone; cast behind her through a righteous feeling of pride and duty. She moved through the village with a heavy heart; and her check apron went to her eyes.
She had an amiable72 habit of never entering her cabin without playing "Peek-a-boo!" through the window with the baby. For this purpose, the cradle was always drawn73 so that the baby faced the window; and when it saw the round face, which it knew so well, peeping over the speck blossoms of the mignonette, well—there were developments. On this particular morning, Mrs. Darcy was in no humor for playacting; but the force of habit is strong, and she peered through the little window with reddened eyes. And these eyes, as she afterwards described it, "sprod in her head" at what she saw. For, on the floor, in his favorite attitude, his head propped74 between his hands, was the hunchback, Jemmy, studying with all the intense appreciation75 of an Edison, how to construct an airy castle out of certain painted wood-blocks, which strewed76 the floor; and there, his back turned towards the window, was her arch-enemy, Father Letheby, his right hand raised aloft and dangling77 an india-rubber baby; whilst Patsey, his eyes dilated78 with excitement, made frantic79 attempts to seize the prize, and crowed and chuckled80 in the exuberance81 of his delight. Mrs. Darcy drew back hastily, then peeped again. No doubt of it. It was no phantasm of the imagination. She looked again. Then whispered something softly to herself, and, with a great lump in her throat, sped swiftly through the village and up to the "Great House." The result of her interview with Miss Campion we have seen. Father Letheby has scored again. There were heavy bets of fifteen to one in half-gallons of porter, laid by desperate gamblers, that Father Letheby would make Mrs. Darcy wash her face. It was supposed to be a wild plunge82 in a hopeless speculation83. I am told now, that the betting has gone up at the forge, and is now fifty to one that, before a month, she'll have a lace cap and "sthramers" like the maids at the "Great House."
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1
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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chapel
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| n.小教堂，殡仪馆 | |
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bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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deplore
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| vt.哀叹，对...深感遗憾 | |
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7
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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chalice
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| n.圣餐杯；金杯毒酒 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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potentates
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| n.君主，统治者( potentate的名词复数 )；有权势的人 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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dual
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| adj.双的；二重的，二元的 | |
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inventory
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| n.详细目录，存货清单 | |
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zeal
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| n.热心，热情，热忱 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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parricide
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| n.杀父母；杀亲罪 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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impute
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| v.归咎于 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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cinders
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| n.煤渣( cinder的名词复数 )；炭渣；煤渣路；煤渣跑道 | |
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sweepings
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| n.笼统的( sweeping的名词复数 )；（在投票等中的）大胜；影响广泛的；包罗万象的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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mangle
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| vt.乱砍，撕裂，破坏，毁损，损坏，轧布 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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indictment
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| n.起诉；诉状 | |
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slovenliness
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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40
vacancy
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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41
alpine
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| adj.高山的；n.高山植物 | |
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acolytes
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| n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 )；随从；新手；（天主教）侍祭 | |
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43
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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44
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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45
meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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46
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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48
virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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49
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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50
distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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51
reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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52
transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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53
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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55
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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56
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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57
apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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58
iris
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| n.虹膜，彩虹 | |
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gossamer
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| n.薄纱，游丝 | |
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60
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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61
gilds
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| 把…镀金( gild的第三人称单数 )； 给…上金色； 作多余的修饰（反而破坏原已完美的东西）； 画蛇添足 | |
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62
enamels
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| 搪瓷( enamel的名词复数 )； 珐琅； 釉药； 瓷漆 | |
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63
crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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64
mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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65
relinquishment
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| n.放弃；撤回；停止 | |
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66
consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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67
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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68
fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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69
holly
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| n.[植]冬青属灌木 | |
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70
ivy
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| n.常青藤，常春藤 | |
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71
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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72
amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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73
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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74
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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75
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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76
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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77
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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78
dilated
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| adj.加宽的，扩大的v.（使某物）扩大，膨胀，张大( dilate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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79
frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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80
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
exuberance
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| n.丰富；繁荣 | |
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82
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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83
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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