"What are you doing here?" she said.
Terence only stared at her, for an instant, more surprised than she was herself. Then he stammered: "What--what am I--"
"What are you here for?" said Kathleen. "Why do you follow me like this? I won"t let you. Go away."
Terence was a little more himself now. "Which eye do you see me with?"
he cried.
"With both eyes, of course," said Kathleen.
"This for both of them, then!" Terence cried, and he struck at Kathleen"s eyes with his fist.
She raised her hand quickly to ward off the blow, and Terence"s hand touched the iron crucifix. The blow did not reach her eyes. Terence started back from her and fell upon the floor. Only for an instant Kathleen saw his face. His eyes blazed, but the rest of it was as if he had been dead. Somehow he found his way out of the room, Kathleen could scarcely see how. He did not rise, but he seemed to run like a beast running for its life. Kathleen followed him out of the room and to the stairs. She saw him just leaving the house by the door. And yet she could not see how he went, for the door was shut.
Kathleen ran downstairs to find her grandmother and to tell her what had happened. Mrs. O"Brien listened and then she said: "Kathleen, you have been thinking too much about Terence and you have got too nervous. n.o.body has come into the house since you left me, only a few minutes ago."
"But I saw him, grandmother," Kathleen answered, "and it was all just as I told you. How could I see him if he did not come?"
Mrs. O"Brien sat and thought for a few minutes. "What did you do before you saw Terence?" she asked.
Kathleen thought for a minute, too, for she was so much excited that she could scarcely remember. "I had been crying," she said, "as you told me, and I put some of the ointment in the little gold box on my eyes to see if it would make them look better."
"It was that," said Mrs. O"Brien. "I"ve heard the like of it before.
When you have touched your eyes with that ointment you can always see the Good People, whether they want you to or not. That was why he tried to strike your eyes, and if he had struck them he would have put them out. You will always see the Good People now wherever you meet them. They don"t like to be seen except when they choose, and so they may try to do you harm, and you must be careful. Keep the little cross always by you.
"And now come with me," the old woman went on. "I have had enough of this, and I will have no more."
"Come with you where, grandmother?" Kathleen asked.
"To the Sullivans," the old woman answered.
It was only a little while after they had gone when the Hill Terence came to the door. "Mrs. O"Brien and Miss Kathleen have gone to the Sullivans"," the servant told him.
"Will they be back soon?" he asked.
"I don"t think so," the servant said; "it was only a few minutes ago that they went away."
"I will go to the Sullivans" and find them," Terence said.
Now that, you know, was about the most remarkable thing that Terence could say. He had tried to go to the Sullivans" so many times and had found so many times that his feet simply would not take him there, that he had given up trying long ago. But now he resolved that he would go, and, more than that, he had a feeling such as he had never had before that he must go.
He knew the street and the number, though he had never been there. He started off as if there could not be the slightest doubt of his going wherever he wished to go. He walked quickly through the Park and past the little pool as if he had never seen the place. He came out of the Park at the other side and went on till he came to the corner which he could never turn before. He turned it as if it had been any other corner. It did not even surprise him to find that he could. He thought that he was doing all this just because he was so determined to go just where he chose, but he had never felt anything like the force or the determination or whatever it was which was drawing him straight on.
He reached the house and went up the steps. The door was open, and, instead of ringing, he went straight in. But what he did next was the strangest of all. He could not have told you why he did it any more than he could have told you why he did anything else. Instead of knocking at the door or going into any room that he pa.s.sed, he went downstairs to the door of the kitchen. There, just for one instant, he stopped--the first instant that he had stopped since he left the O"Briens" house. Then, still without knocking, he pushed the door open and went in.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ]
XI
THE OLD KING COMES BACK
When Mrs. O"Brien and Kathleen left home they walked through the Park and to the Sullivans". Peter was away. Terence half sat and half lay on the floor in a corner. He held his right hand behind him and covered his face with his left arm. His whole body shook as if he were riding in a cart over a rough road. Ellen sat close to him, trying to soothe him and trying to get him to tell her what was the matter.
When Mrs. O"Brien and Kathleen came in Terence seemed to try to make himself smaller, but he did nothing else. "Ellen," said Mrs. O"Brien, "come outside the room here for a moment; I have something to tell you."
"Look at Terence there," Ellen answered; "how can I leave him when he"s that way?"
"Leave him," said Mrs. O"Brien, "and come out here with me."
She took Ellen by the hand and led her, and Ellen followed. There was something in Mrs. O"Brien"s look now that told her she would have to come. "Now look at me," said Mrs. O"Brien, when they were out of the room; "do I look as if I would mean every word I said, or do I not?"
Ellen did not answer, and Mrs. O"Brien said: "Ellen, when it was only your own affair I told you what you ought to do, but I let you take your own way. But now it is Kathleen"s affair and John"s and mine, and it is time that I had my way. Look at me, Ellen, and tell me, do I look as if I meant to have it?"
Again Ellen looked in the old woman"s face and said nothing for an instant. Then she looked down again in a confused way, and said: "I must go back to Terence."
"Ellen," said the old woman, "go down to the kitchen. We"ll follow you, and Terence can come, too, if he likes, and I think he will."
Without a word Ellen went down the stairs. Mrs. O"Brien called to Terence: "We are going to the kitchen; you can come if you like."
Mrs. O"Brien and Kathleen followed Ellen, and Terence followed them.
He slipped down the stairs like a bundle of rags. He stole into the kitchen after the others and half sat and half lay in the corner, as he had done in the room above, only he did not cover his face with his arm, but kept his eyes on Mrs. O"Brien to see what she was going to do.
"Now, Ellen," Mrs. O"Brien whispered, "put your largest pot on the fire, put water in it, and let it boil."
Ellen looked at the old woman as if she were begging her not to do this. The old woman looked back at her, and then she did it. She put the pot on the fire and the water in the pot. "Now bring all the eggs you have in the house," Mrs. O"Brien said.
Ellen was past asking questions now, and she brought the eggs. It always takes a long time for water to boil, and it seemed to all of them as if it took hours for this water to boil. While they were waiting not one of them spoke and they scarcely moved. Terence was all but holding his breath, and his eyes, red and staring, were now upon Mrs. O"Brien and now upon Ellen, and never at rest. Kathleen looked at Terence and clutched the little crucifix in her hand. But she need not have been afraid of Terence; he knew the crucifix as well as he cared to know it.
After a long time the water boiled. Mrs. O"Brien waited till it was boiling as hard as ever it could, and then she whispered to Ellen: "Break the eggs now; keep the sh.e.l.ls and throw away the rest."
Poor Ellen could not guess what it all meant, but she broke the eggs, laid the sh.e.l.ls carefully aside, and threw away the rest.
"Now," said Mrs. O"Brien, "put the sh.e.l.ls in the pot."
Ellen did as she was told.
"What are you doing, mother?" Terence called from his corner.
"Tell him you are brewing," Mrs. O"Brien whispered.
"I"m brewing, Terence," said Ellen, scarcely loud enough to be heard.