The Ghost Girl Read online

  CHAPTER V

  Next morning came with a burst of sunshine and a windy, cloudless sky.Pinckney, dressing with his window open, could see the park with the rookswheeling and cawing over the trees, whilst the warm wind brought into theroom all sorts of winter scents on the very breath of summer.

  This rainy land where the snow rarely comes has all sorts of surprises ofclimate and character. Nothing is truly logical in Ireland, not evenwinter. That is what makes the place so delightful to some minds and soperplexing to others.

  Hennessey was staying for a day or two to go over accounts and explain theworking of the estate to Pinckney.

  He was in the hall when the latter came down, and gave him good morning.

  "Where's your mistress?" said Hennessey to old Byrne, as they took theirseats at the breakfast table.

  "Faith, she's been out since six," said Byrne. "She came down threatenin'to skin Rafferty alive for layin' fox thraps in the woods, then she had abite of bread and butter and a cup of tea Norah made for her, and off shewent with Rafferty to hunt out the thraps and take them up. It's littleshe cares for breakfast."

  "I was the same way myself when I was her age," said Hennessey toPinckney. "Up at four in the morning and out fishing in Dublin Bay--it'swell to be young."

  "Look here," said the young man, as Byrne left the room, "she was out tilleleven last night in the woods; she knocked me up as I was sitting in thelibrary and I let her in. _I_ don't see anything wrong in the business,but all the same, it's not a particularly safe proceeding and I suppose amother or father would have jawed her--I couldn't. I suppose I showed bymy manner that I didn't approve of her being out so late, for she seemedin a huff as she went up to bed. My position is a bit difficult, but I'mhanged if I'm going to do the heavy father or careful mother business. Ifshe was only a boy, I could talk to her like a Dutch uncle, but I don'tknow anything about girls. I wish--"

  Pinckney's wish remained forever unexpressed, for at the moment the dooropened and in came Phyl.

  Her face was glowing with the morning air and she seemed to have forgottenthe business of the night before as she greeted Pinckney and the lawyerand took her place at the table.

  "Phyl," said the lawyer, half jocularly, "here's Mr. Pinckney beencomplaining that you were wandering about all night in the woods, knockinghim up to let you in at two o'clock in the morning."

  Phyl, who was helping herself to bacon, looked up at Pinckney.

  "Oh, you cad," said her eyes. Then she spoke:

  "I came in at eleven. If I had known, I would have called up Byrne or oneof the servants to let me in."

  Pinckney could have slain Hennessey.

  "Good gracious," he said. "_I_ wasn't complaining. I only just mentionedthe fact."

  "The fact that I was out till two," said Phyl, with another upward glanceof scorn.

  "I never said any such thing. I said eleven."

  "It was my loose way of speaking; but, sure, what's the good of gettingout of temper?" put in Hennessey. "Mr. Pinckney wasn't meaning anything,but you see, Phyl, it's just this way, your father has made him yourguardian."

  "My _what!_" cried the girl.

  "_Oh_, Lord!" said Pinckney, in despair at the blundering way of theother. Then finding himself again and the saving vein of humour, withoutwhich man is just a leaden figure:

  "Yes, that's it. I'm your guardian. You must on no account go out withoutmy permission, or cough or sneeze without a written permit--Oh, Phyl,don't be thinking nonsense of that sort. I _am_ your guardian, it seems,and by your father's special request, but you are absolutely free to do asyou like."

  "A nice sort of guardian," put in Hennessey with a grin.

  "I am only, really, guardian of your money and your interests," went onthe other, "and your welfare. When you came in last night late, I was abit taken aback and I thought--as a matter of fact, I thought it might bedangerous being out alone in this wild part of the country so late atnight, but I did not want to interfere; you can understand, can't you?What I want you to get out of your mind is, that I am that odious thing, ameddling person. I'm not."

  Phyl was very white. She had risen from the table and was at the window.

  Here was her dream come true of the bearded American who had suddenlyappeared to claim her and Kilgobbin and the servants and everything.

  Pinckney had not a beard, but he was an American and he had come to claimeverything. The word guardian carried such a force and weight and was sofilled with fantastic possibilities to the mind of Phyl, that she scarcelyheard his soft words and excuses.

  Phyl had the Irish trick of running away with ideas and embroidering themost palpable truths with fancies. It was an inheritance from her father,and she stood by the window now unable to speak, with the word "Guardian"ringing in her ears and the idea pressing on her mind like an incubus.

  Hennessey had risen up. He was the first to break silence.

  "There's no use in meeting troubles half way," said he vaguely. "You andPhyl will get along all right when you know each other better. Come out,the two of you, and we'll go round the grounds and you will be able to seefor yourself the state of the house and what repairs are wanting."

  "One moment," said Pinckney. "I want to tell Phyl something--I'm going tocall you Phyl because I'm your guardian--d'you mind?"

  "No," said Phyl, "you can call me anything you like, I suppose."

  "I'm not going to call you anything I like--just Phyl-- Well, then, I wantto tell you what we have to do. It's not my wishes I have to carry out butyour father's. He wanted to let this house."

  "Let Kilgobbin!"

  "Yes, that is what he said. He wanted to let it to a good tenant who wouldlook after it till you are of age. I think he was right. You see, youcould not live here all alone, and if the place was shut up it woulddeteriorate."

  "It would go to wrack and ruin," said Hennessey.

  "And the servants?" said Phyl.

  "We will look after them," said Pinckney, "the new tenant might take themon; if not, we'll give them time to get new places."

  "Byrne's been here before I was born," said the girl, with dry lips, "sohas Mrs. Driscoll. They are part of the place; it would ruin their livesto send them away."

  "Well," said Pinckney, "I don't want to be the ogre to ruin their lives;you can do anything you like about them. If the new tenant didn't takethem, you might pension them. I want you to be perfectly happy in yourmind and I want you to feel that though I am, so to speak, the guardian ofyour money, still, that money is yours."

  She was beginning to understand now that not only was he striving tosoothe her feelings and propitiate her, but that he was very much inearnest in this business, and crowding through her mind came a great waveof revulsion against herself.

  Phyl's nature was such that whilst always ready to fly into wrath andeasily moved to bitter resentment, one touch of kindness, one soft word,had the power to disarm her.

  One soft word from an antagonist had the power to wound her far more thana dozen words of bitterness.

  Filled now with absolutely superfluous self-reproach, she stood for amoment unable to speak. Then she said, raising her eyes to his:

  "I am sure you mean to do what is for the best.--It was stupid of me--"

  "Not a bit," said the other, cheerfully. "I want to do the things thatwill make you happy--that's all. I'm a business man and I know the valueof money. Money is just worth the amount of happiness it brings."

  "Faith, that's true," said Hennessey, who had taken his seat again and wasin the act of lighting a cigar.

  "When I was a boy," went on the other. "I was always kept hard up by myfather. It was like pulling gum teeth to get the price of a fishing rodout of him. When I think of all the fun I might have bought with a fewdollars, it makes me wild. You can't buy fun when you get old; you may buyan opera house or a yacht, but you can't buy the real stuff that makeslife worth living."

  Phyl glanced out of the window at the park, then as though she had foundsome inspiration
there, she turned to Pinckney.

  "If you don't mind about the money, then why don't you let me live hereinstead of letting the place? I can live here by myself and I would behappy here. I won't be happy if I leave it."

  "Well," said Pinckney, "there's your father's wish, first of all."

  "I'm sure if he knew how I felt, he wouldn't mind," said Phyl mournfully,turning her gaze again to the park.

  "On top of that," went on Pinckney, "there's--your age. Phyl, it wouldn'tever do; it's not I that am saying it, it's custom, the world, society."

  Phyl, like the hooked salmon that has taken the gaudy fly, felt a checkand recognised that a Power had her in hand, recognised in the light-goingand fair-speaking Pinckney something of adamant, a will not to be brokenor bent.

  She felt for a moment a revolt against herself for having fallen to thelure and allowed herself to come to friendly terms with him. Then thisfeeling faded a bit. The very young are very weak in the face ofconstituted authority--besides, there was always at the back of Pinckneyher father's wish.

  "And then again, on top of that," he went on, "there's the question ofyour coming to live with us; your father wished it."

  "In America!" cried Phyl. "Do you mean I am to live in America?"

  "Well, we live there; why not? It's not a bad place to live in--and whatelse are you to do?"

  She could not answer him. This time she saw that the bogey man had got herand no mistake. America to her seemed as far as the moon and far lessfamiliar. If Pinckney had declared that it was necessary for her to die,she would have been a great deal more frightened, but the prospect wouldnot have seemed much more desolate and forbidding and final.

  He saw at once the trouble in her mind and guessed the cause. He had arare intuition for reading minds, and it seemed to him he could readPhyl's as easily as though the outside of her head were clear glass--hehad cause to modify this cocksure opinion later on.

  "Don't worry," he said. "If you don't like America when you see it, youcan come back to Ireland. I daresay we can arrange something; anyhow,don't let us meet troubles half way."

  "When am I to go?" said Phyl.

  "Sure, Phyl, you can stay as long as you like with us," said Mr.Hennessey. "The doors of 10, Merrion Square, are always open to you, andnever will they be shut on you except behind your back."

  Pinckney laughed; and a servant coming in to clear the breakfast things,Hennessey led the way from the room to show Pinckney the premises.