The Real Charlotte - Edith Somerville [111]
She had suddenly determined to herself that she would walk to Bruff and see her landlord, and this new idea took such possession of her that she did not realise at first the magnitude of the attempt. But by the time she had reached the gate of Tally Ho the physical power that her impulse gave her began to be conscious of its own limits. The flashes were darting like lightning before her eyes, and the nausea that was her constant companion robbed her of her energy. After a moment of hesitation she decided that she would go in and see her kinswoman, Norry the Boat, and get a glass of water from her before going further. It wounded her pride somewhat to go round to the kitchen—she, whose grandfather had been on nearly the same social level as Miss Mullen’s; but Charlotte was the last person she wished to meet just then. Norry opened the kitchen door, beginning, as she did so, her usual snarling maledictions on the supposed beggar, which, however, were lost in a loud invocation of her patron saint as she recognised her first cousin, Miss Duffy.
“And is it to leg it in from Gurthnamuckla ye done?” said Norry, when the first greetings had been exchanged, and Julia was seated in the kitchen, “and you looking as white as the dhrivelling snow this minnit.”
“I did,” said Julia feebly, “and I’d be thankful to you for a drink of water. The day’s very close.”
“Faith ye’ll get no wather in this house,” returned Norry in grim hospitality; “I’ll give ye a sup of milk, or would it be too much delay on ye to wait till I bile the kittle for a cup o’ tay? Bad cess to Bid Sal! There isn’t as much hot wather in the house this minute as’d write yer name!”
“I’m obliged to ye, Norry,” said Julia stiffy, her sick pride evolving a supposition that she could be in want of food; “but I’m only after my breakfast myself. Indeed,” she added, assuming from old habit her usual attitude of medical adviser, “you’d be the better yourself for taking less tea.”
“Is it me?” replied Norry indignantly. “I take me cup o’ tay morning and evening, and if ‘twas throwing after me I wouldn’t take more.”
“Give me the cold wather, anyway,” said Julia wearily; “I must go on out of this. It’s to Bruff I’m going.”
“In the name o’ God what’s taking ye into Bruff, you that should be in yer bed, in place of sthreelin’ through the counthry this way?”
“I got a letter from Lambert to-day,” said Julia, putting her hand to her aching head, as if to collect herself, “and I want to speak to Sir Benjamin about it.”
“Ah, God help yer foolish head!” said Norry impatiently; “sure ye might as well be talking to the bird above there,” pointing to the cockatoo, who was looking down at them with ghostly solemnity. “The owld fellow’s light in his head this long while.”
“Then I’ll see some of the family,” said Julia; “they remember my fawther well, and the promise I had about the farm, and they’ll not see me wronged.”
“Throth, then, that’s thrue,” said Norry, with an unwonted burst of admiration; “they was always and ever a fine family, and thim that they takes in their hands has the luck o’ God! But what did Lambert say t’ye?” with a keen glance at her visitor from under her heavy eyebrows.
Julia hesitated for a moment.
“Norry Kelly,” she said, her voice shaking a little; “if it wasn’t that you’re me own mother’s sister’s child, I would not reveal to you the disgrace that man is trying to put upon me. I got a letter from him this morning saying he’d process me if I didn’t pay him at once the half of what’s due. And Joyce that has the grazing is bankrupt, and owes me what I’ll never get from him.”
“Blast his sowl!” interjected Norry, who was peeling onions with furious speed.
“I know there’s many would be thankful to take the