"Ay, if one had leave from the devil to work them; but it was only old Luttrell ever got that, and he paid for it."
"Tell me the story, child; I never heard it."
The girl here seated herself on a knoll directly in front of them, and, with a demure air, and some of that a.s.sumed importance she had possibly seen adopted by story-tellers, she began, in a tone and with a fluency that showed she was repeating an oft-told tale:
"There was one of the Luttrells once that was very rich, and a great man every way, but he spent all his money trying to be greater than the King, for whatever the King did Luttrell would do twice as grand, and for one great feast the King would give, Luttrell would give two, and he came at last to be ruined entirely; and of all his fine houses and lands, nothing was left to him but a little cabin on Strathmore, where his herd used to live. And there he went and lived as poor as a labourin" man; indeed, except that he"d maybe catch a few fish or shoot something, he had nothing but potatoes all the year round. Well, one day, as he was wanderin" about very low and sorrowful, he came to a great cave on the hill-side, with a little well of clear water inside it; and he sat down for sake of the shelter, and began to think over old times, when he had houses, and horses, and fine clothes, and jewels.
"Who"d ever have thought," says he, "that it would come to this with me; that I"d be sittin" upon a rock, with nothing to drink but water?" And he took some up in the hollow of his hand and tasted it; but when he finished, he saw there was some fine little grains, like dust, in his hand, and they were bright yellow besides, because they were gold.
""If I had plenty of you, I"d be happy yet," says he, looking at the grains.
""And what"s easier in life, Mr. Luttrell?" says a voice; and he starts and turns round, and there, in a cleft of the rock, was sittin" a little dark man, with the brightest eyes that ever was seen, smoking a pipe.
"What"s easier in life," says he, "Mr. Luttrell?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: 112]
""How do you know my name?" says he.
""Why wouldn"t I? says the other. "Sure it isn"t because one is a little down in the world that he wouldn"t have the right to his own name? I have had some troubles myself," says he, "but I don"t forget my name, for all that."
""And what may it be, if it"s pleasin" to you?" says Luttrell.
""Maybe I"ll tell it to you," says he, "when we"re better acquainted."
""Maybe I could guess it now," says Luttrell.
""Come over and whisper it, then," says he, "and I"ll tell you if you"re right." And Luttrell did and the other called out, "You guessed well; that"s just it!" ""Well," says Luttrell, "there"s many a change come over me, but the strangest of all is to think that here I am, sittin"
up and talking to the----" The other held up his hand to warn him not to say it, and he went on: "And I"m no more afeard of him than if he was an old friend."
""And why would you, Mr. Luttrell?--and why wouldn"t you think him an old friend? Can you remember one pleasant day in all your life that I wasn"t with you some part of it?""
"Give up that drawing, Vyner, and listen to this," said Grenfell. "I"ll make her begin it again for you."
"I am listening. I"ve heard every word of it," said Vyner. "Go on, dear."
""I know what you mean well enough," says Luttrell. "I know the sort of bargain you make, but what would be the good of all my riches to me when I"d lose my soule?"
""Isn"t it much trouble you take about your soule, Mr. Luttrell?" says he. "Doesn"t it keep you awake at night, thinking how you"re to save it?
Ain"t you always correctin" and chastisin" yourself for the good of your soule, not lettin" yourself drink this or eat that, and warnin" you, besides, about many a thing I won"t speak of, eh? Tell me that."
""There"s something in what you say, no doubt of it," says Luttrell; "but, after all," says he, with a wink, "I"m not going to give it up as a bad job, for all that."
""And who asks you?" says the other. "Do you think that a soule more or less signifies to me? It don"t: I"ve lashins and lavins of them."
""Maybe you have," says Luttrell.
""Have you any doubt of it, Mr. Luttrell?" says he. "Will you just mention the name of any one of your friends or family that I can"t give you some particulars of?"
""I"d rather you"d not talk that way," says Luttrell; "it makes me feel unpleasant."
""I"m sure," says the other, "n.o.body ever said I wasn"t polite, or that I ever talked of what was not pleasin" to the company."
""Well," says Luttrell, "supposin" that I wanted to be rich, and supposin" that I wouldn"t agree to anything that would injure my soule, and supposin" that there was, maybe, something that you"d like me to do, and that wouldn"t hurt me for doin" it, what would that be?"
""If you always was as cute about a bargain, Mr. Luttrell," says the other, "you"d not be the poor man you are to-day."
""That"s true, perhaps," says he; "but, you see, the fellows I made them with wasn"t as cute as the----"
""Don"t," says the other, holding up his hand to stop him; "it"s never polite. I told you I didn"t want your soul, for I"m never impatient about anything; all I want is to give you a good lesson--something that your family will be long the better of--and you want it much, for you have, all of you, one great sin." ""We"re fond of drink?" says Luttrell.
""No," says he; "I don"t mean that." ""It"s gamblin"?" ""Nor that."
""It"s a likin" for the ladies?" says Luttrell, slyly. ""I"ve nothing to say against that, for they"re always well disposed to me," says he.
""If it"s eatin", or spendin" money, or goin" in debt, or cursin" or swearin", or being fond of fightin"----""
""It is not," says he; "them is all natural. It"s your pride," says he--"your upsettin" family pride, that won"t let you do this, or say that. There"s what"s destroyin" you."
""It"s pretty well out of me now," says Luttrell, with a sigh. ""It is not," says the other. "If you had a good dinner of beef, and a tumbler of strong punch in you, you"d be as impudent this minute as ever you were."
""Maybe you"re right," says Luttrell.
""I know I am, Mr. Luttrell. You"re not the first of your family I was intimate with. You"re an ould stock, and I know ye well." ""And how are we to be cured?" says Luttrell. ""Easy enough," says he. "When three generations of ye marry peasants, it will take the pride out of your bones, and you"ll behave like other people."
""We couldn"t do it," says Luttrell. ""Try," says the other.
""Impossible!"
""So you"d say about livin" on potatoes, and drinkin" well water."
""That"s true," says Luttrell.
""So you"d say about ragged clothes and no shoes to your feet.""
Luttrell nodded.
""So you"d say about settin" in a cave and talking over family matters to--to a stranger," says he, with a laugh.
""I believe there"s something in it," said Luttrell; "but sure some of us might like to turn bachelors."
""Let them, and welcome," says he. "I don"t want them to do it one after the other. I"m in no hurry. Take a hundred years--take two, if you like, for it."
""Done," says Lnttrell. "When a man shows a fair spirit, I"ll always meet him in the same. Give me your hand; it"s a bargain."
""I hurt my thumb," says he; "but take my tail, "twill do all the same."
And though Mr. Luttrell didn"t like it, he shook it stoutly, and only let it go when it began to burn his fingers. And from that day he was rich, even till he died; but after his death n.o.body ever knew where to find the gold, nor ever will till the devil tells them."
"And did his family keep the bargain; did they marry the peasants?"
asked Grenfell.
"Two of them. One before, John Lnttrell of Arran; and another must do it, and soon too, for they say the two hundred years is near out now."
"And is it said that the remedy succeeded?" asked Vyner; "are the Luttrells cured of their family pride?"