University of Virginia Library

18. CHAPTER XVIII.
WHICH WAY SUSPICION LEADS.

THE Minister had had no time for Mrs. Barrè, or
any thing but the search. That Saturday evening
he and the constable sate together in consultation
in the former's study, putting together their information
and conjectures. Gilpin's suspicions had been aroused as
soon as his eye fell on the Prayer-book that he had secured
at Mr. Urston's; and he had found, in the middle, a
book-mark bearing a drawing of a lamb, with the legend,
“I am the Good Shepherd,” and the letters “L. B.” in
delicate German text. This mark Miss Dare had already
recognized as one which she herself had given to Lucy
Barbury, since her sickness. On the inside of the cover,
however, was the name “Lucy Barbury” still legible,
from having been also written in German text, though
with a less practised hand. The latter had been identified
by the mother as Lucy's own writing.

The present condition of the book, taken in connection
with Mrs. Calloran's conduct in regard to it, made it
probable that it was in her house that it had been given
to the fire.

Moreover she would not answer a plain question
whether she had seen the missing maiden since Friday
morning.

—“But she contrived to tell different stories about the
Prayer-book,” said the Minister; “why shouldn't she,—
if she had occasion,—about seeing Lucy Barbury?”

“Sometimes they won't lie to a straightforward question;
and they'll lie fast enough, of their own tongue:
and then the Priest was there that time, and he wasn't,
the other.”

“You're too severe upon Roman Catholics,” said Mr.
Wellon.

“Not upon her sort o' Roman Catholics,” answered the
constable; “I know 'em, sir,—too well.”

“We seem to have traced her to just about that place,”
said Mr. Wellon, musing;—“so far she seems to have
gone on her own feet,—and alone.”

—“And there they picked her up, when she fell down,”
said the constable, “and then those nuns carried her off.”

“What nuns?”

“That Cap'n Nolesworth saw; and this Yankee,—Mr.
Banks, they call un, sir,—he was prying about there, last
night, just when these nuns were going away from the
house. When he was telling his story he said they carried
something; and so I followed un up. He couldn't
tell what it was, for the night was dark; but there were
two or three women, and carrying something among 'em
down the Worrell, there. Being a stranger, he didn't
want to be brought in, he said; 'twould knock up his
business.”

“It's a pity he hadn't helped carry her down, while he
was about it!” said the Parson; “and then we should
have had some better evidence.”

“Then there's Cap'n Nolesworth knows what he's
about; and he come right across their punt, and had a
good look at it, with his lantern. They pulled for dear

life: but he says he's sure he saw somebody they were
holding up.—That's how her cap got down there,” concluded
the constable.

The Minister was struck with Gilpin's statement, which
was confirmed, slightly, by the few circumstances and
facts of the case within their knowledge.

“But,” said he, “there's no proof, and who do you
suppose is at the bottom of it?”

“I believe Granny Calloran is, sir; and that priest,
Father Nicholas.” Mr. Wellon smiled.—“And then
that new priest just coming here!” exclaimed the constable.

“It's a `popish plot,' with a vengeance!” said the
Minister; “with priests and nuns and all. But what
should she do it for? and what should the priests and
nuns be concerned in it for?”

“If Granny Calloran got a fair chance at one of Mrs.
Barbury's daughters,—ay, and one that young Urston
was leaving their priesthood for,—she'd do it fast enough,
sir, I'll go bail. She'd steal 'em to make Romans of 'em;
and she'd steal her to get her out of his way; and the
priests and nuns 'd be ready enough to lend a hand at
that work, and no mistake. 'Twas only t'other day there
was that case at home, in Lancashire.”

“Ay, but Lucy can't have conspired with them,” said
the Minister, upon whom Gilpin's convictions made some
impression;—“if there's any thing sure on earth!”

“I can't say for that, sir,” said Gilpin; but then, correcting
himself, did justice to Lucy, without injustice to
his argument. “Oh no!” said he, “if there's truth on
earth, she's got it; but she's been crazy, by spurts, ever
since she was sick, you know, sir.”

“To be sure,” answered the Parson; “but she hasn't

run away every day; and I don't suppose these nuns
have been over, every day; and they happened, some
how, to be just in time.”

“So they might, sir, they might; just as it happened
there was nobody with Lucy, and nobody in the way, on
the whole path. The nuns were there, any way, sir; and
Lucy was down there,—Jesse saw her on the road;—and
there's her Prayer-book,—come out o' the house; and the
nuns carried something down; and you found her cap
down below; and there was the one Cap'n Nolesworth
saw in the punt,” answered the constable, summing up,
very effectively; “and Granny Calloran afraid to answer,
till the priest told her how; and doing her worst not to
let me have that book; and he helping her.”

“How do you mean `telling her how to answer?'”

“I asks her, `Have you seen Mr. Barbury's daughter,
since yesterday morning?' three times; and she puts me
off with Irish palaver; and then he says, `you needn't
keep 'em waiting, Mrs. Calloran; you can tell whether
you know where she is;' and so she says, fast enough,
`No; I don't know, any more than I knows where the
Injins is;' or `the wild Injins.'”

“Do you think young Urston is concerned?”

“I don't think he is, sir; he doesn't seem like it. He
didn't seem to be one of 'em t'other day. He's very much
cut up, and he's been out all night; but that isn't all.
When I saw things looking that way, I thought I'd make
one of 'em, if I could, while that priest was there; and
I got one ear in among 'em, far enough.”

“The priest talked very serious to the young man, and
said `he was sorry for his disappointment; it seemed a
visitation of God,' he said. `Now he'd find he couldn't
set his heart on earthly things; and the only way was to

fly to God while the wound was fresh; to think of his
promises; and to think what he'd cast away.' He said
`others had been through it;' (and it seemed as if he'd
cry, while he was about it;) `but,' he said, `they'd found
the balm,' or `the myrrh'; and then he came to business,
and told un `to-morrow was the very day for un to
go to St. John's; and he'd go along with un, and there
was a glorious path for un.' Mrs. Calloran only vexed
un, with telling him how Protestants despised un.”

“You listened to some purpose,” said the Parson.

“Well, sir, I'd good reason.”

“And how did he take it all?”

“He told the priest `he was sorry to disappoint un;
but his mind was made up, and he'd given over being a
priest;' and then there was a stir among 'em, and I come
away, and in two or three minutes the priest was riding
away home.”

The Minister sate a little while in thought, and then
said:—

“If they carried her away, it's a very strange thing!
There seems certainly a clue as fine as a spider's web,
leading to that suspicion.”

“It looks as plain as a ship's wake to me, sir,” said
Gilpin, his eye shining like the star that guides sailors on
a trackless sea.

“But what can we make of it, beyond suspicion?”

“If we had a magistrate that”— the constable began,
in a tone of small observance towards the greater official
under or around whom he moved.

“We've got a magistrate,” said the Parson, smiling,
taking the words as if there had not been a “that” at
their end; “and we must get all this before him. Will
you go to Mr. Naughton, and tell him what you've seen

and heard? and I'll make a memorandum of what we've
been over to-night, to serve, if there's occasion.”

“And we'd better not talk, sir, I suppose?”

“Oh! no. Is that Mr. Bangs, the American, to be
had, if he's wanted?” asked Mr. Wellon.

“He's going to set up a shop here, in fall, I believe,
sir. I shouldn't wonder if he'd gone down to Bay Harbor
(whatever he's after):—he asked me if I thought he
could do a little trading with the priests, there.—And
Cap'n Nolesworth's at Bay Harbor, by this time.”

“Well, then, we can't do any more, now; but Christian
men mustn't forget to pray. If any thing turns up,
to-morrow, please let me know it.”

The constable had something more upon his mind, and
presently said, as he rose to go (but he said it with hesitation,
as if it were not of his business):—

“I suppose you heard about this new priest and the
widow-lady, Mrs. Berry, sir? More than one thing goes
on at once, in this world.”

“I don't know,” the Minister answered.

“There's stories going about the harbor, that they've
had meetings, down at some Roman Catholic's,—in Mad
Cove, they say,—and passed some high words; but it's
very likely, only people's talk. They say one of 'em
seems to have some sort of claim upon the other, or
they're relations, or something. Some says it's about
some great fortune; that he's her brother, and wants to
get all away to give to his Church. (They say he looks
like her.) I hears he got into a great passion and was
very abusive, and she just as gentle as a lamb; but I don't
believe that of him, for Skipper George and everybody
gives un a good name for being very civil-spoken, and
kind in his way.”

“I don't believe it, either; but I know that they're
related—probably, nearly. He does look like her: I'd
forgotten.—Now, you'll tell me, to-morrow, if any thing
happens, please. Good-night!”

The day's work was done, and the week's; but there
lay over a heavy burden for the coming time to bear.