Read Treasure of the Celtic Triangle Online
Authors: Michael Phillips
Florilyn did not reply.
“Is that true,” he added, “what he says about you and he trying to find, what did he call it … God’s will?”
“That was the idea,” replied Florilyn noncommittedly.
“About what?”
“Whether He wanted us to get married.”
“What about what
you
want?” asked Colville.
“We’re supposed to want what God wants.”
“Well, I don’t!” laughed Colville. “I want what I want. Life would be no fun if everyone went around trying to think what God wanted them to do.”
Florilyn shrugged.
“You don’t really go along with all that, do you?” he asked.
“I thought I did,” sighed Florilyn.
“Where does your cousin get those ideas anyway?”
“His father’s a minister.”
“I guess I heard something about that. Still, he seems pretty young to be so religious. You don’t really want to marry a fellow who’s going to be a gray-haired old church mouse by the time he’s forty. What if after you were married he decided to become a minister?”
“Actually he was thinking about that very thing.”
“There, you see. I would keep clear of a bloke like that.”
“Not to worry. He’s decided to study law instead.”
“Hmm … a lawyer with religion—an interesting combination. Still, what’s this mission thing all about? Who’s the fellow Moody?”
“Just what he says—an American evangelist.”
“A hellfire preacher?”
“I suppose.”
“And he wants you to join him in helping get people saved. Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Colville. “That’s priceless. Florilyn Westbrooke, evangelist. Ha, ha!”
Colville’s laughter grated on Florilyn and made her uncomfortable. But she said nothing further and quickly changed the subject.
F
IFTY
The Announcement
W
hen Percy had not heard from Florilyn for two weeks, he began to grow concerned. Several more letters followed from Glasgow to Llanfryniog with the same result.
In north Wales, Percy’s letter to her sent Katherine into a fresh round of anxiety. She realized that in all likelihood Percy would not be returning to Westbrooke Manor anytime soon. Everything in her cried out to write him to implore him to come. But how could she? As things stood between Percy and Florilyn, Percy was hardly the one to tell Florilyn to stop seeing Colville unless he planned to marry her himself. She had not even told Edward and Mary about the change in Florilyn. From two or three comments Florilyn had made, she knew that at present Percy’s stock had dropped considerably in her daughter’s estimation. She more than half suspected the cause.
Meanwhile, events moved inexorably toward their inevitable conclusion. Katherine Westbrooke’s house continued to rise on the plateau overlooking Mochras Head. Colville Burrenchobay and Florilyn Westbrooke continued to spend most days together. It was only a matter of time before their engagement would be announced.
Christmas was approaching. Edward and Mary invited Katherine and Florilyn north for the holidays. Florilyn said she was not interested in seeing Percy, or any of them for that matter. Katherine did not want to leave her alone to spend Christmas at Burrenchobay Hall. She silently feared she would come back to discover that her daughter was engaged or, worse, had married Colville hastily in her absence.
Christmas was a strained affair at Westbrooke Manor, certainly nothing like the gay celebration of giving of a year before. Courtenay was gone. Florilyn was moody and anxious to be off to Burrenchobay Hall. Colville called for her shortly after eleven. Christmas dinner at the manor began quietly. Katherine’s immediate family had now dwindled to one—herself. The thanksgiving in her heart, however, though tinged with sadness, was genuine. She had around her a staff that loved her, and Adela and Steven now seemed truly like her own family. She asked Steven to pray.
Florilyn spent the rest of Christmas day with Colville’s family. A great feast was held at the hall in honor of the occasion. As she did frequently these days, Florilyn stayed over in what the whole family now called “Florilyn’s room.”
On the following morning, even before Florilyn had returned to Westbrooke Manor to tell her mother in person, the great Boxing Day news was all over Llanfryniog that on the previous evening at Burrenchobay Hall, the engagement had been announced of Florilyn Westbrooke to Colville Burrenchobay.
P
ART
T
HREE
Treasure of the Celtic Triangle
1874
F
IFTY
-O
NE
News from Ireland
D
. L. Moody had arrived in England in June of 1873. He was unable to generate much interest in his evangelistic method by the local clergy. In his first meeting in York, he spoke to a congregation of eight. Over the following weeks, gradually attendance increased. However, the numbers remained small. The ministers of York continued cool and unsupportive toward the American.
From York, at the invitation of two interested ministers, Moody and his musical partner, Ira Sankey, traveled to Sunderland then to Newcastle. Though criticism continued from the English clergy, in Newcastle five ministers offered their chapels for meetings. Gradually a groundswell of interest began to grow.
But it was not until Moody and Sankey crossed into Scotland that Moody’s evangelistic messages exploded upon the public. Scotland’s centuries-old spiritual vitality immediately responded to Moody’s challenge. From the first meetings held in Edinburgh in November, no building in the city was sufficient to hold the enormous crowds. The watch-night service on the last day of the year continued for five hours. Moody’s farewell address to Edinburgh was held in early January of 1874 on the slopes of Arthur’s Seat. From Edinburgh, Moody traveled to Dundee then to Glasgow where the story was much the same. Hundreds of local volunteers were kept busy with the thousands who responded to Moody’s evangelistic call.
After working for a Glasgow law firm through the winter, Percy joined his cousin Henry to participate with the Moody mission when the evangelist arrived in Glasgow.
From Glasgow, Moody’s meetings continued in Scotland as he traveled to Perth, Montrose, Aberdeen, Inverness, and finally all the way north to John o’ Groats. In Aberdeen, it was estimated that up to twenty thousand attended the meetings.
Though Percy volunteered only for the Glasgow meetings, his cousin traveled with Moody for several months, during which time a lifelong friendship between young Drummond and the American was formed. During all this time, Percy did not visit Wales again.
A day at length came when Katherine could keep silent no longer. She finally asked Florilyn when she intended to tell Percy of her engagement to Colville Burrenchobay.
“I don’t know, Mother,” replied Florilyn testily. “Why would Percy care? He had the chance to marry me, didn’t he? I’m twenty-three. I need to get on with my life and stop waiting for him to figure out what God wants him to do. What about what I want? I probably won’t tell him at all.”
“I was twenty-five when your father and I were married,” rejoined Katherine. “It’s not such a bad thing to wait a few years.”
“I’ve waited long enough, Mother. I intend to marry Colville and maybe be the wife of a parliamentarian one day. That’s what he says. It’s better than being the wife of a roving evangelist. I can’t think of anything worse! Percy’s so changed from the man I thought I was in love with.”
Katherine knew further expostulation was useless. It pained her to hear Florilyn speak so. Percy was not the only one who had changed. Colville’s influence on Florilyn had been anything but healthy. Katherine shrank from telling Percy of the engagement herself. If only he were in Wales. Yet with Florilyn’s attitude toward him so soured, what could even Percy do now? She only hoped something happened to intervene between now and the lavish summer wedding being planned for Burrenchobay Hall.
Steven was no less concerned than Katherine. He had considered writing Percy in Glasgow so that he would at least know how far Florilyn had sunk. His conclusion, however, was that his interference would probably only make the situation worse. Whatever change was to come had to come from within Florilyn herself.
What a grief it was to these two who loved her—the viscountess and her young factor—to see what the evil influence of one who did not love the truth had been able to work within Florilyn’s heart and mind.
And thus as the weeks lengthened into months, the Drummond household in Glasgow had no inkling of the developments in North Wales. While uncertainty reigned at Westbrooke Manor, a letter arrived at the vicarage in Glasgow in late February with Percy’s name on the envelope. Percy did not recognize the hand. The postmark was from Ireland. Motivated as much from curiosity concerning his failed quest as from the knowledge that Courtenay Westbrooke’s twenty-fifth birthday was only three weeks away, he tore at the envelope with fumbling fingers, pulled out two blue sheets, and read:
My dear Mr. Drummond
,
Though we have not spoken since you were in Laragh last summer inquiring after the O’Sullivan and Maloney families in your search for your uncle’s antecedents in Ireland, I hope you will forgive my presumption in writing you and, for lack of a better phrase, taking matters into my own hands
.
Your plight remained on my mind after you left me. Perhaps it was the earnestness of your desire to find the truth and do the right thing. It has been my experience that there are many who claim to love truth but are not quite so committed to doing the right thing—to following truth even when to do so becomes uncomfortable. Truth can be but an intellectual exercise if it is not empowered by an obedient heart determined to do the right thing. I knew that your heart hungered not only for truth, but also for right
.
At length I took it upon myself to send out a brief letter through the priestly grapevine of eastern Ireland to inquire whether my brothers of nearby parishes were acquainted in their congregations with the names O’Sullivan or Maloney, or even Westbrooke, the other name you mentioned. That was before Christmas. I heard nothing until recently. Then I received a reply from a priest in Arklow who has a woman named Vanora Maloney in his church whose husband works in the shipyards. I told him briefly the reason for my inquiry and asked him to make discreet inquiries. It turns out that these Maloneys indeed at one time lived in Laragh and relocated with his family and mother-in-law, one Maighdlin O’Sullivan who is no longer living
.
The names would hardly seem to be coincidental. Perhaps these are indeed the people you are looking for
.
Hurriedly Percy scanned the remainder of the second sheet.
I wonder if you are following the work in your country of Rev. Moody. I believe he is planning to visit Ireland after leaving Scotland. The “Camp Meeting Revival” style is not what most Catholics are drawn to. I must admit, however, that I admire the man, and he is certainly a positive force for the kingdom of God in the world. Perhaps it would not be an altogether bad thing if more Catholics took their faith with the same personal ardor that evangelicals do. I have considered writing a book, trying to urge my fellow Catholics in that direction. The title
Catholicism Renewed
continues to reverberate in my brain
.
But all that is a matter left for another discussion in the event we have the opportunity to meet again. But if we do not meet again in this world, perhaps we shall have that discussion in the next!
I am,
Sincerely yours,
Father Robert James Halliday,
Laragh Parish, Wicklow
Ireland
Excitedly Percy ran into the breakfast room where his parents were enjoying a last cup of tea together. “Mom … Dad,” he said still holding the letter, “I have to go back to Ireland!”
“I take it there have been developments?” said his father.
“Possibly huge ones! I will tell you everything when I am able. But for now, as I told you before, I can say no more than you already know.” He turned to leave the room.
“Where are you … You’re not leaving now?” said his mother after him.
“I’ll go down to the P & O office to see when there is a sailing for Dublin,” replied Percy. “But yes, I will be on the first available ship. I’ll stop by the law firm. They won’t have a problem doing without me for a week.”
F
IFTY
-T
WO
Arklow
P
ercy did not write to tell Father Halliday of his plans. A letter would in all probability reach him no sooner than he would in person. When he walked into the small, dimly lit church, however, the priest did not seem surprised to see him.
“Ah, Mr. Drummond,” he said with a warm smile. He strode toward Percy with outstretched hand. The two shook hands affectionately. “I had a feeling I would see you again! You must have left the instant you received my letter.”
“I sailed a day later,” said Percy. “It was the first ship I could make.” “I take it you think it possible the people I mentioned are the ones you are looking for?”
“There is no way to know for certain. I hope it will be possible to speak with them.”
“I was so sure that you would want to investigate further that I wrote to Father Abban to expect us.”
“Us?”
“I thought I would take you down, and we could both meet him together. I asked him if he might be able to discover whether there was a young girl in the family of his parish. Where are you staying?”
“Nowhere,” laughed Percy. “I just arrived.”
“Then you shall stay here with me tonight,” said Father Halliday. “I have a small guest room next to my quarters. We shall ride down to Arklow tomorrow.”
The ride of fifteen miles south through the hills from Laragh in Father Halliday’s one-horse buggy took most of the following morning. They arrived in the shipbuilding port of Arklow about midday. Even had Father Halliday not been familiar with the town, the church would not have been difficult to find. Its spire rose prominently over the stone buildings of the place. They found Father Abban in the rectory behind the church eating lunch.