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diff --git a/16002-h/16002-h.htm b/16002-h/16002-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b0a7a11 --- /dev/null +++ b/16002-h/16002-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15144 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Fardorougha, the Miser, by William Carleton + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fardorougha, The Miser, by William Carleton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fardorougha, The Miser + The Works of William Carleton, Volume One + +Author: William Carleton + +Illustrator: M. L. Flanery + +Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16002] +Last Updated: March 1, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FARDOROUGHA, THE MISER *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + FARDOROUGHA, THE MISER. + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By William Carleton + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="spines (42K)" src="images/spines.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="page191 (150K)" src="images/page191.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img alt="titlepage (57K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> PART II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART3"> PART III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART4"> PART IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART5"> PART V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART6"> PART VI. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART7"> PART VII. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART8"> PART VIII. AND LAST. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + List of Illustrations + </h2> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0001"> Page 191— Imprinted the Father's First + Kiss </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0002"> Page 245— He Rattled, and Thumped, And + Screamed </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0003"> Page 282— O'donovan Took the Beloved + One in his Arms </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#linkimage-0004"> Page 311— Most Frightful of All + Precipices—death </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I. + </h2> + <h3> + Fardorougha, the Miser. + </h3> + <p> + It was on one of those nights in August, when the moon and stars shine + through an atmosphere clear and cloudless, with a mildness of lustre + almost continental, that a horseman, advancing at a rapid pace, turned off + a remote branch of road up a narrow lane, and, dismounting before a neat + whitewashed cottage, gave a quick and impatient knock at the door. Almost + instantly, out of a small window that opened on hinges, was protruded a + broad female face, surrounded, by way of nightcap, with several folds of + flannel, that had originally been white. + </p> + <p> + “Is Mary Moan at home?” said the horseman. + </p> + <p> + “For a miricle-ay!” replied the female; “who's <i>down</i>, in the name o' + goodness?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, thin, I'm thinkin' you'll be smilin' whin you hear it,” replied the + messenger. “The sorra one else than Honor Donovan, that's now marrid upon + Fardorougha Donovan to the tune of thirteen years. Bedad, time for her, + anyhow,—but, sure it'll be good whin it comes, we're thinkin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, betther late than never—the Lord be praised for all His + gifts, anyhow. Put your horse down to the mountin'-stone, and I'll be wid + you in half a jiffy, acushla.” + </p> + <p> + She immediately drew in her head, and ere the messenger had well placed + his horse at the aforesaid stirrup, or mounting-stone, which is an + indispensable adjunct to the midwife's cottage, she issued out, cloaked + and bonneted; for, in point of fact, her practice was so extensive, and + the demands upon her attendance so incessant, that she seldom, if ever, + slept or went to bed, unless partially dressed. And such was her habit of + vigilance, that she ultimately became an illustration of the old Roman + proverb, <i>Non dormio omnibus</i>; that is to say, she could sleep as + sound as a top to every possible noise except a knock at the door, to + which she might be said, during the greater part of her professional life, + to have been instinctively awake. + </p> + <p> + Having ascended the mounting-stone, and placed herself on the crupper, the + guide and she, while passing down the narrow and difficult lane, along + which they could proceed but slowly and with caution, entered into the + following dialogue, she having first turned up the hood of her cloak over + her bonnet, and tied a spotted cotton kerchief round her neck. + </p> + <p> + “This,” said the guide, who was Fardorougha Donovan's servant-man, “is a + quare enough business, as some o' the nabors do be sayin—marrid upon + one another beyant thirteen year, an' ne'er a sign of a haporth. Why then + begad it is quare.” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht, whisht,” replied Molly, with an expression of mysterious and + superior knowledge; “don't be spakin' about what you don't understand—sure, + nuttin's impossible to God, avick—don't you know that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bedad, sure enough—that we must allow, whether or not, still—” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; seein' that, what more have we to say, barrin' to hould our + tongues. Children sent late always come either for great good or great + sarra to their parents—an' God grant that this may be for good to + the honest people—for indeed honest people they are, by all + accounts. But what myself wonders at is, that Honor Donovan never once + opened her lips to me about it. However, God's will be done! The Lord send + her safe over all her throubles, poor woman! And, now that we're out o' + this thief of a lane, lay an for the bare life, and never heed me. I'm as + good a horseman as yourself; and, indeed, I've a good right, for I'm an + ould hand at it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm thinkin',” she added, after a short silence, “it's odd I never was + much acquainted with the Donovans. I'm tould they're a hard pack, that + loves the money.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix,” replied her companion, “Let Fardorougha alone for knowin' the + value of a shillin'!—they're not in Europe can hould a harder grip + o' one.” + </p> + <p> + His master, in fact, was a hard, frugal man, and his mistress a woman of + somewhat similar character; both were strictly honest, but, like many + persons to whom God has denied offspring, their hearts had for a + considerable time before been placed upon money as their idol; for, in + truth, the affections must be fixed upon something, and we generally find + that where children are denied, the world comes in and hardens by its + influence the best and tenderest sympathies of humanity. + </p> + <p> + After a journey of two miles they came out on a hay-track, that skirted an + extensive and level sweep of meadow, along which they proceeded with as + much speed as a pillionless midwife was capable of bearing. At length, on + a gentle declivity facing the south, they espied in the distance the low, + long, whitewashed farm-house of Fardorougha Donovan. There was little of + artificial ornament about the place, but much of the rough, heart-stirring + wildness of nature, as it appeared in a strong, vigorous district, well + cultivated, but without being tamed down by those finer and more graceful + touches, which nowadays mark the skilful hand of the scientific + agriculturist. + </p> + <p> + To the left waved a beautiful hazel glen, which gradually softened away + into the meadows above mentioned. Up behind the house stood an ancient + plantation of whitethorn, which, during the month of May, diffused its + fragrance, its beauty, and its melody, over the whole farm. The plain + garden was hedged round by the graceful poplar, whilst here and there were + studded over the fields either single trees or small groups of mountain + ash, a tree still more beautiful than the former. The small dells about + the farm were closely covered with blackthorn and holly, with an + occasional oak shooting up from some little cliff, and towering sturdily + over its lowly companions. Here grew a thick interwoven mass of dog-tree, + and upon a wild hedgerow, leaning like a beautiful wife upon a rugged + husband, might be seen, supported by clumps of blackthorn, that most + fragrant and exquisite of creepers, the delicious honeysuckle. Add to this + the neat appearance of the farm itself, with its meadows and cornfields + waving to the soft sunny breeze of summer, and the reader may admit, that + without possessing any striking features of pictorial effect, it would, + nevertheless, be difficult to find an uplying farm upon which the eye + could rest with greater satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + Ere arriving at the house they were met by Fardorougha himself, a small + man, with dark, but well-set features, which being at no time very placid, + appeared now to be absolutely gloomy, yet marked by strong and profound, + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he exclaimed on meeting them; “is this Mary Moan?” + </p> + <p> + “It is—it is!” she exclaimed; “how are all within?—am I in + time?” + </p> + <p> + “Only poorly,” he returned; “you are, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + The midwife, when they reached the door, got herself dismounted in all + haste, and was about entering the house, when Fardorougha, laying his hand + upon her shoulder, said in a tone of voice full of deep feeling— + </p> + <p> + “I need say nothing to you; what you can do, you will do—but one + thing I expect—if you see danger, call in assistance.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all in the hands o' God, Fardorougha, acushla; be as aisy in your + mind as you can; if there's need for more help you'll hear it; so keep the + man an' horse both ready.” + </p> + <p> + She then blessed herself and entered the house, repeating a short prayer, + or charm, which was supposed to possess uncommon efficacy in relieving + cases of the nature she was then called upon to attend. + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha Donovan was a man of great good sense, and of strong, but not + obvious or flexible feeling; this is to say, on strong occasions he felt + accordingly, but exhibited no remarkable symptoms of emotion. In matters + of a less important character, he was either deficient in sensibility + altogether, or it affected him so slightly as not to be perceptible. What + his dispositions and feelings might have been, had his parental affections + and domestic sympathies been cultivated by the tender intercourse which + subsists between a parent and his children, it is not easy to say. On such + occasions many a new and delightful sensation—many a sweet trait of + affection previously unknown—and, oh! many, many a fresh impulse of + rapturous emotion never before felt gushes out of the heart; all of which, + were it not for the existence of ties so delightful, might have there lain + sealed up forever. Where is the man who does not remember the strange + impression of tumultuous delight which he experienced on finding himself a + husband? And who does not recollect that nameless charm, amounting almost + to a new sense, which pervaded his whole being with tenderness and + transport on kissing the rose-bud lips of his first-born babe? It is, + indeed, by the ties of domestic life that the purity and affection and the + general character of the human heart are best tried. What is there more + beautiful than to see that fountain of tenderness multiplying its + affections instead of diminishing them, according as claim after claim + arises to make fresh demands upon its love? Love, and especially parental + love, like jealousy, increases by what it feeds on. But, oh! from what an + unknown world of exquisite enjoyment are they shut out, to whom Providence + has not vouchsafed those beloved beings on whom the heart lavishes the + whole fulness of its rapture! No wonder that their own affections should + wither in the cold gloom of disappointed hope, or their hearts harden into + that moody spirit of worldly-mindedness which adopts for its offspring the + miser's idol. + </p> + <p> + Whether Fardorougha felt the want of children acutely or otherwise, could + not be inferred from any visible indication of regret on his part by those + who knew him. His own wife, whose facilities of observation were so great + and so frequent, was only able to suspect in the affirmative. For himself + he neither murmured nor repined; but she could perceive that, after a few + years had passed, a slight degree of gloom began to settle on him, and an + anxiety about his crops, and his few cattle, and the produce of his farm. + He also began to calculate the amount of what might be saved from the + fruits of their united industry. Sometimes, but indeed upon rare + occasions, his temper appeared inclining to be irascible or impatient; but + in general it was grave, cold, and inflexible, without any outbreaks of + passion, or the slightest disposition to mirth. His wife's mind, however, + was by no means so firm as his, nor so free from the traces of that secret + regret which preyed upon it. She both murmured and repined, and often in + terms which drew from Fardorougha a cool rebuke for her want of + resignation to the will of God. As years advanced, however, her + disappointment became harassing even to herself, and now that hope began + to die away, her heart gradually partook of the cool worldly spirit which + had seized upon the disposition of her husband, Though cultivating but a + small farm, which they held at a high rent, yet, by the dint of frugality + and incessant diligence, they were able to add a little each year to the + small stock of money which they had contrived to put together. Still would + the unhappy recollection that they were childless steal painfully and + heavily over them; the wife would sometimes murmur, and the husband + reprove her, but in a tone so cool and indifferent that she could not + avoid concluding that his own want of resignation, though not expressed, + was at heart equal to her own. Each also became somewhat religious, and + both remarkable for a punctual attendance upon the rites of their church, + and that in proportion as the love of temporal things overcame them. In + this manner they lived upwards of thirteen years, when Mrs. Donovan + declared herself to be in that situation which in due time rendered the + services of Mary Moan necessary. + </p> + <p> + From the moment this intimation was! given, and its truth confirmed, a + faint light, not greater than the dim and trembling lustre of a single + star, broke in upon the darkened affections and worldly spirit of + Fardorougha Donovan. Had the announcement taken place within a reasonable + period after his marriage, before he had become sick of disappointment, or + had surrendered his heart from absolute despair to an incipient spirit of + avarice, it would no doubt have been hailed with all the eager delight of + unblighted hope and vivid affection; but now a new and subtle habit had + been superinduced, after the last cherished expectation of the heart had + departed; a spirit of foresight and severe calculation descended on him, + and had so nearly saturated his whole being, that he could not for some + time actually determine whether the knowledge of his wife's situation was + more agreeable to his affection, or repugnant to the parsimonious + disposition which had quickened his heart into an energy incompatible with + natural benevolence, and the perception of those tender ties which spring + up from the relations of domestic life. For a considerable time this + struggle between the two principles went on; sometimes a new hope would + spring up, attended in the background by a thousand affecting + circumstances—on the other hand, some gloomy and undefinable dread + of exigency, distress, and ruin, would wring his heart and sink his + spirits down to positive misery. Notwithstanding this conflict between + growing avarice and affection, the star of the father's love had risen, + and though, as we have already said, its light was dim and unsteady, yet + the moment a single opening occurred in the clouded mind, there it was to + be seen serene and pure, a beautiful emblem of undying and solitary + affection struggling with the cares and angry passions of life. By + degrees, however, the husband's heart became touched by the hopes of his + younger years, former associations revived, and remembrances of past + tenderness, though blunted in a heart so much changed, came over him like + the breath of fragrance that has nearly passed away. He began, therefore, + to contemplate the event without foreboding, and by the time the + looked-for period arrived, if the world and its debasing influences were + not utterly overcome, yet nature and the quickening tenderness of a + father's feeling had made a considerable progress in a heart from which + they had been long banished. Far different from all this was the history + of his wife since her perception of an event so delightful. In her was no + bitter and obstinate principle subversive of affection to be overcome. For + although she had in latter years sank into the painful apathy of a + hopeless spirit, and given herself somewhat to the world, yet no sooner + did the unexpected light dawn upon her, than her whole soul was filled + with exultation and delight. The world and its influence passed away like + a dream, and her heart melted into a habit of tenderness at once so novel + and exquisite, that she often assured her husband she had never felt + happiness before. + </p> + <p> + Such are the respective states of feeling in which our readers find + Fardorougha Donovan and his wife, upon an occasion whose consequences run + too far into futurity for us to determine at present whether they are to + end in happiness or misery. For a considerable time that evening, before + the arrival of Mary Moan, the males of the family had taken up their + residence in an inside kiln, where, after having kindled a fire in the + draught-hole, or what the Scotch call the “logie,” they sat and chatted in + that kind of festive spirit which such an event uniformly produces among + the servants of a family. Fardorougha himself remained for the most part + with them, that is to say except while ascertaining from time to time the + situation of his wife. His presence, however, was only a restraint upon + their good-humor, and his niggardly habits raised some rather + uncomplimentary epithets during his short visits of inquiry. It is + customary upon such occasions, as soon as the mistress of the family is + taken ill, to ask the servants to drink “an aisy bout to the misthress, + sir, an' a speedy recovery, not forgettin' a safe landin' to the + youngsther, and, like a Christmas compliment, many of them to you both. + Whoo! death alive, but that's fine stuff. Oh, begorra, the misthress can't + but thrive wid that in the house. Thank you, sir, an' wishin' her once + more safe over her troubles!—divil a betther misthress ever,” etc., + etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + Here, however, there was nothing of the kind. Fardorougha's heart, in the + first instance, was against the expense, and besides, its present + broodings resembled the throes of pain which break out from the stupor + that presses so heavily upon the exhausted functions of life in the crisis + of a severe fever. He could not, in fact, rest nor remain for any length + of time in the same spot. With a slow but troubled step he walked backward + and forward, sometimes uttering indistinct ejaculations and broken + sentences, such as no one could understand. At length he approached his + own servants, and addressed the messenger whose name was Nogher M'Cormick. + </p> + <p> + “Nogher,” said he, “I'm throubled.” + </p> + <p> + “Throubled! dad, Fardorougha, you ought to be a happy and a thankful man + this night, that is, if God sinds the misthress safe over it, as I hope He + will, plase goodness.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm poor, Nogher, I'm poor, an' here's a family comin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, take care it's not sin you're com-mittin' by spakin' as you're + doin'.” + </p> + <p> + “But you know I'm poor, Nogher.” + </p> + <p> + “But I know you're <i>not</i>, Fardorougha; but I'm afraid, if God hasn't + said it, your heart's too much fix'd upon the world. Be my faix, it's on + your knees you ought to be this same night, thankin' the Almighty for His + goodness, and not grumblin' an' sthreelin' about the place, flyin' in the + face of God for sendin' you an' your wife ablessin'—for sure I hear + the Scripthur says that all childhres a blessin' if they're resaved as + sich; an' wo be to the man, says Scripthur, dat's born wid a millstone + about his neck, especially if he's cast into the say. I know you pray + enough, but, be my sowl, it hasn't improved your morals, or it's the + misthress' health we'd be drinkin' in a good bottle o' whiskey at the + present time. Faix, myself wouldn't be much surprised if she had a hard + twist in consequence, an' if she does, the fault's your own an' not ours, + for we're willin' as the flowers o' May to drink all sorts o' good luck to + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Nogher,” said the other, “it's truth a great dale of what you've sed—maybe + all of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I know,” returned Nogher, “that about the whiskey it's parfit + gospel.” + </p> + <p> + “In one thing I'll be advised by you, an' that is, I'll go to my knees and + pray to God to set my heart right if it's wrong. I feel strange—strange, + Nogher—happy, an' not happy.” + </p> + <p> + “You needn't go to your knees at all,” replied Nogher, “if you give us the + whiskey; or if you do pray, be in earnest, that your heart may be inclined + to do it.” + </p> + <p> + “You desarve none for them words,” said Fardorougha, who felt that + Nogher's buffoonery jarred upon the better feelings that were rising + within him—“you desarve none, an' you'll get none—for the + present at laste, an' I'm only a fool for spaking to you.” + </p> + <p> + He then retired to the upper part of the kiln, where, in a dark corner, he + knelt with a troubled heart, and prayed to God. + </p> + <p> + We doubt not but such readers as possess feeling will perceive that + Fardorougha was not only an object at this particular period of much + interest, but also entitled to sincere sympathy. Few men in his + circumstances could or probably would so earnestly struggle with a + predominant passion as he did, though without education, or such a + knowledge of the world as might enable him, by any observation of the + human heart in others, to understand the workings in his own. He had not + been ten minutes at prayer when the voice of his female servant was heard + in loud and exulting tones, calling out, ere she approached the kiln + itself— + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, ca woul thu?—Where's my footin', masther? Where's my + arles?—Come in—come in, you're a waitin' to kiss your son—the + misthress is dyin' till you kiss our son.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were uttered as she entered the kiln. + </p> + <p> + “Dyin'!” he repeated—“the misthress dyin'—oh Susy, let a + thousand childre go before her—dyin'! did you say dyin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay did I, an' it's truth too; but it's wid joy she's dyin' to see you + kiss one of the purtiest young boys in all the barony of Lisnamona—myself's + over head and ears in love wid him already.” + </p> + <p> + He gave a rapid glance upwards, so much so that it was scarcely + perceptible, and immediately accompanied her into the house. The child, in + the meantime, had been dressed, and lay on its mother's arm in the bed + when its father entered. He approached the bedside and glanced at it—then + at the mother who lay smiling beside it—she extended her hand to + him, whilst the soft, sweet tears of delight ran quietly down her cheeks. + When he seized her hand he stooped to kiss her, but she put up her other + hand and said— + </p> + <p> + “No, no, you must kiss him first.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page191.jpg" + alt="Page 191-- Imprinted the Father's First Kiss " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + He instantly stooped over the babe, took it in his arms, looked long and + earnestly upon it, put it up near him, again gave it a long, intense gaze, + after which he raised its little mouth to his own, and then imprinted the + father's first kiss upon the fragrant lips of his beloved first-born. + Having gently deposited the precious babe upon its mother's arm, he caught + her hand and imprinted upon her lips a kiss;—but to those who + understand it, we need not describe it—to those who cannot, we could + give no adequate notion of that which we are able in no other way to + describe than by saying that it would seem as if the condensed enjoyment + of a whole life were concentrated into that embrace of the child and + mother. + </p> + <p> + When this tender scene was over, the midwife commenced— + </p> + <p> + “Well, if ever a man had raison to be thank—” + </p> + <p> + “Silence, woman!” he exclaimed in a voice which hushed her almost into + terror. + </p> + <p> + “Let him alone,” said the wife, addressing her, “let him alone, I know + what he feels.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he replied, “even you, Honora, don't know it—my heart, my + heart went astray, and there, undher God and my Saviour, is the being that + will be the salvation of his father.” + </p> + <p> + His wife understood him and was touched; the tears fell fast from her + eyes, and, extending her hand to him, she said, as he clasped it: + </p> + <p> + “Sure, Fardorougha, the world won't be as much in your heart now, nor your + temper so dark as it was.” + </p> + <p> + He made no reply; but, placing his other hand over his eyes, he sat in + that posture for some minutes. On raising his head the tears were running + as if involuntarily down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Honora,” said he, “I'll go out for a little—you can tell Mary Moan + where anything's to be had—let them all be trated so as that they + don't take too much—and, Mary Moan, you won't be forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + He then passed out, and did not appear for upwards of an hour, nor could + any one of them tell where he had been. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Honora, after he had left the room, “we're now married near + fourteen years; and until this night I never see him shed a tear.” + </p> + <p> + “But sure, acushla, if anything can touch a father's heart, the sight of + his first child will. Now keep yourself aisy, avourneen, and tell me where + the whiskey an' anything else that may be a wantin' is, till I give these + crathurs of sarvints a dhrop of something to comfort thim.” + </p> + <p> + At this time, however, Mrs. Donovan's mother and two sisters, who had some + hours previously been sent for, just arrived, a circumstance which once + more touched the newly awakened chord of the mother's heart, and gave her + that confidence which the presence of “one's own blood,” as the people + expressed it, always communicates upon such occasions. After having kissed + and admired the babe, and bedewed its face with the warm tears of + affection, they piously knelt down, as is the custom among most Irish + families, and offered up a short but fervent prayer of gratitude as well + for an event so happy, as for her safe delivery, and the future welfare of + the mother and child. When this was performed, they set themselves to the + distribution of the blithe meat or groaning malt, a duty which the midwife + transferred to them with much pleasure, this being a matter which, except + in matters of necessity, she considered beneath the dignity of her + profession. The servants were accordingly summoned in due time, and, + headed by Nogher, soon made their appearance. In events of this nature, + servants in Ireland, and we believe everywhere else, are always allowed a + considerable stretch of good-humored license in those observations which + they are in the habit of making. Indeed, this is not so much an + extemporaneous indulgence of wit on their part, as a mere repetition of + the set phrases and traditionary apothegms which have been long + established among the peasantry, and as they are generally expressive of + present satisfaction and good wishes for the future, so would it be looked + upon as churlishness, and in some cases, on the part of the servants, a + sign of ill-luck, to neglect them. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Honora's mother to the servants of both sexes, “now, childre, + that you've aite a trifle, you must taste something in the way of dhrink. + It would be too bad on this night above all nights we've seen yet, not to + have a glass to the stranger's health at all events. Here, Nogher, thry + this, avick—you never got a glass wid a warmer heart.” + </p> + <p> + Nogher took the liquor, his grave face charged with suppressed humor, and + first looking upon his fellow-servants with a countenance so droll yet + dry, that none but themselves understood, it, he then directed a very + sober glance at the good woman. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am,” he exclaimed; “be goxty, sure enough if our hearts + wouldn't get warm now, they'd never warm. A happy night it is for + Fardorougha and the misthress, at any rate. I'll engage the stranger was + worth waitin' for, too. I'll hould a thrifle, he's the beauty o' the world + this minnit—an' I'll engage it's breeches we'll have to be I gettin + for him some o' these days, the darlin'. Well, here's his health, any way; + an' may he——” + </p> + <p> + “Husth, arogorah!” exclaimed the mid-wife; “stop, I say—the tree + afore the fruit, all the world over; don't you know, an' bad win to you, + that if the sthranger was to go to-morrow, as good might come afther him, + while the paarent stocks are to the fore. The mother an' father first, + acushla, an' thin the sthranger.” + </p> + <p> + “Many thanks to you, Mrs. Moan,” replied Nogher, “for settin' me right—sure + we'll know something ourselves whin it comes our turn, plase goodness. If + the misthress isn't asleep, by goxty, I'd call in to her, that I'm + dhrinkin' her health.” + </p> + <p> + “She's not asleep,” said her mother; “an' proud she'll be, poor thing, to + hear you, Nogher.” + </p> + <p> + “Misthress!” he said in a loud voice, “are you asleep, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, Nogher,” she replied, in a good-humored tone of voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am,” said Nogher, still in a loud voice, and scratching his + head, “here's your health; an' now that the ice is bruk—be goxty, + an' so it is sure,” said he in an undertone to the rest—“Peggy, + behave yourself,” he continued, to one of the servant-maids, “mockin's + catchin': faix, you dunna what's afore yourself yet—beg pardon—I'm + forgettin' myself—an' now that the ice is bruk, ma'am,” he resumed, + “you must be dacent for the futher. Many a bottle, plase goodness, we'll + have this way yet. Your health, ma'am, an' a speedy recovery to you—an' + a sudden uprise—not forgettin' the masther—long life to him!” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said the midwife, “are you forgettin' the sthranger?” + </p> + <p> + Nogher looked her full in the face, and opened his mouth, without saying a + word, literally pitched the glass of spirits to the very bottom of his + throat. + </p> + <p> + “Beggin' your pardon, ma'am,” he replied, “is it three healths you'd have + me dhrink wid the one glassful?—not myself, indeed; faix, I'd be + long sorry to make so little of him—if he was a bit of a <i>girsha</i> + I'd not scruple to give him a corner o' the glass, but, bein' a young man + althers the case intirely—he must have a bumper for himself.” + </p> + <p> + “A girsha!” said Peggy, his fellow-servant, feeling the indignity just + offered to her sex—“Why thin, bad manners to your assurance for that + same: a girsha's as well intitled to a full glass as a gorsoon, any day.” + </p> + <p> + “Husth a colleen,” said Nogher, good—humoredly, “sure, it's takin' + pattern by sich a fine example you ought to be. This, Mrs. Moan, is the + purty crature I was mintionin' as we came along, that intends to get + spanshelled wid myself some o' these days—that is, if she can bring + me into good-humor, the thief.” + </p> + <p> + “And if it does happen,” said Peggy, “you'll have to look sharper afther + him, Mrs. Moan. He's pleasant enough now, but I'll be bound no man 'ill + know betther how to hang his fiddle behind the door when he comes home to + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, acushla, sure he may, if he likes, but if he does, he knows what's + afore him—not sayin' that he ever will, I hope, for it's a woful + case whin it comes to that, ahagur.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, it's a happy story for half the poor wives of the parish that + you're in it,” said Peggy, “sure, only fore——” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Be dhe huath Vread, agus glak sho</i>—hould your tongue, Peggy, + and taste this,” said the mother of her mistress, handing her a glass: “If + you intend to go together, in the name o' goodness fear God more than the + midwife, if you want to have luck an' grace.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, is it all this?” exclaimed the sly girl; “faix, it 'ill make me + hearty if I dhrink so much—bedeed it will. Well, misthress, your + health, an' a speedy uprise to you—an' the same to the masther, not + forgettin' the sthranger—long life an' good health to him.” + </p> + <p> + She then put the glass to her lips, and after several small sips, + appearing to be so many unsuccessful attempts at overcoming her reluctance + to drink it, she at length took courage, and bolting it down, immediately + applied her apron to her mouth, making at the same time two or three wry + faces, gasping, as if to recover the breath which it did not take from + her. + </p> + <p> + The midwife, in the mean time, felt that the advice just given to Nogher + and Peggy contained a clause somewhat more detrimental to her importance + than was altogether agreeable to her; and to sit calmly under any + imputation that involved a diminution of her authority, was not within the + code of her practice. + </p> + <p> + “If they go together,” she observed, “it's right to fear God, no doubt; + but that's no raison why they shouldn't pay respect to thim that can sarve + thim or otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody says aginst that, Mrs. Moan,” replied the other; “it's all fair, + an' nothin' else.” + </p> + <p> + “A midwife's nuttin' in your eyes, we suppose,” rejoined Mrs. Moan; “but + maybe's there's thim belongin' to you could tell to the contrary.” + </p> + <p> + “Oblaged to you, we suppose, for your sarvices—an' we're not denyin' + that, aither.” + </p> + <p> + “For me sarvices—maybe thim same sarvices wasn't very sweet or + treaclesome to some o' thim,” she rejoined, with a mysterious and somewhat + indignant toss of the head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said the other in a friendly tone, “that makes no maxims one + way or the other, only dhrink this—sure we're not goin' to quarrel + about it, any how.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid, Honora More! but sure it ud ill become me to hear my own + corree—no, no, avourneen,” she exclaimed, putting hack the glass; “I + can't take it this—a—way; it doesn't agree wid me; you must + put a grain o' shugar an' a dhrop o' bilin' wather to it. It may do very + well hard for the sarvints, but I'm not used to it.” + </p> + <p> + “I hird that myself afore,” observed Nogher, “that she never dhrinks hard + whiskey. Well, myself never tasted punch but wanst, an' be goxty its great + dhrink. Death alive, Honora More,” he continued, in his most insinuating + manner, “make us all a sup. Sure, blood alive, this is not a common night, + afther what God has sint us: Fardorougha himself would allow you, if he + was here; deed, be dad, he as good as promised me he would; an' you know + we have the young customer's health to drink yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, an' you ought,” said the mid-wife; “the boy says nuttin' but the + thruth—it's not a common night; an' if God has given Fardorougha + substance, he shouldn't begridge a little, if it was only to show a + grateful heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said Honora More—which means great Honora, in + opposition to her daughter, Fardorougha's wife; this being an epithet + adopted for the purpose of contradistinguishing the members of a family + when called by the same name—“Well,” said she, “I suppose it's as + good. My own heart, dear knows, is not in a thrifle, only I have my doubts + about Fardorougha. However, what's done can't be undone; so, once we mix + it, he'll be too late to spake if he comes in, any way.” + </p> + <p> + The punch was accordingly mixed, and they were in the act of sitting down + to enjoy themselves with more comfort when Fardorougha entered. As before, + he was silent and disturbed, neither calm nor stern, but laboring, one + would suppose, under strong feelings of a decidedly opposite character. On + seeing the punch made, his brow gathered into something like severity; he + looked quickly at his mother-in-law, and was about to speak, but, pausing + a moment, he sat down, and after a little time said in a kind voice— + </p> + <p> + “It's right, it's right—for his sake, an' on his account, have it; + but, Honora, let there be no waste.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure we had to make it for Mrs. Moan whether or not,” said his + mother-in-law, “she can't drink it hard, poor woman.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Moan, who had gone to see her patient, having heard his voice again, + made her appearance with the child in her arms, and with all the + importance which such a burden usually bestows upon persons of her + calling. + </p> + <p> + “Here,” said she, presenting him the infant, “take a proper look at this + fellow. That I may never, if a finer swaddy ever crossed my hands. Throth + if you wor dead tomorrow he'd be mistaken for you—your born image—the + sorra thing else—eh alanna—the Lord loves my son—faix, + you've daddy's nose upon you anyhow—an' his chin to a turn. Oh, + thin, Fardorougha, but there's many a couple rowlin' in wealth that 'ud be + proud to have the likes of him; an' that must die an' let it all go to + strangers, or to them that doesn't care about them, 'ceptin' to get + grabbin' at what they have, that think every day a year that they're above + the sod. What! manim-an—kiss your child, man alive. That I may + never, but he looks at the darlin' as if it was a sod of turf. Throth + you're not worthy of havin' such a bully.” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha, during this dialogue, held the child in his arms and looked + upon it earnestly as before, but without betraying any visible indication + of countenance that could enable a spectator to estimate the nature of + what passed within him. At length there appeared in his eye a barely + perceptible expression of benignity, which, however, soon passed away, and + was replaced by a shadow of gloom and anxiety. Nevertheless, in compliance + with the commands of the midwife, he kissed its lips, after which the + servants all gathered round it, each lavishing upon the little urchin + those hyperbolical expressions of flattery, which, after all, most parents + are willing to receive as something approximating to gospel truth. + </p> + <p> + “Bedad,” said Nogher, “that fellow 'ill be the flower o' the Donovans, if + God spares him—be goxty, I'll engage he'll give the purty girls many + a sore heart yet—he'll play the dickens wid 'em, or I'm not here—a + wough! do you hear how the young rogue gives tongue at that? the sorra one + o' the shaver but knows what I'm savin'.” + </p> + <p> + Nogher always had an eye to his own comfort, no matter under what + circumstances he might be placed. Having received the full glass, he + grasped his master's hand, and in the usual set phrases, to which, + however, was added much extempore matter of his own, he drank the baby's + health, congratulating the parents, in his own blunt way, upon this + accession to their happiness. The other servants continued to pour out + their praises in terms of delight and astonishment at his accomplishments + and beauty, each, in imitation of Nogher, concluding with a toast in + nearly the same words. + </p> + <p> + How sweet from all other lips is the praise of those we love! Fardorougha, + who, a moment before, looked upon his infant's face with an unmoved + countenance, felt incapable of withstanding the flattery of his own + servants when uttered in favor of the child. His eye became complacent, + and while Nogher held his hand, a slight pressure in return was proof + sufficient that his heart beat in accordance with the hopes they expressed + of all that the undeveloped future might bestow upon him. + </p> + <p> + When their little treat was over, the servants withdrew for the night, and + Fardorougha himself, still laboring under an excitement so complicated and + novel, retired rather to shape his mind to some definite tone of feeling + than to seek repose. + </p> + <p> + How strange is life, and how mysteriously connected is the woe or the weal + of a single family with the great mass of human society! We beg the reader + to stand with us upon a low, sloping hill, a little to the left of + Fardorougha's house, and, after having solemnized his heart by a glance at + the starry gospel of the skies, to cast his eye upon the long, + white-washed dwelling, as it shines faintly in the visionary distance of a + moonlight night. How full of tranquil beauty is the hour, and how deep the + silence, except when it is broken by the loud baying of the watch-dog, as + he barks in sullen fierceness at his own echo! Or perhaps there is nothing + heard but the sugh of the mountain river, as with booming sound it rises + and falls in the distance, filling the ear of midnight with its wild and + continuous melody. Look around, and observe the spirit of repose which + sleeps on the face of nature; think upon the dream of human life, and of + all the inexplicable wonders which are read from day to day in that + miraculous page—the heart of man. Neither your eye nor imagination + need pass beyond that humble roof before you, in which it is easy to + perceive, by the lights passing at this unusual hour across the windows, + that there is something added either to their joy or to their sorrow. + There is the mother, in whose heart was accumulated the unwasted + tenderness of years, forgetting all the past in the first intoxicating + influence of an unknown ecstasy, and looking to the future with the eager + aspirations of affection. There is the husband, too, for whose heart the + lank devil of the avaricious—the famine-struck god of the miser—is + even now contending with the almost extinguished love which springs up in + a father's bosom on the sight of his first-born. + </p> + <p> + Reader, who can tell whether the entrancing visions of the happy mother, + or the gloomy anticipations of her apprehensive husband, are most + prophetic of the destiny which is before their child. Many indeed and + various are the hopes and fears felt under that roof, and deeply will + their lights and shadows be blended in the life of the being whose claims + are so strong upon their love. There, for some time past the lights in the + window have appeared less frequently—one by one we presume the + inmates have gone to repose—no other is now visible—the last + candle is extinguished, and this humble section of the great family of man + is now at rest with the veil of a dark and fearful future unlifted before + them. + </p> + <p> + There is not perhaps in the series of human passions any one so difficult + to be eradicated out of the bosom as avarice, no matter with what seeming + moderation it puts itself forth, or under what disguise it may appear. And + among all its cold-blooded characteristics there is none so utterly + unaccountable as that frightful dread of famine and ultimate starvation, + which is also strong in proportion to the impossibility of its ever being + realized. Indeed, when it arrives to this we should not term it a passion, + but a malady, and in our opinion the narrow-hearted patient should be + prudently separated from society, and treated as one laboring under an + incurable species of monomania. + </p> + <p> + During the few days that intervened between our hero's birth and his + christening, Fardorougha's mind was engaged in forming some fixed + principle by which to guide his heart in the conflict that still went on + between avarice and affection. In this task he imagined that the father + predominated over the miser almost without a struggle; whereas, the fact + was, that the subtle passion, ever more ingenious than the simple one, + changed its external character, and came out in the shape of affectionate + forecast and provident regard for the wants and prospects of his child. + This gross deception of his own heart he felt as a relief; for, though + smitten with the world, it did not escape him that the birth of his little + one, all its circumstances considered, ought to have caused him to feel an + enjoyment unalloyed by the care and regret which checked his sympathies as + a parent. Neither was conscience itself altogether silent, nor the blunt + remonstrances of his servants wholly without effect. Nay, so completely + was his judgment overreached that he himself attributed this anomalous + state of feeling to a virtuous effort of Christian duty, and looked upon + the encroachments which a desire of saving wealth had made on his heart as + a manifest proof of much parental attachment. He consequently loved his + wealth through the medium of his son, and laid it down as a fixed + principle that every act of parsimony on his part was merely one of + prudence, and had the love of a father and an affectionate consideration + for his child's future welfare to justify it. + </p> + <p> + The first striking instance of this close and griping spirit appeared upon + an occasion which seldom fails to open, in Ireland at least, all the warm + and generous impulses of our mature. When his wife deemed it necessary to + make those hospitable preparations for their child's christening, which + are so usual in the country, he treated her intention of complying with + this old custom as a direct proof—of unjustifiable folly and + extravagance—nay, his remonstrance with her exhibited such + remarkable good sense and prudence, that it was a matter of extreme + difficulty to controvert it, or to perceive that it originated from any + other motive than a strong interest in the true welfare of their child. + </p> + <p> + “Will our wasting meat and money, an' for that matthur health and time, on + his christenin', aither give him more health or make us love him betther? + It's not the first time; Honora, that I've heard yourself make little of + some of our nabors for goin' beyant their ability in gettin' up big + christenins. Don't be foolish now thin when it comes to your own turn.” + </p> + <p> + The wife took the babe up, and, after having gazed affectionately on its + innocent features, replied to him, in a voice of tenderness and reproof— + </p> + <p> + “God knows, Fardorougha, an' if I do act wid folly, as you call it, in + gettin' ready his christenin', surely, surely you oughtn't to blame the + mother for that. Little I thought, acushla oge, that your own father 'ud + begrudge you as good a christenin' as is put over any other nabor's child. + I'm afraid, Fardorougha, he's not as much in your heart as he ought to + be.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a bad proof of love for him, Honora, to put to the bad what may an' + would be serviceable to him hereafter. You only think for the present; but + I can't forget that he's to be settled in the world, an' you know yourself + what poor means we have o' doin' that, an' that if we begin to be + extravagant an' wasteful, bekase God has sent him, we may beg wid him + afore long.” + </p> + <p> + “There's no danger of us beggin' wid him. No,” she continued, the pride of + the mother having been touched, “my boy will never beg—no, avourneen—you + never will—nor shame or disgrace will never come upon him aither. + Have you no trust in God, Fardorougha?” + </p> + <p> + “God never helps them that neglect themselves, Honora.” + </p> + <p> + “But if it was plasing to His will to remove him from us, would you ever + forgive yourself not lettin' him have a christenin' like another child?” + rejoined the persevering mother. + </p> + <p> + “The priest,” replied the good man, “will do as much for the poor child as + the rich; there's but one sacrament for both; anything else is waste, as I + said, an' I won't give in to it. You don't considher that your way of it + 'ud spend as much in one day as 'ud clothe him two or three years.” + </p> + <p> + “May I never sin this day, Fardorougha, but one 'ud think you're tired of + him already. By not givin' in to what's dacent you know you'll only fret + me—a thing that no man wid half a heart 'ud do to any woman + supportin' a babby as I am. A fretted nurse makes a child sick, as Molly + Moan tould you before she went; so that it's not on my own account I'm + spakin', but on his—poor, weeny pet—the Lord love him! Look at + his innocent purty little face, an' how can you have the heart, + Fardorougha? Come, avourneen, give way to me this wanst; throth, if you + do, you'll see how I'll nurse him, an' what a darlin' lump o' sugar I'll + have him for you in no time!” + </p> + <p> + He paused a little at this delicate and affecting appeal of the mother; + but, except by a quick glance that passed from her to their child, it was + impossible to say whether or not it made any impression on his heart, or + in the slightest degree changed his resolution. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” said he, “let me alone now. I'll think of it. I'll turn it + over an' see what's best to be done; do you the same, Honora, an' may be + your own sinse will bring you to my side of the question at last.” + </p> + <p> + The next day, his wife renewed the subject with unabated anxiety; but, + instead of expressing any change in her favor, Fardorougha declined even + to enter into it at all. An evasive reply was all she could extract from + him, with an assurance that he would in a day or two communicate the + resolution to which he had finally come. She perceived, at once, that the + case was hopeless, and, after one last ineffectual attempt to bring him + round, she felt herself forced to abandon it. The child, therefore, much + to the mother's mortification, was baptized without a christening, unless + the mere presence of the godfather and godmother, in addition to + Fardorougha's own family, could be said to constitute one. + </p> + <p> + Our readers, perhaps, are not aware that a cause of deep anxiety, hitherto + unnoticed by us, operated with latent power upon Fardorougha's heart. But + so strong in Ireland is the beautiful superstition—if it can with + truth be termed so—that children are a blessing only when received + as such, that, even though supported by the hardest and most shameless of + all vices, avarice, Fardorougha had not nerve to avow this most unnatural + source for his distress. The fact, however, was, that, to a mind so + constituted, the apprehension of a large family was in itself a + consideration, which he thought might, at a future period of their lives, + reduce both him and his to starvation and death. Our readers may remember + Nogher M'Cormick's rebuke to him, when he heard Fardorougha allude to + this; and so accessible was he then to the feeling, that, on finding his + heart at variance with it, he absolutely admitted his error, and prayed to + God that he might be enabled to overcome it. + </p> + <p> + It was, therefore, on the day after the baptism of young Connor, for so + had the child been called after his paternal grandfather, that, as a + justification for his own conduct in the matter of the christening, he + disclosed to his wife, with much reluctance and embarrassment, this + undivulged source of his fears for the future, alleging it as a just + argument for his declining to be guided by her opinion. + </p> + <p> + The indignant sympathies of the mother abashed, on this occasion, the + miserable and calculating impiety of the husband; her reproaches were open + and unshrinking, and her moral sense of his conduct just and beautiful. + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” said she, “I thought, up to this time, to this day, that + there was nothing in your heart but too much of the world; but now I'm + afeard, if God hasn't sed it, that the devil himself's there. You're + frettin' for 'fraid of a family; but has God sent us any but this one yet? + No—an' I wouldn't be surprised, if the Almighty should punish your + guilty heart, by making the child he gave you, a curse, instead of a + blessin'. I think, as it is, he has brought little pleasure to you for so + far, and, if your heart hardens as he grows up, it's more unhappy you'll + get every day you live.” + </p> + <p> + “That's very fine talk, Honora; but to people in our condition, I can't + see any very great blessin' in a houseful of childre. If we're able to + provide for this one, we'll have raison to be thankful widout wishin' for + more.” + </p> + <p> + “It's my opinion, Fardorougha, you don't love the child.” + </p> + <p> + “Change that opinion, then, Honora; I do love the child; but there's no + needcessity for blowin it about to every one I meet. If I didn't love him, + I wouldn't feel as I do about all the hardships that may be before him. + Think of what a bad sason, or a failure of the craps, might bring us all + to. God grant that we mayn't come to the bag and staff before he's settled + in the world at all, poor thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well, Fardorougha; you may make yourself as unhappy as you like; + for me, I'll put my trust in the Saviour of the world for my child. If you + can trust in any one better than God, do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Honora, there's no use in this talk—it'll do nothing aither for him + or us—besides, I have no more time to discoorse about it.” + </p> + <p> + He then left her; but, as she viewed his dark, inflexible features ere he + went, an oppressive sense of something not far removed from affliction + weighed her down. The child had been asleep in her arms during the + foregoing dialogue, and, after his father had departed, she placed him in + the cradle, and, throwing the corner of her blue apron over her shoulder, + she rocked him into a sounder sleep, swaying herself at the same time to + and fro, with that inward sorrow, of which, among the lower classes of + Irish females, this motion is uniformly expressive. It is not to be + supposed, however, that, as the early graces of childhood gradually + expanded (as they did) into more than ordinary beauty, the avarice of the + father was not occasionally encountered in its progress by! sudden gushes + of love for his son. It was impossible for any parent, no matter how + strongly strongly the hideous idol of mammon might sway his heart, to look + upon a creature so fair and beautiful, without being frequently touched + into something like affection. The fact was, that, as the child advanced + towards youth, the two principles we are describing nearly kept pace one + with the other. That the bad and formidable passion made rapid strides, + must be admitted, but that it engrossed the whole spirit of the father, is + not true. The mind and gentle character of the boy—his affectionate + disposition, and the extraordinary advantages of his person—could + not fail sometimes to surprise his father into sudden bursts of affection. + But these, when they occurred, were looked upon by Fardorougha as so many + proofs that he still entertained for the boy love sufficient to justify a + more intense desire of accumulating wealth for his sake. Indeed, ere the + lad had numbered thirteen summers, Fardorougha's character as a miser had + not only gone far abroad throughout the neighborhood, but was felt, by the + members of his own family, with almost merciless severity. From habits of + honesty, and a decent sense of independence, he was now degraded to + rapacity and meanness; what had been prudence, by degrees degenerated into + cunning; and he who, when commencing life, was looked upon only as a + saving man, had now become notorious for extortion and usury. + </p> + <p> + A character such as this, among a people of generous and lively feeling + like the Irish, is in every state of life the object of intense and + undisguised abhorrence. It was with difficulty he could succeed in + engaging servants, either for domestic or agricultural purposes, and, + perhaps, no consideration, except the general kindness which was felt for + his wife and son, would have induced any person whatsoever to enter into + his employment. Honora and Connor did what in them lay to make the + dependents of the family experience as little of Fardorougha's griping + tyranny as possible. Yet, with all their kind-hearted ingenuity and secret + bounty, they were scarcely able to render their situation barely + tolerable. + </p> + <p> + It would be difficult to find any language, no matter what pen might wield + it, capable of portraying the love which Honora Donovan bore to her + gentle, her beautiful, and her only son. Ah! there in that last epithet, + lay the charm which wrapped her soul in him, and in all that related to + his welfare. The moment she saw it was not the will of God to bless them + with other offspring, her heart gathered about him with a jealous + tenderness which trembled into agony at the idea of his loss. + </p> + <p> + Her love for him, then, multiplied itself into many hues, for he was in + truth the prism, on which, when it fell, all the varied beauty of its + colors became visible. Her heart gave not forth the music of a single + instrument, but breathed the concord of sweet sounds, as heard from the + blended melody of many. Fearfully different from this were the feelings of + Fardorougha, on finding that he was to be the first and the last + vouchsafed to their union. A single regret, however, scarcely felt, + touched even him, when he reflected that if Connor were to be removed from + them, their hearth must become desolate. But then came the fictitious + conscience, with its nefarious calculations, to prove that, in their + present circumstances, the dispensation which withheld others was a + blessing to him that was given. Even Connor himself, argued the miser, + will be the gainer by it, for what would my five loaves and three fishes + be among so many? The pleasure, however, that is derived from the + violation of natural affection is never either full or satisfactory. The + gratification felt by Fardorougha, upon reflecting that no further + addition was to be made to their family, resembled that which a hungry man + feels who dreams he is partaking of a luxurious banquet. Avarice, it is + true, like fancy, was gratified, but the enjoyment, though rich to that + particular passion, left behind it a sense of unconscious remorse, which + gnawed his heart with a slow and heavy pain, that operated like a + smothered fire, wasting what it preys upon, in secrecy and darkness. In + plainer terms, he was not happy, but so absorbed in the ruling passion—the + pursuit of wealth—that he felt afraid to analyze his anxiety, or to + trace to its true source the cause of his own misery. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, his boy grew up the pride and ornament of the parish, + idolized by his mother, and beloved by all who knew him. Limited and + scanty was the education which his father could be prevailed upon to + bestow upon him; but there was nothing that could deprive him of his + natural good sense, nor of the affections which his mother's love had + drawn out and cultivated. One thing was remarkable in him, which we + mention with reluctance, as it places his father's character in a + frightful point of view; it is this, that his love for that father was + such as is rarely witnessed, even in the purest and most affectionate + circles of domestic life. But let not our readers infer, either from what + we have written, or from any thing we may write, that Fardorougha hated + this lovely and delightful boy; on the contrary, earth contained not an + object, except his money, which he loved so well. His affection for him, + however, was only such as could proceed from the dregs of a defiled and + perverted heart. This is not saying much, but it is saying all. What in + him was parental attachment, would in another man, to such a son, be + unfeeling and detestable indifference. His heart sank on contemplating the + pittance he allowed for Connor's education; and no remonstrance could + prevail on him to clothe the boy with common decency. Pocket-money was out + of the question, as were all those considerate indulgences to youth, that + blunt, when timely afforded, the edge of early anxiety to know those + amusements of life, which, if not innocently gratified before passion gets + strong, are apt to produce, at a later period, that giddy intoxication, + which has been the destruction of thousands. When Connor, however, grew + up, and began to think for himself, he could not help feeling that, from a + man so absolutely devoted to wealth as his father was, to receive even the + slenderest proof of affection, was in this case no common manifestation of + the attachment he bore him. There was still a higher and nobler motive. He + could not close his ears to the character which had gone abroad of his + father, and from that principle of generosity, which induces a man, even + when ignorant of the quarrel, to take the weaker side, he fought his + battles, until, in the end, he began to believe them just. But the most + obvious cause of the son's attachment we have not mentioned, and it is + useless to travel into vain disquisitions, for that truth which may be + found in the instinctive impulses of nature. He was Connor's father, and + though penurious in everything that regarded even his son's common + comfort, he had never uttered a harsh word to him during his life, or + denied him any gratification which could be had without money. Nay, a kind + word, or a kind glance, from Fardorougha, fired the son's resentment + against the world which traduced him; for how could it be otherwise, when + the habitual defence made by him, when arraigned for his penury, was an + anxiety to provide for the future welfare and independence of his son? + </p> + <p> + Many characters in life appear difficult to be understood, but if those + who wish to analyze them only consulted human nature, instead of rushing + into far-fetched theories, and traced with patience the effect which + interest, or habit, or inclination is apt to produce on men of a peculiar + temperament, when placed in certain situations, there would be much less + difficulty in avoiding those preposterous exhibitions which run into + caricature, or outrage the wildest combinations that can be formed from + the common elements of humanity. + </p> + <p> + Having said this much, we will beg our readers to suppose that young + Connor is now twenty-two years of age, and request them, besides, to + prepare for the gloom which is about to overshadow our story. + </p> + <p> + We have already stated that Fardorougha was not only an extortioner, but a + usurer. Now, as some of our readers may be surprised that a man in his + station of life could practise usury or even extortion to any considerable + extent, we feel it necessary to inform them that there exists among Irish + farmers a class of men who stand, with respect to the surrounding poor and + improvident, in a position precisely analogous to that which is occupied + by a Jew or moneylender among those in the higher classes who borrow, and + are extravagant upon a larger scale. If, for instance, a struggling small + farmer have to do with a needy landlord or an unfeeling agent, who + threatens to seize or eject, if the rent be not paid to the day, perhaps + this small farmer is forced to borrow from one of those rustic Jews the + full amount of the gale; for this he gives him, at a valuation dictated by + the lender's avarice and his own distress, the oats, or potatoes, or hay, + which he is not able to dispose of in sufficient time to meet the demand + that is upon him. This property, the miser draws home, and stacks or + houses it until the markets are high, when he disposes of it at a price + which often secures for him a profit amounting to one-third, and + occasionally one-half, above the sum lent, upon which, in the meantime, + interest is accumulating. For instance, if the accommodation be twenty + pounds, property to that amount at a ruinous valuation is brought home by + the accommodator. This perhaps sells for thirty, thirty-five, or forty + pounds, so that, deducting the labor of preparing it for market, there is + a gain of fifty, seventy-five, or a hundred per cent. besides, probably, + ten per cent, interest, which is altogether distinct from the former. This + class of persons will also take a joint bond, or joint promissory note, + or, in fact, any collateral security they know to be valid, and if the + contract be not fulfilled, they immediately pounce upon the guarantee. + They will, in fact, as a mark of their anxiety to assist a neighbor in + distress, receive a pig from a widow, or a cow from a struggling small + farmer, at thirty or forty per cent, beneath its value, and claim the + merit of being a friend into the bargain. Such men are bitter enemies to + paper money, especially to notes issued by private bankers, which they + never take in payment. It is amusing, if a person could forget the + distress which occasions the scene, to observe one of these men producing + an old stocking, or a long black leathern purse—or a calf-skin + pocket-book with the hair on, and counting down, as if he gave out his + heart's blood drop by drop, the specific sum, uttering, at the same time, + a most lugubrious history of his own poverty, and assuring the poor wretch + he is fleecing, that if he (the miser) gives way to his good nature, he + must ultimately become the victim of his own benevolence. In no case, + however, do they ever put more in the purse or stocking than is just then + wanted, and sometimes they will be short a guinea or ten shillings, which + they borrow from a neighbor, or remit to the unfortunate dupe in the + course of the day. This they do in order to enhance the obligation, and + give a distinct proof of their poverty. Let not, therefore, the gentlemen + of the Minories, nor our P———s and our M———s + nearer home, imagine for a moment that they engross the spirit of rapacity + and extortion to themselves. To the credit of the class, however, to which + they belong, such persons are not so numerous as formerly, and to the + still greater honor of the peasantry be it said, the devil himself is not + hated with half the detestation which is borne them. In order that the + reader may understand our motive for introducing such a description as + that we have now given, it will be necessary for us to request him to + accompany a stout, well-set young man, named Bartle Flanagan, along a + green ditch, which, planted with osiers, leads to a small meadow belonging + to Fardorougha Donovan. In this meadow, his son Connor is now making hay, + and on seeing Flanagan approach, he rests upon the top of his rake, and + exclaims in a soliloquy:— + </p> + <p> + “God help you and yours, Bartle! If it was in my power, I take God to + witness, I'd make up wid a willin' heart for all the hardship and + misfortune my father brought upon you all.” + </p> + <p> + He then resumed his labor, in order that the meeting between him and + Bartle might take place with less embarrassment, for he saw at once that + the former was about to speak to him. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't the weather too hot, Connor, to work bareheaded? I think you ought + to keep on your hat.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle, how are you?—off or on, it's the same thing; hat or no hat, + it's broilin' weather, the Lord be praised! What news, Bartle?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, Connor, but what you know—a family that was strugglin', + but honest, brought to dissolation. We're broken up; my father and + mother's both livin' in a cabin they tuck from Billy Nuthy; Mary and + Alick's gone to sarvice, and myself's just on my way to hire wid the last + man I ought to go to—your father, that is, supposin' we can agree.” + </p> + <p> + “As heaven's above me, Bartle, there's not a man in the county this day + sorrier for what has happened than myself! But the truth is, that when my + father heard of Tom Grehan, that was your security, havin' gone to + America, he thought every day a month till the note was due. My mother an' + I did all we could, but you know his temper; 'twas no use. God knows, as I + said before, I'm heart sorry for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Every one knows, Connor, that if your mother an' you had your way an' + will, your father wouldn't be sich a screw as he is.” + </p> + <p> + “In the meantime, don't forget that he is my father, Bartle, an' above all + things, remimber that I'll allow no man to speak disparagingly of him in + my presence.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you'll allow, Connor, that he was a scourge an' a curse to us, + an' that none of us ought to like a bone in his skin.” + </p> + <p> + “It couldn't be expected you would, Bartle; but you must grant, after all, + that he was only recoverin' his own. Still, when you know what my feeling + is upon the business, I don't think it's generous in you to bring it up + between us.” + </p> + <p> + “I could bear his harrishin' us out of house an' home,” proceeded the + other, “only for one thought that still crasses in an me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is that, Bartle?—God knows I can't help feelin' for you,” he + added, smote with the desolation which his father had brought upon the + family. + </p> + <p> + “He lent us forty pounds,” proceeded the young man; “and when he found + that Tom Grehan, our security, went to America, he came down upon us the + minute the note was due, canted all we had at half price, and turned us to + starve upon the world; now, I could bear that, but there's one thing——” + </p> + <p> + “That's twice you spoke about that one thing,” said Connor, somewhat + sharply, for he felt hurt at the obstinacy of the other, in continuing a + subject so distressing to him; “but,” he continued, in a milder tone, + “tell me, Bartle, for goodness' sake, what it is, an' let us put an' end + to the discoorse. I'm sure it must be unpleasant to both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't signify,” replied the young man, in a desponding voice—“she's + gone; it's all over wid me there; I'm a beggar—I'm a beggar!” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Connor, taking his hand, “you're too much downhearted; come + to us, but first go to my father; I know you'll find it hard to deal with + him. Never mind that; whatever he offers you, close wid him, an' take my + word for it that my mother and I between us will make you up dacent wages; + an' sorry I am that it's come to this wid you, poor fellow!” + </p> + <p> + Bartle's cheek grew pale as ashes; he wrung Connor's hand with all his + force, and fixed an unshrinking eye on him as he replied— + </p> + <p> + “Thank you Connor, now—but I hope I'll live to thank you better yet, + and if I do, you needn't thank me for any return I may make you or yours. + I will close wid your father, an' take whatsomever he'll order me; for, + Connor,” and he wrung his hand again—“Connor O'Donovan, I haven't a + house or home this day, nor a place under God's canopy where to lay my + head, except upon the damp floor of my father's naked cabin. Think of + that, Connor, an' think if I can forget it; still,” he added, “you'll see, + Connor—Connor, you'll see how I'll forgive it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a credit to yourself to spake as you do,” replied Connor; “call this + way, an' let me know what's done, an' I hope, Bartle, you an' I will have + some pleasant days together.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' pleasant nights, too, I hope,” replied the other: “to be sure + I'll call; but if you take my advice, you'd tie a handkerchy about your + head; it's mad hot, an' enough to give one a fever bareheaded.” + </p> + <p> + Having made this last observation, he loaped across a small drain that + bounded the meadow, and proceeded up the fields to Fardorougha's house. + </p> + <p> + Bartle Flanagan was a young man, about five feet six in height, but of a + remarkably compact and athletic form. His complexion was dark, but his + countenance open, and his features well set and regular. Indeed his whole + appearance might be termed bland and prepossessing. If he ever appeared to + disadvantage it was whilst under the influence of resentment, during which + his face became pale as death, nay, almost livid; and, as his brows were + strong and black, the contrast between them and his complexion changed the + whole expression of his countenance into that of a person whose enmity a + prudent man would avoid. He was not quarrelsome, however, nor subject to + any impetuous bursts of passion; his resentments, if he retained any, were + either dead or silent, or, at all events, so well regulated that his + acquaintances looked upon him as a young fellow of a good-humored and + friendly disposition. It is true, a hint had gone abroad that on one or + two occasions he was found deficient in courage; but, as the circumstances + referred to were rather unimportant, his conduct by many was attributed + rather to good sense and a disinclination to quarrel on frivolous grounds, + than to positive cowardice. Such he was, and such he is, now that he has + entered upon the humble drama of our story. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at Fardorougha's house, he found that worthy man at dinner, + upon a cold bone of bacon and potatoes. He had only a few moments before + returned from the residence of the County Treasurer, with whom he went to + lodge, among other sums, that which was so iniquitously wrung from the + ruin of the Flanagans. It would be wrong to say that he felt in any degree + embarrassed on looking into the face of one whom he had so oppressively + injured. The recovery of his usurious debts, no matter how merciless the + process, he considered only as an act of justice to himself, for his + conscience having long ago outgrown the perception of his own inhumanity, + now only felt compunction when death or the occasional insolvency of a + security defeated his rapacity. + </p> + <p> + When Bartle entered, Fardorougha and he surveyed each other with perfect + coolness for nearly half a minute, during which time neither uttered a + word. The silence was first broken by Honora, who put forward a chair, and + asked Flanagan to sit down. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Bartle,” said she, “sit down, boy; an' how is all the family?” + </p> + <p> + “'Deed, can't complain,” replied Bartle, “as time goes; an' how are you, + Fardorougha? although I needn't ax—you re takin' care of number one, + any how.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm middlin', Bartle, middlin'; as well as a man can be that has his + heart broke every day in the year strivin' to come by his own, an' can't + do it; but I'm a fool, an' ever was—sarvin' others an' ruinin' + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Mrs. Donovan, “are you unwell, dear? you look as pale as + death. Let me get you a drink of fresh milk.” + </p> + <p> + “If he's weak,” said Fardorougha, “an' he looks weak, a drink of fresh + wather 'ud be betther for him; ever an' always a drink of wather for a + weak man, or a weak woman aither; it recovers them sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, kindly, Mrs. Donovan, an' I'm obliged to you, Fardorougha, for + the wather; but I'm not a bit weak; it's only the heat o' the day ails me—for + sure enough it's broilin' weather.” + </p> + <p> + “'Deed it is,” replied Honora, “kill in' weather to them that has to be + out undher it.” + </p> + <p> + “If it's good for nothin' else, it's good for, the hay—makin',” + observed Fardorougha. + </p> + <p> + “I'm tould, Misther Donovan,” said Bartle, “that' you want a sarvint man: + now, if you do, I want a place, an' you see I'm comin' to you to look for + one.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven above, Bartle!” exclaimed Honora, “what do you mean? Is it one of + Dan Flanagan's sons goin' to sarvice?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one, but all of them,” replied the other, coolly, “an' his daughters, + too, Mrs. Donovan; but it's all the way o! the world. If Mr. Donovan 'll + hire me I'll thank him.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be Mistherin' me, Bartle; Misther them that has means an' + substance,” returned Donovan. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God forgive you, Fardorougha!” exclaimed his honest and humane wife. + “God forgive you! Bartle, from my heart, from the core o' my heart, I pity + you, my poor boy. An' is it to this, Fardorougha, you've brought them—Oh, + Saviour o' the world!” + </p> + <p> + She fixed her eyes upon the victim of her husband's extortion, and in an + instant they were filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + “What did I do,” said the latter, “but strive to recover my own? How could + I afford to lose forty pounds? An' I was tould for sartin that your father + knew Grehan was goin' to Ameriky when he got him to go security. Whisht, + Honora, you're as foolish a woman as riz this day; haven't you your sins + to cry for?” + </p> + <p> + “God knows I have, Fardorougha, an' more than my own to cry for.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you did hear as much,” said Bartle, quietly replying to the + observation of Fardorougha respecting his father; “but you know it's a + folly to talk about spilt milk. If you want a sarvint I'll hire; for, as I + said a while ago, I want a place, an' except wid you I don't know where to + get one.” + </p> + <p> + “If you come to me,” observed the other, “you must go to your duty, an' + observe the fast days, but not the holydays.” + </p> + <p> + “Sarvints isn't obliged to obsarve them,” replied Bartle. + </p> + <p> + “But I always put it in the bargain,” returned the other. + </p> + <p> + “As to that,” said Bartle, “I don't much mind it. Sure it'll be for the + good o' my sowl, any way. But what wages will you be givin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty shillings every half year;—that's three pounds—sixty + shillings a year. A great deal o' money. I'm sure I dunna where it's to + come from.” + </p> + <p> + “It's very little for a year's hard labor,” replied Bartle, “but little as + it is, Fardorougha, owin' to what has happened betwixt us, believe me, I'm + right glad to take it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but Bartle, you know there's fifteen shillins of the ould account + still due, and you must allow it out o' your wages; if you don't, it's no + bargain.” + </p> + <p> + Bartle's face became livid; but he was perfectly cool;—indeed, so + much so that he smiled at this last condition of Fardorougha. It was a + smile, however, at once so ghastly, dark, and frightful, that, by any + person capable of tracing the secret workings of some deadly passion on + the countenance, its purport could not have been mistaken. + </p> + <p> + “God knows, Fardorougha, you might let that pass—considher that + you've been hard enough upon us.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows I say the same,” observed Honora. “Is it the last drop o' the + heart's blood you want to squeeze out, Fardorougha?” + </p> + <p> + “The last drop! What is it but my right? Am I robbin' him? Isn't it due? + Will he, or can he deny that? An' if it's due isn't it but honest in him + to pay it? They're not livin' can say I ever defrauded them of a penny. I + never broke a bargain; an' yet you open on me, Honora, as if I was a + rogue! If I hadn't that boy below to provide for, an' settle in the world, + what 'ud I care about money? It's for his sake I look afther my right.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll allow the money,” said Bartle. “Fardorougha's right; it's due, an' + I'll pay him—ay will I, Fardorougha, settle wid you to the last + farden, or beyant it if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't take a farden beyant it, in the shape of debt. Them that's + decent enough to make a present, may—for that's a horse of another + color.” + </p> + <p> + “When will I come home?” inquired Bartle. + </p> + <p> + “You may stay at home now that you're here,” said the other. “An' in the + mane time, go an' help Connor put that hay in lap-cocks. Anything you want + to bring here you can bring afther your day's work tonight.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ate your dinner, Bartle?” said Honora; “bekase if you didn't I'll + get you something.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not to this time o' day he'd be without his dinner, I suppose,” + observed his new master. + </p> + <p> + “You're very right, Fardorougha,” rejoined Bartle; “I'm thankful to you, + ma'am, I did ate my dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you'll get a rake in the barn, Bartle,” said his master; “an' now + tramp down to Connor, an' I'll see how you'll handle yourselves, both o' + you, from this till night.” + </p> + <p> + Bartle accordingly—proceeded towards the meadow, and Fardorougha, as + was his custom, throwing his great coat loosely about his shoulders, the + arms dangling on each side of him, proceeded to another part of his farm. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan's step, on his way to join Connor, was slow and meditative. The + kindness of the son and mother touched him; for the line between their + disposition and Fardorougha's was too strong and clear to allow the + slightest suspicion of their participation in the spirit which regulated + his life. The father, however, had just declared that his anxiety to + accumulate money arose from a wish to settle his son independently in + life; and Flanagan was too slightly acquainted with human character to see + through this flimsy apology for extortion. He took it for granted that + Fardorougha spoke truth, and his resolution received a bias from the + impression, which, however, his better nature determined to subdue. In + this uncertain state of mind he turned about almost instinctively, to look + in the direction which Fardorougha had taken, and as he observed his + diminutive figure creeping along with his great coat about him, he felt + that the very sight of the man who had broken up their hearth and + scattered them on the world, filled his heart with a deep and deadly + animosity that occasioned him to pause as a person would do who finds + himself unexpectedly upon the brink of a precipice. + </p> + <p> + Connor, on seeing him enter the meadow with the rake, knew at once that + the terms had been concluded between them; and the excellent young man's + heart was deeply moved at the destitution which forced Flanagan to seek + for service with the very individual who had occasioned it. + </p> + <p> + “I see, Bartle,” said he, “you have agreed.” + </p> + <p> + “We have,” replied Bartle. “But if there had been any other place to be + got in the parish—(an' indeed only for the state I'm in)—I + wouldn't have hired myself to him for nothing, or next to nothing, as I + have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what did he promise?” + </p> + <p> + “Three pounds a year, an' out o' that I'm to pay him fifteen shillings + that my father owes him still.” + </p> + <p> + “Close enough, Bartle, but don't be cast down; I'll undertake that my + mother an' I will double it—an' as for the fifteen shillings I'll + pay them out o' my own pocket—when I get money. I needn't tell you + that we're all kept upon the tight crib, and that little cash goes far + with us; for all that, we'll do what I promise, go as it may.” + </p> + <p> + “It's more than I ought to expect, Connor; but yourself and your mother, + all the counthry would put their hands undher both your feets.” + </p> + <p> + “I would give a great dale, Bartle, that my poor father had a little of + the feelin' that's in my mother's heart; but it's his way, Bartle, an' you + know he's my father, an' has been kinder to me than to any livin' creature + on this earth. I never got a harsh word from him yet. An' if he kept me + stinted in many things that I was entitled to as well as other persons + like me, still, Bartle, he loves me, an' I can't but feel great affection + for him, love the money as he may.” + </p> + <p> + This was spoken with much seriousness of manner not unmingled with + somewhat of regret, if not sorrow. Bartle fixed his eye upon the fine face + of his companion, with a look in which there was a character of + compassion. His countenance, however, while he gazed on him, maintained + his natural color—it was not pale. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, Connor,” said he slowly, “I am sorry that I hired with your + father.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'm glad of it,” replied the other; “why should you be sorry?” + </p> + <p> + Bartle made no answer for some time, but looked into the ground, as if he + had not heard him. + </p> + <p> + “Why should you be sorry, Bartle?” + </p> + <p> + Nearly a minute elapsed before his abstraction was broken. “What's that?” + said he at length. “What were you asking me?” + </p> + <p> + “You said you were sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ay!” returned the other, interrupting him; “but I didn' mind what I + was sayin': 'twas thinkin' o' somethin' else I was—of home, Bartle, + an' what we're brought to; but the best way's to dhrop all discoorse about + that forever.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll be my friend if you do,” said Connor. + </p> + <p> + “I will, then,” replied Bartle; “we'll change it. Connor, were you ever in + love?” + </p> + <p> + O'Donovan turned quickly about, and, with a keen glance at Bartle, + replied, + </p> + <p> + “Why, I don't know; I believe I might, once or so.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>am</i>,” said Flanagan, bitterly; “I <i>am</i> Connor.” + </p> + <p> + “An' who's the happy crature, will you tell us?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned the other; “but if there's a wish that I'd make against my + worst enemy, 'twould be, that he might love a girl above his means; or if + he was her aquil, or even near her aquil, that he might be brought”——he + paused, but immediately proceeded, “Well, no matter, I am, indeed, + Connor.” + </p> + <p> + “An' is the girl fond o' you?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; my mind was made up to tell her but it's past that now; I + know she's wealthy and proud both, and so is all her family.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know she's proud when you never put the subject to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sayin' she's proud, in one sinse; wid respect to herself, I + believe; she's humble enough; I mane, she doesn't give herself many airs, + but her people's as proud as the very sarra, an' never match below them; + still, if I'd opportunities of bain' often in her company, I'd not fear to + trust to a sweet tongue for comin' round her.” + </p> + <p> + “Never despair, Bartle,” said Connor; “you know the ould proverb, 'a + faintheart;' however, settin' the purty crature aside, whoever she is, I + think if we divided ourselves—you to that side, an' me to this—we'd + get this hay lapped in half the time; or do you take which side you + plase.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a bargain,” said Bartle; “I don't care a trawneen; I'll stay where I + am, thin, an' do you go beyant; let us hurry, too, for, if I'm not + mistaken, it's too sultry to be long without rain, the sky, too, is + gettin' dark.” + </p> + <p> + “I observed as much myself,” said Connor; “an' that was what made me + spake.” + </p> + <p> + Both then continued their labor with redoubled energy, nor ceased for a + moment until the task was executed, and the business of the day concluded. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan's observation was indeed correct, as to the change in the day and + the appearance of the sky. From the hour of five o'clock the darkness + gradually deepened, until a dead black shadow, fearfully still and solemn, + wrapped the whole horizon. The sun had altogether disappeared, and nothing + was visible in the sky but one unbroken mass of darkness, unrelieved even + by a single pile of clouds. The animals, where they could, had betaken + themselves to shelter; the fowls of the air sought the covert of the + hedges, and ceased their songs; the larks fled from the mid-heaven; and + occasionally might be seen a straggling bee hurrying homewards, careless + of the flowers which tempted him in his path, and only anxious to reach + his hive before the deluge should overtake him. The stillness indeed was + awful, as was the gloomy veil which darkened the face of nature, and + filled the mind with that ominous terror which presses upon the heart like + a consciousness of guilt. In such a time, and under the aspect of a sky so + much resembling the pall of death, there is neither mirth nor laughter, + but that individuality of apprehension, which, whilst it throws the + conscience in upon its own records, and suspends conversation, yet draws + man to his fellows, as if mere contiguity were a safeguard against danger. + </p> + <p> + The conversation between the two young men as they returned from their + labor, was short but expressive. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Connor, “are you afeard of thundher? The rason I ask,” he + added, “is, bekase your face is as white as a sheet.” + </p> + <p> + “I have it from my mother,” replied Flanagan, “but at all evints such an + evenin' as this is enough to make the heart of any man quake.” + </p> + <p> + I'll feel my spirits low, by rason of the darkness, but I'm not afraid. + It's well for them that have a clear conscience; they say that a stormy + sky is the face of an angry God—” + </p> + <p> + “An' the thundher His voice,” added Bartle; “but why are the brute bastes + an' the birds afraid, that commit no sin?” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said his companion; “it must be natural to be afraid, or + why would they indeed?—but some people are naturally more timersome + than others.” + </p> + <p> + “I intinded to go home for my other clo'es an' linen this evenin',” + observed Bartle, “but I won't go out to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “I must thin,” said Connor; “an, with the blessin' o' God, will too; come + what may.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what is there to bring you out, if it's a fair question to ax?” + inquired the other. + </p> + <p> + “A promise, for one thing; an' my own inclination—my own heart—that's + nearer the thruth—for another. It's the first meetin' that I an' her + I'm goin' to ever had.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Thigham, Thighum</i>, I undherstand,” said Flanagan; “well, I'll stay + at home; but, sure it's no harm to wish you success—an' that, + Connor, is more than I'll ever have where I wish for it most.” + </p> + <p> + This closed their dialogue, and both entered Fardorougha's house in + silence. + </p> + <p> + Up until twilight, the darkness of the dull and heavy sky was unbroken; + but towards the west there was seen a streak whose color could not be + determined as that of blood or fire. By its angry look, it seemed as if + the sky in that quarter were about to burst forth in one awful sweep of + conflagration. Connor observed it, and very correctly anticipated the + nature and consequences of its appearance; but what will not youthful love + dare and overcome? With an undismayed heart he set forward on his journey, + which we leave him to pursue, and beg permission, meanwhile, to transport + the reader to a scene distant about two miles farther towards the—inland + part of the country. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II. + </h2> + <p> + The dwelling of Bodagh Buie O'Brien, to which Connor is now directing his + steps, was a favorable specimen of that better class of farm-houses + inhabited by our most extensive and wealthy agriculturists. It was a + large, whitewashed, ornamentally thatched building, that told by its + external aspect of the good living, extensive comforts, and substantial + opulence which prevailed within. Stretched before its hall-door was a + small lawn, bounded on the left by a wall that separated it from the + farm-yard into which the kitchen door opened. Here were stacks of hay, + oats, and wheat, all upon an immense scale, both as to size and number; + together with threshing and winnowing machines, improved ploughs, carts, + cars, and all the other modern implements of an extensive farm. Very + cheering, indeed, was the din of industry that arose from the clank of + machinery, the grunting of hogs, the cackling of geese, the quacking of + ducks, and all the various other sounds which proceeded from what at first + sight might have appeared to be rather a scene of confusion, but which, on + closer inspection, would be found a rough yet well—regulated system, + in which every person had an allotted duty to perform. Here might Bodagh + Buie be seen, dressed in a gray broad-cloth coat, broad kerseymere + breeches, and lambs' wool stockings, moving from place to place with that + calm, sedate, and contented air, which betokens an easy mind and a + consciousness of possessing a more than ordinary share of property and + influence. With hands thrust into his small-clothes pockets, and a bunch + of gold seals suspended from his fob, he issued his orders in a grave and + quiet tone, differing very little in dress from an absolute <i>Squireen</i>, + save in the fact of his Caroline hat being rather scuffed, and his strong + shoes begrimed with the soil of his fields or farm-yard. Mrs. O'Brien was, + out of the sphere of her own family, a person of much greater pretension + than the Bodagh her husband; and, though in a different manner, not less + so in the discharge of her duty as a wife, a mother, or a mistress. In + appearance, she was a large, fat, good-looking woman, eternally in a state + of motion and bustle, and, as her education had been extremely scanty, her + tone and manner, though brimful of authority and consequence, were + strongly marked with that ludicrous vulgarity which is produced by the + attempt of an ignorant person to accomplish a high style of gentility. She + was a kind-hearted, charitable woman, however; but so inveterately + conscious of her station in life, that it became, in her opinion, a matter + of duty to exhibit a refinement and elevation of language suitable to a + matron who could drive every Sunday to Mass on her own jaunting car. When + dressed on these Occasions in her rich rustling silks, she had, what is + called in Ireland, a comfortable <i>flaghoola</i> look, but at the same + time a carriage so stiff and rustic, as utterly overcame all her attempts, + dictated as they were by the simplest vanity, at enacting the arduous and + awful character of a Squireen's wife. Their family consisted of a son and + daughter; the former, a young man of a very amiable disposition, was, at + the present period of our story, a student in Maynooth College, and the + latter, now in her nineteenth year, a promising pupil in a certain + seminary for young ladies, conducted by that notorious Master of Arts, + Little Cupid. Oona, or Una, O'Brien, was in truth a most fascinating and + beautiful brunette; tall in stature, light and agile in all her motions, + cheerful and sweet in temper, but with just as much of that winning + caprice, as was necessary to give zest and piquancy to her whole + character. Though tall and slender, her person was by no means thin; on + the contrary, her limbs and figure were very gracefully rounded, and gave + promise of that agreeable fulness, beneath or beyond which no perfect + model of female proportion can exist. If our readers could get one glance + at the hue of her rich cheek, or fall for a moment under the power of her + black mellow eye, or witness the beauty of her white teeth, while her face + beamed with a profusion of dimples, or saw her while in the act of shaking + out her invincible locks, ere she bound them up with her white and + delicate hands—then, indeed, might they understand why no war of the + elements could prevent Connor O'Donovan from risking life and limb sooner + than disappoint her in the promise of their first meeting. + </p> + <p> + Oh that first meeting of pure and youthful love! With what a glory is it + ever encircled in the memory of the human heart! No matter how long or how + melancholy the lapse of time since its past existence may be, still, + still, is it remembered by our feelings when the recollection of every tie + but itself has departed. The charm, however, that murmured its many-toned + music through the soul of Una O'Brien was not, upon the evening in + question, wholly free from a shade of melancholy for which she could not + account; and this impression did not result from any previous examination + of her love for Connor O'Donovan, though many such she had. She knew that + in this the utmost opposition from both her parents must be expected; nor + was it the consequence of a consciousness on her part, that in promising + him a clandestine meeting, she had taken a step which could not be + justified. Of this, too, she had been aware before; but, until the hour of + appointment drew near, the heaviness which pressed her down was such as + caused her to admit that the sensation, however painful and gloomy, was + new to her, and bore a character distinct from anything that could proceed + from the various lights in which she had previously considered her + attachment. This was, moreover, heightened by the boding aspect of the + heavens and the dread repose of the evening, so unlike anything she had + ever witnessed before. Notwithstanding all this, she was sustained by the + eager and impatient buoyancy of first affection; which, when imagination + pictured the handsome form of her young and manly lover, predominated for + the time over every reflection and feeling that was opposed to itself. Her + mind, indeed, resembled a fair autumn landscape, over which the + cloud-shadows may be seen sweeping for a moment, whilst again the sun + comes out and turns all into serenity and light. + </p> + <p> + The place appointed for their interview was a small paddock shaded by + alders, behind her father's garden, and thither, with trembling limbs and + palpitating heart, did the young and graceful daughter of Bodagh Buie + proceed. + </p> + <p> + For a considerable time, that is to say, for three long years before this + delicious appointment, had Connor O'Donovan and Una been wrapped in the + elysium of mutual love. At mass, at fair, and at market, had they often + and often met, and as frequently did their eyes search each other out, and + reveal in long blushing glances the state of their respective hearts. Many + a time did he seek an opportunity to disclose what he felt, and as often, + with confusion, and fear, and delight, did she afford him what he sought. + Thus did one opportunity after another pass away, and as often did he form + the towering resolution to reveal his affection if he were ever favored + with another. Still would some disheartening reflection, arising from the + uncommon gentleness and extreme modesty of his character, throw a damp + upon his spirit. He questioned his own penetration; perhaps she was in the + habit of glancing as much at others as she glanced at him. Could it be + possible that the beautiful daughter of Bodagh Buie, the wealthiest man, + and of his wife, the proudest woman, within a large circle of the country, + would love the son of Fardorougha Donovan, whose name had, alas, become so + odious and unpopular? But then the blushing face, and dark lucid eyes, and + the long earnest glance, rose before his imagination, and told him that, + let the difference in the character and the station of their parents be + what it might, the fair dark daughter of O'Brien was not insensible to + him, nor to the anxieties he felt. + </p> + <p> + The circumstance which produced the first conversation they ever had arose + from an incident of a very striking and singular character. About a week + before the evening in question, one of Bodagh Buie's bee-skeps hived, and + the young colony, though closely watched and pursued, directed their + course to Fardorougha's house, and settled in the mouth of the chimney. + Connor, having got a clean sheet, secured them, and was about to submit + them to the care of the Bodagh's servants, when it was suggested that the + duty of bringing them home devolved on himself, inasmuch as he was told + they would not remain, unless placed in a new skep by the hands of the + person on whose property they had settled. While on his way to the + Bodagh's he was accosted in the following words by one of O'Brien's + servants: + </p> + <p> + “Connor, there's good luck before you, or the bees wouldn't pick you out + amongst all the rest o' the neighbors. You ought to hould up your head, + man. Who knows what mainin's in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, do you b'lieve that bees sittin' wid one is a sign o' good luck?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely I do. Doesn't every one know it to be thrue? Connor, you're a + good-lookin' fellow, an' I need scarcely tell you that we have a purty + girl at home; can you lay that an' that together? Arrah, be my sowl, the + richest honey ever the same bees'll make, is nothin' but alloways, + compared wid that purty mouth of her own! A honey-comb is a fool to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, did you ever thry, Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it me? Och, och, if I was only high enough in this world, maybe I + wouldn't be spakin' sweet to her; no, no, be my word! thry, indeed, for + the likes o' me! Faith, but I know a sartin young man that she does be + often spakin' about.” + </p> + <p> + Connor's heart was in a state of instant commotion. + </p> + <p> + “An' who—who is he—who is that sartin young man, Mike?” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, the son o' one that can run a shillin' farther than e'er another + man in the country. Do you happen to be acquainted wid one Connor + O'Donovan, of Lisnamona?” + </p> + <p> + “Connor O'Donovan—that's good, Mike—in the mane time don't be + goin' it on us. No, no;—an' even if she did, it isn't to you she + spake about any one, Michael ahagur!” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor it wasn't to me—sure I didn't say it was—but don't + you know my sister's at sarvice in the Bodagh's family? Divil the word o' + falsity I'm tellin' you; so, if you haven't the heart to spake for + yourself, I wouldn't give knots o' straws for you; and now, there's no + harm done I hope—moreover, an' by the same token, you needn't go to + the trouble o' puttin' up an advertisement to let the parish know what + I've tould you.” + </p> + <p> + “Hut, tut, Mike, it's all folly. Una Dhun O'Brien to think of me!—nonsense, + man; that cock would never fight.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well; divil a morsel of us is forcin' you to b'lieve it. I suppose + the mother o' you has your <i>wooden spoon</i> to the fore still. I'd kiss + the Bravery you didn't come into the world wid a silver ladle in your + mouth, anyhow. In the mane time, we're at the Bodagh's—an' have an + eye about you afther what you've heard—<i>Nabocklish!</i>” + </p> + <p> + This, indeed, was important intelligence to Connor, and it is probable + that, had he not heard it, another opportunity of disclosing his passion + might have been lost. + </p> + <p> + Independently of this, however, he was not proof against the popular + superstition of the bees, particularly as it appeared to be an augury to + which his enamored heart could cling with all the hope of young and + passionate enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Nor was it long till he had an opportunity of perceiving that she whose + image had floated in light before his fancy, gave decided manifestations + of being struck by the same significant occurrence. On entering the + garden, the first person his eye rested upon was Una herself, who, as some + of the other hives were expected to swarm, had been engaged watching them + during the day. His appearance at any time would have created a tumult in + her bosom, but, in addition to this, when she heard that the bees which + had rested on Connor's house, had swarmed from <i>her own hive</i>, to use + the words of Burns— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + She looked—she reddened like the rose, + Syne pale as ony lily, +</pre> + <p> + and, with a shy but expressive glance at Connor, said, in a low hurried + voice, “These belong to me.” + </p> + <p> + Until the moment we are describing, Connor and she, notwithstanding that + they frequently met in public places, had never yet spoken; nor could the + words now uttered by Una be considered as addressed to him, although from + the glance that accompanied them it was sufficiently evident that they + were intended for him alone. It was in vain that he attempted to accost + her; his confusion, her pleasure, his timidity, seemed to unite in + rendering him incapable of speaking at all. His lips moved several times, + but the words, as they arose, died away unspoken. + </p> + <p> + At this moment, Mike, with waggish good-humor, and in a most laudable fit + of industry, reminded the other servants, who had been assisting to secure + the bees, that as they (the bees) were now safe, no further necessity + existed for their presence. + </p> + <p> + “Come, boys—death-alive, the day's passin'—only think. Miss + Una, that we have all the hay in the Long-shot meadow to get into cocks + yet, an' here we're idlin' an' ghosther—in' away our time like I + dunna what. They're schamin', Miss Una—divil a thing else, an' + what'll the masther say if the same meadow's not finished to—night?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Mike,” replied Una—; “if the meadow is to be finished this + night, there's little time to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, boys,” exclaimed Mike, “you hear what Miss Una says—if it's + to be finished to-night there's but little time to be lost—turn out—march. + Miss Una can watch the bees widout our help. Good evenin', Misther + Donovan; be my word, but you're entitled to a taste o' honey any way, for + bringing back Miss Una's bees to her.” + </p> + <p> + Mike, after having uttered this significant opinion relative to his sense + of justice, drove his fellow-servants out of the garden, and left the + lovers together. There was now a dead silence, during the greater part of + which, neither dared to look at the other; at length each hazarded a + glance; their eyes met, and their embarrassment deepened in a tenfold + degree. Una, on withdrawing her gaze, looked with an air of perplexity + from one object to another, and at length, with downcast lids, and glowing + cheeks, her eyes became fixed on her own white and delicate finger. + </p> + <p> + “Who would think,” said she, in a voice tremulous with agitation, “that + the sting of a bee could be so painful.” + </p> + <p> + Connor advanced towards her with a beating heart. “Where have you been + stung, Miss O'Brien?” said he, in a tone shaken out of it's fulness by + what he felt. + </p> + <p> + “In the finger,” she replied, and she looked closely into the spot as she + uttered the words. + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me see it?” asked Connor. + </p> + <p> + She held her hand towards him without knowing what she did, nor was it + till after a strong effort that Connor mastered himself so far as to ask + her in which finger she felt the pain. In fact, both saw at once that + their minds were engaged upon far different thoughts, and that their + anxiety to pour out the full confession of their love was equally deep and + mutual. + </p> + <p> + As Connor put the foregoing question to her, he took her hand in his. + </p> + <p> + “In what finger?” she replied, “I don't—indeed—I—I + believe in the—the—but what—what is this?—I am + very—very weak.” + </p> + <p> + “Let me support you to the summer—house, where you can sit,” + returned Connor, still clasping her soft delicate hand in his; then, + circling her slender waist with the other, he helped her to a seat under + the thick shade of the osiers. + </p> + <p> + Una's countenance immediately became pale as death, and her whole frame + trembled excessively. + </p> + <p> + “You are too weak even to sit without support,” said Connor, “your head is + droopin'. For God's sake, lean it over on me! Oh! I'd give ten thousand + lives to have it on my breast only for one moment!” + </p> + <p> + Her paleness still continued; she gazed on him, and, as he gently squeezed + her hand, a slight pressure was given in return. He then drew her head + over upon his shoulder, where it rather fell than leaned; a gush of tears + came from her eyes, and the next moment, with sobbing hearts, they were + encircled in each other's arms. + </p> + <p> + From this first intoxicating draught of youthful love, they were startled + by the voice of Mrs. O'Brien calling upon her daughter, and, at the same + time, to their utter dismay, they observed the portly dame sailing, in her + usual state, down towards the arbor, with an immense bunch of keys + dangling from her side. + </p> + <p> + “Oonagh, Miss—Miss Oonagh—where are you, Miss, Ma Colleen?—Here's + a litther,” she proceeded, when Una appeared, “from Mrs. Fogarty, your + school-misthress, to your fadher—statin' that she wants you to + finish your Jiggraphy at the dancin', wid a new dancin'—teacher from + <i>Dubling</i>. Why—Eah! what ails you, Miss, Ma Colleen? What the + dickens wor you cryin' for?” + </p> + <p> + “These nasty bees that stung me,” returned the girl. “Oh, for goodness + sake, mother dear, don't come any farther, except you wish to have a whole + hive upon you!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, sure, they wouldn't sting any one that won't meddle wid them,” + replied the mother in a kind of alarm. + </p> + <p> + “The sorra pin they care, mother—don't come near them; I'll be in, + by an' by. Where's my father?” + </p> + <p> + “He's in the house, an' wants you to answer Mrs. Fogarty, statin' feder + you'll take a month's larnin' on the <i>flure</i> or not.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'll see her letter in a minute or two, but you may tell my father + he needn't wait—I won't answer it to-night at all event's.” + </p> + <p> + “You must answer it on the nail,” replied her mother, “becase the + messager's waitin' in the kitchen 'ithin.” + </p> + <p> + “That alters the case altogether,” returned Una, “and I'll follow you + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + The good woman then withdrew, having once more enjoined the daughter to + avoid delay, and not to detain the messenger. + </p> + <p> + “You must go instantly,” she said to Connor. “Oh, what would happen me if + they knew that I lov—that I—” a short pause ensued, and she + blushed deeply. + </p> + <p> + “Say, what you were goin' to say,” returned Connor; “Oh, say that one + word, and all the misfortunes that ever happened to man, can't make me + unhappy! Oh, God! an' is it possible? Say that word—Oh! say it—say + it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she continued, “if they knew that I love the son of + Fardorougha Donovan, what would become of me? Now go, for fear my father + may come out.” + </p> + <p> + “But when will I see you again?” + </p> + <p> + “Go,” said she anxiously; “go, you can easily see me.” + </p> + <p> + “But when?—when? say on Thursday.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so soon—not so soon,” and she cast an anxious eye towards the + garden gate. + </p> + <p> + “When then—say this day week.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well—but go—maybe my father has heard from the servants + that you are here.” + </p> + <p> + “Dusk is the best time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—yes—about dusk; under the alders, in the little green + field behind the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “Show me the wounded finger,” said he with a smile, “before I go.” + </p> + <p> + “There,” said she, extending her hand; “but for Heaven's sake go.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you how to cure it,” said he, tenderly; “honey is the medicine; + put that sweet finger to your own sweeter lip—and, afterwards, I'll + carry home the wound.” + </p> + <p> + “But not the medicine, <i>now</i>,” said she, and, snatching her hand from + his, with light, fearful steps, she fled up the garden and disappeared. + </p> + <p> + Such, gentle reader, were the circumstances which brought our young and + artless lovers together in the black twilight of the singularly awful and + ominous evening which we have already described. + </p> + <p> + Connor, on reaching the appointed spot, sat down; but his impatience soon + overcame him; and, while hurrying to and fro, under the alders, he asked + himself in what was this wild but rapturous attachment to terminate? That + the proud Bodagh, and his prouder wife, would never suffer their beautiful + daughter, the heiress of all their wealth, to marry the son of + Fardorougha, the miser, was an axiom, the truth of which pressed upon his + heart with a deadly weight. On the other hand, would his father, or rather + could he, change his nature so far as to establish him in life, provided + Una and he were united without the consent of her parents? Alas! he knew + his father's parsimony too well; and, on either hand, he was met by + difficulties that appeared to him to be insurmountable. But again came the + delightful and ecstatic consciousness, that, let their parents act as they + might, Una's heart and his were bound to each other by ties which, only to + think of, was rapture. In the midst of these reflections, he heard her + light foot approach, but with a step more slow and melancholy than he + could have expected from the ardor of their love. + </p> + <p> + When she approached, the twilight was just sufficient to enable him to + perceive that her face was pale, and tinged apparently with melancholy, if + not with sorrow. After the first salutations were over, he was proceeding + to inquire into the cause of her depression, when, to his utter surprise, + she placed her hands upon her face, and burst into a fit of grief. + </p> + <p> + Those who have loved need not be told that the most delightful office of + that delightful passion is to dry the tears of the beloved one who is dear + to us beyond all else that life contains. Connor literally performed this + office, and inquired, in a tone so soothing and full of sympathy, why she + wept, that her tears for a while only flowed the faster. At length her + grief abated, and she was able to reply to him. + </p> + <p> + “You ask me why I am raying,” said the fair young creature; “but, indeed, + I cannot tell you. There has been a sinking of the heart upon me during + the greater part of this day. When I thought of our meeting I was + delighted; but again some heaviness would come over me that I can't + account for.” + </p> + <p> + “I know what it is,” replied Connor, “a very simple thing; merely the + terrible calm an' blackness of the evenin'. I was sunk myself a little.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to cry for a better reason,” she returned. “In meeting you I have + done—an' am doing—what I ought to be sorry for—that is, + a wrong action that my conscience condemns.” + </p> + <p> + “There is nobody perfect, my dear Una,” said Connor; “an' none without + their failins; they have little to answer for that have no more than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't flatter me,” she replied; “if you love me as you say, never flatter + me while you live; I will always speak what I feel, and I hope you'll do + the same.” + </p> + <p> + “If I could spake what I feel,” said he, “you would still say I flattered + you—it's not in the power of any words that ever were spoken, to + tell how I love you—how much my heart an' soul's fixed upon you. + Little you know, my own dear Una, how unhappy I am this minute, to see you + in low spirits. What do you think is the occasion of it? Spake now, as you + say you will do, that is, as you feel.” + </p> + <p> + “Except it be that my heart brought me to meet you tonight contrary to my + conscience, I do not know. Connor, Connor, that heart is so strongly in + your favor, that if you were not to be happy neither could its poor + owner.” + </p> + <p> + Connor for a moment looked into the future, but, like the face of the sky + above him, all was either dark or stormy; his heart sank, but the + tenderness expressed in Una's last words filled his whole soul with a + vehement and burning passion, which he felt must regulate his destiny in + life, whether for good or evil. He pulled her to his breast, on which he + placed her head; she looked up fondly to him, and, perceiving that he + wrought under some deep and powerful struggle, said in a low, confiding + voice, whilst the tears once more ran quietly down her cheeks, “Connor, + what I said is true.” + </p> + <p> + “My heart's burnin'—my heart's burnin'!” he exclaimed. “It's not + love I feel for you, Una—it's more than love; oh, what is it—Una, + Una, this I know, that I cannot live long without you, or from you; if I + did, I'd go wild or mad through the world. For the last three years you + have never been out of my mind, I may say awake or asleep; for I believe a + night never passed during that time that I didn't drame of you—of + the beautiful young crature. Oh! God in heaven, can it be thrue that she + loves me at last? Say them blessed words again, Una; oh, say them again! + But I'm too happy—I can hardly bear this delight.” + </p> + <p> + “It is true that I love you, and if our parents could think as we do, + Connor, how easy it would be for them to make us happy, but—” + </p> + <p> + “It's too soon, Una; it's too soon to spake of that. Happy! don't we love + one another? Isn't that happiness? Who or what can deprive us of that? We + are happy without them; we can be happy in spite of them; oh, my own fair + girl! sweet, sweet life of my life, and heart of my heart! Heaven—heaven + itself would be no heaven to me, if you weren't with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't say that, Connor dear; it's wrong. Let us not forget what is due to + religion, if we expect our love to prosper. You may think this strange + from one that has acted contrary to religion in coming to meet you against + the will and knowledge of her parents; but beyond that, dear Connor, I + hope I never will go. But is it true that you've loved me so long?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said he; “the second Sunday in May next was three years, I knelt + opposite you at mass. You were on the left hand side of the altar, I was + on the right; my eyes were never off you; indeed, you may remember it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a good right,” said she, blushing and hiding her face on his + shoulder. “I ought to be ashamed to acknowledge it, an' me so young at the + time; little more than sixteen. From that day to this, my story has been + just your own. Connor, can you tell me how I found it out but I knew you + loved me?” + </p> + <p> + “Many a thing was to tell you that, Una dear. Sure my eyes were never off + you, whenever you wor near me; an' wherever you were, there was I certain + to be too. I never missed any public place if I thought you would be at + it, an' that merely for the sake of seein' you. An', now will you tell me + why it was that I could 'a sworn you lov'd me?” + </p> + <p> + “You have answered for us both,” she replied. “As for me, if I only chance + to hear your name mentioned my heart would beat; if the talk was about you + I could listen to nothing else, and I often felt the color come and go on + my cheek.” + </p> + <p> + “Una, I never thought I could be born to such happiness. Now that I know + that you love me, I can hardly think that it was love I felt for you all + along; it's wonderful—it's wonderful!” + </p> + <p> + “What is so wonderful?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Why, the change that I feel since knowin' that you love me; since I had + it from your own lips, it has overcome me—I'm a child—I'm + anything, anything you choose to make me; it was never love—it's + only since I found you loved me that my heart's burnin' as it is.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make you happyr if I can,” she replied, “and keep you so, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “There's one thing that will make me still happier than I am,” said + Connor. + </p> + <p> + “What is it? If it's proper and right I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “Promise me that if I live you'll never marry any one else than me.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish then to have the promise all on one side,” she replied with a + smile and a blush, each as sweet as ever captivated a human heart. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, my darling Una, <i>acushla gra gal machree</i>, no! I will + promise the same to you.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and a silence of nearly a minute ensued. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know that it's right, Connor; I have taken one wrong step as it + is, but, well as I love you, I won't take another; whatever I do I must + feel that it's proper. I'm not sure that this is.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you say you love me, Una?” + </p> + <p> + “I do; you know I do.” + </p> + <p> + “I have only another question to ask; could you, or would you, love me as + you do, and marry another?” + </p> + <p> + “I could not, Connor, and would not, and will not. I am ready to promise; + I may easily do it; for God knows the very thought of marrying another, or + being deprived of you, is more than I can bear.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” returned her lover, seizing her hand, “I take God to witness + that, whilst you are alive an' faithful to me, I will never marry any + woman but yourself. Now,” he continued, “put your right hand into mine, + and say the same words.” + </p> + <p> + She did so, and was in the act of repeating the form, “I take God to + witness——” when a vivid flash of lightning shot from the + darkness above them, and a peal of thunder almost immediately followed, + with an explosion so loud as nearly to stun both. Una started with terror, + and instinctively withdrew her hand from Connor's. + </p> + <p> + “God preserve us!” she exclaimed; “that's awful. Connor, I feel as if the + act I am goin' to do is not right. Let us put it off at all events, till + another time.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it because there comes an accidental brattle of thunder?” he returned. + “Why, the thunder would come if we were never to change a promise. You + have mine, now, Una dear, an' I'm sure you wouldn't wish me to be bound + an' yourself free. Don't be afraid, darling; give me your hand, an' don't + tremble so; repeat the words at wanst, an' let it be over.” + </p> + <p> + He again took her hand, when she repeated the form in a distinct, though + feeble voice, observing, when it was concluded, + </p> + <p> + “Now, Connor, I did this to satisfy you, but I still feel like one who has + done a wrong action. I am yours now, but I cannot help praying to God that + it may end happily for us both.” + </p> + <p> + “It must, darling Una—it must end happily for us both. How can it be + otherwise? For my part, except to see you my wife, I couldn't be happier + than I am this minute; exceptin' that, my heart has all it wished for. Is + it possible—Oh! is it possible that this is not a dream, my heart's + life? But if it is—if it is—I never more will wish to waken.” + </p> + <p> + Her young lover was deeply affected as he uttered these words, nor was Una + proof against the emotion they produced. + </p> + <p> + “I could pray to God, this moment, with a purer heart than I ever had + before,” he proceeded, “for makin' my lot in life so happy. I feel that I + am better and freer from sin than I ever was yet. If we're faithful and + true to one another, what can the world do to us?” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't be otherwise than faithful to you,” she replied, “without + being unhappy myself; an' I trust it's no sin to love each other as we do. + Now let us——God bless me, what a flash! and here's the rain + beginning. That thunder's dreadful; Heaven preserve us! It's an awful + night! Connor, you must see me as far as the corner of the garden; as for + you, I wish you were safe at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Hasten, dear,” said he, “hasten; it's no night for you to be out in, now + that the rain's coming. As for me, if it was ten times as dreadful I won't + feel it. There's but one thought—one thought in my mind, and that I + wouldn't part with for the wealth of the universe.” + </p> + <p> + Both then proceeded at a quick puce until they reached the corner of + Bodagh's garden, where, with brief but earnest reassurances of unalterable + attachment, they took a tender and affectionate farewell. + </p> + <p> + It is not often that the higher ranks can appreciate the moral beauty of + love as it is experienced by those humbler classes to whom they deny the + power of feeling in its most refined and exalted character. For our parts + we differ so much from them in this, that, if we wanted to give an + illustration of that passion in its purest and most delicate state, we + would not seek for it in the saloon or the drawing—room, but among + the green fields and the smiling landscapes of rural life. The simplicity + of humble hearts is more accordant with the unity of affection than any + mind can be that is distracted by the competition of rival claims upon its + gratification. We do not say that the votaries of rank and fashion are + insensible to love; because, how much soever they may be conversant with + the artificial and unreal, still they are human, and must, to a certain + extent, be influenced by a principle that acts wherever it can find a + heart on which to operate. We say, however, that their love, when + contrasted with that which is felt by the humble peasantry, is languid and + sickly; neither so pure, nor so simple, nor so intense. Its associations + in high life are unfavorable to the growth of a healthy passion; for what + is the glare of a lamp, a twirl through the insipid maze of the ball-room, + or the unnatural distortions of the theatre, when compared to the rising + of the summer sun, the singing of birds, the music of the streams, the + joyous aspect of the varied landscape, the mountain, the valley, the lake, + and a thousand other objects, each of which transmits to the peasant's + heart silently and imperceptibly that subtle power which at once + strengthens and purifies the passion? There is scarcely such a thing as + solitude in the upper ranks, nor an opportunity of keeping the feelings + unwasted, and the energies of the heart unspent by the many vanities and + petty pleasures with which fashion forces a compliance, until the mind + falls from its natural dignity, into a habit of coldness and aversion to + everything but the circle of empty trifles in which it moves so giddily. + But the enamored youth who can retire to the beautiful solitude of the + still glen to brood over the image of her he loves, and who, probably, + sits under the very tree where his love was avowed and returned; he, we + say, exalted with the fulness of his happiness, feels his heart go abroad + in gladness upon the delighted objects that surround him, for everything + that he looks upon is as a friend; his happy heart expands over the whole + landscape; his eye glances to the sky; he thinks of the Almighty Being + above him, and though without any capacity to analyze his own feelings—love—the + love of some humble, plain but modest girl—kindles by degrees into + the sanctity and rapture of religion. + </p> + <p> + Let not our readers of rank, then, if any such may honor our pages with a + perusal, be at all surprised at the expression of Connor O'Donovan when, + under the ecstatic power of a love so pure and artless as that which bound + his heart and Una's together, he exclaimed, as he did, “Oh! I could pray + to God this moment with a purer heart than I ever had before!” Such a + state of feeling among the people is neither rare nor anomalous; for, + however, the great ones and the wise ones of the world may be startled at + our assertion, we beg to assure them that love and religion are more + nearly related to each other than those, who have never felt either in its + truth and purity, can imagine. + </p> + <p> + As Connor performed his journey home, the thunder tempest passed fearfully + through the sky; and, though the darkness was deep and unbroken by + anything but the red flashes of lightning, yet, so strongly absorbed was + his heart by the scene we have just related, that he arrived at his + father's house scarcely conscious of the roar of elements which surrounded + him. + </p> + <p> + The family had retired to bed when he entered, with the exception of his + parents, who, having felt uneasy at his disappearance, were anxiously + awaiting his return, and entering into fruitless conjectures concerning + the cause of an absence so unusual. + </p> + <p> + “What,” said the alarmed mother, “what in the wide world could keep him so + long out, and on sich a tempest as is in it? God protect my boy from all + harm an' danger, this fearful night! Oh, Fardorougha, what 'ud become of + us if anything happened him? As for me—my heart's wrapped up in him; + wid—out our darlin' it 'ud break, break, Fardorougha.” + </p> + <p> + “Hut; he's gone to some neighbor's an' can't come out till the storm is + over; he'll soon be here now that the thunder an' lightnin's past.” + </p> + <p> + “But did you never think, Fardorougha, what 'ud become of you, or what + you'd do or how you'd live, if anything happened him? which the Almighty + forbid this night and forever! Could you live widout him?” + </p> + <p> + The old man gazed upon her like one who felt displeasure at having a + contingency so painful forced upon his consideration. Without making any + reply, however, he looked thoughtfully into the fire for some time, after + which he rose up, and, with a querulous and impatient voice, said, + </p> + <p> + “What's the use of thinkin' about sich things? Lose him! why would I lose + him? I couldn't lose him—I'd as soon lose my own life—I'd + rather be dead at wanst than lose him.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows your love for him is a quare love, Fardorougha,” rejoined the + wife; “you wouldn't give him a guinea if it 'ud save his life, or allow + him even a few shillings now an' then, for pocket-money, that he might be + aquil to other young boys like him.” + </p> + <p> + “No use, no use in that, except to bring him into drink an' other bad + habits; a bad way, Honora, of showin' one's love for him. If you had your + will you'd spoil him; I'm keepin' whatsomever little shillin's we've + scraped together to settle him dacently in life; but, indeed, that's time + enough yet; he's too young to marry for some years to come, barrin' he got + a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, one thing, Fardorougha, if ever two people were blessed in a good + son, praise be God we are that!” + </p> + <p> + “We are, Honor, we are; there's not his aquil in the parish—<i>achora + machree</i> that he is. When I'm gone he'll know what I've done for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Whin you're gone; why, Saver of arth, sure you wouldn't keep him out of + his—— husth!——here he is, God be thanked! poor boy + he's safe. Oh, thin, <i>vich no Hoiah</i>, Connor jewel, were you out + undher this terrible night?” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, <i>avich machree</i>,” added the father, “you're lost! My hand to + you, if he's worth three hapuns; sthrip an' throw my Cothamore about you, + an' draw in to the fire; you're fairly lost.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm worth two lost people yet,” said Connor, smiling; “mother, did you + ever see a pleasanter night?” + </p> + <p> + “Pleasant, Connor, darlin'! Oh thin it's you may say so, I'm sure!” + </p> + <p> + “Father, you're a worthy—only your Cothamore's too scimpt for me. + Faith, mother, although you think I'm jokin', the devil a one o' me is; a + pleasanter night—a happier night I never spent. Father, you ought to + be proud o' me, an' stretch out a bit with the cash; faith, I'm nothin' + else than a fine handsome young fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Be me soul an' he ought to be proud out of you, Connor, whether you're in + arnest or not,” observed the mother, “an' to stretch out wid the <i>arrighad</i> + too if you want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Folly on, Connor, folly on! your mother'll back you, I'll go bail, say + what you will; but sure you know all I have must be yours yet, acushla.” + </p> + <p> + Connor now sat down, and his mother stirred up the fire, on which she + placed additional fuel. After a little time his manner changed, and a + shade of deep gloom fell upon his manly and handsome features. “I don't + know,” he at length proceeded, “that, as we three are here together, I + could do betther than ask your advice upon what has happened to me + to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what has happened you, Connor?” said the mother alarmed; “plase God, + no harm, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Who else,” added the father, “would you be guided by, if not by your + mother an' myself?” + </p> + <p> + “No harm, mother, dear,” said Connor in reply to her; “harm! Oh! mother, + mother, if you knew it; an' as for what you say, father, it's right; what + advice but my mother's an' yours ought I to ask?” + </p> + <p> + “An' God's too,” added the mother. + </p> + <p> + “An' my heart was nevir more <i>ris</i> to God than it was', an' is this + night,” replied their ingenuous boy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what has happened, Connor?” said his father; “if it's anything + where our advice can serve you, of coorse we'll advise you for the best.” + </p> + <p> + Connor then, with a glowing heart, made them acquainted with the affection + which subsisted between himself and Una O'Brien, and ended by informing + them of the vow of marriage which they had that night solemnly pledged to + each other. + </p> + <p> + “You both know her by sight,” he added, “an' afther what I've sed, can you + blame me for sayin' that I found this a pleasant and a happy night?” + </p> + <p> + The affectionate mother's eyes filled with tears of pride and delight, on + hearing that her handsome son was loved by the beautiful daughter of + Bodagh Buie, and she could not help exclaiming, in the enthusiasm of the + moment, + </p> + <p> + “She's a purty girl—the purtiest indeed I ever laid my two livin' + eyes upon, and by all accounts as good as she's purty; but I say that, + face to face, you're as good, ay, an' as handsome, Fardorougha, as she is. + God bless her, any way, an' mark her to grace and happiness, <i>ma colleen + dhas dhun</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “He's no match for her,” said the father, who had listened with an earnest + face, and compressed lips, to his son's narrative; “he's no match for her—by + four hundred guineas.” + </p> + <p> + Honora, when he uttered the previous part of his observation, looked upon + him with a flash of indignant astonishment; but when he had concluded, her + countenance fell back into its original expression. It was evident that, + while she, with the feelings of a woman and a mother, instituted a + parallel between their personal merits alone, the husband viewed their + attachment through that calculating spirit which had regulated his whole + life. + </p> + <p> + “You're thinkin' of her money now,” she added; “but remimber, Fardorougha, + that it wasn't born wid her. An' I hope, Connor, it's not for her money + that you have any grah for her?” + </p> + <p> + “You may swear that, mother; I love her little finger betther than all the + money in the king's bank.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, avich, your mother has made a fool of you, or you wouldn't spake + the nonsense you spoke this minute.” + </p> + <p> + “My word to you, father, I'll take all the money I'll get; but what am I + to do? Bodagh Buie an' his wife will never consent to allow her to marry + me, I can tell you; an' if she marries me without their consent, you both + know I have no way of supportin' her, except you, father, assist me.” + </p> + <p> + “That won't be needful, Connor; you may manage them; they won't see her + want; she's an only daughter; they couldn't see her want.” + </p> + <p> + “An' isn't he an only son, Fardorougha?” exclaimed the wife. “An' my sowl + to happiness but I believe you'd see him want.” + </p> + <p> + “Any way,” replied her husband, “I'm not for matches against the consint + of parents; they're not lucky; or can't you run away wid her, an' thin + refuse marryin' her except they come down wid the cash?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, father!” exclaimed Connor, “father, father, to become a villain!” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said his mother, rising up in a spirit of calm and mournful + solemnity, “never heed; go to bed, achora, go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “Of coorse I'll never heed, mother,” he replied; “but I can't help sayin' + that, happy as I was awhile agone, my father is sendin' me to bed with a + heavy heart. When I asked your advice, father, little I thought it would + be to do—but no matter; I'll never be guilty of an act that 'ud + disgrace my name.” + </p> + <p> + “No, avillish,” said his mother, “you never will; God knows it's as much + an' more than you an' other people can do, to keep the name we have in + decency.” + </p> + <p> + “It's fine talk,” observed Fardorougha, “but what I advise has been done + by hundreds that wor married an' happy afterwards; how—an—iver + you needn't get into a passion, either of you; I'm not pressin' you,' + Connor, to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, achree,” said his mother, “go to bed, an' instead of the advice + you got, ax God's; go, avillish!” + </p> + <p> + Connor, without making any further observation, sought his sleeping-room, + where, having recommended himself to God, in earnest prayer, he lay + revolving all that had occurred that night, until the gentle influence of + sleep at length drew him into oblivion. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said his mother to Fardorougha, when Connor had gone, “you must + sleep by yourself; for, as for me, my side I'll not stretch on the same + bed wid you to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, I can't help that,” said her husband; “all I can say is this, + that I'm not able to put sinse or prudence into you or Connor; so, since + you won't be guided by me, take your own coorse. Bodagh Buie's very well + able to provide for them—; an' if he won't do so before they marry, + why let Connor have nothing to say to her.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what, Fardorougha, God wouldn't be in heaven, or you'll get + a cut heart yet, either through your son or your money; an' that it may + not be through my darlin' boy, O, grant, sweet Saver o' the earth, this + night! I'm goin' to sleep wid Biddy Casey, an' you'll find a clane + nightcap on the rail o' the bed; an', Fardorougha, afore you put it an, + kneel down an' pray to God to change your heart—for it wants it—it + wants it.” + </p> + <p> + In Ireland the first object of a servant man, after entering the + employment of his master, is to put himself upon an amicable footing with + his fellow-servants of the other sex. Such a step, besides being natural + in itself, is often taken in consequence of the <i>esprit du corps</i> + which prevails among persons of that class. Bartle Flanagan, although he + could not be said to act from any habit previously acquired in service, + went to work with all the tact and adroitness of a veteran. The next + morning, after having left the barn where he slept, he contrived to throw + himself in the way of Biddy Duggan, a girl, who, though vain and simple, + was at the same time conscientious and honest. On passing from the barn to + the kitchen, he noticed her returning from the well with a pitcher of + water in each hand, and as it is considered an act of civil attention for + the male servant, if not otherwise employed, to assist the female in + small, matters of the kind, so did Flanagan, in his best manner and + kindest voice, bid her good-morning and offer to carry home the pitcher. + </p> + <p> + “It's the least I may do,” said he, “now that I'm your fellow-servant; but + before you go farther, lay down your burden, an' let us chat awhile.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed,” replied Biddy, “it's little we expected ever to see your + father's son goin' to earn his bread undher another man's roof.” + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! Biddy! there's greater wondhers in the world than that, woman + alive! But tell me—pooh—ay, is there a thousand quarer things—but + I say, Biddy, how do you like to—live wid this family?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, troth indeed, only for the withered ould leprechaun himself, divil a + dacenter people ever broke bread.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet, isn't it a wondher that the ould fellow is what he is, an' he so + full o' money?” + </p> + <p> + “Troth, there's one thing myself wondhers at more than that.” + </p> + <p> + “What, Biddy? let us hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that you could be mane an' shabby! enough to come as a sarvint to + ate the bread of the man that ruined yees!” + </p> + <p> + “Biddy,” replied Flanagan, “I'm glad! you've said it; but do you think + that I have so bad a heart as too keep revinge in against an inimy? How + could I go to my knees at night, if I—no, Biddy, we must be + Christians. Well! let us drop that; so you tell me this mother an' son are + kind to you.” + </p> + <p> + “As good-hearted a pair as ever lived.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, of course, can't but be very kind to so good-looking a girl as + you are, Biddy,” said Bartle, with a knowing smile. + </p> + <p> + “Very kind! good-looking! ay, indeed, I'm sure o' that, Bartle; behave! + an' don't be gettin' an wid any o' your palavers. What 'ud make Connor be + kind to the likes of me, that way?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why you oughtn't an' mightn't—you're as good as him, if + it goes to that.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yis, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you know you'r handsome.” + </p> + <p> + “Handsome,” replied the vain girl, tightening her apron-strings, and + assuming a sly, coquettish look; “Bartle, go 'an mind your business, and + let me bring home my pitchers; it's time the breakwist was down. Sich + nonsense!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, you're not, thin; you've a bad leg, a bad figure, an' a bad + face, an' it would be a terrible thing all out for Connor O'Donovan to + fall in consate wid you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, about Connor I could tell you something;—me! tut! go to the + sarra;—faix, you don't know them that Connor's afther, nor the + collogin' they all had about it no longer ago than last night itself. I + suppose they thought I was asleep, but it was like the hares, wid my eyes + open.” + </p> + <p> + “An' it's a pity, Biddy, ever the same two eyes should be shut. Begad, + myself is beginning to feel quare somehow, when I look at them.” + </p> + <p> + A glance of pretended incredulity was given in return, after which she + proceeded— + </p> + <p> + “Bartle, don't be bringin' yourself to the fair wid sich folly. My eyes is + jist as God made them; but I can tell you that before a month o' Sundays + passes, I wouldn't be surprised if you seen Connor married to—you + wouldn't guess!” + </p> + <p> + “Not I; divil a hap'orth I know about who he's courtin'.” + </p> + <p> + “No less than our great beauty, Bodagh Buie's daughter, Una O'Brien. Now, + Bartle, for goodness sake, don't let this cross your lips to a livin' + mortal. Sure I heard him tellin' all to the father and mother last night—they're + promised to one another. Eh! blessed saints, Bartle, what ails you? you're + as white as a sheet. What's wrong? and what did you start for?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin',” replied Flanagan, coolly, “but a stitch in my side. I'm subject + to that—it pains me very much while it lasts, and laves me face, as + you say, the color of dimity; but about Connor, upon my throth, I'm main + proud to hear it; she's a purty girl, an' besides he'll have a fortune + that'll make a man of him. I am, in throth, heart proud to hear it. It's a + pity Connor's father isn't as dacent as himself. Arrah, Biddy, where does + the ould codger keep his money?” + </p> + <p> + “Little of it in the house any way—sure, whenever he scrapes a + guinea together he's away wid it to the county —— county + —— och, that countryman that keeps the money for the people.” + </p> + <p> + “The treasurer; well, much good may his thrash do him, Biddy, that's the + worst I wish him. Come now and I'll lave your pitchers at home, and + remember you owe me something for this.” + </p> + <p> + “Good will, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “That for one thing,” he replied, as they went along; “but we'll talk more + about it when we have time; and I'll thin tell you the truth about what + brought me to hire wid Fardorougha Donovan.” + </p> + <p> + Having thus excited that most active principle called female curiosity, + both entered the kitchen, where they found Connor and his mother in close + and apparently confidential conversation—Fardorougha himself having + as usual been abroad upon his farm for upwards of an hour before any of + them had risen. + </p> + <p> + The feelings with which they met that morning at breakfast may be easily + understood by our readers without much assistance of ours. On the part of + Fardorougha there was a narrow, selfish sense of exultation, if not + triumph, at the chance that lay before his son of being able to settle + himself independently in life, without the necessity of making any demand + upon the hundreds which lay so safely in the keeping of the County + Treasurer. His sordid soul was too deeply imbued with the love of money to + perceive that what he had hitherto looked upon as a proof of parental + affection and foresight, was nothing more than a fallacy by which he was + led day after day farther into his prevailing vice. In other words, now + that love for his son, and the hope of seeing him occupy a respectable + station in society, ought to have justified the reasoning by which he had + suffered himself to be guided, it was apparent that the prudence which he + had still considered to be his duty as a kind parent, was nothing else + than a mask for his own avarice. The idea, therefore, of seeing Connor + settled without any aid from himself, filled his whole soul with a wild, + hard satisfaction, which gave him as much delight as perhaps he was + capable of enjoying. The advice offered to his son on the preceding night + appeared to him a matter so reasonable in itself, and the opportunity + offered by Una's attachment so well adapted for making it an instrument to + work upon the affections of her parents, that he could not for the life of + him perceive why they should entertain any rational objection against it. + </p> + <p> + The warm-hearted mother participated so largely in all that affected the + happiness of her son, that, if we allow for the difference of sex and + position, we might describe their feelings as bearing, in the character of + their simple and vivid enjoyment, a very remarkable resemblance. This + amiable woman's affection for Connor was reflected upon Una O'Brien, whom + she now most tenderly loved, not because the fair girl was beautiful, but + because she had plighted her troth to that Son who had been during his + whole life her own solace and delight. + </p> + <p> + No sooner was the morning meal concluded, and the servants engaged at + their respective employments, than Honor, acting probably under Connor's + suggestion, resolved at once to ascertain whether her husband could so far + overcome his parsimony as to establish their son and Una in life; that is, + in the event of Una's parents opposing their marriage, and declining to + render them any assistance. With this object in view, she told him, as he + was throwing his great-coat over his shoulders, in order to proceed to the + fields, that she wished to speak to him upon a matter of deep importance. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” said Fardorougha, with a hesitating shrug, “what is it? This + is ever an' always the way when you want <i>money</i>; but I tell you I + have no money. You wor born to waste and extravagance, Honor, an' there's + no curin' you. What is it you want? an' let me go about my business.” + </p> + <p> + “Throw that ould threadbare Cothamore off o' you,” replied Honor, “and beg + of God to give you grace to sit down, an' have common feeling and common + sense.” + </p> + <p> + “If it's money to get cloes either for yourself or Connor, there's no use + in it. I needn't sit; you don't want a stitch, either of you.” + </p> + <p> + Honor, without more ado, seized the coat, and, flinging it aside, pushed + him over to a seat on which she forced him to sit down. + </p> + <p> + “As heaven's above me,” she exclaimed, “I dunna what come over you at all, + at all. Your money, your thrash, your dirt an' filth, ever, ever, an' for + evermore in your thought, heart and sowl. Oh, Chierna! to think of it, an' + you know there is a God above you, an' that you must meet Him, an' that + widout your money too!” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, the money's what you want to come at; but I'll not sit here to be + hecthor'd. What is it, I say again, you want?” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha ahagur,” continued the wife, checking herself, and addressing + him in a kind and affectionate voice, “maybe I was spakin' too harsh to + you, but sure it was an' is for your own good. How an' ever, I'll thry + kindness, and if you have a heart at all, you can't but show it when you + hear what I'm goin' to say.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, go an,” replied the pertinacious husband; “but—money—ay, + ay, is there. I feel, by the way you're comin' about me, that there is + money at the bottom of it.” + </p> + <p> + The wife raised her hands and eyes to heaven, shook her head, and after a + slight pause, in which she appeared to consider her appeal a hopeless one, + she at length went on in an earnest but subdued and desponding spirit— + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, the time's now come that will show the world whether you + love Connor or not.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care a pin about the world; you an' Connor know well enough that + I love him.” + </p> + <p> + “Love for one's child doesn't come out merely in words, Fardorougha; + actin' for their benefit shows it better than spakin'. Don't you grant + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, may be I do, and again may be I don't; there's times when the + one's better than the other; but go an; may be I do grant it.” + </p> + <p> + “Now tell me where in this parish, ay, or in the next five parishes to it, + you'd find sich a boy for a father or mother to be proud out of, as + Connor, your own darlin' as you often cau him?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a one, Honor; <i>damnho</i> to the one; I won't differ wid you in + that.” + </p> + <p> + “You won't differ wid me! the divil thank you for that. You won't indeed! + but could you, I say, if you wor willin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I could <i>not</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “Now there's sinse an' kindness in that. Very well, you say you're + gatherin' up all the money you can for him.” + </p> + <p> + “For him—him,” exclaimed the unconscious miser, “why, what do you + mane—for—well—ay—yes, yes, I did say for him; it's + for him I'm keeping it—it is, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Fardorougha, you know he's ould enough to be settled in life on his + own account, an' you heard last night the girl he can get, if you stand to + him, as he ought to expect from a father that loves him.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, last night, thin, didn't I give my—” + </p> + <p> + “Whist, ahagur! hould your tongue awhile, and let me go on. Thruth's best—he + dotes on that girl to such a degree, that if he doesn't get her, he'll + never see another happy day while he's alive.” + </p> + <p> + “All <i>feasthalagh</i>, Honor—that won't pass wid me; I know + otherwise myself. Do you think that if I hadn't got you, I'd been unhappy + four-an'-twenty hours, let alone my whole life? I tell you that's <i>feasthalagh</i>, + an' won't pass. He wouldn't eat an ounce the less if he was never to get + her. You seen the breakfast he made this mornin'; I didn't begrudge it to + him, but may I never stir if that Flanagan wouldn't ate a horse behind the + saddle; he has a stomach that'd require a king's ransom to keep it.” + </p> + <p> + “You know nothing of what I'm spakin' about,” replied his wife. “I wasn't + <i>Una dhas dhun</i> O'Brien in my best days; an' be the vestment, you + warn't Connor, that has more feelin', an' spirit, an' generosity in the + nail of his little finger than ever you had in your whole carcass. I tell + you if he doesn't get married to that girl he'll break his heart. Now how + can he marry her except you take a good farm for him, and stock it + dacently, so that he may have a home sich as she desarves to bring her + to?” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know but they'll give her a fortune when they find her bent on + him?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's not unpossible,” said the wife, immediately changing her + tactics, “it's not impossible, but I can tell you it's very unlikely.” + </p> + <p> + “The best way, then, in my opinion, 'ud be to spake to Connor about + breaking it to the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that's fair enough,” said the wife. “I wondher myself I didn't think + of it, but the time was so short since last night.” + </p> + <p> + “It is short,” replied the miser, “far an' away too short to expect any + one to make up their mind about it. Let them not be rash themselves + aither, for I tell you that when people marry in haste, they're apt to + have time enough to repint at laysure.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but Fardorougha acushla, now hear me, throth it's thruth and sinse + what you say; but still, avourneen, listen; now set in case that the + Bodagh and his wife don't consint to their marriage, or to do anything for + them, won't you take them a farm and stock it bravely? Think of poor + Connor, the darlin' fine fellow that he is. Oh, thin, Saver above, but + it's he id go to the well o' the world's end to ase you, if your little + finger only ached. He would, or for myself, and yet his own father to + trate him wid sich—” + </p> + <p> + It was in vain she attempted to proceed; the subject was one in which her + heart felt too deep an interest to be discussed without tears. A brief + silence ensued, during which Fardorougha moved uneasily on his seat, took + the tongs, and mechanically mended the fire, and, peering at his wife with + a countenance twitched as if by <i>tic douloureux</i>, stared round the + house with a kind of stupid wonder, rose up, then sat instantly down, and + in fact exhibited many of those unintelligible and uncouth movements, + which, in person of his cast, may be properly termed the hieroglyphics of + human action, under feelings that cannot be deciphered either by those on + whom they operate, or by those who witness them. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said he, “Connor is all you say, an' more—an' more—an'—an'—a + rash act is the worst thing he could do. It's betther, Honor, to spake to + him as I sed, about lettin' the matther be known to Una's family out of + hand.” + </p> + <p> + “And thin, if they refuse, you can show them a ginerous example, by + puttin' them into a dacent farm. Will you promise me that, Fardorougha? If + you do, all's right, for they're not livin' that ever knew you to braak + your word or your promise.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make no promise, Honor; I'll make no promise; but let the other plan + be tried first. Now don't be pressin' me; he is a noble boy, and would, as + you say, thravel round the earth to keep my little finger from pain; but + let me alone about it now—let me alone about it.” + </p> + <p> + This, though slight encouragement, was still, in Honor's opinion, quite as + much as, if not more, than she expected. Without pressing him, therefore, + too strongly at that moment, she contented herself with a full-length + portrait of their son, drawn with all the skill of a mother who knew, if + her husband's heart could be touched at all, those points at which she + stood the greatest chance of finding it accessible. + </p> + <p> + For a few days after this the subject of Connor's love was permitted to + lie undebated, in the earnest hope that Fardorougha's heart might have + caught some slight spark of natural affection from the conversation which + had taken place between him and Honor. They waited, consequently, with + patience for some manifestation on his part of a better feeling, and + flattered themselves that his silence proceeded from the struggle which + they knew a man of his disposition must necessarily feel in working up his + mind to any act requiring him to part with that which he loved better than + life, his money. The ardent temperament of Connor, however, could ill + brook the pulseless indifference of the old man; with much difficulty, + therefore, was he induced to wait a whole week for the issue, though + sustained by the mother's assurance, that, in consequence of the + impression left on her by their last conversation, she was certain the + father, if not urged beyond his wish, would declare himself willing to + provide for them. A week, however, elapsed, and Fardorougha moved on in + the same hard and insensible spirit which was usual to him, wholly + engrossed by money, and never, either directly or indirectly, appearing to + remember that the happiness and welfare of his son were at stake, or + depending upon the determination to which he might come. + </p> + <p> + Another half week passed, during which Connor had made two unsuccessful + attempts to see Una, in order that some fixed plan of intercourse might be + established between them, at least until his father's ultimate resolution + on the subject proposed to him should be known. He now felt deeply + distressed, and regretted that the ardor of his attachment had so far + borne him away during their last meeting, that he had forgotten to concert + measures with Una for their future interviews. + </p> + <p> + He had often watched about her father's premises from a little before + twilight until the whole family had gone to bed, yet without any chance + either of conversing with her, or of letting her know that he was in the + neighborhood. He had gone to chapel, too, with the hope of seeing her, or + snatching a hasty opportunity of exchanging a word or two, if possible; + but to his astonishment she had not attended mass—an omission of + duty of which she had not been guilty for the last three years. What, + therefore, was to be done? For him to be detected lurking about the + Bodagh's house might create suspicion, especially after their interview in + the garden, which very probably had, through the officiousness of the + servants, been communicated to her parents. In a matter of such difficulty + he bethought him of a confidant, and the person to whom the necessity of + the ease directed him was Bartle Flanagan. Bartle, indeed, ever since he + entered into his father's service, had gained rapidly upon Connor's good + will, and on one or two occasions well-nigh succeeded in drawing from him + a history of the mutual attachment which subsisted between him and Una. + His good humor, easy language, and apparent friendship for young + O'Donovan, together with his natural readiness of address, or, if you + will, of manner, all marked him out as admirably qualified to act as a + confidant in a matter which required the very tact and talent he + possessed. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” thought Connor to himself, “it will make him feel more like + one of the family than a servant. If he can think that he's trated as my + friend and companion, he may forget that he's ating the bread of the very + man that drove him an' his to destruction. Ay, an' if we're married, I'm + not sure but I'll have him to give me away too.” + </p> + <p> + This resolution of permitting Flanagan to share his confidence had been + come to by Connor upon the day subsequent to that on which he had last + tried to see Una. After his return home, disappointment on one hand, and + his anxiety concerning his father's liberality on the other, together with + the delight arising from the certainty of being beloved, all kept his mind + in a tumult, and permitted him to sleep but little. The next day he + decided on admitting Bartle to his confidence, and reposing this solemn + trust to his integrity. He was lying on his back in the meadow—for + they had been ricking the hay from the lapcocks—when that delicious + languor which arises from the three greatest provocatives to slumber, want + of rest, fatigue, and heat, so utterly overcame him, that, forgetting his + love, and all the anxiety arising from it, he fell into a dreamless and + profound sleep. + </p> + <p> + From this state he was aroused after about an hour by the pressure of + something sharp and painful against his side, near the region of the + heart, and on looking up, he discovered Bartle Flanagan standing over him + with pitchfork in his hand, one end of which was pressed against his + breast, as if he had been in the act of driving it forward into his body. + His face was pale, his dark brows frightfully contracted, and his teeth + apparently set together, as if working over some fearful determination. + When Connor awoke, Flanagan broke out into a laugh that no language could + describe. The character of mirth which he wished to throw into his face, + jarred so terrifically with his demoniacal expression when first seen by + Connor, that, even unsuspecting as he was, he started up with alarm, and + asked Flanagan what was the matter. Flanagan, however, laughed on—peal + after peal succeeded—he tossed the pitchfork aside, and, clapping + both his hands upon his face, continued the paroxysms until he recovered + his composure. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said he, “I'm sick, I'm as wake as a child wid laughin'; but, Lord + bless us, after all, Connor, what is a man's life worth whin he has an + enemy near him? There was I, ticklin' you wid the pitchfork, strivin' to + waken you, and one inch of it would have baked your bread for life. Didn't + you feel me, Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a bit, till the minute before I ris.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the divil a purtier jig you ever danced in your life; wait till I + show you how your left toe wint.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly lay down and illustrated the pretended action, after which + he burst out into another uncontrollable fit of mirth. + </p> + <p> + “'Twas just for all the world,” said he, “as if I had tied a string to + your toe, for you groaned an' grunted, an' went on like I dunna what; but, + Connor, what makes you so sleepy to-day as well as on Monday last?” + </p> + <p> + “That's the very thing,” replied the unsuspicious and candid young man, + “that I wanted to spake to you about.” + </p> + <p> + “What! about sleepin' in the meadows?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a bit o' that, Bartle, not a morsel of sleepin' in the meadows is + consarned in what I'm goin' to mintion to you. Bartle, didn't you tell me, + the day you hired wid my father, that you wor in love?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, Connor, I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so am I; but do you know who I'm in love with?” + </p> + <p> + “How the divil, man, could I?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, no swerin', Bartle; keep the commandments, my boy. I'll tell you in + the mane time, an' that's more than you did me, you + close-mouth-is-a-sign-of-a-wise-head spalpeen!” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear tell of one <i>Colleen dhas dhun</i> as she's called, + known by the name Una or Oona O'Brien, daughter to one Bodagh Buie + O'Brien, the richest man, barin' a born gentleman, in the three parishes?” + </p> + <p> + “All very fair, Connor, for you or any one else to be in love wid her—ay, + man alive, for myself, if it goes to that—but, but, Connor, + avouchal, are you sure that sure you'll bring her to be in love wid you?” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Connor, seriously and after a sudden change in his whole + manner, “in this business I'm goin' to trate you as a friend, and a + brother. She loves me, Bartle, and a solemn promise of marriage has passed + between us.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said Bartle, “it's wondherful, it's wondherful! you couldn't + believe what a fool I am—fool! no, but a faint-hearted, cowardly + villain.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mane, Bartle? what the dickens are you drivin' at!” + </p> + <p> + “Driven at! whenever I happen to have an opportunity of makin' a drive + that id—but! I'm talkin' balderdash. Do you see here, Connor,” said + he, putting his hand to his neck, “do you see here?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do. Well, what about there?” + </p> + <p> + “Be my sowl, I'm very careful of—but!—sure I may as well tell + you the whole truth—I sed I was in love; well, man, that was thrue, + an',” he added in a low, pithy whisper, “I was near—no, Connor, I + won't but go an; it's enough for you to know that I was an' am in love, + an' that it'll go hard wid me if ever any one else is married to the girl + I'm in love wid. Now that my business is past, let me hear yours, poor + fellow, an' I'm devilish glad to know, Connor, that—that—why, + tunder an' ouns, that you're not as I am. Be the crass that saved us, + Connor, I'm glad of that!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, love will set you mad, Bartle, if you don't take care of yourself; + an', faith, I dunna but it may do the same with myself, if I'm + disappointed. However, the truth is, you must sarve me in this business. I + struv to see her twiste, but couldn't, an' I'm afraid of bein' seen spyin' + about their place.” + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, Connor, you want to make me a go-between—a blackfoot; + very well, I'll do that same on your account, an' do it well, too, I + hope.” + </p> + <p> + It was then arranged that Flanagan, who was personally known to some of + the Bodagli's servants, should avail himself of that circumstance, and + contrive to gain an interview with Una, in order to convey her a letter + from O'Donovan. He was further enjoined by no means to commit it to the + hands of any person save those of Una herself, and, in the event of his + not being able to see her, then the letter was to be returned to Connor. + If he succeeded, however, in delivering it, he was to await an answer, + provided she found an opportunity of sending one; if not, she was to + inform Connor, through Flanagan, at what time and place he could see her. + This arrangement having been made, Connor immediately wrote the letter, + and, after having despatched Flanagan upon his errand, set himself to + perform, by his individual labor, the task which his father had portioned + out for both. Ere Bartle's return, Fardorougha came to inspect their + progress in the meadow, and, on finding that the servant was absent, he + inquired sharply into the cause of it. + </p> + <p> + “He's gone on a message for me,” replied Connor, with the utmost + frankness. + </p> + <p> + “But that's a bad way for him to mind his business,” said the father. + </p> + <p> + “I'll have the task that you set both of us finished,” replied the son, + “so that you'll lose nothin' by his absence, at all events.” + </p> + <p> + “It's wrong, Connor, it's wrong; where did you sind him to?” + </p> + <p> + “To Bodagh Buie's wid a letter to Una.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a waste of time, an' a loss of work; about that business I have + something to say to your mother an' you to—night, afther the supper, + when the rest goes to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, father,you'll do the dacent thing still.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I hope, son, you'll do the wise thing still; how—an—ever + let me alone now; if you expect me to do anything, you mustn't drive me as + your mother does. To-night we'll make up a plan that'll outdo Bodagh Buie. + Before you come home, Connor, throw a stone or two in that gap, to prevent + the cows from gettin' into the hay; it won't cost you much throuble. But, + Connor, did you ever see sich a gut as Bartle has? He'll brake me out + o'house an' home feedin' him; he has a stomach for ten-penny-nails; be my + word it 'ud be a charity to give him a dose of oak bark to make him + dacent; he's a divil at aitin', an' little good may it do him!” + </p> + <p> + The hour of supper arrived without Bartle's returning, and Connor's + impatience began to overcome him, when Fardorougha, for the first time, + introduced the subject which lay nearest his son's heart. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” he began, “I've been thinkin' of this affair with Una O'Brien; + an' in my opinion there's but one way out of it; but if you're a fool an' + stand in your own light, it's not my fault.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the way, father?” inquired Connor. + </p> + <p> + “The very same I tould your mother an' you before—run away wid her—I + mane make a runaway match of it—then refuse to marry her unless they + come down wid the money. You know afther runnin' away wid you nobody else + ever would marry her; so that rather than see their child disgraced, never + fear but they'll pay down on the nail, or maybe bring you both to live wid + 'em.” + </p> + <p> + “My sowl to glory, Fardorougha,” said the wife, “but you're a bigger an' + cunninner ould rogue than I ever took you for! By the scapular upon me, if + I had known how you'd turn out, the sorra carry the ring ever you'd put on + my finger!” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Connor, “I must be disobedient to you in this at all + events. It's plain you'll do nothing for us; so there's no use in sayin' + anything more about it. I have no manes of supportin' her, an' I swear + I'll never bring her to poverty. If I had money to carry me, I'd go to + America an' thry my fortune there; but I have not. Father, it's too hard + that you should stand in my way when you could so easily make me happy. + Who have you sich a right to assist as your son—your only son, an' + your only child too?” + </p> + <p> + This was spoken in a tone of respect and sorrow at once impressive and + affectionate. His fine features were touched with something beyond sadness + or regret, and, as the tears stood in his eyes, it was easy to see that he + felt much more deeply for his father's want of principle than for anything + connected with his own hopes and prospects. In fact, the tears that rolled + silently down his cheeks were the tears of shame and sorrow for a parent + who could thus school him to an act of such unparalleled baseness. As it + was, the genius of the miser felt rebuked by the natural delicacy and + honor of his son; the old man therefore shrunk back abashed, confused, and + moved at the words which he had heard—simple and inoffensive though + they were. + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” said the wife, wiping her eyes, that were kindling into + indignation, “we're now married goin' an—” + </p> + <p> + “I think, mother,” said Connor, “the less we say about it now the better—with + my own good will I'll never speak on the subject.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right, avourneen,” replied the mother; “you're right; I'll say + nothing—God sees it's no use.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me do?” said the old man, rising and walking' about + in unusual distress and agitation; “you don't know me—I can't do it—I + cant do it. You say, Honor, I don't care about him—I'd give him my + blood—I'd give him my blood to save a hair of his head. My life an' + happiness depinds on him; but who knows how he an' his wife might + mismanage that money if they got it—both young an' foolish? It + wasn't for nothing it came into my mind what I'm afeard will happen to me + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was that, Fardorougha?” asked the wife. + </p> + <p> + “Sich foreknowledge doesn't come for nothing, Honor. I've had it an' felt + it hangin' over me this many a long day, that I'd come to starvation yit; + an' I see, that if you force me to do as you wish, that it 'ill happen. + I'm as sure of it as that I stand before you. I'm an unfortunate man wid + sich a fate before me; an' yet I'd shed my blood for my boy—I would, + an' he ought to know that I would; but he wouldn't ax me to starve for him—would + you, Connor, avick machree, would you ax your father to starve? I'm + unhappy—unhappy—an' my heart's breakin'!” + </p> + <p> + The old man's voice failed him as he uttered the last words; for the + conflict which he felt evidently convulsed his whole frame. He wiped his + eyes, and, again sitting down, he wept bitterly and in silence, for many + minutes. + </p> + <p> + A look of surprise, compassion, and deep distress passed between Connor + and his mother. The latter also was very much affected, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, dear, maybe I spake sometimes too cross to you; but if I do, + God above knows it's not that I bear you ill will, but bekase I'm troubled + about poor Connor. But I hope I won't spake angry to you again; at all + events, if I do, renumber it's only the mother pladin' for her son—the + only son an' child that God was plazed to sind her.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” added Connor, also deeply moved, “don't distress yourself about + me—don't, father dear. Let things take their chance; but come or go + what will, any good fortune that might happen me wouldn't be sweet if it + came by givin' you a sore heart.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the barking of the dog gave notice of approaching + footsteps; and in a few moments the careless whistle of Bartle Flanagan + was heard within a few yards of the door. + </p> + <p> + “This is Bartle,” said Connor; “maybe, father, his answer may throw some + light upon the business. At any rate, there's no secret in it; we'll all + hear what news he brings us.” + </p> + <p> + He had scarcely concluded when the latch was lifted, but Bartle could not + enter. + </p> + <p> + “It's locked and bolted,” said Fardorougha; “as he sleeps in the barn I + forgot that he was to come in here any more to-night—open it, + Connor.” + </p> + <p> + “For the sake of all the money you keep in the house, father,” said + Connor, smiling, “it's hardly worth your while to be so timorous; but God + help the county treasurer if he forgot to bar his door—Asy, Bartle, + I'm openin' it.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan immediately entered, and, with all the importance of a confidant, + took his seat at the fire. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bartle,” said Connor, “what news?” + </p> + <p> + “Let the boy get his supper first,” said Honor; “Bartle, you must be + starved wid hunger.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, I'm middlin' well, I thank you, that same way,” replied Bartle; + “divil a one o' me but's as ripe for my supper as a July cherry; an' wid + the blessin' o' Heaven upon my endayvors I'll soon show you what good + execution is.” + </p> + <p> + A deep groan from Fardorougha gave back a fearful echo to the truth of + this formidable annunciation. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you well, Fardorougha?” asked Bartle. + </p> + <p> + “Throth I'm not, Bartle; never was more uncomfortable in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan immediately commenced his supper, which consisted of flummery and + new milk—a luxury among the lower ranks which might create envy in + an epicure. As he advanced in the work of destruction, the gray eye of + Fardorougha, which followed every spoonful that entered his mouth, + scintillated like that of a cat when rubbed down the back, though from a + directly opposite feeling. He turned and twisted on the chair, and looked + from his wife to his son, then turned up his eyes, and appeared to feel as + if a dagger entered his heart with every additional dig of Bartle's spoon + into the flummery. The son and wife smiled at each other; for they could + enjoy those petty sufferings of Fardorougha with a great deal of + good-humor. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Connor, “what's the news?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a word worth telling; at laste that I can hear.” + </p> + <p> + “I mane from Bodagh Buie's.” + </p> + <p> + Bartle stared at him; “Bodagh Buie's!—what do I know about Bodagh + Buie? are you ravin'?” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Connor, smiling, “my father and mother knows all about it—an' + about your going to Una with the letter. I have no secrets from them.” + </p> + <p> + “Hoot toot! That's a horse of another color; but you wouldn't have me, + widout knowin' as much, to go to betray trust. In the mane time, I may as + well finish my supper before I begin to tell you what-som-ever I happen to + know about it.” + </p> + <p> + Another deep groan from Fardorougha followed the last observation. + </p> + <p> + At length the work of demolition ceased, and after Honor had put past the + empty dish, Bartle, having wiped his mouth, and uttered a hiccup or two, + thus commenced to dole out his intelligence:— + </p> + <p> + “Whin I wint to the Bodagh's,” said Bartle, “it was wid great schamin' an' + throuble I got a sight of Miss Una at all, in regard of —(hiccup)—in + regard of her not knowin' that there was any sich message for her—(hiccup). + But happenin' to know Sally Laffan, I made bould to go into the kitchen to + ax, you know, how was her aunt's family up in Skelgy, when who should I + find before me in it but Sally an' Miss Una—(hiccup). (Saver of + earth this night! from Fardorougha.) Of coorse I shook hands wid her—wid + Sally, I mane; an', 'Sally,' says I, 'I was sent in wid a message from the + masther to you; he's in the haggard an' wants you.' So, begad, on—-(hiccup) + out she goes, an' the coast bein' clear, 'Miss Una,' says I, 'here's a + scrap of a letther from Misther Connor O'Donovan; read it, and if you can + write him an answer, do; if you haven't time say whatever you have to say + by me.' She go—(hiccup) she got all colors when I handed it to her; + an' run away, say—in' to me, 'wait for a while, an' don't go till I + see you.' In a minute or two Sally comes in agin as mad as the dickens wid + me, 'The curse o' the crows an' you!' says she, 'why did you make me run a + fool's erran' for no rason? The masther wasn't in the haggard, an' didn't + want me good or bad.'” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said the impatient lover, “pass all that over for the present, + an' let us know the answer, if she sent any.” + </p> + <p> + “Sent any! be my sowl, she did so! Afther readin' your letther, an' + findin' that she could depind on me, she said that for fear of any remarks + bein' made about my waitin', espishally as I live at present in this + family, it would be better she thought to answer it by word o' mouth. + 'Tell him,' said she, 'that I didn't think he wa—(hiccup) (Queen o' + heaven!) was so dull an' ignorant o' the customs of the country, as not to + know that whin young people want to see one another they stay away from + mass wid an expectation that'—begad, I disremimber exactly her own + words; but it was as much as to say that she staid at home on last Sunday + expectin' to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but Bartle, what else?—short an' sweet, man.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, she'll meet you on next Thursday night, God willin', in the same + place; an' whin I axed her where, she said you knew it yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “An' is that all?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it's not all; she sed it 'ud be better to mention the thing to her + father. Afther thinkin' it over she says, 'as your father has the na—(hiccup) + '(Saints above!) the name of being so rich, she doesn't know if a friend + 'ud interfere but his consint might be got;' an' that's all I have to say + about it, barrin' that she's a very purty girl, an' I'd advise you not to + be too sure of her yet, Bartle. So now I'm for the barn—Good night, + Far—(hiccup) (at my cost, you do it!) Fardorougha.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and proceeded to his sleeping—place in the barn, whither + Connor, who was struck by his manner, accompanied him. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said O'Donovan, “did you take anything since I saw you last?” + </p> + <p> + “Only a share of two naggins wid my brother Antony at Peggy Finigan's.” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed it upon you,” observed Connor; “but I don't think they did.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if they did, too, it's not high thrason, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but, Bartle, I'm obliged to you. You've acted as a friend to me, an' + I won't forget it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'm so much obliged to you, Connor, that I'll remimber your employin' + me in this the longest day I have to live. But, Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Bartle.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd take the sacrament, that, after all, a ring you'll never put on her.” + </p> + <p> + “And what makes you think so, Bartle?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't—I do—(hiccup) don't know; but somehow something or + another tells it to me that you won't; others is fond of her, I suppose, + as well as yourself; and of coorse they'll stand betune you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, but I'm sure of her.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're not; wait till I see you man and wife, an' thin I'll say so. + Here's myself, Bartle, is in love, an' dhough I don't expect ever the girl + will or would marry me, be the crass of heaven, no other man will have + her. Now, how do you know but you may have some one like me—like me, + Connor, to stand against you?” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said Connor, laughing, “your head's a little moidher'd; give me + your hand; whish! the devil take you, man! don't wring my fingers off. Say + your prayers, Bartle, an' go to sleep. I say agin I won't forget your + kindness to me this night.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan had now deposited himself upon his straw bed, and, after having + tugged the bedclothes about him, said, in the relaxed, indolent voice of a + man about to sleep, + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Connor; throth my head's a little soft to-night—good + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, Bartle.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I stand to you to-night? Very well—goo—(hiccup) good + night.” + </p> + <p> + On Connor's return, a serious conclave was held upon the best mode of + procedure in a manner which presented difficulties that appeared to be + insurmountable. The father, seizing upon the advice transmitted by Una + herself, as that which he had already suggested, insisted that the most + judicious course was to propose for her openly, and without appearing to + feel that there was any inferiority on the part of Connor. + </p> + <p> + “If they talk about wealth, Connor,” said he, “say that you are my son, + an' that—that—no—no—I'm too poor for such a boast, + but say that you will be able to take good care of anything you get.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door, which Connor had not bolted, as his father would + have done, opened, and Bartle, wrapped in the treble folds of a winnow—cloth, + made a distant appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, Connor; I forgot to say that Una's brother, the young priest + out o' Maynooth, will be at home from his uncle's, where it appears he is + at present; an' Miss Una would wish that the proposal 'ud be made while + he's at his father's. She says he'll stand her friend, come or go what + will. I forgot, begad, to mintion it before—so beg pardon, an' + wishes you all good—night!” + </p> + <p> + This information tended to confirm them in the course recommended by + Fardorougha. It was accordingly resolved upon that he (Fardorougha) + himself should wait upon Bodagh Buie, and in the name of his son formally + propose for the hand of his daughter. + </p> + <p> + To effect this, however, was a matter of no ordinary difficulty, as they + apprehended that the Bodagh and his wife would recoil with indignation at + the bare notion of even condescending to discuss a topic which, in all + probability, they would consider as an insult. Not, after all, that there + existed, according to the opinion of their neighbors, such a vast + disparity in the wealth of each; on the contrary, many were heard to + assert, that of the two Fardorougha had the heavier purse. His character, + however, was held in such abhorrence by all who knew him, and he ranked, + in point of personal respectability and style of living, so far beneath + the Bodagh, that we question if any ordinary occurrence could be supposed + to fall upon the people with greater amazement than a marriage, or the + report of a marriage, between any member of the two families. The + O'Donovans felt, however, that it was better to make the experiment + already agreed on, than longer to remain in a state of uncertainty about + it. Should it fail, the position of the lovers, though perhaps rendered + somewhat less secure, would be such as to suggest, as far as they + themselves were concerned, the necessity of a more prompt and effectual + course of action. Fardorougha expressed his intention of opening the + matter on the following day; but his wife, with a better knowledge of + female character, deemed it more judicious to defer it until after the + interview which was to take place between Connor and Una on the succeeding + Thursday. It might be better, for instance, to make the proposal first to + Mrs. O'Brien herself, or, on the other hand, to the Bodagh; but touching + that and other matters relating to what was proposed to be done, Una's + opinion and advice might be necessary. + </p> + <p> + Little passed, therefore, worthy of note, during the intermediate time, + except a short conversation between Bartle and Connor on the following + day, as they returned to the field from dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said the other, “you wor a little soft last night; or rather a + good deal so.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, no doubt o' that—but when a man meets an old acquaintance or + two, they don't like to refuse a thrate. I fell in wid three or four boys—all + friends o' mine, an' we had a sup on account o' what's expected.” + </p> + <p> + As he uttered these words, he looked at Connor with an eye which seemed to + say—you are not in a certain secret with which I am acquainted. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” replied Connor, “what do you mane, Bartle? I thought you were with + your brother—at laste you tould me so.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan started on hearing this. + </p> + <p> + “Wid my brother,” said he—“why, I—I—what else could I + tell you? He was along wid the boys when I met them.” + </p> + <p> + “Took a sup on account o' what's expected!—an' what's the manin'o' + that, Bartle?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what would it mane—but—but—your marriage?” + </p> + <p> + “An' thunder an' fury?” exclaimed Connor, his eyes gleaming; “did you go + to betray trust, an' mintion Una's name an' mine, afther what I tould + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be foolish, Connor,” replied Flanagan; “is it mad you'd have me to + be? I said there was something expected soon, that 'ud surprise them; and + when they axed me what it was—honor bright! I gave them a knowin' + wink, but said notion'. Eh! was that breakin' trust? Arrah, be me sowl, + Connor, you don't trate me well by the words you spoke this blessed + minute.” + </p> + <p> + “An' how does it come, Bartle, my boy, that you had one story last night, + an' another to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, very aisily, bekase I forget what I sed last night—for sure + enough I was more cut than you thought—but didn't I keep it well in + before the ould couple?” + </p> + <p> + “You did fairly enough; I grant that—but the moment you got into the + barn a blind man could see it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bekase I didn't care a button wanst I escaped from the eye of your + father; anyhow, bad luck to it for whiskey; I have a murdherin' big + heddick all day afther it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a bad weed, Bartle, and the less a man has to do with it, the less + he'll be throubled afther wid a sore head or a sore conscience.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, divil a one, but you're the moral of a good boy; I dunna a fault + you have but one.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, let us hear it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you some day, but not now, not now—but I will tell you—an' + I'll let you know the raison thin that I don't mintion it now; in the mane + time I'll sit down an take a smoke.” + </p> + <p> + “A smoke! why, I never knew you smoked.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor I, myself, till last night. This tindher—box I was made a + present of to light my pipe, when not near a coal. Begad, now that I think + of it, I suppose it was smokin' that knocked me up so much last night, an' + mide my head so sick to-day.” + </p> + <p> + “It helped it, I'll engage; if you will take my advice, it's a custom you + won't larn.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a good deal to throuble me, Connor; you know I have; an' what we + are brought down to now; I have more nor you'd believe to think of; as + much, any way, as'll make this box an' steel useful, I hope, when I'm + frettin'.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan spoke truth, in assuring Connor that the apology given for his + intoxication on the preceding night had escaped his memory. It was + fortunate for him, indeed, that O'Donovan, like all candid and ingenuous + persons, was utterly devoid of suspicion, otherwise he might have + perceived, by the discrepancy in the two accounts, as well as by + Flanagan's confusion, that he was a person in whom it might not be prudent + to entrust much confidence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART3" id="link2H_PART3"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART III. + </h2> + <p> + The tryste between Connor and Una was held at the same place and hour as + before, and so rapid a progress had love made in each of their hearts, + that we question if the warmth of their interview, though tender and + innocent, would be apt to escape the censure of our stricter readers. Both + were depressed by the prospect that lay before them, for Connor frankly + assured her that he feared no earthly circumstances could ever soften his + father's heart so far as to be prevailed upon to establish him in life. + </p> + <p> + “What then can I do, my darling Una? If your father and mother won't + consent—as I fear they won't—am I to bring you into the + miserable cabin of a day laborer? for to this the son of a man so wealthy + as my father is, must sink. No, Una dear, I have sworn never to bring you + to poverty, and I will not.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” she replied somewhat gravely, “I thought you had formed a + different opinion of me. You know but little of your own Una's heart, if + you think she wouldn't live with you in a cabin a thousand and a thousand + times sooner than she would live with any other in a palace. I love you + for your own sake, Connor; but it appears you don't think so.” + </p> + <p> + Woman can never bear to have her love undervalued, nor the moral dignity + of a passion which can sacrifice all worldly and selfish considerations to + its own purity and attachment, unappreciated. When she uttered the last + words, therefore, tears of bitter sorrow, mingled with offended pride, + came to her aid. She sobbed for some moments, and again went on to + reproach him with forming so unfair an estimate of her affection. + </p> + <p> + “I repeat that I loved you for yourself only, Connor, and think of what I + would feel, if you refused to spend your life in a cottage with me. If I + thought you wished to marry me, not because I am Una O'Brien, but the + daughter of a wealthy man, my heart would break, and if I thought you were + not true—minded, and pure—hearted, and honorable, I would + rather be dead than united to you at all.” + </p> + <p> + “I love you so well, and so much, Una, that I doubt I'm not worthy of you—and + it's fear of seeing you brought down to daily labor that's crushing and + breaking my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “But, dear Connor—what is there done by any cottager's wife that I + don't do every day of my life? Do you think my mother lets me pass my time + in idleness, or that I myself could bear to be unemployed even if she did; + I can milk, make butter, spin, sew, wash, knit, and clean a kitchen; why, + you have no notion,” she added, with a smile, “what a clever cottager's + wife I'd make!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Una,” said Connor, now melting into tenderness greater than he had + ever before felt; “Una dear, it's useless—it's useless—I + can't, no, I couldn't—and I will not live without you, even if we + were to beg together—but what is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Now, while my brother John is at home, is the time to propose it to my + father and mother who look upon him with eyes of such affection and + delight that I am half inclined to think their consent may be gained.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, darling, his consent will be as hard to gain as their own.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” she replied, fondly, “only you're a hard—hearted thing that's + afraid to live in a cottage with me, I could tell you some good news—or + rather you doubt me—and fear that I wouldn't live in one with you.” + </p> + <p> + A kiss was the reply, after which he said— + </p> + <p> + “With you, my dear Una, now that you're satisfied, I would live and die in + a prison—with you, with you—in whatever state of life we may + be placed, with you, but without you—never, I could not—I + could not——” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we are young, you know, and neither of us proud—and I am not + a lazy girl—indeed, I am not; but you forget the good news.” + </p> + <p> + “I forget that, and everything else but yourself, darling, while I'm in + your company. O heavens! if you were once my own, and that we were never + to be separated!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but the good news!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I haye mentioned our affection to my brother, and he has promised to + assist us. He has heard of your character, and of your mother's, and says + that it's unjust to visit upon you——” + </p> + <p> + She paused—“You know, my dear Connor, that you must not be offended + with anything I say.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, my sweet treasure, what you're going to say,” replied Connor, + with a smile; “nobody need be delicate in saying that my father loves the + money, and knows how to put guinea to guinea; that's no secret. I wish he + loved it less, to be sure, but it cannot be helped; in the mean time, <i>ma + colleen dhas dhun</i>—O, how I love them words! God bless your + brother! he must have a kind heart, Una dear, and he must love you very + much when he promises to assist us.” + </p> + <p> + “He has, and will; but, Connor, why did you send such a disagreeable, + forward, and prying person, as your father's servant to bring me your + message? I do not like him—he almost stared me out of countenance.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Connor, “I feel a good dale for him, and I think he's + an honest, good—hearted boy, and besides, he's in love himself.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he, was always a starer, and I say again <i>I don't</i> like him.” + </p> + <p> + “But, as the case stands, dear Una, I have no one else to trust to—at + all events, he's in our secret, and the best way, if he's not honest, is + to keep him in it; at laste, if we put him out of it now, he might be + talking to our disadvantage.” + </p> + <p> + “There's truth in that, and we must only trust him with as little of our + real secrets as possible; I cannot account for the strong prejudice I feel + against him, and have felt for the past two years. He always dressed above + his means, and once or twice attempted to speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I know he's in love with some one, for he told me so; poor + fellow, I'm bound, my dear Una, to show him any kindness in my power.” + </p> + <p> + After some further conversation, it was once more decided that Fardorougha + should, on the next day, see the Bodagh and his wife, in order to + ascertain whether their consent could be obtained to the union of our + young and anxious lovers. This step, as the reader knows, was every way in + accordance with Fardorougha's inclination. Connor himself would have + preferred his mother's advocacy to that of a person possessing such a + slender hold on their good-will as his other parent. But upon consulting + with her, she told him that the fact of the proposal coming from + Fardorougha might imply a disposition on his part to provide for his son. + At all events, she hoped that contradiction, the boast of superior wealth, + or some fortunate collision of mind and principle, might strike a spark of + generous feeling out of her husband's heart, which nothing, she knew, + under strong excitement, such as might arise from the bitter pride of the + O'Brien's, could possibly do. Besides, as she had no favorable + expectations from the interview, she thought it an unnecessary and painful + task to subject herself to the insults which she apprehended from the + Bodagh's wife, whose pride and importance towered far and high over those + of her consequential husband. + </p> + <p> + This just and sensible view of the matter, on the part of the mother, + satisfied Connor, and reconciled him to the father's disinclination to be + accompanied by her to the scene of conflict; for, in truth, Fardorougha + protested against her assistance with a bitterness which could not easily + be accounted for. “If your mother goes, let her go by herself,” said he; + “for I'll not interfere in't if she does. I'll take the dirty Bodagh and + his fat wife my own way, which I can't do if Honor comes to be enibbin' + and makin' little o' me afore them. Maybe I'll pull down their pride for + them better than you think, and in a way they're not prepared for; them + an' their janting car!” + </p> + <p> + Neither Connor nor his mother could help being highly amused at the + singularity of the miserable pomp and parsimonious display resorted to by + Fardorougha, in preparing for this extraordinary mission. Out of an old + strongly locked chest he brought forth a gala coat, which had been duly + aired, but not thrice worn within the last twenty years. The progress of + time and fashion had left it so odd, outre, and ridiculous, that Connor, + though he laughed, could not help feeling depressed on considering the + appearance his father must make when dressed, or rather disfigured, in it. + Next came a pair of knee—breeches by the same hand, and which, in + compliance with the taste of the age that produced them, were made to + button so far down as the calf of the leg. Then appeared a waistcoat, + whose long pointed flaps reached nearly to the knees. Last of all was + produced a hat not more than three inches deep in the crown, and brimmed + so narrowly, that a spectator would almost imagine the leaf had been cut + off. Having pranked himself out in these habiliments, contrary to the + strongest expostulations of both wife and son, he took his staff and set + forth. But lest the reader should expect a more accurate description of + his person when dressed, we shall endeavor at all events to present him + with a loose outline. In the first place, his head was surmounted with a + hat that resembled a flat skillet, wanting the handle; his coat, from + which avarice and penury had caused him to shrink away, would have fitted + a man twice his size, and, as he had become much stooped, its tail, which, + at the best, had been preposterously long, now nearly swept the ground. To + look at him behind, in fact, he appeared all body. The flaps of his + waistcoat he had pinned up with his own hands, by which piece of exquisite + taste, he displayed a pair of thighs so thin and disproportioned to his + small—clothes, that he resembled a boy who happens to wear the + breeches of a full-grown man, so that to look at him in front he appeared + all legs. A pair of shoes, polished with burned straw and buttermilk, and + surmounted by two buckles, scoured away to skeletons, completed his + costume. In this garb he set out with a crook-headed staff, into which + long use, and the habit of griping fast whatever he got in his hand, had + actually worn the marks of his forefinger and thumb. + </p> + <p> + Bodagh Buie, his wife, and their two children, were very luckily assembled + in the parlor, when the nondescript figure of the deputy-wooer made his + appearance on that part of the neat road which terminated at the gate of + the little lawn that fronted the hall-door. Here there was another gate to + the right that opened into the farm or kitchen yard, and as Fardorougha + hesitated which to enter, the family within had an opportunity of getting + a clearer view of his features and person. + </p> + <p> + “Who is that quare figure standing there?” inquired the Bodagh; “did you + ever see sich a——ah, thin, who can he be?” + </p> + <p> + “Somebody comin', to see some of the sarvints, I suppose,” replied his + wife; “why, thin, it's not unlike little Dick <i>Croaitha</i>, the + fairyman.” + </p> + <p> + In sober truth, Fardorougha was so completely disguised by his dress, + especially by his hat, whose shallowness and want of brim, gave his face + and head so wild and eccentric an appearance, that we question if his own + family, had they not seen him dress, could I have recognized him! At + length he turned into the kitchen-yard, and, addressing a laborer whom he + met, asked— + </p> + <p> + “I say, nabor, which is the right way into Bodagh Buie's house?” + </p> + <p> + “There's two right ways into it, an' you may take aither o' them—but + if you want any favor from him, you had better call him <i>Mr</i>. + O'Brien. The Bodagh's a name was first given to his father, an' he bein' a + dacenter man, doesn't like it, although it sticks to him; so there's a + lift for you, my hip striddled little codger.” + </p> + <p> + “But which is the right door o' the house?” + </p> + <p> + “There it is, the kitchen—peg in—that's your intrance, barrin' + you're a gintleman in disguise, an' if be, why turn out again to that + other gate, strip off your shoes, and pass up ginteely on your tipytoes, + and give a thunderin' whack to the green ring that's hangin' from the + door. But see, friend,” added the man, “maybe you'd do one a sarvice?” + </p> + <p> + “How,” said Fardorougha, looking earnestly at him; “what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to lave us a lock o' your hair before you go,” replied the wag, with + a grin. + </p> + <p> + The miser took no notice whatsoever of this, but was turning quietly out + of the yard, to enter by the lawn, when the man called out in a commanding + voice— + </p> + <p> + “Back here, you codger!—tundher an' thump!—back I say! You + won't be let in that way—thramp back, you leprechaun, into the + kitchen—eh! you won't—well, well, take what you'll get—an' + that'll be the way back agin.” + </p> + <p> + 'Twas at this moment that the keen eye of Una recognized the features of + her lover's father, and a smile, which she felt it impossible to subdue, + settled upon her face, which became immediately mantled with blushes. On + hurrying out of the room she plucked her brother's sleeve, who followed + her to the hall. + </p> + <p> + “I can scarcely tell you, dear John,” she said, speaking rapidly, “it's + Fardorougha O'Donovan, Connor's father; as you know his business, John, + stay in the parlor;” she squeezed his hand, and added with a smile on her + face, and a tear in her eye, “I fear it's all over with me—I don't + know whether to laugh or cry—but stay, John dear, an' fight my + battle—Una's battle.” + </p> + <p> + She ran upstairs, and immediately one of the most beggarly, sordid, and + pusillanimous knocks that ever spoke of starvation and misery was heard at + the door. + </p> + <p> + “I will answer it myself,” thought the amiable brother; “for if my father + or mother does, he surely will not be allowed in.” + </p> + <p> + John could scarcely preserve a grave face, when Fardorougha presented + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Is Misther O'Brien widin?” inquired the usurer, shrewdly availing himself + of the hint he received from the servant. + </p> + <p> + “My father is,” replied John; “have the goodness to step in.” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha entered immediately, followed by young O'Brien, who said, + </p> + <p> + “Father, this is Mr. O'Donovan, who, it appears, has some important + business with the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be mistherin' me,” replied Fardorougha, helping himself to a seat; + “I'm too poor to be misthered.” + </p> + <p> + “With this family!” exclaimed the father in amazement; “what business can + Fardorougha Donovan have with this family, John?”' + </p> + <p> + “About our children,” replied the miser; “about my son and your daughter.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what about them?” inquired Mrs. O'Brien; “do you dar to mintion them + in the same day together?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not,” said the miser; “ay, an' on the same night, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my reputaytion, Mr. O'Donovan, you're extramely kind—now be a + little more so, and let us undherstand you,” said the Bodagh. + </p> + <p> + “Poor Una!” thought John, “all's lost; he will get himself kicked out to a + certainty.” + </p> + <p> + “I think it's time we got them married,” replied Fardorougha; “the sooner + it's done the better, and the safer for both o' them; especially for the + colleen.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dar a Lorha</i>, he's cracked,” said Mrs. O'Brien; “sorra one o' the + poor soul but's cracked about his money.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor sowl, woman alive! wor you never poor yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Yis I wor; an' I'm not ashamed to own it; but, Chierna, Frank,” she + added, addressing her husband, “there's no use in spakin' to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” said O'Brien, seriously, “what brought you here?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to tell you an' your wife the state that my son, Connor, and your + daughter's in about one another; an' to advise you both, if you have + sinse, to get them married afore worse happen. It's your business more nor + mine.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right,” said the Bodagh, aside to his wife; “he's sartinly + deranged. Fardorougha,” he added, “have you lost any money lately?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm losin' every day,” said the other; “I'm broke assistin' them that + won't thank me, let alone paying me as they ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you have lost nothing more than usual?” + </p> + <p> + “If I didn't, I tell you there's a good chance of losin' it before me;—can + a man call any money of his safe that's in another man's pocket?” + </p> + <p> + “An' so you've come to propose a marriage between your son and my + daughter, yet you lost no money, an' you're not mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a morsel o' me is mad—but you'll be so if you refuse to let + this match go an.” + </p> + <p> + “Out wid him—<i>a shan roghara</i>,” shouted Mrs. O'Brien, in a + state of most dignified offence; “<i>Damho orth</i>, you ould knave! is it + the son of a miser that has fleeced an' robbed the whole counthry side + that we 'ud let our daughther, that resaved the finish to her edication in + a Dubling boardin' school, marry wid?—<i>Vic na hoiah</i> this day!” + </p> + <p> + “You had no sich scruple yourself, ma'am,” replied the bitter usurer, + “when you bounced at the son of the ould Bodagh Buie, an' every one knows + what he was.” + </p> + <p> + “He!” said the good woman; “an' is it runnin' up comparishments betuxt + yourself an' him you are afther? Why, Saint Peter wouldn't thrive on your + money, you nager.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe Saint Pethur thruv on worse—but havn't you thruv as well on + the Bodagh's, as if it had been honestly come by? I defy you an' the world + both—to say that ever I tuck a penny from any one, more than my + right. Lay that to the mimory of the ould Bodagh, an' see if it'll fit. + It's no light guinea, any how.” + </p> + <p> + Had Fardorougha been a man of ordinary standing and character in the + country, from whom an insult could be taken, he would no doubt have been + by a very summary process expelled the parlor. The history of his + querulous and irascible temper, however, was so well known, and his + offensive eccentricity of manner a matter of such established fact, that + the father and son, on glancing at each other, were seized with the same + spirit, and both gave way to an uncontrollable fit of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Is it a laughin' stock you're makin' of' it?” said Mrs. O'Brien, highly + indignant. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, achora, it may be no laughin' stock afther all,” replied the + Bodagh. + </p> + <p> + “I think, mother,” observed John, “that you and my father had better treat + the matter with more seriousness. Connor O'Donovan is a young man not to + be despised by any person at all near his own class of life who regards + the peace and welfare of a daughter. His character stands very high; + indeed, in every way unimpeachable.” + </p> + <p> + The bitter scowl which had sat upon the small dark features of + Fardorougha, when replying to the last attack of Mrs. O'Brien, passed away + as John spoke. The old man turned hastily around, and, surveying the + eulogist of his son, said, + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, asthore, for thim words! and they're thrue—thrue as + the gospel, arrah what are you both so proud of? I defy you to get the + aquil of my son in the barony of Lisnamona, either for face, figure or + temper! I say he's fit to be a husband for as good a gill as ever stood in + your daughter's shoes; an' from what I hear of her, she's as good a girl + as ever the Almighty put breath in. God bless you, young man, you're a + credit yourself to any parents.” + </p> + <p> + “An' we have nothin' to say aginst your son, nor aginst your wife aither,” + replied the Bodagh; “an' if your own name was as clear——if you + wor looked upon as they are—tut, I'm spakin' nonsense! How do I know + whether ever your son and my daughter spoke a word to one another or not?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll go bail Oona never opened her lips to him,” said her mother; “I'll + go bail she had more spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “An' I'll go bail she can't live widout him, an' will have him whether you + like it or not,” said Fardorougha. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” observed John, “will you and my father come into the next room + for a minute—I wish to say a word or two to each of you; and will + you, Fardorougha, have the goodness to sit here till we return?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a notion,” replied O'Donovan, “I have of stirrin' my foot till the + thing's settled one way or other.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said young O'Brien, when they got into the back parlor, “it's right + that you both should know to what length the courtship between Una and + Connor O'Donovan has gone.” + </p> + <p> + “Coortship! <i>Vich no hoiah!</i> sure she wouldn't go to coort wid the + son o' that ould schamer.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm beginning to fear that it's too thrue,” observed the Bodagh; “and if + she has—but let us hear John.” + </p> + <p> + “It's perfectly true, indeed, mother, that she has,” said the son. “Yes, + and they are both this moment pledged, betrothed, promised, solemnly + promised to each other; and in my opinion the old man within is acting a + more honorable part than either of you give him credit for.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, well,” exclaimed the mother; “who afther that would ever + thrust a daughter? The girl that we rared up as tindher as a chicking, to + go to throw herself away upon the son of ould Fardorougha Donovan, the + misert! Confusion to the ring ever he'll put an her! I'd see her stretched + (dead) first.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you in that, Bridget,” said the husband; “if it was only to + punish her thrachery and desate, I'll take good care a ring will never go + on them; but how do you know all this, John?” + </p> + <p> + “From Una's own lips, father.” + </p> + <p> + The Bodagh paced to and fro in much agitation; one hand in his small—clothes + pocket, and the other twirling his watch-key as rapidly as he could. The + mother, in the meantime, had thrown herself into a chair, and gave way to + a violent fit of grief. + </p> + <p> + “And you have this from Una's own lips?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, father, I have; and it is much to her credit that she was candid + enough to place such confidence in her brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Pledged and promised to one another. Bridget, who could believe this?” + </p> + <p> + “Believe it! I don't believe it—it's only a schame of the hussy to + get him. Oh, thin, Queen of Heaven this day, but it's black news to us!” + </p> + <p> + “John,” said the father, “tell Una to come down to us.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, I doubt that's rather a trying task for her. I wish, you wouldn't + insist.” + </p> + <p> + “Go off, sir; she must come down immediately, I'll have it from her own + lips, too.” + </p> + <p> + Without another word of remonstrance the son went to bring her down. When + the brother and sister entered the room, O'Brien still paced the floor. He + stood, and, turning his eyes upon his daughter with severe displeasure, + was about to speak, but he appeared to have lost the power of utterance; + and, after one or two ineffectual attempts, the big tears fairly rolled + down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “See, see,” said the mother, “see what you have brought us to. Is it thrue + that you're promised to Fardorougha's son?” + </p> + <p> + Una tottered over to a chair, and the blood left her cheeks; her lips + became dry, and she gasped for breath. + </p> + <p> + “Why, don't you think it worth your while to answer me?” continued the + mother. + </p> + <p> + The daughter gave a look of deep distress and supplication at her brother; + but when she perceived her father in tears, her head sank down upon her + bosom. + </p> + <p> + “What! what! Una,” exclaimed the Bodagh, “Una—” But ere he could + complete the question, the timid creature fell senseless upon the floor. + </p> + <p> + For a long time she lay in that friendly trance, for such, in truth, it + was to a delicate being, subjected to an ordeal so painful as that she was + called upon to pass through. We have, indeed, remarked that there is in + the young, especially in those of the softer sex, a feeling of terror, and + shame, and confusion, when called upon by their parents to disclose a + forbidden passion, that renders its avowal perhaps the most formidable + task which the young heart can undergo. It is a fearful trial for the + youthful, and one which parents ought to conduct with surpassing delicacy + and tenderness, unless they wish to drive the ingenuous spirit into the + first steps of falsehood and deceit. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said John, “I think you may rest satisfied with what you + witness; and I am sure it cannot make you or mother happy to see poor Una + miserable.” + </p> + <p> + Una, who had been during the greater part of her swoon supported in her + weeping and alarmed mother's arms, now opened her eyes, and, after casting + an affrighted look about the room, she hid her face in her mother's bosom, + and exclaimed, as distinctly as the violence of sobbing grief would permit + her: + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother dear, have pity on me! bring me up stairs and I will tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I do, I do pity you,” said the mother, kissing her; “I know you'll be a + good girl yet, Oona.” + </p> + <p> + “Una,” said her father, placing his hand gently on her shoulder, “was I + ever harsh to you, or did I—” + </p> + <p> + “Father dear,” she returned, interrupting him, “I would have told you and + my mother, but that I was afraid.” + </p> + <p> + There was something so utterly innocent and artless in this reply, that + each of the three persons present felt sensibly affected by its extreme + and childlike simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be afraid of me, Una,” continued the Bodagh, “but answer—me + truly, like a good girl, and I swear upon my reputation, that I won't be + angry. Do you love the son of this Fardorougha?” + </p> + <p> + “Not, father, because he's Fardorougha's son,” said Una, whose face was + still hid in her mother's bosom; “I would rather he wasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “But you do love him?” + </p> + <p> + “For three years he has scarcely been out of my mind.” + </p> + <p> + Something that might be termed a smile crossed the countenance of the + Bodagh at this intimation. + </p> + <p> + “God help you for a foolish child!” said he; “you're a poor counsellor + when left to defend your own cause.” + </p> + <p> + “She won't defend it by a falsehood, at all events,” observed her + trustworthy and affectionate brother. + </p> + <p> + “No, she wouldn't,” said the mother; “and I did her wrong a while ago, to + say that she'd schame anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And are you and Connor O'Donovan promised to aich other?” inquired the + father again. + </p> + <p> + “But it wasn't I that proposed the promise,” returned Una. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the desperate villain,” exclaimed her father, “to be guilty of such a + thing! but you took the promise Una—you did—you did—I + needn't ask.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Una. + </p> + <p> + “No!” reechoed the father; “then you did not give the promise?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean,” she rejoined, “that you needn't ask.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, faith, that alters the case extremely. Now, Una, this—all this + promising that has passed between you and Connor O'Donovan is all folly. + If you prove to be the good obedient girl that I hope you are, you'll put + him out of your head, and then you can give back to one another whatever + promises you made.” + </p> + <p> + This was succeeded by a silence of more than a minute. Una at length + arose, and, with a composed energy of manner, that was evident by her + sparkling eye and bloodless cheek, she approached her father, and calmly + kneeling down, said slowly but firmly: + </p> + <p> + “Father, if nothing else can satisfy you, I will give back my promise; but + then, father, it will break my heart, for I know—I feel—how I + love him, and how I am loved by him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll get you a better husband,” replied her father—“far more + wealthy and more respectable than he is.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give back the promise,” said she; “but the man is not living, except + Connor O'Donovan, that will ever call me wife. More wealthy! more + respectable!—Oh, it was only himself I loved. Father, I'm on my + knees before you, and before my mother. I have only one request to make—Oh, + don't break your daughter's heart!” + </p> + <p> + “God direct us,” exclaimed her mother; “it's hard to know how to act. If + it would go so hard upon her, sure—” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” said her husband; “may God direct us to the best! I'm sure God + knows,” he continued, now much affected, “that I would rather break my own + heart than yours, Una. Get up, dear—rise. John, how would you advise + us?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't see any serious objection, after all,” replied the son, “either + you or my mother can have to Connor O'Donovan. He is every way worthy of + her, if he is equal to his character; and as for wealth, I have often + heard it said that his father was a richer man than yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Afther all,” said the mother, “she might be very well wid him.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what I'll do, then,” said the Bodagh—“let us see the + ould man himself, and if he settles his son dacently in life, as he can do + if he wishes, why, I won't see the poor, foolish, innocent girl breaking + her heart.” + </p> + <p> + Una, who had sat with her face still averted, now ran to her father, and, + throwing her arms about his neck, wept aloud, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay,” said the latter, “it's very fine now that you have everything + your own way, you girsha; but, sure, you're all the daughter we have, + achora, and it would be too bad not to let you have a little of your own + opinion in the choice of a husband. Now go up stairs, or where you please, + till we see what can be done with Fardorougha himself.” + </p> + <p> + With smiling face and glistening eyes Una passed out of the room, scarcely + sensible whether she walked, ran, or flew, while the others went to renew + the discussion with Pardorougha. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the miser, “you found out, I suppose, that she can't do + widout him?” + </p> + <p> + “Provided we consent to the marriage,” asked the Bodagh, “how will you + settle your son in life?” + </p> + <p> + “Who would I settle in life if I wouldn't settle my only son?” replied the + other; “who else is there to get all I have?” + </p> + <p> + “That's very true,” observed the Bodagh; “but state plainly what you'll do + for him on his marriage.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you consint to the marriage all of yees?” + </p> + <p> + “That's not the question,” said the other. “Divil a word I'll answer till + I know whither yees do or not,” said Fardorougha. “Say at once that you + consint, and then I'll spake—I'll say what I'll do.” + </p> + <p> + The Bodagh looked inquiringly at his wife and son. The latter nodded + affirmatively. “We do consent,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “That shows your own sinse,” said the old man. “Now what fortune will you + portion your colleen wid?” + </p> + <p> + “That depinds upon what you'll do for your son,” returned the Bodagh. + </p> + <p> + “And that depinds upon what you'll do for your daughter,” replied the + sagacious old miser. + </p> + <p> + “At this rate we're not likely to agree.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothin's asier; you have only to spake out; besides it's your business, + bein' the colleen's father.” + </p> + <p> + “Try him, and name something fair,” whispered John. + </p> + <p> + “If I give her a farm of thirty acres of good land, stocked and all, what + will you do for Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “More than that, five times over; I'll give him all I have. An' now when + will we marry them? Throth it was best to make things clear,” added the + knave, “and undherstand one another at wanst. When will we marry them?” + </p> + <p> + “Not till you say out openly and fairly the exact amount of money you'll + lay down on the nail—an' that before even a ring goes upon them.” + </p> + <p> + “Give it up, acushla,” said the wife, “you see there's no screwin' a + promise out of him, let alone a penny.” + </p> + <p> + “What 'ud yees have me do?” said the old man, raising his voice. “Won't he + have all I'm worth? Who else is to have it? Am I to make a beggar of + myself to please you? Can't they live on your farm till I die, an' thin + it'll all come to them?” + </p> + <p> + “An' no thanks to you for that, Fardorougha,” said the Bodagh. “No, no; + I'll never buy a pig in a poke. If you won't act generously by your son, + go home, in the name of goodness, and let us hear no more about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, why?” asked the miser, “are yees mad to miss what I can leave him? + If you knew how much it is, you'd snap—; but God help me! what am I + sayin'? I'm poorer than anybody thinks. I am—I am; an' will starve + among you all, if God hasn't sed it. Do you think I don't love my son as + well, an' a thousand times better, than you do your daughter? God alone + sees how my heart's in him—in my own Connor, that never gave me a + sore heart—my brave, my beautiful boy!” + </p> + <p> + He paused, and the scalding tears here ran down his shrunk and furrowed + cheeks, whilst he wrung his hands, started to his feet, and looked about + him like a man encompassed by dangers that threatened instant destruction. + </p> + <p> + “If you love your son so well,” said John, mildly, “why do you grudge to + share your wealth with him? It is but natural and it is your duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Natural! what's natural?—to give away—is it to love him you + mane? It is, it's unnatural to give it away. He's the best son—the + best—what do you mane, I say?—let me alone—let me alone—I + could give him my blood, my blood—to sich a boy; but, you want to + kill me—you want to kill me, an' thin you'll get all; but he'll + cross you, never fear—my boy will save me—he's not tired of me—he'd + give up fifty girls sooner than see a hair of his father's head injured—so + do your best, while I have Connor, I'm not afraid of yees. Thanks be to + God that sent him!” he exclaimed, dropping suddenly on his knees—“oh, + thanks be to God that sent him to comfort an' protect his father from the + schames and villainy of them that 'ud bring him to starvation for their + own ends!” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said John, in a low tone, “this struggle between avarice and + natural affection is awful. See how his small gray eyes glare, and the + froth rises white to his thin shrivelled lips. What is to be done?” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” said the Bodagh, “it's over; don't distress yourself—keep + your money—there will be no match between our childhre.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? why won't there?” he screamed—“why won't there, I say? Havn't + you enough for them until I die? Would you see your child breakin' her + heart? Bodagh, you have no nather in you—no bowels for your <i>colleen + dahs</i>. But I'll spake for her—I'll argue wid you till this time + to-morrow, or I'll make you show feelin' to her—an' if you don't—if + you don't—” + </p> + <p> + “Wid the help o' God, the man's as mad as a March hare,” observed Mrs. + O'Brien, “and there's no use in losin' breath wid him.” + </p> + <p> + “If it's not insanity,” said John, “I know not what it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” proceeded Fardorougha, who evidently paid no attention to + what the mother and son said, being merely struck by the voice of the + latter, “young man, you're kind, you have sinse and feelin'—spake to + your father—don't let him destroy his child—don't ax him to + starve me, that never did him harm. He loves you—he loves you, for + he can't but love you—sure, I know how I love my own darlin' boy. + Oh, spake to him—here I go down on my knees to you, to beg, as you + hope to see God in heaven, that't you'll make him not break his daughter's + heart! She's your own sister—there's but the two of yees, an' oh, + don't desart her in this throuble—this heavy, heavy throuble!” + </p> + <p> + “I won't interfere farther in it,” replied the young man, who, however, + felt disturbed and anxious in the extreme. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. O'Brien,” said he, turning imploringly, and with a wild, haggard + look to the Bodngh's wifs, “I'm turnin' to you—you're her mother—Oh + think, think”— + </p> + <p> + “I'll think no more about it,” she replied. “You're mad, an' thank God, we + know it. Of coorse it'll run in the family, for which reasing my daughter + 'ill never be joined to the son of a madman.” + </p> + <p> + He then turned as a last resource to O'Brien himself. “Bodagh, Bodagh, I + say,” here his voice rose to a frightful pitch, “I enthrate, I order, I + command you to listen to me! Marry them—don't kill your daughter, + an' don't, don't, dare to kill my son. If you do I'll curse you till the + marks of your feet will scorch the ground you tread on. Oh,” he exclaimed, + his voice now sinking, and his reason awaking apparently from exhaustion, + “what is come over me? what am I sayin'?—but it's all for my son, my + son.” He then rose, sat down, and for more than tweny minutes wept like an + infant, and sobbed and sighed as if his heart would break. + </p> + <p> + A feeling very difficult to be described hushed his amazed auditory into + silence; they felt something like pity towards the unfortunate old man, as + well as respect for that affection which struggled with such moral heroism + against the frightful vice that attempted to subdue this last surviving + virtue in the breast of the miser. + </p> + <p> + On his getting calm, they spoke to him kindly, but in firm and friendly + terms communicated their ultimate determination, that, in consequence of + his declining to make an adequate provision for the son, the marriage + could by no means take place. He then got his hat, and attempted to reach + the road which led down to the little lawn, but so complete was his + abstraction, and so exhausted his faculties, that it was not without + John's assistance he could reach the gate which lay before his eyes. He + first turned out of the walk to the right, then crossed over to the left, + and felt surprised that a wall opposed him in each direction. + </p> + <p> + “You are too much disturbed,” said John, “to perceive the way, but I will + show you.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I thought it was at home I was,” he replied, “bekase at my own + house one must turn aither to the right or to the left, as, indeed, I'm in + the custom of doin'.” + </p> + <p> + Whilst Fardorougha was engaged upon his ill-managed mission, his wife, who + felt that all human efforts at turning the heart of her husband from his + wealth must fail, resolved to have recourse to a higher power. With this + purpose in view, she put on her Sunday dress, and informed Connor that she + was about to go for a short time from home. + </p> + <p> + “I'll be back if I can,” she added, “before your father; and, indeed, it's + as good not to let him know anything about it.” + </p> + <p> + “About what, mother? for I know as little about it as he does.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear boy, I'm goin' to get a couple o' masses sed, for God to + turn his heart from that cursed <i>airaghid</i> it's fixed upon. Sure it + houlds sich a hard grip of his poor sowl, that it'll be the destruction of + him here an' hereafther. It'll kill him afore his time, an' then I + thrimble to think of his chance above.” + </p> + <p> + “The object is a good one, sure enough, an' it bein' for a spiritual + purpose the priest won't object to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why would he, dear, an' it for the good of his sowl? Sure, when Pat + Lanigan was jealous, his wife got three masses sed for him; and, wid the + help o' God, he was cured sound and clane.” + </p> + <p> + Connor could not help smiling at this extraordinary cure for jealousy, nor + at the simple piety of a heart, the strength of whose affection he knew so + well. After her return she informed the son, that, in addition to the + masses to be said against his father's avarice, she had some notion of + getting another said towards his marriage with Una. + </p> + <p> + “God help you, mother,” said Connor, laughing; “for I think you're one of + the innocentest women that ever lived; but whisht!” he added, “here's my + father—God grant that he may bring good news!” + </p> + <p> + When Fardorougha entered he was paler or rather sallower than usual; and, + on his thin, puckered face, the lines that marked it were exhibited with a + distinctness greater than ordinary. His eyes appeared to have sunk back + more deeply into his head; his cheeks had fallen farther into his jaws; + his eyes were gleamy and disturbed; and his Whole appearance bespoke + trouble and care and the traces of a strong and recent struggle within + him. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Connor, with a beating heart, “for Heaven's sake, what news—what + tidings? I trust in God it's good.” + </p> + <p> + “They have no bowels, Connor—they have no bowels, thim O'Briens.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn't succeed.” + </p> + <p> + “The father's as great a bodagh as him he was called after—they're a + bad pack—an' you mustn't think of any one belongin'to them.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell us, man dear,” said the wife, “what passed—let us know it + all.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, they would do nothin'—they wouldn't hear of it. I went on my + knees to them—ay, to every one of them, barrin' the colleen herself; + but it was all no use—it's to be no match.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, father, did you go on your knees to any of them,” said Connor; + “I'm sorry you did that.” + </p> + <p> + “I did it on your account, Connor, an' I'd do it again on your account, + poor boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, it can't be helped.” + </p> + <p> + “But tell me, Fardorougha,” inquired Honor, “was any of the fault your own—what + did you offer to do for Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me alone,” said he, peevishly; “I won't be cross-questioned about it. + My heart's broke among you all—what did I offer to do for Connor? + The match is knocked up, I tell you—and it must be knocked up. + Connor's young, an' it'll be time enough for him to marry this seven years + to come.” + </p> + <p> + As he said this, the fire of avarice blazed in his eyes, and he looked + angrily at Honor, then at the son; but, while contemplating the latter, + his countenance changed from anger to sorrow, and from sorrow to a mild + and serene expression of affection. + </p> + <p> + “Connor, avick,” said he, “Connor, sure you'll not blame me in this + business? sure you won't blame your poor, heart—broken father, let + thim say what they will, sure you won't, avilish?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't fret on my account, father,” said the sonj “why should I blame you? + God knows you're strivin' to do what you would wish for me.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Honor, I know he wouldn't; no,” he shouted, leaping up, “he wouldn't + make a saicrefize o' me! Connor, save me, save me,” he shrieked, throwing + his arms about his neck; “save me; my heart's breakin'—somethin's + tearin' me different ways inside; I can cry, you see; I can cry, but I'm + still as hard as a stone; it's terrible this I'm sufferin'—terrible + all out for a weak ould man like me. Oh, Connor, avick, what will I do? + Honor, achora, what 'ill become o' me—ainn't I strugglin', + strugglin' against it, whatever it is; don't yees pity me? Don't ye, avick + machree, don't ye, Honor? Oh, don't yees pity me?” + </p> + <p> + “God pity you!” said the wife, bursting into tears; “what will become of + you? Pray to God, Fardorougha, pray to Him. No one alive can change your + heart but God. I wint to the priest to-day, to get two masses said to turn + your heart from that cursed money. I didn't intind to tell you, but I do, + bekase it's your duty to pray now above all times, an' to back the priest + as well as you can.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the best advice, father, you could get,” said the son, as he helped + the trembling old man to his seat. + </p> + <p> + “An' who bid you thin to go to lavish money that way?” said he, turning + snappishly to Honor, and relapsing again into the peevish spirit of + avarice; “Saver o' Heaven, but you'll kill me, woman, afore you have done + wid me! How can I stand it, to have my hard—earned——an' + for what? to turn my heart from money? I don't want to be turned from it—I + don't wish it! Money!—I have no money—nothin'—nothin'—an' + if there's not better decreed for me, I'll be starved yet—an' is it + any wondh'er? to be robbin' me the way you're doin'!” + </p> + <p> + His wife clasped her hands and looked up towards heaven in silence, and + Connor, shaking his head despairingly, passed out to join Flanagan at his + labor, with whom he had not spoken that day. Briefly, and with a heavy + heart, he communicated to him the unsuccessful issue of his father's + interference, and asked his opinion as to how he should conduct himself + under circumstances so disastrous to his happiness and prospects. Bartle + advised him to seek another interview with Una, and, for that purpose, + offered, as before, to ascertain, in the course of that evening, at what + time and place she would see him. This suggestion, in itself so natural, + was adopted, and as Connor felt, with a peculiar acuteness, the pain of + the situation in which he was! placed, he manifested little tendency to + conversation, and the evening consequently passed heavily and in silence. + </p> + <p> + Dusk, however, arrived, and Bartle prepared himself to execute the + somewhat difficult commission he had so obligingly undertaken. He + appeared, however, to have caught a portion of Connor's despondency, for, + when about to set out, he said “that he felt his spirits sunk and + melancholy; just,” he added, “as if some misfortune, Connor, was afore + aither or both of us; for my part I'd stake my life that things will go + ashanghran one way or other, an' that you'll never call Una O'Brien your + wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” replied the other, “I only want you to do my message, an' not be + prophesyin' ill—bad news comes to soon, without your tellin' us of + it aforehand. God knows, Bartle dear, I'm distressed enough as it is, and + want my spirits to be kept up rather than put down.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Connor, but you want somethin' to divart your mind off this business + altogether, for a while; an' upon my saunies it 'ud be a charity for some + friend to give you a fresh piece of fun to think of—so keep up your + heart, how do you know but I may do that much for you myself? But I want + you to lend me the loan of a pair of shoes; divil a tatther of these will + be together soon, barrin' I get them mended in time; you can't begrudge + that, any how, an' me wearin' them on your own business.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, man—to be sure I will; stop an' I'll bring them out to + you in half a shake.” + </p> + <p> + He accordingly produced a pair of shoes, nearly new, and told Bartle that + if he had no objection to accept of them as a present, he might consider + them as his own. + </p> + <p> + This conversation took place in Fardorougha's barn, where Flanagan always + slept, and kept his small deal trunk. + </p> + <p> + He paused a moment when this good—natured offer was made to him; but + as it was dark no particular expression could be discovered on his + countenance, + </p> + <p> + “No!” said he vehemently; “may I go to perdition if I ought!—Connor—Connor + O' Donovan—you'd turn the div—” + </p> + <p> + “Halt, Bartle, don't be angry—whin I offered them, I didn't mane to + give you the slightest offence; it's enough for you to tell me you won't + have them without gettin' into a passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Have what? what are you spakin' about?” + </p> + <p> + “Why—about the shoes; what else?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, faith, sure enough—well, ay, the shoes!—don't think of + it, Connor—I'm hasty; too much so, indeed, an' that's my fault. I'm + like all good-natured people in that respect; however, I'll borry them for + a day or two, till I get my own patched up some way. But, death alive, why + did you get at this season o' the year three rows of sparables in the + soles o' them?” + </p> + <p> + “Bekase they last longer, of coorse; and now, Bartle, be off, and don't + let the grass grow under your feet till I see you again.” + </p> + <p> + Connor's patience, or rather his impatience, that night, was severely + taxed. Hour after hour elapsed, and yet Bartle did not return. At length + he went to his father's sleeping-room, and informed him of the message he + had sent through Flanagan to Una. + </p> + <p> + “I will sleep in the barn to-night, father,” he added; “an' never fear, + let us talk as we may, but we'll be up early enough in the morning, plase + God. I couldn't sleep, or go to sleep, till I hear what news he brings + back to us; so do you rise and secure the door, an' I'll make my shakedown + wid Bartle this night.” + </p> + <p> + The father who never refused him anything unpecuniary (if we may be + allowed the word), did as the son requested him, and again went to bed, + unconscious of the thundercloud which was so soon to burst upon them both. + </p> + <p> + Bartle, however, at length returned, and Connor had the satisfaction of + hearing that his faithful Una would meet him the next night, if possible, + at the hour of twelve o'clock, in her father's haggard. Her parents, it + appeared, had laid an injunction upon her never to see him again; she was + watched, too, and, unless when the household were asleep, she found it + altogether impracticable to effect any appointment whatsoever with her + lover. She could not even promise with certainty to meet him on that + night, but she desired him to come, and if she failed to be punctual, not + to leave the place of appointment for an hour. After that, if she appeared + not, then he was to wait no longer. Such was the purport of the message + which Flanagan delivered him. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan was the first up the next morning, for the purpose of keeping an + appointment which he had with Biddy Neil, whom we have already introduced + to the reader. On being taxed with meanness by this weak but honest + creature, for having sought service with the man who had ruined his + family, he promised to acquaint her with the true motive which had induced + him to enter into Fardorougha's employment. Their conversation on this + point, however, was merely a love scene, in which Bartle satisfied the + credulous girl, that to an attachment for herself of some months' + standing, might be ascribed his humiliation in becoming a servant to the + oppressor and destroyer of his house. He then passed from themselves and + their prospects to Connor and Una O'Brien, with whose attachment for each + other, as the reader knows, he was first made acquainted by his + fellow-servant. + </p> + <p> + “It's terrible, Biddy,” said he, “to think of the black and revengeful + heart that Connor bears to Bodagh Buie and his family merely bekase they + rufuse to let him marry Una. I'm afeard, Biddy darlin', that there'll be + dark work about it on Connor's side; an' if you hear of anything bad + happenin' to the Bodagh, you'll know where it comes from.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't b'lieve it, Bartle, nor I won't b'lieve it—not, any way, + till I hear that it happens. But what is it he intends to do to them?” + </p> + <p> + “That's more than I know myself,” replied Bartle; “I axed as much, an' he + said till it was done nobody would be the wiser.” + </p> + <p> + “That's quare,” said the girl, “for a better heart than Connor has, the + Saver o' the world never made.” + </p> + <p> + “You think so, agra, but wait; do you watch, and you'll find that he don't + come in to-night. I know nothin' myself of what he's about, for he's as + close as his father's purse, an' as deep as a draw—well; but this I + know, that he has black business on his hands, whatever it is. I trimble + to think of it!” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan then got tender, and, after pressing his suit with all the + eloquence he was master of, they separated, he to his labor in the fields, + and she to her domestic employment, and the unusual task of watching the + motions of her master's son. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan, in the course of the day, suggested to Connor the convenience of + sleeping that night also in the barn. The time of meeting, he said was too + late, and his father's family, who were early in their hours, both night + and morning, would be asleep even before they set out. He also added, that + lest any of the O'Briens or their retainers should surprise him and Una, + he had made up his mind to accompany him, and act as a vidette during + their interview. + </p> + <p> + Connor felt this devotion of Bartle to his dearest interests, as every + grateful and generous heart would. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said he, “when we are married, if it's ever in my power to make + you aisy in life, may I never prosper if I don't do it! At all events, in + some way I'll reward you.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're ever able, Connor, I'll have no objection to be behoulden to + you; that is, if you're ever able, as you say.” + </p> + <p> + “And if there's a just God in heaven, Bartle, who sees my heart, however + things may go against me for a time, I say I will be able to sarve you, or + any other friend that desarves it. But about sleepin' in to-night—coorse + I wouldn't be knockin' up my father, and disturbin' my poor mother for no + rason; so, of coorse, as I said, I'll sleep in the barn; it makes no + difference one way or other.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said Flanagan, with much solemnity, “if Bodagh Buie's wise, + he'll marry you and his daughter as fast as he can.” + </p> + <p> + “An' why, Bartle?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, for rasons you know nothin' about. Of late he's got very much out o' + favor, in regard of not comin' in to what people wish.” + </p> + <p> + “Speak plainer, Bartle; I'm in the dark now.” + </p> + <p> + “There's work goin' on in the counthry, that you and every one like you + ought to be up to; but you know nothin', as I said, about it. Now Bodagh + Buie, as far as I hear—for I'm in the dark myself nearly as much as + you—Bodagh Buie houlds out against them; an' not only that, I'm + tould, but gives them hard words, an' sets them at defiance.” + </p> + <p> + “But what has all this to do with me marrying his daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he wants some one badly to stand his friend wid them; an' if you + were married to her, you should on his account become one o' thim; begad, + as it is, you ought, for to tell the truth there's talk—strong talk + too—about payin' him a nightly visit that mayn't sarve him.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Bartle, you're consarned in this business.” + </p> + <p> + “No, faith, not yet; but I suppose I must, if I wish to be safe in the + counthry; an' so must you too, for the same rason.” + </p> + <p> + “And, if not up, how do you know so much about it?” + </p> + <p> + “From one o' themselves, that wishes the! Bodagh well; ay, an' let me tell + you, he's a marked man, an' the night was appointed to visit him; still it + was put back to thry if he could be managed, but he couldn't; an' all I + know about it is that the time to remimber him is settled, an' he's to get + it, an', along wid other things, he'll be ped for turnin' off—however, + I can't say any more about that.” + </p> + <p> + “How long is it since you knew this?” + </p> + <p> + “Not long—only since last night, or you'd a got it before this. The + best way, I think, to put him on his guard 'ud be to send him a scrape of + a line wid no name to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” replied Connor, “I'm as much behoulden to you for this, as if it + had been myself or my father that was marked. God knows you have a good + heart, an' if you don't sleep sound, I'm at a loss to know who ought.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's hard to tell who has a good heart, Connor; I'd never say any one + has till I'd seen them well thried.” + </p> + <p> + At length the hour for setting out arrived, and both, armed with good + oaken cudgels proceeded to Bodagh Buie's haggard, whither they arrived a + little before the appointed hour. An utter stillness prevailed around the + place—not a dog barked—not a breeze blew, nor did a leaf move + on its stem, so calm and warm was the night. Neither moon nor stars shone + in the firmament, and the darkness seemed kindly to throw its dusky mantle + over this sweet and stolen interview of our young lovers. As yet, however, + Una had not come, nor could Connor, on surveying the large massy farm—house + of the Bodagh, perceive any appearance of light, or hear a single sound, + however faint, to break the stillness in which it slept. Bartle, + immediately after their arrival in the haggard, separated from his + companion, in order, he said, to give notice of interruption, should Una + be either watched or followed. + </p> + <p> + “Besides, you know,” he added, “sweethearts like nobody to be present but + themselves, when they do be spakin' soft to one another. So I'll just keep + dodgin' about, from place to place wid my eye an' ear both open, an' if + any intherloper comes I'll give yees the hard word.” + </p> + <p> + Heavily and lazily creep those moments during which an impatient lover + awaits the approach of his mistress; and woe betide the wooer of impetuous + temperament who is doomed, like our hero, to watch a whole hour and a half + in vain. Many a theory did his fancy body forth, and many a conjecture did + he form, as to the probable cause of her absence. Was it possible that + they watched her even in the dead hour of night? Perhaps the grief she + felt at her father's refusal to sanction the match had brought on + indisposition; and—oh, harrowing thought!—perhaps they had + succeeded in prevailing upon her to renounce him and his hopes forever. + But no; their affection was too pure and steadfast to admit of a + supposition so utterly unreasonable. What, then, could have prevented her + from keeping an appointment so essential to their future prospects, and to + the operations necessary for them to pursue? Some plan of intercourse—some + settled mode of communication must be concerted between them; a fact as + well known to herself as to him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” thought he, “whatever's the reason of her not coming, I'm + sure the fault is not hers; as it is, there's no use in waitin' this night + any longer.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan, it appeared, was of the same opinion, for in a minute or two he + made his appearance, and urged their return home. It was clear, he said, + that no interview could take place that night, and the sooner they reached + the barn and got to bed the better. + </p> + <p> + “Folly me,” he added; “we can pass through the yard, cross the road before + the hall-door, and get over the stile, by the near way through the fields + that's behind the orchard.” + </p> + <p> + Connor, who was by no means so well acquainted with the path as his + companion, followed him in the way pointed out, and in a few minutes they + found themselves walking at a brisk pace in a direction that led homewards + by a shorter cut. Connor's mind was too much depressed for conversation, + and both were proceeding in silence, when Flanagan started in alarm, and + pointed out the figure of some one walking directly towards them. In less + than a minute the person, whoever he might be, had come within speaking + distance, and, as he shouted “Who comes there?” Flanagan bolted across the + ditch, along which they had been going, and disappeared. “A friend,” + returned Connor, in reply to the question. + </p> + <p> + The other man advanced, and, with a look of deep scrutiny, peered into his + face. “A friend,” he exclaimed; “faith, it's, a quare hour for a friend to + be out. Who are you, eh? Is this Connor O'Donovan?” + </p> + <p> + “It is; but you have the advantage of me.” + </p> + <p> + “If your father was here he would know Phil Curtis, any way.'' + </p> + <p> + “I ought to 'a known the voice myself,” said Connor; “Phil, how are you? + an' what's bringin' yourself out at this hour?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I want to buy a couple o' milk cows in the fair o' Kilturbit, an' + I'm goin' to catch my horse, an' make ready. It's a stiff ride from this, + an' by the time I'm there it I'll be late enough for business, I'm + thinkin'. There was some one wid you; who was it?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” said Connor, good—humoredly, “he was out coortin', and + doesn't wish to be known; and Phil, as you had the luck to meet me, I beg + you, for Heaven's sake, not to breathe that you seen me near Bodagh Buie's + to-night; I have various reasons for it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's no secret to me as it is,” replied Curtis; “half the parish knows + it; so make your mind asy on that head. Good night, Connor! I wish you + success, anyhow; you'll be a happy man if you get her; although, from what + I hear has happened, you have a bad chance, except herself stands to you.” + </p> + <p> + The truth was, that Fardorougha's visit to the Bodagh, thanks to the high + tones of his own shrill voice, had drawn female curiosity, already + suspicious of the circumstances, to the keyhole of the parlor-door, where + the issue and object of the conference soon became known. In a short time + it had gone among the servants, and from them was transmitted, in the + course of that and the following day, to the tenants and day-laborers! who + contrived to multiply it with such effect, that, as Curtis said, it was + indeed no secret to the greater part of the parish. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan soon rejoined Connor, who, on taxing him with his flight, was + informed, with an appearance of much regret, that a debt of old standing + due to Curtis had occasioned it. + </p> + <p> + “And upon my saunies, Connor, I'd rather any time go up to my neck in + wather than meet a man that I owe money to, whin I can't pay him. I knew + Phil very well, even before he spoke, and that was what made me cut an' + run.” + </p> + <p> + “What!” said Connor, looking towards the east, “can it be day-light so + soon?” + </p> + <p> + “Begad, it surely cannot,” replied his companion. + </p> + <p> + “Holy mother above us, what is this?” + </p> + <p> + Both involuntarily stood to contemplate the strange phenomenon which + presented itself to their observation; and, as it was certainly both novel + and startling in its appearance, we shall pause a little to describe it + more minutely. + </p> + <p> + The night, as we have already said, was remarkably dark, and warm to an + unusual degree. To the astonishment, however, of our two travellers, a + gleam of light, extremely faint, and somewhat resembling that which + precedes the rising of a summer sun, broke upon their path, and passed on + in undulating sweeps for a considerable space before them. Connor had + scarcely time to utter the exclamation just alluded to, and Flanagan to + reply to him, when the light around them shot farther into the distance + and deepened from its first pale hue into a rich and gorgeous purple. Its + effect, however, was limited within a circle of about a mile, for they + could observe that it got faint gradually, from the centre to the extreme + verge, where it melted into utter darkness. + </p> + <p> + “They must mean something extraordinary,” said Connor; “whatever it is, it + appears to be behind the hill that divides us from Bodagh's Buie's house. + Blessed earth! it looks as if the sky was on fire!” + </p> + <p> + The sky, indeed, presented a fearful but sublime spectacle. One spot + appeared to glow with the red-white heat of a furnace, and to form the + centre of a fiery cupola, from which the flame was flung in redder and + grosser masses, that darkened away into wild and dusky indistinctness, in + a manner that corresponded with the same light, as it danced in red and + frightful mirth upon the earth. As they looked, the cause of this awful + phenomenon soon became visible. From behind the hill was seen a thick + shower of burning particles rushing up into the mid air, and presently the + broad point of a huge pyramid of fire, wavering in terrible and capricious + power, seemed to disport itself far up in the very depths of the glowing + sky. On looking again upon the earth they perceived that this terrible + circle was extending itself over a wider circumference of country, marking + every prominent object around them with a dark blood—red tinge, and + throwing those that were more remote into a visionary but appalling + relief. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dhar Chriestha</i>,” exclaimed Flanagan, “I have it; thim I spoke + about has paid Bodagh Buie the visit they promised him.” + </p> + <p> + “Come round the hip o' the hill,” said Connor, “till we see where it + really is; but I'll tell you what, Bartle, if you be right, woe betide + you! all the water in Europe wouldn't wash you free in my mind, of being + connected in this same Ribbon business that's spreading through the + country. As sure as that sky—that fearful sky's above us, you must + prove to me and other's how you came to know that this hellish business + was to take place. God of heaven! let us run—surely it couldn't be + the dwelling-house!” + </p> + <p> + His speed was so great that Bartle could find neither breath nor leisure + to make any reply. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God!” he exclaimed; “oh, thank God it's not the house, and there + lives are safe! but blessed Father, there's the man's whole haggard in + flames!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the netarnal villains!” was the simple exclamation of Flanagan. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said his companion, “you heard what I said this minute?” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met as he spoke, and for the first time O'Donovan was struck by + the pallid malignity of his features. The servant gazed steadily upon him, + his lips slightly but firmly drawn back, and his eye, in which was neither + sympathy nor alarm, charged with the spirit of a cool and devilish + triumph. + </p> + <p> + Connor's blazed at the bare idea of his villainy, and, in a fit of manly + and indignant rage, he seized Flanagan and hurled him headlong to the + earth at his feet. “You have hell in your face, you villain!” he + exclaimed; “and if I thought that—if I did—I'd drag you down + like a dog, an' pitch you head—foremost into the flames!” + </p> + <p> + Bartle rose, and, in a voice wonderfully calm, simply observed, “God + knows, Connor, if I know either your heart or mine, you'll be sorry for + this treatment you've given me for no rason. You know yourself that, as + soon as I heard anything of the ill-will against the Bodagh, I tould it to + you, in ordher—mark that—in ordher that you might let him know + it the best way you thought proper; an' for that you've knocked me down!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I believe you may be right, Bartle—there's truth in that—but + I can't forgive you the look you gave me.” + </p> + <p> + “That red light was in my face, maybe; I'm sure if that wasn't it, I can't + tell—I was myself wonderin' at your own looks, the same way; but + then it was that quare light that was in your face.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, maybe I'm wrong—I hope I am. Do you think we could be + of any use there?” + </p> + <p> + “Of use! an' how would we account for being there at all, Connor? how + would you do it, at any rate, widout maybe bringin' the girl into blame?” + </p> + <p> + “You're right agin, Bartle; I'm not half so cool as you are; our best plan + is to go home—” + </p> + <p> + “And go to bed; it is; an' the sooner we're there the better; sowl, + Connor, you gev me a murdherin' crash.” + </p> + <p> + “Think no more of it—think no more of it—I'm not often hasty, + so you must overlook it.” + </p> + <p> + It was, however, with an anxious and distressed heart that Connor + O'Donovan reached his father's barn, where, in the same bed with Flanagan, + he enjoyed, towards morning, a brief and broken slumber that brought back + to his fancy images of blood and fire, all so confusedly mingled with Una, + himself, and their parents, that the voice of his father calling upon them + to rise, came to him as a welcome and manifest relief. + </p> + <p> + At the time laid in this story, neither burnings nor murders were so + familiar nor patriotic, as the fancied necessity of working out political + progress has recently made them. Such atrocities, in these bad and + unreformed days, were certainly looked upon as criminal, rather than + meritorious, however unpatriotic it may have been to form so erroneous an + estimate of human villainy. The consequence of all this was, that the + destruction of Bodagh Buie's property created a sensation in the country, + of which, familiarized as we are to such crimes, we can entertain but a + very faint notion. In three days a reward of five hundred pounds, + exclusive of two hundred from government, was offered for such information + as might bring the incendiary, or incendiaries, to justice. The Bodagh and + his family were stunned as much with amazement at the occurrence of a + calamity so incomprehensible to them, as with the loss they had sustained, + for that indeed was heavy. The man was extremely popular, and by many acts + of kindness had won the attachment and goodwill of all who knew him, + either personally or by character. How, then, account for an act so wanton + and vindictive? They could not understand it; it was not only a—crime, + but a crime connected with some mysterious motive, beyond their power to + detect. + </p> + <p> + But of all who became acquainted with the outrage, not one sympathized + more sincerely and deeply with O'Brien's family than did Connor O'Donovan; + although, of course, that sympathy was unknown to those for whom it was + felt. The fact was, that his own happiness became, in some degree, + involved in their calamity; and, as he came in to breakfast on the fourth + morning of its occurrence, he could not help observing as much to his + mother. His suspicions of Flanagan, as to possessing some clue to the + melancholy business, were by no means removed. On the contrary, he felt + that he ought to have him brought before the bench of magistrates who were + conducting the investigation from day to day, and, with this + determination, he himself resolved to state fully and candidly to the + bench, all the hints which had transpired from Flanagan respecting the + denunciations said to be held out against O'Brien and the causes assigned + for them. Breakfast was now ready, and Fardorougha himself entered, + uttering petulant charges of neglect and idleness against his servant. + </p> + <p> + “He desarves no breakfast,” said he; “not a morsel; it's robbin' me by his + idleness and schaming he is. What is he doin', Connor? or what has become + of him? He's not in the field nor about the place.” + </p> + <p> + Connor paused. + </p> + <p> + “Why, now that I think of it, I didn't see him to-day,” he replied; “I + thought that he was mendin' the slap at the Three-Acres. I'll thry if he's + in the barn.” + </p> + <p> + And he went accordingly to find him. “I'm afraid, father,” said he, on his + return, “that Bartle's a bad boy, an' a dangerous one; he's not in the + barn, an' it appears, from the bed, that he didn't sleep there last night. + The truth is, he's gone; at laste he has brought all his clothes, his box, + an' everything with him; an' what's more, I suspect the reason of it; he + thinks he has let out too much to me; an' it 'ill go hard but I'll make + him let out more.” + </p> + <p> + The servant-maid, Biddy, now entered and informed them that four men, + evidently strangers, were approaching the house from the rear, and ere she + could add anything further on the subject, two of them walked in, and, + seizing Connor, informed him that he was their prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Your prisoner!” exclaimed his mother, getting pale; “why, what could our + poor boy do to make him your prisoner? He never did hurt or harm to the + child unborn.” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha's keen gray eye rested sharply upon them for a moment; it then + turned to Honor, afterwards to Connor, and again gleamed bitterly at the + intruders—“What is this?” said he, starting up; “what is this? you + don't mane to rob us?” + </p> + <p> + “I think,” said the son, “you must be undher a mistake; you surely can + have no business with me. It's very likely you want some one else.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” inquired he who appeared to be the principal of them. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Connor O'Donovan; an' I know no reason why I should deny it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are the very man we come for,” said the querist, “so you had + better prepare to accompany us; in the mean time you must excuse us if we + search your room. This is unpleasant, I grant, but we have no discretion, + and must perform our duty.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want in this room?” said Fardorougha; “it's robbery you're on + for—it's robbery you're on for—in open daylight, too; but + you're late; I lodged the last penny yesterday; that's one comfort; you're + late—you're late.” + </p> + <p> + “What did my boy do?” exclaimed the affrighted mother; “what did he do + that you come to drag him away from us?” + </p> + <p> + This question she put to the other constable, the first having entered her + son's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid, ma'am, you'll know it too soon,” replied the man; “it's a + heavy charge if it proves to be true.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke his companion re-entered the apartment, with Connor's Sunday + coat in his hand, from the pocket of which he drew a steel and tinder-box. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry for this,” he observed; “it corroborates what has been sworn + against you by your accomplice, and here, I fear, comes additional proof.” + </p> + <p> + At the same moment the other two made their appearance, one of them + holding in his hand the shoes which Connor had lent to Flanagan, and which + he wore on the night of the conflagration. + </p> + <p> + On seeing this, and comparing the two circumstances together, a fearful + light broke on the unfortunate young man, who had already felt conscious + of the snare into which he had fallen. With an air of sorrow and manly + resignation he thus addressed his parents:— + </p> + <p> + “Don't be alarmed; I see that there is an attempt made to swear away my + life; but, whatever happens, you both know that I am innocent of doin' an + injury to any one. If I die, I would rather die innocent than live as + guilty as he will that must have my blood to answer for.” + </p> + <p> + His mother, on hearing this, ran to him, and with her arms about his neck, + exclaimed, + </p> + <p> + “Die! die! Connor darlin'—my brave boy—my only son—why + do you talk about death? What is it for? what is it about? Oh, for the + love of God, tell us what did our boy do?” + </p> + <p> + “He is charged by Bartle Flanagan,” replied one of the constables, “with + burning Bodagh Buie O'Brien's haggard, because he refused him his + daughter. He must now come with us to jail.” + </p> + <p> + “I see the whole plot,” said Connor, “and a deep one it is; the villain + will do his worst; still I can't but have dependence upon justice and my + own innocence. I can't but have dependence upon God, who knows my heart.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART4" id="link2H_PART4"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART IV. + </h2> + <p> + Fardorougha stood amazed and confounded, looking from one to another like + a man who felt incapable of comprehending all that had passed before him. + His forehead, over which fell a few gray thin locks, assumed a deadly + paleness, and his eye lost the piercing expression which usually + characterized it. He threw his Cothamore several times over his shoulders, + as he had been in the habit of doing when about to proceed after breakfast + to his usual avocations, and as often laid it aside, without being at all + conscious of what he did. His limbs appeared to get feeble, and his hands + trembled as if he labored under palsy. In this mood he passed from one to + another, sometimes seizing a constable by the arm with a hard, tremulous + grip, and again suddenly letting go his hold of him without speaking. At + length a singular transition from this state of mind became apparent; a + gleam of wild exultation shot from his eye; his sallow and blasted + features brightened; the Cothamore was buttoned under his chin with a + rapid energy of manner evidently arising from the removal of some secret + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” he exclaimed, “it's no robbery; it's not robbery afther all; but + how could it? there's no money here; not a penny; an' I'm belied, at any + rate; for there's not a poorer man in the barony—thank God, it's not + robbery!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Fardorougha,” said the wife, “don't you see they're goin' to take him + away from us?” + </p> + <p> + “Take who away from us?” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, your own Connor—our boy—the light of my heart—the + light of his poor mother's heart! Oh, Connor, Connor, what is it they're + goin' to do to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No harm, mother, I trust; no harm—don't be frightened.” + </p> + <p> + The old man put his open hands to his temples, which he pressed bitterly, + and with all his force, for nearly half a minute. He had, in truth, been + alarmed into the very worst mood of his habitual vice, apprehension + concerning his money; and felt that nothing, except a powerful effort, + could succeed in drawing his attention to the scene which was passing + before him. + </p> + <p> + “What,” said he; “what is it that's wrong wid Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “He must come to jail,” said one of the men, looking at him with surprise; + “we have already stated the crime for which he stands committed.” + </p> + <p> + “To jail! Connor O'Donovan to jail!” + </p> + <p> + “It's too true, father; Bartle Flanagan has sworn that I burned Mr. + O'Brien's haggard.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, Connor,” said the old man, approaching him as he spoke, and + putting his arms composedly about his neck, “Connor, my brave boy, my + brave boy, it wasn't you did it; 'twas I did it,” he added, turning to the + constables; “lave him, lave him wid her, an' take me in his place! Who + would if I would not—who ought, I say—an' I'll do it—take + me; I'll go in his place.” + </p> + <p> + Connor looked down upon the old man, and as he saw his heart rent, and his + reason absolutely tottering, a sense of the singular and devoted affection + which he had ever borne him, overcame him, and with a full heart he dashed + away a tear from his eye, and pressed his father to his breast. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” said he; “this will kill the old man; it will kill him!” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, a hagur,” said Ha wife, feeling it necessary to sustain him + as much as possible, “don't take it so much to heart, it won't signify—Connor's + innocent, an' no harm will happen to him!” + </p> + <p> + “But are you lavin' us, Connor? are they—must they bring you to + jail?” + </p> + <p> + “For a while, father; but I won't be long there I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “It's an unpleasant duty on our part,” said the principal of them; “still + it's one we must perform. Your father should lose no time in taking the + proper steps for your defence.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are we to do?” asked the mother; “God knows the boy's as + innocent as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Fardorougha, still upon dwelling the resolution he had made; + “I'll go stand for you, Connor; you won't let them bring me instead of + you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's out of the question,” replied the constable; “the law suffers + nothing of the kind to take place; but if you will be advised by me, lose + no time in preparing to defend him. It would be unjust to disguise the + matter from you, or to keep you ignorant of its being a case of life and + death.” + </p> + <p> + “Life and death! what do you mane?” asked Fardorougha, staring vacantly at + the last speaker. + </p> + <p> + “It's painful to distress you; but if he's found guilty, it's death.” + </p> + <p> + “Death! hanged!” shrieked the old man, awaking as it were for the first + time to a full perception of his son's situation; “hanged! my boy hanged! + Connor, Connor, don't go from me!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll die wid him,” said the mother; “I'll die wid you, Connor. We + couldn't live widout him,” she added, addressing the strangers; “as God is + in heaven we couldn't! Oh Connor, Connor, avourneen, what is it that has + come over us, and brought us to this sorrow?” + </p> + <p> + The mother's grief then flowed on, accompanied by a burst of that + unstudied, but pathetic eloquence, which in Ireland is frequently uttered + in the tone of wail and lamentation peculiar to those who mourn over the + dead. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she added, with her arms tenderly about him, and her streaming eyes + fixed with a wild and mournful look of despair upon his face; “no, he is + in his loving mother's arms, the boy that never gave to his father or me a + harsh word or a sore heart! Long were we lookin' for him, an' little did + we think it was for this heavy fate that the goodness of God sent him to + us! Oh, many a look of lovin' affection, many a happy heart did he give + us! Many a time Connor, avillish, did I hang over your cradle, and draw + out to myself the happiness and the good that I hoped was before you. You + wor too good—too good, I doubt—to be long in such a world as + this, an' no wondher that the heart of the fair young colleen, the heart + of the <i>Colleen dhas dhun</i> should rest upon you and love you; for who + ever knew you that didn't? Isn't there enough, King of heaven! enough of + the bad an' the wicked in this world for the law to punish, an' not to + take the innocent—not to take away from us the only one—the + only one—I can't—I can't—but if they do—Connor—if + they do, your lovin' mother will die wid you!” + </p> + <p> + The stern officers of justice wiped their eyes, and were proceeding to + afford such consolation as they could, when Fardorougha, who had sat down + after having made way for Honor to recline on the bosom of their son, now + rose, and seizing the breast of his coat, was about to speak, but ere he + could utter a word he tottered, and, would have instantly fallen, had not + Connor caught him in his arms. This served for a moment to divert the + mother's grief, and to draw her attention from the son to the husband, who + was now insensible. He was carried to the door by Connor; but when they + attempted to lay him in a recumbent posture, it was found almost + impossible to unclasp the deathlike grip which he held of the coat. His + haggard face was shrunk and collapsed; the individual features sharp and + thin, but earnest and stamped with traces of alarm; his brows, too, which + were slightly knit, gave to his whole countenance a character of keen and + painful determination. But that which struck those who were present, most, + was the unyielding grasp with which he clung even in his insensibility to + the person of Connor. + </p> + <p> + If not an affecting sight, it was one at least strongly indicative of the + intractable and indurated attachment which put itself forth with such + vague and illusive energy on behalf of his son. At length he recovered, + and on opening his eyes he fixed them with a long look of pain and + distraction upon the boy's countenance. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Connor, “don't be cast down—you need not—and + you ought not to be so much disheartened—do you feel better?” + </p> + <p> + When the father heard his voice he smiled; yes—his shrunk, pale, + withered face was lit up by a wild, indescribable ecstasy, whose startling + expression waa borrowed, one would think, as much from the light of + insanity as from that of returning consciousness. He sucked in his thin + cheeks, smacked his parched, skinny lips, and with difficulty called for + drink. Having swallowed a little water, he looked round him with more + composure, and inquired— + </p> + <p> + “What has happened me? am I robbed? are you robbers? But I tell you + there's no money in the house. I lodged the last penny yesterday—afore + my God I did—but—oh, what am I sayin'? what is this, Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Father dear, compose yourself—we'll get over this throuble.” + </p> + <p> + “We will, darlin',” said Honor, wiping the pale brows of her husband; “an' + we won't lose him.” + </p> + <p> + “No, achora,” said the old man; “no, we won't lose him! Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father dear!” + </p> + <p> + “There's a thing here—here”—and he placed his hand upon his + heart—“something it is that makes me afeard—a sinkin'—a + weight—and there's a strugglin', too, Connor. I know I can't stand + it long—an' it's about you—it's all about you.” + </p> + <p> + “You distress yourself too much, father; indeed you do. Why, I hoped that + you would comfort my poor mother till I come back to her and you, as I + will, plase God.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he replied; “yes, I will, I will.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better prepare,” said one of the officers; “the sooner this is + over the better—he's a feeble man and not very well able to bear + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Connor; “I won't delay many minutes; I have only to + change my clothes, an' I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + In a short time he made his appearance dressed in his best suit; and, + indeed, it would be extremely difficult to meet, in any rank of life, a + finer specimen of vigor, activity, and manly beauty. His countenance, at + all times sedate and open, was on this occasion shaded by an air of + profound melancholy that gave a composed grace and dignity to his whole + bearing. + </p> + <p> + “Now, father,” said he, “before I go, I think it right to lave you and my + poor mother all the consolation I can. In the presence of God, in yours, + in my dear mother's, and in the presence of all who hear me, I am as + innocent of the crime that's laid to my charge as the babe unborn. That's + a comfort for you to know, and let it prevent you from frettin'; and now, + good by; God be with you, and strengthen, and support you both!” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha had already seized his hand; but the old man could neither + speak nor weep; his whole frame appeared to have been suddenly pervaded by + a dry agony that suspended the beatings of his very heart. The mother's + grief, on the contrary, was loud, and piercing, and vehement. She threw + herself once more upon his neck; she kissed his lips, she pressed him to + her heart, and poured out as before the wail of a wild and hopeless + misery. At length, by the aid of some slight but necessary force, her arms + were untwined from about his neck; and Connor then, stooping, embraced his + father, and, gently placing him on a settle—bed, bade him farewell! + On reaching the door he paused, and, turning about, surveyed his mother + struggling in the hands of one of the officers to get embracing him again, + and his gray—haired father sitting in speechless misery on the + settle. He stood a moment to look upon them, and a few bitter tears + rolled, in the silence of manly sorrow, down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Fardorougha!” exclaimed his mother, after they had gone, “sure it + isn't merely for partin' wid him that we feel so heart—broken. He + may never stand under this roof again, an' he all we have and had to + love!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Fardorougha, quietly; “no, it's not, as you say, for merely + partin' wid him—hanged! God! God! Mm—here—Honor—here, + the thought of it—I'll die—it'll break! Oh, God support me! my + heart—here—my heart'll break! My brain, too, and my head—oh! + if God 'ud take me before I'd see it! But it can't be—it's not + possible that our innocent boy should meet sich a death!” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, it is not; sure he's innocent—that's one comfort; but, + Fardorougha, as the men said, you must go to a lawyer and see what can be + done to defind him.” + </p> + <p> + The old man rose up and proceeded to his son's bedroom. + </p> + <p> + “Honor,” said he, “come here;” and while uttering these words he gazed + upon her face with a look of unutterable and hopeless distress; “there's + his bed, Honor—his bed—he may never sleep on it more—he + may be cut down like a flower in his youth—an' then what will become + of us?” + </p> + <p> + “Forever, from this day out,” said the distracted mother, “no hands will + ever make it but my own; on no other will I sleep—we will both sleep—where + his head lay there will mine be too—avick machree—machree! + Och, Fardorougha, we can't stand this; let us not take it to heart, as we + do; let us trust in God, an' hope for the best.” + </p> + <p> + Honor, in fact, found it necessary to assume the office of a comforter; + but it was clear that nothing urged or suggested by her could for a moment + win back the old man's heart from the contemplation of the loss of his + son. He moped about for a considerable time; but, ever and anon, found + himself in Connor's bedroom, looking upon his clothes and such other + memorials of him as it contained. + </p> + <p> + During the occurrence of these melancholy incidents at Fardorougha's, + others of a scarcely less distressing character were passing under the + roof of Bodagh Buie O'Brien. + </p> + <p> + Our readers need not be informed that the charge brought by Bartle + Flanagan against Connor, excited the utmost amazement in all who heard it. + So much at variance were his untarnished reputation and amiable manners + with a disposition so dark and malignant as that which must have prompted + the perpetration of such a crime, that it was treated at first by the + public as an idle rumor. The evidence, however, of Phil Curtis, and his + deposition to the conversation which occurred between him and Connor, at + the time and place already known to the reader, together with the + corroborating circumstances arising from the correspondence of the + footprints about the haggard with the shoes produced by the constable—all, + when combined together, left little doubt of his guilt. No sooner had this + impression become general, than the spirit of the father was immediately + imputed to the son, and many sagacious observations made, all tending to + show, that, as they expressed it, “the bad drop of the old rogue would + sooner or later come out in the young one;” “he wouldn't be what he was, + or the bitter heart of the miser would appear;” with many other apothegms + of similar import. The family of the Bodagh, however, were painfully and + peculiarly circumstanced. With the exception of Una herself, none of them + entertained a doubt that Connor was the incendiary. Flanagan had + maintained a good character, and his direct impeachment of Connor, + supported by such exact circumstantial evidence, left nothing to be urged + in the young man's defence. Aware as they were of the force of Una's + attachment, and apprehensive that the shock, arising from the discovery of + his atrocity, might be dangerous if injudiciously disclosed to her, they + resolved, in accordance with the suggestion of their son, to break the + matter to herself with the utmost delicacy and caution. + </p> + <p> + “It is better,” said John, “that she should hear of the misfortune from + ourselves; for, after breaking it to her as gently as possible, we can at + least attempt to strengthen and console her under it.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven above sees,” exclaimed his mother, “that it was a black and + unlucky business to her and to all of us; but now that she knows what a + revingeful villain he is, I'm sure she'll not find it hard to banish him + out of her thoughts. <i>Deah Grasthias</i> for the escape she had from him + at any rate!” + </p> + <p> + “John, bring her in,” said the father; “bring the unfortunate young + crature in. I can't but pity her, Bridget; I can't but pity ma colleen + voghth.” + </p> + <p> + When Una entered with her brother she perceived by a glance at the solemn + bearing of her parents, that some unhappy announcement was about to be + made to her. She sat down, therefore, with a beating heart and a cheek + already pale with apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Una,” said her father, “we sent for you to mention a circumstance that we + would rather you should hear from ourselves than from strangers. You were + always a good girl, Una—an' obadient girl, and sensible beyant your + years; and I trust that your good sinse and the grace of the Almighty will + enable you to bear up undher any disappointment that may come upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, father, there can be nothing worse than I know already,” she + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you know, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “Only what you told me the day Fardorougha was here, that nothing + agreeable to my wishes could take place.” + </p> + <p> + “I would give a great deal that the business was now as it was even then,” + responded her father; “there's far worse to come, Una, an' you must be + firm, an' prepare to hear what'll thry you sorely.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't guess it, father; but for God's sake tell me at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Who do you think burned our property?” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose if she hadn't been undher the one roof wid us that it's + ourselves he'd burn,” observed her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Father, tell me the worst at once—whatever it may be;—how + could I guess the villain or villains who destroyed our property?” + </p> + <p> + “Villain, indeed! you may well say so,” returned the Bodagh. “That villain + is no other than Connor O'Donovan!” + </p> + <p> + Una felt as if a weighty burden had been removed from her heart; she + breathed freely; her depression and alarm vanished, and her dark eye + kindled into proud confidence in the integrity of her lover. + </p> + <p> + “And, father,” she asked, in a full and firm voice, “is there nothing + worse than that to come?” + </p> + <p> + “Worse! is the girl's brain turned?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dhar a Lhora Heena</i>, she's as mad I believe as ould Fardorougha + himself,” said the mother; “worse! why, she has parted wid all the reasing + she ever had.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, mother, I hope I have not, and that my reason's as clear as ever; + but, as to Connor O'Donovan, he's innocent of that charge, and of every + other that may be brought against him; I don't believe it, and I never + will.” + </p> + <p> + “It's proved against him; it's brought, home to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Who's his accuser?” + </p> + <p> + “His father's servant, Bartle Flanagan, has turned king's evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “The deep-dyed villain!” she exclaimed, with indignation; “father, of that + crime, so sure as God's in heaven, so sure is Connor O'Donovan innocent, + and so sure is Bartle Flanagan guilty—I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “You know it—explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean I feel it—ay, home to the core of my heart—my unhappy + heart—I feel the truth of what I say.” + </p> + <p> + “Una,” observed her brother, “I'm afraid you have been vilely deceived by + him—there's not the slightest doubt of his guilt.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you be deceived, John; I say he's innocent—as I hope for + heaven he's innocent; and, father, I'm not a bit cast down or disheartened + by anything I have yet heard against him.” + </p> + <p> + “You're a very extraordinary girl, Una; but for my part I'm glad you look + upon it as you do. If his innocence appears, no man alive will be better + plazed at it than myself.” + </p> + <p> + “His innocence will appear,” exclaimed the faithful girl; “it must appear; + and,—father, mark this—I say the time will tell yet who is + innocent and who is guilty. God knows,” she added, her energy of manner + increasing, while a shower of hot tears fell down her cheeks, “God knows I + would marry him to-morrow with the disgrace of that and ten times as much + upon him, so certain am I that his heart and hand are free from thought or + deed that's either treacherous or dishonorable.” + </p> + <p> + “Marry him!” said her brother, losing temper; “nobody doubts but you'd + marry him on the gallows, wid the rope about his neck.” + </p> + <p> + “I would do it, and unite myself to a true heart. Don't mistake me, and + mother, dear, don't blame me,” she added, her tears flowing still faster; + “he's in disgrace—sunk in shame and sorrow—and I won't conceal + the force of what I feel for him; I won't desert him now as the world will + do; I know his heart, and on the scaffold to-morrow I would become his + wife, if it would take away one atom of his misery.” + </p> + <p> + “If he's innocent,” said her father, “you have more pinetration than any + girl in Europe; but if he's guilty of such an act against any one + connected with you, Una, the guilt of all the divils in hell is no match + for his. Well, you have heard all we wanted to say to you, and you needn't + stay.” + </p> + <p> + “As she herself says,” observed John, “perhaps time will place everything + in its true light. At present all those who are not in love with him have + little doubt of his guilt. However, even as it is, in principle Una is + right; putting love out of the question, we should prejudge no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Time will,” said his sister, “or rather God will in His own good time. On + God I'm sure he depends; on his providence I also rely for seeing his name + and character cleared of all that has been brought against him. John, I + wish to speak to you in my own room; not that I intend to make any secret + of it, but I want to consult with you first.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Cheerna dheelish</i>,” exclaimed her mother; “what a wife that child + would make to any man that desarved her!” + </p> + <p> + “It's more than I'm able to do, to be angry with her,” returned the + Bodagh. “Did you ever know her to tell a lie, Bridget?” + </p> + <p> + “A lie! no, nor the shadow of a lie never came out of her lips; the + desate's not in her; an' may God look down on her wid compunction this + day; for there's a dark road I doubt before her!” + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” responded her father; “amen, I pray the Saviour. At all evints, + O'Donovan's guilt or innocence will soon be known,” he added; “the 'sizes + begin this day week, so that the business will soon be settled either one + way or other.” + </p> + <p> + Una, on reaching her own room, thus addressed her affectionate brother: + </p> + <p> + “Now, John, you know that my grandfather left rue two hundred guineas in + his will, and you know, too, the impossibility of getting any money from + the clutches of Pardorougha. You must see Connor, and find out how he + intends to defend himself. If his father won't allow him sufficient means + to employ the best lawyers—as I doubt whether he will or not—just + tell him the truth, that whilst I have a penny of these two hundred + guineas, he mustn't want money; an' tell him, too, that all the world + won't persuade me that he's guilty; say I know him to be innocent, and + that his disgrace has made him dearer to me than he ever was before.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, you can't suppose for a moment, my dear Una, that I, your + brother, who, by the way, have never opened my lips to him, could + deliberately convey such a message.” + </p> + <p> + “It must be conveyed in some manner; I'm resolved on that.” + </p> + <p> + “The best plan,” said the other, “is to find out whatsoever attorney they + employ, and then to discover, if possible, whether his father has + furnished sufficient funds for his defence. If he has, your offer is + unnecessary; and if not, a private arrangement may be made with the + attorney of which nobody else need know anything.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, John! God bless you!” she replied; “that is far better; + you have been a good brother to your poor Una—to your poor unhappy + Una!” + </p> + <p> + She leaned her head on a table, and wept for some time at the trying fate, + as she termed it, which hung over two beings so young and so guiltless of + any crime. The brother soothed her by every argument in his power, and, + after gently compelling her to dry her tears, expressed his intention of + going early the next day to ascertain whether or not any professional man + had been engaged to conduct the defence of her unfortunate lover. + </p> + <p> + In effecting this object there was little time lost on the part of young + O'Brien. Knowing that two respectable attorneys lived in the next market + town, he deemed it best to ascertain whether Fardorougha had applied to + either of them for the purposes aforementioned, or, if not, to assure + himself whether the old man had gone to any of those pettifoggers, who, + rather than appear without practice, will undertake a cause almost on any + terms, and afterwards institute a lawsuit for the recovery of a much + larger bill of costs than a man of character and experience would demand. + </p> + <p> + In pursuance of the plan concerted between them, the next morning found + him rapping, about eleven o'clock, at the door of an attorney named + Kennedy, whom he asked to see on professional business. A clerk, on + hearing his voice in the hall, came out and requestedm him to step into a + back room, adding that his master, who was engaged, would see him the + moment he had despatched the person then with him. Thus shown, he was + separated from O'Halloran's office only by a pair of folding doors, + through which every word uttered in the office could be distinctly heard; + a circumstance that enabled O'Brien unintentionally to overhear the + following dialogue between the parties: + </p> + <p> + “Well, my good friend,” said Kennedy to the stranger, who, it appeared, + had arrived before O'Brien only a few minutes, “I am now disengaged; pray, + let me know your business.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger paused a moment, as if seeking the most appropriate terms in + which to express himself. + </p> + <p> + “It's a black business,” he replied, “and the worst of it is I'm a poor + man.” + </p> + <p> + “You should not go to law, then,” observed the attorney. “I tell you + beforehand you will find it is devilish expensive.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” said the man; “it's open robbery; I know what it cost me to + recover the little pences that wor sometimes due to me, when I broke + myself lending weeny trifles to strugglin' people that I thought honest, + and robbed me aftherwards.” + </p> + <p> + “In what way can my services be of use to you at present? for that I + suppose is the object of your calling upon me,” said Kennedy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh thin, sir, if you have the grace of God, or kindness, or pity in your + heart, you can sarve me, you can save my heart from breakin'!” + </p> + <p> + “How—how, man?—come to the point.” + </p> + <p> + “My son, sir, Connor, my only son, was taken away from his mother an' me, + an' put into jail yesterday mornin', an' he innocent; he was put in, sir, + for burnin' Bodagh Buie O'Brien's haggard, an' as God is above me, he as + much burnt it as you did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you are Fardorougha Donovan,” said the attorney; “I have heard of + that outrage; and, to be plain with you, a good deal about yourself. How, + in the name of heaven, can you call yourself a poor man?” + </p> + <p> + “They belie me, sir, they're bitther enemies that say I'm otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “Be you rich or be you poor, let me tell you that I would not stand in + your son's situation for the wealth of the king's exchequer. Sell your + last cow; your last coat; your last acre; sell the bed from under you, + without loss of time, if you wish to save his life; and I tell you that + for this purpose you must employ the best counsel, and plenty of them. The + Assizes commence on this day week, so that you have not a single moment to + lose. Think now whether you love your son or your money best.” + </p> + <p> + “Saver of earth, amn't I an unhappy man! every one sayin' I have money, + an' me has not! Where would I get it? Where would a man like me get it? + Instead o' that, I'm so poor that I see plainly I'll starve yet; I see + it's before me! God pity me this day! But agin, there's my boy, my boy; + oh, God, pity him! Say what's the laste, the lowest, the very lowest you + could take, for defendin' him; an' for pity's sake, for charity's sake, + for God's sake, don't grind a poor, helpless, ould man by extortion. If + you knew the boy—if you knew him—oh, afore my God, if you knew + him, you wouldn't be apt to charge a penny; you'd be proud to sarve sich a + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish everything possible to be done for him, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “Of coorse, of coorse; but widout extravagance; as asy an' light on a poor + man as you can. You could shorten it, sure, an' lave out a grate dale that + 'ud be of no use; nu' half the paper 'ud do; for you might make the clerks + write close—why, very little 'ud be wanted if you wor savin'.” + </p> + <p> + “I can defend him with one counsel if you wish; but, if anxious to save + the boy's life, you ought to enable your attorney to secure a strong bar + of the most eminent lawyers he can engage.” + </p> + <p> + “An' what 'ud it cost to hire three or four of them?” + </p> + <p> + “The whole expenses might amount to between thirty and forty guineas.” + </p> + <p> + A deep groan of dismay, astonishment, and anguish, was the only reply made + to this for some time. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, heavens above!” he screamed, “what will—what will become of me! + I'd rather be dead, as I'll soon be, than hear this, or know it at all. + How could I get it? I'm as poor as poverty itself! Oh, couldn't you feel + for the boy, an' defend him on trust; couldn't you feel for him?” + </p> + <p> + “It's your business to do that,” returned the man of law, coolly. + </p> + <p> + “Feel for him; me! oh, little you know how my heart's in him; but any way, + I'm an unhappy man; everything in the world wide goes against me; but—oh, + my darlin' boy—Connor, Connor, my son, to be tould that I don't feel + for you—well you know, avourneen machree—well you know that I + feel for you, and 'ud kiss the track of your feet upon the ground: Oh, + it's cruel to tell it to me; to say sich a thing to a man that his heart's + braakin' widin him for your sake; but, sir, you sed this minute that you + could defend him wid one lawyer?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, and with a cheap one, too, if you wish; but, in that case, I + would rather decline the thing altogether.” + </p> + <p> + “Why? why? sure if you can defind him chapely, isn't it so much saved? + isn't it the same as if you definded him at a higher rate? Sure, if one + lawyer tells the truth for the poor boy, ten or fifteen can do no more; + an' thin maybe they'd crass in an' puzzle one another if you hired too + many of them.” + </p> + <p> + “How would you feel, should your son be found guilty; you know the penalty + is his life. He will be executed.” + </p> + <p> + O'Brien could hear the old man clap his hands in agony, and in truth he + walked about wringing them as if his heart would burst. + </p> + <p> + “What will I do?” he exclaimed; “what will I do? I can't lose him, an' I + won't lose him! Lose him! oh God, oh God, it is to lose the best son and + only child that ever man had! Wouldn't it be downright murdher in me to + let him be lost if I could prevint it? Oh, if I was in his place, what + wouldn't he do for me, for the father that he always loved!” + </p> + <p> + The tears ran copiously down his furrowed cheeks; and his whole appearance + evinced such distraction and anguish as could rarely be witnessed. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what I'll do,” he added; “I'll give you fifty guineas after + my death if you'll defind him properly.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged,” replied the other; “but in matters of this kind we make no + such bargains.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll make it sixty, in case you don't axe it now.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you give me security that I'll survive you? Why, you are + tough-looking enough to outlive me.” + </p> + <p> + “Me tough!—no, God help me, my race is nearly ran; I won't be alive + this day twelve months—look at the differ atween us.” + </p> + <p> + “This is idle talk,” said the attorney; “determine on what you'll do; + really my time is valuable, and I am now wasting it to no purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Take the offer—depind on't it'll soon come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” said the other, coolly; “not at all; we might shut up shop if we + made such <i>post obit</i> bargains as that.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you,” said Fardorougha; “I'll tell you what;” his eyes gleamed + with a reddish, bitter light; and he clasped his withered hands together, + until the joints cracked, and the perspiration teemed from his pale, + sallow features; “I'll tell you,” he added—“I'll make it seventy!” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Aighty!” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Ninety!”—with a husky shriek + </p> + <p> + “No, no.” + </p> + <p> + “A hundhre'—a hundhre'—a hundhre',” he shouted; “a hundhre', + when I'm gone—when I'm gone!” + </p> + <p> + One solemn and determined No, that precluded all hopes of any such + arrangement, was the only reply. + </p> + <p> + The old man leaped up again, and looked impatiently and wildly and + fiercely about him. + </p> + <p> + “What are you?” he shouted; “what are you? You're a divil—a born + divil. Will nothing but my death satisfy you? Do you want to rob me—to + starve me—to murdher me? Don't you see the state I'm in by you? Look + at me—look at these thremblin' limbs—look at the sweat + powerin' down from my poor ould face! What is it you want? There—there's + my gray hairs to you. You have brought me to that—to more than that—I'm + dyin' this minute—I'm dyin'—oh, my boy—my boy, if I had + you here—ay, I'm—I'm—” + </p> + <p> + He staggered over on his seat, his eyes gleaming in a fixed and intense + glare at the attorney; his hands were clenched, his lips parched, and his + mummy-like cheeks sucked, as before, into his toothless jaws. In addition + to all this, there was a bitter white smile of despair upon his features, + and his thin gray locks, that were discomposed in the paroxysm by his own + hands, stood out in disorder upon his head. We question, indeed, whether + mere imagination could, without having actually witnessed it in real life, + conceive any object so frightfully illustrative of the terrible dominion + which the passion of avarice is capable of exercising over the human + heart. + </p> + <p> + “I protest to Heaven,” exclaimed the attorney, alarmed, “I believe the man + is dying—if not dead, he is motionless.” + </p> + <p> + “O'Donovan, what's the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + The old man's lips gave a dry, hard smack, then became desperately + compressed together, and his cheeks were drawn still further into his + jaws. At length he sighed deeply, and changed his fixed and motionless + attitude. + </p> + <p> + “He is alive, at all events,” said one of his young men. + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha turned his eyes upon the speaker, then upon his master, and + successively upon two other assistants who were in the office. + </p> + <p> + “What is this?” said he, “what is this?—I'm very weak—will you + get me a dhrink o' wather? God help me—God direct me! I'm an unhappy + man; get me a dhrink, for Heaven's sake! I can hardly spake, my mouth and + lips are so dry.” + </p> + <p> + The water having been procured, he drank it eagerly, and felt evidently + relieved. + </p> + <p> + “This business,” he continued, “about the money—I mane about my poor + boy. Connor, how will it be managed, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I have already told you that there is but one way of managing it, and + that is, as the young man's life is at stake, to spare no cost.” + </p> + <p> + “And I must do that?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought, at least, remember that he's an only son, and that if you lose + him—” + </p> + <p> + “Lose him!—I can't—I couldn't—I'd die—die—dead—” + </p> + <p> + “And by so shameful a death,” proceeded Cassidy, “you will not only be + childless, but you will have the bitter fact to reflect on that he died in + disgrace. You will blush to name him! What father would not make any + sacrifice to prevent his child from meeting such a fate? It's a trying + thing and a pitiable calamity to see a father ashamed to name the child + that he loves.” + </p> + <p> + The old man arose, and, approaching Cassidy, said, eagerly, “How much will + do? Ashamed to name you, alanna, Ghierna—Ghierna—ashamed to + name you, Connor! Oh! if the world knew you, as thore, as well as I an' + your poor mother knows you, they'd say that we ought to be proud to hear + your name soundin' in our ears. How much will do? for, may God stringthen + me, I'll do it.” + </p> + <p> + “I think about forty guineas; it may be more, and it may be less, but we + will say forty.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll give you an ordher for it on a man that's a good mark. Give me + pin an' paper, fast.” + </p> + <p> + “The paper was placed before him, and he held the pen in his hand for some + time, and, ere he wrote, turned a look of deep distress on Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + “God Almighty pity me!” said he; “you see—you see that I'm a poor + heart—broken creature—a ruined man I'll be—a ruined + man!” + </p> + <p> + “Think of your son, and of his situation.” + </p> + <p> + “It's before me—I know it is—to die like a dog behind a ditch + wid hunger!” + </p> + <p> + “Think of your son, I say, and, if possible, save him from a shameful + death.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Ay—yis—yis—surely—surely—oh, my poor + boy—my innocent boy—I will—I will do it.” + </p> + <p> + He then sat down, and, with a tremulous hand, and lips tightly drawn + together, wrote an order on P——, the county treasurer, for the + money. + </p> + <p> + Cassidy, on seeing it, looked alternately at the paper and the man for a + considerable time. + </p> + <p> + “Is P——your banker?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Every penny that I'm worth he has.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you're a ruined man,” he replied, with cool emphasis. “P—— + absconded the day before yesterday, and robbed half the county. Have you + no loose cash at home?” + </p> + <p> + “Robbed! who robbed?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, P——has robbed every man who was fool enough to trust + him; he's off to the Isle of Man, with the county funds in addition to the + other prog.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't mane to say,” replied Fardorougha, with a hideous calmness of + voice and manner; “you don't, you can't mane to say he has run off wid my + money?” + </p> + <p> + “I do; you'll never see a shilling of it, if you live to the age of a + Hebrew patriarch. See what it is to fix the heart upon money. You are now, + what you wish the world to believe you to be, a poor man.” + </p> + <p> + “Ho! ho!” howled the miser, “he darn't, he darn't—wouldn't God + consume him if he robbed the poor—wouldn't God stiffen him, and pin + him to the airth, if he attempted to run off wid the hard earnings of + strugglin' honest men? Where 'ud God be, an' him to dar to do it! But it's + a falsity, an' you're thryin' me to see how I'd bear it—it is, it + is, an' may Heaven forgive you!” + </p> + <p> + “It's as true as the Gospel,” replied the other; “why, I'm surprised you + didn't hear it before now—every one knows it—it's over the + whole country.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a lie—it's a lie!” he howled again; “no one dar to do such an + act. You have some schame in this—you're not a safe man; you're a + villain, an' nothin' else; but I'll soon know; which of these is my hat?” + </p> + <p> + “You are mad, I think,” said Cassidy. + </p> + <p> + “Get me my hat, I say; I'll soon know it; but sure the world's all in a + schame against me—all, all, young an' ould—where's my hat, I + say?” + </p> + <p> + “You have put it upon your head this moment,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “An' my stick?” + </p> + <p> + “It's in your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “The curse o' Heaven upon you,” he shrieked, “whether it's thrue or + false!” and, with a look that might scorch him to whom it was directed, he + shuffled in a wild and frantic mood out of the house. + </p> + <p> + “The man is mad,” observed Cassidy; “or, if not, he will soon be so; I + never witnessed such a desperate case of avarice. If ever the demon of + money lurked in any man's soul, it's in his. God bless me! God bless me! + it's dreadful! Richard, tell the gentleman in the dining-room I'm at + leisure to see him.” + </p> + <p> + The scene we have attempted to describe spared O'Brien the trouble of much + unpleasant inquiry, and enabled him to enter at once into the proposed + arrangements on behalf of Connor. Of course he did not permit his sister's + name to transpire, nor any trace whatsoever to appear, by which her + delicacy might be compromised, or her character involved. His interference + in the matter he judiciously put upon the footing of personal regard for + the young man, and his reluctance to be even the indirect means of + bringing him to a violent and shameful death. Having thus fulfilled Una's + instructions, he returned home, and relieved her of a heavy burthen by a + full communication of all that had been done. + </p> + <p> + The struggle hitherto endured by Fardoroug—he was in its own nature + sufficiently severe to render his sufferings sharp and pungent; still they + resembled the influence of local disease more than that of a malady which + prostrates the strength and grapples with the powers of the whole + constitution. The sensation he immediately felt, on hearing that his + banker had absconded with the gains of his penurious life, was rather a + stunning shock that occasioned for the moment a feeling of dull, and + heavy, and overwhelming dismay. It filled, nay, it actually distended his + narrow soul with an oppressive sense of exclusive misery that banished all + consideration for every person and thing extraneous to his individual + selfishness. In truth, the tumult of his mind was peculiarly wild and + anomalous. The situation of his son, and the dreadful fate that hung over + him, were as completely forgotten as if they did not exist. Yet there lay, + underneath his own gloomy agony, a remote consciousness of collateral + affliction, such as is frequently experienced by those who may be drawn, + by some temporary and present pleasure, from the contemplation of their + misery. We feel, in such cases, that the darkness is upon us, even while + the image of the calamity is not before the mind; nay, it sometimes + requires an effort to bring it back, when anxious to account for our + depression; but when it comes, the heart sinks with a shudder, and we + feel, that, although it ceased to engage our thoughts, we had been sitting + all the time beneath its shadow. For this reason, although Fardorougha's + own loss absorbed, in one sense, all his powers of suffering, still he + knew that something else pressed with additional weight upon his heart. Of + its distinct character, however, he was ignorant, and only felt that a + dead and heavy load of multiplied affliction bent him in burning anguish + to the earth. + </p> + <p> + There is something more or less eccentric in the gait and dress of every + miser. Fardorougha's pace was naturally slow, and the habit for which, in + the latter point, he had all his life been remarkable, was that of wearing + a great-coat thrown loosely about his shoulders. In summer it saved an + inside one, and, as he said, kept him cool and comfortable. That he seldom + or never put his arms into it arose from the fact that he knew it would + last a much longer period of time than if he wore it in the usual manner. + </p> + <p> + On leaving the attorney's office, he might be seen creeping along towards + the County Treasurer's, at a pace quite unusual to him; his hollow, + gleaming eyes were bent on the earth; his Gothamore about his shoulders; + his staff held with a tight desperate grip, and his whole appearance that + of a man frightfully distracted by the intelligence of some sudden + calamity. + </p> + <p> + He had not proceeded far on this hopeless errand, when many bitter + confirmations of the melancholy truth, by persons whom he met on their + return from P——'s residence, were afforded him. Even these, + however, were insufficient to satisfy him; he heard them with a vehement + impatience, that could not brook the bare possibility of the report being + true. His soul clung with the tenacity of a death—grip to the hope, + that however others might have suffered, some chance might, + notwithstanding, still remain in Ms particular favor. In the meantime, he + poured out curses of unexampled malignity against the guilty defaulter, on + whose head he invoked the Almighty's vengeance with a venomous fervor + which appalled all who heard him. Having reached the treasurer's house, a + scene presented itself that was by no means calculated to afford him + consolation. Persons of every condition, from the squireen and gentleman + farmer, to the humble widow and inexperienced orphan, stood in melancholy + groups about the deserted mansion, interchanging details of their losses, + their blasted prospects, and their immediate ruin. The cries of the widow, + who mourned for the desolation brought upon her and her now destitute + orphans, rose in a piteous wail to heaven, and the industrious fathers of + many struggling families, with pale faces and breaking hearts, looked in + silent misery upon the closed shutters and smokeless chimneys of their + oppressor's house, bitterly conscious that the laws of the boasted + constitution under which they lived, permitted the destroyer of hundreds + to enjoy, in luxury and security, the many thousands of which, at one fell + and rapacious swoop, he had deprived them. + </p> + <p> + With white, quivering lips and panting breath, Fardorougha approached and + joined them. + </p> + <p> + “What, what,” said he, in a broken sentence, “is this true—can it, + can it be true? Is the thievin' villain of hell gone? Has he robbed us, + ruined us, destroyed us?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, too thrue it is,” replied a farmer; “the dam' rip is off to that nest + of robbers, the Isle of Man; ay, he's gone! an' may all our bad luck past, + present, and to come, go with him, an' all he tuck!” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha looked at his informant as if he had been P——himself; + he then glared from one to another, whilst the white foam wrought up to + his lips by the prodigious force of his excitement. He clasped his hands, + then attempted to speak, but language had abandoned him. + </p> + <p> + “If one is to judge from your appearance, you have suffered heavily,” + observed the farmer. + </p> + <p> + The other stared at him with a kind of angry amazement for doubting it, or + it might be, for speaking so coolly of his loss. “Suffered!” said he, “ay, + ay, but did yeea thry the house? we'll see—suffered!—suffered!—we'll + see.” + </p> + <p> + He immediately shuffled over to the hall door, which he assaulted with the + eagerness of a despairing soul at the gate of heaven, throwing into each + knock such a character of impatience and apprehension, as one might + suppose the aforesaid soul to feel from a certain knowledge that the + devil's clutches were spread immediately behind, to seize and carry him to + perdition. His impetuosity, however, was all in vain; not even an echo + reverberated through the cold and empty walls, but, on the contrary, every + peal was followed by a most unromantic and ominous silence. + </p> + <p> + “That man appears beside himself,” observed another of the sufferers; + “surely, it he wasn't half-mad, he'd not expect to find any one in an + empty house!” + </p> + <p> + “Devil a much it signifies whether he's mad or otherwise,” responded a + neighbor. “I know him well; his name's Fardorougha Donovan, the miser of + Lisnamona, the biggest shkew that ever skinned a flint. If P——did + nothin' worse than fleece him, it would never stand between him an' the + blessin' o' Heaven.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page245.jpg" + alt="Page 245-- He Rattled, and Thumped, And Screamed " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + Fardorougha, in the mean time, finding that no response was given from the + front, passed hurriedly by an archway into the back court, where he made + similar efforts to get in by attempting to force the kitchen door. Every + entrance, however, had been strongly secured; he rattled, and thumped, and + screamed, as if P——himself had actually been within hearing, + but still to no purpose; he might as well have expected to extort a reply + from the grave. + </p> + <p> + When he returned to the group that stood on the lawn, the deadly + conviction that all was lost affected every joint of his body with a + nervous trepidation, that might have been mistaken for <i>delirium tremens</i>. + His eyes were full of terror, mingled with the impotent fury of hatred and + revenge; whilst over all now predominated for the first time such an + expression of horror and despair, as made the spectators shudder to look + upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Where was God,” said he, addressing them, and his voice, naturally thin + and wiry, now became lmsky and hollow, “where was God, to suffer this? to + suffer the poor to be ruined, and the rich to be made poor? Was it right + for the Almighty to look on an' let the villain do it? No—no—no; + I say no!” + </p> + <p> + The group around him shuddered at the daring blasphemy to which his + monstrous passion had driven him. Many females, who were in tears, + lamenting audibly, started, and felt their grief suspended for a moment by + this revolting charge against the justice of Providence. + </p> + <p> + “What do you all stand for here,” he proceeded, “like stocks an stones? + Why don't yees kneel with me, an' let us join in one curse; one, no, but + let us shower them down upon him in thousands—in millions; an' when + we can no longer spake them, let us think them. To the last hour of my + life my heart 'ill never be widout a curse for him; an' the last word + afore I go into the presence of God, 'll be a black, heavy blessin' from + hell against him an' his, sowl an' body, while a drop o' their bad blood's + upon the earth.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be blasphamin', honest man,” said a bystander; “if you've lost + money, that's no rason why you should fly in the face o' God for P——'s + roguery. Devil a one o' myself cares if I join you in a volley against the + robbin' scoundril, but I'd not take all the money the rip of hell ran away + wid, an' spake of God as you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Saver!” exclaimed Fardorougha, who probably heard not a word he said; + “I knew—I knew—I always felt it was before me—a dog's + death behind a ditch—my tongue out wid starvation and hunger, and it + was he brought me to it!” + </p> + <p> + He had already knelt, and was uncovered, his whitish hair tossed by the + breeze in confusion about a face on which was painted the fearful workings + of that giant spirit, under whose tremendous grasp he writhed and suffered + like a serpent in the talons of a vulture. In this position, with uplifted + and trembling arms, his face raised towards heaven, and his whole figure + shrunk firmly together by the intense malignity with which he was about to + hiss out his venomous imprecations against the defaulter, he presented at + least one instance in which the low, sordid vice of avarice rose to + something like wild grandeur, if not sublimity. + </p> + <p> + Having remained in this posture for some time, he clasped his withered + hands together and wrung them until the bones cracked; then rising up and + striking his stick bitterly upon the earth— + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” he exclaimed, “I can't get out the curses against him; but my + heart's full of them—they're in it—they're in it!—it's + black an' hot wid them; I feel them here—here—movin an if they + war alive, an' they'll be out.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the strength and impetuosity of his hatred, and such his + eagerness to discharge the whole quiver of his maledictions against the + great public delinquent, that, as often happens in cases of overwhelming + agitation, his faculties were paralyzed by the storm of passion which + raged within him. + </p> + <p> + Having risen to his feet, he left the group, muttering his wordless + malignity as he went along, and occasionally pausing to look back with the + fiery glare of a hyena at the house in which the robbery of his soul's + treasure had been planned and accomplished. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to say that the arrangements entered into with Cassidy, + by John O'Brien, were promptly and ably carried into effect. A rapid ride + soon brought the man of briefs and depositions to the prison, where the + unhappy Connor lay. The young man's story, though simple, was improbable, + and his version of the burning such as induced Cassidy, who knew little of + impressions and feelings in the absence of facts, to believe that no other + head than his ever concocted the crime. Still, from the manly sincerity + with which his young client spoke, he felt inclined to impute the act to a + freak of boyish malice and disappointment, rather than to a spirit of + vindictive rancor. He entertained no expectation whatsoever of Connor's + acquittal, and hinted to him that it was his habit in such cases to + recommend his clients to be prepared for the worst, without, at the same + time, altogether abolishing hope. There was, indeed, nothing to break the + chain of circumstantial evidence in which Flanagan had entangled him; he + had been at the haggard shortly before the conflagration broke out; he had + met Phil Curtis, and begged that man to conceal the fact of his having + seen him, and he had not slept in his own bed either on that or the + preceding night. It was to no purpose he affirmed that Flanagan himself + had borrowed from him, and worn, on the night in question, the shoes whose + prints were so strongly against him, or that the steel and tinder—box, + which were found in his pocket, actually belonged to his accuser, who must + have put them there without his knowledge. His case, in fact, was a bad + one, and he felt that the interview with his attorney left him more + seriously impressed with the danger of his situation, than he had been up + till that period. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” said he, when the instructions were completed, “you have seen + my father?” + </p> + <p> + “Everything is fully and liberally arranged,” replied the other, with + reservation; “your father has been with me to—day; in fact, I parted + with him only a few minutes before I left home. So far let your mind be + easy. The government prosecutes, which is something in your favor; and + now, good-by to you; for my part, I neither advise you to hope or despair. + If the worst comes to the worst, you must bear it like a man; and if we + get an acquittal, it will prove the more agreeable for its not being + expected.” + </p> + <p> + The unfortunate youth felt, after Cassidy's departure, the full force of + that dark and fearful presentiment which arises from the approach of the + mightiest calamity that can befall an innocent man—a public and + ignominious death, while in the very pride of youth, strength, and those + natural hopes of happiness which existence had otherwise promised. In him + this awful apprehension proceeded neither from the terror of judgment nor + of hell, but from that dread of being withdrawn from life, and of passing + down from the light, the enjoyments and busy intercourse of a breathing + and conscious world, into the silence and corruption of the unknown grave. + When this ghastly picture was brought near him by the force of his + imagination, he felt for a moment as if his heart had died away in him, + and his blood became congealed into ice. Should this continue, he knew + that human nature could not sustain it long, and he had already resolved + to bear his fate with firmness, whatever that fate might be. He then + reflected that he was innocent, and, remembering the practice of his + simple and less political forefathers, he knelt down and fervently + besought the protection of that, Being in whose hands are the issues of + life and death. + </p> + <p> + On rising from this act of heartfelt devotion, he experienced that support + which he required so much. The fear of death ceased to alarm him, and his + natural fortitude returned with more than its usual power to his support. + In this state of mind he was pacing his narrow room, when the door opened, + and his father, with a tottering step, entered and approached him. The son + was startled, if not terrified, at the change which so short a time had + wrought in the old man's appearance. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, father dear!” he exclaimed, as the latter threw his arms with a + tight and clinging grasp about him; “good heavens! what has happened to + change you so much for the worse? Why, if you fret this way about me, + you'll soon break your heart. Why will you fret, father, when you know I + am innocent? Surely, at the worst, it is better to die innocent than to + live guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said the old man, still clinging tenaciously to him, and looking + wildly into his face, “Connor, it's broke—my heart's broke at last. + Oh, Connor, won't you pity me when you hear it—won't you, Connor—oh, + when you hear it, Connor, won't you pity me? It's gone, it's gone, it's + gone—he's off, off—to that nest of robbers, the Isle of Man, + and has robbed me and half the county. P——has; I'm a ruined + man, a beggar, an' will die a dog's death.” + </p> + <p> + Connor looked down keenly into his father's face, and began to entertain a + surmise so terrible that the beatings of his heart were in a moment + audible to his own ear. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” he inquired, “in the name of God what is wrong with you? What is + it you spake of? Has P——gone off with your money? Sit down, + and don't look so terrified.” + </p> + <p> + “He has, Connor—robbed me an' half the county—he disappeared + the evenin' of the very day I left my last lodgment wid him; he's in that + nest of robbers, the Isle of Man, an' I'm ruined—ruined! Oh God! + Connor, how can I stand it? all my earnin's an' my savin's an' the fruits + of my industry in his pocket, an' upon his back, an' upon his bones! My + brain is reelin'—I dunna what I'm doin', nor what I'll do. To what + hand now can I turn myself? Who'll assist me! I dunna what I'm doin', nor + scarcely what I'm sayin'. My head's all in confusion. Gone! gone! gone! Oh + see the luck that has come down upon me! Above all men, why was I singled + out to be made a world's wondher of—why was I? What did I do? I + robbed no one; yet it's gone—an' see the death that's afore me! oh + God! oh God!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father, let it go—you have still your health; you have still + my poor mother to console you; and I hope you'll soon have myself, too; + between us well keep you comfortable, and, if you'll allow us to take our + own way, more so than ever you did—” + </p> + <p> + Pardorougha started, as if struck by some faint but sudden recollection. + All at once he looked with amazement around the room, and afterwards with + a pause of inquiry, at his son. At length, a light of some forgotten + memory appeared to flash at once across his brain; his countenance changed + from the wild and unsettled expression which it bore, to one more stamped + with the earnest humanity of our better nature. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Connor!” he at last exclaimed, putting his two hands into those of + his son: “can you pity me, an' forgive me? You see, my poor boy, how I'm + sufferin', an' you see that I can't—I won't—be able to bear up + against this long.” + </p> + <p> + The tears here ran down his worn and hollow cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he proceeded, “how could I forget you, my darlin' boy? But I hardly + think my head's right. If I had you with me, an' before my eyes, you'd + keep my heart right, an' give me strength, which I stand sorely in need + of. Saints in glory! how could I forget you, acushla, an' what now can I + do for you? Not a penny have I to pay lawyer, or attorney, or any one, to + defind you at your trial, and it so near!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, haven't you settled all that with Mr. Cassidy, the attorney?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit, achora machree, not a bit; I was wid him this day, an' had + agreed, but whin I wint to give him an ordher on P——, he—oh + saints above! he whistled at me an' it—an' tould me that P——was + gone to that nest o' robbers, the Isle of Man.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said he, feebly, “I am unwell—unwell—come and sit + down by me.” + </p> + <p> + “You are too much distressed every way, father,” said his son, taking his + place upon his iron bedstead beside him. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” said Fardorougha, calmly; “I am too much distressed—sit + nearer me, Connor. I wish your mother was here, but she wasn't able to + come, she's unwell too; a good mother she was, Connor, and a good wife.” + </p> + <p> + The son was struck, and somewhat alarmed, by this sudden and extraordinary + calmness of the old man. + </p> + <p> + “Father dear,” said he, “don't be too much disheartened—all will be + well yet, I hope—my trust in God is strong.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope all will be well,” replied the old man, “sit nearer me, an' + Connor, let me lay my head over upon your breast. I'm thinkin' a great + dale. Don't the world say, Connor, that I am a bad man?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care what the world says; no one in it ever durst say as much to + me, father dear.” + </p> + <p> + The old man looked up affectionately, but shook his head apparently in + calm but rooted sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “Put your arms about me, Connor, and keep my head a little more up; I'm + weak an' tired, an', someway, spakin's a throuble to me; let me think for + a while.” + </p> + <p> + “Do so, father,” said the son, with deep compassion; “God knows but you're + sufferin' enough to wear you out.” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” said Fardorougha, “it is.” A silence of some minutes ensued, + during which, Connor perceived that the old man, overcome with care and + misery, had actually! fallen asleep with his head upon his bosom. This + circumstance, though by no means extraordinary, affected him very much. On + surveying the pallid face of his father, and the worn, thread—like + veins that ran along his temples, and calling to mind the love of the old + man for himself, which even avarice, in its deadliest power, failed to + utterly overcome, he felt all the springs of his affection loosened, and + his soul vibrated with a tenderness towards him, such as no situation in + their past lives had ever before created. + </p> + <p> + “If my fate chances to be an untimely one, father dear,” he slowly + murmured, “we'll soon meet in another place; for I know that you will not + long live after me.” + </p> + <p> + He then thought with bitterness of his mother and Una, and wondered at the + mystery of the trial to which he was exposed. + </p> + <p> + The old man's slumber, however, was not dreamless, nor so refreshing as + the exhaustion of a frame shattered by the havoc of contending principles + required. On the contrary, it was disturbed by heavy groans, quick + startings, and those twitchings of the limbs which betoken a restless mood + of mind, and a nervous system highly excited. In the course of half an + hour, the symptoms of his inward commotion became more apparent. From + being, as at first, merely physical, they assumed a mental character, anil + passed from ejaculations and single words, to short sentences, and + ultimately to those of considerable length. + </p> + <p> + “Gone!” he exclaimed, “gone! Oh God my curse—starved—dog—wid + my tongue out!” + </p> + <p> + This dread of starvation, which haunted him through life, appeared in his + dream still to follow him like a demon. + </p> + <p> + “I'm dyin',” he said, “I'm dyin' wid hunger—will no one give me a + morsel? I was robbed an' have no money—don't you see me starvin'? + I'm cuttin' wid hunger—five days without mate—bring me mate, + for God's sake—mate, mate, mate!—I'm gaspin—my tongue's + out; look at me, like a dog, behind this ditch, an' my tongue out!” + </p> + <p> + The son at this period would have awoke him, but he became more composed, + for a time, and enjoyed apparently a refreshing sleep. Still, it soon was + evident that he dreamt, and as clear that a change had come o'er the + spirit of his dream. + </p> + <p> + “Who'll prevent me!” he exclaimed. “Isn't he my son—our only child? + Let me alone—I must, I must—what's my life?—take it, an' + let him live.” + </p> + <p> + The tears started in Connor's eyes, and he pressed his father to his + heart. + </p> + <p> + “Don't hould me,” he proceeded. “O God! here, I'll give all I'm worth, an' + save him! O, let me, thin—let me but kiss him once before he dies; + it was I, it was myself that murdhered him—all might 'a been well; + ay, it was I that murdhered you, Connor, my brave hoy, an' have I you in + my arms? O, aviek agus asthore machree, it was I that murdhered you, by my—but + they're takin' him—they're bearin' him away to—” + </p> + <p> + He started, and awoke; but so terrific had been his dream, that on opening + his eyes he clasped Connor in his arms, and exclaimed,— + </p> + <p> + “No no, I'll hould him till you cut my grip; Connor, avick machree, hould + to me!” + </p> + <p> + “Father, father, for God's sake, think a minute, you wor only dreaming.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh—what—where am I? Oh, Connor, darling, if you knew the + dhrames I had—I thought you wor on the scaffie; but thanks be to the + Saver, it was only a dhrame!” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more, father, nothing more; but for God's sake, keep your mind + aisy. Trust in God, father, everything's in <i>His</i> hands; if; it's His + will to make us suffer, we ought to submit; and if it's not His will, He + surely can bring us out of all our throubles. That's the greatest comfort + I have.” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha once more became calm, but still there was on his countenance, + which was mournful and full of something else than simple sorrow, some + deeply fixed determination, such as it was difficult to develop. + </p> + <p> + “Connor, achora,” said he, “I must lave you, for there's little time to be + lost. What attorney would you wish me to employ? I'll go home and sell + oats and a cow or two. I've done you harm enough—more than you know—but + now I'll spare no cost to get you out of this business. Connor, the tears + that I saw awhile agone run down your cheeks cut me to the heart.” + </p> + <p> + The son then informed him that a friend had taken proper measures for his + defence, and that any further interference on his part would only create + confusion and delay. He also entreated his father to make no allusion + whatsoever to this circumstance, and added, “that he himself actually knew + not the name of the friend in question, but that, as the matter stood, he + considered even a surmise to be a breach of confidence that might be + indelicate and offensive. After the trial, you can and ought to pay the + expenses, and not be under an obligation to any one of so solemn a kind as + that.” He then sent his affectionate love and duty to his mother, at whose + name his eyes were again filled with tears, and begged the old man to + comfort and support her with the utmost care and tenderness. As she was + unwell, he requested him to dissuade her against visiting him till after + the trial, lest an interview might increase her illness, and render her + less capable of bearing up under an unfavorable sentence, should such be + the issue of the prosecution. Having then bade farewell to, and embraced + the old man, the latter departed with more calmness and fortitude than he + had up to that period displayed. + </p> + <p> + When Time approaches the miserable with calamity in his train, his opinion + is swifter than that of the eagle; but, alas! when carrying them towards + happiness, his pace is slower than is that of the tortoise. The only three + persons on earth, whose happiness was involved in that of O'Donovan, found + themselves, on the eve of the assizes, overshadowed by a dreariness of + heart, that was strong in proportion to the love they bore him. The dead + calm which had fallen on Fardorougha was absolutely more painful to his + wife than would have been the paroxysms that resulted from his lust of + wealth. Since his last interview with Connor, he never once alluded to the + loss of his money, unless abruptly in his dreams, but there was stamped + upon his whole manner a gloomy and mysterious composure, which, of itself, + wofully sank her spirits, independently of the fate which impended over + their son. The change, visible on both, and the breaking down of their + strength were indeed pitiable. + </p> + <p> + As for Una, it would be difficult to describe her struggle between + confidence in his innocence, and apprehension of the law, which she knew + had often punished the guiltless instead of the criminal. 'Tis true she + attempted to assume, in the eyes of others, a fortitude which belied her + fears, and even affected to smile at the possibility of her lover's honor + and character suffering any tarnish from the ordeal to which they were + about to be submitted. Her smile, however, on such occasions, was a + melancholy one, and the secret tears she shed might prove, as they did to + her brother, who was alone privy to her grief, the extent of those terrors + which, notwithstanding her disavowal of them, wrung her soul so bitterly. + Day after day her spirits became more and more depressed, till, as the + crisis of Connor's fate arrived, the roses had altogether flown from her + cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, now that the trial was at hand, public sympathy turned rapidly and + strongly in his favor; his father had lost that wealth, the acquisition of + which earned him so heavy a portion of infamy; and, as he had been + sufficiently punished in his own person, they did not think it just to + transfer any portion of the resentment borne against him to a son who had + never participated in his system of oppression. They felt for Connor now + on his own account, and remembered only his amiable and excellent + character. In addition to this, the history of the mutual attachment + between him and Una having become the topic of general conversation, the + rash act for which he stood committed was good-humoredly resolved into a + foolish freak of love; for which it would be a thousand murders to take + away his life. In such mood were the public and the parties most + interested in the event of our story, when the morning dawned of that + awful day which was to restore Connor O'Donovan to the hearts that loved + him so well, or to doom him, a convicted felon, to a shameful and + ignominious death. + </p> + <p> + At length the trial came on, and our unhappy prisoner, at the hour of + eleven o'clock, was placed at the bar of his country to stand the brunt of + a government prosecution. Common report had already carried abroad the + story of Una's love and his, many interesting accounts of which had got + into the papers of the day. When he stood forward, therefore, all eyes + were eagerly riveted upon him; the judge glanced at him with calm, + dispassionate scrutiny, and the members of the bax, especially the + juniors, turned round, surveyed him through their glasses with a gaze in + which might be read something more than that hard indifference which + familiarity with human crime and affliction ultimately produces even in + dispositions most human and amiable. No sooner had the curiosity of the + multitude been gratified, than a murmur of pity, blended slightly with + surprise and approbation, ran lowly through the court-house. One of the + judges whispered a few words to his brother, and the latter again surveyed + Connor with a countenance in which were depicted admiration and regret. + The counsel also chatted to each other in a low tone, occasionally turning + round and marking his deportment and appearance with increasing interest. + </p> + <p> + Seldom, probably never, had a more striking, perhaps a more noble figure, + stood at the bar of that court. His locks were rich and brown; his + forehead expansive, and his manly features remarkable for their symmetry; + his teeth were regular and white, and his dark eye full of a youthful + lustre, which the dread of no calamity could repress. Neither was his + figure, which was of the tallest, inferior in a single point to so fine a + countenance. As he stood, at his full height of six feet, it was + impossible not to feel deeply influenced in his favor, especially after + having witnessed the mournful but dignified composure of his manner, + equally remote from indifference or dejection. He appeared, indeed, to + view in its proper light the danger of the position in which he stood, but + he viewed it with the calm, unshrinking energy of a brave man who is + always prepared for the worst. Indeed, there might be observed upon his + broad, open brow a loftiness of bearing such as is not unfrequently + produced by a consciousness of innocence, and the natural elevation of + mind which results from a sense of danger; to which we may add that inward + scorn which is ever felt for baseness, by those who are degraded to the + necessity of defending themselves against the villany of the malignant and + profligate. + </p> + <p> + When called upon to plead to the indictment, he uttered the words “not + guilty” in a full, firm and mellow voice, that drew the eyes of the + spectators once more upon him, and occasioned another slight hum of + sympathy and admiration. No change of color was observable on his + countenance, or any other expression, save the lofty composure to which we + have just alluded. + </p> + <p> + The trial at length proceeded; and, after a long and able statement from + the Attorney-General, Bartle Flanagan was called up on the table. The + prisoner, whose motions were keenly observed, betrayed, on seeing him, + neither embarrassment nor agitation; all that could be perceived was a + more earnest and intense light in his eyes, as they settled upon his + accuser. Flanagan detailed, with singular minuteness and accuracy, the + whole progress of the crime from its first conception to its perpetration. + Indeed, had he himself been in the dock, and his evidence against Connor a + confession of his own guilt, it would, with some exceptions, have been + literally true. He was ably cross-examined, but no tact, or experience, or + talent, on the part of the prisoner's counsel, could, in any important + degree, shake his testimony. The ingenuity with which he laid and + conducted the plot was astonishing, as was his foresight, and the + precaution he adopted against detection. Cassidy, Connor's attorney, had + ferreted out the very man from whom he purchased the tinder-box, with a + hope of proving that it was not the prisoner's property but his own; yet + this person, who remembered the transaction very well, assured him that + Flanagan said he procured it by the desire of Fardorougha Donovan's son. + </p> + <p> + During his whole evidence, he never once raised his eye to look upon the + prisoner's face, until he was desired to identify him. He then turned + round, and, standing with the rod in his hand, looked for some moments + upon his victim. His dark brows got black as night, whilst his cheeks were + blanched to the hue of ashes—the white smile as before sat upon his + lips, and his eyes, in which there blazed the unsteady fire of a + treacherous and cowardly heart, sparkled with the red turbid glare of + triumph and vengeance. He laid the rod upon Connor's head, and they gazed + at each other face to face, exhibiting as striking a contrast as could be + witnessed. The latter stood erect and unshaken—his eye calmly bent + upon that of his foe, but with a spirit in it that seemed to him alone by + whom it was best understood, to strike dismay into the very soul of + falsehood within him. The villain's eyes could not withstand the glance of + Connor's—they fell, and his whole countenance assumed such a blank + and guilty stamp, that an old experienced barrister, who watched them + both, could not avoid saying, that if he had his will they should exchange + situations. + </p> + <p> + “I would not hang a dog,” he whispered, “on that fellow's evidence—he + has guilt in his face.” + </p> + <p> + When asked why he ran away on meeting Phil. Curtis, near O'Brien's house, + on their return that night, while Connor held his ground, he replied that + it was very natural he should run away, and not wish to be seen after + having assisted at such a crime. In reply to another question, he said it + was as natural that Connor should have ran away also, and that he could + not account for it, except by the fact that God always occasions the + guilty to commit some oversight, by which they may be brought to + punishment. These replies, apparently so rational and satisfactory, + convinced Connor's counsel that his case was hopeless, and that no skill + or ingenuity on their part could succeed in breaking down Flanagan's + evidence. + </p> + <p> + The next witness called was Phil. Curtis, whose testimony corroborated + Bartle's in every particular, and gave to the whole trial a character of + gloom and despair. The constables who applied his shoes to the footmarks + were then produced, and swore in the clearest manner as to their + corresponding. They then deposed to finding the tinder-box in his pocket, + according to the information received from Flanagan, every tittle of which + they found to be remarkably correct. + </p> + <p> + There was only one other witness now necessary to complete the chain + against him, and he was only produced because Biddy Nulty, the servant—maid, + positively stated, and actually swore, when previously examined, that she + was ignorant whether Connor slept in his father's house on the night in + question or not. There was no alternative, therefore, but to produce the + father; and Fardorougha Donovan was consequently forced to become an + evidence against his own son. + </p> + <p> + The old man's appearance upon the table excited deep commiseration for + both, and the more so when the spectators contemplated the rooted sorrow + which lay upon the wild and wasted features of the woe-worn father. Still + the old man was composed and calm; but his calmness was in an + extraordinary degree mournful and touching. “When he, sat down, after + having been sworn, and feebly wiped the dew from his thin temples, many + eyes were already filled with tears. When the question was put to him if + he remembered the night laid in the indictment, he replied that he did. + </p> + <p> + “Did the prisoner at the bar sleep at home on that night?” + </p> + <p> + The old man looked into the face of the counsel with such an eye of + deprecating entreaty, as shook the voice in which the question was + repeated. He then turned about, and, taking a long gaze at his son, rose + up, and, extending his hands to the judges, exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “My lords, my lords! he is my only son—my only child!” + </p> + <p> + These words were followed by a pause in the business of the court, and a + dead silence of more than a minute. + </p> + <p> + “If justice,” said the judge, “could on an occasion waive her claim to a + subordinate link in the testimony she requires, it would certainly be in a + case so painful and affecting as this. Still, we cannot permit personal + feeling, however amiable, or domestic attachment, however strong, to + impede her progress when redressing public wrong. Although the duty be + painful, and we admit that such a duty is one of unexampled agony, yet it + must be complied with; and you consequently will answer the question which + the counsel has put to you. The interests of society require such + sacrifices, and they must be made.” + </p> + <p> + The old man kept his eyes fixed on the judge while he spoke, but when he + had ceased he again fixed them on his son. + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he exclaimed again, with clasped hands, “I can't, I can't!” + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing criminal, or improper, or sinful in it,” replied the + judge; “on the contrary, it is your duty, both as a Christian and a man. + Remember, you have this moment sworn to tell the truth, and the whole + truth; you consequently must keep your oath.” + </p> + <p> + “What you say, sir, may be right, an' of coorse is; but oh, my lord, I'm + not able; I can't get out the words to hang my only boy. If I said + anything to hurt him, my heart 'ud break before your eyes. May be you + don't know the love of a father for an only son?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, my lords,” observed the attorney-general, “it would be desirable + to send for a clergyman of his own religion, who might succeed in + prevailing on him to—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” interrupted Fardorougha; “my mind's made up; a word against him will + never come from my lips, not for priest or friar. I'd die widout the + saykerment sooner.” + </p> + <p> + “This is trifling with the court,” said the judge, assuming an air of + severity, which, however, he did not feel. “We shall be forced to commit + you to prison unless you give evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Fardorougha, meekly, but firmly, “I am willin' to go to + prison—I am willin' to die with him, if he is to die, but I neither + can nor will open my lips against him. If I thought him guilty I might; + but I know he is innocent—my heart knows it; an' am I to back the + villain that's strivin' to swear his life away? No, Connor avourneen, + whatever they do to you, your father will have no hand in it.” + </p> + <p> + The court, in fact, were perplexed in the extreme. The old man was not + only firm, from motives of strong attachment, but intractable from an + habitual narrowness of thought, which prevented him from taking that + comprehensive view of justice and judicial authority which might overcome + the repugnance of men less obstinate from ignorance of legal usages. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you for the last time,” said the judge, “will you give your + evidence? because, if you refuse, the court will feel bound to send you to + prison.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, my lord! that's a relief to my heart. Anything, anything, + but to say a word against a boy that, since the day he was born, never + vexed either his mother or myself. If he gets over this, I have much to + make up to him; for, indeed, I wasn't the father to him that I ought. + Avick machree, now I feel it, may be whin it's too late.” + </p> + <p> + These words affected all who heard them, many even to tears. + </p> + <p> + “I have no remedy,” observed the judge. “Tipstaff, take away the witness + to prison. It is painful to me,” he added, in a broken voice, “to feel + compelled thus to punish you for an act which, however I may respect the + motives that dictate it, I cannot overlook. The ends of justice cannot be + frustrated.” + </p> + <p> + “Mylord,” exclaimed the prisoner, “don't punish the old man for refusing + to speak against me. His love for me is so strong that I know he couldn't + do it. I will state the truth myself, but spare him. I did not sleep in my + own bed on the night Mr. O' Brien's haggard was burned, nor on the night + before it. I slept in my father's barn, with Flanagan; both times at his + own request but I did not then suspect his design in asking me.” + </p> + <p> + “This admission, though creditable to your affection and filial duty, was + indiscreet,” observed the judge. “Whatever you think might be serviceable, + suggest to your attorney, who can communicate it to your counsel.” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said Connor, “I could not see my father punished for loving me + as he does an' besides I have no wish to conceal anything. If the whole + truth could be known I would stand but a short time where I an nor would + Flanagan be long out of it.” + </p> + <p> + There is an earnest and impressive tone in truth, especially when spoken + under circumstances of great difficulty, where it is rather + disadvantageous to him who utters it, that in many instances produces + conviction by an inherent candor which all feel, without as process of + reasoning or argument. Theis was in those few words a warmth of affection + towards his father, and a manly simplicity heart, each of which was duly + appreciated by the assembly about him, who felt, without knowing why, the + indignant scorn of falsehood that so emphatically pervaded his + expressions. It was indeed impossible to hear them, and look upon his + noble countenance and figure, without forgetting the humbleness of his + rank in life, and feeling for him a marked deference and respect. + </p> + <p> + The trial then proceeded; but, alas! the hopes of Connor's friends + abandoned them at its conclusion; for although the judge's charge was as + favorable as the nature of the evidence permitted, yet it was quite clear + that the jury had only one course to pursue, and that was to bring in a + conviction. After the lapse of about ten minutes, they returned to the + jury—box, and, as the foreman handed down their verdict, a feather + might have been heard falling in the court. The faces of the spectators + got pale, and the hearts of strong men beat as if the verdict about to be + announced were to fall upon themselves, and not upon the prisoner. It is + at all times an awful and trying ceremony to witness, but on this occasion + it was a much more affecting one than had occurred in that court for many + years. As the foreman handed down the verdict, Connor's eye followed the + paper with the same calm resolution which he displayed during the trial. + On himself there was no change visible, unless the appearance of two round + spots, one on each cheek, of a somewhat deeper red than the rest. At + length, in the midst of the dead silence, pronounced in a voice that + reached to the remotest extremity of the court, was heard the fatal + sentence—“Guilty;” and afterwards, in a less distinct manner—“with + our strongest and most earnest recommendation for mercy, in consequence of + his youth and previous good character.” The wail and loud sobbings of the + female part of the crowd, and the stronger but more silent grief of the + men, could not, for many minutes, be repressed by any efforts of the court + or its officers. In the midst of this, a little to the left of the dock, + was an old man, whom those around him were conveying in a state of + insensibility out of the court; and it was obvious that, from motives of + humane consideration for the prisoner, they endeavored to prevent him from + ascertaining that it was his father. In this, however, they failed; the + son's eye caught a glimpse of his grey locks, and it was observed that his + cheek paled for the first time, indicating, by a momentary change, that + the only evidence of agitation he betrayed was occasioned by sympathy in + the old man's sorrows, rather than by the contemplation of his own fate. + </p> + <p> + The tragic spirit of the day, however, was still to deepen, and a more + stunning blow, though less acute in its agony, was to fall upon the + prisoner. The stir of the calm and solemn jurors, as they issued out of + their room; the hushed breaths of the spectators, the deadly silence that + prevails, and the appalling announcement of the word “Guilty,” are + circumstances that test in man fortitude, more even than the passing of + the fearful sentence itself. In the latter case, hope is banished, and the + worst that can happen known; the mind is, therefore, thrown back upon its + last energies, which give it strength in the same way in which the + death-struggle frequently arouses the muscular action of the I body—an + unconscious power or resistance that forces the culprit's heart to take + refuge in the first and strongest instincts of its nature, the undying + principle of self-preservation. No sooner was the verdict returned and + silence obtained, than the judge, now deeply affected, put on the black + cap, at which a low wild murmur of stifled grief and pity rang through the + court-house; but no sooner was his eye bent on the prisoner than their + anxiety to hear the sentence hushed them once more into the stillness of + the grave. The prisoner looked upon him with an open but melancholy gaze, + which, from the candid and manly character of his countenance, was + touching in the extreme. + </p> + <p> + “Connor O'Donovan,” said the judge, “have you anything to say why sentence + of death should not be passed upon you?” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” he replied, “I can say nothing to prevent it. I am prepared for + it. I know I must bear it, and I hope I will bear it as a man ought, that + feels his heart free from even a thought of the crime he is to die for. I + have nothing more to say.” + </p> + <p> + “You have this day been found guilty,” proceeded the judge, “and, in the + opinion of the court, upon clear and satisfactory evidence, of a crime + marked by a character of revenge, which I am bound to say must have + proceeded from a very malignant spirit. It was a wanton act, for the + perpetration of which your motives were so inadequate, that one must feel + at a loss to ascertain the exact principle on which you committed it. It + was also not only a wicked act, but one so mean, that a young man bearing + the character of spirit and generosity which you have hitherto borne, as + appears from the testimony of those respectable persons who this day have + spoken in your favor, ought to have scorned to contemplate it even for a + moment. Had the passion you entertained for the daughter of the man you so + basely injured, possessed one atom of the dignity, disinterestedness, or + purity of true affection, you never could have stooped to any act + offensive to the object of your love, or to those even in the remotest + degree related to her. The example, consequently, which you have held out + to society, is equally vile and dangerous. A parent discharges the most + solemn and important of all duties, when disposing of his children in + marriage, because by that act he seals their happiness or misery in this + life, and most probably in that which is to come. By what tie, by what + duty, by what consideration, is not a parent bound to consult the best + interests of those beloved beings whom he has brought into the world, and + who, in a great measure, depend upon him as their dearest relative, their + guardian by the voice of nature, for the fulfilment of those expectations + upon which depend the principal comforts and enjoyments of life? Reason, + religion, justice, instinct, the whole economy of nature, both in man and + the inferior animals, all teach him to secure for them, as far as in him + lies, the greatest sum of human happiness; but if there be one duty more + sacred and tender than another, it is that which a parent is called upon + to exercise on behalf of a daughter. The son, impressed by that original + impulse which moves him to assume a loftier place in the conduct of life, + and gifted also with a stronger mind, and clearer judgment, to guide him + in its varied transactions, goes abroad into society, and claims for + himself a bolder right of thought and a wider range of action, while + determining an event which is to exercise, as marriage does, such an + important influence upon his own future condition, and all the relations + that may arise out of it. From this privilege the beautiful and delicate + framework of woman's moral nature debars her, and she is consequently + forced, by the graces of her own modesty—by the finer texture of her + mind—by her greater purity and gentleness—in short, by all her + virtues, into a tenderer and more affecting dependence upon the judgment + and love of her natural guardians, whose pleasure is made, by a wise + decree of God, commensurate with their duty in providing for her wants and + enjoyments. There is no point of view in which the parental character + shines forth with greater beauty than that in which it appears while + working for and promoting the happiness of a daughter. But you, it would + seem, did not think so. You punished the father by a dastardly and unmanly + act, for guarding the future peace and welfare of a child so young, and so + dear to him. What would become of society if this exercise of a parent's + right on behalf of his daughter were to be visited upon him as a crime, by + every vindictive and disappointed man, whose affection for them he might, + upon proper grounds, decline to sanction? Yet it is singular, and, I + confess, almost inexplicable to me at least, why you should have rushed + into the commission of such an act. The brief period of your existence has + been stained by no other crime. On the contrary, you have maintained a + character far above your situation in life—a character equally + remarkable for gentleness, spirit, truth, and affection—all of which + your appearance and bearing have this day exhibited. Your countenance + presents no feature expressive of ferocity, or of those headlong + propensities which lead to outrage; and I must confess, that on no other + occasion in my judicial life have I ever felt my judgment and my feelings + so much at issue. I cannot doubt your guilt, but I shed those tears that + it ever existed, and that a youth of so much promise should be cut down + prematurely by the strong arm of necessary justice, leaving his bereaved + parents bowed down with despair that can never be comforted. Had they + another son—or another child, to whom their affections could turn—” + </p> + <p> + Here the judge felt it necessary to pause, in consequence of his emotions. + Strong feelings had, indeed, spread through the whole court, in which, + while he ceased, could be heard low moanings, and other symptoms of acute + sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “It is now your duty to forget every earthly object on which your heart + may have been fixed, and to seek that source of consolation and mercy + which can best sustain and comfort you. Go with a penitent heart to the + throne of your Redeemer, who, if your repentance be sincere, will in no + wise cast you out. Unhappy youth, prepare yourself, let me implore you, + for an infinitely greater and more awful tribunal than this. There, should + the judgment be in your favor, you will learn that the fate, which has cut + you off in the bloom of early life, will bring an accession of happiness + to your being for which no earthly enjoyment here, however prolonged or + exalted, could compensate you. The recommendation of the jury to the mercy + of the crown, in consideration of your youth and previous good conduct, + will not be overlooked; but in the mean time the court is bound to + pronounce upon you the sentence of the law, which is, that you be taken + from the prison from which you came, on the eighth of next month, at the + hour of ten o'clock in the forenoon, to the front drop of the jail, and + there hanged by the neck, until you be dead; and may God have mercy on + your soul!” + </p> + <p> + “My lord,” said the prisoner, unmoved in voice or in manner, unless it + might be that both expressed more decision and energy than he had shown + during any other part of the trial; “my lord, I am now a condemned man, + but if I stood with the rope about my neck, ready to die, I would not + exchange situations with the man that has: been my accuser. My lord, I can + forgive him, and I ought, for I know he has yet to die, and must meet his + God. As for myself, I am thankful that I have not such a conscience as his + to bring before my Judge; and for this reason I am not afraid to die.” + </p> + <p> + He was then removed amidst a murmur of grief, as deep and sincere as was + ever expressed for a human being under circumstances of a similar + character. After having! entered the prison, he was about to turn along a + passage which led to the apartment hitherto allotted to him. + </p> + <p> + “This way,” said the turnkey, “this way; God knows I would be glad to let + you stop in the room you had, but I haven't the power. We must put you + into one of the condemned cells; but by —-, it'll go hard if I don't + stretch a little to make you as comfortable I as possible. + </p> + <p> + “Take no trouble,” said Connor, “take no trouble. I care now but little + about my own comfort; but if you wish to oblige me, bring me my father. + Oh, my mother, my mother!—you, I doubt, are struck down already!” + </p> + <p> + “She was too ill to attend the trial to-day,” replied the turnkey. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” said Connor; “but as she's not here, bring me my father. Send + out a messenger for him, and be quick, for I wont rest till I see him—he + wants comfort—the old man's heart will break.” + </p> + <p> + “I heard them say,” replied the turnkey, after they had entered the cell + allotted to him, “that he was in a faint at Mat Corrigan's public house, + but that he had recovered. I'll go myself and bring him in to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” said Connor, “an' leave us the moment you bring him.” + </p> + <p> + It was more than an hour before the man I returned, holding Fardorougha by + the arm, and, after having left him in the cell, he instantly locked it + outside, and withdrew as he had been desired. Connor ran to support his + tottering steps; and wofully indeed did unfortunate parent stand in need + of his assistance. In the picture presented by Fardorougha the unhappy + young man forgot in a moment his own miserable and gloomy fate. There + blazed in his father's eyes an excitement at once dead and wild—a + vague fire without character, yet stirred by an incomprehensible energy + wholly beyond the usual manifestations of thought or suffering. The son on + beholding him shuddered, and not for the first time, for he had on one or + two occasions before become apprehensive that his father's mind might, if + strongly pressed, be worn down, by the singular conflict of which it was + that scene, to that most frightful of all maladies—insanity. As the + old man, however, folded him in his feeble arms, and attempted to express + what he felt, the unhappy boy groaned aloud, and felt even in the depth of + his cell, a blush of momentary shame suffuse his cheek and brow. His + father, notwithstanding the sentence that had been so shortly before + passed upon his son—that father, he perceived to be absolutely + intoxicated, or, to use a more appropriate expression, decidedly drunk. + There was less blame, however, to be attached to Fardorougha on this + occasion, than Connor imagined. When the old man swooned in the + court-house, he was taken by his neighbors to a public-house, where he lay + for some minutes in a state of insensibility. On his recovery he was plied + with burnt whiskey, as well to restore his strength and prevent a relapse, + as upon the principle that it would enable him to sustain with more + firmness the dreadful and shocking destiny which awaited his son. Actuated + by motives of mistaken kindness, they poured between two and three glasses + of this fiery cordial down his throat, which, as he had not taken so much + during the lapse of thirty years before, soon reduced the feeble old man + to the condition in which we have described him when entering the gloomy + cell of the prisoner. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Connor, “in the name of Heaven above, who or what has put + you into this dreadful state, especially when we consider the hard, hard + fate that is over us, and upon us?” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” returned Fardorougha, not perceiving the drift of his question, + “Connor, my son, I'll hang—hang him, that's one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “Who are you spaking about?” + </p> + <p> + “The villain sentence was passed on to—to—day. He'll swing—swing + for the robbery; P——e will. We got him back out of that nest + of robbers, the Isle o' Man—o' Man they call it—that he made + off to, the villain!” + </p> + <p> + “Father dear, I'm sorry to see you in this state on sich a day—sich + a black day to us. For your sake I am. What will the world say of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, I'm in great spirits all out, exceptin' for something that I + forget, that—that—li—lies heavy upon me. That I mayn't + sin, but I am—I am, indeed—for now that we've cotch him, we'll + hang the villain up. Ha, ha, ha, it's a pleasant sight to see sich a + fellow danglin' from a rope!” + </p> + <p> + “Father, sit down here, sit down here upon this bad and comfortless bed, + and keep yourself quiet for a little. Maybe you'll get better soon. Oh, + why did you drink, and us in such trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll not sit down; I'm very well able to stand,” said he, tottering + across the room. “The villain thought to starve me, Connor, but you heard + the sentence that was passed on him to-day. Where's Honor, from me? she'll + be glad, whin—whin she hears it, and my son, Connor, will too—but + he's, he's—where is Connor?—bring me, bring me to Connor. Ah, + avourneen, Honor's heart's breaking for him—'t any rate, the + mother's heart—the mother's heart—she's laid low wid an + achin', sorrowful head for her boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, for God's sake, will you try and rest a little? If you could + sleep, father dear, if you could sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll hang P——e—I'll hang him—but if he gives me + back my money, I'll not touch him. Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Father dear, I'm Connor, your own son, Connor.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll marry you and Una, then. I'll settle all the villain robbed me of on + you, and you'll have every penny of it <i>after my death</i>. Don't be + keepin' me up, I can walk very well; ay, an' I'm in right good spirits. + Sure, the money's got, Connor—got back every skilleen of it. Ha, ha, + ha, God be praised! God be praised! We've a right to be thankful—the + world isn't so bad afther all.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, will you try and rest?” + </p> + <p> + “It's not bad, afther all—I won't starve, as I thought I would, now + that the <i>arrighad</i> is got back from the villain. Ha, ha, ha, it's + great, Connor, ahagur!” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, father dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, sing me a song—my heart's up—it's light—arn't + you glad?—sing me a song.” + </p> + <p> + “If you'll sleep first, father dear.” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Uligone</i>, Connor, or <i>Shuilagra</i>, or the <i>Trougha</i>—for, + avourneen, avourneen, there must be sorrow in it, for my heart's low, and + your mother's heart's in sorrow, an' she's lyin' far from us, an' her + boy's not near her, an' her heart's sore, sore, and her head achin', + bekase her boy's far from her, and she can't come to him!” + </p> + <p> + The boy, whose noble fortitude was unshaken during the formidable trial it + had encountered in the course of that day, now felt overcome by this + simple allusion to his mother's love. He threw his arms about his father's + neck, and, placing his head upon his bosom, wept aloud for many, many + minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Hiisth, Connor, husth, asthore—what makes you cry? Sure, all 'ill + be right now that we've got back the money. Eh? Ha, ha, ha, it's great + luck, Connor, isn't it great? An' you'll have it, you an' Una, <i>afther + my death</i>—for I won't starve for e'er a one o' yees.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, father, I wish you would rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I will, avick, I will—bring me to bed—you'll sleep in + your own bed to-night. Your poor mother's head hasn't been off of the + place where your own lay, Connor. No, indeed; her heart's low—it's + breakin'—it's breakin'—but she won't let anybody make your bed + but herself. Oh, the mother's love, Connor—that mother's love, that + mother's love—but, Connor—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father, dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't there something wrong, avick: isn't there something not right, + somehow?” + </p> + <p> + This question occasioned the son to feel as if his heart would literally + burst to pieces, especially when he considered the circumstances under + which the old man put it. Indeed, there was something so transcendently + appalling in his intoxication, and in the wild but affecting tone of his + conversation, that, when joined to his pallid and spectral appearance, it + gave a character, for the time being, of a mood that struck the heart with + an image more frightful than that of madness itself. + </p> + <p> + “Wrong, father!” he replied, “all's wrong, and I can't understand it. It's + wel for you that you don't know the doom that's upon us now, for I feel + how it would bring you down, and how it will, too. It will kill you, my + father—it will kill you.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor, come home, avick, come home—I'm tired at any rate—come + home to you mother—come, for her sake—I know I'm not at home, + an' she'll not rest till I bring you safe back to her. Come now, I'll have + no put offs—you must come, I say—I ordher you—I can't + and won't meet her wid out you. Come, avick, an' you can sing mi the song + goin' home—come wid your owi poor ould father, that can't live + widout you—come, a sullish machree, I don't feel right here—we + won't be properly happy till we go to your lovin' mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Father, father, you don't know what you're making me suffer! What heart, + blessed heaven, can bear—” + </p> + <p> + The door of his cell here opened, and the turnkey stated that some five or + six of his friends were anxious to see him, and, above all things, to take + charge of his father to his own home. This was a manifest relief to the + young man, who then felt more deeply on his unhappy father's account than + on his own. + </p> + <p> + “Some foolish friends,” said he, “have given my father liquor, an' it has + got into his head—indeed, it overcame him the more as I never + remember him to taste a drop of spirits during his life before. I can see + no body now an' him in this state; but if they wish me well, let them take + care of him, and leave him safe at his own house, and tell them I'll be + glad if I can see them tomorrow, or any other time.” + </p> + <p> + With considerable difficulty Fardorougha was removed from Connor, whom he + clung to with all his strength, attempting also to drag him away. He then + wept bitterly, because he declined to accompany him home, that he might + comfort his mother, and enjoy the imagined recovery of his money from P——e, + and the conviction which he believed they had just succeeded in getting + against that notorious defaulter. + </p> + <p> + After they had departed, Connor sat down upon his hard pallet, and, + supporting his head with his hand, saw, for the first time, in all its + magnitude and horror, the death to which he found himself now doomed. The + excitement occasioned by his trial, and his increasing firmness, as it + darkened on through all its stages to the final sentence, now had—in + a considerable degree abandoned him, and left his heart, at present, more + accessible to natural weakness than it it had been to the power of his own + affections. The image of his early-loved Una had seldom since his arrest + been out of his imagination. Her youth, her beauty, her wild but natural + grace, and the flashing glances of her dark enthusiastic eye, when joined + to her tenderness and boundless affection for himself—all caused his + heart to quiver with deadly anguish through every fibre. This produced a + transition to Flanagan—the contemplation of whose perfidious + vengeance made him spring from his seat in a paroxysm of indignant but + intense hatred, so utterly furious that the swelling tempest which it sent + through his veins caused him to reel with absolute giddiness. + </p> + <p> + “Great God!” he exclaimed, “you are just, and will this be suffered?” + </p> + <p> + He then thought of his parents, and the fiery mood of his mind changed to + one of melancholy and sorrow. He looked back upon his aged father's + enduring struggle—upon the battle of the old man's heart against the + accursed vice which had swayed its impulses so long—on the + protracted conflict between the two energies, which, like contending + fivmies in the field, had now left little but ruin and desolation behind + them. His heart, when he brought all these things near him, expanded, and + like a bird, folded its wings about the gray-haired martyr to the love he + bore him. But his mother—the caressing, the proud, the affectionate, + whose heart, in the vivid tenderness of hope for her beloved boy, had + shaped out his path in life, as that on which she could brood with the + fondness of a loving and delighted spirit—that mother's image, and + the idea of her sorrows prostrated his whole strength, like that of a + stricken infant, to the earth. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, mother,” he exclaimed, “when I think of what you reared me for, + and what I am this night, how can my heart do otherwise than break, as + well on your account as on my own, and for all that love us! Oh! what will + become of you, my blessed mother? Hard does it go with you that you're not + about your pride, as you used to call me, now that I'm in this trouble, in + this fate that is soon to cut me down from your loving arms! The thought + of you is dear to my heart, dear, dearer, dearer than that of any—than + my own Una. What will become of her, too, and the old man? Oh, why, why is + it that the death I am to suffer is to fall so heavily on them that love + me best?” + </p> + <p> + He then returned to his bed, but the cold and dreary images of death and + ruin haunted his imagination, until the night was far spent, when at + length he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. + </p> + <p> + By the sympathy expressed at his trial, our readers may easily conceive + the profound sorrow which was felt for him, in the district where he was + known, from the moment the knowledge of his sentence had gone abroad among + the people. This was much strengthened by that which, whether in man or + woman, never fails to create an amiable prejudice in its favor—I + mean youth and personal beauty. His whole previous character was now + canvassed with a mournful lenity that brought out his virtues into + beautiful relief; and the fate of the affectionate son was deplored no + less than that of the youthful, but rash and inconsiderate lover. Neither + was the father without his share of compassion, for they could not forget + that, despite of all his penury and extortion, the old man's heart had + been fixed, with a strong but uncouth affection, upon his amiable and only + boy. It was, however, when they thought of his mother, in whose heart of + hearts he had been enshrined as the idol of her whole affection, that + their spirits became truly touched. Many a mother assumed in her own + person, by the force of imagination, the sinking woman's misery, and + poured forth, in unavailing tears, the undeniable proofs of the sincerity + with which she participated in Honor's bereavement. As for Flanagan, a + deadly weight of odium, such as is peculiar to the Informer in Ireland, + fell upon both him and his. Nor was this all. Aided by that sagacity which + is so conspicuous in Irishmen, when a vindictive or hostile feeling is + excited among them, they depicted Flanagan's character with an accuracy + and truth astonishingly correct and intuitive. Numerous were the instances + of cowardice, treachery, and revenge remembered against him, by those who + had been his close and early companions, not one of which would have ever + occurred to them, were it not that their minds had been thrown back upon + the scrutiny by the melancholy fate in which he had involved the unhappy + Connor O'Donovan. Had he been a mere ordinary witness in the matter, he + would have experienced little of this boiling indignation at their hands; + but first to participate in the guilt, and afterwards, for the sake of the + reward, or from a worse and more flagitious motive, to turn upon him, and + become his accuser, even to the taking away of the young man's life—to + stag against his companion and accomplice—this was looked upon as a + crime ten thousand times more black and damnable than that for which the + unhappy culprit had been consigned to so shameful a death. + </p> + <p> + But, alas, of what avail was all this sympathy and indignation to the + unfortunate youth himself or to those most deeply interested in his fate? + Would not the very love and sorrow felt towards her son fall upon his + mother's heart with a heavier weight of bitterness and agony? Would not + his Una's soul be wounded on that account with a sharper and more deadly + pang of despair and misery? It would, indeed, be difficult to say whether + the house of Bodagh Buie or that of Fardorougha was then in the deeper + sorrow. On the morning of Connor's trial, Una arose at an earlier hour + than usual, and it was observed when she sat at breakfeast, that her cheek + was at one moment pale as death, and again flushed and feverish. These + symptoms were first perceived by her affectionate brother, who, on + witnessing the mistakes she made in pouring out the tea, exchanged a + glance with his parents, and afterwards asked her to allow him to take her + place. She laid down the tea-pot, and, looking him mournfully in the face, + attempted to smile at a request so unusual. + </p> + <p> + “Una, dear,” said he, “you must allow me. There is no necessity for + attempting to conceal what you feel—we all know it—and if we + did not, the fact of your having filled the sugar-bowl instead of the + tea-cup would soon discover it.” + </p> + <p> + She said nothing, but looked at him again, as if she scarcely comprehended + what he said. A glance, however, at the sugar-bowl convinced her that she + was incapable of performing the usual duties of the breakfast table. + Hitherto she had not raised her eyes to her father or mother's face, nor + spoken to them as had been her wont, when meeting at that strictly + domestic meal. The unrestrained sobbings of the mother now aroused her for + the first time, and on looking up, she saw her father wiping away the big + tears from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Una, avourneen,” said the worthy man, “let John make tay for us—for, + God help you, you can't do it. Don't fret, achora machree, don't, don't, + Una; as God is over me, I'd give all I'm worth to save him, for your + sake.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at her father and smiled again; but that smile cut him to the + heart. + </p> + <p> + “I will make the tea myself, father,” she replied, “and I <i>won't</i> + commit any more mistakes;” and as she spoke she unconsciously poured the + tea into the slop—bowl. + </p> + <p> + “Avourneen,” said her mother, “let John do it; acushla machree, let him do + it.” + </p> + <p> + She then rose, and without uttering a word, passively and silently placed + herself on her brother's chair—he having, at the same time, taken + that on which she sat. + </p> + <p> + “Una,” said her father, taking her hand, “you must be a good girl, and you + must have courage; and whatever happens, my darling, you'll pluck up + strength, I hope, and bear it.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so, father,” said she, “I hope so.” + </p> + <p> + “But, avourneen machree,” said her mother, “I would rather see you cryin' + fifty times over, than smilin' the way you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” said she, “my heart is sore—my heart is sore.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, ahagur machree; and your hand is tremblin' so much that you can't + bring the tay—cup to your mouth; but, then, don't smile so + sorrowfully, anein machree.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should I cry, mother?” she replied; “I know that Connor is innocent. + If I knew him to be guilty, I would weep, and I ought to weep.” + </p> + <p> + “At all events, Una,” said her father, “you know it's the government, and + not us, that's prosecuting him.” + </p> + <p> + To this Una made no reply, but, thrusting away her cup, she looked with + the same mournful smile from one to the other of the little circle about + her. At length she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Father, I have a request to ask of you.” + </p> + <p> + “If it's within my power, Una darling, I'll grant it; and if it's not, + it'll go hard with me but I'll bring it within my power. What is it, + asthore machree?” + </p> + <p> + “In case he's found guilty, to let John put off his journey to Maynooth, + and stay with me for some time—it won't be long I'll keep him.” + </p> + <p> + “If it pleases you, darling, he'll never put his foot into Maynooth + again.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the mother, “dhamnho to the step, if you don't wish him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, no,” said Una, “it's only for a while.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless she desires it, I will never go,” replied the loving brother; “nor + will I ever leave you in your sorrow, my beloved and only sister—never—never—so + long as a word from my lips can give you consolation.” + </p> + <p> + The warm tears coursed each other down his cheeks as he spoke, and both + his parents, on looking at the almost blighted flower before them, wept as + if the hand of death had already been upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Father, and John are going to his trial,” she observed; “for me I like to + be alone;—alone; but when you return to-night, let John break it to + me. I'll go now to the garden. I'll walk about to-day—only before + you go, John, I want to speak to you.” + </p> + <p> + Calmly and without a tear, she then left the parlor, and proceeded to the + garden, where she began to dress and ornament the hive which contained the + swarm that Connor had brought to her on the day their mutual attachment + was first disclosed to each other. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said John, when she had gone, “I'm afraid that Una's heart is + broken, or if not broken, that she won't survive his conviction long—it's + breaking fast—for my part, in her present state, I neither will nor + can leave her.” + </p> + <p> + The affectionate father made no reply, but, putting his handkerchief to + his eyes, wept, as did her mother, in silent but bitter grief. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot spake about it, nor think of it, John,” said he, after some + time, “but we must do what we can for her.” + </p> + <p> + “If anything happens her,” said the mother, “I'd never get over it. Oh + marciful Savior! how could we live widout her?” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather see her in tears,” said John—“I would rather see her + in outrageous grief a thousand times than in the calm but ghastly + resolution with which she is bearing herself up against the trial of this + day. If he's condemned to death, I'm afraid that either her health or + reason will sink under it, and, in that case, God pity her and us, for + how, as you say, mother, could we afford to lose her? Still let us hope + for the best. Father, it's time to prepare; get the car ready. I am going + to the garden, to hear what the poor thing has to say to me, but I will be + with you soon.” + </p> + <p> + Her brother found her, as we have said, engaged calmly, and with a + melancholy pleasure, in adorning the hive which, on Connor's account, had + become her favorite. He was not at all sorry that she had proposed this + short interview, for, as his hopes of Connor's acquittal were but feeble, + if, indeed, he could truly be said to entertain any, he resolved, by + delicately communicating his apprehensions, to gradually prepare her mind + for the worst that might happen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART5" id="link2H_PART5"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART V. + </h2> + <p> + On hearing his step she raised her head, and advancing towards the middle + of the garden, took his arm, and led him towards the summer—house in + which Connor and she had first acknowledged their love. She gazed + wistfully upon it after they entered, and wrung her hands, but still shed + no tears. + </p> + <p> + “Una,” said her brother, “you had something to say to me; what is it, + darling?” + </p> + <p> + She glanced timidly at him, and blushed. + </p> + <p> + “You won't be angry with me, John,” she replied; “would it be proper for + me to—to go”— + </p> + <p> + “What! to be present at the trial? Dear Una, you cannot think of it. It + would neither be proper nor prudent, and you surely would not be + considered indelicate? Besides, even were it not so, your strength is + unequal to it. No, no, Una dear; dismiss it from your thoughts.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear I could not stand it, indeed, John, even if it were proper; but I + know not what to do; there is a weight like death upon my heart. If I + could shed a tear it would relieve me; but I cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “It is probably better you should feel so, Una, than to entertain hopes + upon the matter that may be disappointed. It is always wisest to prepare + for the worst, in order to avoid the shock that may come upon us, and + which always falls heaviest when it comes contrary to our expectations.” + </p> + <p> + “I do not at all feel well,” she replied, “and I have been thinking of the + best way to break this day's tidings to me, when you come home. If he's + cleared, say, good-humoredly, 'Una, all's lost;' and if—if not, oh, + desire me—say to me, 'Una, you had better go to bed, and let yaur + mother go with you;' that will be enough; I will go to bed, and if ever I + rise from it again, it will not be from a love of life.” + </p> + <p> + The brother, seeing that conversation on the subject of her grief only + caused her to feel more deeply, deemed it better to terminate than to + continue a dialogue which only aggravated her sufferings. + </p> + <p> + “I trust and hope, dear Una,” he said, “that you will observe my father's + advice, and make at least a worthy effort to support yourself, under what + certainly is a heavy affliction to you, in a manner becoming your own + character. For his sake—for my mother's, and for mine, too, endeavor + to have courage; be firm—and, Una, if you take my advice, you'll + pray to God to strengthen you; for, after all, there is no support in the + moment of distress and sorrow, like His.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it not strange, John, that such heavy misfortunes should fall upon + two persons so young, and who deserve it so little?” + </p> + <p> + “It may be a trial sent for your advantage and his; who can say but it may + yet end for the good of you both? At present, indeed, there is no + probability of its ending favorably, and, even should it not, we are bound + to bear with patience such dispensations as the Great Being, to whom we + owe our existence, and of whose ways we know so little, may think right to + lay upon us. Now, God bless you, and support you, dear, till I see you + again. I must go; don't you hear the jaunting-car driving up to the gate; + be firm—dear Una—be firm, and good—by!” + </p> + <p> + Never was a day spent under the influence of a more terrible suspense than + that which drank up the strength of this sinking girl during the trial of + her lover. Actuated by a burning and restless sense of distraction, she + passed from place to place with that mechanical step which marks those who + seek for comfort in vain. She retired to her apartment and strove to pray; + but the effort was fruitless; the confusion of her mind rendered + connection and continuity of thought and language impossible. At one + moment she repaired to the scenes where they had met, and again with a hot + and aching brain, left them with a shudder that arose from a withering + conception of the loss of him whose image, by their association, was at + once rendered more distinct and more beloved. Her poor mother frequently + endeavored to console her, but became too much affected herself to + proceed. Nor were the servants less anxious to remove the heavy load of + sorrow which weighed down her young spirit to the earth. Her brief, but + affecting reply was the same to each. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing can comfort me; my heart is breaking; oh, leave me—leave me + to the sorrow that's upon, me.” + </p> + <p> + Deep, indeed, was the distress felt on her account, even by the females of + her father's house, who, that day, shed many bitter tears on witnessing + the mute but feverish agony of her sufferings. As evening approached she + became evidently more distracted and depressed; her head, she said, felt + hot, and her temples occasionally throbbed with considerable violence. The + alternations of color on her cheek were more frequent than before, and + their pallid and carmine hues were more alarmingly contrasted. Her weeping + mother took the stricken one to her bosom, and, after kissing her burning + and passive lips, pressed her temples with a hope that this might give her + relief. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you cry, <i>anien maehree</i>? (daughter of my heart). Thry and + shed tears; it 'ill take away this burning pain that's in your poor head; + oh, thry and let down the tears, and you'll see how it 'ill relieve I + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I can't,” she replied; “I can shed no tears; I wish they were + home, for I the worst couldn't be worse than this.” + </p> + <p> + “No, asthore, it couldn't—it can't; husth! I—do you hear it? + There they are; that's the car; ay, indeed, it's at the gate.” + </p> + <p> + They both listened for a moment, and the voices of her father and brother + were distinctly heard giving some necessary orders! to the servant. + </p> + <p> + “Mother, mother,” exclaimed Una, pressing her hands upon her heart, “my + heart is bursting, and my temples—my temples—” + </p> + <p> + “Chierna yeelish,” said the mother, feeling its strong and rapid + palpitations, “you can't stand this. Oh, darling of my heart, for the sake + of your own life, and of the living God, be firm!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment their knock at the hall-door occasioned her to leap with a + sudden start, almost out of her mother's arms. But, all at once, the + tumult of that heart ceased, and the vermillion of her cheek changed to + the hue of death. With a composure probably more the result of weakness + than fortitude, she clasped her hands, and giving a fixed gaze towards the + parlor-door, that spoke the resignation of despair, she awaited the + tidings of her lover's doom. They both entered, and, after a cautious + glance about the room, immediately perceived the situation in which, + reclining on her mother's bosom, she lay, ghastly as a corpse, before + them. + </p> + <p> + “Una, dear,” said John, approaching her, “I am afraid you are ill.” + </p> + <p> + She riveted her eyes upon him, as if she would read his soul, but she + could not utter a syllable. + </p> + <p> + The young man's countenance became overshadowed by a deep and mournful + sense of the task he found himself compelled to perform; his voice + faltered, and his lips trembled, as—, in a low tone of heartfelt and + profound sympathy, he exclaimed: + </p> + <p> + “Una, dear, you had better go to bed, and let my mother stay with you.” + Calmly she heard him, and, rising, she slowly but deliberately left the + room, and proceeded up stairs with a degree of steadiness which surprised + her mother. The only words she uttered on hearing this blighting + communication, were, “Come with me, mother.” + </p> + <p> + “Una, darling,” said the latter when they had reached the bed-room, “why + don't you spake to me? Let me hear your voice, jewel; only let me hear + your voice.” + </p> + <p> + Una stooped and affectionately kissed her, but made no reply for some + minutes. She then began to undress, which she did in fits and starts; + sometimes pausing, in evident abstraction, for a considerable time, and + again resuming the task of preparing for bed. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she at length said, “my heart is as cold as ice; but my brain is + burning; feel my temples; how hot they are, and how they beat!” + </p> + <p> + “I do, alanna dheelish; your body, as well as your mind, is sick; but + we'll sind for the doctor, darlin', and you'll soon be betther, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so; and then Connor and I can be married in spite of them. Don't + they say, mother, that marriages are made in heaven?” + </p> + <p> + “They do, darlin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I will meet him there. Oh, my head—my head! I cannot + bear—bear this racking pain.” + </p> + <p> + Her mother, who, though an uneducated woman, was by no means deficient in + sagacity, immediately perceived that her mind was beginning to exhibit + symptoms of being unsettled. Having, therefore, immediately called one of + the maid-servants, she gave her orders to stay with Una, who had now gone + to bed, until she herself could again return to her. She instantly + proceeded to the parlor, where her husband and son were, and with a face + pale from alarm, told them that she feared Una's mind was going. + </p> + <p> + “May the Almighty forbid!” exclaimed her father, laying down his knife and + fork, for they had just sat down to dinner; “oh, what makes you say such a + thing, Bridget? What on earth makes you think it?” + </p> + <p> + “For Heaven's sake, mother, tell us at once,” inquired the son, rising + from the table, and walking distractedly across the room. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she's beginning to rave about him,” replied her mother; “she's + afther saying that she'll be married to him in spite o' them.” + </p> + <p> + “In spite o' who, Bridget?” asked the Bodagh, wiping his eyes—“in + spite o' who does she mane?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I suppose in spite of Flanagan and thim that found him guilty,” + replied his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but what else did she say, mother?” + </p> + <p> + “She axed me if marriages warn't made in heaven; and I tould her that the + people said so; upon that she said she'd meet him there, and then she + complained of her head. The trewth is, she has a heavy load of sickness on + her back, and the sorra hour should be lost till we get a docthor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is the truth, mother; I'll go this moment for Dr. H——. + There's nothing like taking these things in time. Poor Una! God knows this + trial is a sore one upon a heart so, faithful and affectionate as hers.” + </p> + <p> + “John, had you not betther ait something before you go?” said his father; + “you want it afther the troublesome day you had.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” replied the son; “I cannot—I cannot; I will neither eat + nor drink till I hear what the doctor will say about her. O, my God!” he + exclaimed, whilst his eyes filled with tears, “and is it come to this with + you, our darling Una?—I won't lose a moment till I return,” he + added, as he went out; “nor will I, under any circumstances, come without + medical aid of some kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Let these things be taken away, Bridget,” said the Bodagh; “my appetite + is gone, too; that last news is the worst of all. May the Lord of heaven + keep our child's mind right! for, oh, Bridget, wouldn't death itself be + far afore that?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going up to her,” replied his wife; “and may God guard her, and spare + her safe and sound to us; for what—what kind of a house would it be + if she——but I can't think of it. Oh, wurrah, wurrah, this + night!” + </p> + <p> + Until the return of their son, with the doctor, both O'Brien and his wife + hung in a state of alarm bordering on agony over the bed of their beloved + daughter. Indeed, the rapidity and vehemence with which incoherence, + accompanied by severe illness, set in, were sufficient to excite the + greatest alarm, and to justify their darkest apprehensions. Her skin was + hot almost to burning; her temples throbbed terribly, and such were her + fits of starting and raving, that they felt as if every minute were an + hour, until the physician actually made his appearance. Long before tins + gentleman reached the house, the son had made him fully acquainted with + what he looked upon as the immediate cause of her illness; not that the + doctor himself had been altogether ignorant of it, for, indeed, there were + few persons of any class or condition in the neighborhood to whom that + circumstance was unknown. + </p> + <p> + On examining the diagnostics that presented themselves, he pronounced her + complaint to be brain fever of the most formidable class, to wit, that + which arises from extraordinary pressure upon the mind, and unusual + excitement of the feelings. It was a relief to her family, however, to + know that beyond the temporary mental aberrations, inseparable from the + nature of her complaint, there was no evidence whatsoever of insanity. + They felt grateful to God for this, and were consequently enabled to watch + her sick-bed with more composure, and to look forward to her ultimate + recovery with a hope less morbid and gloomy. In this state we are now + compelled to leave them and her, and to beg the reader will accompany us + to another house of sorrow, where the mourning was still more deep, and + the spirits that were wounded driven into all the wild and dreary darkness + of affliction. + </p> + <p> + Our readers cannot forget the helpless state of intoxication, in which + Fardorougha left his unhappy son on the evening of the calamitous day that + saw him doomed to an ignominious death. His neighbors, as we then said, + having procured a car, assisted him home, and would, for his wife's and + son's sake, have afforded him all the sympathy in their power; he was, + however, so completely overcome with the spirits he had drank, and an + unconscious latent feeling of the dreadful sentence that had been + pronounced upon his son, that he required little else at their hands than + to keep him steady on the car. During the greater part of the journey + home, his language was only a continuation of the incoherencies which + Connor had, with such a humiliating sense of shame and sorrow, witnessed + in his prison cell. A little before they arrived within sight of his + house, his companions perceived that he had fallen asleep; but to a + stranger, ignorant of the occurrences of the day, the car presented the + appearance of a party returning from a wedding or from some other occasion + equally festive and social. Most of them were the worse for liquor, and + one of them in particular had reached a condition which may be too often + witnessed in this country. I mean that in which the language becomes + thick; the eye knowing but vacant; the face impudent but relaxed; the + limbs tottering, and the voice inveterately disposed to melody. The + general conversation, therefore, of those who accompanied the old man was, + as is usual with persons so circumstanced, high and windy; but as far as + could be supposed by those who heard them cheerful and amiable. Over the + loudness of their dialogue might be heard, from time to time, at a great + distance, the song of the drunken melodist just alluded to, rising into + those desperate tones which borrow their drowsy energy from intoxication + alone. Such was the character of those who accompanied the miser home; and + such were the indications conveyed to the ears or eyes of I those who + either saw or heard them, as they approached Fardorougha's dwelling, where + the unsleeping heart of the mother watched—and oh! with what a dry + and burning anguish of expectation, let our readers judge—for the + life or death of the only child that God had ever vouchsafed to that + loving heart on which to rest all its tenderest hopes and affections. + </p> + <p> + The manner in which Honor O'Donovan spent that day was marked by an + earnest and simple piety that would have excited high praise and + admiration if witnessed in a person of rank or consideration in society. + She was, as the reader may remember, too ill to be able to attend the + trial of her son, or as she herself expressed it in Irish, to draw + strength to her heart by one look at his manly face; by one glance from + her boy's eye. She resolved, however, to draw consolation from a higher + source, and to rest the burden of her sorrows, as far as in her lay, upon + that being in whose hands are the issues of life and death. From the + moment her husband left the threshold of his childless house on that + morning until his return, her prayers to God and the saints were truly + incessant. And who is so well acquainted with the inscrutable ways of the + Almighty, as to dare assert that the humble supplications of this pious + and sorrowful mother were not heard and answered? Whether it was owing to + the fervor of an imagination wrought upon by the influence of a creed + which nourishes religious enthusiasm in an extraordinary degree, or + whether it was by direct support from that God who compassionated her + affliction, let others determine; but certain it is, that in the course of + that day she gained a calmness and resignation, joined to an increasing + serenity of heart, such as she had not hoped to feel under a calamity so + black and terrible. + </p> + <p> + On hearing the approach of the car which bore her husband home, and on + listening to the noisy mirth of those, who, had they been sober, would + have sincerely respected her grief, she put up an inward prayer of + thanksgiving to God for what she supposed to be the happy event of + Connor's acquittal. Stunning was the blow, however, and dreadful the + revulsion of feelings, occasioned by the discovery of this sad mistake. + When they reached the door she felt still farther persuaded that all had + ended as she wished, for to nothing else, except the wildness of + unexpected joy, could she think of ascribing her husband's intoxication. + </p> + <p> + “We must carry Fardorougha in,” said one of them to the rest; “for the + liquor has fairly overcome him—he's sound asleep.” + </p> + <p> + “He is cleared!” exclaimed the mother; “he is cleared! My heart tells me + he has come out without a stain. What else could make his father, that + never tasted liquor for the last thirty years, be as he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Honor O'Donovan,” said one of them, wringing her hand as he spoke, “this + has been a black day to you all; you must prepare yourself for bad news.” + </p> + <p> + “Thin Christ and his blessed mother support me, and support us all! but + what is the worst? oh, what is the worst?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>barradh dhu</i>,” replied the man, alluding to the black cap which + the judge puts on when passing sentence of death. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, “may the name of the Lord that sent this upon us be + praised forever! That's no rason why we shouldn't still put our trust and + reliance in him. I will show them, by the help of God's grace, an' by the + assistance of His blessed mother, who suffered herself—an' oh, what + is my sufferin's to her's?—I will show them I say, that I can bear, + as a Christian ought, whatever hard fate it may plase the Saviour of the + earth to lay upon us. I know my son is innocent, an surely, although it's + hard, hard to part with such a boy, yet it's a consolation to know that + he'll be better wid God, who is takin' him, than ever he'd be wid us. So + the Lord's will be done this night and forever! amin!” + </p> + <p> + This noble display of glowing piety and fortitude was not lost upon those + who witnessed it. After littering these simple but exalted sentiments, she + crossed herself devoutly, as is the custom, and bowed her head with such a + vivid sense of God's presence, that it seemed as if she actually stood, as + no doubt she did, under the shadow of His power. These men, knowing the + force of her love to that son, and the consequent depth of her misery at + losing him by a death so shameful and violent, reverently took off their + hats as she bent her head to express this obedience to the decrees of God, + and in a subdued tone and manner exclaimed, almost with one voice— + </p> + <p> + “May God pity you, Honor! for who but yourself would or could act as you + do this bitther, bitther night?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm only doin' what I ought to do,” she replied, “what is religion good + for if it doesn't keep the heart right an' support us undher thrials like + this; what 'ud it be then but a name? But how, oh how, came his father to + be in sich a state on this bitther, bitther night, as you say it is—aif + oh! Heaven above sees it's that—how came his father, I say, into + sich a state?” + </p> + <p> + They then related the circumstance as it actually happened; and she + appeared much relieved to hear that his inebriety was only accidental. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad,” she said, “that he got it as he did; for, indeed, if he had + made himself dhrunk this day, as too many like him do on such occasions, + he never again would appear the same man in my eyes, nor would my heart + ever more warm to him as it did. But thanks to God that he didn't take it + himself!” + </p> + <p> + She then heard, with a composure that could result only from fortitude and + resignation united, a more detailed account of her son's trial, after + which she added— + </p> + <p> + “As God is above me this night I find it asier to lose Connor than to + forgive the man that destroyed him; but this is a bad state of heart, that + I trust my Saviour will give me grace to overcome; an' I know He will if I + ax it as I ought; at all events, I won't lay my side on a bed this night + antil I pray to God to forgive Bartle Flanagan an' to turn his heart.” + </p> + <p> + She then pressed them, with a heart as hospitable as it was pious, to + partake of food, which they declined, from a natural reluctance to give + trouble where the heart is known to be pressed down by the violence of + domestic calamity. These are distinctions which our humble countrymen draw + with a delicacy that may well shame those who move in a higher rank of + life. Respect for unmerited affliction, and sympathy for the sorrows of + the just and virtuous, are never withheld by the Irish peasant when + allowed by those who can guide him either for goqd or for evil to follow + the impulses of his own heart. The dignity, for instance, of Honor + O'Donovan's bearing under a trial so overwhelming in its nature, and the + piety with which she supported it, struck them, half tipsy as they were, + so forcibly, that they became sobered down—some of them into a full + perception of her firmness and high religious feelings; and those who were + more affected by drink into a maudlin gravity of deportment still more + honorable to the admirable principles of the woman who occasioned it. + </p> + <p> + One of the latter, for instance, named Bat Hanratty, exclaimed, after they + had bade her good, night, and expressed their unaffected sorrow for the + severe loss she was about to sustain: + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, you may all talk; but be the powdhers o' delf, nothin' + barrin' the downright grace o' God could sup—sup—port that + dacent mother of ould Fardorougha—I mane of his son, poor Connor. + But the truth is, you see, that there's nothin'—nothin' no, the + divil saize the hap'o'rth at all, good, bad, or indifferent aquil to + puttin' your trust in God; bekase, you see—Con Roach, I say—bekase + you see, when a man does that as he ought to do it; for it's all + faisthelagh if you go the wrong way about it; but Con—Condy, I say, + you're a dacent man, an' it stands to raison—it does, boys—upon + my soul it does. It wasn't for nothin' that money was lost upon myself, + when I was takin' in the edjigation; and maybe, if Connor O'Donovan, that + is now goin' to suffer, poor fellow— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + For the villain swore away my life, an' all by perjuree; + And for that same I die wid shame upon the gallows tree. +</pre> + <p> + So, as I was sayin', why didn't Connor come in an' join the boys like + another, an' then we could settle Bartle for staggin' against him. For, + you see, in regard o'. that, Condy, it doesn't signify a traneen whether + he put a match to the haggard or not; the thing is, you know, that even if + he did, Bartle daren't sweat against him widout breakin' his first oath to + the boys; an' if he did it afther that, an' brought any of them into + throuble conthrary to the articles, be gorra he'd be entitled to get a + gusset opened undher one o' his ears, any how. But you see, Con, be the + book—God pardon me for swearin'—but be the book, the mother + has the thrue! ralligion in her heart, or she'd never stand it the way she + does, an' that proves what I was axpoundin'; that afther all, the sorra + hap'-o'rth aquil to the grace o' God.” + </p> + <p> + He then sang a comic song, and, having passed an additional eulogium on + the conduct of Honor O'Donovan, concluded by exhibiting some rather + unequivocal symptoms of becoming pathetic from sheer sympathy; after which + the stiporific effect of his libations soon hushed him into a snore that + acted as a base to the shrill tones in which his companions I addressed + one another from each side of the car. + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha, ever, since the passion of avarice had established its + accursed dominion in his heart, narrowed by degrees his domestic + establishment, until, towards the latter years of his life, it consisted + of only a laboring boy, as the term is, and a servant girl. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, no miser was ever known to maintain a large household; and that + for reasons too obvious to be detailed. Since Connor's incarceration, + however, his father's heart had so far expanded, that he hired two men as + inside servants, one of them, now the father of a large family, being the + identical Nogher M'Cormick, who, as the reader remembers, was in his + service at the time of Connor's birth. The other was a young man named + Thaddy Star, or Reillaghan, as it is called in Irish, who was engaged upon + the recommendation of Biddy Nulty, then an established favorite with her + master and mistress, in consequence of her faithful devotion to! them and + Connor, and her simple-hearted participation in their heavy trouble. The + manner in which they received the result of her son's trial was not indeed + calculated to sustain his mother. In the midst of the clamor, however, she + was calm and composed; but it would have been evident, to a close + observer, that a deep impression of religious duty alone sustained her, + and that the yearnings of the mother's heart, though stilled by + resignation to the Divine Will, were yet more intensely agonized by the + suppression of what she secretly felt. Such, however, is the motive of + those heroic acts of self-denial, which religion only can enable us to + perform. It does not harden the heart, or prevent it from feeling the full + force of the calamity or sorrow which comes upon us; no, but whilst we + experience it in all the rigor of distress, it teaches us to reflect that + suffering is our lot, and that it is our duty to receive these severe + dispensations in such a manner as to prevent others from being corrupted + by our impatience, or by our open want of submission to the decrees of + Providence. When the agony of the Man of Sorrow was at its highest, He + retired to a solitary place, and whilst every pore exuded water and blood, + he still exclaimed—“Not My will, but Thine be done.” Here was + resignation, indeed, but at the same time a heart exquisitely sensible of + all it had to bear. And much, indeed, as yet lay before that of the pious + mother of our unhappy hero, and severe was the trial which, on this very + night, she was doomed to encounter. + </p> + <p> + When Fardorougha awoke, which he did not do until about three o'clock in + the morning, he looked wildly about him, and, starting up in the bed, put + his two hands on his temples, like a man distracted by acute pain; yet + anxious to develop in his memory the proceedings of the foregoing day. The + inmates, however, were startled from their sleep by a shriek, or rather a + yell, so loud and unearthly that in a few minutes they stood collected + about his bed. It would be impossible, indeed, to conceive, much less to + describe, such a picture of utter horror as then presented itself to their + observation. A look that resembled the turbid glare of insanity was + riveted upon them whilst he uttered shriek after shriek, without the power + of articulating a syllable. The room, too, was dim and gloomy; for the + light of the candle that was left burning beside him had become ghastly + for want of snuffing. There he sat—his fleshless hands pressed + against his temples; his thin, gray hair standing out wildly from his + head; his lips asunder; and his cheeks sucked in so far that the chasms + occasioned in his jawbones, by the want of his back teeth, were plainly + visible. + </p> + <p> + “Chiemah dheelish,” exclaimed Honor, “what is this? as Heaven's above me, + I believe he's dyin'; see how he gasps! Here, Fardorougha,” she exclaimed, + seizing a jug of water which had been left on a chair beside him, but + which he evidently did not see, “here, here, darlin', wet your lips; the + cool water will refresh you.” + </p> + <p> + He immediately clutched the jug with eager and trembling hands, and at one + rapid draught emptied it to the bottom. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he shouted, “I can spake, now I can spake. Where's my son? where's + my son? an' what has happened me? how did I come here? was I mad? am I + mad? but tell me, tell me first, where's Connor? Is it thrue? is it all + thrue? or is it me that's mad?” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, dear,” said his wife, “be a man, or, rather, be a Christian. + It was God gave Connor to us, and who has a better right to take him back + from us? Don't go flyin' in His face, bekase He won't ordher everything as + you wish. You haven't taken off of you to-night, so rise, dear, and calm + yourself; then go to your knees, lift your heart to God, and beg of Him to + grant you stringth and patience. Thry that coorse, avoumeen, an' you'll + find it the best.” + </p> + <p> + “How did I come home I say, Oh tell me Honor, was I out of my wits?” + </p> + <p> + “You fainted,” she replied; they gave you whiskey to support you; an' not + bein' accustomed to it, it got into your head.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Honor, our son, our son!” he replied; then, starting out of the bed + in a fit of the wildest despair, he clasped his handy together, and + shrieked out, “Oh, our son, our son, our son Connor! Merciful Saviour, how + will I name it? to be hanged by the neck! Oh, Honor, Honor, don't you pity + me? don't you pity me? Mother of Heaven, this night? That barradh dim, + that barradh dim, put on for our boy, our innocent boy; who can + undherstand it, Honor? It's not justice; there's no justice in Heaven, or + my son wouldn't be murdhered, slaughtered down in the prime of his life, + for no rason! But no matther; let him be taken; only hear this: if he + goes, I'll never,bend my knee to a single prayer while I've life; for it's + terrible, it's cruel, 'tisn't justice; nor do I care what becomes of me, + either in this world or the other. All I want, Honor, is to folly him as + soon as I can; my hopes, my happiness, my life, my everything, is gone wid + him; an' what need I care, thin, what becomes of me? I don't, I don't.” + </p> + <p> + The faces of the domestics grew pale as they heard, with silent horror, + the incoherent blasphemies of the frantic miser; but his wife, whose eyes + were riveted on him while he spoke, and paced, with a hurried step, up and + down the room, felt at a loss whether to attribute his impiety to an + attack of insanity, or to a temporary fever, brought on by his late + sufferings and the intoxication of the preceding night. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, Fardorougha,” she said + calmly, placing her hand upon his shoulder, “are you sinsible that you're + this minute afther blasphemin' your Creator?” + </p> + <p> + He gave her a quick, disturbed, and peevish look, but made no reply. She + then proceeded: + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, I thought the loss of Connor the greatest punishment that + could be put upon me; but I find I was mistaken. I would rather see him + dead to-morrow, wid, wid the rope about his neck, than to hear his father + blasphemin' the livin' God! Fardorougha, it's clear that you're not now + fit to pray for yourself, but, in the name of our Saviour, I'll go an' + pray for you. In the mean time, go to bed; sleep will settle your head, + and you will be better, I trust, in the mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + The calm solemnity of her manner awed him, notwithstanding the vehemence + of his grief. He stood and looked at her, with his hands tightly clasped, + as she went to her son's bedroom, in order to pray for him. For a moment, + he seemed abashed and stunned. While she addressed him, he involuntarily + ceased to utter those sounds of anguish which were neither shrieks nor + groans, but something between both. He theli resumed his pace, but with a + more settled step, and for some minutes maintained perfect silence. + </p> + <p> + “Get me,” said he, at length, “get me a drink of wather; I'm in a flame + wid drouth.” + </p> + <p> + When Biddy Nulty went out to fetch him this, he inquired of the rest what + Honor meant by charging him with blasphemy. + </p> + <p> + “Surely to God, I didn't blasphame,” he said, peevishly; “no, no, I'm not + that bad; but any how, let her pray for me; her prayer will be heard, if + ever woman's was.” + </p> + <p> + When Biddy returned, he emptied the jug of water with the same trembling + eagerness as before; then clasped his hands again, and commenced pacing + the room, evidently in a mood of mind about to darken into all the + wildness of his former grief. + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” said Nogher M'Cormick; “I was undher this roof the night + your manly son was born. I remimber it well; an' I remimber more betoken, + I had to check you for flying in the face o' God that sent him to you. + Instead o' feelin' happy and delighted, as you ought to ha' done, an' as + any other man but yourself would, you grew dark an' sulky, and grumbled + bekase you thought there was a family comin'. I tould you that night to + take care an' not be committing sin; an' you may renumber, too, that I gev + you chapter an' verse for it out o' Scripture: 'Woe be to the man that's + born wid a millstone about his neck, especially if he's to be cast into + the say.' The truth is, Fardorougha, you warn't thankful to God for him; + and you see that afther all, it doesn't do to go to loggerheads wid the + Almighty. Maybe, had you been thankful for him, he wouldn't be where he is + this night. Millstone! Faith, it was a home thrust, that same verse; for + if you didn't carry the millstone about your neck, you had it in your + heart; an' you now see and feel the upshot. I'm now goin' fast into age + myself; my hair is grayer than your own, and I could take it to my death,” + said the honest fellow, while a tear or two ran slowly down his cheek; + “that, exceptin' one o' my own childre', an' may God spare them to me! I + couldn't feel more sorrow at the fate of any one livin', than at Connor's. + Many a time I held him in these arms, an' many a little play I made for + him; an' many a time he axed me why his father didn't nurse him as I did;' + bekase,' he used to say, 'I would rather he would nurse me than anybody + else, barring my mother; and, afther him, you, Nogher.'” + </p> + <p> + These last observations of his servant probed the heart of the old man to + the quick; but the feeling which they excited was a healthy one; or, + rather, the associations they occasioned threw Fardorougha's mind upon the + memory of those affections, which avarice had suppressed, without + destroying. + </p> + <p> + “I loved him, Nogher,” said he, deeply agitated; “Oh none but God knows + how I loved him, although I didn't an' couldn't bring myself to show it at + the time. There was something upon me; a curse, I think, that prevented + me; an' now that I love him as a father ought to do, I will not have him. + Oh, my son, my son, what will become of me, after you? Heavenly Father, + pity me and support me! Oh, Connor, my son, my son, what will become of + me?” + </p> + <p> + He then sat down on the bed, and, placing his hands upon his face, wept + long and bitterly. His grief now, however, was natural, for, during the + most violent of his paroxysms in the preceding hour, he shed not a tear; + yet now they ran down his cheeks, and through his fingers, in torrents. + </p> + <p> + “Cry on, cry on,” said Nogher, wiping his own eyes; “it will lighten your + heart; an' who knows but it's his mother's prayers that brought you to + yourself, and got this relief for you. Go, Biddy,” said he, in a whisper, + to the servant-maid, “and tell the mistress to come here; she'll know best + how to manage him, now that he's a little calm.” + </p> + <p> + “God be praised!” ejaculated Honor, on seeing him weep; “these tears will + cool your head, avourneen; an' now, Fardorougha, when you're tired cryin', + if you take my advice, you'll go to your knees an' offer up five pathers, + five Aves, an' a creed, for the grace of the Almighty to direct and + strengthen you; and thin, afther that, go to bed, as I sed, an' you'll + find how well you'll be afther a sound sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Honor,” replied her husband, “avourneen machree, I think you'll save your + husband's sowl yet, undhor my merciful Saviour.” + </p> + <p> + “Your son, undher the same merciful God, will do it. Your heart was hard + and godless, Fardorougha, and, surely, if Connor's death 'll be the manes + of savin' his father's sowl, wouldn't it be a blessin' instead of a + misfortune? Think of it in that light, Fardorougha, and turn your heart to + God. As for Connor, isn't it a comfort to know that the breath won't be + out of his body till he's a bright angel in heaven?” + </p> + <p> + The old man wiped his eyes and knelt down, first having desired them to + leave him. When the prayers were recited he called in Honor. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afeard,” said he, “that my heart wasn't properly in them, for I + couldn't prevent my mind from wanderin' to our boy.” + </p> + <p> + This touching observation took the mother's affections by surprise. A tear + started to her eye, but, after what was evidently a severe struggle, she + suppressed it. + </p> + <p> + “It's not at once you can do it, Fardorougha; so don't be cast down. Now, + go to bed, in the name of God, and sleep; and may the Lord in heaven + support you—and support us both! for oh! it's we that want it this + night of sorrow!” + </p> + <p> + She then stooped down and affectionately kissed him, and, having wished + him good night, she retired to Connor's bed, where, ever since the day of + his incarceration, this well-tried mother and enduring Christian slept. + </p> + <p> + At this stage of our story we will pause, for a moment, to consider the + state of mind and comparative happiness of the few persons who are actors + in our humble drama. + </p> + <p> + To a person capable of observing only human action, independently of the + motives by which it is regulated, it may appear that the day which saw + Connor O'Donovan consigned to a premature and shameful death, was one of + unmingled happiness to Bartle Flanagan. They know little of man's heart, + however, who could suppose this to be the case, or, who could even imagine + that he was happier than those on whom his revenge and perfidy had + entailed such a crushing load of misery. It is, indeed, impossible to + guess what the nature of that feeling must be which arises from the full + gratification of mean and diabolic malignity. Every action of the heart at + variance with virtue and truth is forced to keep up so many minute and + fearful precautions, all of which are felt to be of vast moment at the + time, that we question if ever the greatest glut of vengeance produced, no + matter what the occasion may have been, any satisfaction capable of + counterbalancing all the contigencies and apprehensions by which the mind + is distracted both before and after its preparation. The plan and + accomplishment must both be perfect in all their parts—for if either + fail only in a single point, all is lost, and the pleasure arising from + them resembles the fruit which is said to grow by the banks of the Dead + Sea—it is beautiful and tempting to the eye, but bitterness and + ashes to the taste. + </p> + <p> + The failing of the county treasurer, for instance, deprived Bartle + Flanagan of more than one half his revenge. He was certainly far more + anxious to punish the father than the son, and were it not that he saw no + other mode of effecting his vengeance on Fardorougha, than by destroying + the only object on earth that he loved next to his wealth, he would have + never made the innocent pay the penalty of the guilty. As he had gone so + far, however, self-preservation now made him anxious that Connor should + die; as he knew his death would remove out of his way the only person in + existence absolutely acquainted with his villany. One would think, indeed, + that the sentence pronounced upon his victim ought to have satisfied him + on that head. This, however, it failed to do. That sentence contained one + clause, which utterly destroyed the completeness of his design, and filled + his soul with a secret apprehension either of just retribution, or some + future ill which he could not shake off, and for which the reward received + for Connor's apprehension was but an ineffectual antidote. The clause + alluded to in the judge's charge, viz.—“the recommendation of the + jury to the mercy of the Crown, in consideration of your youth, and + previous good conduct, shall not be overlooked”—sounded in his ears + like some mysterious sentence that involved his own fate, and literally + filled his heart with terror and dismay. Independently of all this his + villanous projects had involved him in a systematic course of guilt, which + was yet far from being brought to a close. In fact, he now found by + experience how difficult it is to work out a bad action with success, and + how the means, and plans, and instruments necessary to it must multiply + and become so deep and complicated in guilt, that scarcely any single + intellect, in the case of a person who can be reached by the laws, is + equal to the task of executing a great crime against society, in a perfect + manner. If this were so, discovery would be impossible, and revenge + certain. + </p> + <p> + With respect to Connor himself it is only necessary to say that a short + but well-spent life, and a heart naturally firm, deprived death of its + greatest terrors. Still he felt it, in some depressed moods, a terrible + thing indeed to reflect, that he, in the very fullness of strength and + youth, should be cut down from among his fellows—a victim without a + crime, and laid with shame in the grave of a felon. But he had witnessed + neither his mother's piety nor her example in vain, and it was in the + gloom of his dungeon that he felt the light of both upon his spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said he, “as I am to die, is it not better that I should die + innocent than guilty? Instead of fretting that I suffer, a guiltless man, + surely I ought to thank God that I am so; an' that my soul hasn't to meet + the sin of such a revengeful act as I'm now condemned for. I'll die, then, + like a Christian man, putting my hope and trust in the mercy of my + Redeemer—ever an' always hoping that by His assistance I will be + enabled to do it.” + </p> + <p> + Different, indeed, were the moral state and position of these two young + men; the one, though lying in his prison cell, was sustained by the force + of conscious innocence, and that reliance upon the mercy of God, which + constitutes the highest order of piety, and the noblest basis of + fortitude; the other, on the contrary, disturbed by the tumultuous and + gloomy associations of guilt, and writhing under the conviction, that, + although he had revenge, he had not satisfaction. The terror of crime was + upon him, and he felt himself deprived of that best and only security, + which sets all vain apprehensions at defiance, the consciousness of inward + integrity. Who, after all, would barter an honest heart for the danger + arising from secret villany, when such an apparently triumphant villain as + Bartle Flanagan felt a deadly fear, of Connor O'Donovan in his very + dungeon? Such, however, is guilt, and such are the terrors that accompany + it. + </p> + <p> + The circumstances which, in Ireland, usually follow the conviction of a + criminal, are so similar to each other, that we feel it, even in this + case, unnecessary to do more than give a mere sketch of Connor's brief + life as a culprit. We have just observed that the only clause in the + judge's charge which smote the heart of the traitor, Flanagan, with a + presentiment of evil, was that containing the words in which something + like a, hope of having his sentence mitigated was held out to him, in + consequence of the recommendation to mercy by which the jury accompanied + their verdict. It is very strange, on the other hand, that, at the present + stage of our story, neither his father nor mother knew anything whatsoever + of the judge having given expression to such a hope. The old man, + distracted as he was at the time, heard nothing, or at least remembered + nothing, but the awful appearance of the black cap, or, as they term it in + the country, the barradh dhu, and the paralyzing words in which the + sentence of death was pronounced upon his son. It consequently happened + that the same clause in the charge actually, although in a different + sense, occasioned the misery of Bartle Flanagan on the one hand, and of + Connor's parents on the other. + </p> + <p> + The morning after the trial, Fardorougha was up as early as usual, but his + grief was nearly as vehement and frantic as on the preceding night. It was + observed, however—such is the power of sorrow to humanize and create + sympathy in the heart—that, when he arose, instead of peevishly and + weakly obtruding his grief and care upon those about him, as he was wont + to do, he now kept aloof from the room in which Honor slept, from an + apprehension of disturbing her repose—a fact which none who knew his + previous selfishness would have believed, had he not himself expressed in + strong terms a fear of awakening her. Nor did this new trait of his + character escape the observation of his own servants, especially of his + honest monitor, Nogher M'Cormick. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” exclaimed this rustic philosopher; “see what God's + affliction does. Faith, it has brought Fardorougha to feel a trifle for + others, as well as for himself. Who knows, begad, but it may take the + millstone out of his heart yet; and if it does, my word to you, he may + thank his wife, undher God, for it.” + </p> + <p> + Before leaving home that morning to see his son, he found with deep regret + that Honor's illness had been so much increased by the events of the + preceding day, that she could not leave her bed. And now, for the first + time, a thought, loaded with double anguish, struck upon his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Saver of earth!” he exclaimed, “what would become of me if both should go + and lave me alone? God of heaven, alone! Ay, ay,” he continued, “I see it. + I see how asily God might make my situation still worse than I thought it + could be. Oh God, forgive me my sins; and may God soften my heart! Amin!” + </p> + <p> + He then went to see his wife ere he set out for his unhappy son; and it + was with much satisfaction that Honor observed a changed and chastened + tone in his manner, which she had never, except for a moment at the birth + of his child, noticed before. Not that his grief was much lessened, but it + was more rational, and altogether free from the violence and impiety which + had characterized it when he awoke from his intoxication. + </p> + <p> + “Honor,” said he, “how do you find yourself this mornin', alanna? They + tell me you're worse than you Wor yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, I'm wake enough,” she replied, “and very much bate down, + Fardorougha; but you know it's not our own stringth at any time that we're + to depend upon, but God's. I'm not willing to attempt anything beyant my + power at present. My seeing him now would do neither of us any good, and + might do me a great dale o' harm. I must see him, to be sure, and I'll + strive, plase God, to gather up a little strength for that.” + </p> + <p> + “My heart's breakin', Honor, and I'm beginnin' to see that I've acted a + bad part to both of you all along. I feel it, indeed; and if it was the + will of God, I didn't care if—” + </p> + <p> + “Whisht, accushla, whisht—sich talk as that's not right. Think, + Fardorougha, whether you acted a bad part towards God or not, and never + heed us; an' think, too, dear, whether you acted a bad or a good part + towards the poor, an' them that was in distress and hardship, an' that + came to you for relief; they were your fellow-crathers, Fardorougha, at + all evints. Think of these things I'm sayin, and never heed us. You know + that Connor and I forgive you, but you arn't so sure whether God and them + will.” + </p> + <p> + These observations of this estimable woman had the desired effect, which + was, as she afterwards said, to divert her husband's mind as much as + possible from the contemplation of Connor's fate, and to fix it upon the + consideration of those duties in which she knew his conscience, now + touched by calamity, would tell him he had been deficient. + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha was silent for some time after her last observations—but + at length he observed: + </p> + <p> + “Would it be possible, Honor, that all this was brought upon us in ordher + to punish me for—for—” + </p> + <p> + “To punish you, Fardorougha? Fareer gaih avourneen, arn't we all punished? + look at my worn face, and think of what ten days' sorrow can do in a + mother's heart—think, too, of the boy. Oh no, no—do you think + I've have nothin' to be punished for? But we have all one comfort, + Fardorougha, and that is, that God's ever and always willin' to re-save + us, when we turn to Him wid a true heart? Nobody, avillish, can forget and + forgive as He does.” + </p> + <p> + “Honor, why didn't you oftener spake to me this a-way than you did?” + </p> + <p> + “I often did, dear, an' you may remember it; but you were then strong; you + had your wealth; everything flowed wid you, an' the same wealth—the + world's temptation—was strong in your heart; but God has taken it + from you I hope as a blessing—for, indeed, Fardorougha, I'm afeard + if you had it now, that neither he nor—but I won't say it, dear, for + God sees I don't wish to say one word that 'ud distress you now, + avourneen. Any how, Fardorougha, never despair in God's goodness—never + do it; who can tell what may happen?” + </p> + <p> + Her husband's grief was thus checked, and a train of serious reflection + laid, which, like some of those self-evident convictions that fastened on + the awakened conscience, the old man could not shake off. + </p> + <p> + Honor, in her further conversation with him, touching the coming interview + with the unhappy culprit, desired him, above all things, to set “their + noble boy” an example of firmness, and by no means to hold out to him any + expectation of life. + </p> + <p> + “It would be worse than murdher,” she exclaimed, “to do so. No—prepare + him by your advice, Fardorougha, ay, and by your example, to be firm—and + tell him that his mother expects he will die like an innocent man—noble + and brave—and not like a guilty coward, afeard to look up and meet + his God.” + </p> + <p> + Infidels and hypocrites, so long as their career in vice is unchecked by + calamity, will no doubt sneer when we assure them, that Fardorougha, after + leaving his wife that morning once more to visit his son, felt a sense of + relief, or, perhaps we should say, a breaking of faint light upon his + mind, which, slight as it was, afforded him more comfort and support than + he ever hoped to experience. Indeed, it was almost impossible for any + heart to exist within the influence of that piety which animated his + admirable wife, and not catch the holy fire which there burned with such + purity and brightness. + </p> + <p> + Ireland, however, abounds with such instances of female piety and + fortitude, not, indeed, as they would be made to appear in the unfeminine + violence of political turmoil, in which a truly pious female would not + embroil herself; but in the quiet recesses of domestic life—in the + hard struggles against poverty, and in those cruel visitations, where the + godly mother is forced to see her innocent son corrupted by the dark + influence of political crime, drawn within the vortex of secret + confederacy, and subsequently yielding up his life to the outraged laws of + that country which he assisted to distract. It is in scenes like these + that the unostentatious magnanimity of the pious Irish wife or mother may + be discovered; and it is here where, as the night and storms of life + darken her path, the holy fortitude of her heart shines with a lustre + proportioned to the depth of the gloom around her. + </p> + <p> + When Fardorougha reached the town in which his ill-fated son occupied the + cell of a felon, he found to his surprise that, early as were his habits, + there were others whose movements were still more early than his own. John + O'Brien had come to town—been with his attorney—had got a + memorial in behalf of Connor to the Irish government, engrossed, and + actually signed by more than one—half of the jury who tried him—all + before the hour of ten o'clock. A copy of thi's document, which was + written by O'Brien himself, now lies before us, with the names of all the + jurors attached to it; and a more beautiful or affecting piece of + composition we have never read. The energy and activity of O'Brien were + certainly uncommon, and so, indeed, were his motives. As he himself told + Fardorougha, whom he met as the latter entered the town— + </p> + <p> + “I would do what I have done for Connor, although I have never yet + exchanged a syllable with him. Yet, I do assure you, Fardorougha, that I + have other motives—which you shall never know—far stronger + than any connected with the fate of your son. Now, don't misunderstand + me.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the helpless old man, who was ignorant of the condition of + his sister, “I will not, indeed—I'd be long sarry.” + </p> + <p> + O'Brien saw that any rational explanation he might give would be only + thrown away upon a man who seemed to be so utterly absorbed and stupefied + by the force of his own sufferings. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old man,” he exclaimed, as Fardorougha left him, to visit Connor; + “see what affliction does? There are thousands now who pity you—even + you, whom almost every one who knew you, cursed and detested.” + </p> + <p> + Such, indeed, was the fact. The old man's hardness of heart was forgotten + in the pity that was produced by the dreadful fate which awaited his + unhappy son. We must now pass briefly over occurrences which are better + understood when left to the reader's imagination. John O'Brien was not the + only one who interested himself in the fate of Connor. Fardorougha, as a + matter of course, got the priest of the parish, a good and pious man, to + draw up a memorial in the name, as he said, of himself and his wife. The + gentry of the neighborhood, also, including the members of the grand jury, + addressed government on his behalf—for somehow there was created + among those who knew the parties, or even who heard the history of their + loves, a sympathy which resulted more from those generous impulses that + intuitively perceive truth, than from the cooler calculations of reason. + The heart never reasons—it is, therefore, the seat of feeling, and + the fountain of mercy; the head does—and it is probably on that + account the seat of justice, often of severity, and not unfrequently of + cruelty and persecution, Connor himself was much relieved by that day's + interview with his father. Even he could perceive a change for the better + in the old man's deportment. Fardorougha's praises of Honor, and his + strong allusions to the support and affection he experienced at her hands, + under circumstances so trying, were indeed well calculated to prepare “her + noble boy,” as she truly called him, for the reception of the still more + noble message which she sent him. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said he, as they separated that day, “tell my mother that I will + die as she wishes me; and tell her, too, that if I wasn't an innocent man, + I could not do it. And oh, father,” he added, and he seized his hands, and + fell upon his neck, “oh, father dear, if you love me, your own Connor—and + I know you do—oh, then, father dear, I say again, be guided in this + heavy affliction by my dear mother's advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” returned the old man, deeply affected, “I will. I had made my + mind up to that afore I saw you at all to-day. Connor, do you know what + I'm beginning to think?” + </p> + <p> + “No, father dear, I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, it's this, that she'll be the manes of savin' your father's + soul. Connor, I can look back now upon my money—all I lost—it + was no doubt terrible—terrible all out. Connor, my rint is due, and + I haven't the manes of meetin' it.” + </p> + <p> + Alas! thought the boy, how hard it is to root altogether out of the heart + that principle which inclines it to the love of wealth! + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, I will take your advice, Connor, and be guided by your + mother. She's very poorly, or she'd be wid you afore now; but, indeed, + Connor, her health is the occasion of it—it is—it is!” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha's apology for his wife contained much more truth than he + himself was aware of at the time he made it. On returning home that night + he found her considerably worse, but, as she had been generally healthy, + he very naturally ascribed her illness to the affliction she felt for the + fate of their son. In this, however, he was mistaken, as the original + cause of it was unconnected with the heavy domestic dispensation which had + fallen upon them. So far as she was concerned, the fate of her boy would + have called up from her heart fresh energy and' if possible a higher order + of meek but pious courage.—She would not have left him unsustained + and uncherished, had the physical powers of the mother been able to second + the sacred principles with which she met and triumphed over the trial that + was laid upon her. + </p> + <p> + It was one evening about ten days after O'Donovan's conviction that Bodagh + Buie O'Brien's wife sat by the bedside of her enfeebled and languishing + daughter. The crisis of her complaint had passed the day before; and a + very slight improvement, visible only to the eye of her physician, had + taken place. Her delirium remained much as before; sometimes returning + with considerable violence, and again leaving reason, though feeble and + easily disturbed, yet when unexcited by external causes, capable of + applying its powers to the circumstances around her. On this occasion the + mother, who watched every motion and anticipated every wish of the beloved + one, saw that she turned her eye several times upon her as if some + peculiar anxiety distressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Una, jewel,” she at length inquired, “is there anything you want, colleen + maehree; or anything I can do for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Come near me, mother,” she replied, “come near me.” + </p> + <p> + Her mother approached her still more nearly. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid,” she said, in a very low voice, “I'm afraid to ask it.” + </p> + <p> + “Only wait for a minute or two,” said her mother, “an' John will—but + here's the doctor's foot; they wor spakin' a word or two below; an' + whisper, darlin' o' my heart, sure John has something to tell you—something + that will”— + </p> + <p> + She looked with a searching anxiety into her mother's face; and it might + have been perceived that the morning twilight of hope beamed faintly but + beautifully upon her pale features. The expression that passed over them + was indeed so light and transient that one could scarcely say she smiled; + yet that a more perceptible serenity diffused its gentle irradiation over + her languid countenance was observed even by her mother. + </p> + <p> + The doctor's report was favorable. + </p> + <p> + “She is slowly improving,” he said, on reaching the parlor, “since + yesterday; I'm afraid, however, she's too weak at present to sustain this + intelligence. I would recommend you to wait for a day or two, and in the + meantime to assume a cheerful deportment, and to break it to her rather by + your looks and manner than by a direct or abrupt communication.” + </p> + <p> + They promised to observe his directions; but when her mother informed them + of the hint she herself threw out to her, they resolved to delay the + matter no longer; and John, in consequence of what his mother had led her + to expect, went to break the intelligence to her as well as he could. An + expectation had been raised in her mind, and he judged properly enough + that there was less danger in satisfying it than in leaving her just then + in a state of such painful uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Una,” said he, “I am glad to hear the doctor say that you are + better.” + </p> + <p> + “I think I am a little,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “What was my mother saying to you, just now, before the doctor was with + you? But why do you look at me so keenly, Una?” said he, cheerfully; “it's + sometime since you saw me in such a good humor—isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + She paused for a moment herself; and her brother could observe that the + hope which his manner was calculated to awaken, lit itself into a faiut + smile rather visible in her eyes than on her features. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I believe you are smiling yourself, Una.” + </p> + <p> + “John,” said she, earnestly, “is it good?” + </p> + <p> + “It is, darling—he won't die.” + </p> + <p> + “Kiss me, kiss me,” she said; “may eternal blessings rest upon you!” + </p> + <p> + She then kissed him affectionately, laid her head back upon the pillow, + and John saw with delight that the large tears of happiness rolled in + torrents down her palo cheeks. + </p> + <p> + It was indeed true that Connor O'Donovan was not to die. The memorials + which had reached government from so many quarters, backed as they were by + very powerful influence, and detailing as they did a case of such very + romantic interest, could scarcely fail in arresting the execution of so + stern and deadly a sentence. It was ascertained, too, by the intercourse + of his friends with government, that the judge who tried his case, + notwithstanding the apparent severity of his charge, had been moved by an + irresistible impulse to save him, and he actually determined from the + beginning to have his sentence commuted to transportation for life. + </p> + <p> + The happy effect of this communication on Una O'Brien diffused a cheerful + spirit among her family and relatives, who, in truth, had feared that her + fate would ultimately depend upon that of her lover. After having been + much relieved by the copious flood of tears she shed, and heard with + composure all the details connected with the mitigation of his sentence, + she asked her brother if Connor's parents had been yet made acquainted + with it. + </p> + <p> + “I think not,” he replied; “the time is too short.” + </p> + <p> + “John,” said the affectionate girl, “oh, consider his mother; and think of + the misery that one single hour's knowledge of this may take away from her + heart! Go to her, my dear John, and may all the blessings of heaven rest + upon you!” + </p> + <p> + “Good—by, then, Una dear; I will go.” + </p> + <p> + He took her worn hand in his, as he spoke, and, looking on her with + affectionate admiration, added— + </p> + <p> + “Yes! good-by, my darling sister; believe me, Una, that I think if there's + justice in Heaven, you'll have a light heart yet.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very light now,” she returned, “compared with what it was; but go, + John, don't lose a moment; for I know what they suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Her mother, after John's departure for Fardorougha's, went up to sit with + her; but she found that the previous scene, although it relieved, had + exhausted her. In the course of a few minutes their limited dialogue + ceased, and she sank into a sound and refreshing sleep, from which she did + not awaken until her brother had some time returned from the execution of + his pious message. And piously was that message received by her for whose + misery the considerate heart of Una O'Brien felt so deeply. Fardorougha + had been out about the premises, mechanically looking to the manner in + which the business of his farm had been of late managed by his two + servants, when he descried O'Brien approaching the house at a quick if not + a hurried pace. He immediately went in and communicated the circumstance + to his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Honor,” said he, “here is Bodagh Buie's son comin' up to the house—what + on earth can bring the boy here?” + </p> + <p> + This was the first day on which his wife had been able to rise from her + sick bed. She was consequently feeble, and, physically speaking, capable + of no domestic exertion. Her mind, however, was firm as ever, and prompt + as before her calamity to direct and overlook, in her own sweet and + affectionate manner, whatever required her superintendence. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I don't know, Fardorougha,” she replied. “It can't, I hope, be + wid bad news—they thravel fast enough—an' I'm sure the + Bodagh's son wouldn't take pleasure in bein' the first to tell them to + us.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can bring him, Honor? What on earth can bring the boy here now, + that never stood undher our roof afore?” + </p> + <p> + “Three or four minutes, Fardorougha, will tell us. Let us hope in God it + isn't bad. Eh, Saver above, it wouldn't be the death of his sister—of + Connor's Oona! No,” she added, “they wouldn't send, much less come, to + tell vis that; but sure we'll hear it—we'll hear it; and may God + give us stringth to hear it right, whether it's good or bad! Amin, Jasus, + this day!” + </p> + <p> + She had hardly uttered the last words, when O'Brien entered. + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” said this superior woman, '“it's a poor welcome we can give + you to a house of sorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay,” said Fardorougha, “his mother an' I's here, but where is he? Nine + days from this; but it 'ill kill me—it will—it will. Whin he's + taken from me, I don't care how soon I folly him; God forgive me if it's a + sin to say so!” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” said his wife, in a tone of affectionate reproof, “remember + what you promised me, an', at all evints, you forget that Mr. O'Brien here + may have his own troubles; I heard your sister was unwell. Oh, how is she, + poor thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, a great deal better; I will not deny but she heard a piece + of intelligence this day, that has relieved her mind and taken a dead + weight off her heart.” + </p> + <p> + Honor, with uncommon firmness and solemnity of manner, placed her hand + upon his shoulder, and, looking him earnestly in the face, said, + </p> + <p> + “That news is about our son?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” replied O'Brien, “and it's good; his sentence is changed, and he + is not to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Not to die!” shrieked the old man, starting up, and clapping his hands + frantically—“not to die! our son—Connor, Connor—not to + be hanged—not to be hanged! Did you say that, son of O'Brien Buie, + did you—did you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did,” replied the other; “he will not suffer.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that's God,” ejaculated Fardorougha, wildly; “that's God an' his + mother's prayers. Boys,” he shrieked, “come here; come here, Biddy Nulty, + come her; Connor's not to die; he won't suffer—he won't suffer!” + </p> + <p> + He was rushing wildly to the door, but Honor placed herself before him, + and said, in that voice of calmness which is uniformly that of authority + and power: + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, dear, calm yourself. If this is God's work, as you say, why + not resave it as comm' from God? It's upon your two knees you ought to + drop, an'—Saver above, what's the matther wid him? He's off; keep + him up. Oh, God bless you! that's it, avourneen; jist place him on the + chair there fornext the door, where he can have air. Here, dear,” said she + to Biddy Nulty, who, on hearing herself called by her master, had come in + from another room; “get some feathers, Biddy, till we burn them undher his + nose; but first fetch a jug of cold water.” + </p> + <p> + On looking at the face of the miser, O'Brien started, as indeed well he + might, at such a pallid, worn, and death—like countenance; why, + thought he to himself, surely this must be death, and the old man's cares, + and sorrows, and hopes, are all passed forever. + </p> + <p> + Honor now bathed his face, and wet his lips with water, and as she + sprinkled and rubbed back the gray hair from his emaciate! temples, there + might be read there an expression of singular wildness that resembles the + wreck produced by insanity. + </p> + <p> + “He looks ill,” observed O'Brien, who actually thought him dead; “but I + hope it won't signify.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust in God's mercy it won't,” replied Honor; “for till his heart, + poor man, is brought more to God—” + </p> + <p> + She paused with untaught delicacy, for she reflected that he was her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “For that matther, who is there,” she continued, “that is fit to go to + their last account at a moment's warnin'? That's a good girl, Biddy; give + me the feathers; there's nothing like them. Dheah Gratihias! Dheah + Gratihias!” she exclaimed, “he's not—he's not—an' I was afeard + he was—no, he's recoverin'. Shake him; rouse him a little; + Fardorougha, dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Where—where am I?” exclaimed her husband; “what is this? what ails + me?” + </p> + <p> + He then looked inquiringly at his wife and O'Brien; but it appeared that + the presence of the latter revived in his mind the cause of his + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Is it—is it thrue, young man? tell me—tell me!” + </p> + <p> + “How, dear, can any one have spirits to tell you good news, when you can't + bear it aither like a man or a Christian?” + </p> + <p> + “Good news! You say, then, it's thrue, an' he's not to be hanged by the + neck, as the judge said; an' my curse—my heavy curse upon him for a + judge!” + </p> + <p> + “I hate to hear the words of his sentence, Fardorougha,” said the wife; + “but if you have patience you'll find that his life's granted to him; an', + for Heaven's sake, curse nobody. The judge only did his duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he exclaimed, sinking upon his knees, “now, from this day out, let + what will happen, I'll stick to my duty to God—I'll repent—I'll + repent and lead a new life. I will, an' while I'm alive I'll never say a + word against the will of my heavenly Saviour; never, never.” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha,” replied his—wife, “it's good, no doubt, to have a + grateful heart to God; but I'm afeard there's sin in what you're sayin', + for you know, dear, that, whether it plased the Almighty to take yur boy, + or not, what you've promised to do is your duty. It's like sayin', 'I'll + now turn my heart bekase God has deserved it at my hands.' Still, dear, + I'm not goin' to condimn you, only I think it's betther an' safer to love + an' obey God for His own sake! blessed be His holy name!” + </p> + <p> + Young O'Brien was forcibly struck by the uncommon character of Honor + O'Donovan. Her patience, good sense, and sincere acquiescence in the will + of God, under so severe a trial, were such as he had never seen: equalled. + Nor could he help admitting to himself, while contemplating her conduct, + that the example of such a woman was not only the most beautiful comment + on religious truth, but the noblest testimony of its power. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Honor,” said the husband, in reply, “you're right, for I know that + what you say is always thrue. It is, indeed,” he added, addressing + O'Brien, “she's aquil to a prayer-book.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and far superior to any,” replied the latter; “for she not only + gives you the advice, but sets you the example.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, the sorra lie in it; an', oh, Honor, he's not to die—he's not + to be h——, not to suffer. Our son's to live! Oh, Saver of + earth, make me thankful this day!” + </p> + <p> + The tears ran fast from his eyes as he looked up to heaven, and uttered, + the last; words. Indeed, it was impossible not to feel deep compassion for + this aged man, whose heart had been smitten so heavily, and on the only + two points where it was capable of feeling the blow. + </p> + <p> + After having indulged his grief for some time, he became considerably more + composed, if not cheerful. Honor made many kind inquiries after Una's + health, to which her brother answered with strict candor, for he had heard + from Una that she was acquainted with the whole history of their + courtship. + </p> + <p> + “Who knows,” said she, speaking with reference to their melancholy fate, + “but the God who has saved his life, an' most likely hers, may yet do more + for them both? While there's life there's hope.” + </p> + <p> + “Young man,” said Fardorougha, “you carry a blessin' wid you wherever you + go, an' may God bless you for the news you have brought to us this day! + I'll go to see him tomorrow, an' wid a light heart I'll go too, for my son + is not to die.” + </p> + <p> + O'Brien then took his leave and returned home, pondering, as he went, upon + the singular contrast which existed between the character of the miser and + that of his admirable wife. He was no sooner gone than Honor addressed her + husband as follows: + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, what do you think we ought both to do now afther the happy + news we've heard?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be guided by you, Honor; I'll be guided by you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said she, “go an' thank God that has taken the edge, the bitther, + keen edge off of our sufferin'; an' the best way, in my opinion, for you + to do it, is to go to the barn by yourself, an' strive to put your whole + heart into your prayers. You'll pray betther by yourself than wid me. An' + in the name of God I'll do the same as well as I can in the house here. + To-morrow, too, is Friday, an', plaise our Saviour, we'll both fast in + honor of His goodness to us an' to our son.” + </p> + <p> + “We will, Honor,” said he, “we will, indeed; for now I have spirits to + fast, and spirits to pray, too. What will I say, now? Will I say the five + Decades or the whole Rosary?” + </p> + <p> + “If you can keep your mind in the prayers, I think you ought to say the + whole of it; but if you wandher don't say more than the five.” + </p> + <p> + Fardorougha then went to the bam, rather because his wife desired him, + than from a higher motive, whilst she withdrew to her own apartment, there + humbly to worship God in thanksgiving. + </p> + <p> + The next day had made the commutation of Connor's punishment a matter of + notoriety through the whole parish, and very sincere indeed was the + gratification it conveyed to all who heard it. Public fame, it is true, + took her usual liberties with the facts. Some said he had got a free + pardon, others that he was to be liberated after six months' imprisonment; + and a third report asserted that the lord lieutenant sent him down a + hundred pounds to fit him out for marriage with Una; and it further added + that his excellency wrote a letter with his own hand, to Bodagh Buie, + desiring him to give his daughter to Connor on receipt of it, or if not, + that the Knight of the Black Rod would come down, strip him of his + property, and bestow it upon Connor and his daughter. + </p> + <p> + The young man himself was almost one of the first who heard of this + favorable change in his dreadful sentence. + </p> + <p> + He was seated on his bedside reading, when the sheriff and jailer entered + his cell, anxious to lay before him the reply which had that morning + arrived from government. + </p> + <p> + “I'm inclined to think, O'Donovan, that your case is likely to turn out + more favorably than we expected,” said the humane sheriff. + </p> + <p> + “I hope, with all my heart, it may,” replied the other; “there is no + denying, sir, that I'd wish it. Life is sweet, especially to a young man + of my years.” + </p> + <p> + “But if we should fail,” observed the jailer, “I trust you will act the + part of a man.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope, at all events, that I will act the part of a Christian,” returned + O'Donovan. “I certainly would rather live; but I'm not afeard of death, + and if it comes, I trust I will meet it humbly but firmly.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe,” said the sheriff, “you need entertain little apprehension of + death; I'm inclined to think that that part of your sentence is not likely + to be put in execution. I have heard as much.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, sir, by your manner, that you have,” returned Connor; “but I beg + you to tell me without goin' about. Don't be afeared, sir, that I'm too + wake to hear either good news or bad.” + </p> + <p> + The sheriff made no reply; but placed in his hands the official document + which remitted to him the awful penalty of his life. Connor read it over + slowly, and the other kept his eye fixed keenly upon his countenance, in + order to observe his bearing under circumstances that are often known to + test human fortitude as severely as death itself. He could, however, + perceive no change; not even the unsteadiness of a nerve or muscle was + visible, nor the slightest fluctuation in the hue of his complexion. + </p> + <p> + “I feel grateful to the lord lieutenant for his mercy to me,” said he, + handing him back the letter, “as I do to the friends who interceded for + me; I never will or can forget their goodness. Oh, never, never!” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it,” said the sheriff; “but there's one thing that I'm anxious + to press upon your attention; and it's this, that no further mitigation of + your punishment is to be expected from government; so that you must make + up your mind to leave your friends and your country for life, as you know + now.” + </p> + <p> + “I expect nothing more,” returned Connor, “except this, that the hand of + God may yet bring the guilt of burning home to the man that committed it, + and prove my innocence. I'm <i>now</i> not without some hope that such a + thing may be brought about some how. I thank you, Misther Sheriff, for + your kindness in coming to me with this good news so soon; all that I can + say is, that I thank you from my heart. I am bound to say, too, that any + civility and comfort that could be shown was afforded me ever since I came + here, an' I feel it, an' I'm grateful for it.” + </p> + <p> + Both were deeply impressed by the firm tone of manly sincerity and + earnestness with which he spoke, blended as it was by a melancholy which + gave, at the same time, a character of elevation and pathos to all he + said. They then shook hands with him, after chatting for some time on + indifferent subjects, the jailer promising to make his situation while he + should remain in prison as easy as the regulations would allow him or, + “who knows,” he added, smiling, “but we might make them a little easier?” + </p> + <p> + “That's a fine young fellow,” said he to the sheriff, after they had left + him. + </p> + <p> + “He is a gentleman,” replied the sherif “by nature a gentleman; and a very + uncommon one, too. I defy a man to doubt word that comes out of his lips; + all he says is impressed with the stamp of truth itself and by h——n's + he never committed the felony he's in for! Keep him as comfortable as you + can.” + </p> + <p> + They then separated. + </p> + <p> + The love of life is the first and strong principle in our nature, and what + man is there except some unhappy wretch pressed down by long and galling + misery to the uttermost depths of despair, who, knows that life was + forfeited, whether justly or it matters little, to the laws of his country + will not feel the mercy which bids him live with a corresponding sense of + gratitude. The son of the pious mother acted, as if she was still his + guide and monitress. + </p> + <p> + He knelt down and poured out his gratitude to that great Being who had the + final claim upon it, and whose blessing he fervently invoked upon the + heads of those true friends by whose exertions and influence he knew that + life was restored to him. + </p> + <p> + Of his life while he remained in this country there is little more to be + said than what is usually known to occur in the case of of convicts + similarly circumstanced, if we exclude his separation from the few persons + who were dear to him. He saw his father the next day and the old man felt + almost disappointed discovering that he was deprived of the pleasure which + he proposed to himself of be the bearer of such glad tidings to him. Those + who visited him, however, noticed with a good deal of surprise, that he + appeared as laboring under some secret aim which, however, no tact or + address on their part could induce him to disclose. Many of them, actuated + by the best motives, asked him in distinct terms why he appeared to be + troubled; but the only reply they received was a good-humored remark that + it was not to be expected that he could leave forever all that was dear to + him on earth with a very cheerful spirit. + </p> + <p> + It was at this period that his old friend Nogher M'Cormick came to pay him + a visit; it being the last time, as he said, that he would ever have an + opportunity of seeing his face. Nogher, whose moral impressions were by no + means so correct as Connor's, asked him, with a face of dry, peculiar + mystery, if he had any particular wish unfulfilled; or if there remained + behind him any individual against whom he entertained a spirit of enmity. + If there were he begged him to make no scruple in entrusting to him a full + statement of his wishes on the subject, adding that he might rest assured + of having them accomplished. + </p> + <p> + “One thing you may be certain of, Nogher,” said he, to the affectionate + fellow, “that I have no secrets to tell; so don't let that go abroad upon + me. I have heard to-day,” he added, “that the vessel we are to go in will + sail on this day week. My father was here this mornin'; but I hadn't heard + it then. Will you, Nogher, tell my mother privately that she mustn't come + to see me on the day I appointed with my father? From the state of health + she's in, I'm tould she couldn't bear it. Tell her, then, not to come till + the day before I sail; an' that I will expect to see her early on that + day. And, Nogher, as you know more about this unhappy business than any + one else, except the O'Briens and ourselves, will you give this little + packet to my mother? There's three or four locks of my hair in it; one of + them is for Una; and desire my mother to see Una, and to get a link of her + hair to wear next my heart. My poor father—now that he finds he must + part with me—is so distracted and distressed, that I couldn't trust + him with this message. I want it to be kept a secret to every one but you, + my mother, and Una; but my poor father would he apt to mention it in some + fit of grief.” + </p> + <p> + “But is there nothing else on your mind, Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “There's no heavy guilt on my mind, Nogher, I thank my God and my dear + mother for it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I can tell you one thing before you go, Connor—Bartle + Flanagan's well watched. If he has been guilty—if—derry downs, + who doubts it'?—well never mind; I'll hould a trifle we get him to + show the cloven foot, and condemn himself yet.” + </p> + <p> + “The villain,” said Connor, “will be too deep—too polished for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten to one he's not. Do you know what we've found out since this + business?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the divil resave the squig of punch, whiskey, or liquor of any sort + or size he'll allow to pass the lips of him. Now, Connor, aren't you up to + the cunnin' villainy of the thraitor in that maynewvre?” + </p> + <p> + “I am, Nogher; I see his design in it. He is afeard if he got drunk that + he wouldn't be able to keep his own secret.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, by the holy Nelly, we'll sleep him yet, or he'll look sharp. + Never you mind him, Connor.” + </p> + <p> + “Nogher! stop,” said Connor, almost angrily, “stop; what do you mane by + them last words?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a much; it's about the blaggard I'm spakin'; he'll be ped, I can + tell you. There's a few friends of yours that intinds, some o' these + nights, to open a gusset under one of his ears only; the divil a thing + more.” + </p> + <p> + “What! to take the unhappy man's life—to murdher him?” + </p> + <p> + “Hut, Connor; who's spakin' about murdher? No, only to make him miss his + breath some night afore long. Does he desarve mercy that 'ud swear away + the life of an innocent man?” + </p> + <p> + “Nogher,” replied the other, rising up and speaking with the utmost + solemnity— + </p> + <p> + “If one drop of his blood is spilt on my account, it will bring the + vengeance of Heaven upon the head of every man havin' a hand in it. Will + you, because he's a villain, make yourself murdherers—make + yourselves blacker than he is?” + </p> + <p> + “Wiry, thin, death alive! Connor, have you your seven sinsis about you? + Faith, that's good; as if it was a sin to knock such a white-livered Judas + upon the head! Sin!—oh hell resave the morsel o' sin in that but the + contrairy. Sure its only sarvin' honest people right, to knock such a + desaiver on the head. If he had parjured himself for sake of the truth, or + to assist a brother in trouble—or to help on the good cause—it + would be something; but to go to—but—arra, be me sowl, he'll + sup sarra for it, sure enough! I thought it would make your mind aisy, or + I wouldn't mintion it till we'd let the breath out of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Nogher,” said Connor, “before you leave this unfortunate room, you must + take the Almighty to witness that you'll have no hand in this bloody + business, an' that you'll put a stop to it altogether. If you don't, and + that his life is taken, in the first place, I'll be miserable for life; + and in the next, take my word for it, that the judgment of God will fall + heavily upon every one consarned in it.” + </p> + <p> + “What for? Is it for slittin' the juggler of sich a rip? Isn't he as bad + as a heretic, an' worse, for he turned against his own. He has got himself + made the head of a lodge, too, and holds Articles; but it's not bein' an + Article-bearer that'll save him, an' he'll find that to his cost. But, + indeed, Connor, the villain's a double thraitor, as you'd own, if you knew + what I heard a hint of?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but you must lave him to God.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think but I got a whisper that he has bad designs on her.” + </p> + <p> + “On who?” said O'Donovan (starting). + </p> + <p> + “Why, on your own girl, Oona, the Bodagh's daughter. He intends, it's + whispered, to take her off; an' it seems, as her father doesn't stand well + with the boys, that Bartle's to get a great body of them to assist him in + bringing her away.” + </p> + <p> + Connor paced his cell in deep and vehement agitation. His resentment + against this double-dyed villain rose to a fearful pitch; his color + deepened-his eye shot fire, and, as he clenched his hand convulsively, + Nogher saw the fury which this intelligence had excited in him. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he proceeded, “it would be an open sin an' shame to let such an + etarnal limb of the devil escape.” + </p> + <p> + It may, indeed, be said that O'Donovan never properly felt the sense of + his restraint until this moment. When he reflected on the danger to which + his beloved Una was exposed from the dark plans of this detestable + villain, and recollected that there existed in the members of the illegal + confederacy such a strong spirit of enmity against Bodagh Buie, as would + induce them to support Bartle in his designs upon his daughter, he pressed + his hand against his forehead, and walked about in a tumult of distress + and resentment, such as he had never yet felt in his bosom. + </p> + <p> + “It's a charity it will be,” said Nogher, shrewdly availing himself of the + commotion he had created, “to stop the vagabone short in the coorse of his + villany. He'll surely bring the darlin' young girl off, an' destroy her.” + </p> + <p> + For a few moments he felt as if his heart were disposed to rebel against + the common ordinances of Providence, as they appeared to be manifested in + his own punishment, and the successful villainy of Bartle Flanagan. The + reflection, however, of a strong and naturally pious mind soon enabled him + to perceive the errors into which his passions would lead him, if not + restrained and subjected. He made an effort to be calm, and in a + considerable degree succeeded. + </p> + <p> + “Nogher,” said he, “let us not forget that this Bartle—this—but + I will not say it—let us not forget that God can asily turn his + plans against himself. To God, then, let us lave him. Now, hear me—you + must swear in His presence that you will have neither act nor part in + doing him an injury—that you will not shed his blood, nor allow it + to be shed by others, as far as you can prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + Nogher rubbed his chin gravely, and almost smiled at what he considered to + be a piece of silly nonsense on the part of Connor. He determined, + therefore, to satisfy his scruples as well as he could; but, let the + consequence be what it might, to evade such an oath. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Connor,” said he, “surely, if you go to that, we can have no + ill-will against the d—n villain; an' as you don't wish it, we'll + dhrop—the thing; so now make your mind aisy, for another word you or + any one else won't ever hear about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And you won't injure the man?” + </p> + <p> + “Hut! no,” replied Nogher, with a gravity whose irony was barely + perceptible, “what would we murdher him for, now that you don't wish it? I + never had any particular wish to see my own funeral.” + </p> + <p> + “And, Nogher, you will do all you can to prevent him from being + murdhered?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, Connor—to be sure. By He that made me, we won't give + pain to a single hair of his head. Are you satisfied now?” + </p> + <p> + “I am,” replied the ingenuous young man, who was himself too candid to see + through the sophistry of Nogher's oath. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Nogher,” he replied, “many a day have we spent together—you + are one of my oldest friends. I suppose this is the last time you will + ever see Connor O.'Donovan; however, don't, man—don't be cast down; + you will hear from me, I hope, and hear that I am well too.” + </p> + <p> + He uttered this with a smile which cost him an effort; for, on looking + into the face of his faithful old friend, he saw his muscles working under + the influence of strong feeling—or, I should rather say, deep sorrow—which + he felt anxious, by a show of cheerfulness, to remove. The fountains, + however, of the old servant's heart were opened, and, after some + ineffectual attempts to repress his grief, he fell upon Connor's neck, and + wept aloud. + </p> + <p> + “Tut, Nogher,” said Connor, “surely it's—glad you ought to be, + instead of sorry. What would you have done if my first sentence had been + acted upon?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad for your sake,” replied the other, “but I'm now sorry for my + own. You will live, Connor, and you may yet be happy; but he that often + held you in his arms—that often played with you, and that, next to + your father and mother, you loved betther than any other livin'—he, + poor Nogher, will never see his boy more.” + </p> + <p> + On uttering these words, he threw himself again upon Connor's neck, and we + are not ashamed to say that their tears flowed together. + </p> + <p> + “I'll miss you, Connor, dear; I'll not see your face at fair or market, + nor on the chapel—green of a Sunday. Your poor father will break his + heart, and the mother's eye will never more have an opportunity of being + proud out of her son. It's hard upon me to part wid you, Connor, but it + can't be helped; I only ax you to remember Nogher, that, you know, loved + you as if you wor his own; remimber me, Connor, of an odd time. I never + thought—oh, Grod, I never thought to see this day! No wondher—oh, + no wondher that the fair young crature should be pale and worn, an' sick + at heart! I love her now, an' ever will, as well as I did yourself. I'll + never see her, Connor, widout thinkin' heavily of him that her heart was + set upon, an' that will then be far away from her an' from all that ever + loved him.” + </p> + <p> + “Nogher,” replied Connor, “I'm not without hope that—but this—this + is folly. You know I have a right to be thankful to God and the goodness + of government for sparin' my life. Now, farewell—it is forever, + Nogher, an' it is a tryin' word to-day; but you know that every one goin' + to America must say it; so, think that I'm goin' there, an' it won't + signify.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Connor, I wish I could,” replied Nogher; “but, to tell the truth, + what breaks my heart is, to think of the way you are goin' from us. + Farewell, then, Connor darlin; an' may the blessin' of God, an' His holy + mother, an' of all the saints be upon you now an' foriver. Amin!” + </p> + <p> + His tears flowed fast, and he sobbed aloud, whilst uttering the last + words; he then threw his arms about Connor's neck, and, having kissed him, + he again wrung his hand, and passed out of the cell in an agony of grief. + </p> + <p> + Such is the anomalous nature of that peculiar temperament, which, in + Ireland, combines within it the extremes of generosity and crime. Here was + a man who had been literally affectionate and harmless during his whole + past life, yet, who was now actually plotting the murder of a person who + had never,—except remotely, by his treachery to Connor, whom he + loved—rendered him an injury, or given him any cause of offence. And + what can show us the degraded state of moral feeling among a people whose + natural impulses are as quick to virtue as to vice, and the reckless + estimate which the peasantry form of human life, more clearly than the + fact, that Connor, the noble—minded, heroic, and pious peasant, + could admire the honest attachment of hia old friend, without dwelling + upon the dark point in his character, and mingle his tears with a man who + was deliberately about to join in, or encompass, the assassination of a + fellow-creature! + </p> + <p> + Even against persons of his own creed the Irishman thinks that revenge is + a duty which he owes to himself;—but against those of a different + faith it is not only a duty but a virtue—and any man who acts out of + this feeling, either as a juror, a witness, or an elector—for the + principle is the same—must expect to meet such retribution as was + suggested by a heart like Nogher M'Cormick's, which was otherwise + affectionate and honest. In the secret code of perverted honor by which + Irishmen are guided, he is undoubtedly the most heroic and manly, and the + most worthy also of imitation, who indulges in, and executes his vengeance + for injuries whether real or supposed, with the most determined and + unshrinking spirit; but the man who is capable of braving death, by + quoting his own innocence as an argument against the justice of law, even + when notoriously guilty, is looked upon by the people, not as an innocent + man—for his accomplices and friends know he is not—but as one + who is a hero in his rank of life; and it is unfortunately a kind of + ambition among too many of our ill-thinking but generous countrymen, to + propose such men as the best models for imitation, not only in their + lives, but in that hardened hypocrisy which defies and triumphs over the + ordeal of death itself. + </p> + <p> + Connor O'Donovan was a happy representation of all that is noble and pious + in the Irish character, without one tinge of the crimes which darken or + discolor it. But the heart that is full of generosity and fortitude, is + generally most susceptible of the kinder and more amiable affections. The + noble boy, who could hear the sentence of death without the commotion of a + nerve, was forced to weep on the neck of an old and faithful follower who + loved him, when he remembered that, after that melancholy visit, he should + see his familiar face no more. When Nogher left him, a train of painful + reflections passed through his mind. He thought of Una, of his father, of + his mother, and for some time was more depressed than usual. But the gift + of life to the young is ever a counterbalance to every evil that is less + than death. In a short time he reflected that the same Providence which + had interposed between him and his recorded sentence, had his future fate + in its hands; and that he had health, and youth, and strength—and, + above all, a good conscience—to bear him through the future + vicissitudes of his appointed fate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART6" id="link2H_PART6"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART VI. + </h2> + <p> + To those whose minds and bodies are of active habits, there can be + scarcely anything more trying than a position in which the latter is + deprived of its usual occupation, and the former forced to engage itself + only on the contemplation of that which is painful. In such a situation, + the mental and physical powers are rendered incapable of mutually + sustaining each other; for we all know that mere corporal employment + lessens affliction, or enables us in a shorter time to forget it, whilst + the acuteness of bodily suffering, on the other hand, is blunted by those + pursuits which fill the mind with agreeable impressions. During the few + days, therefore, that intervened between the last interview which Connor + held with Nogher M'Cormick, and the day of his final departure he felt + himself rather relieved than depressed by the number of friends who came + to visit him for the last time. He was left less to solitude and himself + than he otherwise would have been, and, of course, the days of his + imprisonment were neither so dreary nor oppressive as the uninterrupted + contemplation of his gloomy destiny would have rendered them. Full of the + irrepressible ardor of youth, he longed for that change which he knew must + bring him onward in the path of life; and in this how little did he + resemble the generality of other convicts, who feel as if time were + bringing about the day of their departure with painful and more than + ordinary celerity! At length the interviews between him and all those whom + he wished to see were concluded, with the exception of three, viz.—John + O'Brien and his own parents, whilst only two clear days intervened until + the period, of his departure. + </p> + <p> + It was on the third morning previous to that unhappy event, that the + brother of his Una—the most active and indefatigable of all those + who had interested themselves for him—was announced as requiring an + interview. Connor, although prepared for this, experienced on the + occasion, as every high-minded person would do, a strong feeling of + degradation and shame as the predominant sensation. That, indeed, was but + natural, for it is undoubtedly true that we feel disgrace the more heavily + upon us in the eyes of those we esteem, than we do under any other + circumstances. This impression, however, though as we have said the + strongest,—was far from being the only one he felt. A heart like his + could not be insensible to the obligations under which the generous and + indefatigable exertions of young O'Brien had placed him. But, + independently of this, he was Una's brother, and the appearance of one so + dear to her gave to all his love for her a character of melancholy + tenderness, more deep and full than he had probably ever experienced + before. Her brother would have been received with extraordinary warmth on + his own account, but, in addition to that, Connor knew that he now came on + behalf of Una herself. It was, therefore, under a tumult of mingled + sensations, that he received him in his gloomy apartment—gloomy in + despite of all that a humane jailer could do to lessen the rigors of his + confinement. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot welcome you to sich a place, as this is,” said Connor, grasping + and wringing his hand, as the other entered, “although I may well say that + I would be glad to see you anywhere, as I am, indeed, to see you even + here. I know what I owe you, an' what you have done for me.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” replied the other, returning his grasp with equal pressure, + “thank God, that, at all events, the worst of what we expected will not——” + He paused, for, on looking at O'Donovan, he observed upon his open brow a + singular depth of melancholy, mingled less with an expression of shame, + than with the calm but indignant sorrow of one who could feel no + resentment against him with whom he spoke. + </p> + <p> + O'Brien saw, at a glance, that Connor, in consequence of something in his + manner, joined to his inconsiderate congratulations, imagined that he + believed him guilty. He lost not a moment, therefore, in correcting this + mistake. + </p> + <p> + “It would have been dreadful,” he proceeded, “to see innocent blood shed, + through the perjury of a villain—for, of course, you cannot suppose + for a moment that one of our family suppose you to be guilty.” + </p> + <p> + “I was near doin' you injustice, then,” replied the other; “but I ought to + know that if you did think me so, you wouldn't now be here, nor act as you + did. Not but that I thought it possible, on another account you——No,” + he added, after a pause, “that would be doin' the brother of Una + injustice.” + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” returned O'Brien. “No circumstance of any kind”—and + he laid a peculiar emphasis on the words—“no circumstance of any + kind could bring me to visit a man capable of such a mean and cowardly + act; for, as to the loss we sustained, I wouldn't think of it. You, Connor + O'Donovan, are not the man to commit any act, either the one or the other. + If I did not feel this, you would not see me before you.” He extended his + hand to him while he spoke, and the brow of Connor brightened as he met + his grasp. + </p> + <p> + “I believe you,” he replied; “and now I hope we may spake out like men + that undherstand one another. In case you hadn't come, I intended to lave + a message for you with my mother. I believe you know all Una's secrets?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” replied O'Brien, “just as well as her confessor.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe that,” said Connor. “The sun in heaven is not purer than + she is. The only fault she ever could be charged with was her love for me; + and heavily, oh! far too heavily, has she suffered for it!” + </p> + <p> + “I, for one, never blamed her on that account,” said her brother. “I knew + that her good sense would have at any time prevented her from forming an + attachment to an unworthy object; and upon the strength of her own + judgment, I approved of that which she avowed for you. Indeed, I perceived + it myself before she told me; but upon attempting to gain her secret, the + candid creature at once made me her confidant.” + </p> + <p> + “It is like her,” said Connor; “she is all truth. Well would it be for + her, if she had never seen me. Not even the parting from my father and + mother sinks my heart with so much sorrow, as the thought that her love + for me had made her so unhappy. It's a strange case, John O'Brien, an' a + trying one; but since it is the will of God, we must submit to it. How did + you leave her? I heard she was getting better.” + </p> + <p> + “She is better,” said John—“past danger, but still very delicate and + feeble. Indeed, she is so much worn down, that you would scarcely know + her. The brightness of her dark eye is dead—her complexion gone. + Sorrow, as she says herself, is in her and upon her. Never, indeed, was a + young creature's love so pure and true.” + </p> + <p> + O'Donovan made no reply for some time; but the other observed that he + turned away his face from him, as if to conceal his emotion. At length his + bosom heaved vehemently, three or four times, and his breath came and went + with a quick and quivering motion, that betrayed the powerful struggle + which he felt. + </p> + <p> + “I know it is but natural for you to feel deeply,” continued her brother; + “but as you have borne everything heretofore with so much firmness, you + must not break down—” + </p> + <p> + “But you know it is a deadly thrial to be forever separated from sich a + girl. Sufferin' so much as you say—so worn! Her dark eye dim with—oh, + it is, it is a deadly thrial—a heart—breaking thrial! John + O'Brien,” he proceeded, with uncommon earnestness, “you are her only + brother, an' she is your only sister. Oh, will you, for the sake of God, + and for my sake, if I may take the liberty of sayin' so—but, above + all things, will you, for her own sake, when I am gone, comfort and + support her, and raise her heart, if possible, out of this heavy + throuble?” + </p> + <p> + Her brother gazed on him with a melancholy smile, in which might be read + both admiration and sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it possible that I would, or could omit to cherish and + sustain poor Una, under such thrying circumstances! Everything considered, + however, your words are only natural—only natural.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let her think too much about it,” continued O'Donovan. “Bring her + out as much as you can—let her not be much by herself. But this is + folly in me,” he added; “you know yourself better than I can instruct you + how to act.” + </p> + <p> + “God knows,” replied the brother, struck and softened by the mournful + anxiety for her welfare which Connor expressed, “God knows that all you + say, and all I can think of besides, shall be done for our dear girl—so + make your mind easy.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you,” replied the other; “from my soul an' from the bottom of my + heart, I thank you. Endeavor to make her forget me, if you can; an' when + this passes away out of her mind, she may yet be happy—a happy wife + and a happy mother—an' she can then think of her love for Connor + O'Donovan, only as a troubled dream that she had in her early life.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said the other, “this is not right—you must be firmer;” + but as he uttered the words of reproof, the tears almost came to his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “As for my part,” continued Connor, “what is the world to me now, that + I've lost her? It is—it is a hard and a dark fate, but why it should + fall upon us I do not know. It's as much as I can do to bear it as I + ought.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” replied John, “don't dwell too much on it. I have something + else to speak to you about.” + </p> + <p> + “Dwell on it!” returned the other; “as God is above me, she's not one + minute out of my thoughts; an' I tell you, I'd rather be dead this minute, + than forget her. Her memory now is the only happiness that is left to me—my + only wealth in this world.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said John, “it is not. Connor, I have now a few words to say to you, + and I know they will prove whether you are as generous as you are said to + be; and whether your love for iny sister is truly tender and + disinterested. You have it now in your power to ease her heart very much + of a heavy load of concern which she feels on your account. Your father, + you know, is now a ruined man, or I should say a poor man. You are going + out under circumstances the most painful. In the country to which you are + unhappily destined, you will have no friends—and no one living feels + this more acutely than Una; for, observe me, I am now speaking on her + behalf, and acting in her name. I am her agent. Now Una is richer than you + might imagine, being the possessor of a legacy left her by our grandfather + by my father's side. Of this legacy, she herself stands in no need—but + you may and will, when you reach a distant country. Now, Connor, you see + how that admirable creature loves you—you see how that love would + follow you to the uttermost ends of the earth. Will you, or rather are you + capable of being as generous as she is?—and can you show her that + you are as much above the absurd prejudice of the world, and its cold + forms, as he ought to be who is loved by a creature so truly generous and + delicate as Una? You know how very poorly she is at present in health; and + I tell you candidly, that your declining to accept this as a gift and + memorial by which to remember her, may be attended with very serious + consequences to her health.” + </p> + <p> + Connor kept his eyes fixed upon the speaker, with a look of deep and + earnest attention; and as O'Brien detailed with singular address and + delicacy these striking proofs of Una's affection, her lover's countenance + became an index of the truth with which his heart corresponded to the + noble girl's tenderness and generosity. He seized O'Brien's hand. + </p> + <p> + “John,” said he, “you are worthy of bein' Una's brother, and I could say + nothing higher in your favor; but, in the mane time, you and she both know + that I want nothing to enable me to remember her by. This is a proof, I + grant you, that she loves me truly; but I knew that as well before, as I + do now. In this business I cannot comply with her wish an' yours, an' you + musn't press me. You, I say, musn't press me. Through my whole life I have + never lost my own good opinion; but if I did what you want me now to do, I + couldn't respect myself—I would feel lowered in my own mind. In + short, I'd feel unhappy, an' that I was too mane to be worthy of your + sister. Once for all, then, I cannot comply in this business with your + wish an' hers.” + </p> + <p> + “But the anxiety produced by your refusal may have very dangerous effects + on her health.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you must contrive somehow to consale my refusal from her till she + gets recovered. I couldn't do what you want me; an' if you press me + further upon it, I'll think you don't respect me as much as I'd wish her + brother to do. Oh, God of Heaven!” he exclaimed, clasping his hands, “must + I lave you, my darling Una, forever? I must, I must! an' the drame of all + we hoped is past—but never, never, will she lave my heart! Her eye + dim, an' her cheek pale! an' all forme—for a man covered with shame + and disgrace! Oh, John, John, what a heart!—to love me in spite of + all this, an' in spite of the world's opinion along with it!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment one of the turnkeys entered, and told him that his mother + and a young lady were coming up to see him. + </p> + <p> + “My mother!” he exclaimed, “I am glad she is come; but I didn't expect her + till the day after to—morrow. A young lady! Heavens above, what + young lady would come with my mother?” + </p> + <p> + He involuntarily exchanged looks with O'Brien, and a thought flashed on + the instant across the minds of both. They immediately understood each + other. + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly,” said John, “it can be no other—it is she—it is + Una. Good God, how is this? The interview and separation will be more than + she can bear—she will sink under it.” + </p> + <p> + Connor made no reply, but sat down and pressed his right hand upon his + forehead, as if to collect energy sufficient to meet the double trial + which was now before him. + </p> + <p> + “I have only one course, John,” said he, “now, and that is, to appear to + be—what I am not—a firm—hearted man. I must try to put + on a smiling face before them.” + </p> + <p> + “If it be Una,” returned the other, “I shall withdraw for a while. I know + her extreme bashfulness in many cases; and I know, too, that anything like + restraint upon her heart at present—in a word, I shall retire for a + little.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be as well,” said Connor; “but so far as I am concerned, it makes + no difference—just as you think proper.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother will be a sufficient witness,” said the delicate—minded + brother; “but I will see you again after they have left you.” + </p> + <p> + “You must,” replied O'Donovan. “Oh I see me—see me again. I have + something to say to you of more value even than Una's life.” + </p> + <p> + The door then opened, and assisted, or rather supported, by the governor + of the gaol, and one of the turnkeys, Honor O'Donovan and Una O'Brien + entered the gloomy cell of the guiltless convict. + </p> + <p> + The situation in which O'Donovan was now placed will be admitted, we + think, by the reader, to have been one equally unprecedented and + distressing. It has been often said, and on many occasions with perfect + truth, that opposite states of feeling existing in the same breast + generally neutralize each other. In Connor's heart, however, there was in + this instance nothing of a conflicting nature. The noble boy's love for + such a mother bore in its melancholy beauty a touching resemblance to the + purity of his affection for Una O'Brien—each exhibiting in its + highest character those virtues which made the heart of the mother proud + and! loving, and that of his beautiful girl generous and devoted. So far, + therefore, from their appearance together tending to concentrate his moral + fortitude, it actually divided his strength, and forced him to meet each + with a I heart subdued and softened by his love for the other. + </p> + <p> + As they entered, therefore, he approached! them, smiling as well as he + could; and, first taking a hand of each, would have led them over to a + deal form beside the fire, but it was soon evident, that, owing to their + weakness and agitation united, they required greater support. He and + O'Brien accordingly helped them to a seat, on which they sat with every + symptom of that exhaustion which results at once from illness and mental + suffering. + </p> + <p> + Let us not forget to inform our readers that the day of this mournful + visit was that on which, according to his original sentence, he should + have yielded up his life as a penalty to the law. + </p> + <p> + “My dear mother,” said he, “you an' Una know that this day ought not to be + a day of sorrow among us. Only for the goodness of my friends, an' of + Government, it's not my voice you'd be now listening to—but that is + now changed—so no more about it. I'm glad to see you both able to + come out.” + </p> + <p> + His mother, on first sitting down, clasped her hands together, and in a + silent ejaculation, with closed eyes, raised her heart to the Almighty, to + supplicate aid and strength to enable her to part finally with that boy + who was, and ever had been, dearer to her than her own heart. Una + trembled, and on meeting her brother so unexpectedly, blushed faintly, + and, indeed, appeared to breathe with difficulty. She held a bottle of + smelling salts in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “John,” she said, “I will explain this visit.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Una,” he replied, affectionately, “you need not—it requires + none—and I beg you will not think of it one moment more. I must now + leave you together for about half an hour, as I have some business to do + in town that will detain me about that time.” He then left them. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said his mother, “sit down between this darlin' girl an' me, + till I spake to you.” + </p> + <p> + He sat down and took a hand of each. + </p> + <p> + “A darlin' girl she is, mother. It's now I see how very ill you have been, + my own Una.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, “I was ill—but when I heard that your life was + spared, I got better.” + </p> + <p> + This she said with an artless but melancholy naivete, that was very trying + to the fortitude of her lover. As she spoke she looked fondly but + mournfully into his face. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” proceeded his mother, “I hope you are fully sensible of the + mercy God has shown you, under this great trial?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I am, indeed, my dear mother. It is to God I surely owe it.” + </p> + <p> + “It is, an' I trust that, go where you will and live where you may, the + day will never come when you'll forget the debt you owe the Almighty, for + preventin' you from bein' cut down like a flower in the very bloom of your + life. I hope, avillish machree, that that day will never come.” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid it ever should, mother dear!” + </p> + <p> + “Thin you may learn from what has happened, avick agus asthofe, never, oh + never, to despair of God's mercy—no matter into what thrial or + difficulty you maybe brought. You see, whin you naither hoped for it here, + nor expected it, how it came for all that.” + </p> + <p> + “It did, blessed be God!” + </p> + <p> + “You're goin' now, ahagur, to a strange land, where you'll meet—ay, + where my darlin' boy will meet the worst of company; but remember, alanna + avillish, that your mother, well as she loves you, an' well, I own, as you + deserve to be loved—that mother that hung over the cradle of her + only one—that dressed him, an' reared him, an' felt many a proud + heart out of him—that mother would sooner at any time see him in his + grave, his sowl bein' free from stain, than to know that his heart was + corrupted by the world, an' the people you'll meet in it.” + </p> + <p> + Something in the last sentence must have touched a chord in Una's heart, + for the tears, without showing any other' external signs of emotion, + streamed down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “My advice, then, to you—an' oh, avick machree, machree, it is my + last, the last you will ever hear from my lips—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother, mother!” exclaimed Connor, but he could not proceed—voice + waa denied him, Una here sobbed aloud. + </p> + <p> + “You bore your thrial nobly, my darlin' son—you must thin bear this + as well; an' you, a colleen dhas, remember your promise to me afore I + consulted to come with you this day.” + </p> + <p> + The weeping girl here dried her eyes, and, by a strong effort, hushed her + grief. + </p> + <p> + “My advice, thin, to you, is never to neglect your duty to God; for, if + you do it wanst or twist, you'll begin by degrees to get careless—thin, + bit by bit, asthore, your heart will harden, your conscience will leave + you, an' wickedness, an' sin, an' guilt will come upon you. It's no + matter, asthore, how much wicked comrades may laugh an' jeer at you, keep + you thrue to the will of your good God, an' to your religious duties, an' + let them take their own coorse. Will you promise me to do this, <i>avuillish + machree?</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, I have always sthrove to do it, an' with God's assistance, always + will.” + </p> + <p> + “An', my son, too, will you bear up undher this like a man? Remember, + Connor darlin', that although you're lavin' us forever, yet your poor + father an' I have the blessed satisfaction of knowin' that we're not + childless—that you're alive, an' that you may yet do well an' be + happy. I mintion these things, acushla machree, to show you that there's + nothin' over you so bad, but you may show yourself firm and manly undher + it—act as you have done. It's you, asthore, ought to comfort your + father an me; an' I hope, whin you're parted from, him, that you 'ill—Oh + God, support him! I wish, Connor, darlin', that that partin' was over, but + I depend upon you to make it as light upon him as you can do.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, apparently from exhaustion. Indeed, it was evident, either + that she had little else to add, or that she felt too weak to speak much + more, with such a load of sorrow and affliction on her heart. + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing, Connor jewel, that I needn't mintion. Of coorse + you'll write to us as often as you convaniently can. Oh, do not forget + that! for you know that that bit of paper from your own hand, is all + belongin' to you we will ever see more. Avick machree, machree, many a + long look—out we will have for it. It may keep the ould man's heart + from breakin'.” + </p> + <p> + She was silent, but, as she uttered the last words, there was a shaking of + the voice, which gave clear proof of the difficulty with which she went + through the solemn task of being calm, which, for the sake of her son, she + had heroically imposed upon herself. + </p> + <p> + She was now silent, but, as is usual with Irish women under the influence + of sorrow, she rocked herself involuntary to and fro, whilst, with closed + eyes, and hands clasped as before, she held communion with God, the only + true source of comfort. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” she added, after a pause, during which he and Una, though silent + from respect to her, were both deeply affected; “sit fornint me, avick + machree, that, for the short time you're to be with me, I may have you + before my eyes. Husth now, a colleen machree, an' remimber your promise. + Where's the stringth you said you'd show?” + </p> + <p> + She then gazed with a long look of love and sorrow upon the fine + countenance of her manly son, and nature would be no longer restrained— + </p> + <p> + “Let me lay my head upon your breast,” said she; “I'm attemptin' too much—the + mother's heart will give out the mother's voice—will speak the + mother's sorrow! Oh, my son, my son, my darlin', manly son—are you + lavin' your lovin' mother for evermore, for evermore?” + </p> + <p> + She was overcome; placing her head upon his bosom, her grief fell into + that beautiful but mournful wail with which, in Ireland, those of her sex + weep over the dead. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, the scene assumed a tenderness, from this incident, which was + inexpressibly affecting, inasmuch as the cry of death was but little out + of place when bewailing that beloved boy, whom, by the stern decree of + law, she was never to see again. + </p> + <p> + Connor kissed her pale cheek and lips, and rained down a flood of bitter + tears upon her face; and Una, borne away by the enthusiasm of her sorrow, + threw her arms also around her, and wept aloud. + </p> + <p> + At length, after having, in some degree, eased her heart, she sat up, and + with that consideration and good sense for which she had ever been + remarkable, said— + </p> + <p> + “Nature must have its way; an' surely, within reason, it's not sinful, + seein' that God himself has given us the feelin's of sorrow, whin thim + that we love is lavin' us—lavin' us never, never to see them agin. + It's only nature, afther all; and now ma colleen dhas”— + </p> + <p> + Her allusion to the final separation of those who love—or, in her + own words, “to the feelin's of sorrow, whin thim that we love is lavin us”—was + too much for the heart and affections of the fair girl at her side, whose + grief now passed all the bounds which her previous attempts at being firm + had prescribed to it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page282.jpg" + alt="Page 282-- O'donovan Took the Beloved One in his Arms " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + O'Donovan took the beloved one in his arms, and, in the long embrace which + ensued, seldom were love and sorrow so singularly and mournfully blended. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to prevent you from cryin' a colleen machree; for I know it + will lighten an' aise your heart,” said Honor; “but remimber your wakeness + an' your poor health; an', Connor avourneen, don't you—if you love + her—don't forget the state her health's in either.” + </p> + <p> + “Mother, mother, you know it's the last time I'll ever look upon my Una's + face again,” he exclaimed. “Oh, well may I be loath an' unwillin' to part + with her. You'll think of me, my darlin' life, when I'm gone—not as + a guilty man, Una dear, but as one that if he ever committed a crime, it + was lovin' you an' bringin' you to this unhappy state.” + </p> + <p> + “God sees my heart this day,” she replied—and she spoke with + difficulty—“that I could and would have travelled over the world; + borne joy and sorrow, hardship and distress—good fortune and bad—all + happily, if you had been by my side—if you had not been taken from + me. Oh, Connor, Connor, you may well pity your Una—for yours I am + and was—another's I never will be. You are entering into scenes that + will relieve you by their novelty—that will force you to think of + other things and of other persons than those you've left behind you; but + oh, what Can I look upon that will not fill my heart with despair and + sorrow, by reminding me of you and your affection?” + </p> + <p> + “Fareer gair,” exclaimed the mother, speaking involuntarily aloud, and + interrupting her own words with sobs of bitter anguish—“Fareer gair, + ma colleen dhas, but that's the heavy truth with us all. Oh, the ould man—the + ould man's heart will break all out, when he looks upon the place, an' + everything else that our boy left behind him.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Una,” said Connor, “you know that we're partin' now forever.” + </p> + <p> + “My breaking heart tells me that,” she replied. “I would give the wealth + of the world that it was not so—I would—I would.” + </p> + <p> + “Listen to me, my own life. You must not let love for me lie so heavy upon + your heart. Go out and keep your mind employed upon other thoughts—by + degrees you'll forget—no, I don't think you could altogether forget + me—me—the first, Una, you ever loved.” + </p> + <p> + “And the last, Connor—the last I ever will love.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no. In the presence of my lovin' mother I say that you must not think + that way. Time will pass, my own Una, an' you will yet be happy with some + other. You're very young; an', as I said, time will wear me by degrees out + of your mimory.”— + </p> + <p> + Una broke hastily from his embrace, for she lay upon his breast all this + time— + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so, Connor O'Donovan?” she exclaimed; but on looking into + his face, and reading the history of deep—seated sorrow which + appeared there so legible, she again “fled to him and wept.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” she continued, “I cannot quarrel with you now; but you do the + heart of your own Una injustice, if you think it could ever feel happiness + with another. Already I have my mother's consent to enter a convent—and + to enter a convent is my fixed determination.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, mother,” said Connor, “How will I lave this blessed girl? how will I + part with her?” + </p> + <p> + Honor rose up, and, by two or three simple words, disclosed more forcibly, + more touchingly, than any direct exhibition of grief could have done, the + inexpressible power of the misery she felt at this eternal separation from + her only boy. She seized Una's two hands, and, kissing her lips, said, in + tones of the most heart—rending pathos— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Una, Una, pity me—I am his mother!” + </p> + <p> + Una threw herself into her arms, and sobbed out— + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Thin you'll obey me as a daughter should,” said Honor. “This is too much + for you, Oona; part we both must from him, an' neither of us is able to + bear much, more.” + </p> + <p> + She here gave Connor a private signal to be firm, pointing unobservedly to + Una's pale cheek, which at that moment lay upon her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” she proceeded, “Oona has what you sent her. Nogher—an' he + is breakin' his heart too—gave it to me; an' my daughter, for I will + always call her so, has it this minute next her lovin' heart. Here is + hers, an' let it lie next yours.” + </p> + <p> + Connor seized the glossy ringlet from his mother's hand, and placed it at + the moment next to the seat of his undying affection for the fair girl + from whose ebon locks it had been taken. + </p> + <p> + His mother then kissed Una again, and, rising, said— + </p> + <p> + “Now, my daughther, remimber I am your mother, an' obey me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” said Una, attempting to repress her grief—“I will; but—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, darlin', you will. Now, Connor, my son, my son—Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, mother, darlin'?” + </p> + <p> + “We're goin', Connor,—we're lavin' you—be firm—be a man. + Aren't you my son, Connor? my only son—an' the ould man—an' + never, never more—kneel down—kneel down, till I bless you. Oh, + many, many a blessin' has risen from your mother's lips an' your mother's + heart, to Heaven for you, my son, my son!” + </p> + <p> + Connor knelt, his heart bursting, but he knelt not alone. By his side was + his own Una, with meek and bended head, awaiting for his mothers blessing. + </p> + <p> + She then poured forth that blessing; first: upon him who was nearest to + her heart, and afterwards upon the worn but still beautiful; girl, whose + love for that adored son had made her so inexpressibly dear to her. + Whilst! she uttered this fervent but sorrowful benediction, a hand was + placed upon the head of each, after which she stooped and kissed them + both, but without shedding a single tear. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said she, “comes the mother's wakeness; but my son will help me by + his manliness—so will my daughter. I am very weak. Oh, what heart + can know the sufferin's of this hour, but mine? My son, my son—Connor + O'Donovan, my son!” + </p> + <p> + At this moment John O'Brien entered the room; but the solemnity and pathos + of her manner and voice hushed him so completely into silent attention, + that it is probable she did not perceive him. + </p> + <p> + “Let me put my arms about him and kiss his lips once more, an' then I'll + say farewell.” + </p> + <p> + She again approached the boy, who S opened his arms to receive her, and, + after having kissed him and looked into his face, said, “I will now go—I + will' now go;” but instead of withdrawing, as she had intended, it was + observed that she pressed him more closely to her heart than before; plied + her hands about his neck and bosom, as if she were not actually conscious + of what she did; and at length sunk into a forgetfulness of all her misery + upon the aching breast of her unhappy son. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Una, rising into a spirit of; unexpected fortitude, “now, + Connor, I will be her daughter, and you must be her son. The moment she + recovers we must separate, and in such a manner as to show that our + affection for each other shall not be injurious to her.” + </p> + <p> + “It is nature only,” said her brother; “or, in other words, the love that + is natural to such a mother for such a son, that has overcome her. Connor, + this must be ended.” + </p> + <p> + “I am willing it should,” replied the other. “You must assist them home, + and let me see you again tomorrow. I have something of the deepest + importance to say to you.” + </p> + <p> + Una's bottle of smelling salts soon relieved the woe-worn mother; and, ere + the lapse of many minutes, she was able to summon her own natural firmness + of character. The lovers, too, strove to be firm; and, after one long and + last embrace, they separated from Connor with more composure than, from + the preceding scene, might have been expected. + </p> + <p> + The next day, according to promise, John O'Brien paid him an early visit, + in order to hear what Connor had assured him was of more importance even + than Una's life itself. Their conference was long and serious, for each + felt equally interested in its subject-matter. When it was concluded, and + they had separated, O'Brien's friends observed that he appeared like a man + whose mind was occupied by something that occasioned him to feel deep + anxiety. What the cause of this secret care was, he did not disclose to + anyone except his father, to whom, in a few days afterwards, he mentioned + it. His college vacation had now nearly expired; but it was mutually + agreed upon, in the course of the communication he then made, that for the + present he should remain with them at home, and postpone his return to + Maynooth, if not abandon the notion of the priesthood altogether. When the + Bodagh left his son, after this dialogue, his open, good-humored + countenance seemed clouded, his brow thoughtful, and his whole manner that + of a man who has heard something more than usually unpleasant; but, + whatever this intelligence was, he, too, appeared equally studious to + conceal it. The day now arrived on which Connor O'Donovan was to see his + other parent for the last time, and this interview he dreaded, on the old + man's account, more than he had done even the separation from his mother. + Our readers may judge, therefore, of his surprise on finding that his + father exhibited a want of sorrow or of common feeling that absolutely + amounted almost to indifference. + </p> + <p> + Connor felt it difficult to account for a change so singular and + extraordinary in one with whose affection for himself he was so well + acquainted. A little time, however, and an odd hint or two thrown out in + the early part of their conversation, soon enabled him to perceive, either + that the old man labored under some strange hallucination, or had + discovered a secret source of comfort known only to himself. At length, it + appeared to the son that he had discovered the cause of this unaccountable + change in the conduct of his father; and, we need scarcely assure our + readers, that his heart sank into new and deeper distress at the words + from which he drew the inference. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said the miser, “I had great luck yestherday. You remember + Antony Cusack, that ran away from me wid seventy-three pounds fifteen + shillin's an' nine pence, now betther than nine years ago. Many a curse he + had from me for his roguery; but somehow, it seems he only thruv under + them. His son Andy called on me yestherday mornin' an' paid me to the last + farden, inthrest an' all. Wasn't I in luck?” + </p> + <p> + “It was very fortunate, father, an' I'm glad of it” + </p> + <p> + “It was, indeed, the hoighth o' luck. Now, Connor, you think one thing, + an' that is, that; we're partin' forever, an' that we'll never see one + another till we meet in the next world. Isn't that what you think?—eh, + Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “It's hard to tell what may happen, father. We may see one another even in + this; stranger things have been brought about.” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Connor, we'll meet agin; I have made out a plan in my own + head for that; but the luckiest of all was the money yestherday.” + </p> + <p> + “What is the plan, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ax me, avick, bekase it's betther for you not to know it. I may be + disappointed, but it's not likely aither; still it 'ud be risin' + expectations in you, an' if it didn't come to pass, you'd only be more + unhappy; an' you know, Connor darlin', I wouldn't wish to be the manes of + making your poor heart sore for one minute. God knows the same young heart + has suffered enough, an' more than it ought to suffer. Connor?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, father?” + </p> + <p> + “Keep up your spirits, darlin', don't be at all cast down, I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + The old man caught his son's hands ere he spoke, and uttered these words + with a voice of such tenderness and affection, that Connor, on seeing him + assume the office of comforter, contrary to all he had expected, felt + himself more deeply touched than if his father had fallen, as was his + wont, into all the impotent violence of grief. + </p> + <p> + “It was only comin' here to-day, Connor, that I thought of this plan; but + I wish to goodness your poor mother knew it, for thin, maybe she'd let me + mintion it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “If it would make me any way unhappy,” replied Connor, “I'd rather not + hear it; only, whatever it is, father, if it's against my dear mother's + wishes, don't put it in practice.” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't, Connor, widout her consint, barrin' we'd—but there's no + us in that; only keep up your spirits, Connor dear. Still I'm glad it came + into my head, this plan; for if I thought that I'd never see you agin, I + wouldn't know how to part wid you; my heart 'ud fairly break, or my head + 'ud get light. Now, won't you promise me not to fret, acushla machree—an' + to keep your heart up, an' your spirits?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll fret as little as I can, father. You know there's not much pleasure + in frettin', an' that no one would fret if they could avoid it; but will + you promise me, my dear father, to be guided an' advised, in whatever you + do, or intend to do, by my mother—my blessed mother?” + </p> + <p> + “I will—I will, Connor; an' if I had always done so, maybe it isn't + here now you'd be standing, an' my heart breakin' to look at you; but, + indeed, it was God, I hope, put this plan into my head; an' the money + yestherday—that, too, was so lucky—far more so, Connor dear, + than you think. Only for that—but sure no matther, Connor, we're not + partin' for evermore now; so acushla machree, let your mind be aisy. Cheer + up, cheer up my darlin' son.” + </p> + <p> + Much more conversation of this kind took place between them during the old + man's stay, which he prolonged almost to the last hour. Connor wondered, + as was but natural, what the plan so recently fallen upon by his father + could be. Indeed, sometimes, he feared that the idea of their separation + had shaken his intellect, and that his allusions to this mysterious + discovery, mixed up, as they were, with the uncommon delight he expressed + at having recovered Cusack's money, boded nothing less than the ultimate + derangement of his faculties. One thing, however, seemed obvious—that, + whatever it might be, whether reasonable or otherwise, his father's mind + was exclusively occupied by it; and that, during the whole scene of their + parting, it sustained him in a manner for which he felt it utterly + impossible to account. It is true he did not leave him without shedding + tears, and bitter tears; but they were unaccompanied by the wild vehemence + of grief which had, on former occasions, raged through and almost + desolated his heart. The reader may entertain some notion of what he would + have felt on this occasion, were it not for the “plan” as he called it, + which supported him so much, when we tell him that he blessed his son + three or four times dining their interview, without being conscious; that + he had blessed him more than once. His last words to him were to keep up + his spirits, for that there was little doubt that they would meet again. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, at daybreak, “their noble boy,” as they fondly and + proudly called him, was conveyed, to the transport, in company with many + others; and at the hour of five o'clock p. m., that melancholy vessel + weighed anchor, and spread her broad sails to the bosom of the ocean. + </p> + <p> + Although the necessary affairs of life are, after all, the great assuager + of sorrow, yet there are also cases where the heart persists in rejecting + the consolation brought by time, and in clinging to the memory of that + which it loved. Neither Honor O'Donovan nor Una O'Brien could forget our + unhappy hero, nor school their affections into the apathy of ordinary + feelings. Of Fardorougha we might say the same; for, although he probably + felt the want of his son's presence more keenly even than his wife, yet + his grief, notwithstanding its severity, was mingled with the interruption + of a habit—such as is frequently the prevailing cause of sorrow in + selfish and contracted minds. That there was much selfishness in his + grief, our readers, we dare say, will admit. At all events, a scene which + took place between him and his wife, on the night of the day which saw + Connor depart from his native land forever, will satisfy them of the + different spirit which marked their feelings on that unfortunate occasion. + </p> + <p> + Honor had, as might be expected, recovered her serious composure, and + spent a great portion of that day in offering up her prayers for the + welfare of their son. Indeed, much of her secret grief was checked by the + alarm which she felt for her husband, whose conduct on that morning before + he left home was marked by the wild excitement, which of late had been so + peculiar to him. Her surprise was consequently great when she observed, on + his return, that he manifested a degree of calmness, if not serenity, + utterly at variance with the outrage of his grief, or, we should rather + say, the delirium of his despair, in the early part of the day. She + resolved, however, with her usual discretion, not to catechize him on the + subject, lest his violence might revive, but to let his conduct explain + itself, which she knew in a little time it would do. Nor was she mistaken. + Scarcely had an hour elapsed, when, with something like exultation, he + disclosed his plan, and asked her advice and opinion. She heard it + attentively, and for the first time since the commencement of their + affliction, did the mother's brow seem unburdened of the sorrow which sat + upon it, and her eye to gleam with something like the light of expected + happiness. It was, however, on their retiring to rest that night that the + affecting contest took place, which exhibited so strongly the contrast + between their characters. We mentioned, in a preceding part of this + narrative, that ever since her son's incarceration Honor had slept in his + bed, and with her head on the very pillow which he had so often pressed. + As she was about to retire, Fardorougha, for a moment, appeared to forget + his “plan,” and everything but the departure of his son. He followed Honor + to his bedroom, which he traversed, distractedly clasping his hands, + kissing his boy's clothes, and uttering sentiments of extreme misery and + despair. + </p> + <p> + “There's his bed,” he exclaimed; “there's our boy's bed—but where is + he himself? gone, gone forever! There's his clothes, our darlin' son's + clothes; look at them. Oh God! oh God! my heart will break outright. Oh + Connor, our boy, our boy, are you gone from us forever! We must sit down + to our breakfast in the mornin', to our dinner, an' to our supper at + night, but our noble boy's face we'll never see—his voice we'll + never hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Fardorougha, it's thrue, it's thrue!” replied the wife; “but remember + he's not in the grave, not in the clay of the churchyard; we haven't seen + him carried there, and laid down undher the heart—breakin' sound of + the dead—bell; we haven't hard the cowld noise of the clay fallin' + in upon his coffin. Oh no, no—thanks, everlastin' thanks to God, + that has spared our boy's life! How often have you an' I hard people say + over the corpses of their children, 'Oh, if he was only alive I didn't + care in what part of the world it was, or if I was never to see his face + again, only that he was livin'!' An' wouldn't they, Fardorougha dear, give + the world's wealth to—have their wishes? Oh they would, they would—an' + thanks forever be to the Almighty! our boy is livin' and may yit be happy. + Fardorougha, let us not fly into the face of God, who has in His mercy + spared our son.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll sleep in his bed,” replied the husband; “on the very spot he lay on + I'll he.” + </p> + <p> + This was, indeed, trenching, and selfishly trenching upon the last + mournful privilege of the mother's heart. Her sleeping here was one of + those secret but melancholy enjoyments, which the love of a mother or of a + wife will often steal, like a miser's theft, from the very hoard of their + own sorrows. In fact, she was not prepared for this, and when he spoke she + looked at him for some time in silent amazement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, Fardorougha dear,the mother, the mother, that her breast was so + often his pillow, has the best right, now that he's gone, to lay her head + where his lay. Oh, for Heaven's sake, lave that poor pleasure to me, + Fardorougha!” + </p> + <p> + “No, Honor, you can bear up undher grief better than I can. I must sleep + where my boy slept.” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, I could go upon my knees! to you, an' I will, avourneen, if + you'll grant me this.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, I can't,” he replied, distractedly; “I could sleep nowhere else. + I love everything belongin' to him. I can't, Honor, I can't, I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha, my heart—his mother's heart is fixed upon it, an' was. + Oh lave this to me, acushla, lave this to me—it's all I axe!” + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't, I couldn't—my heart is breakin'—it'll be sweet to + me—I'll think I'll be nearer him,” and as he uttered these words the + tears flowed copiously down his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + His affectionate wife was touched with compassion, and immediately + resolved to let him have his way, whatever it might cost herself. “God + pity you,” she said; “I'll give it up, I'll give it up, Fardorougha. Do + sleep where he slep'; I can't blame you, nor I don't; for sure it's only a + proof of how much you love him.” She then bade him good—night, and, + with spirits dreadfully weighed down by this singular incident, withdrew + to her lonely pillow; for Connor's bed had been a single one, in which, of + course, two persons could not sleep together. Thus did these bereaved + parents retire to seek that rest which nothing but exhausted nature seemed + disposed to give them, until at length they fell asleep under the double + shadow of night and a calamity which filled their hearts with so much + distress and misery. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, whatever these two families might have felt for the + sufferings of their respective children in consequence of Bartle + Flanagan's villainy, that plausible traitor had watched the departure of + his victim with a palpitating anxiety almost equal to what some unhappy + culprit, in the dock of a prison, would experience when the foreman of his + jury handed down the sentence which is either to hang or acquit him. Up to + the very moment on which the vessel sailed, his cruel but cowardly heart + was literally sick with the apprehension that Connor's mitigated sentence + might be still further commuted to a term of imprisonment. Great, + therefore, was his joy, and boundless his exultation on satisfying himself + that he was now perfectly safe in the crime he had committed, and that his + path was never to be crossed by him, whom, of all men living, he had most + feared and hated. The reader is not to suppose, however, that by the ruin + of Connor, and the revenge he consequently had gained upon Fardorougha, + the scope of his dark designs was by any means accomplished. Far from it; + the fact is, his measures were only in a progressive state. In Nogher + M'Cormick's last interview with Connor, our readers will please to + remember that a hint had been thrown out by that attached old follower, of + Flanagan's entertaining certain guilty purposes involving nothing less + than the abduction of Una. Now, in justice even to Flanagan, we are bound + to say that no one living had ever received from himself any intimation of + such an intention. The whole story was fabricated by Nogher for the + purpose of getting Connor's consent to the vengeance which it had been + determined to execute upon his enemy. By a curious coincidence, + however,the story, though decidedly false so far as Nogher knew to the + contrary, happened to be literally and absolutely true. Flanagan, indeed, + was too skilful and secret, either to precipitate his own designs until + the feeling of the parties should abate and settle down, or to place + himself at the mercy of another person's honesty. He knew his own heart + too well to risk his life by such dangerous and unseasonable confidence. + Some months consequently passed away since. Connor's departure, when an + event took place, which gave him still greater security. This was nothing + less than the fulfilment by Fardorougha of that plan to which he looked + forward with such prospective satisfaction, Connor had not been a month + gone when his father commenced to dispose of his property, which he soon + did, having sold out his farm to good advantage. He then paid his rent, + the only debt he owed; and, having taken a passage to New South Wales for + himself and Honor, they departed with melancholy satisfaction to seek that + son without whose society they found their desolate hearth gloomier than + the cell of a prison. + </p> + <p> + This was followed, too, by another circumstance—but one apparently + of little importance—which was, the removal of Biddy Nulty to the + Bodagh's family, through the interference of Una, by whom she was treated + with singular affection, and admitted to her confidence. + </p> + <p> + Such was the position of the parties after, the lapse of five months + subsequent to the transportation of Connor. Flanagan had conducted himself + with great circumspection, and, so far as public observation could go, + with much propriety. There was no change whatsoever perceptible, either in + his dress or manner except that alluded to by Nogher of his altogether + declining to taste any intoxicating liquor. In truth, so well did he act + his part, that the obloquy raised against him at the period of Connor's + trial was nearly, if not altogether, removed, and many persons once more + adopted an impression of his victim's guilt. + </p> + <p> + With respect to the Bodagh and his son, the anxiety which we have + described them as feeling in consequence of the latter's interview with + O'Donovan, was now completely removed. Una's mother had nearly forgotten + both the crime and its consequences; but upon the spirit of her daughter + there appeared to rest a silent and settled sorrow not likely to be + diminished or removed. Her cheerfulness had abandoned her, and many an + hour did she contrive to spend with Biddy Nulty, eager in the mournful + satisfaction of talking over all that affection prompted of her banished + lover. + </p> + <p> + We must now beg our readers to accompany us to a scene of a different + description from any we have yet drawn. The night of a November day had + set in, or rather had advanced so far as nine o'clock, and towards the + angle of a small three-cornered field, called by a peculiar coincidence of + name, Oona's Handkerchief, in consequence of an old legend connected with + it, might be seen moving a number of straggling figures, sometimes in + groups of fours and fives; sometimes in twos or threes as the case might + be, and not unfrequently did a single straggler advance, and, after a few + private words, either join the others or proceed alone to a house situated + in the angular corner of the field to which we allude. As the district was + a remote one, and the night rather dark, several shots might be heard as + they proceeded, and several flashes in the pan seen from the rusty arms of + those who were probably anxious to pull a trigger for the first time. The + country, at the period we write of, be it observed, was in a comparative + state of tranquility, and no such thing as a police corps had been heard + of or known in the neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + At the lower end of a long, level kind of moor called the Black Park, two + figures approached a* kind of gate or pass that opened into it. One of + them stood until the other advanced, and, in a significant tone, asked who + comes there? + </p> + <p> + “A friend to the guard,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow,” said the other. + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow mornin' to you.” + </p> + <p> + “What age are you in?” + </p> + <p> + “In the end of the Fifth.” + </p> + <p> + “All right; come on, boy; the true blood's in you, whoever you are.” + </p> + <p> + “An' is it possible you don't know me, Dandy?” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, it is; I forgot my spectacles tonight. Who the dickins are you at + all?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you purtind to forget Ned M'Cormick?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it Nogher's son?” + </p> + <p> + “The divil a other; an', Dandy Duffy, how are you, man alive?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you see, Ned, I've been so long out of the counthry, an' I'm now so + short a time back, that, upon my sowl, I forget a great many of my ould + acquaintances, especially them that wor only slips when I wint acrass. + Faith, I'm purty well considherin, Ned, I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad luck to them that sint you acrass, Dandy; not but that you got off + purty well on the whole, by all accounts. They say only that Rousin + Redhead swore like a man you'd 'a' got a touch of the Shaggy Shoe.” + </p> + <p> + “To the divil wid it all now, Ned; let us have no more about it; I don't + for my own part like to think of it. Have you any notion of what we're + called upon for to—night?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil the laste; but I believe, Dandy, that Bartle's not the white-headed + boy wid you no more nor wid some more of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Him! a double-distilled villain. Faith, there wor never good that had the + white liver; an' he has it to the backbone. My brother Lachlin, that's now + dead, God rest him, often tould me about the way he tricked him and Barney + Bradly when they wor greenhorns about nineteen or twenty. He got them to + join him in stealin' a sheep for their Christmas dinner, he said; so they + all three stole it; an' the blaggard skinned and cut it up, sendin' my + poor boacun of a brother home to hide the skin in the straw in our barn, + and poor Barney, wid only the head an' trotters, to hide them in his + father's tow-house. Very good; in a day or two the neighbors wor all + called upon to clear themselves upon the holy Evangelisp; and the two + first that he egg'd an' to do it was my brother an' Barney. Of coorse he + switched the primmer himself that he was innocent; but whin it was all + over some one sint Jarmy Campel, that lost the sheep, to the very spot + where they hid the fleece an' trot—ters. Jarmy didn't wish to say + much about it; so he tould them if they'd fairly acknowledge it an' pay + him betune them for the sheep, he'd dhrop it. My father an' Andy Bradly + did so, an' there it ended; but purshue the morsel of mutton ever they + tasted in the mane time. As for Bartle, he managed the thing so well that + at the time they never suspected him, although divil a other could betray + them, for he was the only one knew it; an' he had the aiten o' the mutton, + too, the blaggard! Faith, Ned, I know him well.” + </p> + <p> + “He has conthrived to get a strong back o' the boys, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “He has, an' 'tis that, and bekase he's a good hand to be undher for my + revinge on Blennerhasset, that made me join him.” + </p> + <p> + “I dunna what could make him refuse to let Alick Nulty join him?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it my cousin from Annaloghan? an' did he?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a lie in it; it's as thrue as you're standin' there; but do you + know what is suspected?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, that he has an eye on Bodagh Buie's daughter. Alick towld me that, + for a long time afther Connor O'Donovan was thransported, the father an' + son wor afeard of him. He hard it from his sister Biddy, an' it appears + that the Bodagh's daughter tould her family that he used to stare her out + of countenance at mass, an' several times struv to put the furraun on her + in hopes to get acquainted.” + </p> + <p> + “He would do it; an' my hand to you, if he undhertakes it he'll not fail; + an' I'll tell you another thing, if he suspected that I knew anything + about the thraitherous thrick he put on my poor brother, the divil a toe + he'd let me join him; but you see I—was only a mere gorsoon, a child + I may say at the time. + </p> + <p> + “At all events let us keep an eye on him; an' in regard to Connor + O'Donovan's business, let him not be too sure that it's over wid him yet. + At any rate, by dad, my father has slipped out a name upon him an' us that + will do him no good. The other boys now call us the Stags of Lisdhu, that + bein' the place where his father lived, an' the nickname you see rises out + of his thrachery to poor Connor O'Donovan.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he ever give any hint himself about carryin' away the Bodagh's pretty + daughter?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it him'? Oh, oh! catch him at it; he's a damn sight too close to do + any sich thing.” + </p> + <p> + After some further conversation upon that and other topics, they arrived + at the place of appointment, which was a hedge school-house; one of those + where the master, generally an unmarried man, merely wields his sceptre + during school-hours, leaving it open and uninhabited for the rest of the + twenty-four. + </p> + <p> + The appearance of those who were here assembled was indeed singularly + striking. A large fire of the unconsumed peat brought by the scholars on + that morning, was kindled in the middle of the floor—it's usual + site. Around, upon stones, hobs, bosses, and seats of various + descriptions, sat the “boys”—some smoking and others drinking; for + upon nights of this kind, a shebeen-housekeeper, uniformly a member of + such societies, generally attends for the sale of his liquor, if he cannot + succeed in prevailing on them to hold their meetings in his own house—a + circumstance which for many reasons may not be in every case advisable. As + they had not all yet assembled, nor the business of the night commenced, + they were, of course, divided into several groups and engaged in various + amusements. In the lower end of the house was a knot, busy at the game of + “spoiled five,” their ludicrous table being the crown of a hat, placed + upon the floor in the centre. These all sat upon the ground, their legs + stretched out, their torch-bearer holding a lit bunch of fir splinters, + stuck for convenience sake into the muzzle of a horse-pistol. In the upper + end, again, sat another clique, listening to a man who was reading a + treasonable ballad. Such of them as could themselves read stretched over + their necks in eagerness to peruse it along with him, and such as could + not—indeed, the greater number—gave force to its principles by + very significant gestures; some being those of melody, and others those of + murder; that is to say, part of them were attempting to hum a tune in a + low voice, suitable to the words, whilst others more ferocious brandished + their weapons, as if those against whom the spirit of the ballad was + directed had been then within the reach of their savage passions. Beside + the fire, and near the middle of the house, sat a man, who, by his black + stock and military appearance, together with a scar over his brow that + gave him a most repulsive look, was evidently a pensioner or old soldier. + This person was engaged in examining some rusty fire-arms that had been + submitted to his inspection. His self-importance was amusing, as was also + the deferential aspect of those who, with arms in their hands, hammering + flints or turning screws, awaited patiently their turn for his opinion of + their efficiency. But perhaps the most striking group of all was that in + which a thick-necked, bull-headed young fellow, with blood-colored hair, a + son of Rousin Redhead's—who, by the way, was himself present—and + another beetle-browed slip were engaged in drawing for a wager, upon one + of the school-boy's slates, the figure of a coffin and cross-bones. A + hardened-looking old sinner, with murder legible in his face, held the few + half-pence which they wagered in his open hand, whilst in the other he + clutched a pole, surmounted by a bent bayonet that had evidently seen + service. The last group worthy of remark was composed of a few persons who + were writing threatening notices upon a leaf torn out of a school-boy's + copy, which was laid upon what they formerly termed a copy-board, of plain + deal, kept upon the knees, as a substitute for desks, while the boys were + writing. This mode of amusement was called waiting for the Article-bearer, + or the Captain, for such was Bartle Flanagan, who now entered the house, + and saluted all present with great cordiality. + </p> + <p> + “Begad, boys,” he said, “our four guards widout is worth any money. I had + to pass the sign-word afore 'I could pass myself, and that's the way it + ought to be. But, boys, before we go further, an' for fraid of thraitors, + I must call the rowl. You'll stand in a row roun' the walls, an' thin we + can make sure that there's no spies among us.” + </p> + <p> + He then called out a roll of those who were members of his lodge and, + having ascertained that all was right, he proceeded immediately to + business. + </p> + <p> + “Rousin Redhead, what's the raisin you didn't take the arms from Captain + St. Ledger's stewart? Sixteen men armed was enough to do it, an' yees + failed.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, an' if you had been wid us, and sixteen more to the back o' that, + you'd failed too. Begarra, captain dear, it seems that good people is + scarce. Look at Mickey Mulvather there, you see his head tied up; but aldo + he can play cards well enough, be me sowl, he's short of wan ear any how, + an' if you could meet wan o' the same Stewart's bullets, goin' abroad at + night like ourselves for its divarsion, it might tell how he lost it. + Bartle, I tell you a number of us isn't satisfied wid you. You sends us + out to meet danger, an' you won't come yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know, Rouser, that I always do go whenever I can? But I'm caged + now; faix I don't sleep in a barn, and can't budge as I used to do.” + </p> + <p> + “An' who's tyin' you to your place, thin?” + </p> + <p> + “Rouser,” replied Bartle, “I wish I had a thousand like you, not but I + have fine fellows. Boys, the thruth is this, you must all meet here + to-morrow night, for the short an' long of it is, that I'm goin' to run + away wid a wife.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” replied Redhead, “sure you can do that widout our assistance, if + she's willin' to come.” + </p> + <p> + “Willin'! why,” replied Bartle, “it's by her own appointment we're goin'.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if it is, then,” said the Rouser, who, in truth, was the leader of + the suspicious and disaffected party in Flanagan's lodge, “what the blazes + use have you for us?” + </p> + <p> + “Rouser Redhead,” said Bartle, casting a suspicious and malignant glance + at him, “might I take the liberty of axin' what you mane by spakin' of me + in that disparagin' manner? Do you renumber your oath? or do you forget + that you're bound by it to meet at twelve hours' notice, or less, whinever + you're called upon? Dar Chriestha! man, if I hear another word of the kind + out of your lips, down you go on the black list. Boys,” he proceeded, with + a wheedling look of good-humor to the rest, “we'll have neither Spies nor + Stags here, come or go what may.” + </p> + <p> + “Stags!” replied Rouser Redhead, whose face had already become scarlet + with indignation. “Stags, you say, Bartle Flanagan! Arrah, boys, I wondher + where is poor Connor O'Donovan by this time?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose bushin' it afore now,” said our friend of the preceding part of + the night. “I bushed it myself for a year and a half, but be Japurs I got + sick of it. But any how, Bartle, you oughn't to spake of Stags, for + although Connor refused to join us, damn your blood, you had no right to + go to inform upon him. Sure, only for the intherest that was made for him, + you'd have his blood on your sowl.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if he had itself,” observed one of Flanagan's friends, “'twould + signify very little. The Bodagh desarved what he got, and more if he had + got it. What right has he, one of our own purswadjion as he is to hould + out against us the way he does? Sure he's as rich as a Sassenach, an' may + hell resave the farden he'll subscribe towards our gettin' arms or + ammunition, or towards defindin' us when we're brought to thrial. So + hell's delight wid the dirty Bodagh, says myself for wan.” + </p> + <p> + “An' is that by way of defince of Captain Bartle Flanagan?” inquired + Rouser Redhead, indignantly. “An' so our worthy captain sint the man + across that punished our inimy, even accordian to your own provin', an' + that by staggin' aginst him. Of coorse, had the miser's son been one of + huz, Bartle's brains would be scattered to the four quarthers of heaven + long agone.” + </p> + <p> + “An' how did I know but he'd stag aginst me?” said Bartle, very calmly. + </p> + <p> + “Damn well you knew he would not,” observed Ned M'Cormick, now encouraged + by the bold and decided manner of Rouser Redhead. “Before ever you went + into Fardorougha's sarvice you sed to more than one that you'd make him + sup sorrow for his harshness to your father and family.” + </p> + <p> + “An' didn't he desarve it, Ned? Didn't he ruin us?” + </p> + <p> + “He might desarve it, an' I suppose he did; but what right had you to + punish the innocent for the guilty? You knew very well that both his son + and his wife always set their faces against his doin's.'” + </p> + <p> + “Boys,” said Flanagan, “I don't understand this, and I tell you more I + won't bear it. This night let any of you that doesn't like to be undher me + say so. Rouser Redhead, you'll never meet in a Ribbon Lodge agin. You're + scratched out of wan book, but by way of comfort you're down in another” + </p> + <p> + “What other, Bartle?” + </p> + <p> + “The black list. An' now I have nothin' more to say except that if there's + anything on your mind that wants absolution, look to it.” + </p> + <p> + We must now pause for a moment to observe upon that which we suppose the + sagacity of the reader has already discovered—that is, the + connection between what has occurred in Flanagan's lodge, and the last + dialogue which took place between Nogher and Connor O'Donovan. It is + evident that Nogher had spirits at work for the purpose both of watching + and contravening all Flanagan's plans, and, if possible, of drawing him + into some position which might justify the “few friends,” as he termed + them, first in disgracing him, and afterwards of settling their account + ultimately with a man whom they wished to blacken, as dangerous to the + society of which they were members. The curse, however, of these secret + confederacies, and indeed of ribbonism in general, is, that the savage + principle of personal vengeance is transferred from the nocturnal assault, + or the midday assassination, which may be directed against religious or + political enemies, to the private bickerings and petty jealousies that + must necessarily occur in a combination of ignorant and bigoted men, whose + passions are guided by no principle but one of practical cruelty. This + explains, as we have just put it, and justly put it, the incredible number + of murders which are committed in this unhappy country, under the name of + way-layings and midnight attacks, where the offence that caused them + cannot be traced by society at large, although it is an incontrovertible + fact, that to all those who are connected with ribbonism, in its varied + phases, it often happens that the projection of such murders is known for + weeks before they are perpetrated. The wretched assassin who murders a man + that has never offended him personally, and who suffers himself to become + the instrument of executing the hatred which originates from a principle + of general enmity again a class, will not be likely, once his hands are + stained with blood, to spare any one who may, by direct personal injury, + incur his resentment. Every such offence, where secret societies are + concerned, is made a matter of personal feeling and trial of strength + between factions, and of course a similar spirit is superinduced among + persons of the same creed and principles to that which actuates them + against those who differ from them in politics and religion. It is true + that the occurrence of murders of this character has been referred to as a + proof that secret societies are not founded or conducted upon a spirit of + religious rancor; but such an assertion is, in some cases, the result of + gross ignorance, and, in many more, of far grosser dishonesty. Their + murdering each other is not at all a proof of any such thing, but it, is a + proof, as we have said, that their habit of taking away human life, and + shedding human blood upon slight grounds or political feelings, follows + them from their conventional principles to their private resentments, and + is, therefore, such a consequence as might naturally be expected to result + from a combination of men who, in one sense, consider murder no crime. + Thus does this secret tyranny fall back upon society, as well as upon + those who are concerned in it, as a double curse; and, indeed, we believe + that even the greater number of these unhappy wretches whom it keeps + within its toils, would be glad if the principle were rooted out of the + country forever. + </p> + <p> + “An' so you're goin' to put my father down on the black list,” said the + beetle-browed son of the Rouser. “Very well, Bartle, do so; but do you see + that?” he added, pointing to the sign of the coffin and the cross-bones, + which he had previously drawn upon the slate; “dhav a sphirit Neev, if you + do, you'll waken some mornin' in a warmer counthry than Ireland.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said Bartle, quietly, but evidently shrinking from a threat + nearly as fearful, and far more daring than his own. “You know I have + nothin' to do except my duty. Yez are goin' aginst the cause, an' I must + report yez; afther whatever happens, won't come from me, nor from any one + here. It is from thim that's in higher quarters you'll get your doom, an' + not from me, or, as I said afore, from any one here. Mark that; but indeed + you know it as well as I do, an' I believe, Rouser, a good deal bether.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan's argument, to men who understood its dreadful import, was one + before which almost every description of personal courage must quail. + Persons were then present, Rouser Redhead among the rest, who had been + sent upon some of those midnight missions, which contumacy against the + system, when operating in its cruelty, had dictated. Persons of humane + disposition, declining to act on these sanguinary occasions, are generally + the first to be sacrificed, for individual life is nothing when + obstructing the propagation of general principle. + </p> + <p> + This truth, coming from Flanagan's lips, they themselves, some of whom had + executed its spirit, knew but too well. The difference, however, between + their apprehension, so far as they were individually concerned, was not + much; Flanagan had the person to fear, and his opponents the principle. + </p> + <p> + Redhead, however, who knew that whatever he had executed upon delinquents + like himself, might also upon himself be visited in his turn, saw that his + safest plan for the present was to submit; for indeed the meshes of the + White-boys' system leave no man's life safe, if he express hostile + opinions to it. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said he, “you know I'm no coward; an' I grant that you've a long + head at plannin' anything you set about. I don't see, in the mane time, + why, afther all, we should quarrel. You know me, Bartle; an' if anything + happens me, it won't be for nothin. I say no more; but I say still that + you throw the danger upon uz, and don't—” + </p> + <p> + “Rouser Redhead,” said Bartle, “give me jour hand. I say now, what I + didn't wish to say to-night afore, by Japurs, you're worth five men; an' + I'll tell you all, boys, you must meet the Rouser here to-morrow night, + an' we'll have a dhrink at my cost; an', boys—Rouser, hear me—you + all know your oaths; we'll do something to-morrow night—an' I say + again, Rouser, I'll be wid yez an' among yez; an' to prove my opinion of + the Rouser, I'll allow him to head us.” + </p> + <p> + “An', by the cross o' Moses, I'll do it in style,” rejoined the hot-headed + but unthinking fellow, who did not see that the adroit captain was placing + him in the post of danger. “I don't care a damn what it is—we'll + meet here to-morrow night, boys, an' I'll show you that I can lead as well + as folly. + </p> + <p> + “Whatever happens,” said Bartle, “we oughtn't to have any words or + bickerin's among ourselves at any rate. I undherstand that two among yez + sthruck one another. Sure yez know that there's not a blow ye giv to a + brother but's a perjury—an' there's no use in that, barin an' to + help forid the thruth. I'll say no more about it now; but I hope there'll + never be another blow given among yez. Now, get a hat, some o' yez, till + we draw cuts for six that I want to beat Tom Lynchagan, of Lisdhu; he's + worken for St. Ledger, afther gettin' two notices. He's a quiet, civil + man, no doubt; but that's not the thing. Obadience, or where's the use of + our meetin's at all? Give him a good sound batin', but no further—break + no bones.” + </p> + <p> + He then marked slips of paper, equal in number to those who were present, + with the numbers 1, 2, 3, &c, to correspond, after which he determined + that the three first numbers and the three last should go—all of + which was agreed to without remonstrance, or any apparent show of + reluctance whatever. “Now, boys,” he continued, “don't forget to attend + to-morrow night; an' I say to every man of you, as Darby Spaight said to + the divil, when he promised to join the rebellion, <i>'phe dha phecka + laght,'</i> (bring your pike with you,) bring the weapon.” + </p> + <p> + “An who's the purty girl that's goin' to wet you, Captain Bartle?” + inquired Dandy Duffy. + </p> + <p> + “The purtiest girl in this parish, anyhow,” replied Flanagan, unawares. + The words, however, were scarcely out of his lips, when he felt that he + had been indiscreet. He immediately added—“that is, if she is of + this parish; but I didn't say she is. Maybe We'll have to thravel a bit to + find her out, but come what come may, don't neglect to be all here about + half-past nine o'clock, wid your arms an' ammunition.” + </p> + <p> + Duffy, who had sat beside Ned M'Cormiek during the night, gave him a + significant look, which the other, who had, in truth, joined himself to + Flanagan's lodge only to watch his movements, as significantly returned. + </p> + <p> + When the men deputed to beat Lynchaghan had blackened their faces, the + lodge dispersed for the night, Dandy Duffy and Ned M'Cormick taking their + way home together, in order to consider of matters, with which the reader, + in due time, shall be made acquainted. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART7" id="link2H_PART7"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART VII. + </h2> + <p> + Our readers may recollect, that, at the close of that part of our tale + which appeared in the preceding number, Dandy Duffy and Ned M'Cormick + exchanged significant glances at each other, upon Flanagan's having + admitted unawares that the female he designed to take away on the + following night was “the purtiest girl in the parish.” The truth was, he + imagined at the moment that his designs were fully matured, and in the + secret vanity, or rather, we should say, in the triumphant villainy of his + heart, he allowed an expression' to incautiously pass his lips which was + nearly tantamount to an admission of Una's name. The truth of this he + instantly felt. But even had he not, by his own natural sagacity, + perceived it, the look of mutual intelligence which his quick and + suspicious eye observed to pass between Duffy and Ned M'Cormick would at + once have convinced him. Una was not merely entitled to the compliment so + covertly bestowed upon her extraordinary personal attractions, but in + addition it might have been truly affirmed that neither that nor any + adjoining parish could produce a female, in any rank, who could stand on a + level with her in the character of a rival beauty. This was admitted by + all who had ever seen the <i>colleen dhan dhun</i>, or “the purty brown + girl,” as she was called, and it followed as a matter of course, that + Flanagan's words could imply no other than the Bodagh's daughter. + </p> + <p> + It is unnecessary to say, that Flanagan,—knowing this as he did, + could almost have bit a portion of his own tongue off as a punishment for + its indiscretion. It was then too late, however, to efface the impression + which the words were calculated to make, and he felt besides that he would + only strengthen the suspicion by an over-anxiety to remove it. He, + therefore, repeated his orders respecting the appointed meeting on the + following night, although he had already resolved in his own mind to + change the whole plan of his operations. + </p> + <p> + Such was the precaution with which this cowardly but accomplished + miscreant proceeded towards the accomplishment of his purposes, and such + was his apprehension lest the premature suspicion of a single individual + might by contingent treachery defeat his design, or affect his personal + safety. He had made up his mind to communicate the secret of his + enterprise to none until the moment of its execution; and this being + accomplished, his ultimate plans were laid, as he thought, with sufficient + skill to baffle pursuit and defeat either the malice of his enemies or the + vengeance of the law. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had they left the schoolhouse than the Dandy and M'Cormick + immediately separated from the rest, in order to talk over the proceedings + of the night, with a view to their suspicions of the “Captain.” They had + not gone far, however, when they were overtaken by two others, who came up + to them at a quick, or, if I may be allowed the expression, an earnest + pace. The two latter were Rousin Redhead and his son, Corney. + </p> + <p> + “So, boys,” said the Rouser, “what do you think of our business to-night? + Didn't I get well out of his clutches?” + </p> + <p> + “Be me troth, Rouser, darlin',” replied the Dandy, “you niver wor + completely in them till this minnit.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dhar ma lham charth</i>,” said Corney, “I say he's a black-hearted + villin.” + </p> + <p> + “But how am I in his clutches, Dandy?” inquired the Rouser. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” rejoined Duffy, “didn't you see that for all you said about his + throwin' the post of danger on other people, he's givin' it to you + to-morrow night?” + </p> + <p> + Rousin Redhead stood still for nearly half a minute without uttering a + syllable; at length he seized Dandy by the arm, which he pressed with the + gripe of Hercules, for he was a man of huge size and strength. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Chorp ad dioual</i>, you giant, is it my arm you're goin' to break?” + </p> + <p> + “Be the tarnal primmer, Dandy Duffy, but I see it now!” said the Rouser, + struck by Bartle's address, and indignant at the idea of having been + overreached by him. “Eh, Corney,” he continued, addressing the son, + “hasn't he the Rouser set? I see, boys, I see. I'm a marked man wid him, + an' it's likely, for all he said, will be on the black list afore he + sleeps. Well, Corney avic, you an' others know how to act if anything + happens me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think,” said M'Cormick, who was a lad of considerable + penetration, “that you need be afeard of either him or the black list. Be + me sowl, I know the same Bartle well, an' a bigger coward never put a coat + on his back. He got as pale as a sheet, to-night, when Corney there + threatened him; not but he's desateful enough I grant, but he'd be a + greater tyrant only that he's so hen-hearted.” + </p> + <p> + “But what job,” said the rouser, “has he for us to-morrow night, do you + think? It must be something past the common. Who the <i>dioual</i> can he + have in his eye to run away wid?” + </p> + <p> + “Who's the the purtiest girl in the parish, Rouser?” asked Ned. “I thought + every one knew that.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, you don't mane for to say,” replied Redhead, “that he'd have the + spunk in him to run away with Bodagh Buie's daughter? Be the contents o' + the book, if I thought he'd thry it, I stick to him like a Throjan; the + dirty Bodagh, that, as Larry Lawdher said tonight, never backed or + supported us, or gev a single rap to help us, if a penny 'ud save us from + the gallis. To hell's delights wid him an' all belongin' to him, I say + too; an' I'll tell you What it is, boys, if Flanagan has the manliness to + take away his daughter, I'll be the first to sledge the door to pieces.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dhar a spiridh</i>, an' so will I,” said the young beetle-browed tiger + beside him; “thim that can an' won't help on the cause, desarves no mercy + from it.” + </p> + <p> + Thus spoke from the lips of ignorance and brutality that <i>esprit de + corps</i> of blood, which never scruples to sacrifice all minor + resentments to any opportunity of extending the cause, as it is termed, of + that ideal monster, in the promotion of which the worst principles of our + nature, still most active, are sure to experience the greatest glut of low + and gross gratification. Oh, if reason, virtue, and true religion, were + only as earnest and vigorous in extending their own cause, as ignorance, + persecution, and bigotry, how soon would society present a different + aspect! But, unfortunately, they cannot stoop to call in the aid of + tyranny, and cruelty, and bloodshed, nor of the thousand other atrocious + allies of falsehood and dishonesty, of which ignorance, craft, and + cruelty, never fail to avail themselves, and without which they could not + proceed successfully. + </p> + <p> + M'Cormick, having heard Rousin Redhead and his son utter such sentiments, + did not feel at all justified in admitting them to any confidence with + himself or Duffy. He accordingly replied with more of adroitness than of + candor to the savage sentiments they expressed. + </p> + <p> + “Faith, you're right, Rouser; he'd never have spunk, sure enough, to carry + off the Bodagh's daughter. But, in the mane time, who was spakin' about + her? Begor, if I thought he had the heart I'd—but he hasn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I know he hasn't,” said the Rouser. + </p> + <p> + “He's nothing but a white-livered dog,” said Duffy. + </p> + <p> + “I thought, to tell you the truth,” said M'Cormick, “that you might give a + guess as to the girl, but for the Bodagh's daughter, he has not the mettle + for that.” + </p> + <p> + “If he had,” replied the Rouser, “he might count upon Corney an' myself as + right-hand men. We all have a crow to pluck wid the dirty Bodagh, an', be + me zounds, it'll puzzle him to find a bag to hould the feathers.” + </p> + <p> + “One 'ud think he got enough,” observed M'Cormick, “in the loss of his + haggard.” + </p> + <p> + “But that didn't come from uz,” said the Rouser; “we have our share to + give him yet, an' never fear hell get it. We'll taich him to abuse us, an' + set us at defiance, as he's constantly doin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Rouser,” said M'Cormick, who now felt anxious to get rid of him, + “we'll be wishin' you a good night; we're goin' to have a while of a <i>kailyeah</i> + (An evening conversational visit) up at my uncle's. Corney, my boy, good + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night kindly, boys,” replied the other, “an' __banaght lath any + how.” + </p> + <p> + “Rouser, you divil,” said the Dandy, calling after them, “will you an' + blessed Corney there, offer up a Patthernavy for my conversion, for I'm + sure that both your prayers will go far?” + </p> + <p> + Rousin Redhead and Corney responded to this with a loud laugh, and a + banter. + </p> + <p> + “Ay, ay, Dandy; but, be me sowl, if they only go as far as your own + goodness sint you before now, it'll be seven years before they come back + again; eh, do you smell anything?—ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “The big boshthoon hot me fairly, begad,” observed the Dandy. Aside—“The + divil's own tongue he has.” + </p> + <p> + “Bad cess to you for a walkin' bonfire, an' go home,” replied the Dandy; + “I'm not a match for you wid the tongue, at all at all” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor wid anything else, barrin' your heels,” replied the Rouser; “or + your hands, if there was a horse in the way. Arrah, Dandy?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you graceful youth, well?” + </p> + <p> + “You ought to be a good workman by this time; you first lamed your thrade, + an' thin you put in your apprenticeship—ha, ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, an' Rouser I can promise you a merry end, my beatity; you'll be + the only man that'll dance at your own funeral; an' I'll tell you what, + Rouser, it'll be like an egg-hornpipe, wid your eyes covered. That's what + I call an active death, avouchal!” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, an' if you wor a priest, Dandy, you'd never die with your face to + the congregation. You'll be a rope-dancer yourself yet; only this, Dandy, + that you'll be undher the rope instead of over it, so good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Rouser,” exclaimed the other. “Rousin Redhead!” + </p> + <p> + “Go home,” replied the Rouser. “Good night, I say; you've thravelled a + great deal too far for an ignorant man like me to stand any chance wid + you. Your tongue's lighter than your hands (In Ireland, to be light—handed + signifies to be a thief) even, and that's payin' it a high compliment.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil sweep you, Brien,” said Dandy, “you'd beat the divil an' Docthor + Fosther, Good night again!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma bannaght laht, I say.” + </p> + <p> + And they accordingly parted. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Ned, “what's to be done Dandy? As sure as gun's iron, this + limb of hell will take away the Bodagh's daughter, if we don't do + something to prevent it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not puttin' it past him,” returned his companion, “but how to prevent + it is the thing. He has the boys all on his side, barrin' yourself and me, + an' a few more.” + </p> + <p> + “An' you see, Ned, the Bodagh is so much hated, that even some of thim + that don't like Flanagan, won't scruple to join him in this.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if we were known to let the cat out o' the bag to the Bodagh, we + might as well prepare our coffins at wanst.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, sure enough—that's but gospel, Ned,” replied the Dandy; + still it 'ud be the <i>milliah</i> murdher to let the double-faced villin + carry off such a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you what you'll do, thin, Dandy,” rejoined Ned, “what if you'd + walk down wid me as far as the Bodagh's.” + </p> + <p> + “For why? Sure they're in bed now, man alive.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” said M'Cormick; “but how—an—ever, if you come + down wid me that far, I'll conthrive to get in somehow, widout wakenin' + them.” + </p> + <p> + “The dickens you will! How, the sarra, man?” + </p> + <p> + “No matther, I will; an' you see,” he added, pulling out a flask of + spirits, “I'm not goin' impty-handed.” + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” exclaimed Duffy, “is it there you are?—oh, that indeed! + Faith I got a whisper of it some time ago, but it wint out o' my head. + Biddy Nulty, faix—a nate clane girl she is, too.” + </p> + <p> + “But that's not the best of it, Dandy. Sure, blood alive, I can tell you a + sacret—may dipind? Honor bright! The Bodagh's daughter, man, is to + give her a portion, in regard to her bein' so thrue to Connor O'Donovan. + Bad luck to the oath she'd swear aginst him if they'd made a queen of her, + but outdone the counsellors and lawyers, an' all the whole bobbery o' + them, whin they wanted her to turn king's evidence. Now, it's not but I'd + do anything to serve the purty Bodagh's daughter widout it; but you see, + Dandy, if white-liver takes her off, I may stand a bad chance for the + portion.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more; I'll go wid you; but how will you get in, Ned?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind that; here, take a pull out of this flask before you go + any further. Blood an' flummery! what a night; divil a my finger I can see + before me. Here—where's your hand?—that's it; warm your heart, + my boy.” + </p> + <p> + “You intind thin, Ned, to give Biddy the hard word about Flanagan?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, to bid her put them on their guard; sure there can be no harm in + that.” + </p> + <p> + “They say, Ned, it's not safe to trust a woman; what if you'd ax to see + the Bodagh's son, the young soggarth?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd trust my life to Biddy—she that was so honest to the Donovans + wouldn't be desateful to her sweetheart that—he—hem—she's + far gone in consate wid—your sowl. Her brother Alick's to meet me at + the Bodagh's on his way from their lodge, for they hould a meetin to-night + too.” + </p> + <p> + “Never say it again. I'll stick to you; so push an, for it's late. You'll + be apt to make up the match before you part, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “That won't be hard to do any time, Dandy.” + </p> + <p> + Both then proceeded down the same field, which we have already said was + called the Black Park, in consequence of its dark and mossy soil. Having, + with some difficulty, found the stile at the lower end of it, they passed + into a short car track, which they were barely able to follow. + </p> + <p> + The night, considering that it was the month of November, was close and + foggy—such as frequently follows a calm day of incessant rain. The + bottoms were plashing, the drams all full, and the small rivulets and + streams about the country were above their hanks, whilst the larger rivers + swept along with the hoarse continuous murmurs of an unusual flood. The + sky was one sheet of blackness—for not a cloud could be seen, or + anything, except the passing gleam of a cottage taper, lessened by the + haziness of the night into a mere point of faint light, and thrown by the + same cause into a distance which appeared to the eye much more remote than + that of reality. + </p> + <p> + After having threaded their way for nearly a mile, the water spouting + almost at every step up to their knees, they at length came to an old + bridle—way, deeply shaded with hedges on each side. They had not + spoken much since the close of their last dialogue; for, the truth is, + each had enough to do, independently of dialogue, to keep himself out of + drains and quagmires. An occasional “hanamondioul, I'm into the hinches;” + “holy St. Peter, I'm stuck;” “tun—dher an' turf, where are you at + all?” or, “by this an' by that, I dunno where I am,” were the only words + that passed between them, until they reached the little road we are + speaking, of, which, in fact, was one unbroken rut, and on such a night + almost impassable. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said M'Cormick, “we musn't keep this devil's gut, for conshumin' to + the shoe or stockin' ever we'd bring out of it; however, do you folly me, + Dandy, and there's no danger.” + </p> + <p> + “I can do nothing else,” replied the other, “for I know no more where I am + than the man of the moon, who, if all's thrue that's sed of him, is the + biggest blockhead alive.” + </p> + <p> + M'Cormick, who knew the path well, turned off the road into a pathway that + ran inside the hedge and along the fields, but parallel with the muddy + boreen in question. They now found themselves upon comparatively clear + ground, and, with the exception of an occasional slip or two, in + consequence of the heavy rain, they had little difficulty in advancing. At + this stage of their journey not a light was to be seen nor a sound of life + heard, and it was evident that the whole population of the neighborhood + had sunk to rest. + </p> + <p> + “Where will this bring us to, Ned?” asked the Dandy—“I hope we'll + soon be at the Bodagh's.” + </p> + <p> + M'Cormick stood and suddenly pressed his arm, “Whisht!” said he, in an + under-tone, “I think I hard voices.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied the other in the same low tone. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure I did,” said Ned, “take my word for it, there's people before us + on the boreen—whisht!” + </p> + <p> + They both listened, and very distinctly heard a confused but suppressed + murmur of voices, apparently about a hundred yards before them on the + little bridle—way. Without uttering a word they both proceeded as + quietly and quickly as possible, and in a few minutes nothing separated + them but the hedge. The party on the road were wallowing through the mire + with great difficulty, many of them, at the same time, bestowing very + energetic execrations upon it and upon those who suffered it to remain in + such a condition. Even oaths, however, were uttered in so low and cautious + a tone, that neither M'Cormick nor the Dandy could distinguish their + voices so clearly as to recognize those who spoke, supposing that they had + known them. Once or twice they heard the clashing of arms or of iron + instruments of some sort, and it seemed to them that the noise was + occasioned by the accidental jostling together of those who carried them. + At length they heard one voice exclaim rather testily. “D—n your + blood, Bartle Flanagan, will you have patience till I get my shoe out o' + the mud—you don't expect me to lose it, do you? We're not goin' to + get a purty wife, whatever you may be.” + </p> + <p> + The reply to this was short, but pithy—“May all the divils in hell's + fire pull the tongue out o' you, for nothin' but hell itself, you villin, + timpted me to bring you with me.” + </p> + <p> + This was not intended to be heard, nor was it by the person against whom + it was uttered, he being some distance behind—but as Ned and his + companion were at that moment exactly on the other side of the hedge, they + could hear the words of this precious soliloquy—for such it was—delivered + as they were with a suppressed energy of malignity, worthy of the heart + which suggested them. + </p> + <p> + M'Cormick immediately pulled Duffy's coat, without speaking a word, as a + hint to follow him with as little noise as possible, which he did, and ere + many minutes they were so far in advance of the others, as to be enabled + to converse without being heard. “<i>Thar Bheah</i> Duffy,” said his + companion, “there's not a minute to be lost.” + </p> + <p> + “There is not,” replied the other—“but what will you do with me? + I'll lend a hand in any way I can—but remember that if we're seen, + or if it's known that we go against them in this—” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the other, “we're gone men; still we must manage it + somehow, so as to save the girl; God! if it was only on Connor O'Donovan's + account, that's far away this night, I'd do it. Dandy you wor only a boy + when Blannarhasset prosecuted you, and people pitied you at the time, and + now they don't think much the worse of you for it; an' you know it was + proved since, that what you sed then was thrue, that other rogues made you + do it, an' thin lift you in the lurch. But d—n it, where's the use + of all this? give me your hand, it's life or death—can I thrust + you?” + </p> + <p> + “You may,” said the other, “you may, Ned; do whatever you wish with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” continued Ned, “I'll go into the house, and do you keep near to + them without bein' seen; watch their motions; but above all things, if + they take her off—folly on till you see where they'll bring her; + after that they can get back enough—the sogers, if they're a + wantin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Depind an me, Ned; to the core depind an me.” + </p> + <p> + They had now reached the Bodagh's house, upon which, as upon every other + object around them, the deep shadows of night rested heavily. The Dandy + took up his position behind one of the porches of the gate that divided + the little grass—plot before the hall—door and the farmyard, + as being the most central spot, and from which he could with more ease + hear, or as far as might be observe, the plan and nature of their + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + It was at least fifteen minutes before they reached the little avenue that + led up to the Bodagh's residence; for we ought to have told our readers, + that M'Cormick and Duffy, having taken a short path, left the others—who, + being ignorant of it, were forced to keep to the road—considerable + behind them. Ned was consequently from ten to fifteen minutes in the house + previous to their arrival. At length they approached silently, and with + that creeping pace which betokens either fear or caution, as the case may + be, and stood outside the gate which led to the grass-plot before the + hall-door, not more than three or four yards from the porch of the + farm-yard gate where the Dandy stood concealed. And here he had an + opportunity of witnessing the extreme skill with which Flanagan conducted + this nefarious exploit. After listening for about a minute, he found that + their worthy leader was not present, but he almost immediately discovered + that he was engaged in placing guards upon all the back windows of the + dwelling-house and kitchen. During his absence the following short + consultation took place among those whom he left behind him, for the + purpose of taking a personal part in the enterprise: + </p> + <p> + “It was too thrue what Rousin Redhead said to-night,” observed one of + them, “he always takes care to throw the post of danger on some one else. + Nowit's not that I'm afeared, but as he's to have the girl himself, it's + but fair that his own neck should run the first danger, an' not mine.” + </p> + <p> + They all assented to this. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, boys,” he proceeded, “if yez support me, well make him head + this business himself. It's his own consarn, not ours; an' besides, as he + houlds the Articles, it's his duty to lead us in everything. So I for wan, + won't take away his girl, an' himself keepin' back. If there's any one + here that'll take my place for his, let him now say so.” + </p> + <p> + They were all silent as to that point; but most of them said, they wished, + at all events, to give “the dirty Bodagh,” for so they usually called him, + something to remember them by, in consequence of his having, on all + occasions, stood out against the system. + </p> + <p> + “Still it's fair,” said several of them, “that in takin' away the colleen, + Bartle should go foremost, as she's for himself an' 'not for huz.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you'll all agree to this?” + </p> + <p> + “We do, but whist—here he is.” + </p> + <p> + Deeply mortified was their leader on finding that they had come + unanimously to this determination. It was too late now, however, to reason + with them, and the crime, to the perpetration of which he brought them, + too dangerous in its consequences, to render a quarrel with them safe or + prudent. He felt himself, therefore, in a position which, of all others, + he did not wish. Still his address was too perfect to allow any symptoms + of chagrin or disappointment to be perceptible in his voice or manner, + although, the truth is, he cursed them in his heart at the moment, and + vowed in some shape or other to visit their insubordination with + vengeance. + </p> + <p> + Such, indeed, is the nature of these secret confederacies that are opposed + to the laws of the land, and the spirit of religion. It matters little how + open and apparently honest the conduct of such men may be among each + other; there is, notwithstanding this, a distrust, a fear, a suspicion, + lurking at every heart, that renders personal security unsafe, and life + miserable. But how, indeed, can they repose confidence in each other, when + they know that in consequence of their connection with such systems, many + of the civil duties of life cannot be performed without perjury on the one + hand, or risk of life on the other, and that the whole principle of the + combination is founded upon hatred, revenge, and a violation of all moral + obligation? + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” said their leader, “as your minds is made up, boys, follow + me as quickly as you can, an' don't spake a word in your own voices.” + </p> + <p> + They approached the hall-door, with the exception of six, who stood + guarding the front windows of the dwelling-house and kitchen; and, to the + Dandy's astonishment, the whole party, amounting to about eighteen, + entered the house without either noise or obstruction of any kind. + </p> + <p> + “By Japurs,” thought he to himself, “there's thraichery there, any how.” + </p> + <p> + This now to the Dandy was a moment of intense interest. Though by no means + a coward, or a young fellow of delicate nerves, yet his heart beat + furiously against his ribs, and his whole frame shook with excitement. He + would, in truth, much rather have been engaged in the outrage, than forced + as he was, merely to look on without an opportunity of taking a part in + it, one way or the other. Such, at least, were his own impressions, when + the report of a gun was heard inside the house. + </p> + <p> + <i>Dhar an Iffrin</i>, thought he again, I'll bolt in an' see what's goin' + an—oh <i>ma shaght millia mattach orth</i>, Flanagan, if you spill + blood—Jasus above! Well, any how, come or go what may, we can hang + him for this—glory be to God! + </p> + <p> + These reflections were very near breaking-forth into words. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like that,” said one of the guards to another; “he may take the + girl away, but it's not the thing to murdher any one belongin' to a dacent + family, an' of our own religion.” + </p> + <p> + “If it's only the Bodagh got it,” replied his comrade, who was no other + than Micky Malvathra, “blaizes to the hair I care. When my brother Barney, + that suffered for <i>Caam Beal</i> (crooked mouth) Grime's business, was + before his thrial, hell resave the taisther the same Bodagh would give to + defind him.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn it,” rejoined the other, “but to murdher a man in his bed! Why, now, + if it was only comin' home from a fair or market, but at midnight, an' in + his bed, begorra it is not the thing, Mickey.” + </p> + <p> + There was now a pause in the conversation for some minutes; at length, + screams were heard, and the noise of men's feet, as if engaged in a + scuffle upon the stairs, for the hall-door lay open. A light, too, was + seen, but it appeared to have been blown out; the same noise of feet + tramping, as if still in a tumult, approached the door, and almost + immediately afterwards Flanagan's party approached, bearing in their arms + a female, who panted and struggled as if she had been too weak to shriek + or call for assistance. The hall-door was then pulled to and locked by + those who were outside. + </p> + <p> + The Dandy could see, by the passing gleam of light which fell upon those + who watched beside him, that their faces were blackened, and their clothes + covered by a shirt, as was usual with the Whiteboys of old, and for the + same object—that of preventing—themselves from being + recognized by their apparel. + </p> + <p> + “So far so good,” said Flanagan, who cared not now whether his voice was + known or not; “the prize is mine, boys, an' how to bring ma colleen dhas + dhun to a snug place, an' a friendly priest that I have to put the knot on + us for life.” + </p> + <p> + “By —-,” thought Duffy, “I'll put a different kind of a knot on you + for that, if I should swing myself for it.” + </p> + <p> + They hurried onwards with as much speed as possible, bearing the fainting + female in a seat formed by clasping their hands together. Duffy still + stood in his place of concealment, waiting to let them get so far in + advance as that he might dog them without danger of being heard. Just then + a man cautiously approached, and in a whisper asked, “Is that Dandy?” + </p> + <p> + “It is—Saver above, Ned, how is this? all's lost!” + </p> + <p> + “No, no—I hope not—but go an' watch them; we'll folly as soon + as we get help. My curse on Alick Nulty, he disappointed me an' didn't + come; if he had, some of the Bodagh's sarvant boys would be up wid us in + the kitchen, an' we could bate them back aisy; for Flanagan, as I tould + you, is a dam-coward.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thin, I'll trace them,” replied the other; “but you know that in + sich darkness as this you haven't a minute to lose, otherwise you'll miss + them.” + </p> + <p> + “Go an; but afore you go listen, be the light of day, not that we have + much of it now any way—by the vestment, Biddy Nulty's worth her + weight in Bank of Ireland notes; now pelt and afther them; I'll tell you + again.” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan's party were necessarily forced to retrace their steps along the + sludgy boreen we have mentioned, and we need scarcely say, that, in + consequence of the charge with which they were encumbered, their progress + was proportionally slow; to cross the fields on such a night was out of + the question. + </p> + <p> + The first thing Flanagan did, when he found his prize safe, was to tie a + handkerchief about her mouth that she might not scream, and to secure her + hands together by the wrists. Indeed, the first of these precautions + seemed to be scarcely necessary, for what with the terror occasioned by + such unexpected and frightful violence, and the extreme delicacy of her + health, it was evident that she could not utter even a shriek. Yet, did + she, on the other hand, lapse into fits of such spasmodic violence as, + wrought up as she was by the horror of her situation, called forth all her + physical energies, and literally give her the strength of three women. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well,” observed one of the fellows, who had assisted in holding her + down during these wild fits, “you may talk of jinteel people, but be the + piper o' Moses, that same sick daughter of the Bodagh's is the hardiest + sprout I've laid my hands on this month o' Sundays.” + </p> + <p> + “May be you'd make as hard a battle yourself,” replied he to whom he + spoke, “if you wor forced to a thing you hate as much as she hates + Bartle.” + </p> + <p> + “May be so,” rejoined the other, with an incredulous shrug, that seemed to + say he was by no means satisfied by the reasoning of his companion. + </p> + <p> + Bartle now addressed his charge with a hope of reconciling her, if + possible, to the fate of becoming united to him. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be at all alarmed, Miss Oona, for indeed you may take my word for + it, that I'll make as good and as lovin' a husband as ever had a purty + wife. It's two or three years since I fell in consate wid you, an' I + needn't tell you, darlin', how happy I'm now, that you're mine. I have two + horses waitin' for us at the end of this vile road, an', plase Providence, + we'll ride onwards a bit, to a friend's house o' mine, where I've a priest + ready to tie the knot; an' to-morrow, if you're willin', we'll start for + America; but if you don't like that, we'll live together till you'll be + willin' enough, I hope, to go any where I wish. So take heart, darlin', + take heart. As for the money I made free wid out o' your desk, it'll help + to keep us comfortable; it was your own, you know, an' who has a betther + right to be at the spendin' of it?” + </p> + <p> + This, which was meant for consolation, utterly failed, or rather + aggravated the sufferings of the affrighted girl they bore, who once more + struggled with a power that resembled the intense muscular strength of + epilepsy, more than anything else. It literally required four of them to + hold her down, so dreadfully spasmodic were her efforts to be free. + </p> + <p> + The delay caused by those occasional workings of terror, at a moment when + Flanagan expected every sound to be the noise of pursuit, wrought up his + own bad passions to a furious height. His own companions could actually + hear him grinding his teeth with vexation and venom, whenever anything on + her part occurred to retard their flight. All this, however, he kept to + himself, owing to the singular command he possessed over his passions. + Nay, he undertook, once more, the task of reconciling her to the agreeable + prospect, as he termed it, that life presented her. + </p> + <p> + “We'll be as happy as the day's long,” said he, “espichilly when heaven + sends us a family; an' upon my troth a purty mother you'll make? suppose, + darlin' love, you wondher how I got in to-night, but I tell you I've my + wits about me; you don't know that it was I encouraged Biddy Nulty to go + to live wid you, but I know what I was about then; Biddy it was that left + the door open for me, an' that tould me the room you lay in, an' the place + you keep your hard goold an' notes; I mintion these things to show you how + I have you hemmed in, and that your wisest way is to submit without makin' + a rout about it. You know that if you wor taken from me this minit, there + 'ud be a stain upon your name that 'ud never lave it, an' it wouldn't be + my business, you know, to clear up your character, but the conthrary. As + for Biddy, the poor fool, I did all in my power to prevint her bein' fond + o' me, but ever since we two lived with the ould miser, somehow she + couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + For some time before he had proceeded thus far, there was felt, by those + who carried their fair charge, a slight working of her whole body, + especially of the arms, and in a moment Flanagan, who walked a little in + advance of her, with his head bent down, that he might not be put to the + necessity of speaking loud, suddenly received, right upon his nose, such + an incredible facer as made the blood spin a yard out of it. + </p> + <p> + “May all the curses of heaven an' hell blast you, for a cowardly, + thraicherous, parjured stag! Why, you black-hearted informer, see now what + you've made by your cunnin'. Well, we hope you'll keep your word—won't + I make a purty mother, an' won't we be happy as the day's long, espichilly + when Heaven sends us a family? Why, you rap of hell, aren't you a + laughing-stock this minute? An' to go to take my name too—an' to + leave the guilt of some other body's thraichery on me, that you knew in + your burnin' sowl to be innocent—me, a poor girl that has only my + name an' good character to carry me through the world. Oh, you + mane-sphirted, revengeful dog, for you're not a man, or you'd not go to + take sich revenge upon a woman, an' all for sayin' an' puttin' it out on + you, what I ever an' always will do, that struv to hang Connor O'Donovan, + knowin' that it was yourself did the crime the poor boy is now sufferin' + for. Ha! may the sweetest an' bitterest of bad luck both meet upon you, + you villin! Amin I pray this night!” + </p> + <p> + The scene that followed this discovery, and the unexpected act which + produced it, could not, we think, be properly described by either pen or + pencil. Flanagan stood with his hands alternately kept to his nose, from + which he flung away the blood, as it sprung out in a most copious stream. + Two-thirds, indeed we might say three-fourths of his party, were convulsed + with suppressed laughter, nor could they prevent an occasional cackle from + being heard, when forcibly drawing in their breath, in an effort not to + offend their leader. The discovery of the mistake was, in itself, + extremely ludicrous, but when the home truths uttered by Biddy, and the + indescribable bitterness'caused by the disappointment, joined to the home + blow, were all put together, it might be said that the darkness of hell + itself was not so black as the rage, hatred, and thirst of vengeance, + which at this moment consumed Bartle Flanagan's heart. He who had laid his + plans so artfully that he thought failure in securing his prize + impossible, now not only to feel that he was baffled by the superior + cunning of a girl, and made the laughing-stock of his own party, who + valued him principally upon his ability in such matters; but, in addition + to this, to have his heart and feelings torn, as it were, out of his body, + and flung down before him and his confreres in all their monstrous + deformity, and to be jeered at, moreover, and despised, and literally + cuffed by the female who outreached him—this was too much; all the + worst passions within him were fired, and he swore in his own heart a deep + and blasphemous oath, that Biddy Nulty never should part from him unless + as a degraded girl. + </p> + <p> + The incident that we have just related happened so quickly that Flanagan' + had not time to reply a single word, and Biddy followed up her imprecation + by a powerful effort to release herself. + </p> + <p> + “Let me home this minnit, you villin,” she continued; “now that you find + yourself on the wrong scent—boys, don't hould me, nor back that + ruffin in his villany.” + </p> + <p> + “Hould her like hell,” said Bartle, “an' tie her up wanst more; we'll gag + you, too, my lady—ay, will we. Take away your name—I'll take + care you'll carry shame upon your face from this night to the hour of your + death. Characther indeed!—ho, by the crass I'll lave you that little + of that will go far wid you.” + </p> + <p> + “May be not,” replied Biddy; “the same God that disappointed you in + hangin' Connor O'Donovan—” + </p> + <p> + “Damn you,” said he, “take that;” and as he spoke he struck the poor girl + a heavy blow in the cheek, which cut her deeply, and for a short time + rendered her speechless. + </p> + <p> + “Bartle,” said more than one of them, “that's unmanly, an' it's conthrary + to the regulations.' + </p> + <p> + “To perdition wid the regulations! Hasn't the vagabone drawn a pint of + blood from my nose already?—look at that!” he exclaimed, throwing + away a handful of the warm gore “hell seize her! look at that—Ho be + the—” He made another onset at the yet unconscious girl as he spoke, + and would have still inflicted further punishment upon her, were it not + that he was prevented. + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” said several of them, “if you wor over us fifty times you won't + lay another finger on her; that's wanst for all, so be quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “Are yez threatenin' me?” he asked, furiously, but in an instant he + changed his tone—“Boys dear,” continued the wily but unmanly villain—“boys + dear, can you blame me? disappointed as I am by this—by this—<i>ha + anhien na sthreepa</i>—I'll——” but again he checked + himself, and at length burst out into a bitter fit of weeping. “Look at' + this,” he proceeded, throwing away another handful of blood, “I've lost a + quart of it by her.” + </p> + <p> + “Be the hand af my body,” said one of them in a whisper, “he's like every + coward, it's at his own blood he's cryin'; be the vartue of my oath, that + man's not the thing to depind on.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she tied an' gagged?” he then inquired. + </p> + <p> + “She is,” replied those who tied her. “It was very asy done, Bartle, + afther the blow you hot her.” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't altogether out of ill—will I hot her aither,” he replied, + “although, boys dear, you know how she vexed me, but you see, the thruth + is, she'd a' given us a great dale o' throuble in gettin' her quiet.” + </p> + <p> + “An' you tuck the right way to do that,” they replied ironically; and they + added, “Bartle Flanagan, you may thank the oaths we tuck, or be the crass, + a single man of us wouldn't assist you in this consarn, afther your + cowardly behaver to this poor girl. Takin' away the Bodagh's daughter was + another thing; you had betther let the girl go home.” + </p> + <p> + Biddy had now recovered, and heard this suggestion with joy, for the poor + girl began to entertain serious apprehensions of Flanagan's revenge and + violence, if left alone with him; she could not speak, however, and those + who bore her, quickened their pace at his desire, as much as they could. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Bartle, artfully, “I'll keep her prisoner anyhow for this + night. I had once a notion of marryin' her—an' may be—as I am + disappointed in the other—but we'll think of it. Now we're at the + horses and we'll get an faster.” + </p> + <p> + This was indeed true. + </p> + <p> + After the journey we have just described, they at length got out of the + boreen, where, in the corner of a field, a little to the right, two + horses, each saddled, were tied to the branch of a tree. They now made a + slight delay until their charge should be got mounted, and were collected + in a group on the road, when a voice called out, “Who goes there?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend to the guard.” + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow mornin' to you!” + </p> + <p> + “What Age are you in?” + </p> + <p> + “The end of the fifth.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Bartle, aloud; “now, boys,” he whispered to his own + party, “we must tell them good-humoredly to pass on—that this is a + runaway—jist a girl we're bringin' aff wid us, an' to hould a hard + cheek (*To keep it secret) about it. You know we'd do as much for them.” + </p> + <p> + Both parties now met, the strangers consisting of about twenty men. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boys,” said the latter, “what's the fun?” + </p> + <p> + “Devil a thing but a girl we're helpin' a boy to take away. What's your + own sport?” + </p> + <p> + “Begorra, we wor in luck to-night; we got as party a double-barrelled gun + as ever you seen, an' a case of murdherin' fine—pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “Success, ould heart! that's right; we'll be able to stand a tug whin the + 'Day' comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Which of you is takin' away the girl, boys?” inquired one of the + strangers. + </p> + <p> + “Begad, Bartle Flanagan, since there's no use in hidin' it, when we're all + as we ought to be.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle Flanagan!” said a voice—“Bartle Flanagan, is it? An' who's + the girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Blur an' agres, Alick Nulty, don't be too curious, she comes from Bodagh + Buie's.” + </p> + <p> + Biddy, on hearing the voice of her brother, made another violent effort, + and succeeded in partially working the gag out of her mouth—she + screamed faintly, and struggled with such energy that her hands again + became loose, and in an instant the gag was wholly I removed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Alick, Alick, for the love o' God save me from Flanagan! it's me, your + sisther Biddy, that's in it; save me, Alick, or I'll be lost; he has cut + me to the bone wid a blow, an' the blood's pourin' from me.” + </p> + <p> + Her brother flew to her. “Whisht, Biddy, don't be afeard!” he exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Boys,” said he, “let my party stand by me; this is the way Bartle + Flanagan keeps his oath!” (* One of the clauses of the Ribbon oath was, + not to injure or maltreat the wife or sister of a brother Ribbonman.) + </p> + <p> + “Secure Bartle,” said Biddy. “He robbed Bodagh Buie's house, an' has the + money about him.” + </p> + <p> + The horses were already on the road, but, in consequence of both parties + filling up the passage in the direction which Bartle and nis followers + intended taking, the animals could not be brought through them without + delay and trouble, even had there been no resistance offered to their + progress. + </p> + <p> + “A robber too!” exclaimed Nulty, “that's more of his parjury to'ards uz. + Bartle Flanagan, you're a thraitor, and you'll get a thraitor's death + afore you're much oulder. He's not fit to be among us,” added Alick, + addressing himself to both parties, “an' the truth is, if we don't hang or + settle him, he'll some day hang us.” + </p> + <p> + “Bartle's no thraitor,” said Mulvather, “but he's a thraitor that says he + is.” + </p> + <p> + The coming reply was interrupted by “Boys, good night to yez;” and + immediately the clatter of a horse's feet was heard stumbling and + floundering back along the deep stony boreen. “Be the vestment he's aff,” + said one of his party; “the cowardly villin's aff wid himself the minit he + seen the approach of danger.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure enough, the bad dhrop's in him,” exclaimed several on both sides. + “But what the h—l does he mane now, I dunna?” + </p> + <p> + “It'll be only a good joke to-morrow wid him,” observed one of them—“but, + boys, we must think how to manage him; I can't forgive him for the + cowardly blow he hot the poor colleen here, an' for the same rason I + didn't dhraw the knot so tight upon her as I could a' done.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it you that nipped my arm?” asked Biddy. + </p> + <p> + “Faix, you may say that, an' it was to let you know that, let him say as + he would, after what we seen of him to-night, we wouldn't allow him to + thrate you badly without marryin' you first.” + </p> + <p> + The night having been now pretty far advanced, the two parties separated + in order to go to their respective homes—Alick taking Biddy under + his protection to her master's. As the way of many belonging to each lodge + lay in the same direction, they were accompanied, of course, to the turn + that led up to the Bodagh's house. Biddy, notwithstanding the severe blow + she had got, related the night's adventure with much humor, dwelling upon + her own part in the transaction with singular glee. + </p> + <p> + “There's some thraicherous villin in the Bodagh's,” said she, “be it man + or woman; for what 'id you think but the hall-door was left lying to only—neither + locked nor boulted. But, indeed, anyhow, it's the start was taken out o' + me whin Ned M'Cormick—that <i>you</i> wor to meet in our kitchen, + Alick—throth, I won't let <i>Kitty Lowry</i> wait up for <i>you</i> + so long another time.” She added this to throw the onus of the assignation + off her own shoulders, and to lay it upon those of Alick and Kitty. “But, + anyhow, I had just time to throw her clothes upon me and get into her bed. + Be me sowl, but I acted the fright an' sickness in style. I wasn't able to + spake a word, you persave, till we got far enough from the house to give + Miss Oona time to hide herself. Oh, thin, the robbin' villin how he put + the muzzle of his gun to the lock of Miss Oona's desk, when he couldn't + get the key, an' blewn it to pieces, an' thin he took every fardin' he + could lay his hands upon.” + </p> + <p> + She then detailed her own feelings during the abduction, in terms so + ludicrously abusive of Flanagan, that those who accompanied her were + exceedingly amused; for what she said was strongly provocative of mirth, + yet the chief cause of laughter lay in the vehement sincerity with which + she spoke, and in the utter unconsciousness of uttering anything that was + calculated to excite a smile. There is, however, a class of such persons, + whose power of provoking laughter consists in the utter absence of humor. + Those I speak of never laugh either at what they say themselves, or what + any one else may say; but they drive on right ahead with an inverted + originality that is perfectly irresistible. + </p> + <p> + We must now beg the reader to accompany them to the Bodagh's, where a + scene awaited them for which they were scarcely prepared. On approaching + the house they could perceive, by the light glittering from the window + chinks, that the family were in a state of alarm; but at this they were + not surprised; for such a commotion in the house, after what had occurred, + was but natural. They went directly to the kitchen door and rapped. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” said a voice within. + </p> + <p> + “It's Biddy; for the love o' God make haste, Kitty, an' open.” + </p> + <p> + “What Biddy are you? I won't open.” + </p> + <p> + “Biddy Nulty. You know me well enough, Kitty; so make haste an' open, + Alick, mark my words,” said she in a low voice to her brother, “Kitty's + the very one that practised the desate this night—that left the + hall-door open. Make haste, Kitty, I say.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do no such thing indeed,” replied the other; “it was you left the + hall-door open to-night, an' I heard you spakin' to fellows outside. I + have too much regard for my masther's house an' family to let you or any + one else in to-night. Come in the mornin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Folly me, Alick,” said Biddy, “folly me.” + </p> + <p> + She went immediately to the hall-door, and gave such a single rap with the + knocker, as brought more than Kitty to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Who's there?” inquired a voice, which she and her brother at once knew to + be Ned M'Cormick's. + </p> + <p> + “Ned, for the love o' God, let me an' Alick in!” she replied; “we got away + from that netarnal villin.” + </p> + <p> + Instantly the door was opened, and the first thing Ned did was to put his + arms about Biddy's neck, and—we were going to say kiss her. + </p> + <p> + “Saints above!” said he, “what's this?” on seeing that her face was + dreadfully disfigured with blood. + </p> + <p> + “Nothin' to signify,” she replied; “but thanks be to God, we got clane + away from the villin, or be the Padheren Partha, the villin it was that + got clane away from hus. How is Miss Oona?” + </p> + <p> + “She went over to a neighbor's house for safety,” replied Ned, smiling, + “an' will be back in a few minutes; but who do you think, above all men in + the five quarters o' the earth, we have got widin? Guess now.” + </p> + <p> + “Who?” said Biddy; “why, I dunna, save—but no, it couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Faix but it could, though,” said Ned, mistaking her, as the matter turned + out. + </p> + <p> + “Why, vick na hoiah, no! Connor O'Donovan back! Oh! no, no, Ned; that 'ud + be too good news to be thrue.” + </p> + <p> + The honest lad shook his head with an expression of regret that could not + be mistaken as the exponent of a sterling heart. And yet, that the reader + may perceive how near akin that one circumstance was to the other in his + mind, we have only to say, that whilst the regret for Connor was deeply + engraven on his features, yet the expression of triumph was as clearly + legible as if his name had not been at all mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “Who, then, Ned?” said Alick. “Who the dickens is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, divil resave the other than Bartle Flanagan himself—secured—and + the constables sent for—an' plaze the Saver he'll be in the stone + jug afore his head gets gray any how, the black-hearted villin!” + </p> + <p> + It was even so; and the circumstances accounting for it are very simple. + Flanagan, having mounted one of the horses, made the best of his way from + what he apprehended was likely to become a scene of deadly strife. Such + was the nature of the road, however, that anything like a rapid pace was + out of the question. When he had got over about half the boreen he was + accosted in the significant terms of the Ribbon password of that day. + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow!” + </p> + <p> + “Good morrow mornin' to you!” + </p> + <p> + “Arrah what Age may you be, neighbor?” + </p> + <p> + Now the correct words were, “What Age are we in?” (* This order or throng + of the Ages is taken from Pastorini) but they were often slightly changed, + sometimes through ignorance and sometimes from design, as in the latter + case less liable to remark when addressed to persons not <i>up</i>. + </p> + <p> + “In the end of the Fifth,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “An' if you wor shakin' hands wid a friend, how would you do it? Or stay—all's + right so far—but give us a grip of your cham ahas (right hand).” + </p> + <p> + Flanagan, who apprehended pursuit, was too cautious to trust himself + within reach of any one coming from the direction in which the Bodagh + lived. He made no reply, therefore, to this, but urged his horse forward, + and attempted to get clear of his catechist. + </p> + <p> + “Dhar Dhegh! it's Flanagan,” said a voice which was that of Alick Nulty; + and the next moment the equestrian was stretched in the mud, by a heavy + blow from the but of a carbine. Nearly a score of men were immediately + about him; for the party he met on his return were the Bodagh's son, his + servants, and such of the cottiers as lived near enough to be called up to + the rescue. On finding himself secured, he lost all presence of mind, and + almost all consciousness of his situation. + </p> + <p> + “I'm gone,” said he; “I'm a lost man; all Europe can't save my life. Don't + kill me, boys; don't kill me; I'll go wid yez quietly—only, if I am + to die, let me die by the laws of the land.” + </p> + <p> + “The laws of the land?” said John O'Brien; “oh, little, Bartle Flanagan, + you respected them. You needn' be alarmed now—you are safe here—to + the laws of the land we will leave you; and by them you must stand or + fall.” + </p> + <p> + Bartle Flanagan, we need scarcely say, was well guarded until a posse of + constables should arrive to take him into custody. But, in the mean time, + a large and increasing party sat up in the house of the worthy Bodagh; for + the neighbors had been alarmed, and came flocking to his aid. 'Tis true, + the danger was now over; but the kind Bodagh, thankful in his heart to the + Almighty for the escape of his daughter, would not let them go without + first partaking of his hospitality. His wife, too, for the same reason, + was in a flutter of delight; and as her heart was as Irish as her + husband's, and consequently as hospitable, so did she stir about, and + work, and order right and left until abundant refreshments were smoking on + the table. Nor was the gentle and melancholy Una herself, now that the + snake was at all events scotched, averse to show herself among them—for + so they would have it. Biddy Nulty had washed her face; and, + notwithstanding the poultice of stirabout which her mistress with her own + hands applied to her wound, she really was the most interesting person + present, in consequence of her heroism during the recent outrage. After a + glass of punch had gone round, she waxed inveterately eloquent, indeed, so + much so that the mourner, the colleen dhas dhun, herself was more than + once forced to smile, and in some instances fairly to laugh at the odd + grotesque spirit of her descriptions. + </p> + <p> + “The rascal was quick!” said the Bodagh, “but upon my credit, Biddy, you + wor a pop afore him for all that. Divil a thing I, or John, or the others, + could do wid only one gun an' a case o' pistols against so many—still + we would have fought life or death for poor Una anyhow. But Biddy, here, + good girl, by her cleverness and invention saved us the danger, an' maybe + was the manes of savin' some of our lives or theirs. God knows I'd have no + relish to be shot myself,” said the pacific Bodagh, “nor would I ever have + a day or night's pace if I had the blood of a fellow-crathur on my sowl—upon + my sowl I wouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “But, blood alive, masther, what could I 'a' done only for Ned M'Cormick, + that gave us the hard word?” said Biddy, anxious to transfer the merit of + the transaction to her lover. + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, Bid,” replied the Bodagh, “maybe neither Ned nor yourself + will be a loser by it. If you're bent on layin' your heads together we'll + find you a weddin' present, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “Bedad, sir, I'm puzzled to know how they got in so aisy,” said Ned. + </p> + <p> + “That matter remains to be cleared up yet,” said John. “There is certainly + treachery in the camp somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “I am cock sure the hall—door was not latched,” said Duffy; “for + they had neither stop nor stay at it.” + </p> + <p> + “There is a villing among us sartainly,” observed Mrs. O'Brien; “for as + heaving is above me, I locked it wid my own two hands this blessed night.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought it might be wid the kay, Bridget,” said the Bodagh, laughing at + his own easy joke; “for you see, doors is ginerally locked wid kays—ha! + ha! ha!” + </p> + <p> + “Faix, but had Oona been tuck away tonight wid that vag o' the world, it's + not laughin' you'd be.” + </p> + <p> + “God, He sees, that's only thruth, too, Bridget,” he replied; “but still + there's some rogue about the place that opened the door for the villins.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Dar ma chuirp</i>, I'll hould goold I put the saddle on the right + horse in no time,” said Biddy. “Misthress, will you call Kitty Lowry, + ma'am, i' you plase? Ill do everything above boord; no behind backs for + me; blazes to the one alive hates foul play more nor I do.” + </p> + <p> + We ought to have observed that one of Biddy's peculiarities was a more + than usual readiness at letting fly, and not unfrequently at giving an + oath; and as her character presented a strange compound of simplicity and + cleverness, honesty and adroitness, her master and mistress, and + fellow-servants, were frequently amused by this unfeminine propensity. For + instance, if Una happened to ask her, “Biddy, did you iron the linen?” her + usual reply was, “No, blast the iron, miss, I hadn't time.” Of course the + family did everything in their power to discourage such a practice; but on + this point they found it impossible to reform her. Kitty Lowry's + countenance, when she appeared, certainly presented strong indications of + guilt; but still there was a hardness of outline about it which gave + promise at the same time of the most intrepid assurance. Biddy, on the. + other hand, was brimful of consequence, and a sense of authority, on + finding that the judicial power was on this occasion entrusted chiefly to + her hands. She rose up when Kitty entered, and stuck a pair of red + formidable fists with great energy into her sides. + </p> + <p> + “Pray ma'am,” said she, “what's the raisin' you refused to let me in + to-night, afther gettin' away wid my life from that netarnal blackguard, + Bartle Flanagan—what's the raisin I say, ma'am, that you kep' me out + afther you knewn who was in it?” + </p> + <p> + There was here visible a slight vibration of the head, rather gentle at + the beginning, but clearly prophetic of ultimate energy, and an + unequivocal determination to enforce whatever she might say with suitable + action even in its widest sense. + </p> + <p> + “An' pray, ma'am,” said the other, for however paradoxical it may appear, + it is an established case that in all such displays between women, + politeness usually keeps pace with scurrility; “An' pray, ma'am,” replied + Kitty, “is it to the likes o' you we're to say our catechize?” + </p> + <p> + Biddy was resolved not to be outdone in politeness, and replied— + </p> + <p> + “Af you plaise, ma'am,” with a courtesy. + </p> + <p> + “Lord protect us! what will we hear next, I wondher? Well, ma'am?” Here + her antagonist stood, evidently waiting for the onset. + </p> + <p> + “You'll hear more than'll go down your back pleasant afore I've done wid + you, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be makin' us long for it in the mane time, Miss Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + “You didn't answer my question, Miss Kitty. Why did you refuse to let me + in tonight?” + </p> + <p> + “For good raisons—bekase I—hard you cologgin' an' whisperin' + wid a pack of fellows without.” + </p> + <p> + “An' have you the brass to say so, knowin' that it's false an' a lie into + the bargain?” (Head energetically shaken.) + </p> + <p> + “Have I the brass, is it? I keep my brass in my pocket, ma'am, not in my + face, like some of our friends.” (Head shaken in reply to the action + displayed by Kitty.) + </p> + <p> + This was a sharp retort; but it was very well returned. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am,” replied Biddy, “if it's faces you're spakin' about, I + know you're able to outface me any day; but whatever's in my face there's + no desate in my heart, Miss Lowry. Put that in your pocket.” (One + triumphant shake of the head at the conclusion.) + </p> + <p> + “There's as much in your heart as'll shame your face, yet, Miss Nulty. Put + that in yours.” (Another triumphant shake of the head.) + </p> + <p> + “Thank God,” retorted Biddy, “none o' my friends ever knewn what a shamed + face is. I say, madam, none o' <i>my</i> family iver wore a shamed face. + <i>Thiguthu shin?</i>” (Do you understand that? ) + </p> + <p> + This, indeed, was a bitter hit; for the reader must know that a sister of + Lowry's had not passed through the world without the breath of slander + tarnishing her fair fame. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it's well known your tongue's no slander, Biddy.” + </p> + <p> + “Thin that's more than can be said of yours, Kitty.” + </p> + <p> + “If my sisther met with a misfortune, it was many a betther woman's case + than ever you'll be. Don't shout till you get out of the wood, ma'am. You + dunna what's afore yourself. Any how, it's not be lettin' fellows into the + masther's kitchen whiff the family's in bed, an' dhrinkin' whiskey wid + them, that'll get you through the world wid your character safe. * * * An' + you're nothin' but a barge, or you'd not dhraw down my sisther's name that + never did you an ill turn, whatever she did to herself, poor girl!” + </p> + <p> + “An' do you dar' for to call me a barge? * * * * Blast your insurance! be + this an' be that, for a farden I'd malivogue the devil out o' you.” + </p> + <p> + “We're not puttin' it past you, madam, you're blaggard enough to fight + like a man; but we're not goin' to make a blaggard an' a bully of + ourselves, in the mane time.” + </p> + <p> + [The conversation, of which we are giving a very imperfect report, was + garnished by both ladies with sundry vituperative epithets, which it would + be inconsistent with the dignity of our history to record.] + </p> + <p> + “That's bekase you haven't the blood of a hen in you * * * sure we know + what you are! But howld! be me sowl, you're doin' me for all that. Ah, ha! + I see where you're ladin' me; but it won't do, Miss Kitty Lowry. I'll + bring you back to the catechize agin. You'd light the straw to get away in + the smoke; but you're worth two gone people yet, dhough.” + </p> + <p> + “Worth half a dozen o' you, any day.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as we're both to the fore, we'll soon see that. How did you know, + my lady, that the masther's hall door was left open to-night? Answer me + that, on the nail!” + </p> + <p> + This was what might be very properly called a knock-down blow; for if the + reader but reflects a moment he will see that Kitty, on taxing her + antagonist, after her rescue, with leaving it open, directly betrayed + herself, as there was and could have been no one in the house cognizant of + the fact at the time unless the guilty person. With this latter exception, + Alick Nulty was the, only individual aware of it, and from whom the + knowledge of it could come. Kitty, therefore, by her over-anxiety to + exculpate herself from a charge which had not been made, became the + unconscious instrument I of disclosing the fact of her having left the + door open. + </p> + <p> + This trying query, coming upon her unexpectedly as it did, threw her into + palpable confusion. Her face became at once suffused with a deep scarlet + hue, occasioned by mingled shame and resentment, as was at once evident + from the malignant and fiery glare which she turned upon her querist. + </p> + <p> + “Get out,” she replied; “do you think I'd think it worth my while to + answer the likes o' you? I'd see you farther than I could look first. You, + indeed! faugh! musha bad luck to your impidence!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, i' you plaise, ma'am,” said Biddy, dropping a courtesy, that might + well be termed the very pink of politeness—“we hope you'll show + yourself a betther Christin than to be ignorant o' your catechize. So. + ma'am, if it 'ud be plaisin' to you afore the company maybe you'd answer + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who made you my misthress, you blaggard flipe? who gave you authority to + ax me sich a question?” replied the other. “A fellow-servant like myself! + to the devil I pitch you. You, indeed! Faix, it's well come up wid the + likes o' you to ballyrag over me.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but ma'am dear, will you answer—that is, i' you plaise, for + sure we can't forget our manners, you know—will you jist answer what + I axed you? Oh, be me cowl, your face condimns you, my lady!” said Biddy, + abruptly changing her tone; “it does, you yolla Mullatty, it does. You + bethrayed the masther's house, an' Miss Oona, too, you villin o' blazes! + If you could see your face now—your guilty face!” + </p> + <p> + The spirit of her antagonist, being that of a woman, could bear no more. + The last words were scarcely uttered, when Lowry made a spring like a + tigress at her opponent, who, however, received this onset with a skill + and intrepidity worthy of Penthesilea herself. They were immediately + separated, but not until they had twisted and twined about one another two + or three times, after which, each displayed, by way of a trophy, a copious + handful of hair that had changed proprietor-ship during their brief but + energetic conflict. + </p> + <p> + In addition to this, there were visible on Kitty's face five small streams + of liquid gore, which, no doubt, would have been found to correspond with + the red expanded talons of her antagonist. + </p> + <p> + John O'Brien then put the question seriously to Lowry, who, now that her + blood was up, or probably feeling that she had betrayed herself, declined + to answer it at all. + </p> + <p> + “I'll answer nothin' I don't like,” she replied, “an' I'll not be + ballyraged by any one—not even by you, Misther John; an' what's + more, I'll lave the sarvice at the shriek o' day to-morrow. I wouldn't + live in the house wid that one; my life 'udn't be safe undher the wan roof + wid her.” + </p> + <p> + “Thin you'll get no carrecther from any one here,” said Mrs. O'Brien; + “for, indeed, any way, there was never a minute's peace in the kitchen + since you came into it.” + </p> + <p> + “Divil cares,” she replied, with a toss of her head; “if I don't, I must + only live widout it, and will, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + She then flounced out of the room, and kept grumbling in an insolent tone + of voice, until she got to her bed. Alick Nulty then detailed all the + circumstances he had witnessed, by which it appeared unquestionable that + Kitty Lowry had been aware of Flanagan's design, and was consequently one + of his accomplices. This in one sense was true, whilst in another and the + worst they did her injustice. It is true that Bartle Flanagan pretended + affection for her, and contrived on many occasions within the preceding + five months, that several secret meetings should take place between them, + and almost always upon a Sunday, which was the only day she had any + opportunity of seeing him. He had no notion, however, of entrusting her + with his secret. In fact, no man could possibly lay his plans with deeper + design or more ingenious precaution for his own safety than Flanagan. + Having gained a promise from the credulous girl to elope with him on the + night in question, he easily induced her to leave the hall door open. His + exploit, however, having turned out so different in its issue from that + which Kitty expected, she felt both chagrined and confounded, and knew not + at first whether to ascribe the abduction of Biddy Nulty to mistake or + design; for, indeed, she was not ignorant of Flanagan's treacherous + conduct to the sex—no female having ever repulsed him, whose + character he did not injure whenever he could do so with safety. Biddy's + return, however, satisfied her that Bartle must have made a blunder of + some kind, or he would not have taken away her fellow-servant instead of + herself; and it was the bitterness which weak minds always feel when their + own wishes happen to be disappointed, that prompted her resentment against + poor Biddy, who was unconsciously its object. Flanagan's primary intention + was still, however, in some degree, effected, so far as it regarded the + abduction. The short space of an hour gave him time to cool and collect + himself sufficiently to form the best mode of action under the + circumstances. He resolved, therefore, to plead mistake, and to produce + Kitty Lowry to prove that his visit that night to the Bodagh's house was + merely to fulfil their mutual promise of eloping together. + </p> + <p> + But there was the robbery staring him in the face; and how was he to + manage that? This, indeed, was the point on which the accomplished villain + felt by the sinking of his heart that he had overshot his mark. When he + looked closely into it, his whole frame became cold and feeble from + despair, the hard paleness of mental suffering settled upon his face, and + his brain was stunned by a stupor which almost destroyed the power of + thinking. + </p> + <p> + All this, however, availed him not. Before twelve o'clock the next day + informations had been sworn against him, and at the hour of three he found + himself in the very room which had been assigned to Connor O'Donovan, + sinking under the double charge of abduction and robbery. + </p> + <p> + And now once more did the mutability of public feeling and opinion as + usual become apparent. No sooner had fame spread abroad the report of + Flanagan's two-fold crime, and his imprisonment, than those very people + who had only a day or two before inferred that Connor O'Donovan was + guilty, because his accuser's conduct continued correct and blameless, now + changed their tone, and insisted that the hand of God was visible in + Flanagan's punishment. Again were all the dark traits of his character + dragged forward and exposed; and this man reminded that man, as that man + did some other man, that he had said more than once that Bartle Flanagan + would be hanged for swearing away an innocent young man's life. Such, + however, without reference to truth or justice, is public opinion among a + great body of the people, who are swayed by their feelings only, instead + of their judgment. The lower public will, as a matter of course, feel at + random upon everything, and like a fortuneteller, it will for that reason, + and for that only, sometimes be found on the right side. From the time + which elapsed between the period of Bartle's imprisonment and that of his + trial, many strange circumstances occurred in connection with it, of which + the public at large were completely ignorant. Bartle was now at the mercy + of a man who had been long looked upon with a spirit of detestation and + vengeance by those illegal confederations with which he had uniformly + declined to associate himself. Flanagan's party, therefore, had now only + two methods of serving him, one was intimidation, and the other a general + subscription among the various lodges of the district, to raise funds for + his defence. To both of these means they were resolved to have recourse. + </p> + <p> + Many private meetings they held among themselves upon those important + matters, at which Dandy Duff and Ned M'Cormick attended, as was their + duty; and well was it for them the part they took in defeating Bartle + Flanagan, and serving the Bodagh and his family, was unknown to their + confederates. To detail the proceedings of their meetings, and recount the + savage and vindictive ferocity of such men, would be pacing the taste and + humanity of our readers a bad compliment. It is enough to say that a fund + was raised for Flanagan's defence, and a threatening notice written to be + pasted on the Bodagh Buie's door—of which elegant production the + following is a literal copy:— + </p> + <p> + “Buddha Bee—You 'ave wan iv our boys in for abjection an' rubbry—an' + it seems is resolved to parsequte the poor boy at the nuxt 'Shizers—now + dhis is be way av a dalikit hint to yew an' yoos that aff butt wan spudh + av his blud is spiled in quensequence av yewr parsequtin' im as the + winther's comin' on an' the wether gettin' cowld an' the long nights + settin' in yew may as well prapare yewr caughin an' not that same remimber + you've a praty dother an may no more about her afore you much shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Simon Pettier Staeught.” + </p> + <p> + This and several others of the same class were served upon the Bodagh, + with the intention of intimidating him from the prosecution of Flanagan. + They had, however, quite mistaken their man. The Bodagh, though peaceable + and placable, had not one atom of the coward in his whole composition. On + the contrary, he was not only resolute in resisting what he conceived to + be oppressive or unjust, but he was also immovably obstinate in anything + wherein he fancied he had right on his side. And even had his disposition + been inclined to timidity or pliancy, his son John would have used all his + influence to induce him to resist a system which is equally opposed to the + laws of God and of man, as well as to the temporal happiness of those who + are slaves to the terrible power which, like a familiar devil, it + exercises over its victims under the hollow promise of protection. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART8" id="link2H_PART8"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART VIII. AND LAST. + </h2> + <p> + As the Bodagh and his son took the usual legal steps to forward the + prosecution, it was but natural that they should calculate upon the + evidence of Dandy Duffy, Ned M'Cormick, and Alick Nulty. John O'Brien + accordingly informed them, on the very night of the outrage, that his + father and himself would consider them as strong evidence against Bartle + Flanagan, and call upon them as such. This information placed these young + men in a position of incredible difficulty and danger. They knew not + exactly at that moment how to proceed consistently with the duty which + they owed to society at large, and that which was expected from them by + the dark combination to which they were united. M'Cormick, however, begged + of John O'Brien not to mention their names until the day after the next, + and told him if he could understand their reason for this request, he + would not hesitate to comply with it. + </p> + <p> + O'Brien, who suspected the true cause of their reluctance, did not on this + occasion press them further, but consented to their wishes, and promised, + not to mention their names, even as indirectly connected with the outrage, + until the time they had specified had elapsed. + </p> + <p> + In the course of the following day Nogher M'Cormick presented himself to + the Bodagh and his son, neither of whom felt much difficulty in divining + the cause of his visit. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Nogher, after the first usual civilities had passed, “glory + be to God, gintlemen, this is desperate fine weather for the season—barrin' + the wet” + </p> + <p> + John smiled, but the plain matter-of-fact Bodagh replied, + </p> + <p> + “Why, how the devil can you call this good weather, neighbor, when it's + raining for the last week, night and day?” + </p> + <p> + “I do call it good weather for all that,” returned Nogher, “for you ought + to know that every weather's good that God sends.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the Bodagh, taken aback a little by the Nogher's piety, + “there's truth in that, too, neighbor.” + </p> + <p> + “I am right,” said Nogher, “an' it's nothin' else than a sinful world to + say that this is bad weather, or that's bad weather—bekase the + Scriptur says, 'wo be to thee——'” + </p> + <p> + “But, pray,” interrupted John, “what's your business with my father and + me?” + </p> + <p> + Nogher rubbed down his chin very gravely and significantly, + </p> + <p> + “Why,” said he, “somethin' for your own good, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what is that?” said John, anxious to bring him to the point as soon + as possible. + </p> + <p> + “The truth, gentlemen, is this—I'm an ould man, an' I hope that I + never was found to be anything else than an honest one. They're far away + this day that could give me a good carrechtur—two o' them anyhow + I'll never forget—Connor an' his mother; but I'll never see them + agin; an' the ould man too, I never could hate him, in regard of the love + he bore his son. Long, long was the journey he tuck to see that son, an', + as he tould me the day he whint into the ship, to die in his boy's arms; + for he said heaven wouldn't be heaven to him, if he died anywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + Nogher's eyes filled as he spoke, and we need scarcely say that neither + the Bodagh nor his son esteemed him the less for his attachment to Connor + O'Donovan and his family. + </p> + <p> + “The sooner I end the business I come about to-day,” said he, “the better. + You want my son Ned, Dandy Duffy, an' Alick Nulty, to join in givin' + evidence against blaggard Bartle Flanagan. Now the truth is, gintlemen, + you don't know the state o' the country. If they come into a court of + justice against him, their lives won't be worth a traneen. Its aginst + their oath, I'm tould, as Ribbonmen, to prosecute one another; an' from + hints I resaved, I'm afraid they can't do it, as I said, barrin' at the + risk o' their lives.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said John, “as far as I have heard, he speaks nothing but + truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe he does not,” rejoined the Bodagh, “an', by my sowl, I'll be + bound he's an honest man—upon my credit, I think you are, + M'Cormick.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm thankful to you, sir,” said Nogher. + </p> + <p> + “I'm inclined to think further,” said John, “that we have proof enough + against Flanagan without them.” + </p> + <p> + “Thin, if you think so, John, God forbid that we'd be the manes of + bringin' the young men into throuble. All I'm sorry for is, that they + allowed themselves to be hooked into sich a dark and murdherous piece of + villainy.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, sir, it's a bad business,” said Nogher, “but it can't be helped + now; no man's safe that won't join it.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith, and I won't for one,” replied the Bodagh, “not but that they sent + many a threat to me. Anything against the laws o' the counthry is bad, and + never ends but in harm to them that's consamed in it.” + </p> + <p> + “M'Cormick,” added the son, “villain as Flanagan is, we shall let him once + more loose upon society, sooner than bring the lives of your son, and the + two other young men into jeopardy. Such, unhappily, is the state of the + country, and we must submit to it.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, sir,” said Nogher. “The truth is, they're sworn, it seems, + not to prosecute one another, let whatever may happen; an' any one of them + that breaks that oath—God knows I wish they'd think of others as + much as they do of it—barrin' a stag that's taken up, an' kep safe + by the Government, is sure to be knocked on the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, M'Cormick,” said the Bodagh's inestimable son, “say no more. + No matter how this may terminate, we shall not call upon them as + evidences. It must be so, father,” he added, “and God help the country in + which the law is a dead letter, and the passions and bigoted prejudices of + disaffected or seditious men the active principle which impresses its + vindictive horrors upon society! Although not myself connected with them, + I know their oath, and—but I say no more. M'Cormick, your friends + are safe; we shall not, as I told you, call upon them, be the result what + it may; better that one guilty should escape, than that three innocent + persons should suffer.” + </p> + <p> + Nogher again thanked him, and having taken up his hat, was about to + retire, when he paused a moment, and, after some consideration with + himself, said— + </p> + <p> + “You're a scholar, sir, an'—but maybe I'm sayin' what I oughtn't to + say—but sure, God knows, it's all very well known long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, M'Cormick?” asked John; “speak out plainly; we will not feel + offended.” + </p> + <p> + “'Twas only this, sir,” continued Nogher, “I'm an unlarned man; but he + would write to you may be—I mane Connor—an' if he did, I'd be + glad to hear—but I hope I don't offind you, sir. You wouldn't think + of me, may be, although many and many's the time I nursed him on these + knees, an' carried him about in these arms, an he cried—ay, as God + is my judge, he cried bitterly—when, as he said, at the time—'Nogher, + Nogher, my affectionate friend, I'll never see you more.'” + </p> + <p> + John O'Brien shook him cordially by the hand, and replied—“I will + make it a point to let you know anything that our family may hear from + him.” + </p> + <p> + “An' if you write to him, sir, just in a single line, to say that the + affectionate ould friend never forgot him.” + </p> + <p> + “That, too, shall be done,” replied John; “you may rest assured of it.” + </p> + <p> + The Bodagh, whose notions in matters of delicacy and feeling were rough + but honest, now rang the bell with an uncommon, nay, an angry degree of + violence. + </p> + <p> + “Get up some spirits here, an' don't be asleep. You must take a glass of + whiskey before you go,” he said, addressing Nogher. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied Nogher, “I'm in a hurry home, for I'm <i>aff</i> my day's + work.” + </p> + <p> + “By —-, but you must,” rejoined the + </p> + <p> + Bodagh; “and what's your day's wages?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten pence.” + </p> + <p> + “There's half-a-crown; an' I tell you more, you must come an' take a <i>cot—tack</i> + undher me, and you'll find the change for the betther, never fear.” + </p> + <p> + In point of fact in was so concluded, and Nogher left the Bodagh's house + with a heart thankful to Providence that he had ever entered it. + </p> + <p> + The day of Flanagan's trial, however, now approached, and our readers are + fully aware of the many chances of escaping justice which the state of the + country opened to him, notwithstanding his most atrocious villainy. As + some one, however, says in a play—in that of Othello, we believe—“God + is above all,” so might Flanagan have said on this occasion. The evidence + of Biddy Nulty, some of the other servants, and the Bodagh, who identified + some of the notes, was quite sufficient against him, with respect to the + robbery. Nor was any evidence adduced of more circumstantial weight than + Kitty Lowry's, who, on being satisfied of Flanagan's designs against Una, + and that she was consequently no more than his dupe, openly acknowledged + the part she had taken in the occurrences of the night on which the + outrages were committed. This confession agreed so well with Bartle's + character for caution and skill in everything he undertook, that his + object in persuading her to leave the hall door open was not only clear, + but perfectly consistent with the other parts of his plan. It was a + capital crime; and when fame once more had proclaimed abroad that Bartle + Flanagan was condemned to be hanged for robbing Bodagh Buie, they insisted + still more strongly that the sentence was an undeniable instance of + retributive justice. Striking, indeed, was the difference between his + deportment during the trial, and the manly fortitude of Connor O'Donovan, + when standing under as heavy a charge at the same bar. The moment he + entered the dock, it was observed that his face expressed all the + pusillanimous symptoms of the most unmanly terror. His brows fell, or + rather hung over his eyes, as if all their muscular power had been lost—giving + to his countenance not only the vague sullenness of irresolute ferocity, + but also, as was legible in his dead small eye, the cold calculations of + deep and cautious treachery; nor was his white, haggard cheek a less + equivocal assurance of his consummate cowardice. Many eyes were now turned + upon him; for we need scarcely say that his part of a case which created + so much romantic interest as the conviction of Connor O'Donovan, and the + history it developed of the mutual affection which subsisted between him + and Una, was by no means forgotten. And even if it had, his present + appearance and position would, by the force of ordinary association, have + revived it in the minds of any then present. + </p> + <p> + Deprived of all moral firmness, as he appeared to be, on entering the + dock, yet, as the trial advanced, it was evident that his heart and + spirits were sinking still more and more, until at length his face, in + consequence of its ghastliness, and the involuntary hanging of his + eyebrows, indicated scarcely any other expression than that of utter + helplessness, or the feeble agony of a mind so miserably prostrated, as to + be hardly conscious of the circumstances around him. This was clearly + obvious when the verdict of “guilty” was uttered in the dead silence which + prevailed through the court. No sooner were the words pronounced than he + looked about him wildly, and exclaimed— + </p> + <p> + “What's that? what's that? Oh, God—; sweet Jasus! sweet Jasus!” + </p> + <p> + His lips then moved for a little, and he was observed to mark his breast + prvately with the sign of the cross; but in such a manner as to prove that + the act was dictated by the unsettled incoherency of terror, and not by + the promptings of piety or religion. + </p> + <p> + The judge now put on the black cap, and! was about to pronounce the fatal + sentence, when the prisoner shrieked out, “Oh, my Lord—my Lord, + spare me! Oh, spare me, for I'm not fit to die. I daren't meet God!” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” exclaimed the judge, “unhappy man, it is too often true, that + those who are least prepared to meet their Almighty Judge, are also the + least reckless in the perpetration of those crimes which are certain, ere + long, to hurry them into His presence. You find now, that whether as + regards this life or the next, he who observes the laws of his religion + and his country, is the only man who can be considered, in the true sense + of the word, his own friend; and there is this advantage in his conduct, + that, whilst he is the best friend to himself, it necessarily follows that + he must be a benefactor in the same degree to society at large. To such a + man the laws are a security, and not, as in your case, and in that of + those who resemble you, a punishment. It is the wicked only who hate the + laws, because they are conscious of having provoked their justice. In + asking me to spare your life, you are aware that you ask me for that which + I cannot grant. There is nothing at all in your case to entitle you to + mercy; and if, by the life you have led, you feel that you are unfit to + die, it is clear upon your own principles, and by the use you have made of + life, that you are unfit to live.” + </p> + <p> + He then proceeded to exhort him, in the usual terms, to sue for + reconciliation with an offended God, through the merits and sufferings of + Christ. After which he sentenced him to be executed on the fifth day from + the close of the assizes. On hearing the last words of the judge, he + clutched the dock at which he stood with a convulsive effort; his hands + and arms, however, became the next moment relaxed, and he sank down in a + state of helpless insensibility. On reviving he found himself in his cell, + attended by two of the turnkeys, who felt now more alarmed at his screams + and the horror which was painted on his face, than by the fainting fit + from which he had just recovered. It is not our design to dwell at much + length upon the last minutes of such a man; but we will state briefly, + that, as might be expected, he left nothing unattempted to save his own + life. On the day after his trial, he sent for the sheriff, and told him, + that, provided his life were granted by the government, he could make many + important disclosures, and give very valuable information concerning the + state and prospects of Ribbonism in the country, together with a long list + of the persons who were attached to it in that parish. The sheriff told + him that this information, which might under other circumstances have been + deemed of much value by the government, had already been anticipated by + another man during the very short period that had elapsed since his + conviction. There was nothing which he could now disclose, the sheriff + added, that he himself was not already in possession of, even to the rank + which he, Flanagan, was invested with among them, and the very place where + he and they had held their last meeting. But, independently of that, he + proceeded, it is not usual for: government to pardon the principals in any + such outrage as that for which you have been convicted. I shall, however, + transmit your proposal to the Secretary, who may act in the matter as he + thinks proper. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime his relatives and confederates were not idle outside, each + party having already transmitted a petition to the Castle in his behalf. + That of his relations contained only the usual melancholy sentiments, and + earnest entreaties for mercy, which are to be found in such documents. The + memorial, however, of his confederates was equally remarkable for its + perverted ingenuity, and those unlucky falsehoods which are generally + certain to defeat the objects of those who have recourse to them. + </p> + <p> + It went to say that the petitioners feared very much that the country was + in a dangerous state, in consequence of the progressive march of Ribbonism + in parts of that parish, and in many of the surrounding districts. That + the unhappy prisoner had for some time past made himself peculiarly + obnoxious to this illegal class of persons; and that he was known in the + country as what is termed “a marked man,” ever since he had the courage to + prosecute, about two years ago, one of their most notorious leaders, by + name Connor O'Donovan, of Lisnamona; who was, at the period of writing + that memorial, a convict during life in New South Wales, for a capital + White-boy offence. + </p> + <p> + That said Connor O'Donovan, having seduced the affections of a young woman + named Una O'Brien, daughter of a man called Michael O'Brien, otherwise + Bodagh Buie, or the Yellow Churl, demanded her in marriage from her father + and family, who unanimously rejected his pretensions. Upon which, + instigated by the example and practice of the dark combination of which he + was so distinguished a leader, he persuaded memorialist, partly by + entreaties, but principally by awful and mysterious threats, to join him + in the commission of this most atrocious crime. That, from the moment he + had been forced into the participation of such an act, his conscience + could not permit him to rest night or day; and he consequently came + forward boldly and fearlessly, and did what he considered his duty to God + and his country. + </p> + <p> + That, in consequence of this conscientious act, O'Donovan, the Ribbon + ringleader, was capitally convicted; but through the interest of some + leading gentlemen of the parish, who were ignorant of his habits and + connections, the sentence was, by the mercy of government, commuted to + transportation for life. + </p> + <p> + That, upon his banishment from the country, the girl whose affections he + had seduced, became deranged for some time; but, after her recovery, + expressed, on many occasions, the most bitter determinations to revenge + upon petitioner the banishment of her lover; and that the principal + evidence upon which petitioner was convicted, was hers * and that of a + girl named Bridget Kulty, formerly a servant in his father's house, and + known to have been his paramour. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * This was a falsehood, inasmuch as Una, having been + concealed in another room, could give, and did give, no + evidence that any way affected his life. +</pre> + <p> + That this girl, Bridget Nulty, was taken into O'Brien's family at the + suggestion of his daughter Una; and that, from motives of personal hatred, + she and Bridget Nulty, aided by another female servant of O'Brien's named + Kitty Lowry, formed the conspiracy of which petitioner is unhappily the + victim. + </p> + <p> + It then proceeded to detail how the conspiracy of Una O'Brien and the two + females she had taken in as accomplices, was carried into effect; all of + which was done with singular tact and ingenuity; every circumstance being + made to bear a character and design diametrically opposed to truth. It + concluded by stating that great exultation had been manifested by the + Ribbonmen of that parish, who, on the night of petitioner's conviction, + lit bonfires in several parts of the neighborhood, fired shots, sounded + horns, and displayed other symptoms of great rejoicing; and hoped his + excellency would, therefore, interpose his high prerogative, and prevent + petitioner from falling a sacrifice to a conspiracy on one hand, and the + resentment of a traitorous confederacy on the other; and all this only for + having conscientiously and firmly served the government of the country. + </p> + <p> + Our readers need not be surprised at the ingenuity of this plausible + petition, for the truth is that before government supported any system of + education at all in Ireland, the old hedge school-masters were, almost to + a man, office-bearers and leaders in this detestable system. Such men, and + those who were designed for the priesthood, with here and there an + occasional poor scholar, were' uniformly the petition writers, and, + indeed, the general scribes of the little world in which they lived. In + fact, we have abundance of public evidence to satisfy us, that persons of + considerable literasy attainments have been connected with Ribbonism in + all its stages. + </p> + <p> + This fine writing, however, was unfortunately counteracted, in consequence + of the information already laid before the sheriff by no less a personage + than Rouser Redhead, who, fearing alike the treachery and enmity of his + leader, resolved thus to neutralize any disclosures he should happen to + make. But lest this might not have been sufficient to exhibit the + character of that document, the proposal of Bartle himself to make + disclosures was transmitted to the Secretary of State, by the same post; + so that both reached that gentleman, <i>pari passu</i>, to his no small + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + Had Flanagan's confederates consulted him, he would of course have + dissuaded them from sending any petition at all, or at least, only such as + he could approve of, but such is the hollowness of this bond, and so + little confidence is placed in its obligation, that when any of its + victims happen to find themselves in a predicament similar to Flanagan's, + his companions without lead such a life of terror, and suspicion, and + doubt, as it would be difficult to describe. But when, as in Bartle's + case, there exists a strong distrust in his firmness and honesty, scarcely + one can be found hardy enough—to hold any communication with him. + This easily and truly accounts for the fact of their having got this + petition written and sent to government in his name. The consequence was, + that, on the day previous to that named for his execution, his death + warrant reached the sheriff, who lost no time in apprising him of his + unhappy fate. + </p> + <p> + This was a trying task to that humane and amiable gentleman, who had + already heard of the unutterable tortures which the criminal suffered from + the horror of approaching death, and the dread of eternity; for neither by + penitence nor even by remorse, was he in the slightest degree moved. + </p> + <p> + “To die!” said he, staggering back; “to be in eternity to-morrow! to have + to face God before twelve o'clock! tarrible! tar—rible! tarrible! + Can no one save me? To die to—morrow!—tarrible!—tarrible!—tarrible! + Oh that I could sink into the earth! that the ground 'ud swlly me!” + </p> + <p> + The sheriff advised him to be a man, and told him to turn to God,—who, + if he repented, would in no wise cast him out. “Act,” said he, “as + O'Donovan did, whom you yourself prosecuted and placed in the very cell in + which you now stand.” + </p> + <p> + “Connor O'Donovan!” he exclaimed, “he might well bear to die; he was + innocent; it was I that burned Bodagh Buie's haggard; he had neither act + nor part in it no more than the child unborn. I swore away his life out of + revinge to his father an' jealousy of himself about Una O'Brien. Oh, if I + had as little to answer for now as he, I could die—die! Sweet Jasus, + an' must I die to-morrow—be in the flames o' hell afore twelve + o'clock? tarrible! terrible!” + </p> + <p> + It was absolutely, to use his own word, “terrible,” to witness the almost + superhuman energy of his weakness. On making this last disclosure to the + sheriff, the latter stepped back from a feeling of involuntary surprise + and aversion, exclaiming as he did it,— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, God forgive you, unhappy and guilty man! you have much, indeed, to + answer for; and, as I said before, I advise you to make the most of the + short time that is allotted to you, in repenting and seeking pardon from + God.” + </p> + <p> + The culprit heard him not, however, for his whole soul was fearfully + absorbed in the contemplation of eternity and punishment, and death. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said the turnkey, “that's the way he's runnin' about the room + almost since his thrial; not, to be sure, altogether so bad as now, but + clappin' his hands, an' scramm' an' groanin', that it's frightful to + listen to him. An' his dhrames, sir, is worse. God, sir, if you'd hear him + asleep, the hair would stand on your head; indeed, one of us is ordered to + be still with him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is right,” replied the sheriff, who, after recommending him to get a + clergyman, left him, and, with his usual promptness and decision, + immediately wrote to the Secretary of State, acquainting him with + Flanagan's confession of his own guilt, and of Connor O'Donovan's + innocence of the burning of O'Brien's haggard; hoping, at the same time, + that government would take instant steps to restore O'Donovan to his + country and his friends. + </p> + <p> + Soon after the sheriff left him, a Roman Catholic clergyman arrived, for + it appeared that against the priest who was chaplain of the jail he had + taken an insurmountable prejudice, in consequence of some fancied + resemblance he supposed him to bear to the miser's son. The former + gentleman spent that night with him, and, after a vast deal of exertion + and difficulty, got him so far composed, as that he attempted to confess + to him, which, however, he did only in a hurried and distracted manner. + </p> + <p> + But how shall we describe the scene, and we have it from more than one or + two witnesses, which presented itself, when the hour of his execution drew + nigh. His cries and shrieks were distinctly heard from a considerable + distance along the dense multitudes which were assembled to witness his + death; thus giving to that dreadful event a character of horror so deep + and gloomy, that many persons, finding themselves unable to bear it, + withdrew from the crowd, and actually fainted on hearing the almost + supernatural tones of his yells and howlings within. + </p> + <p> + In the mean time, the proceedings in the press-room were of a still more + terrific description He now resembled the stag at bay; his strength became + more than human. On attempting to tie his hands, five men were found + insufficient for the woeful task. He yelled, and flung them aside like + children, but made no attempt at escape, for, in truth, he knew not what + he did. The sheriff, one of the most powerful and athletic men to be found + in the province, was turned about and bent like an osier in his hands. His + words, when the fury of despair permitted his wild and broken cries to + become intelligible, were now for life—only life upon any terms; and + again did he howl out his horrors of death, hell, and judgment. Never was + such a scene, perhaps, witnessed. + </p> + <p> + At length his hands were tied, and they attempted to get him up to the + platform of death, but to their amazement he was once more loose, and, + flying to the priest, he clasped him with the gripe of Hercules. + </p> + <p> + “Save me, save me!” he shouted. “Let me live! I can't die! You're puttin' + me into hell's fire! How can I face God? No, it's tarrible! it's tarrible! + tarrible! Life, life, life—only life—oh, only life!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he pressed the reverend gentleman to his breast and kissed + him, and shouted with a wildness of entreaty, which far transcended in + terror the most outrageous paroxysms of insanity. + </p> + <p> + “I will not lave the priest,” shrieked he; “so long as I stay with him so + long I'll be out of the punishments of eternity. I will stick to you. + Don't—don't put me away, but have pity on me! No—I'll not go, + I'll not go!” + </p> + <p> + Again he kissed his lips, cheeks, and forehead, and still clung to him + with terrific violence, until at last his hands were finally secured + beyond the possibility of his again getting them loose. He then threw + himself upon the ground, and still resisted, with a degree of muscular + strength altogether unaccountable in a person, even of his compact and + rather athletic form. His appearance upon the platform will long be + remembered by those who had the questionable gratification of witnessing + it. It was the struggle of strong men dragging a strong man to the most + frightful of all precipices—Death. + </p> + <p> + <a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> + <!-- IMG --></a> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:80%"> + <img src="images/page311.jpg" + alt="Page 311-- Most Frightful of All Precipices--death " width="100%" /><br /> + </div> + <p> + When he was seen by the people in the act of being forced with such + violence to the drop, they all moved, like a forest agitated by a sudden + breeze, and uttered that strange murmur, composed of many passions, which + can only be heard where a large number of persons are congregated together + under the power of something that is deep and thrilling in its interest. + At length, after a struggle for life, and a horror of death possibly + unprecedented in the annals of crime, he was pushed upon the drop, the + spring was touched, and the unhappy man passed shrieking into that + eternity which he dreaded so much. His death was instantaneous, and, after + hanging the usual time, his body was removed to the goal; the crowd began + to disperse, and in twenty minutes the streets and people presented + nothing more than their ordinary aspect of indifference to everything but + their own affairs.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * We have only to say, that W—m O—k, Esq., of Jj—sb—e, + sheriff of the county of D—n. and those who officially + attended, about four years ago, the execution of a man named + M—y—, at the gaol of D—rip—k, for a most heinous murder, + will, should they happen to see this description, not + hesitate to declare that it falls far, far short of what + they themselves witnessed upon this terrible occasion. + There is nothing mentioned here which did not then occur, + but there is much omitted. +</pre> + <p> + Such, and so slight, after all, is the impression which death makes upon + life, when the heart and domestic affections are not concerned. + </p> + <p> + And now, gentle and patient reader—for well, indeed, has thy + patience been tried, during the progress of this tantalizing narrative—we + beg to assure thee, that unless thou art so exquisitely tender-hearted as + to mourn over the fate of Bartle Flanagan, the shadows which darkened the + morning and noon of our story have departed, and its eye will be dewy, and + calm, and effulgent. + </p> + <p> + Flanagan's execution, like any other just and necessary vindication of the + law, was not without its usual good effect upon the great body of the + people; for, although we are not advocates for a sanguinary statute-book, + neither are we the eulogists of those who, with sufficient power in their + hands, sit calmly and serenely amidst scenes of outrage and crime, in + which the innocent suffer by the impunity of the guilty. Fame, who is busy + on such occasions, soon published to a far distance Flanagan's confession + of having committed the crime for which O'Donovan was punished. John + O'Brien had it himself! from the sheriff's lips, as well as from a still + more authentic statement written by the priest who attended him, and + signed by the unhappy culprit's mark, in the presence of that gentleman, + the governor of the gaol, and two turnkeys. The sheriff now heard, from + O'Brien, for the first time, that O'Donovan's parents, having disposed of + all their property, followed him to New South Wales, a circumstance by + which he was so much struck at the moment, that he observed to O'Brien,— + </p> + <p> + “Do you not think it the duty of the Government, considering all the young + man and his parents have suffered by that rascal's malice, to bring the + whole family back at its own expense? For my part, aware as I am of the + excellent disposition of the Secretary, I think, if we ask them, it will + be done.” + </p> + <p> + “Our best plan, perhaps,” replied John, “is to get a memorial to that + effect signed by those who subscribed to the former one in his behalf. I + think it is certainly necessary, for, to tell you the truth, I doubt + whether they are in possession of funds sufficient for the expenses of so + long a journey.” + </p> + <p> + “I know,” said the sheriff, “that there is little time to be lost, for S——,” + naming the governor of the gaol, “tells me that the next convict ship + sails in a fortnight. We must, therefore, push forward the business as + rapidly as we can.” + </p> + <p> + Well and truly did they keep their words, for we have the satisfaction of + adding, that on the seventh day from the date of that conversation, they + received a communication from the Castle, informing them that, after + having taken the peculiar hardships of O'Donovan's singular case into + mature consideration, they deemed the prayer of the memorial such as they + felt pleasure in complying with; and that the Colonial Secretary had been + written to, to take the proper steps for the return of the young man and + his parents to their own country at the expense of the Government. + </p> + <p> + This was enough, and almost more than O'Brien expected. He had now done as + much as could be done for the present, and nothing remained but to await + their arrival with hope and patience. In truth, the prospect that now + presented itself to the Bodagh's family was one in which, for the sake of + the beloved Una, they felt a deep and overwhelming interest. Ever since + Connor's removal from the country her spirits had gradually become more + and more depressed. All her mirth and gayety had abandoned her; she + disrelished reading; she avoided company; she hardly ever laughed, but, on + the contrary, indulged in long fits of bitter grief while upon her + solitary rambles. Her chief companion was Biddy Nulty, whom she exempted + from her usual employment whenever she wished that Connor should be the + topic of their conversation. Many a time have they strolled together + through the garden, where Una had often stood, and, pointing to the summer—house, + where the acknowledgments of their affection were first exchanged, said to + her humble companion,— + </p> + <p> + “Biddy, that is the spot where he first told me that he loved me, and + where I first acknowledged mine to him.” + </p> + <p> + She would then pull out from her heart the locket which contained his rich + brown hair, and, after kissing it, sit and weep on the spot which was so + dear to her. + </p> + <p> + Biddy's task, then, was to recount to the unhappy girl such anecdotes as + she remembered of him; and, as these were all to his advantage, we need + scarcely say that many an entertainment of this kind she was called upon + to furnish to her whose melancholy enjoyment was now only the remembrance + of him, and what he had once been to her. + </p> + <p> + “I would have been in a convent long before now, Biddy,” said she, a few + days before Flanagan's trial, “but I cannot leave my father and mother, + because I know they could not live without me. My brother John has + declined Maynooth lest I should feel melancholy for want of some person to + amuse me and to cheer me; and now I feel that it would be an ungrateful + return I should make if I entered a convent and left my parents without a + daughter whom they love so well, and my brother without a sister on whom + he doats.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss,” replied Biddy, “don't be cast down; for my part I'd always + hope for the best. Who knows, Miss, but a betther lave may be turned up + for you yet? I'd hould a naggin' that God nivir intinded an innocent + creature like you to spind the rest of your life in sadness and sorrow, as + you're doin'. Always hope for the best.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Biddy,” she replied, “you don't know what you speak of. His sentence + is one that can never be changed; and as for hoping for the best how can I + do that, Biddy, when I know that I have no 'best' to hope for. He was my + best in this world; but he is gone. Now go in, Biddy, and leave me to + myself for a little. You know how I love to be alone.” + </p> + <p> + “May God in heaven pity you, Miss Oona,” exclaimed the poor girl, whilst + the tears gushed from her eyes, “as I do this day! Oh, keep up your heart, + Miss, darlin'! for where there's life there's hope.” + </p> + <p> + Little did she then dream, however, that hope would so soon restored to + her heart, or that the revolution of another year should see her waiting + with trembling delight for the fulness of her happiness. + </p> + <p> + On the evening previous to Bartle Flanagan's execution, she was pouring + out tea for her father and mother, as was usual, when her brother John + came home on his return from the assizes. Although the smile of affection + with which she always received him lit up her dark glossy eyes, yet he + observed that she appeared unusually depressed, and much more pale than + she had been for some time past. + </p> + <p> + “Una, are you unwell, dear?” he asked, as she handed him a cup of tea. + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with a kind of affectionate reproof in her eyes, as if + she wondered that he should be ignorant of the sorrow which preyed upon + her. + </p> + <p> + “Not in health, John,” she replied; “but that man's trial, and the many + remembrances it has stirred up in my mind, have disturbed me. I am very + much cast down, as you may see. Indeed, to speak the truth, and without + disguise, I think that my heart is broken. Every one knows that a breaking + heart is incurable.” + </p> + <p> + “You take it too much to yourself, a lanna dhas,” said her mother; “but + you must keep up your spirits, darlin'—time will work wonders.” + </p> + <p> + “With me, mother, it never can.” + </p> + <p> + “Una,” said John, with affected gravity, “you have just made two + assertions which I can prove to be false.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him with surprise. + </p> + <p> + “False, dear John?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, false, dear Una; and I will prove it, as I said. In the first place, + there is a cure for a breaking' heart; and, in the next place, time will + work wonders even for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said she, assuming a look of sickly cheerfulness, “I should be + very ungrateful, John, if I did not smile for you, even when you don't + smile yourself, after all the ingenious plans you take to keep up my + spirits.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl,” replied John, “I will not trifle with you; I ask you now + to be firm, and say whether you are capable of hearing—good news.” + </p> + <p> + “Good news to me! I hope I am, John.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I have to inform you that this day Bartle Flanagan has + confessed that it was not Connor O'Donovan who burned our haggard, but + himself. The sheriff has written to inform the Government, so that we will + have Connor back again with a name and character unsullied.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him for a moment, then at her parents; and her cheek still + got paler, and after a slight pause she burst into a vehement and + irrepressible paroxysm of grief. + </p> + <p> + “John, is this true?” inquired his father. + </p> + <p> + “Vic va hoiah! John—blessed mother!—thrue?—but is it, + John? is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, it is, mother—the villain, now, that he has no hope of his + life, confessed it this day!” + </p> + <p> + “God knows, darlin',” exclaimed the Bodagh's warm—hearted wife, now + melting into tears herself, “it's no wondher you should cry tears of joy + for this. God wouldn't be above us, a cushla oge machree, or he'd sind + brighter days before your young and innocent heart.” + </p> + <p> + Una could not speak, but wept on; the grief she felt, however, became + gradually milder in its character, until at length her violent sobbings + were hushed; and, although the tears still flowed, they flowed in silence. + </p> + <p> + “We will have him back, sartinly,” said the Bodagh; “don't cry, dear, + we'll have him here again with no disateful villain to swear away his + life.” + </p> + <p> + “I could die now,” said the noble—minded girl; “I think I could die + now, without even seeing him. His name is cleared, and will be cleared; + his character untainted; and that is dearer to me even than his love. Oh, + I knew it! I knew it!” she fervently exclaimed; “and when all the world + was against him, I was for him; I and his own mother—for we were the + two that knew his heart best.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said John, smiling, “if I brought you gloomy news once, I believe + I have brought you pleasant news twice. You remember when I told you he + was not to die.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, John, dear, you are the best brother that ever God blessed a + sister with; but I hope this is not a dream. Oh, can it be possible! and + when I awake in the morning, will it be to the sorrowful heart I had + yesterday? I am bewildered. After this, who should ever despair of the + goodness of God, or think that the trial he sends but for a time is to + last always?” + </p> + <p> + “Bridget,” said the gracious Bodagh, “we must have a glass of punch; an' + upon my reputaytion, Oona, we'll drink to his speedy return.” + </p> + <p> + “Throth, an' Oona will take a glass, herself, this night,” added her + mother; “an' thanks be to Goodness she'll be our colleen dhas dhun again—won't + you have a glass, asthore machree?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do anything that any of you wishes me, mother,” replied Una. + </p> + <p> + She gave, as she uttered the words, a slight sob, which turned their + attention once more to her, but they saw at once, by the brilliant sparkle + of her eyes, that it was occasioned by the unexpected influx of delight + and happiness which was accumulating around her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” she said, “will you make the punch for them to—night? I + cannot rest till I let poor Biddy Kulty know what has happened. Cleared!” + she added, exultingly, “his name and character cleared!” + </p> + <p> + The beautiful girl then left the room, and, short as was the space which + had elapsed since she heard her brother's communication, they could not + help being struck at the light elastic step with which she tripped out of + it. Brief, however, as the period was, she had time to cast aside the + burthen of care which had pressed her down and changed her easy pace to + the slow tread of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “God help our poor colleen dhas,” exclaimed her mother, “but she's the + happy creature, this night!” + </p> + <p> + “And happy will the hearth be where her light will shine,” replied her + father, quoting a beautiful Irish proverb to that effect. + </p> + <p> + “The ways of Providence are beautiful when seen aright or understood,” + observed her brother. “She was too good to be punished, but not too + perfect to be tried. Their calamitous separation will enhance the value of + their affection for each other when they meet; for pure and exalted as her + love for him is, yet I am proud to say that Connor is worthy of her and + it.” + </p> + <p> + That night her mother observed that Una spent a longer time than usual at + her devotions, and, looking into her room when passing, she saw her on her + knees, and heard her again sobbing with the grateful sense of a delighted + heart. She did not again address her, and they all retired to happier + slumbers than they had enjoyed for many a night. + </p> + <p> + Our readers have already had proofs of Una's consideration, generosity, + and common delicacy. Her conduct at the approach of her lover's trial, and + again when he was about to leave her and his country forever, they cannot, + we are sure, have forgotten. When her brother had shown the official + communication from the Castle, in which government expressed its intention + of bringing Connor and his parent's home at its own expense, the Bodagh + and his wife,—knowing that the intended husband of their daughter + possessed no means of supporting her, declared, in order to remove any + shadow of anxiety from her mind, that O'Donovan, after their marriage, + should live with themselves, for they did not wish, they said, that Una + should be separated from them. This was highly gratifying to her, but + beyond her lover's welfare, whether from want of thought or otherwise, it + is not easy to say, she saw that their sympathy did not extend. This + troubled her, for she knew how Connor loved his parents, and how much any + want of comfort they might feel would distress him. She accordingly + consulted with her ever faithful confidant, John, and begged of him to + provide for them, at her own expense, a comfortable dwelling, and to + furnish it, as near as might be practicable in the manner in which their + former one had been furnished. She also desired him to say nothing to + their parents about this, “for I intend,” she added, “to have a little + surprise for them all.” + </p> + <p> + About the time, therefore, when the vessel in which they were to arrive + was expected, a snug, well—furnished house, convenient to the + Bodagh's, amply stored with provisions, and kept by a daughter of Nogher + M'Cormick, awaited them. Nothing that could render them easy was omitted, + and many things also were procured, in the shape of additional comforts, + to which they had not been accustomed before. + </p> + <p> + At length the arrival of the much wished-for vessel was announced, and + John O'Brien, after having agreed to let Una know by letter where the + Bodagh's car should meet them, mounted the day coach, and proceeded to + welcome home his future brother-in-law, prepared, at the same time, to + render both to him and his parents whatever assistance they stood in need + of, either pecuniary or otherwise, after so long and so trying a voyage. + </p> + <p> + The meeting of two such kindred spirits may be easily conceived. There + were few words wasted between them, but they were full of truth and + sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “My noble fellow,” said O'Brien, clasping Connor's hand, “she is at home + with a beating heart and a happy one, waiting for you.” + </p> + <p> + “John,” replied the other fervently, “the wealth of the universe is below + her price. I'm not worthy of her, except in this, that I could shed my + heart's dearest blood to do her good.” + </p> + <p> + “Little you know of it yet,” said the other smiling significantly, “but + you will soon.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared that Fardorougha's wife had borne the hardships of both + voyages better than her husband, who, as his son sensibly observed, had + been too much worn down before by the struggle between his love for him + and his attachment to his money. + </p> + <p> + “His cares are now nearly over,” said Connor, with a sigh. “Indeed, he is + so far gone that I don't know how to lave him while I'm providin' a home + for him to die in.” + </p> + <p> + “That is already done,” replied O'Brien. “Una did not forget it. They have + a house near ours, furnished with everything that can contribute to their + comfort.” + </p> + <p> + Connor, on hearing this, paused, and his cheek became pale and red + alternately with emotion—his nerves thrilled, and a charm of love + and pleasure diffused itself over his whole being. + </p> + <p> + “There is no use in my speaking,” he exclaimed; “love her more than I do I + cannot.” + </p> + <p> + In consequence of Fardorougha's illness, they were forced to travel by + slower and shorter stages than they intended. O'Brien, however, never left + them; for he knew that should the miser die on the way, they would require + the presence and services of a friend. In due time, however, they reached + the place appointed by John for the car to meet them; and ere many hours + had passed, they found themselves once more in what they could call their + home. From the miser's mind the power of observing external nature seemed + to have been altogether withdrawn; he made no observation whatever upon + the appearance or novelty of the scene to which he was conveyed, nor of + the country through which he passed; but when put to bed he covered + himself with the bed-clothes, and soon fell into a slumber. + </p> + <p> + “Connor,” said his mother, “your father's now asleep, an' won't miss you; + lose no time, thin, in goin' to see her; and may God strinthen you both + for sich a meetin'!” They accordingly went. The Bodagh was out, but Una + and her mother were sitting in the parlor when the noise of a jaunting-car + was heard driving up to the door; Una involuntarily looked out of the + window, and seeing two she started up, and putting her hands together, + hysterically exclaimed thrice, “Mother, mother, mother, assist me, assist + me—he's here!” Her mother caught her in her arms; and at the same + moment Connor rushed in. Una could only extend her arms to receive him; he + clasped her to his heart, and she sobbed aloud several times rapidly, and + then her head sank upon his bosom. + </p> + <p> + Her mother and brother were both weeping. + </p> + <p> + Her lover looked down upon her, and, as he hung over the beautiful and + insensible girl, the tears which he shed copiously bedewed her face. After + a few minutes she recovered, and her brother, with his usual delicacy, + beckoned to his mother to follow him out of the room, knowing that the + presence of a third person is always a restraint upon the interchange of + even the tenderest and purest affection. Both, therefore, left them to + themselves; and we, in like manner, must allow that delicious interview to + be sacred only to themselves, and unprofaned by the gaze or presence of a + spectator. The Bodagh and his wife were highly gratified at the steps + their children had taken to provide for the comfort of Fardorougha and his + wife. The next day the whole family paid them a visit, but on seeing the + miser, it was clear that his days were numbered. During the most vigorous + and healthy period of his life, he had always been thin and emaciated; but + now, when age, illness, the severity of a sis months' voyage, and, last of + all, the hand of death, left their wasting traces upon his person, it + would indeed be difficult to witness an image of penury more significant + of its spirit. We must, however, do the old man justice. Since the loss of + his money or rather since the trial and conviction of his son, or probably + since the operation of both events upon his heart, he had seldom, if ever, + by a single act or expression, afforded any proof that his avarice + survived, or was able to maintain its hold upon him, against the shock + which awakened the full power of a father's love. + </p> + <p> + About ten o'clock, a. m., on the fourth day after their arrival, Connor, + who had run over to the Bodagh's, was hurriedly sent for by his mother, + who desired Nelly M'Cormick to say that his father incessantly called for + him, and that he must not lose a moment in coming. He returned immediately + with her, and found the old man reclining in bed, supported by his wife, + who sat behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Is my boy comin'?” he said, in a thin, wiry, worn voice, but in words + which, to any person near him, were as distinct almost as ever—“is + my boy Connor comin'?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here, father,” replied Connor, who had just entered the sick room; + “sure I am always with you.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, you are,” said he, “you were ever an' always good. Give me your + hand, Connor.” + </p> + <p> + Connor did so. + </p> + <p> + “Connor, darlin',” he proceeded, “don't be like me. I loved money too + much; I set my heart on it, an' you know how it was taken away from me. + The priest yesterday laid it upon me, out of regard to my reignin' sin, as + he called it, to advise you afore I die against lovin' the wealth o' this + world too much.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I never will, father, your own misfortune ought to be a warnin' to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, you may say that; it's I indeed that was misfortunate; but it was all + through P——an' that nest o' robbers, the Isle o' Man.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't think of him or it now, my dear father—don't be discomposin' + your mind about them.” + </p> + <p> + Connor and his mother exchanged a melancholy glance; and the latter, who, + on witnessing his frame of mind, could not help shedding bitter tears, + said to him— + </p> + <p> + “Fardorougha dear, Fardorougha asthore machree, won't you be guided by me? + You're now on your death—bed, an' think of God's marcy—it's + that you stand most in need of. Sure, ayourneen, if you had all the money + you ever had, you couldn't bring a penny of it where you're goin'.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but I'm givin' Connor advice that'll sarve him. Sure I'm not + biddin' him to set his heart on it, for I tould the priest I wouldn't; but + is that any raison why he'd not save it? I didn't tell the priest that I + wouldn't bid him do that.” + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said Connor, “for the love o' God will you put these thoughts + out o' your heart and mind?” + </p> + <p> + “So Connor dear,” proceeded the old man, not attending to him, “in makin' + any bargain, Connor, be sure to make as hard a one as you can; but for all + that be honest, an' never lind a penny o' money widout interest.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he's wandherin',” whispered his mother. “Oh grant it may be so, + marciful Jasus this day!” + </p> + <p> + “Honor ahagur.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, darlin', what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “There's another thing that throubles me—I never knew what it was to + feel myself far from my own till now.” + </p> + <p> + “How is that, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “My bones won't rest in my own counthry; I won't sleep wid them that + belong to me. How will I lie in a strange grave, and in a far land? Oh, + will no one bring me back to my own?” + </p> + <p> + The untutored sympathies of neither wife nor son could resist this + beautiful and affecting trait of nature, and the undying love of one's own + land, emanating, as it did, so unexpectedly, from a heart otherwise + insensible to the ordinary tendernesses of life. + </p> + <p> + “Sure you are at home, avourneen,” said Honor; “an' will rest wid your + friends and relations that have gone before you.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he, “I'm not, I'm far away from them, but now I feel more + comforted; I have one wid me that's dearer to me than them all. Connor and + I will sleep together, won't we, Connor?” + </p> + <p> + This affectionate transition from every other earthly object to himself, + so powerfully smote the son's heart that he could not reply. + </p> + <p> + “What ails him, Connor?” said his wife. “Help me to keep up his head—Saver + above!” + </p> + <p> + Connor raised his head, but saw at a glance that the last struggle in the + old man's heart was over. The miser was no more. + </p> + <p> + Little now remains to be said. The grief for old age, though natural, is + never abiding. + </p> + <p> + The miser did sleep with his own; and after a decent period allotted to + his memory, need we say that our hero and heroine, if we may be permitted + so to dignify them, were crowned in the enjoyment of those affections + which were so severely tested, and at the same time so worthy of their + sweet reward. + </p> + <p> + Ned M'Cormick and Biddy Nulty followed their example, and occupied the + house formerly allotted to Fardorougha and his wife. John O'Brien + afterwards married, and the Bodagh, reserving a small but competent farm + for himself, equally divided his large holdings between his son and + son-in-law. On John's mojority he built a suitable house; but Una and her + husband, and Honor, all live with themselves, and we need scarcely say, + for it is not long since we spent a week with them, that the affection of + the old people for their grandchildren is quite enthusiastic, and that the + grandchildren, both boys and girls, are worthy of it. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Fardorougha, The Miser, by William Carleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FARDOROUGHA, THE MISER *** + +***** This file should be named 16002-h.htm or 16002-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/0/16002/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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