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diff --git a/16011-0.txt b/16011-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4c5ed36 --- /dev/null +++ b/16011-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14588 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Emigrants Of Ahadarra, 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: The Emigrants Of Ahadarra + The Works of William Carleton, Volume Two + +Author: William Carleton + +Illustrator: M. L. Flanery + +Release Date: June 7, 2005 [EBook #16011] +Last Updated: March 2, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA. + + +By William Carleton + + + + +CHAPTER I.--A strong Farmer's Establishment and Family. + +It was one summer morning, about nine o'clock, when a little man, in +the garb and trim of a mendicant, accompanied by a slender but rather +handsome looking girl about sixteen, or it may be a year more, were upon +their way to the house of a man, who, from his position in life, might +be considered a wealthy agriculturist, and only a step or two beneath +the condition of a gentleman farmer, although much more plain and rustic +in his manners. The house and place had about them that characteristic +appearance of abundance and slovenly neglect which is, unfortunately, +almost peculiar to our country. The house was a long slated one, and +stood upon a little eminence, about three or four hundred yards from the +highway. It was approached by a broad and ragged boreen or mock avenue, +as it might be called, that was in very good keeping with the premises +to which it led. As you entered it from the road, you had to pass +through an iron gate, which it was a task to open, and which, when +opened, it was another task to shut. In consequence of this difficulty, +foot passengers had made themselves a way upon each side of it, through +which they went to and came from the house; and in this they were +sanctioned by the example of the family themselves, who, so long as +these side paths were passable, manifested as much reluctance to open or +close the gate as any one else. + +The month was May; and nothing could be more delightful and exhilarating +than the breeze which played over the green fields that were now radiant +with the light which was flooded down upon them from the cloudless sun. +Around them, in every field, were the tokens of that pleasant labor +from which the hopes of ample and abundant harvests always spring. Here, +fixed in the ground, stood the spades of a boon* of laborers, who, as +was evident from that circumstance, were then at breakfast; in another +place might be seen the plough and a portion of the tackle lying beside +it, being expressive of the same fact. Around them, on every side, in +hedges, ditches, green fields, and meadows, the birds seemed +animated into joyous activity or incessant battle, by the business of +nest-building or love. Whilst all around, from earth and air, streamed +the ceaseless voice of universal melody and song. + + * A considerable number of men working together. + +On reaching the gate, Peety Dhu and his pretty daughter turned up +towards the house we have alluded to--which was the residence of a man +named Burke. On reaching it they were observed by a couple of large +dogs, who, partaking of the hospitable but neglected habits of the +family, first approached and looked at them for a moment, then wagged +their tails by way of welcome, and immediately scampered off into the +kitchen to forage for themselves. + +Burke's house and farmyard, though strongly indicative of wealth and +abundance in the owner, were, notwithstanding, evidently the property +of a man whose mind was far back in a knowledge of agriculture, and the +industrial pursuits that depend upon it. His haggard was slovenly in the +extreme, and his farmyard exceedingly offensive to most of the senses; +everything lay about in a careless and neglected manner;--wheelbarrows +without their trundles--sacks for days under the rain that fell from +the eaves of the houses--other implements embedded in mud--car-houses +tumbling down--the pump without a handle--the garden-gate open, and the +pigs hard at work destroying the vegetables, and rooting up the garden +in all directions. In fact, the very animals about the house were +conscious of the character of the people, and acted accordingly. If one +of the dogs, for instance, was hunted at the pigs, he ran in an apparent +fury towards that which happened to be nearest him, which merely lifted +its head and listened for a time--the dog, with loud and boisterous +barking, seizing its ear, led it along for three or four yards in that +position, after which, upon the pig demurring to proceed any further, +he very quietly dropped it and trotted in again, leaving the destructive +animal to resume its depredations. + +The house inside bore the same character. Winter and summer the +hall-door, which had long lost the knocker, lay hospitably open. The +parlor had a very equivocal appearance; for the furniture, though +originally good and of excellent materials, was stained and dinged and +hacked in a manner that denoted but little sense of care or cleanliness. +Many of the chairs, although not worn by age, wanted legs or backs, +evidently from ill-usage alone--the grate was without fire-irons--a +mahogany bookcase that stood in a recess to the right of the fireplace, +with glass doors and green silk blinds, had the glass all broken and +the silk stained almost out of its original color; whilst inside of +it, instead of books, lay a heterogeneous collection of garden seeds +in brown paper--an almanac of twenty years' standing, a dry ink-bottle, +some broken delf, and a large collection of blue-moulded shoes and +boots, together with an old blister of French flies, the lease of their +farm, and a great number of their receipts for rent. To crown all, the +clock in the other recess stood cobwebbed about the top, deprived of the +minute hand, and seeming to intimate by its silence that it had given +note of time's progress to this idle and negligent family to no purpose. + +On the drawing-room stairs there lay what had once been a carpet, but +so inseparable had been their connection that the stairs were now worn +through it, and it required a sharp eye to distinguish such fragments +of it as remained from the color of the dirty boards it covered and the +dust that lay on both. + +On entering the kitchen, Peety and his little girl found thirteen or +fourteen, in family laborers and servants of both sexes, seated at a +long deal table, each with a large wooden noggin of buttermilk and a +spoon of suitable dimensions, digging as if for a wager into one or +other of two immense wooden bowls of stirabout, so thick and firm in +consistency that, as the phrase goes, a man might dance on it. This, +however, was not the only picture of such enjoyment that the kitchen +afforded. Over beside the dresser was turned upon one side the huge pot +in which the morning meal had been made, and at the bottom of which, +inside of course, a spirit of rivalry equally vigorous and animated, but +by no means so harmonious, was kept up by two dogs and a couple of pigs, +which were squabbling and whining and snarling among each other, whilst +they tugged away at the scrapings, or residuum, that was left behind +after the stirabout had been emptied out of it. The whole kitchen, in +fact, had a strong and healthy smell of food--the dresser, a huge one, +was covered with an immense quantity of pewter, wood, and delf; and it +was only necessary to cast one's eye towards the chimney to perceive, by +the weighty masses of black hung beef and the huge sides and flitches +of deep yellow bacon which lined it, that plenty and abundance, even to +overflowing, predominated in the family. + +The “chimney-brace” projected far out over the fire-place towards the +floor, and under it on each side stretched two long hobs or chimney +corner seats, on which nearly a dozen persons could sit of a winter +evening. Mrs. Burke, a smart, good-looking little woman, though somewhat +advanced in years, kept passing in a kind of perpetual motion from +one part of the house to the other, with a large bunch of bright +keys jingling at one side, and a huge house-wife pocket, with a round +pin-cushion dangling beside it, at the other. Jemmy Burke himself, +a placid though solemn-faced man, was sitting on the hob in question +complacently smoking his pipe, whilst over the glowing remnants of an +immense turf fire hung a singing kettle, and beside it on three crushed +coals was the teapot, “waitin',” as the servants were in the habit of +expressing it, “for the masther and misthress's breakfast.” + +Peety, who was well known and a great favorite on his rounds, received a +warm and hospitable welcome from Jemmy Burke, who made him and the girl +sit upon the hob, and immediately ordered them breakfast. + +“Here, Nancy Devlin, get Peety and the girsha their skinfuls of +stirabout an' milk. Sit over to the fire, alanna, an' warm yourself.” + +“Warm, inagh!” replied Peety; “why, sure it's not a fire sich a blessed +mornin' as this she'd want--an' a blessed mornin' it is, glory be to +God!” + +“Troth, an' you're right, sure enough, Peety,” replied the good-natured +farmer; “a blessed saison it is for gettin' down the crops. Go over +there, now, you an' the girsha, to that other table, an'--whish!--kick +them pigs an' dogs out o' the house, an' be d--d to them! One can't hear +their ears for them--you an' the girsha, an' let us see what you can +do. Nancy, achora, jist dash a gawliogue o' sweet milk into their +noggins--they're not like us that's well fed every day--. it's but +seldom they get the likes, the creatures--so dash in a brave gawliogue +o' the sweet milk for them. Take your time, Peety,--aisy, alanna, 'till +you get what I'm sayin; it'll nourish an put strinth in you.” + +“Ah, Misther Burke,” replied Peety, in a tone of gratitude peculiar to +his class, “you're the ould* man still--ever an' always the large heart +an' lavish hand--an' so sign's on it--full an' plinty upon an' about +you--an' may it ever be so wid you an' yours, a chierna, I pray. An how +is the misthress, sir?” + + * That is to say, the same man still. + +“Throth, she's very well, Peety--has no raison to complain, thank God!” + +“Thank God, indeed! and betther may she be, is my worst wish to her--an' +Masther Hycy, sir?--but I needn't ax how he is. Isn't the whole country +ringin' wid his praises;--the blessin' o' God an you, acushla”--this +was to Nancy Devlin, on handing them the new milk--“draw over, darlin', +nearer to the table--there now”--this to his daughter, whom he settled +affectionately to her food. “Ay, indeed,” he proceeded, “sure there's +only the one word of it over the whole Barony we're sittin' in--that +there's neither fetch nor fellow for him through the whole parish. Some +people, indeed, say that Bryan M'Mahon comes near him; but only some, +for it's given up to Masther Hycy all to pieces.” + +“Faix, an' I for one, although I'm his father--amn't I, Rosha?” he +added, good-humoredly addressing his wife, who had just come into the +kitchen from above stairs. + +“Throth,” said the wife, who never replied with good humor unless when +addressed as Mrs. Burke, “you're ill off for something to speak about. +How are you, Peety? an' how is your little girl?” + +“In good health, ma'am, thank God an' you; an' very well employed at the +present time, thanks to you still!” + +To this Mrs. Burke made no reply; for it may be necessary to state +here, that although she was not actually penurious or altogether without +hospitality, and something that might occasionally be termed charity, +still it is due to honest Jemmy to inform the reader in the outset, +that, as Peety Dhu said, “the large heart and the lavish hand” + were especially his own. Mrs. Burke was considered to have been +handsome--indeed, a kind of rustic beauty in her day--and, like many of +that class, she had not been without a due share of vanity, or perhaps +we might say coquetry, if we were to speak the truth. Her teeth were +good, and she had a very pretty dimple in one of her cheeks when she +smiled, two circumstances which contributed strongly to sustain her good +humor, and an unaccountable tendency to laughter, when the poverty +of the jest was out of all proportion to the mirth that followed it. +Notwithstanding this apparently light and agreeable spirit, she was both +vulgar and arrogant, and labored under the weak and ridiculous ambition +of being considered a woman of high pretensions, who had been most +unfortunately thrown away, if not altogether lost, upon a husband whom +she considered as every way unworthy of her. Her father had risen into +the possession of some unexpected property when it was too late to +bestow upon her a suitable education, and the consequence was that, in +addition to natural vanity, on the score of beauty, she was a good +deal troubled with purse-pride, which, with a foolish susceptibility of +flattery, was a leading feature in her disposition. In addition to this, +she was an inveterate and incurable slattern, though a gay and lively +one; and we need scarcely say that whatever she did in the shape +of benevolence or charity, in most instances owed its origin to the +influences of the weaknesses she was known to possess. + +Breakfast, at length, was over, and the laborers, with an odd hiccup +here and there among them, from sheer repletion, got their hats and +began to proceed towards the farm. + +“Now, boys,” said Jemmy, after dropping a spittle into his pipe, +pressing it down with his little finger, and putting it into his +waistcoat pocket, “see an' get them praties down as soon as you can, an' +don't work as if you intended to keep your Christmas there; an' Paddy +the Bounce, I'll thank you to keep your jokes an' your stories to +yourself, an' not to be idlin' the rest till afther your work's done. +Throth it was an unlucky day I had anything to do wid you, you divartin' +vagabone--ha! ha! ha! When I hired him in the Micklemas fair,” proceeded +Jemmy, without addressing himself to any particular individual, “he +killed me wid laughin' to such a degree, that I couldn't refuse the +mehony whatsomever wages he axed; an' now he has the men, insteed o' +mindin' their work, dancin' through the field, an' likely to split at +the fun he tells them, ha! ha! ha! Be off, now, boys. Pettier Murphy, +you randletree, let,the girl alone. That's it Peggy, lay on him; ha! +devil's cure to you! take what you've got any way--you desarve it.” + +These latter observations were occasioned by a romping match that took +place between a young laborer and a good-looking girl who was employed +to drop potatoes for the men. + +At length those who were engaged in the labor of the field departed in +a cheerful group, and in a few minutes the noise of a horse's feet, +evidently proceeding at a rapid trot, was heard coming up the boreen or +avenue towards the house. + +“Ay,” exclaimed Burke, with a sigh, “there comes Hycy at a trot, an' the +wondher is it's not a gallop. That's the way he'll get through life, I +fear; an' if God doesn't change him he's more likely to gallop himself +to the Staff an' Bag (* Beggary.) than to anything else I know. I can't +nor I won't stand his extravagance--but it's his mother's fault, an' +she'll see what it'll come to in the long run.” + +He had scarcely concluded when his son entered the kitchen, alternately +singing and whistling the Foxhunter's jig in a manner that betokened +exuberant if not boisterous spirits. He was dressed in top boots, +a green riding-coat, yellow waistcoat, and drab cassimere small +clothes--quite in jockey trim, in fact. + +Hycy rather resembled his father in the lineaments of his face, and was, +consequently, considered handsome. He was about the middle size, and +remarkably well proportioned. In fact, it would be exceedingly difficult +to find a young fellow of manlier bearing or more striking personal +attractions. His features were regular, and his complexion fresh and +youthful looking, and altogether there was in his countenance and whole +appearance a cheerful, easy, generous, unreflecting dash of character +that not only made him a favorite on first acquaintance, but won +confidence by an openness of manner that completely disarmed suspicion. +It might have been observed, however, that his laugh, like his mother's, +never, or at least seldom, came directly from the heart, and that there +was a hard expression about his otherwise well-formed mouth, such as +rarely indicated generosity of feeling, or any acquaintance with the +kinder impulses of our nature. He was his mother's pet and favorite, and +her principal wish was that he should be looked upon and addressed as +a gentleman, and for that purpose she encouraged him to associate with +those only whose rank and position in life rendered any assumption of +equality on his part equally arrogant and obtrusive. In his own family +his bearing towards his parents was, in point of fact, the reverse +of what it ought to have been. He not only treated his father with +something bordering on contempt, but joined his mother in all that +ignorant pride which kept her perpetually bewailing the fate by which +she was doomed to become his wife. Nor did she herself come off better +at his hands. Whilst he flattered her vanity, and turned her foibles +to his own advantage, under the guise of a very dutiful affection, his +deportment towards her was marked by an ironical respect, which was the +more indefensible and unmanly because she could not see through it. The +poor woman had taken up the opinion, that difficult and unintelligible +language was one test of a gentleman; and her son by the use of such +language, let no opportunity pass of confirming her in this opinion, and +establishing his own claims to the character. + +“Where did you ride to this mornin' Misther Hycy?” + +“Down to take a look at Tom Burton's mare, Crazy Jane, ma'am:-- + + “'Away, my boys, to horse away, + The Chase admits of no delay--'” + +“Tom Burton!” re-echoed the father with a groan; “an so you're in Tom +Burton's hands! A swindlin', horse-dalin' scoundrel that would chate St. +Pether. Hycy, my man, if you go to look for wool to Tom you'll come home +shorn.” + + “'Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule + Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, + That there's wrath and despair--” + +Thank you, father--much obliged; you entertain a good opinion of me.” + +“Do I, faith? Don't be too sure of that.” + +“I've bought her at any rate,” said Hycy--“thirty-five's the figure; but +she's a dead bargain at fifty.” + +“Bought her!” exclaimed the father; “an' how, in God's name, do you +expect to pay for her?” + +“By an order on a very excellent, worthy man and +gentleman-farmer--ycleped James Burke, Esquire--who has the honor +of being father to that ornament of the barony, Hycy Burke, the +accomplished. My worthy sire will fork out.” + +“If I do, that I may--” + +“Silence, poor creature!” said his wife, clapping her hand upon his +mouth--“make no rash or vulgar oaths. Surely, Misther Burke--” + +“How often did I bid you not to misther me? Holy scrapers, am I to be +misthered and pesthered this way, an' my name plane Jemmy Burke!” + +“You see, Hycy, the vulgarian will come out,” said his mother. “I say, +Misther Burke, are you to see your son worse mounted at the Herringstown +Hunt than any other gentleman among them? Have you no pride? + +“No, thank God! barin' that I'm an honest man an' no gentleman; an', as +for Hycy, Rosha--” + +“Mrs. Burke, father, if you please,” interposed Hycy; “remember who your +wife is at all events.” + +“Faith, Hycy, she'll come better off if I forget that same; but I tell +you that instead of bein' the laughin'-stock of the same Hunt, it's +betune the stilts of a plough you ought to be, or out in the fields +keepin' the men to their business.” + +“I paid three guineas earnest money, at all events,” said the son; “but +'it matters not,' as the preacher says-- + + “'When I was at home I was merry and frisky, + My dad kept a pig and my mother sold whiskey'-- + +Beg pardon, mother, no allusion--my word and honor none--to you I mean-- + + “'My uncle was rich, but would never be aisy + Till I was enlisted by Corporal Casey.' + +Fine times in the army, Mr. Burke, with every prospect of a speedy +promotion. Mother, my stomach craves its matutinal supply--I'm in +excellent condition for breakfast.” + +“It's ready. Jemmy, you'll--Misther Burke, I mane--you'll pay for +Misther Hycy's mare.” + +“If I do--you'll live to see it, that's all. Give the boy his +breakwhist.” + +“Thank you, worthy father--much obliged for your generosity-- + + “'Oh, love is the soul of a nate Irishman + He loves all that's lovely, loves all that he can, + With his sprig of--' + +Ah, Peety Dhu, how are you, my worthy peripatetic? Why, this daughter +of yours is getting quite a Hebe on our hands. Mrs. Burke, +breakfast--breakfast, madam, as you love Hycy, the accomplished.” So +saying, Hycy the accomplished proceeded to the parlor we have described, +followed by his maternal relative, as he often called his mother. + +“Well, upon my word and honor, mother,” said the aforesaid Hycy, who +knew and played upon his mother's weak points, “it is a sad thing to see +such a woman as you are, married to a man who has neither the spirit nor +feelings of a gentleman--my word and honor it is.” + +“I feel that, Hycy, but there's no help for spilt milk; we must only +make the best of a bad bargain. Are you coming to your breakfast,” she +shouted, calling to honest Jemmy, who still sat on the hob ruminating +with a kind of placid vexation over his son's extravagance--“your tay's +filled out!” + +“There let it,” he replied, “I'll have none of your plash to-day; I tuck +my skinful of good stiff stirabout that's worth a shipload of it. Drink +it yourselves--I'm no gintleman.” + +“Arrah, when did you find that out, Misther Burke?” she shouted back +again. + +“To his friends and acquaintances it is anything but a recent disco +very,” added Hycy; and each complimented the observation of the other +with a hearty laugh, during which the object of it went out to the +fields to join the men. + +“I'm afraid it's no go, mother,” proceeded the son, when breakfast was +finished--“he won't stand it. Ah, if both my parents were of the +same geometrical proportion, there would be little difficulty in this +business; but upon my honor and reputation, my dear mother, I think +between you and me that my father's a gross abstraction--a most +substantial and ponderous apparition.” + +“An' didn't I know that an' say that too all along?” replied his mother, +catching as much of the high English from him as she could manage: +“however, lave the enumeration of the mare to me. It'll go hard or I'll +get it out of him.” + +“It is done,” he replied; “your stratagetic powers are great, my dear +mother, consequently it is left in your hands.” + +Hycy, whilst in the kitchen, cast his eye several times upon the +handsome young daughter of Peety Dhu, a circumstance to which we owe the +instance of benevolent patronage now about to be recorded. + +“Mother,” he proceeds, “I think it would be a charity to rescue that +interesting little girl of Peety Dhu's from a life of mendicancy.” + +“From a what?” she asked, staring at him. + +“Why,” he replied, now really anxious to make himself understood--“from +the disgraceful line of life he's bringin' her up to. You should take +her in and provide for her.” + +“When I do, Hycy,” replied his mother, bridling, “it won't be a beggar's +daughter nor a niece of Philip Hogan's--sorrow bit.” + +“As for her being a niece of Hogan's, you know it is by his mother's +side; but wouldn't it be a feather in her cap to get under the +protection of a highly respectable woman, though? The patronage of a +person like you, Mrs. Burke, would be the making of her--my word and +honor it would.” + +“Hem!--ahem!--do you think so, Hycy?” + +“Tut, mother--that indeed!--can there be a doubt about it?” + +“Well then, in that case, I think she may stay--that is, if the father +will consent to it.” + +“Thank you, mother, for that example of protection and benevolence. I +feel that all my virtues certainly proceed from your side of the house +and are derived from yourself--there can be no doubt of that.” + +“Indeed I think so myself, Hycy, for where else would you get them? You +have the M'Swiggin nose; an' it can't be from any one else you take your +high notions. All you show of the gentleman, Hycy, it's not hard to name +them you have it from, I believe.” + +“Spoken like a Sybil. Mother, within the whole range of my female +acquaintances I don't know a woman that has in her so much of the +gentleman as yourself--my word and honor, mother.” + +“Behave, Hycy--behave now,” she replied, simpering; “however truth's +truth, at any rate.” + +We need scarcely say that the poor mendicant was delighted at the notion +of having his daughter placed in the family of so warm and independent a +man as Jemmy Burke. Yet the poor little fellow did not separate from the +girl without a strong manifestation of the affection he bore her. She +was his only child--the humble but solitary flower that blossomed for +him upon the desert of life. + +“I lave her wid you,” he said, addressing Mrs. Burke with tears in his +eyes, “as the only treasure an' happiness I have in this world. She is +the poor man's lamb, as I have hard read out of Scripture wanst; an' in +lavin' her undher your care, I lave all my little hopes in this world +wid her. I trust, ma'am, you'll guard her an' look afther her as if she +was one of your own.” + +This unlucky allusion might have broken up the whole contemplated +arrangement, had not Hycy stepped in to avert from Peety the offended +pride of the patroness. + +“I hope, Peety,” he said, “that you are fully sensible of the honor Mrs. +Burke does you and your daughter by taking the girl under her protection +and patronage?” + +“I am, God knows.” + +“And of the advantage it is to get her near so respectable a woman--so +highly respectable a woman?” + +“I am, in troth.” + +“And that it may be the making of your daughter's fortune?” + +“It may, indeed, Masther Hycy.” + +“And that there's no other woman of high respectability in the parish +capable of elevating her to the true principles of double and simple +proportion?” + +“No, in throth, sir, I don't think there is.” + +“Nor that can teach her the newest theories in dogmatic theology and +metaphysics, together with the whole system of Algebraic Equations if +the girl should require them?” + +“Divil another woman in the barony can match her at them by all +accounts,” replied Peety, catching the earnest enthusiasm of Hycy's +manner. + +“That will do, Peety; you see yourself, mother,” he added, taking her +aside and speaking in a low voice, “that the little fellow knows right +well the advantages of having her under your care and protection; +and it's very much to his credit, and speaks very highly for his +metempsychosis that he does so--hem!” + +“He was always a daicent, sinsible, poor creature of his kind,” replied +his mother “besides, Hycy, between you and me, she'll be more than worth +her bit.” + +“There now, Peety,” said her son, turning towards the mendicant; “it's +all settled--wait now for a minute till I write a couple of notes, which +you must deliver for me.” + +Peety sat accordingly, and commenced to lay down for his daughter's +guidance and conduct such instructions as he deemed suitable to the +situation she was about to enter and the new duties that necessarily +devolved upon her. + +In due time Hycy appeared, and placing two letters in Peety's hands, +said--“Go, Peety, to Gerald Cavanagh's, of Fenton's Farm, and if you +can get an opportunity, slip that note into Kathleen's hands--this, mark, +with the corner turned down--you won't forget that?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Very well--you're then to proceed to Tom M'Mahon's, and if you find +Bryan, his son, there, give him this; and if he's at the mountain farm +of Ahadarra, go to him. I don't expect an answer from Kathleen Cavanagh, +but I do from Bryan M'Mahon; and mark me, Peety.” + +“I do, sir.” + +“Are you sure you do?” + +“Sartin, sir.” + +“Silent as the grave then is the word in both cases--but if I ever +hear--” + +“That's enough, Masther Hycy; when the grave spakes about it so will I.” + +Peety took the letters and disappeared with an air rendered important +by the trust reposed in him; whilst Mrs. Burke looked inquiringly at her +son, as if her curiosity were a good deal excited. + +“One of them is to Kate or Kathleen Cavanagh, as they call her,” said +Hycy, in reply to her looks; “and the other for Bryan M'Mahon, who is +soft and generous--_probatum est_. I want to know if he'll stand for +thirty-five--and as for Kate, I'm making love to her, you must know.” + +“Kathleen Cavanagh,” replied his mother; “I'll never lend my privileges +to sich match.” + +“Match!” exclaimed Hycy, coolly. + +“Ah,” she replied warmly; “match or marriage will never--” + +“Marriage!” he repeated, “why, my most amiable maternal relative, do +you mean to insinuate to Hycy the accomplished, that he is obliged to +propose either match or marriage to every girl he makes love to? What a +prosaic world you'd have of it, my dear Mrs. Burke. This, ma'am, is +only an agreeable flirtation--not but that it's possible there may +be something in the shape of a noose matrimonial dangling in the +background. She combines, no doubt, in her unrivalled person, the +qualities of Hebe, Venus, and Diana--Hebe in youth, Venus in beauty, and +Diana in wisdom; so it's said, but I trust incorrectly, as respects one +of them--good-bye, mother--try your influence as touching Crazy Jane, +and report favorably-- + + “'Friend of my soul, this goblet sip, + 'Twill chase the pensive tear. &c.'” + + + + +CHAPTER II.--Gerald Cavanagh and his Family + +--Tom M'Mahon's return from Dublin. + + +The house of Gerald Cavanagh, though not so large as that of our +kind-hearted friend, Jemmy Burke, was a good specimen of what an Irish +farmer's residence ought to be. It was distant from Burke's somewhat +better than two miles, and stood almost, immediately inside the highway, +upon a sloping green that was vernal through the year. It was in +the cottage style, in the form of a cross, with a roof ornamentally +thatched, and was flanked at a little distance by the office-houses. +The grass was always so close on this green, as to have rather the +appearance of a well kept lawn. The thorn-trees stood in front of it, +clipped in the shape of round tables, on one of which, exposed to all +weathers, might be seen a pair of large churn-staves, bleached into a +white, fresh color, that caused a person to long for the butter they +made. On the other stood a large cage, in which was imprisoned a +blackbird, whose extraordinary melody had become proverbial in the +neighborhood. Down a little to the right of the hall-door, a pretty +winding gravelled pathway led to a clear spring well that was +overshadowed by a spreading white-thorn; and at each gable stood a +graceful elder or mountain-ash, whose red berries during the autumn had +a fine effect, and contrasted well with the mass of darker and larger +trees, by which the back portion of the house and the offices was almost +concealed. Both the house and green were in an elevated position, and +commanded a delightful expanse of rich meadows to the extent of nearly +one hundred acres, through which a placid river wound its easy way, like +some contented spirit that glides calmly and happily through the gentle +vicissitudes of an untroubled life. + +As Peety Dhu, whilst passing from the residence of our friend Jemmy +Burke to that of Gerald Cavanagh, considered himself in his vocation, +the reader will not be surprised to hear that it was considerably past +noon! when he arrived at Fenton's Farm; for by this name the property +was known on a portion of which the Cavanaghs lived. It might be about +the hours of two or three o'clock, when Peety, on arriving at the gate +which led into Cavanagh's house, very fortunately saw his daughter +Kathleen, in the act of feeding the blackbird aforementioned; and +prudently deeming this the best opportunity of accomplishing his +mission, he beckoned her to approach him. The good-natured girl did so: +saying at the same time--“What is the matter, Peety?--do you want me? +Won't you come into the kitchen?” + +“Thank you, avourneen, but I can't; I did want you, but it was only to +give you this letther. I suppose it will tell you all. Oh, thin, is it +any wondher that you should get it, an' that half the parish should be +dyin' in love wid you? for, in troth, it's enough to make an ould man +feel young agin even to look at you. I was afraid they might see me +givin' you the letther from the windy, and that's what made me sign to +you to come to me here. Good-bye _a colleen dhas_ (* Pretty girl.)--an' +it's you that's that sure enough.” + +The features, neck, and bosom of the girl, on receiving this +communication, were overspread with one general blush, and she stood, +for a few moments, irresolute and confused. In the mean time Peety had +passed on, and after a pause of a few minutes, she looked at the letter +more attentively, and slowly broke it open. It was probably the first +epistle she had ever received, and we need scarcely say that, as a +natural consequence, she was by no means quick in deciphering written +hand. Be this as it may, after having perused a few lines she started, +looked at the bottom for the name, then at the letter again; and as her +sister Hanna joined her, that brow on which a frown had been seldom ever +seen to sit, was now crimson with indignation. + +“Why, gracious goodness!” exclaims Hanna, “what is this, Kathleen? +Something has vexed you!--ha! a love-letter, too! In airnest, what ails +you? an' who is the letter from, if it's fair to ax?” + +“The letter is not for me,” replied Kathleen, putting it into her +sister's hand, “but when you read it you won't wonder that I'm angry.” + +As Hanna began to go slowly through it, she first laughed, but on +proceeding a little further her brow also reddened, and her whole +features expressed deep and unequivocal resentment. Having concluded the +perusal of this mysterious document, she, looked at her sister, who, in +return, gazed upon her. + +“Well, Kathleen, after all,” said Hanna, “it's not worth while losing +one's temper about it. Never think of it again; only to punish him, I'd +advise you, the next time you see Peety, to send it back.” + +“You don't suppose, Hanna, that I intended to keep it; but indeed,” she +added, with a smile; “it is not worth while bein' angry about.” + +As the sisters stood beside each other, holding this short conversation, +it would be difficult to find any two females more strikingly dissimilar +both in figure, features, and complexion. Hanna was plain, but not +disagreeable, especially when her face became animated with good humor. +Her complexion, though not at all of a sickly hue, was of that middle +tint which is neither pale nor sallow, but holds an equivocal position +between both. Her hair was black, but dull, and without that peculiar +gloss which accompanies either the very snowy skin of a fair beauty, +or, at least, the rich brown hue of a brunette. Her figure was in no way +remarkable, and she was rather under the middle size. + +Her sister, however, was a girl who deserves at our hands a more +accurate and lengthened description. Kathleen Cavanagh was considerably +above the middle size, her figure, in fact, being of the tallest; but no +earthly form could surpass it in symmetry, and that voluptuous fulness +of outline, which, when associated with a modest and youthful style of +beauty, is, of all others, the most fascinating and irresistible. The +whiteness of her unrivalled skin, and the gloss of health which shone +from it were almost dazzling. Her full bust, which literally glowed with +light and warmth, was moulded with inimitable proportion, and the masses +of rich brown hair that shaded her white and expansive forehead, added +incredible attractions to a face that was remarkable not only for +simple beauty in its finest sense, but that divine charm of ever-varying +expression which draws its lights and shadows, and the thousand graces +with which it is accompanied, directly from the heart. Her dark eyes +were large and flashing, and reflected by the vivacity or melancholy +which increased or over-shadowed their lustre, all those joys or +sorrows, and various shades of feeling by which she was moved, whilst +her mouth gave indication of extraordinary and entrancing sweetness, +especially when she smiled. + +Such was Kathleen Cavanagh, the qualities of whose mind were still +superior to the advantages of her person. And yet she shone not forth at +the first view, nor immediately dazzled the beholder by the brilliancy +of her charms. She was unquestionably a tall, fine looking country girl, +tastefully and appropriately dressed; but it was necessary to see her +more than once, and to have an opportunity of examining her, time after +time, to be able fully to appreciate the surprising character of her +beauty, and the incredible variety of those changes which sustain its +power and give it perpetual novelty to the heart and eye. It was, in +fact, of that dangerous description which improves on inspection, and +gradually develops itself upon the beholder, until he feels the full +extent of its influence, and is sensible, perhaps, when too late, that +he is its helpless and unresisting victim. + +Around the two thorn-trees we have alluded to were built circular seats +of the grassy turf, on which the two sisters, each engaged in knitting, +now sat chatting and laughing with that unrestrained good humor and +familiarity which gave unquestionable proof of the mutual confidence +and affection that subsisted between them. Their natural tempers and +dispositions were as dissimilar as their persons. Hanna was lively and +mirthful, somewhat hasty, but placable, quick in her feelings of either +joy or sorrow, and apparently not susceptible of deep or permanent +impressions; whilst Kathleen, on the other hand, was serious, quiet, and +placid--difficult to be provoked, of great sweetness of temper, with a +tinge of melancholy that occasionally gave an irresistible charm to her +voice and features, when conversing upon any subject that was calculated +to touch the heart, or in which she felt deeply. Unlike her sister, she +was resolute, firm, and almost immutable in her resolutions; but that +was because her resolutions were seldom hasty or unadvised, but the +result of a strong feeling of rectitude and great good sense. It is +true she possessed high feelings of self-respect, together with an +enthusiastic love for her religion, and a most earnest zeal for its +advancement; indeed, so strongly did these predominate in her mind, that +any act involving a personal slight towards herself, or indifference to +her creed and its propagation, were looked upon by Kathleen as crimes +for which there was no forgiveness. If she had any fellings, it was in +these two points they lay. But at the same time, we are bound to say, +that the courage and enthusiasm of Joan of Arc had been demanded of her +by the state and condition of her country and her creed, she would +have unquestionably sacrificed her life, if the sacrifice secured the +prosperity of either. + +Something of their difference of temperament might have been observed +during their conversation, while sitting under the white thorn. Every +now and then, for instance, Hanna would start up and commence a +series of little flirtations with the blackbird, which she called her +sweetheart, and again resume her chat and seat as before; or she would +attempt to catch a butterfly as it fluttered about her, or sometimes +give it pursuit over half the green, whilst Kathleen sat with laughing +and delighted eyes, and a smile of unutterable sweetness on her lips, +watching the success of this innocent frolic. In this situation we must +now leave them, to follow Peety, who is on his way to deliver the other +letter to Bryan M'Mahon. + +Our little black Mercury was not long in arriving at the house of Tom +M'Mahon, which he reached in company with that worthy man himself, whom +he happened to overtake near Carriglass where he lived. M'Mahon seemed +fatigued and travel-worn, and consequently was proceeding at a slow pace +when Peety overtook him. The latter observed this. + +“Why, thin, Tom,” said he, after the first salutations had passed, “you +look like a man that had jist put a tough journey over him.” + +“An' so I ought, Peety,” he replied, “for I have put a tough journey +over me.” + +“Musha where were you, thin, if it's fair to ax?” inquired Peety; “for +as for me that hears everything almost, the never a word I heard o' +this.” + +“I was in Dublin, thin, all the way,” replied the farmer, “strivin' to +get a renewal o' my laise from ould Squire Chevydale, the landlord; an' +upon my snuggins, Peety, you may call a journey to Dublin an' home agin +a tough one--devil a doubt of it. However, thank God, here we are at +home; an' blessed be His name that we have a home to come to; for, +afther all, what place is like it? Throth, Peety, my heart longed for +these brave fields of ours--for the lough there below, and the wild +hills above us; for it wasn't until I was away from them that I felt how +strong the love of them was in my heart.” + +M'Mahon was an old but hale man, with a figure and aspect that were much +above the common order even of the better class of peasants. There could +be no mistaking the decent and composed spirit of integrity which was +evident in his very manner; and there was something in his long flowing +locks, now tinged with gray, as they rested upon his shoulders, that +gave an air of singular respect to his whole appearance. + +On uttering the last words he stood, and looking around him became so +much affected that his eyes filled with tears. “Ay,” said he, “thank +God that we have our place to come to, an' that we will still have it to +come to, and blessed be His name for all things! Come, Peety,” he added, +after a pause, “let us see how they all are inside; I'm longin' to see +them, especially poor, dear Dora; an'--God bless me! here she is!--no, +she ran back to tell them--but ay--oh, ay! here she is again, my darlin' +girl, comin' to meet me.” + +He had scarcely uttered the words when an interesting, slender girl, +about eighteen, blushing, and laughing, and crying, all at once, came +flying towards him, and throwing her white arms about his neck, fell +upon his bosom, kissed him, and wept with delight at his return. + +“An' so, father dear, you're back to us! My gracious, we thought you'd +never come home! Sure you worn't sick? We thought maybe that you took +ill, or that--that--something happened you; and we wanted to send Bryan +after you--but nothing happened you?--nor you worn't sick?” + +“You affectionate, foolish darlin', no, I wasn't sick; nor nothing ill +happened me, Dora.” + +“Oh, thank God! Look at them,” she proceeded, directing his attention +to the house, “look at them all crowdin' to the door--and here's Shibby, +too, and Bryan himself--an' see my mother ready to lep out of herself +wid pure joy--the Lord be praised that you're safe back!” + +At this moment his second daughter ran to him, and a repetition of +welcome similar to that which he received from Dora took place. His son +Bryan grasped his hand, and said, whilst a tear stood even in his eye, +that he was glad to see him safe home. The old man, in return, grasped +his hand with an expression of deep feeling, and after having inquired +if they had been all well in his absence, he proceeded with them to the +house. Here the scene was still more interesting. Mrs. M'Mahon stood +smiling at the door, but as he came near, she was obliged once or twice +to wipe away the tears with the corner of her handkerchief. We have +often observed how much fervid piety is mingled with the affections of +the Irish people when in a state of excitement; and this meeting between +the old man and his wife presented an additional proof of it. + +“Blessed be God!” exclaimed his wife, tenderly embracing* him, “blessed +be God, Tom darlin', that you're safe back to us! An' how are you, +avourueen? an' wor you well ever since? an' there was nothin--musha, go +out o' this, Ranger, you thief--oh, God forgive me! what am I sayin'? +sure the poor dog is as glad as the best of us--arrah, thin, look at the +affectionate crathur, a'most beside himself! Dora, avillish, give him +the could stirabout that's in the skillet, jist for his affection, the +crathur. Here, Ranger--Ranger, I say--oh no, sorra one's in the house +now but yourself, Tom. Well, an' there was nothing wrong wid you?” + +“Nothin', Nancy, thanks be to the Almighty--down, poor fellow--there +now, Ranger--och, behave, you foolish dog--musha, see this!” + +“Throth, Tom,” continued his loving wife, “let what will happen, it's +the last journey ever we'll let you take from us. Ever an' ever, there +we wor thinkin' an' thinkin' a thousand things about you. At one time +that something happened you; then that you fell sick an' had none but +strangers about you. Throth we won't; let what will happen, you must +stay wid vis.” + +“Indeed an' I never knew how I loved the place, an' you all, till I +went; but, thank God, I hope it's the last journey ever I'll have to +take from either you or it.” + +“Shibby, run down to--or do you, Dora, go, you're the souplest--to Paddy +Mullen's and Jemmy Kelly's, and the rest of the neighbors, an' tell them +to come up, that your father's home. Run now, acushla, an' if you fall +don't wait to rise; an' Shibby, darlin', do you whang down a lot o' that +bacon into rashers, 'your father must be at death's door wid hunger; +but wasn't it well that I thought of having the whiskey in, for you see +afther Thursday last we didn't know what minute you'd dhrop in on us, +Tom, an' I said it was best to be prepared. Give Peety a chair, the +crature; come forrid, Peety, an' take a sate; an' how are you? an' how +is the girsha wid you, an' where is she?” + +To these questions, thus rapidly put, Peety returned suitable answers; +but indeed Mrs. M'Mahon did not wait to listen to them, having gone to +another room to produce the whisky she had provided for the occasion. + +“Here,” she said, reappearing with a huge bottle in one hand and a glass +in the other, “a sip o' the right sort will help you afther your long +journey; you must be tired, be coorse, so take this.” + +“Aisy, Bridget,” exclaimed her husband, “don't fill it; you'll make me +hearty.” (* tipsy) + +“Throth an' I will fill it,” she replied, “ay, an' put a heap on it. +There now, finish that bumper.” + +The old man, with a smiling and happy face, received the glass, and +taking his wife's hand in his, looked at her, and then upon them all, +with an expression of deep emotion. “Bridget, your health; childre', all +your healths; and here's to Carriglasa, an' may we long live happy in +it, as we will, plase God! Peety, not forgettin' you!” + +We need hardly say that the glass went round, nor that Peety was not +omitted in the hospitality any more than in the toast. + +“Here, Bryan,” said Mrs. M'Mahon, “lay that bottle on the dresser, it's +not worth while puttin' it past till the neighbors comes up; an' it's +they that'll be the glad neighbors to see you safe back agin, Tom.” + +In this she spoke truth. Honest and hearty was the welcome he received +from them, as with sparkling eyes and a warm grasp they greeted him +on his return. Not only had Paddy Mullin and Jemmy Kelly run up in +haste--the latter, who had been digging in his garden, without waiting +to put on his hat or coat--but other families in the neighborhood, young +and old, crowded in to welcome him home---from Dublin--for in that lay +the principal charm. The bottle was again produced, and a holiday spirit +now prevailed among them. Questions upon questions were put to him with +reference to the wonders they had heard of the great metropolis--of +the murders and robberies committed upon travellers--the kidnapping of +strangers from the country--the Lord Lieutenant's Castle, with three +hundred and sixty-four windows in it, and all the extraordinary sights +and prodigies which it is supposed to contain. In a few minutes after +this friendly accession to their numbers had taken place, a youth +entered about nineteen years of age--handsome, tall, and well-made--in +fact, such a stripling as gave undeniable promise of becoming a fine, +powerful young man. On being handed a glass of whiskey he shook hands +with M'Mahon, welcomed him home, and then drank all their healths by +name until he came to that of Dora, when he paused, and, coloring, +merely nodded towards her. We cannot undertake to account for this +omission, nor do more than record what actually happened. Neither do we +know why Dora blushed so deeply as she did, nor why the sparkling and +rapid glance which she gave him in return occasioned him to look down +with an appearance of confusion and pain. That some understanding +subsisted between young Cavanagh--for he was Gerald's son--and Dora +might have been evident to a close observer; but in truth there was +at that moment no such thing as a close observer among them, every eye +being fixed with impatience and curiosity upon Tom M'Mahon, who had now +most of the conversation to himself, little else being left to the share +of his auditors than the interjectional phrases and exclamations of +wonder at his extraordinary account of Dublin. + +“But, father,” said Bryan, “about the business that brought you there? +Did you get the Renewal?” + +“I got as good,” replied the simple-hearted old man, “an' that was the, +word of a gintleman--an' sure they say that that's the best security in +the world.” + +“Well, but how was it?” they exclaimed, “an' how did it happen that you +didn't get the Lease itself?” + +“Why, you see,” he proceeded in reply, “the poor gintleman was near his +end--an' it was owin' to Pat Corrigan that I seen him at all--for Pat, +you know, is his own man. When I went in to where he sat I found Mr. +Fethertonge the agent wid him: he had a night-cap on, an' was sittin' +in a big armchair, wid one of his feet an' a leg swaythed wid flannel. I +thought he was goin' to write or sign papers. 'Well, M'Mahon,' says +he--for he was always as keen as a briar, an' knew me at once--'what do +you want? an' what has brought you from the country?' I then spoke to him +about the new lease; an' he said to Fethertonge, 'prepare M'Mahon's +lease, Fothertonge;--you shall have a new lease, M'Mahon. You are an +honest man, and your family have been so for many a long year upon +our property. As my health is unsartin,' he said, turning to Mr. +Fethertonge, 'I take Mr. Fethertonge here to witness, that in case +anything should happen me I give you my promise for a renewal--an' not +only in my name alone, but in my son's; an' I now lave it upon him to +fulfil my intentions an' my words, if I should not live to see it done +myself. Mr. Fethertonge here has brought me papers to sign, but I am not +able to hould a pen, or if I was I'd give you a written promise; but +you have my solemn word, I fear my dyin' word, in Mr. Fethertonge's +presence--that you shall have a lease of your farm at the ould rint. It +is such tenants as you we want, M'Mahon, an' that we ought to encourage +on our property. Fethertonge, do you in the mane time see that a lease +is prepared for M'Mahon; an' see, at all events, that my wishes shall be +carried into effect.' Sich was his last words to me, but he was a corpse +on the next day but one afterwards.” + +“It's jist as good,” they exclaimed with one voice; “for what is +betther, or what can be betther than _the word of an Irish gentleman?_” + +“What ought to be betther, at all events?” said Bryan. “Well, father, so +far everything is right, for there is no doubt but his son will fulfil +his words--Mr. Fethertonge himself isn't the thing; but I don't see why +he should be our enemy. We always stood well with the ould man, an' I +hope will with the son. Come, mother, move the bottle again--there's +another round in it still; an' as everything looks so well and our mind +is aisy, we'll see it to the bottom.” + +The conversation was again resumed, questions were once more asked +concerning the sights and sounds of Dublin, of which one would imagine +they could scarcely ever hear enough, until the evening was tolerably +far advanced, when the neighbors withdrew to their respective homes, and +left M'Mahon and his family altogether to themselves. + +Peety, now that the joy and gratulation for the return of their +father had somewhat subsided, lost no time in delivering Hycy Burke's +communication into the hands of Bryan. The latter, on opening it, +started with surprise not inferior to that with which Kathleen Cavanagh +had perused the missive addressed to her. Nor was this all. The letter +received by Bryan, as if the matter had been actually designed by the +writer, produced the selfsame symptoms of deep resentment upon him that +the mild and gentle Kathleen Cavanagh experienced on the perusal of her +own. His face became flushed and his eye blazed with indignation as +he went through its contents; after which he once more looked at the +superscription, and notwithstanding the vehement passion into which it +had thrown him, he was ultimately obliged to laugh. + +“Peety,” said he, resuming his gravity, “you carried a letter from Hycy +Burke to Kathleen Cavanagh to-day?” + +“Who says that?” replied Peety, who could not but remember the solemnity +of his promise to that accomplished gentleman. + +“I do, Peety.” + +“Well, I can't help you, Bryan, nor prevent you from thinking so, +sure--stick to that.” + +“Why, I know you did, Peety.” + +“Well, acushla, an' if you do, your only so much the wiser.” + +“Oh, I understand,” continued Bryan, “it's a private affair, or intended +to be so--an' Mr. Hycy has made you promise not to spake of it.” + +“Sure you know all about it, Bryan; an' isn't that enough for you? Only +what answer am I to give him?” + +“None at present, Peety; but say I'll see himself in a day or two.” + +“That's your answer, then?” + +“That's all the answer I can give till I see himself, as I said.” + +“Well, good-bye, Bryan, an' God be wid you!” + +“Good-bye, Peety!” and thus they parted. + + + + +CHAPTER III.--Jemmy Burke Refuses to be, Made a Fool Of + +--Hycy and a Confidant + + +Hycy Burke was one of those persons who, under the appearance of a +somewhat ardent temperament, are capable of abiding the issue of +an event with more than ordinary patience. Having not the slightest +suspicion of the circumstance which occasioned Bryan M'Mahon's +resentment, he waited for a day of two under the expectation that his +friend was providing the sum necessary to accommodate him. The third +and fourth days passed, however, without his having received any reply +whatsoever; and Hycy, who had set his heart upon Crazy Jane, on +finding that his father--who possessed as much firmness as he did of +generosity--absolutely refused to pay for her, resolved to lose no more +time in putting Bryan's friendship to the test. To this, indeed, he was +urged by Burton, a wealthy but knavish country horse-dealer, as we said, +who wrote to him that unless he paid for her within a given period, he +must be under the necessity of closing with a person who had offered +him a higher price. This message was very offensive to Hycy, whose +great foible, as the reader knows, was to be considered a gentleman, not +merely in appearance, but in means and circumstances. He consequently +had come to the determination of writing again to M'Mahon upon the same +subject, when chance brought them together in the market of Ballymacan. + +After the usual preliminary inquiries as to health, Hycy opened the +matter:-- + +“I asked you to lend me five-and-thirty pounds to secure Crazy Jane,” + said he, “and you didn't even answer my letter. I admit I'm pretty +deeply in your debt, as it is, my dear Bryan, but you know I'm safe.” + +“I'm not at this moment thinking much of money matters, Hycy; but, +as you like plain speaking, I tell you candidly that I'll lend you no +money.” + +Hycy's manner changed all at once; he looked at M'Mahon for nearly a +minute, and said in quite a different tone-- + +“What is the cause of this coldness, Bryan? Have I offended you?” + +“Not knowingly--but you have offended me; an' that's all I'll say about +it.” + +“I'm not aware of it,” replied the other---“my word and honor I'm not.” + +Bryan felt himself in a position of peculiar difficulty; he could not +openly quarrel with Hycy, unless he made up his mind to disclose the +grounds of the dispute, which, as matters then stood between him and +Kathleen Cavanagh, to whom he had not actually declared his affection, +would have been an act of great presumption on his part. + +“Good-bye, Hycy,” said he; “I have tould you my mind, and now I've done +with it.” + +“With all my heart!” said the other--“that's a matter of taste on your +part. You're offended, you say; yet you choose to put the offence in +your pocket. It's all right, I suppose--but you know best. Good-bye +to you, at all events,” he added; “be a good boy and take care of +yourself.” + +M'Mahon nodded with good-humored contempt in return, but spoke not. + +“By all that deserves an oath,” exclaimed Hycy, looking bitterly after +him, “if I should live to the day of judgment I'll never forgive you +your insulting conduct this day--and that I'll soon make you feel to +your cost!” + +This misunderstanding between the two friends caused Hycy to feel much +mortification and disappointment. After leaving M'Mahon, he went through +the market evidently with some particular purpose in view, if one could +judge from his manner. He first proceeded to the turf-market, and looked +with searching eye among those who stood waiting to dispose of their +loads. From this locality he turned his steps successively to other +parts of the town, still looking keenly about him as he went along. At +length he seemed disappointed or indifferent, it was difficult to say +which, and stood coiling the lash of his whip in the dust, sometimes +quite unconsciously, and sometimes as if a wager depended on the success +with which he did it--when, on looking down the street, he observed a +little broad, squat man, with a fiery red head, a face almost scaly with +freckles, wide projecting cheek-bones, and a nose so thoroughly of the +saddle species, that a rule laid across the base of it, immediately +between the eyes, would lie close to the whole front of his face. In +addition to these personal accomplishments, he had a pair of strong bow +legs, terminating in two broad, flat feet, in complete keeping with +his whole figure, which, though not remarkable for symmetry, was +nevertheless indicative of great and extraordinary strength. He wore +neither stockings nor cravat of any kind, but had a pair of strong +clouted brogues upon his feet; thus disclosing to the spectator two legs +and a breast that were covered over with a fell of red close hair that +might have been long and strong enough for a badger. He carried in his +hand a short whip, resembling a carrot in shape, and evidently of such +a description as no man that had any regard for his health would wish to +come in contact with, especially from the hand of such a double-jointed +but misshapen Hercules as bore it. + +“Ted, how goes it, my man?” + +“_Ghe dhe shin dirthu, a dinaousal?_” replied Ted, surveying him with a +stare. + +“D--n you!” was about to proceed from Hycy's lips when he perceived +that a very active magistrate, named Jennings, stood within hearing. The +latter passed on, however, and Hycy proceeded:--“I was about to abuse +you, Ted, for coming out with your Irish to me,” he said, “until I saw +Jennings, and then I _had_ you.” + +“Throgs, din, Meeisther Hycy, I don't like the _Bairlha_ (* English +tongue)--'caise I can't sphake her properly, at all, at all. Come you +'out wid the Gailick fwhor me, i' you plaise, Meeisther Hycy.” + +“D--n your Gaelic!” replied Hycy--“no, I won't--I don't speak it.” + +“The Laud forget you for that!” replied Ted, with a grin; “my ould +grandmudher might larn it from you--hach, ach, ha!” + +“None of your d--d impertinence, Ted. I want to speak to you.” + +“Fwhat would her be?” asked Ted, with a face in which there might be +read such a compound of cunning, vacuity, and ferocity as could rarely +be witnessed in the same countenance. + +“Can you come down to me to-night?” + +“No; I'll be busy.” + +“Where are you at work now?” + +“In Glendearg, above.” + +“Well, then, if you can't come to me, I must only go to you. Will you be +there tonight? I wish to speak to you on very particular business.” + +“Shiss; you _will_, dhin, wanst more?” asked the other, significantly. + +“I think so.” + +“Shiss--ay--vary good. Fwen will she come?” + +“About eleven or twelve; so don't be from about the place anywhere.” + +“Shiss---dhin--vary good. Is dhat all?” + +“That's all now. Are your turf _dry_ or _wet_* to-day?” + + * One method of selling Poteen is by bringing in kishes of + turf to the neighboring markets, when those who are up to + the secret purchase the turf, or pretend to do so; and while + in the act of discharging the load, the Keg of Poteen is + quickly passed into the house of him who purchases the + turf.--Are your turf wet or dry? was, consequently, a pass- + word. + +“Not vary dhry,” replied Ted, with a grin so wide that, as was +humorously said by a neighbor of his, “it would take a telescope to +enable a man to see from the one end of it to the other.” + +Hycy nodded and laughed, and Ted, cracking his whip, proceeded up the +town to sell his turf. + +Hycy now sauntered about through the market, chatting here and there +among acquaintances, with the air of a man to whom neither life nor +anything connected with it could occasion any earthly trouble. Indeed, +it mattered little what he felt, his easiness of manner was such that +not one of his acquaintances could for a moment impute to him the +possibility of ever being weighed down by trouble or care of any kind; +and lest his natural elasticity of spirits might fail to sustain this +perpetual buoyancy, he by no means neglected to fortify himself with +artificial support. Meet him when or where you might, be it at six +in the morning or twelve at night, you were certain to catch from his +breath the smell of liquor, either in its naked simplicity or disguised +and modified in some shape. + +His ride home, though a rapid, was by no means a pleasing one. M'Mahon +had not only refused to lend him the money he stood in need of, but +actually quarrelled with him, as far as he could judge, for no other +purpose but that he might make the quarrel a plea for refusing him. This +disappointment, to a person of Hycy's disposition, was, we have seen, +bitterly vexatious, and it may be presumed that he reached home in +anything but an agreeable humor. Having dismounted, he was about to +enter the hall-door, when his attention was directed towards that of the +kitchen by a rather loud hammering, and on turning his eyes to the +spot he found two or three tinkers very busily engaged in soldering, +clasping, and otherwise repairing certain vessels belonging to that warm +and spacious establishment. The leader of these vagrants was a man named +Philip Hogan, a fellow of surprising strength and desperate character, +whose feats of hardihood and daring had given him a fearful notoriety +over a large district of the country. Hogan was a man whom almost every +one feared, being, from confidence, we presume, in his great strength, +as well as by nature, both insolent, overbearing, and ruffianly in the +extreme. His inseparable and appropriate companion was a fierce and +powerful bull-dog of the old Irish breed, which he had so admirably +trained that it was only necessary to give him a sign, and he would +seize by the throat either man or beast, merely in compliance with the +will of his master. On this occasion he was accompanied by two of his +brothers, who were, in fact, nearly as impudent and offensive ruffians +as himself. Hycy paused for a moment, seemed thoughtful, and tapped his +boot with the point of his whip as he looked at them. On entering the +parlor he found dinner over, and his father, as was usual, waiting to +get his tumbler of punch. + +“Where's my mother?” he asked--“where's Mrs. Burke?” + +On uttering the last words he raised his voice so as she might +distinctly hear him. + +“She's above stairs gettin' the whiskey,” replied his father, “and God +knows she's long enough about it.” + +Hycy ran up, and meeting her on the lobby, said, in a low, anxious +voice-- + +“Well, what news? Will he stand it?” + +“No,” she replied, “you may give up the notion--he won't do it, an' +there's no use in axin' him any more.” + +“He won't do it!” repeated the son; “are you certain now?” + +“Sure an' sartin. I done all that could be done; but it's worse an' +worse he got.” + +Something escaped Hycy in the shape of an ejaculation, of which we are +not in possession at present; he immediately added:-- + +“Well, never mind. Heavens! how I pity you, ma'am--to be united to such +a d--d--hem!--to such a--a--such a--gentleman!” + +Mrs. Burke raised her hands as if to intimate that it was useless to +indulge in any compassion of the kind. + +“The thing's now past cure,” she said; “I'm a marthyr, an' that's all +that's about it. Come down till I get you your dinner.” + +Hycy took his seat in the parlor, and began to give a stave of the “Bay +of Biscay:”-- + + “'Loud roar'd the dreadful thunder, + The rain a deluge pours; + The clouds were rent asunder + By light'ning's vivid--' + +By the way, mother, what are those robbing ruffians, the Hogans, doing +at the kitchen door there?” + +“Troth, whatever they like,” she replied. “I tould that vagabond, +Philip, that I had nothing for them to do, an' says he, 'I'm the best +judge of that, Rosha Burke.' An, with that he walks into the kitchen, +an' takes everything that he seen a flaw in, an' there he and them sat +a mendin' an' sotherin' an' hammerin' away at them, without ever sayin' +'by your lave.'” + +“It's perfectly well known that they're robbers,” said Hycy, “and the +general opinion is that they're in connection with a Dublin gang, who +are in this part of the country at present. However, I'll speak to the +ruffians about such conduct.” + +He then left the parlor, and proceeding to the farmyard, made a signal +to one of the Hogans, who went down hammer in hand to where he stood. +During a period of ten minutes, he and Hycy remained in conversation, +but of what character it was, whether friendly or otherwise, the +distance at which they stood rendered it impossible for any one to +ascertain. Hycy then returned to dinner, whilst his father in the +meantime sat smoking his pipe, and sipping from time to time at his +tumbler of punch. Mrs. Burke, herself, occupied an arm-chair to the +left of the fire, engaged at a stocking which was one of a pair that she +contrived to knit for her husband during every twelve months; and on +the score of which she pleaded strong claims to a character of most +exemplary and indefatigable industry. + +“Any news from the market, Hycy?” said his father. + +“Yes,” replied Hycy, in that dry ironical tone which he always used to +his parents--“rather interesting--Ballymacan is in the old place.” + +“Bekaise,” replied his father, with more quickness than might be +expected, as he whiffed away the smoke with a face of very sarcastic +humor; “I hard it had gone up a bit towards the mountains--but I knew +you wor the boy could tell me whether it had or not--ha!--ha!--ha!” + +This rejoinder, in addition to the intelligence Hycy had just received +from his mother, was not calculated to improve his temper. “You may +laugh,” he replied; “but if your respectable father had treated you in a +spirit so stingy and beggarly as that which I experience at your hands, +I don't know how you might have borne it.” + +“My father!” replied Burke; “take your time, Hycy--my hand to you, he +had a different son to manage from what I have.” + +“God sees that's truth,” exclaimed his wife, turning the expression to +her son's account. + +“I was no gentleman, Hycy,” Burke proceeded. + +“Ah, is it possible?” said the son, with a sneer. “Are you sure of that, +now?” + +“Nor no spendthrift, Hycy.” + +“No,” said the wife, “you never had the spirit; you were ever and always +a _molshy_.” (* A womanly, contemptible fellow) + +“An' yet _molshy_ as I was,” he replied, “you wor glad to catch me. +But Hycy, my good boy, I didn't cost my father at the rate of from a +hundre'-an'-fifty to two-hundre'-a-year, an' get myself laughed at and +snubbed by my superiors, for forcin' myself into their company.” + +“Can't you let the boy ait his dinner in peace, at any rate?” said his +mother. “Upon my credit I wouldn't be surprised if you drove him away +from us altogether.” + +“I only want to drive him into common sense, and the respectful feeling +he ought to show to both you an' me, Rosha,” said Burke; “if he expects +to have either luck or grace, or the blessing of God upon him, he'll +change his coorses, an' not keep breakin' my heart as he's doin'.” + +“Will you pay for the mare I bought, father?” asked Hycy, very +seriously. “I have already told you, that I paid three guineas earnest; +I hope you will regard your name and family so far as to prevent me from +breaking my word--besides leading the world to suppose that you are a +poor man.” + +“Regard my name and family!” returned the father, with a look of +bitterness and sorrow; “who is bringin' them into disgrace, Hycy?” + +“In the meantime,” replied the son, “I have asked a plain question, Mr. +Burke, and I expect a plain answer; will you pay for the mare?” + +“An' supposin' I don't?” + +“Why, then, Mr. Burke, if you don't you won't, that's all.” + +“I must stop some time,” replied his father, “an' that is now. I wont +pay for her.” + +“Well then, sir, I shall feel obliged, as your respectable wife has just +said, if you will allow me to eat, and if possible, live in peace.” + +“I'm speakin' only for your--” + +“That will do now--hush--silence if you please.” + +“Hycy dear,” said the mother; “why would you ax him another question +about it? Drop the thing altogether.” + +“I will, mother, but I pity you; in the meantime, I thank you, ma'am, of +your advice.” + +“Hycy,” she continued, with a view of changing the conversation; “did +you hear that Tom M'Bride's dead?” + +“No ma'am, but I expected it; when did he die?” + +Before his father could reply, a fumbling was heard at the hall-door; +and, the next moment, Hogan, thrust in his huge head and shoulders began +to examine the lock by attempting to turn the key in it. + +“Hogan, what are you about?” asked Hycy. + +“I beg your pardon,” replied the ruffian; “I only wished to know if the +lock wanted mendin'--that was all, Misther Hycy.” + +“Begone, sirra,” said the other; “how dare you have the presumption to +take such a liberty? you impudent scoundrel! Mother, you had better pay +them,” he added; “give the vagabonds anything they ask, to get rid of +them.” + +Having dined, her worthy son mixed a tumbler of punch, and while +drinking it, he amused himself, as was his custom, by singing snatches +of various songs, and drumming with his fingers upon the table; whilst +every now and then he could hear the tones of his mother's voice in high +altercation with Hogan and his brothers. This, however, after a time, +ceased, and she returned to the parlor a good deal chafed by the +dispute. + +“There's one thing I wonder at,” she observed, “that of all men in the +neighborhood, Gerald Cavanagh would allow sich vagabonds as they an Kate +Hogan is, to put in his kiln. Troth, Hycy,” she added, speaking to him +in a warning and significant tone of voice, “if there wasn't something +low an' mane in him, he wouldn't do it.” + + “'Tis when the cup is smiling before us. + And we pledge unto our hearts--' + +“Your health, mother. Mr. Burke, here's to you! Why I dare say you are +right, Mrs. Burke. The Cavanagh family is but an upstart one at best; +it wants antiquity, ma'am--a mere affair of yesterday, so what after all +could you expect from it?” + +Honest Jemmy looked at him and then groaned. “An upstart +family!--that'll do--oh, murdher--well, 'tis respectable at all events; +however, as to havin' the Hogans about them--they wor always about them; +it was the same in their father's time. I remember ould Laghlin Hogan, +an' his whole clanjamfrey, men an' women, young an' old, wor near six +months out o' the year about ould Gerald Cavanagh's--the present man's +father; and another thing you may build upon--that whoever ud chance +to speak a hard word against one o' the Cavanagh family, before Philip +Hogan or any of his brothers, would stand a strong chance of a shirtful +o' sore bones. Besides, we all know how Philip's father saved Mrs. +Cavanagh's life about nine or ten months after her marriage. At any +rate, whatever bad qualities the vagabonds have, want of gratitude isn't +among them.” + + “'------That are true, boys, true, + The sky of this life opens o'er us, + And heaven--' + +M'Bride, ma'am, will be a severe loss to his family.” + +“Throth he will, and a sarious loss--for among ourselves, there was none +o' them like him.” + + “'Gives a glance of its blue--' + +“I think I ought to go to the wake to-night. I know it's a bit of a +descent on my part, but still it is scarcely more than is due to a +decent neighbor. Yes, I shall go; it is determined on.” + + “'I ga'ed a waefu' gate yestreen, + A gate I fear I'll dearly rue; + I gat my death frae twa sweet een, + Twa lovely een o' bonnie blue.' + +“Mine are brown, Mrs. Burke--the eyes you wot of; but alas! the family is +an upstart one, and that is strongly against the Protestant interest in +the case. Heigho!” + +Jemmy Burke, having finished his after-dinner pipe and his daily tumbler +both together, went out to his men; and Hycy, with whom he had left the +drinking materials, after having taken a tumbler or two, put on a strong +pair of boots, and changed the rest of his dress for a coarser 'suit, +bade his mother a polite good-bye, and informed her, that as he intended +to be present at M'Bride's wake he would most probably not return until +near morning. + + + + +CHAPTER IV.--A Poteen Still-House at Midnight--Its Inmates. + +About three miles in a south-western direction from Burke's residence, +the country was bounded by a range of high hills and mountains of a very +rugged and wild, but picturesque description. Although a portion of +the same landscape, yet nothing could be more strikingly distinct in +character than the position of the brown wild hills, as contrasted with +that of the mountains from which they abutted. The latter ran in long +and lofty ranges that were marked by a majestic and sublime simplicity, +whilst the hills were of all shapes and sizes, and seemed as if cast +about at random. As a matter of course the glens and valleys that +divided them ran in every possible direction, sometimes crossing and +intersecting each other at right angles, and sometimes running parallel, +or twisting away in opposite directions. In one of those glens that lay +nearest the mountains, or rather indeed among them, was a spot which +from its peculiar position would appear to have been designed from the +very beginning as a perfect paradise for the illicit distiller. It was a +kind of back chamber in the mountains, that might, in fact, have escaped +observation altogether, as it often did. The approach to it was by a +long precipitous glen, that could be entered only at its lower end, and +seemed to terminate against the abrupt side of the mountain, like a +cul de sac. At the very extremity, however, of this termination, and a +little on the right-hand side, there was a steep, narrow pass leading +into a recess which was completely encompassed by precipices. From this +there was only one means of escape independently of the gut through +which it was entered. The moors on the side most approachable were +level, and on a line to the eye with that portion of the mountains which +bounded it on the opposite side, so that as one looked forward the space +appeared to be perfectly continuous, and consequently no person could +suspect that there lay so deep and precipitous a glen between them. + +In the northern corner of this remarkable locality, a deep cave, having +every necessary property as a place for private distillation, ran under +the rocks, which met over it in a kind of gothic arch. A stream of water +just sufficient for the requisite purposes, fell in through a fissure +from above, forming such a little subterraneous cascade in the cavern +as human design itself could scarcely have surpassed in felicity of +adaptation to the objects of an illicit distiller. + +To this cave, then, we must take the liberty of transporting our +readers, in order to give them an opportunity of getting a peep at +the inside of a Poteen Still-house, and of hearing a portion of +conversation, which, although not remarkable for either elegance or +edification, we are, nevertheless, obliged to detail, as being in some +degree necessary to the elucidation of our narrative. Up in that end +which constituted the termination of the cave, and fixed upon a large +turf fire which burned within a circle of stones that supported it, was +a tolerably-sized Still, made of block-tin. The mouth of this Still was +closed by an air-tight cover, also of tin, called the Head, from which a +tube of the same metal projected into a large keeve, or condenser, that +was kept always filled with cool water by an incessant stream from the +cascade we have described, which always ran into and overflowed it. The +arm of this head was fitted and made air-tight, also, into a spiral tube +of copper, called the Worm, which rested in the water of the cooler; and +as it consisted of several convolutions, like a cork-screw, its office +was to condense the hot vapor which was transmitted to it from the +glowing Still into that description of spirits known as poteen. At the +bottom of this cooler, the Worm terminated in a small cock or spigot, +from which the spirits projected in a slender stream, about the +thickness of a quill, into a vessel placed for its reception. Such was +the position of the Still, Head, and Worm, when in full operation. +Fixed about the cave, upon rude stone stillions, were the usual vessels +requisite for the various processes through which it was necessary to +put the malt, before the wort, which is its first liquid shape, was +fermented, cleared off, and thrown into the Still to be singled; for +our readers must know that distillation is a double process, the first +product being called singlings, and the second or last, doublings--which +is the perfect liquor. Sacks of malt, empty vessels, piles of turf, +heaps of grains, tubs of wash, and kegs of whiskey, were lying about in +all directions, together with pots, pans, wooden trenchers, and dishes, +for culinary uses. The seats were round stones and black bosses which +were made of a light hard moss found in the mountains and bogs, and +frequently used as seats in rustic chimney corners. On entering, your +nose was assailed by such a mingled stench of warm grains, sour barm, +putrid potato skins, and strong whiskey, as required considerable +fortitude to bear without very unequivocal tokens of disgust. + +The persons assembled were in every way worthy of the place and its +dependencies. Seated fronting the fire was our friend Teddy Phats, which +was the only name he was ever known by, his wild, beetle brows lit into +a red, frightful glare of savage mirth that seemed incapable, in its +highest glee, to disengage itself entirely from an expression of the +man's unquenchable ferocity. Opposite to him sat a tall, smut-faced, +truculent-looking young fellow, with two piercing eyes and a pair of +grim brows, which, when taken into conjunction with a hard, unfeeling +mouth, from the corners of which two right lines ran down his chin, +giving that part of his face a most dismal expression, constituted +a countenance that matched exceedingly well with the visage of Teddy +Phats. This worthy gentleman was a tinker, and one of Hogan's brothers, +whom we have already introduced to our readers. Scattered about the fire +and through the cavern were a party of countrymen who came to purchase +whiskey for a wedding, and three or four publicans and shebeenmen who +had come on professional business. Some were drinking, some indulging in +song, and some were already lying drunk or asleep in different parts +of this subterraneous pandemonium. Exalted in what was considered the +position of honor sat a country hedge-schoolmaster, his mellow eye +beaming with something between natural humor, a sense of his own +importance, and the influence of pure whiskey, fresh it is called, from +the Still-eye. + +“Here, Teddy,” said one of the countrymen, “will you fill the bottle +again.” + +“No,” replied Teddy, who though as cunning as the devil himself, could +seldom be got to speak anything better than broken English, and that of +such a character that it was often scarcely intelligible. + +“No,” he replied; “I gav'd you wan bottle 'idout payment fwhor her, an' +by shapers I won't give none oder.” + +“Why, you burning beauty, aren't we takin' ten gallons, an' will you +begrudge us a second bottle?” + +“Shiss--devil purshue de bottle more ye'll drunk here 'idout de +_airigad_, (* Money) dat's fwhat you will.” + +“Teddy,” said the schoolmaster, “I drink propitiation to you as a +profissional gintle-man! No man uses more indepindent language than you +do. You are under no earthly obligation to Messrs. Syntax and Prosody. +Grammar, my worthy friend, is banished as an intruder from your +elocution, just as you would exclude a gauger from your Still-house.” + +“Fwhat about de gagur!” exclaimed Teddy, starting; “d--n him an' +shun-tax an' every oder tax, rint an' all--hee! hee! hee!” + +We may as well let our readers know, before we proceed farther, that in +the opinion of many, Teddy Phats understood and could speak English as +well as any man of his station in the country. In fairs or markets, or +other public places, he spoke, it is true, nothing but Irish unless in a +private way, and only to persons in whom he thought he could place every +confidence. It was often observed, however, that in such conversations +he occasionally arranged the matter of those who could use only English +to him, in such a way as proved pretty clearly that he must have +possessed a greater mastery over that language than he acknowledged. We +believe the fact to be, however, that Teddy, as an illicit distiller, +had found it, on some peculiar occasions connected with his profession, +rather an inconvenient accomplishment to know English. He had given some +evidence in his day, and proved, or attempted to prove, a few alibies on +behalf of his friends; and he always found, as there is good reason to +believe, that the Irish language, when properly enunciated through the +medium of an interpreter, was rather the safer of the two, especially +when resorted to within the precincts of the country court-house and in +hearing of the judge. + +“You're a fool, Teddy,” said Hogan; “let them drink themselves; +blind--this liquor's paid for; an' if they lose or spill it by the 'way, +why, blazes to your purty mug, don't you know they'll have to pay for +another cargo.” + +Teddy immediately took the hint. + +“Barney Brogan,” he shouted to a lubberly-looking, bullet-headed cub, +half knave, half fool, who lived about such establishments, and acted +as messenger, spy, and vidette; “listen hedher! bring Darby Keenan dere +dat bottle, an' let 'em drink till de grace o' God comes on 'em--ha, ha, +ha!” + +“More power to you, Vaynus,” exclaimed Keenan; “you're worth a thousand +pounds, quarry weight.” + +“I am inclined to think, Mr. Keenan,” said the schoolmaster, “that you +are in the habit occasionally of taking slight liberties wid the haythen +mythology. Little, I'll be bound, the divine goddess of beauty ever +dreamt she'd find a representative in Teddy Phats.” + +“Bravo! masther,” replied Keenan, “you're the boy can do--only that +English is too tall for me. At any rate,” he added, approaching the +worthy preceptor, “take a spell o' this--it's a language we can all +understand.” + +“You mane to say, Darby,” returned the other, “that it's a kind of +universal spelling-book amongst us, and so it is--an alphabet aisily +larned. Your health, now and under all circumstances! Teddy, or +Thaddeus, I drink to your symmetry and inexplicable proportions; and +I say for your comfort, my worthy distillator, that if you are not so +refulgent in beauty as Venus, you are a purer haythen.” + +“Fwhat a bloody fwhine _Bairlha_ man the meeisther is,” said Teddy, with +a grin. “Fwhaicks, meeisthur, your de posey of Tullyticklem, spishilly +wid Captain Fwhiskey at your back. You spake de Bairlha up den jist all +as one as nobody could understand her--ha, ha, ha!” + +The master, whose name was Finigan, or, as he wished to be called, +O'Finigan, looked upon Teddy and shook his head very significantly. + +“I'm afraid, my worthy distallator,” he proceeded, “that the proverb +which says '_latet anguis in herba_,' is not inapplicable in your +case. I think I can occasionally detect in these ferret-like orbs +that constitute such an attractive portion of your beauty, a passing +scintillation of intelligence which you wish to keep _a secretis_, as +they say.” + +“Mr. Finigan,” said Keenan, who had now returned to his friends, “if +you wouldn't be betther employed to-morrow, you'd be welcome to the +weddin'.” + +“Many thanks, Mr. Keenan,” replied Finigan; “I accept your hospitable +offer wid genuine cordiality. To-morrow will be a day worthy of a white +mark to all parties concerned. Horace calls it chalk, which is probably +the most appropriate substance with which the records of matrimonial +felicity could be registered, _crede experto_.” + +“At any rate, Misther Finigan, give the boys a holiday to-morrow, and be +down wid us airly.” + +“There is not,” replied Finigan, who was now pretty well advanced, “I +believe widin the compass of written or spoken language--and I might +on that subject appeal to Mr. Thaddeus O'Phats here, who is a good +authority on that particular subject, or indeed on any one that involves +the beauty of elocution--I say, then, there is not widin the compass of +spoken language a single word composed of two syllables so delectable +to human ears, as is that word 'dismiss,' to the pupils of a _Plantation +Seminary_; (* A modest periphrasis for a Hedge-School) and I assure you +that those talismanic syllables shall my youthful pupils hear correctly +pronounced to-morrow about ten o'clock.” + +Whilst O'Finigan was thus dealing out the king's English with such +complacent volubility--a volubility that was deeply indebted to the +liquor he had taken--the following dialogue took place in a cautious +under-tone between Batt Hogan and Teddy. + +“So Hycy the sportheen is to be up here to-night?” + +“Shiss.” + +“B--t your shiss! can't you spake like a Christian?” + +“No, I won't,” replied the other, angrily; “I'll spake as I likes.” + +“What brings him up, do you know?” + +“Bekaise he's goin' to thry his misfortune upon _her_ here,” he replied, +pointing to the still. “_You'll_ have a good job of her, fwhedher or +no.” + +“Why, will he want a new one, do you think?” + +“Shiss, to be sure--would ye tink I'd begin to _run_ (* A slang phrase +for distilling) for him on dis ould skillet? an' be de token moreover, +dat wouldn't be afther puttin' nothin' in your pockets--hee! hee! hee!” + +“Well, all that's right--don't work for him widout a new one complate, +Teddy--Still, Head, and Worm.” + +“Shiss, I tell you to be sure I won't--he thried her afore, though.” + +“Nonsense!--no he didn't.” + +“Ah, ha! ay dhin--an' she milked well too--a good cow--a brave +_cheehony_ she was for him.” + +“An' why did he give it up?” + +“Fwhy--fwhy, afeard he'd be diskivered, to be sure; an' dhin shure he +couldn't hunt wid de _dinnaousais_--wid de gentlemans.” + +“An' what if he's discovered now?” + +“Fwhat?--fwhy so much the worsher for you an' me: he's ginerous now an' +den, anyway; but a great rogue afther all, fwher so high a hid as he +carries.” + +“If I don't mistake,” proceeded Hogan, “either himself or his family, +anyhow, will be talked of before this time to-morrow.” + +“Eh, Batt?” asked the other, who had changed his position and sat beside +him during this dialogue--“how is dhat now?” + +“I don't rightly know--I can't say,” replied Hogan, with a smile +murderously grim but knowing--“I'm not up; but the sportheen's a made +boy, I think.” + +“_Dher cheerna!_ you _are_ up,” said Teddy, giving him a furious glance +as he spoke; “there must be no saycrits, I say.” + +“You're a blasted liar, I tell you--I am not, but I suspect--that's +all.” + +“What brought you up dhis night?” asked Teddy, suspiciously. + +“Because I hard he was to come,” replied his companion; “but whether or +not I'd be here.” + +“_Tha sha maigh_--it's right--may be so--shiss, it's all right, may be +so--well?” + +Teddy, although he said it was all right, did not seem however to think +so. The furtive and suspicious glance which he gave Hogan from under his +red beetle brows should be seen in order to be understood. + +“Well?” said Hogan, re-echoing him--“it is well; an' what is more, my +Kate is to be up here wid a pair o' geese to roast for us, for we must +make him comfortable. She wint to thry her hand upon somebody's roost, +an' it'll go hard if she fails!” + +“Fwhail!” exclaimed Teddy, with a grin--“ah, the dioual a fwhail!” + +“An' another thing--he's comin' about Kathleen Cavanagh--Hycy is. He +wants to gain our intherest about her!” + +“Well, an' what harm?” + +“Maybe there is, though, it's whispered that he--hut! doesn't he say +himself that there isn't a girl of his own religion in the parish he'd +marry--now I'd like to see them married, Teddy, but as for anything +else--” + +“Hee! hee! hee!--well,” exclaimed Teddy, with a horrible grimace that +gave his whole countenance a facequake, “an' maybe he's right. Maybe it +'udn't be aisy to get a colleen of his religion--I tink his religion is +fwhere Phiddher Fwhite's estate is--beyant the beyands, Avhere the mare +foaled the fwhiddler--hee! hee! hee!” + +“He had better thry none of his sckames wid any of the Cavanaghs,” + said Bat, “for fraid he might be brought to bed of a mistake some fine +day--that's all I say; an' there's more eyes than mine upon him.” + +This dialogue was nearly lost in the loudness of a debate which had +originated with Keenan and certain of his friends in the lower part of +the still-house. Some misunderstanding relative to the families of the +parties about to be united had arisen, and was rising rapidly into a +comparative estimate of the prowess and strength of their respective +factions, and consequently assuming a very belligerent aspect, when a +tall, lank, but powerful female, made her appearance, carrying a large +bundle in her hand. + +“More power, Kate!” exclaimed Hogan. “I knew she would,” he added, +digging Teddy's ribs with his elbow. + +“Aisy, man!” said his companion; “if you love me, say so, but don't hint +it dat way.” + +“Show forth, Kate!” proceeded her husband; “let us see the +prog--hillo!--oh, holy Moses! what a pair o' beauties!” + +He then whipped up a horn measure, that contained certainly more than +a naggin, and putting it under the warm spirits that came out of the +still-eye, handed it to her. She took it, and coming up towards the +fire, which threw out a strong light, nodded to them, and, without +saying a word, literally pitched it down her throat, whilst at the same +time one of her eyes presented undeniable proofs of a recent conflict. +We have said that there were several persons singing and dancing, +and some asleep, in the remoter part of the cave; and this was true, +although we refrained from mingling up either their mirth or melody with +the conversation of the principal personages. All at once, however, +a series of noises, equally loud and unexpected, startled melodists, +conversationalists, and sleepers all to their legs. These were no other +than the piercing cackles of two alarmed geese which Hogan's wife had +secured from some neighboring farmer, in order to provide a supper for +our friend Hycy. + +“Ted,” said the female, “I lost my knife since I came out, or they'd be +quiet enough before this; lend me one a minute, you blissed babe.” + +“Shiss, to be sure, Kate,” he replied, handing her a large clasp knife +with a frightful blade; “an', Kate, whisper, woman alive--you're bought +up, I see.” + +“How is that, you red rascal?” + +“Bekaise, don't I see dat de purchaser has set his mark upon ye?--hee! +hee! hee!” and he pointed to her eye* as he spoke. + + * A black eye is said to be the devil's mark. + +“No,” she replied, nodding towards her husband, “that's his handy work; +an' ye divil's clip!” she added, turning to Teddy, “who has a betther +right?” + +She then bled the geese, and, looking about her, asked-- + +“Have you any wet hay or straw in the place?” + +“Ay, plenty of bote,” replied Teddy; “an' here's de greeshavigh ready.” + +She then wrapped the geese, feathers and all, separately in a covering +of wet hay, which she bound round them with thumb-ropes of the same +material, and clearing away a space among the burning ashes, placed each +of them in it, and covered them up closely. + +“Now,” said she, “put down a pot o' praities, and we won't go to bed +fastin'.” + +The different groups had now melted into one party, much upon the same +principle that the various little streamlets on the mountains around +them all run, when swollen by a sudden storm, into some larger torrent +equally precipitous and turbulent. Keenan, who was one of those +pertinacious fellows that are equally quarrelsome and hospitable when in +liquor, now resumed the debate with a characteristic impression of the +pugilistic superiority of his family:-- + +“I am right, I say: I remember it well, for although I wasn't there +myself, my father was, an' I often h'ard him say--God rest his +sowl!”--here he reverently took off his hat and looked upwards--“I often +h'ard him say that Paddy Keenan gave Mullin the first knock-down blow, +an' Pether--I mane no disrespect, but far from it--give us your hand, +man alive--you're going to be married upon my shisther to-morrow, +plaise God!--masther, you'll come, remimber? you'll be as welcome as the +flowers o' May, masther--so, Pether, as I was sayin'--I mane no offince +nor disrespect to you or yours, for you are, an' ever was, a daisent +family, an' well able to fight your corner when it came upon you--but +still, Pether--an' for all that--I say it--an' I'll stand to it--I'll +stand it--that's the chat!--that, man for man, there never was one +o' your seed, breed, or generation able to fight a Keenan--that's the +chat!--here's luck! + + “'Oh, 'twas in the month of May, + When the lambkins sport and play, + As I walked out to gain raycrayation, + I espied a comely maid. + Sequestrin' in the shade-- + On her beauty I gazed wid admiraytion,' + +No, Pether, you never could; the Mullins is good men--right good men, +but they couldn't do it.” + +“Barney,” said the brother of the bridegroom, “you may thank God that +Pether is going to be married to your sisther to-morrow as you say, or +we'd larn you another lesson--eh, masther? That's the chat too--ha! ha! +ha! To the divil wid sich impedence!” + +“Gintlemen,” said Finigan, now staggering down towards the parties, “I +am a man of pacific principles, acquainted wid the larned languages, +wid mathematics, wid philosophy, the science of morality according to +Fluxions--I grant you, I'm not college-bred; but, gintlemen, I never +invied the oysther in its shell--for, gintlemen, I'm not ashamed of +it, but I acquired--I absorbed my laming, I may say, upon locomotive +principles.” + +“Bravo, masther!” said Keenan; “that's what some o' them couldn't say--” + +“Upon locomotive principles. I admit Munster, gintlemen--glorious +Kerry!--yes, and I say I am not ashamed of it. I do plead guilty to the +peripatetic system: like a comet I travelled during my juvenile days--as +I may truly assert wid a slight modicum of latitude” (here he lurched +considerably to the one side)--“from star to star, until I was able to +exhibit all their brilliancy united simply, I can safely assert, in my +own humble person. Gintlemen, I have the honor of being able to write +'Philomath' after my name--which is O'Finigan, not Finigan, by any +means--and where is the oyster in his shell could do that? Yes, and +although they refused me a sizarship in Trinity College--for what will +not fear and envy do? + + “'Tantaene animis celesiibus irae' + +Yet I have the consolation to know that my name is seldom mentioned +among the literati of classical Kerry--_nudis cruribus_ as they +are--except as the Great O'Finigan! In the mane time--” + +“Bravo, Masther!” exclaimed Keenan, interrupting him. “Here, Ted! +another bottle, till the Great O'Finigan gets a glass of whiskey.” + +“Yes, gintlemen,” proceeded O'Finigan, “the alcohol shall be accepted, +_puris naturalibus_--which means, in its native--or more properly--but +which comes to the same thing--in its naked state; and, in the mane +time, I propose the health of one of my best benefactors--Gerald +Cavanagh, whose hospitable roof is a home--a domicilium to erudition +and respectability, when they happen, as they ought, to be legitimately +concatenated in the same person--as they are in your humble servant; and +I also beg leave to add the pride of the barony, his fair and virtuous +daughter, Kathleen, in conjunction wid the I accomplished son of another +benefactor of mine--honest James Burke--in conjunction, I say, wid his +son, Mr. Hyacinth. Ah, gintlemen--Billy Clinton, you thievin' villain! +you don't pay attention; I say, gintlemen, if I myself could deduct +a score of years from the period of my life, I should endeavor to run +through the conjugations of _amo_ in society wid that pearl of beauty. +In the mane time--” + +“Here's her health, masther,” returned Keenan, “an' her father's too, +an' Hycy Burke's into the bargain--is there any more o' them? Well, no +matter.” Then turning to his antagonist, he added, “I say agin, thin, +that a Mullin's not a match for a Keenan, nor never was--no, nor never +will be! That's the chat! and who's afeard to say it? eh, masther?” + +“It's a lie!” shouted one of the opposite party; “I'm able to lick e'er +a Keenan that ever went on nate's leather--an' that's my chat.” + +A blow from Keenan in reply was like a spark to gunpowder. In a moment +the cavern presented a scene singularly tragic-comic; the whole party +was one busy mass of battle, with the exception of Ted and Batt, and the +wife of the latter, who, having first hastily put aside everything that +might be injured, stood enjoying the conflict with most ferocious glee, +the schoolmaster having already withdrawn himself to his chair. Even +Barney Broghan, the fool, could not keep quiet, but on the contrary, +thrust himself into the quarrel, and began to strike indiscriminately at +all who came in his way, until an unlucky blow on the nose happening, +to draw his claret very copiously, he made a bound up behind the sill, +uttering a series of howlings, as from time to time he looked at his own +blood, that were amusing in the extreme. As it happened, however, the +influence of liquor was too strong upon both parties to enable them +to inflict on each other any serious injury. Such, however, was the +midnight pastime of the still-house when our friend Hycy entered. + +“What in the devil's name--or the guager's--which is worse--” he asked, +addressing himself to Batt and Teddy, “is the meaning of all this?” + +“Faith, you know a'most as much about it,” replied Hogan, laughing, “as +we do; they got drunk, an' that accounts for it.” + +“Mr. Burke,” said Finigan, who was now quite tipsy; “I am delighted to +be able to--to--yes, it is he,” he added, speaking to himself--“to see +you well.” + +“I have my doubts as to that, Mr. Finigan,” replied Hycy. + +“Fame, Mr. Burke,” continued the other, “has not been silent with regard +to your exploits. Your horsemanship, sir, and the trepid pertinacity +with which you fasten upon the reluctant society of men of rank, have +given you a notorious celebrity, of which your worthy father, honest +Jemmy, as he is called, ought to be justly proud. And you shine, Mr. +Burke, in the loves as well as in the--_tam veneri quam_--I was about to +add _Marti_, but it would be inappropriate, or might only remind you +of poor Biddy Martin. It is well known you are a most accomplished +gintleman, Mr. Burke--_homo fadus ad unguem--ad unguem_.” + +Hycy would have interrupted the schoolmaster, but that he felt puzzled +as to whether he spoke seriously or ironically; his attention besides +was divided between him and the party in conflict. + +“Come,” said he, addressing Hogan and Teddy, “put an end to this work, +and why did you, you misbegotten vagabond,” he added, turning to the +latter, “suffer these fellows to remain here when you knew I was to come +up?” + +“I must shell my fwisky,” replied Teddy, sullenly, “fwhedher you come or +stay.” + +“If you don't clear the place of them instantly,” replied Hycy, “I shall +return home again.” + +Hogan seemed a good deal alarmed at this intimation, and said--“Ay, +indeed, Terry, we had better put them out o' this.” + +“Fwhor fwhat?” asked Teddy, “dere my best customers shure--an' fwlay +would I quarrel wid 'em all fwor wan man?” + +“Good-night, then, you misshapen ruffian,” said Burke, about to go. + +“Aisy, Mr. Burke,” said. Hogan; “well soon make short work wid them. +Here, Ted, you devil's catch-penny, come an' help me! Hillo, here!” he +shouted, “what are you at, you gallows crew? Do you want to go to the +stone jug, I say? Be off out o' this--here's the guager, blast him, an' +the sogers! Clear out, I tell you, or every mother's son of you will +sleep undher the skull and cross-bones to-night.” (* Meaning the County +Prison) + +“Here you, Barney,” whispered Teddy, who certainly did not wish that +Burke should return as he came; “here, you great big fwhool you, give +past your yowlin' dere--and lookin' at your blood--run out dere, come in +an' shout the gauger an' de sogers.” + +Barney, who naturally imagined that the intelligence was true, complied +with the order he had received in a spirit of such alarming and dreadful +earnestness, that a few minutes found the still-house completely cleared +of the two parties, not excepting Hogan himself, who, having heard +nothing of Teddy's directions to the fool, took it now for granted that +that alarm was a real one, and ran along with the rest. The schoolmaster +had fallen asleep, Kate Hogan was engaged in making preparations for +supper at the lower end of the casern, and the fool had been dispatched +to fetch Hogan himself back, so that Hycy now saw there was a good +opportunity for stating at more length than he could in the market the +purpose of his visit. + +“Teddy,” said he, “now that the coast's clear, let us lose no time in +coming to the point. You are aware that Bryan M'Mahon has come into the +mountain farm of Ahadarra by the death of his uncle.” + +“Shiss; dese three years.” + +“You will stick to your cursed brogue,” said the other; “however, that's +your own affair. You are aware of this?” + +“I am.” + +“Well, I have made my mind up to take another turn at this,” and he +tapped the side of the still with his stick; “and I'll try it there. I +don't know a better place, and it is much more convenient than this.” + +Teddy looked at him from under his brows, but seemed rather at a loss to +comprehend his meaning. + +“Fwor fhy 'ud you go to Ahadarra?” + +“It's more convenient, and quite as well adapted for it as this place, +or nearly.” + +“Well! Shiss, well?” + +“Well; why that's all I have to say about it, except that I'm not to be +seen or known in the business at all--mark that.” + +“Shiss--well? De Hogans must know it?” + +“I am aware of that; we couldn't go on without them. This running of +your's will soon be over; very well. You can go to Ahadarra to-morrow +and pitch upon a proper situation for a house. These implements will +do.” + +“No, dey won't; I wouldn't tink to begin at all wid dat ould skillet. +You must get de Hogans to make a new Still, Head and Worm, an' dat will +be money down.” + +“Very well; I'll provide the needful; let Philip call to me in a day or +two.” + +“Dat Ahadarra isn't so safe,” said Teddy. “Fwhy wouldn't you carry it on +here?” and he accompanied the query with a piercing-glance as he spoke. + +“Because,” replied Hycy, “I have been seen here too often already, and +my name must not in any way be connected with your proceedings. This +place, besides, is now too much known. It's best and safest to change +our bob, Ted.” + +“Dere's trewt in dhat, anyhow,” said the other, now evidently more +satisfied as to Hycy's motive in changing. “But,” he added, “as you +is now to schange, it 'ud be gooder to shange to some better place nor +Ahadarra.” + +“I know of none better or safer,” said Burke. + +“Ay, fifty,” returned his companion, resuming his suspicious looks; “but +no matther, any way you must only plaise yerself--'tis all the shame to +me.” + +“Ahadarra it must be then,” said the other, “and that ends it.” + +“Vary well, den, Ahadarra let her be,” said Ted, and the conversation on +this subject dropped. + +The smuggler's supper now made it's appearance. The geese were +beautifully done, and as Hycy's appetite had got a keen stimulus by his +mountain walk, he rendered them ample justice. + +“Trot,” said Teddy, “sich a walk as you had droo de mountains was enough +to sharpen anybody's appetite.” + +Hogan also plied him with punch, having provided himself with sugar for +that express purpose. Hycy, however, was particularly cautious, and for +a long time declined to do more than take a little spirits and water. It +was not, in fact, until he had introduced the name of Kathleen Cavanagh +that he consented to taste punch. Between the two, however, Burke's +vanity was admirably played on; and Hogan wound up the dialogue by +hinting that Hycy, no matter how appearances might go, was by no means +indifferent to the interesting daughter of the house of Cavanagh. + +At length, when the night was far advanced, Burke rose, and taking his +leave like a man who had forgotten some appointment, but with a very +pompous degree of condescension, sought his way in the direction of +home, across the mountains. + +He had scarcely gone, when Hogan, as if struck by a sudden recollection, +observed as he thought it would be ungenerous to allow him, at that +hour of the night, to cross the mountains by himself. He accordingly +whispered a few words to his wife, and left them with an intention, as +he said, to see Mr. Hycy safe home. + + + + +CHAPTER V.--Who Robbed Jemmy Burke? + + +On the second morning after the night described in the last chapter, +Bryan M'Mahon had just returned to his father's house from his farm in +Ahadarra, for the purpose of accompanying him to an Emigration auction +in the neighborhood. The two farms of Carriglass and Ahadarra had been +in the family of the M'Mahon's for generations, and were the property +of the same landlord. About three years previous to the period of our +narrative, Toal M'Mahon, Bryan's uncle, died of an inflammatory attack, +leaving to his eldest nephew and favorite the stock farm of Ahadarra. +Toal had been a bachelor who lived wildly and extravagantly, and when he +died Bryan suceeeded to the farm, then as wild, by the way, and as much +neglected as its owner had been, with an arrear of two years' rent upon +it. In fact the house and offices had gone nearly to wreck, and when +Bryan entered into occupation he found that a large sum of money +should be expended in necessary improvements ere the place could +assume anything like a decent appearance. As a holding, however, it +was reasonable; and we may safely assert that if Toal M'Mahon had been +either industrious or careful he might have lived and died a wealthy +man upon it. As Ahadarra lay in the mountain district, it necessarily +covered a large space; in fact it constituted a townland in itself. The +greater portion of it, no doubt, was barren mountain, but then there +were about three hundred acres of strong rough land that was either +reclaimed or capable of being so. Bryan, who had not only energy and +activity, but capital to support both, felt, on becoming master of a +separate farm, that peculiar degree of pride which was only natural to +a young and enterprising man. He had now a fair opportunity, he thought, +of letting his friends see what skill and persevering exertion could +do. Accordingly he commenced his improvements in a spirit which at +least deserved success. He proceeded upon the best system then known to +intelligent agriculturalists, and nothing was left undone that he deemed +necessary to work out his purposes. He drained, reclaimed, made fences, +roads, and enclosures. Nor did he stop here. We said that the house and +offices were in a ruinous state when they came into his possession, and +the consequence was that he found it necessary to build a new dwelling +house and suitable offices, which he did on a more commodious and +eligible site. Altogether his expenditure on the farm could not have +been less than eight hundred pounds at the period of the landlord's +death, which, as the reader knows is that at which we have commenced our +narrative. + +Thomas M'Mahon's family consisted of--first, his father, a grey-haired +patriarch, who, though a very old man, was healthy and in the full +possession of all his faculties; next, himself; then his wife; Bryan, +the proprietor of Ahadarra; two other sons, both younger, and two +daughters, the eldest twenty, and the youngest about eighteen. The name +of the latter was Dora, a sweet and gentle girl, with beautiful auburn +hair, dark, brilliant eyes, full of intellect and feeling, an exquisite +mouth, and a figure which was remarkable for natural grace and great +symmetry. + +“Well, Bryan,” said the father, “what news from Ahadarra?” + +“Nothing particular from Ahadarra,” replied the son, “but our +good-natured friend, Jemmy Burke, had his house broken open and robbed +the night before last.” + +“Wurrah deheelish” exclaimed his mother, “no, he hadn't!” + +“Well, mother,” replied Bryan, laughing, “maybe not. I'm afeard it's too +true though.” + +“An' how much did he lose?” asked his father. + +“Between seventy and eighty pounds,” said Bryan. + +“It's too much,” observed the other; “still I'm glad it's no more; an' +since the villains did take it, it's well they tuck it from a man that +can afford to lose it.” + +“By all accounts,” said Arthur, or, as he was called, Art, “Hycy, the +sportheen, has pulled him down a bit. He's not so rich now, they say, as +he was three or four years ago.” + +“He's rich enough still,” observed his father; “but at any rate, upon +my sowl I'm sorry for him; he's the crame of an honest, kind-hearted +neighbor; an' I believe in my conscience if there's a man alive that +hasn't an ill-wisher, he is.” + +“Is it known who robbed him?” asked the grandfather, “or does he suspect +anybody?” + +“It's not known, of course, grandfather,” replied Bryan, “or I suppose +they would be in limbo before now; but there's quare talk about it. The +Hogans is suspected, it seems. Philip was caught examinin' the hall-door +the night before; an' that does look suspicious.” + +“Ay,” said the old man, “an' very likely they're the men. I remember +them this many a long day; it's forty years since Andy Hogan--he was +lame--Andy Boccah they called him--was hanged for the murdher of your +great-granduncle, Billy Shevlin, of Frughmore, so that they don't like +a bone in our bodies. That was the only murdher I remember of them, but +many a robbery was laid to their charge; an' every now and then +there was always sure to be an odd one transported for thievin', an' +house-breakin', and sich villainy.” + +“I wouldn't be surprised,” said Mrs. M'Mahon, “but it was some o' them +tuck our two brave geese the night before last.” + +“Very likely, in throth, Bridget,” said her husband; “however, as the +ould proverb has it, 'honesty's the best policy.' Let them see which of +us I'll be the best off at the end of the year.” + +“There's an odd whisper here an' there about another robber,” continued +Bryan; “but I don't believe a word about it. No, no;--he's wild, and not +scrupulous in many things, but I always thought him generous, an' indeed +rather careless about money.” + +“You mane the sportheen?” said his brother Art. + +“The Hogans,” said the old man, recurring to the subject, as associated +with them, “would rob anybody barrin' the Cavanaghs; but I won't listen +to it, Bryan, that Hycy Burke, or the son of any honest man that ever +had an opportunity of hearin' the Word o' God, or livin' in a Christian +counthry, could ever think of robbin' his own father--his own father! I +won't listen to that.” + +“No, nor I, grandfather,” said Bryan, “putting everything else out of +the question, its too unnatural an act. What makes you shake your head, +Art?” + +“I never liked a bone in his body, somehow,” replied Art. + +“Ay, but my goodness, Art,” said Dora, “sure nobody would think of +robbin' their own father?” + +“He has been doin' little else these three years, Dora, by all +accounts,” replied Art. + +“Ay, but his father,” continued the innocent girl; “to break into the +house at night an' rob him like a robber!” + +“Well, I say, it's reported that he has been robbin' him these three +years in one shape or other,” continued Art; “but here's Shibby, let's +hear what she'll say. What do you think, shibby?” + +“About what, Art?” + +“That Hycy Burke would rob his father!” + +“Hut, tut! Art, what puts that into your head? Oh, no, Art--not at +all--to rob his father, an' him has been so indulgent to him!” + +“Indeed, I agree with you, Shibby,” said Bryan; “for although my opinion +of Hycy is changed very much for the worse of late, still I can't and +won't give in to that.” + +“An what has changed it for the worse?” asked his mother. “You an' he +wor very thick together always--eh? What has changed it, Bryan?” + +Bryan began to rub his hand down the sleeve of his coat, as if freeing +it from dust, or perhaps admiring its fabric, but made no reply. + +“Eh, Bryan,” she continued, “what has changed your opinion of him?” + +“Oh, nothing of much consequence, mother,” replied her son; “but +sometimes a feather will toll one how the wind blows.” + +As he spoke, it might have been observed that he looked around upon the +family with an appearance of awakened consciousness that was very nearly +allied to shame. He recovered his composure, however, on perceiving +that none among them gave, either by look or manner, any indication of +understanding what he felt. This relieved him: but he soon found that +the sense of relief experienced from it was not permitted to last long. +Dora, his favorite sister, glided over to his side and gently taking +his hand in hers began to play with his fingers, whilst a roguish +laugh, that spoke a full consciousness of his secret, broke her pale but +beautiful features into that mingled expression of smiles and blushes +which, in one of her years, gives a look of almost angelic purity +and grace. After about a minute or two, during which she paused, and +laughed, and blushed, and commenced to whisper, and again stopped, +she at last put her lips to his ear and whispered:--“Bryan, I know the +reason you don't like Hycy.” + +“You do?” he said, laughing, but yet evidently confused in his +turn;--“well--an'--ha!--ha!--no, you fool, you don't.” + +“May I never stir if I don't!” + +“Well, an' what is it?” + +“Why, bekaise he's coortin' Kathleen Cavanagh--now!” + +“An' what do I care about that?” said her brother. + +“Oh, you thief!” she replied; “don't think you can play upon me. I know +your saycret.” + +“An' maybe, Dora,” he replied, “I have my saycrets. Do you know who was +inquirin' for you to-day?” + +“No,” she returned, “nor I don't care either--sorra bit.” + +“I met James Cavanagh there below”--he proceeded, still in a whisper, +and he fixed his eyes upon her countenance as he spoke. The words, +however, produced a most extraordinary effect. A deep blush crimsoned +her whole neck and face, until the rush of blood seemed absolutely to +become expressive of pain. Her eye, however, did not droop, but turned +upon him with a firm and peculiar sparkle. She had been stooping with +her mouth near his ear, as the reader knows, but she now stood up +quickly, shook back her hair, that had been hanging in natural and +silken curls about her blushing cheeks, and exclaimed: “No--no. Let +me alone Bryan;” and on uttering these words she hurried into another +room.” + +“Bryan, you've vexed Dora some way,” observed her sister. “What did you +say to her?” + +“Nothing that vexed her, I'll go bail,” he replied, laughing; “however, +as to what I said to her, Shibby, ax me no questions an' I'll tell you +no lies.” + +“Becaise I thought she looked as if she was angry,” continued Shibby, +“an', you know, it must be a strong provocation that would anger her.” + +“Ah, you're fishin' now, Shibby,” he replied, “and many thanks for your +good intentions. It's a saycret, an' that's all you're going to know +about it. But it's as much as 'll keep you on the look out this month +to come; and now you're punished for your curiosity--ha!--ha!--ha! Come, +father, if we're to go to Sam Wallace's auction it's time we should +think of movin'. Art, go an' help Tom Droogan to bring out the horses. +Rise your foot here, father, an' I'll put on your spur for you. We +may as well spake to Mr. Fethertonge, the agent, about the leases. I +promised we'd call on Gerald Cavanagh, to--an' he'll be waitin' for +us--hem!” + +His eye here glanced about, but Dora was not visible, and he accordingly +seemed to be more at his ease. “I think, father,” he added, “I must +trate you to a pair of spurs some of these days. This one, it's clear, +has been a long time in the family.” + +“Throth, an' on that account,” replied M'Mahon, “I'm not goin' to part +wid it for the best pair that ever were made. No, no, Bryan; I like +everything that I've known long. When my heart gets accustomed to +anything or to anybody”--here he glanced affectionately at his wife--“I +can't bear to part wid them, or to think of partin' wid them.” + +The horses were now ready, and in a brief space he and his son were +decently mounted, the latter smartly but not inappropriately dressed; +and M'Mahon himself, with his right spur, in a sober but comfortable +suit, over which was a huge Jock, his inseparable companion in every +fair, market, and other public place, during the whole year. Indeed, it +would not be easy to find two better representatives of that respectable +and independent class of Irish yeomanry of which our unfortunate country +stands so much in need, as was this man of high integrity and his +excellent son. + +On arriving at Gerald Cavanagh's, which was on their way to the auction, +it appeared that in order to have his company it was necessary they +should wait for a little, as he was not yet ready. That worthy man they +found in the act of shaving himself, seated very upright upon a chair +in the kitchen, his eyes fixed with great steadiness upon the opposite +wall, whilst lying between his legs upon the ground was a wooden dish +half filled with water, and on a chair beside him a small looking-glass, +with its backup, which, after feeling his face from time to time in an +experimental manner, he occasionally peeped into, and again laid down to +resume the operation. + +In the mean time, Mrs. Cavanagh set forward a chair for Tom M'Mahon, and +desired her daughter Hannah to place one for Bryan, which she did. The +two girls were spinning, and it might have been observed that Kathleen +appeared to apply herself to that becoming and feminine employment with +double industry after the appearance of the M'Mahons. Kate Hogan was +sitting in the chimney corner, smoking a pipe, and as she took it out +of her mouth to whiff away the smoke from time to time, she turned her +black piercing eyes alternately from Bryan M'Mahon to Kathleen with a +peculiar keenness of scrutiny. + +“An' how are you all up at Carriglass?” asked Mrs. Cavanagh. + +“Indeed we can't complain, thank God, as the times goes,” replied +M'Mahon. + +“An' the ould grandfather?--musha, but I was glad to see him look so +well on Sunday last!” + +“Troth he's as stout as e'er a one of us.” + +“The Lord continue it to him! I suppose you hard o' this robbery that +was done at honest Jemmy Burke's?” + +“I did, indeed, an' I was sorry to hear it.” + +“A hundre' an' fifty pounds is a terrible loss to anybody in such +times.” + +“A hundre' an' fifty!” exclaimed M'Mahon--“hut, tut!--no; I thought it +was only seventy or eighty. He did not lose so much, did he?” + +“So I'm tould.” + +“It was two--um--it was two--urn--urn--it was--um--um--it was two +hundre' itself,” observed Cavanagh, after he had finished a portion of +the operation, and given himself an opportunity of speaking--“it war +two hundre' itself, I'm tould, an' that's too much, by a hundre' and +ninety-nine pounds nineteen shillings an' eleven pence three fardens, to +be robbed of.” + +“Troth it is, Gerald,” replied M'Mahon; “but any way there's nothin' +but thievin' and robbin' goin'. You didn't hear that we came in for a +visit?” + +“You!” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--“is it robbed? My goodness, no!” + +“Why,” he proceeded, “we'll be able to get over it afore we die, I hope. +On ere last night we had two of our fattest geese stolen.” + +“Two!” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh--“an' at this saison of the! year, too. +Well, that same's a loss.” + +“Honest woman,” said M'Mahon, addressing Kate Hogan, “maybe you'd give +me a draw o' the pipe?” + +“Maybe so,” she replied; “an' why wouldn't I? Shough! that is here!” + +“Long life to you, Katy. Well,” proceeded the worthy man, “if it was a +poor person that wanted them an' that took them from hardship, why God +forgive them as heartily as I do: but if they wor stole by a thief, for +thievin's sake, I hope I'll always be able to afford the loss of a pair +betther than the thief will to do without them; although God mend his or +her heart, whichever it was, in the mane time.” + +During this chat Bryan and Hanna Cavanagh were engaged in that +good-humored badinage that is common to persons of their age and +position. + +“I didn't see you at Mass last Sunday, Bryan?” said she, laughing; “an' +that's the way you attend to your devotions. Upon my word you promise +well!” + +“I seen you, then,” replied Bryan, “so it seems if I haven't betther +eyes I have betther eyesight.” + +“Indeed I suppose,” she replied, “you see everything but what you go to +see.” + +“Don't be too sure of that,” he replied, with an involuntary glance at +Kathleen, who seemed to enjoy her sister's liveliness, as was evident +from the sweet and complacent smile which beamed upon her features. + +“Indeed I suppose you're right,” she replied; “I suppose you go to say +everything but your prayers.” + +“An' is it in conversation with Jemmy Kelly,” asked Bryan, jocularly, +alluding to her supposed admirer, “that you perform your own devotions, +Miss Hanna?” + +“Hanna, achora,” said the father, “I think you're playin' the second +fiddle there--ha! ha! ha!” + +The laugh was now general against Hanna, who laughed as loudly, however, +as any of them. + +“Throth, Kathleen,” she exclaimed, “you're not worth knot's o' straws +or you'd help me against this fellow here; have you nothing,” she +proceeded, addressing Bryan, and nodding towards her sister, “to say +to her? Is everything to fall on my poor shoulders? Come, now,” with +another nod in the same direction, “she desarves it for not assistin' +me. Who does she say her devotions with?” + +“Hem--a--is it Kathleen you mane?” he inquired, with rather an +embarrassed look. + +“Not at all,” she replied ironically, “but my mother there--ha! ha! ha! +Come, now, we're waitin' for you.” + +“Come, now?” he repeated, purposely misunderstanding her--“oh, begad, +that's a fair challenge;” and he accordingly rose to approach her with +the felonious intent of getting a kiss; but Hanna started from her wheel +and ran out of the house to avoid him. + +“Throth, you're a madcap, Hanna,” exclaimed her mother, placidly--“an +antick crather, dear knows--her heart's in her mouth every minute of +the day; an' if she gets through the world wid it always as light, poor +girl, it'll be well for her.” + +“Kathleen, will you get me a towel or praskeen of some sort to wipe my +face wid,” said her father, looking about for the article he wanted. + +“I left one,” she replied, “on the back of your chair--an' there it is, +sure.” + +“Ay, achora, it's you that laves nothing undone that ought to be done; +an' so it is here, sure enough.” + +“Why, then, Gerald,” asked Tom M'Mahon, “in the name o' wonder what +makes you stick to the meal instead o' the soap when you're washin' +yourself?” + +“Throth, an' I ever will, Tom, an' for a good raison--becaise it's best +for the complexion.” + +The unconscious simplicity with which Cavanagh uttered this occasioned +loud laughter, from which Kathleen herself was unable to refrain. + +“By the piper, Gerald,” said M'Mahon, “that's the best thing I h'ard +this month o' Sundays. Why, it would be enough for one o' your daughters +to talk about complexion. Maybe you paint too--ha! ha! ha!” + +Hanna now put in her head, and asked “what is the fun?” but immediately +added, “Kathleen, here's a message for you.” + +“For me!” said Kathleen; “what is it?” + +“Here's Peety Dhu's daughter, an' she says she has something to say to +you.” + +“An' so Rosha Burke,” said Mrs. Cavanagh, “has taken her to live wid +them; I hope it'll turn out well for the poor thing.” + +“Will you come out, Kathleen,” said Hanna, again peeping in; “she +mustn't tell it to anyone but yourself.” + +“If she doesn't she may keep it, then,” replied Kathleen. “Tell her I +have no secrets,” she added, “nor I won't have any of her keeping.” + +“You must go in,” said Hanna, turning aside and addressing the +girl--“you must go in an' spake to her in the house.” + +“She can tell us all about the robbery, anyway,” observed Mr. Cavanagh. +“Come in, a-colleen--what are you afeard of?” + +“I have a word to say to her,” said the girl--“a message to deliver; but +it must be to nobody but herself. Whisper,” she proceeded, approaching +Kathleen, and about to address her. + +Kathleen immediately rose, and, looking on the messenger, said, “Who is +it from, Nanny?” + +“I mustn't let _them_ know,” replied the girl, looking at the rest. + +“Whatever it is, Or whoever it's from, you must spake it out then, +Nanny,” continued Kathleen. + +“It's from Hycy Burke, then,” replied the girl; “he wants to know if you +have any answer for him?” + +“Tell Hycy Burke,” replied Kathleen, “that I have no answer for him; an' +that I'll thank him to send me no more messages.” + +“Hut tut! you foolish girl,” exclaimed her mother, rising up and +approaching her daughter; “are you mad, Kathleen?” + +“What's come over you,” said the father, equally alarmed; “are you +beside yourself, sure enough, to send Hycy Burke sich a message as +that? Sit down, ma colleen, sit down, an' never mind her--don't think of +bringin' him back sich a message. Why, then,” he added, “in the name o' +mercy, Kathleen, what has come over you, to trate a respectable young +man like. Hycy Burke in that style?” + +“Simply, father, because I don't wish to receive any messages at all +from him.” + +“But your mother an' I is of a different opinion, Kathleen. We wish you +to resave messages from him; an' you know you're bound both by the laws +of God an' man to obey us an' be guided by us.” + +“I know I am, father,” she replied; “an' I hope I haven't been an +undutiful child to either of you for so far.” + +“That's true, Kathleen--God sees it's truth itself.” + +“What message do you expect to bring back, Nanny?” said the mother, +addressing the girl. + +“An answer,” replied the girl, seeing that everything must be and was +above board--“an answer to the letther he sent her.” + +“Did he send you a letther?” asked her father, seriously; “an' you never +let us know a word about it?--did he send you a letther?” + +Kathleen paused a moment and seemed to consult Hanna's looks, who had +now joined them. At length she replied, slowly, and as if in doubt +whether she ought to speak in the affirmative or not--“no, he sent me no +letter.” + +“Well now, take care, Kathleen,” said her mother; “I seen a letther in +your hands this very mornin'.” + +Kathleen blushed deeply; but as if anxious to give the conversation +another turn, and so to relieve herself, she replied, “I can't prevent +you, mother, or my father either, from sending back whatever answer you +wish; but this I say that, except the one I gave already, Hycy Burke +will never receive any message or any answer to a message from me; an' +now for the present let us drop it.” + +“Very well,” said her mother; “in the mane time, my good girsha, sit +down. Is it thrue that Jemmy Burke's house was robbed a couple o' nights +ago?” + +“True enough,” said the girl. + +“And how much did he lose?” asked M'Mahon; “for there's disputes about +it--some say more and some say less.” + +“Between seventy and eighty pounds,” replied Nanny; “the masther isn't +sure to a pound or so; but he knows it was near eighty, any way.” + +“That's just like him,” said Cavanagh; “his careless way of managin'. +Many a time I wondher at him;--he slobbers everything about that you'd +think he'd beggar himself, an' yet the luck and prosperity flows to him. +I declare to my goodness I think the very dirt under his feet turns to +money. Well, girsha, an' have they any suspicion of the robbers?” + +“Why,” said the girl, “they talk about”--she paused, and it was +quite evident from her manner that she felt not only embarrassed, but +distressed by the question. Indeed this was no matter of surprise; for +ever since the subject was alluded to, Kate Hogan's black piercing eyes +had not once been removed from hers, nor did the girl utter a single +word in reply to the questions asked of her without first, as it were, +consulting Kate's looks. + +A moment's reflection made Cavanagh feel that the question must be a +painful one to the girl, not only on her own account, but on that of +Kate herself; for even then it was pretty well known that Burke's family +entertained the strongest suspicion that the burglary had been committed +by these notorious vagabonds. + +“Well, ahagur,” said Cavanagh, “no matter now--it's all over unless they +catch the robbers. Come now,” he added, addressing M'Mahon and his son, +“if you're for the road I'm ready.” + +“Is it true, Mrs. Burke,” asked Bryan, “that you're goin' to have a Kemp +in your barn some o' these days?” + +“True enough, indeed,” replied the good woman, “an' that's true, too, +tell the girls, Bryan, and that they must come.” + +“Not I,” said the other, laughing; “if the girls here--wishes them to +come, let them go up and ask them.” + +“So we will, then,” replied Hanna, “an' little thanks to you for your +civility.” + +“I wish I knew the evenin',” said Bryan, “that I might be at +Carriglass.” + +“When will we go, Kathleen,” asked her sister, turning slyly to her. + +“Why, you're sich a light-brained cracked creature,” replied Kathleen, +“that I can't tell whether you're joking or not.” + +“The sorra joke I'm jokin',” she replied, striving suddenly to form +her features into a serious expression. “Well, then, I have it,” she +proceeded. “Some Thursday, Bryan, in the middle o' next week--now you +know I'm not jokin', Kathleen.” + +“Will you come, Kathleen?” inquired Bryan. + +“Why, if Hanna goes, I suppose I must,” she replied, but without looking +up. + +“Well then I'll have a sharp look-out on Thursday.” + +“Come now,” said Gerald, “let us move. Give the girsha something to ate +among you, for the credit of the house, before she goes back,” he added. +“Paddy Toole, girth that horse tighter, I tell you; I never can get you +to girth him as he ought to be girthed.” + +On bidding the women good-bye, Bryan looked towards Kathleen for a +moment, and her eye in return glanced on him as he was about to go. But +that simple glance, how significant was its import, and how clearly did +it convey the whole history of as pure a heart as ever beat within a +female bosom! + + + + +CHAPTEE VI.--Nanny Peety looks mysterious + +--Hycy proves himself a good Judge of Horse-Flesh. + + +The day was all light, and life, and animation. The crops were going +down fast in every direction, and the fields were alive and cheerful +with the voice of mirth and labor. As they got into the vicinity of +Wallace's house they overtook or were over-taken by several of their +neighbors, among whom was seen our old friend, Jemmy, or as I his +acquaintances generally called him, honest Jemmy Burke, mounted upon a +brood mare with a foal at her heels, all his other horses having been +engaged in the labor of the season. + +After having sympathized with him upon the loss he had sustained, +they soon allowed the subject to drop; for it was quite clear from the +expression of care, if not of sorrow, that was legible in his face, that +the very mention of it only caused him to feel additional anxiety. + +At length they reached Wallace's house, where they found a tolerably +large crowd of people waiting for the auction, which was not to commence +until the hour of one o'clock. + +Sam Wallace was a respectable Protestant farmer, who finding, as he +said, that there was no proper encouragement given to men who were +anxious and disposed to improve their property, had deemed it a wiser +step to dispose of his stock and furniture than to remain as he was--not +merely with no certain prospect of being able to maintain even his +present position, but with the chances against him of becoming every day +a poorer and more embarrassed man. His brother, who like himself, after +having been on the decline for a considerable period, had emigrated to +America, where he was prospering, now urged him to follow his example +and leave a country in which he said, in language that has become a +proverb, “everything was going to the bad.” Feeling that his brother's +words were unfortunately too true, Wallace, at all events, came to the +determination of following his example. + +The scene at which our friends arrived was indeed a striking and +impressive one. The majority of the crowd consisted of those who +belonged either to the Protestant or Presbyterian forms of worship; and +it might be with truth asserted, that nothing could surpass the clear +unquestionable character of independent intelligence which prevailed +among them. Along with this, however, there was an obvious spirit +of dissatisfaction, partial, it is true, as to numbers, but yet +sufficiently marked as to satisfy an observer that such a people, if +united upon any particular subject or occasion, were not for a moment to +be trifled with or cajoled. Their feelings upon the day in question were +stirred into more than usual warmth. A friend, a neighbor, a man of +an old and respectable family, frugal, industrious, and loyal, as +they said, both to king and country, was now forced from want of due +encouragement from his landlord, to disturb all his old associations +of friendship and kindred, and at rather an advanced state of life +to encounter the perils of a long voyage, and subject himself and his +family to the changes and chances which he must encounter in a new +world, and in a different state of society. Indeed, the feeling which +prompted the expression of these sentiments might be easily gathered +from the character that pervaded the crowd. Not to such an extent, +however, with respect to Wallace himself or any portion of his family, +There might be observed upon him and them a quiet but resolute spirit, +firm, collected, and cheerful; but still, while there were visible no +traces of dejection or grief, it was easy to perceive that under this +decent composure there existed a calm consciousness of strong stern +feeling, whose dignity, if not so touching, was quite as impressive as +the exhibition of louder and more clamorous grief. + +“Bryan,” said M'Mahon to his son, as the auction was proceeding, “I'll +slip up to the agent's, and do you see if them sheep goes for a fair +value--if they do, give a bid or two any how. I'm speakin' of that lot +we wor lookin' at, next the wall there.” + +“I'll pay attention to it,” said Bryan; “I know you'll find the agent at +home now, for I seen him goin' in a while ago; so hurry up, an' ax him +if he can say how soon we may expect the leases.” + +“Never fear, I will.” + +On entering Fethertonge's Hall, M'Mahon was treated with very marked +respect by the servant, who told him to walk into the parlor, and he +would let his master know. + +“He entertains a high opinion of you, Mister M'Mahon,” said he; “and I +heard him speak strongly about you the other day to some gentlemen that +dined with us--friends of the landlord's. Walk into the parlor.” + +In a few minutes M'Mahon was shown into Fethertonge's office, the walls +of which were, to a considerable height, lined with tin boxes, labelled +with the names of those whose title-deeds and other valuable papers they +contained. + +Fethertonge was a tall, pale, placid looking man, with rather a +benevolent cast of countenance, and eyes that were mild, but very +small in proportion to the other features of his face. His voice was +exceedingly low, and still more musical and sweet than low; in fact +it was such a voice as, one would imagine, ought to have seldom been +otherwise employed than in breathing hope and, consolation to despairing +sinners on their bed of death. Yet he had nothing of either the parson +or the preacher in his appearance. So far from that he was seldom known +to wear a black coat, unless when dressed for dinner, and not very +frequently even then, for he mostly wore blue. + +“M'Mahon,” said he, “take a seat. I am glad to see you. How are your +family?” + +“Both I an' they is well, I'm thankful to you, sir,” replied the farmer. + +“I hope you got safe home from the metropolis. How did you travel?” + +“Troth, I walked it, sir, every inch of the way, an' a long stretch it +is. I got safe, sir, an' many thanks to you.” + +“That was a sudden call poor Mr. Chevydale got, but not more so than +might, at his time of life, have been expected; at all events I hope he +was prepared for it, and indeed I have reason to think he was.” + +“I trust in God he was, sir,” replied M'Mahon; “so far as I and mine +is consarned, we have raison to wish it; he didn't forget us, Mr. +Fethertonge.” + +“No,” said the other, after some pause, “he did not indeed forget you, +M'Mahon.” + +“I tuck the liberty of callin' down, sir,” proceeded M'Mahon, “about +the leases he spoke of, an' to know how soon we may expect to have them +filled.” + +“That is for your son Bryan and yourself. How is Bryan proceeding with +Ahadarra, by the way? I spoke to him some time ago about his system of +cropping that farm, and some other matters of the kind; I must ride up +one of these days to see how he is doing. As to the leases, there is no +difficulty in the way, M'Mahon, except to get our young landlord to sign +them. That we will easily do, of course; in the meantime, do you go +on, improve your land, and strive to do something for your children, +M'Mahon; for, in this world, he that won't assist himself will find +very few that will. The leases are in Dublin; if you wish, I'll send for +them, and have them ready for the landlord's signature whenever he comes +down here; or I'll leave them in town, where I shall be more likely to +see him.” + +“Very well, sir,” replied M'Mahon, “I lave it all in your own hands, for +I know that if you won't be my friend, you won't be my enemy.” + +“Well--certainly--I hope not. Will you take anything? Here, James, bring +in some brandy.” + +M'Mahon's protest against the brandy was anything but invincible. +Fethertonge's manner was so kind, so familiar, and his interest in the +success of himself and his family so unaffectedly warm and sincere, +that, after drinking his health, he took his leave with a light and. +happy heart. + +Their journey home was a little more lively than the depression of Jemmy +Burke's mind had allowed it to be on their way to the auction. Yet +each had his own peculiar feelings, independently of those which were +elicited by the conversation. Jemmy Burke, who had tasted some of +Wallace's liquor, as indeed, with the exception of Bryan, they all did, +was consequently in a better and more loquacious humor than he had been +during the day. On this occasion his usual good fortune attended him for +it was the opinion of every one there, that he had got the best bargain +disposed of during the day--a lot of twenty-five wethers in prime +condition. Gerald Cavanagh, who had also tasted the poteen, stuck as +closely as possible to his skirts, moved thereto by a principle of +adhesion, with which our readers are already acquainted; and Bryan, +who saw and understood his motives, felt by no means comfortable at +witnessing such strong symptoms of excessive attachment. Old M'Mahon +did not speak much, for, in truth, he could not overcome the depressing +effects of the scene he had witnessed, nor of the words uttered by +Wallace, as they bade each other farewell. + +Burke, however, and his companion, Cavanagh, looked like men between +whom a warm friendship was about to grow up. Whenever they came to a +public-house or a shebeen, they either dismounted and had a cordial drop +together, or took it in the saddle after touching each other's glasses +in token of love and amity. It is true some slight interruption +occurred, that disturbed the growing confidence and familiarity of their +dialogue, which interruption consisted in the endless whinnying of the +mare whenever her foal delayed a moment behind her, or in the sudden and +abrupt manner in which she wheeled about with a strong disposition to +return and look for it. + +On the discovery of Burke's robbery an investigation was set on foot, +but with no prospect of success, and without in any way involving the +Hogans, who were strongly suspected. It was clearly proved that Philip +and one of his brothers slept in their usual residence--Cavanagh's +corn-kiln--on that night, but it was admitted that Batt Hogan and his +wife Kate were both abroad the greater portion of it. On them suspicion +might, indeed, very naturally have rested, were it not for the evidence +of Hycy himself, who at once admitted that he could exonerate them from +any suspicion, as he knew both how and where they had passed the night +in question. So far, therefore, the Hogans, dishonest as they were +unquestionably reputed to be, now stood perfectly exonerated from all +suspicion. + +The lapse of a very few days generally cools down the ferment occasioned +by matters of this kind, especially when public curiosity is found to be +at fault in developing the whole train of circumstances connected with +them. All the in-door servants, it is true, were rigorously examined, +yet it somehow happened that Hycy could not divest himself of a +suspicion that Nanny Peety was in some way privy to the disappearance +of the money. In about three or four days he happened to see her thrust +something into her father's bag, which he carried as a mendicant, and he +could not avoid remarking that there was in her whole manner, which was +furtive and hurried, an obvious consciousness of something that was not +right. He resolved, however, to follow up the impression which he +felt, and accordingly in a few minutes after her father had taken his +departure, he brought her aside, and without giving her a moment to +concoct a reply, he asked what it was that he saw her thrusting in such +a hurried manner into his bag. She reddened like scarlet, and, after +pausing a moment, replied, “Nothing, sir, but an ould pair of shoes.” + +“Was that all?” he asked. + +“That was all, sir,” she replied. + +The blush and hesitation, however, with which she answered him were +far from satisfactory; and without more ado he walked briskly down the +avenue, and overtook her father near the gate at its entrance. + +“Peety,” said he, “what was that your daughter Nanny put into your bag a +while ago? I wish to know?” + +“Deed an its scarcely worth your while, Master Hycy,” replied the +mendicant; “but since you'd like to know, it was a pair of ould brogues, +and here they are,” he added, “if you wish to see them.” + +He laid down the bag as he spoke, and was proceeding to pull them out, +when Hycy, who felt angry with himself as well as ashamed at being +detected in such a beggarly and unbecoming act of espionage, turned +instantly back, after having vented several hearty curses upon the +unfortunate mendicant and his bags. + +As he approached the hall-door, however, he met Nanny crossing into the +kitchen-yard, and from the timid and hesitating glance she cast at +him, some vague suspicion again occurred, and he resolved to enter into +further conversation with her. It struck him that she had been watching +his interview with her father, and could not avoid yielding to the +impression which had returned so strongly upon him. + +“I saw your father, Nanny,” he said, in as significant and dry a tone as +possible. + +“Did you, sir?” said she; and he remarked that while uttering the words, +she again colored deeply and did not raise her eyes to his face. + +“Yes,” he replied; “but he did not bear out what you said--he had no +pair of shoes in his bag.” + +“Did you see what he had in it, Master Hycy?” + +“Why,” said he, “a--hem--a--a--I didn't look--but I'll tell you what, +Nanny, I think you look as if you were in possession of some secret. I +say so, and don't imagine you can for a moment impose upon me. I know +what your father had in his bag.” + +“Well then, if you do, sir,” she replied, “you know the saycrit.” + +“So there is a secret, then?” + +“So you say, Masther Hycy.” + +“Nanny,” he proceeded, “it occurs to me now that you never underwent a +formal examination about this robbery that took place in our house.” + +“That wasn't my fault,” she replied; “I mostly happened to be out.” + +“Well, but do you know anything about it?” + +“Not a thing--no more than yourself, Mr. Hycy.” + +Her interrogator turned upon her a hard scrutinizing glance, in which +it was easy to see that she read a spirit of strong and dissatisfied +suspicion. She was evidently conscious of this; for as Hycy stood gazing +upon her, she reddened, and betrayed unequivocal symptons of confusion. + +“Because, Nanny,” he proceeded, “if you knew anything about it, and +didn't mention it at once to the family, you would be considered as one +of the robbers.” + +“An' wouldn't I be nearly as bad if I didn't?” she replied; “surely the +first thing I'd do would be to tell.” + +“It's very strange,” observed Hycy, “that such a robbery could be +committed in a house where there are so many servants, without any clue +whatsoever to a discovery.” + +“Well, I don't agree with you there, Mr. Hycy--if what your father and +mother an' all o' them say is true--that it wasn't often the hall-door +was bolted at night; and that they can't say whether it was fastened on +that night or not. Sure if it wasn't, there was nothing to prevent any +one from comin' in.” + +“Very true, Nanny,” he replied, “very true; and we have paid severely +for our negligence.” + +This closed the conversation, but Hycy felt that, proceed from whatever +source it might, it was impossible to dismiss certain vague suspicions +as connected with the mendicant's daughter. He determined, however, +to watch her narrowly; and somehow he could not divest himself of the +impression that she saw through his design. This incident occurred a few +days after the robbery. + +Jemmy Burke, though in many respects a man of easy and indolent +character, was nevertheless a person who, as is familiarly! said, +“always keep an eye to the main chance.” He was by no means over-tidy +either in his dress or farming; but it mattered little in what light you +contemplated him, you were always certain to find him a man not affected +by trifles, nor rigidly systematic in anything; but at the same time you +could not help observing that he was a man of strong points, whose life +was marked by a course of high prosperity, that seemed to flow in +upon him, as it were, by some peculiar run of good fortune. This luck, +however, was little less than the natural result of shrewd mother-wit, +happily applied to the: ordinary transactions of life, and assuming the +appearance of good fortune rather than of sound judgment, in consequence +of the simplicity of character under which it acted. Ever since the +night of the robbery, he had devoted himself more to the pipe than he +had ever been known to do before; he spoke little, too; but what he did +say was: ironical, though not by any means without a tinge of quiet but +caustic humor. + +Hycy, on entering the parlor, found him! seated in an arm-chair, smoking +as usual, whilst his mother, who soon came down stairs, appeared dressed +in more than her usual finery. + +“What keeps Patsy Dolan wid the car?” she inquired. “Hycy, do you see +any appearance of him?” + +“No, ma'am,” replied the son; “I didn't know you wanted him.” + +Jemmy looked at her with a good deal of surprise, and, after whiffing +away the smoke, asked--“And well, Rosha--begs pardon--Mrs. Burke--is it +a fair question to ax where you are bound for?” + +“Fair enough, Mr. Burke,” she replied; “but I'm not goin' to answer it.” + +“You're bound for a journey, ma'am, I think?” + +“I'm bound for a journey, sir.” + +“Is it a long journey, Mrs. Burke?” + +“No, indeed; it's a short journey, Mister Burke.” + +“Ah!” replied her husband, uttering a very significant groan; “I'm +afraid it is.” + +“Why do you groan, Mr. Burke?” + +“Oh it doesn't signify,” he replied, dryly; “it's no novelty, I believe, +to hear a man--a married man--groan in this world; only if you wor for +a long journey, I'd be glad to give you every assistance in my power.” + +“You hear that, Hycy; there's affection?” she exclaimed--“wishin' me to +go my long journey!” + +“Would you marry again, Mr. Burke?” asked the worthy son. + +“I think not,” replied Jemmy. “There's gintlemen enough o' the name--I'm +afraid one too many.” + +“Well,” exclaimed his wife, assuming something as near to her conception +of the look of a martyr as possible, “I'm sufferin' at all events; but +I know my crown's before me.” + +“Sich as it is,” replied her husband, “I dare say it is.” + +“I'll not be back for a few hours, Hycy; an'--but here's the car. Come +fardher up, Patsy.” + +Hycy politely handed his mother out, and assisted her on the car. “Of +course, he'll discover it all,” said he, laughing. + +“I know he will,” she replied; “but when it's over, it's over, and +that's all.” + +Jemmy now met his son at the hall-door, and asked him if he knew where +his mother had gone. + +“I really cannot undertake to say,” replied the other. “Mrs. Burke, +father, is a competent judge of her own notions; but I presume to think +that she may take a drive upon her own car, without being so severely, +if not ungenerously catechised about it. I presume to think so, sir; but +I daresay I am wrong, and that even that is a crime on my part.” + +His father made no reply, but proceeded at an easy and thoughtful pace +to join his men in the field where they were at labor. + +Hycy, after his mother's return that evening, seemed rather in low +spirits, if one could form any correct estimate of his character by +appearances. He was very silent, and somewhat less given to those broken +snatches of melody than was his wont; and yet a close observer might +have read in his deportment, and especially in the peculiar expression +of his eye, that which seemed to indicate anything rather than +depression or gloom. His silence, to such an observer, might have +appeared rather the silence of satisfaction and triumph, than of +disappointment or vexation. + +His father, indeed, saw little of him that night, in consequence of the +honest man having preferred the hob of his wealthy and spacious kitchen +to the society of his wife and son in the parlor. The next morning, +however, they met at breakfast, as usual, when Hycy, after some ironical +compliments to his father's good taste, asked him, “if he would do him +the favor to step towards the stable and see his purchase.” + +“You don't mane Crazy Jane?” said the other, coolly. + +“I do,” replied Hycy; “and as I set a high value on your opinion, +perhaps you would be kind enough to say what you think of her.” + +Now, Hycy never for a moment dreamt that his father would have taken him +at his word, and we need hardly say that he was a good deal disconcerted +at the cool manner in which the other expressed his readiness to do so. + +“Well, Mr. Burke,” he proceeded, when they had reached the stable, +“there she is. Pray what do you think of her?” + +The old man looked at her from various points, passed his hand down +her limbs, clapped her on the back, felt her in different places, then +looked at her again. “She's a beauty,” said he, “a born beauty like +Billy Neelin's foal; what's this you say you paid for her?” + +“Thirty-five pounds.” + +“Tare-an-ounty, Hycy, she's dog chape--thirty-five!--why she's value for +double the sum.” + +“Nearly,” replied Hycy, quite elevated and; getting into good humor; “is +she not really now, father, a precious bit of flesh?” + +“Ah! you may swear that, Hycy; I tell you you won't act the honest man, +if you don't give him fifteen or twenty pounds over an' above what you +paid him. Tom Burton I see's too simple for you. Go and do what I bid +you; don't defraud the poor man; you have got a treasure, I tell you--a +beauty bright--an extraordinary baste--a wonderful animal--oh, dear me! +what a great purchase! Good-bye, Hycy. Bless my sowl! what a judge of +horseflesh you are!” + +Having uttered these words in a tone of grave and caustic irony, he left +his worthy son in a state of chagrin almost bordering on resentment, at +the strong contempt for Crazy-Jane, implied by the excessive eulogium +he had passed upon her. This feeling, however, was on reflection +considerably checked by his satisfaction on finding that the matter was +taken by his father so coolly. He had calculated on receiving a very +stormy lecture from him the moment he should become aware of his having +the animal in his possession; and he now felt rather relieved that +he should have escaped so easily. Be this as it may, Hycy was now in +excellent spirits. Not only had Crazy Jane been secured, but there were +strong symptoms of his being in cash. In a few days after the incident +of the stable, he contrived to see Philip Hogan, with whom he appointed +a final meeting in Cavanagh's kiln on the night of the Kemp; at which +meeting, Teddy Phats and the other two Hogans were also to be present, +in order to determine upon the steps which he ultimately proposed to +take, with a view to work out his purposes, whatever those purposes may +have been. + + + + +CHAPTER VII.--The Spinster's Kemp. + + +A kemp, or camp, is a contest of industrial skill, or a competition +for priority in a display of rustic labor. Among men it is principally +resorted to in planting potatoes or reaping of corn, and generally only +on the day which closes the labor at each for the season; but in the +sense in which it is most usually practised and contested, it means a +trial of female skill at the spinning of linen yarn. It is, indeed, +a very cheerful assemblage of the fair sex; and, although strong and +desperate rivalry is the order of the day, yet it is conducted in +a spirit so light-hearted and amicable that we scarcely know a more +laudable or delightful recreation in country life. Its object is always +good, and its associations praiseworthy, inasmuch as they promote +industry, a spirit of becoming emulation, and principles of good will +and kindness to our neighbor. + +When a kemp is about to be held, the matter soon becomes generally known +in the neighborhood. Sometimes the young women are asked, but in +most instances, so eager are they to attend it that invitations are +unnecessary. In the whiter months, and in mountain districts, it is +often as picturesque as it is pleasant. The young women usually begin +to assemble about four o'clock in the morning; and, as they always go in +groups, accompanied besides by their sweethearts or some male relatives, +each of the latter bearing a large torch of well-dried bogfir, their +voices, and songs, and loud laughter break upon the stillness of +night with a holiday feeling, made ten times more delightful by the +surrounding darkness and the hour. When they have not the torches the +spinning-wheels are carried by the males, amidst an agreeable din of +fun, banter, repartee, and jest, such as scarcely any other rustic +amusement with which we are acquainted ever occasions. On arriving at +the house where the kemp is to be held, they are placed in the barn or +some clean outhouse; but indeed the numbers are usually such as to crowd +every available place that can be procured for their accommodation. From +the moment they arrive the lively din is incessant. Nothing is heard but +laughter, conversation, songs, and anecdotes, all rising in a loud key, +among the louder humming of the spinning-wheels and the stridulous noise +of the reeds, as they incessantly crack the cuts in the hands of the +reelers, who are perpetually turning them from morning to night, in +order to ascertain the quantity which every competitor has spun; and +she, of course, who has spun most wins the kemp, and is the queen for +the night. + +A kemp invariably closes with a dance--and a dance too upon an unusually +extensive scale. Indeed, during the whole day the fair competitors are +regaled from time to time with the enlivening strains of the fiddle or +bagpipes, and very often with the united melody of both together. + +On that morning the dwelling-house and mostly all the out-offices of +Gerald Cavanagh bore, in stir and bustle, a stronger resemblance to the +activity of so many bee-hives about to swarm than to anything else +to which we can think of comparing them. Mirth in all its shapes, of +laughter, glee, and song, rang out in every direction. The booming +of wheels and the creaking of reels, the loud banter, the peals of +laughter, the sweet Irish songs that filled up the pauses of the louder +mirth, and the strains of the fiddle that ever and anon added to the +enlivening spirit of the scene, all constituted such a full and general +chorus of hilarity as could seldom be witnessed. + +There were many girls present who took no part in the competition, but +who, as friends and acquaintances of Kathleen and Hanna, came to enjoy +the festive spirit of the day. Hanna herself, however, who had earned +some celebrity as a spinster, started for the honor of winning, as did +Dora M'Mahon, whose small and beautiful fingers seemed admirably adapted +for this graceful and peculiarly feminine process of Minerva. Towards +evening the neighbors assembled in considerable numbers, each interested +in the success of some peculiar favorite, whose former feats had induced +her friends to entertain on her behalf strong, if not certain, hopes of +victory. Kathleen, from a principle of generosity, patronized her young +friend, Dora M'Mahon; and Shibby M'Mahon, on the other hand, took +Hanna Cavanagh under her protection. As the evening advanced, and the +spectators and friends of the parties began to call, in order to be +present at the moment of victory, it would be difficult to witness any +assemblage of young women placed under circumstances of such striking +interest. The mirth and song and general murmur diminished by degrees, +until they altogether ceased, and. nothing was to be heard but the +perpetual cracking of the reels, the hum of the rapid wheels, and the +voices of the reelers, as they proclaimed the state of this enlivening +pool of industry. As for the fair competitors themselves, it might have +been observed that even those among them who had no, or at least but +slight pretensions to beauty, became actually interesting from the +excitement which prevailed. Their eyes lit by the active spirit of +rivalry within them, sparkled with peculiar brilliancy, their cheeks +became flushed or got pale as they felt themselves elevated or depressed +by the prospect or loss of victory. Nor were there wanting on this +occasion some vivid glances that were burthened, as they passed aslant, +their fair faces, with pithier feelings than those that originated from +a simple desire of victory. If truth must be told, baleful flashes, +unmeasured both in number and expression, were exchanged in a spirit +of true defiance between the interested and contending parties, as the +close of the contest approached. At length, by the proclamation of the +reelers, the great body of the competitors were thrown out, and they +consequently gave up the contest. It was now six o'clock, and the +first sound of seven o'clock by Captain Millar's bell was to close the +proceedings, and enable the reelers to proclaim the victor. Only four +names now remained to battle it out to the last; to wit, a country +farmer's daughter, named Betty Aikins, Dora M'Mahon, Hanna Cavanagh, and +a servant-girl belonging to another neighbor, named Peggy Bailly. This +ruck, as they say on the turf, was pretty well up together, but all +the rest nowhere. And now, to continue the metaphor, as is the case +at Goodwood or the Curragh, the whole interest was centered upon these +four. At the commencement of the last hour the state of the case was +proclaimed as follows: Betty Aikins, three dozen and eight cuts; Dora +M'Mahon, three dozen and seven cuts; Hanna Cavanagh, three dozen and +five cuts; and Peggy Bailly, three dozen and four cuts. Every individual +had now her own party anxious for her success, and amidst this hour of +interest how many hearts beat with all hopes and fears that are incident +even to the most circumscribed contest of human life. Opposite Dora +stood the youth whom we have already noticed, James Cavanagh, whose +salvation seemed but a very trifling thing when compared or put into +opposition with her success. Be this as it may, the moment was a most +exciting one even to those who felt no other interest than that which +naturally arises from human competition. And it was unquestionably +a beautiful thing to witness this particular contest between, four +youthful and industrious young women. Dora's otherwise pale and placid +features were now mantling, and her beautiful dark eyes flashing, +under the proud and ardent spirit of ambition, for such in fact was the +principle which now urged and animated the contest. When nearly half an +hour had passed, Kathleen came behind her, and stooping down, whispered, +“Dora, don't turn your wheel so quickly: you move the, foot-board too +fast--don't twist the thread too much, and you'll let down more.” + +Dora smiled and looked up to her with a grateful and flashing eye. +“Thank you, Kathleen,” she replied, nodding, “I'll take your advice.” + The state of the contest was then proclaimed:--Betty Aikins--three dozen +and ten cuts; Dora M'Mahon--three dozen and ten cuts; Hanna Cavanagh +--three dozen, six cuts and a half; Peggy Bailly--three dozen, five and +a half. + +On hearing this, Betty Aikin's cheek became scarlet, and as it is +useless to disguise the fact, several flashing glances that partook +more of a Penthesilean fire than the fearful spirit which usually +characterizes the industrious pursuits of Minerva, were shot at generous +Dora, who sustained her portion of the contest with singular spirit and +temper. + +“You may as well give it up, Dora M'Mahon,” exclaimed Betty; “there +never was one of your blood could open against an Aikins--the stuff is +not in you to beat me.” + +“A very little time will soon tell that,” replied Dora; “but indeed, +Betty, if I am doin' my best to win the kemp, I hope it's not in a bad +or unfriendly spirit, but in one of fair play and good humor.” + +The contest now went on for about fifteen minutes, with surpassing +interest and animation, at the expiration of which period, the seven +o'clock bell already alluded to, rang the hour for closing their labors +and determining the victory. Thus stood their relative position--Dora +M'Mahon, four hanks and three cuts; Betty Aikins, four hanks; Hanna +Cavanagh, three hanks and nine cuts; Peggy Bailly, three hanks and eight +cuts. + +When this result was made known, Betty Aikins burst into a loud fit +of grief, in which she sobbed as if her very heart would break, and +Kathleen stooping down, congratulated the beautiful girl upon her +victory, kissing her at the same time as she spoke--an act of love and +kindness in which she would have joyfully been followed by several of +her male friends, if they had dared to take that delicious liberty. + +The moment of victory, we believe, is that which may be relied upon as +the test of true greatness. Dora M'Mahon felt the pride of that moment +in its fullest extent, but she felt it only to influence her better and +nobler principles. After casting her eyes around to gather in, as it +were, that honest approbation which is so natural, and exchanging some +rapid glances with the youth we have alluded to, she went over to her +defeated competitor, and taking her hand said, “Don't cry, Betty, you +have no right to be ashamed; sure, as you say, it's the first time you +wor ever beaten; we couldn't all win; an' indeed if I feel proud +now, everyone knows an' says I have a right to be so; for where was +there--ay, or where is there--such a spinner as you are? + +“Shake hands now an' there's a kiss for you. If I won this kemp, it was +won more by chance than by anything else.” + +These generous expressions were not lost on Betty; on the contrary, they +soothed her so much that she gave her hand cordially to her young and +interesting conqueress, after which they all repaired to a supper of new +milk and flummery, than which there is nothing more delicious within the +wide range of luxury. This agreeable meal being over, they repaired to +the large barn where Mickey M'Grory the fiddler, was installed in his +own peculiar orchestra, consisting of an arm-chair of old Irish oak, +brought out from Gerald Cavanagh's parlor. + +It would indeed be difficult to find together such a group of happy +faces. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, Tom M'Mahon and his better +half, and several of the neighbors, of every age and creed, were all +assembled; and, in this instance, neither gray hairs nor length of years +were looked upon as privileged from a participation in the festivities +of the evening. Among the rest, gaunt and grim, were the three Hogans, +looking through the light-hearted assemblage with the dark and sinister +visages of thorough ruffians, who were altogether incapable of joining +in the cheerful and inoffensive amusements that went forward around +them. Kate Hogan sat in an obscure corner behind the fiddler, where +she was scarcely visible, but from which she enjoyed a full view of +everything that occurred in the house. + +A shebeen-man, named Parra Bradagh, father to Barney, whom the reader +has already met in the still-house, brought a cask of poteen to the +stable, where he disposed of it _sub silentio_, by which we mean without +the knowledge of Gerald Cavanagh, who would not have suffered any such +person about his place, had the circumstance been made known to him. +Among the rest, in the course of the evening, our friend O'Finigan the +Philomath made his appearance, and as was his wont very considerably +advanced in liquor. The worthy pedagogue, on inquiring for the queen +of the kemp, as he styled her, was told that he might know her by the +flowers in her hair. “There she is, masther,” said one of them, “wid the +roses on her head.” + +“Well,” said O'Finigan, looking about him with surprise, “I have, before +now, indulged in the Cerelian juice until my eyes have become possessed +of that equivocal quality called the double vision, but I must confess +that this is the first occasion on which the quality aforesaid has been +quadrupled. Instead of one queen, wid Flora's fragrant favors in her +lock, I think I see four.” + +Finigan indeed was right. Dora, on being presented with a simple chaplet +of flowers, as the heroine of the night, in a spirit of true magnanimity +generously divided the chaplet among her three rivals, thus, like every +brave heart, resting satisfied with the consciousness of victory, and +anxious that those who had approached her so nearly should also share in +its honors. + +It is not our intention to enter into a detailed account of the dancing, +nor of the good humor which prevailed among them. It is enough to say +that the old people performed minuets and cotillions, and the young +folks, jigs, reels, and country dances; hornpipes were performed upon +doors, by rural dancers, and all the usual variations of mirth and +amusement were indulged in on the occasion. + +We have said that Tom M'Mahon and his family were there, but we should +have added, with one exception. Bryan did not arrive until the evening +was far advanced, having been prevented by pressing business connected +with his farm. On making his appearance, he was greeted by a murmur of +welcomes, and many an honest hand was extended to him. Up until then +there were two individuals who observed Kathleen Cavanagh closely, and +we must ourselves admit that both came to the same conclusion. Its was +clear that during the whole evening she had been unusually pensive, +if not actually depressed, although a general observer would have seen +nothing in her beyond the natural sedateness of her manner. The two in +question were Kate Hogan and Dora M'Mahon. On Bryan's arrival, however, +the color of her cheek deeped into a richer beauty, the eye became more +sparkling, and a much slighter jest than before moved her into mirth. +Such, however, we are, and such is the mystery of our nature. It might +have been remarked that the Hogans eyed Bryan, soon after making his +appearance, with glances expressive of anything but good feeling. It was +not, however, when he first arrived, or danced with Hanna Cavanagh, that +these boding glances were turned upon him, but on the occasion of his +performing a reel with Kathleen. It might have been noticed that they +looked at him, and afterwards at each other, in a manner that could +admit of but little misapprehension. + +“Philip,” observed Finigan, addressing the elder Hogan,--“Philip, +the Macedonian--monarch of Macedon, I say, is not that performance +a beautiful specimen of the saltatory art? There is manly beauty, O +Philip! and modest carriage. + + “'With aquil beauty formed, and aquil grace, + Hers the soft blushes of the opening morn, + And his the radiance of the risen day.'” + +“It's night now, misther, if you plaise,” returned Hogan, gruffly; +“but we don't want your opinion here--stick to your pothooks and +hangers--keep to your trade.” + +“The _pot-hooks_ and _hangers_ are more _tui generis_, you misbegotten +satyr,” replied the schoolmaster; “that is, more appropriately +concatenated with your own trade than wid mine. I have no trade, sirra, +but a profession, and neither have you. You stand in the same degraded +ratio to a tradesman that a rascally quack does to a regular surgeon.” + +“You had better keep a civil tongue in jour head,” replied Hogan, +nettled at the laughter which the schoolmaster raised at his expense. + +“What! a civil tongue for you! Polite language for a rascally +sotherer of ould skillets and other anonymous utensils. Why, what +are you?--firstly, a general violation of the ten commandments; and, +secondly, a misshapen but faithful impersonation of the seven deadly +sins. Take my word for it, my worthy Macedonian, you will die any death +but a horizontal one--it's veracity I'm telling you. Yet there is some +comfort for you too--some comfort, I say again; for you who never lived +one upright hour will die an upright death. A certain official will +erect a perpendicular with you; but for that touck of Mathematics you +must go to the hangman, at whose hands you will have to receive the +rites of your church, you monstrous bog-trotting Gorgon. Mine a trade! +Shades of Academus, am I to bear this!” + +Finigan was, like most of his class, a privileged man; but on this +occasion the loudness of the mirth prevented Hogan's reply from being +heard. As to violence, nobody that knew the poor pedagogue could ever +dream of using it towards him, and there is little doubt that the +consciousness of this caused him to give his tongue a license when +provoked, which he otherwise would not have dared to venture upon. +When he first made his appearance he was so far advanced in liquor as +scarcely to be able to stand, and it was quite evident that the heat of +the crowded house by no means improved him. + +In about a quarter of an hour after Bryan and Kathleen had danced, the +good people of the kemp were honored by the appearance of Hycy Burke +among them--not in his jockey dress, but in a tight-fitting suit, that +set off his exceedingly well-made person to great advantage. In +fact, Hycy was a young fellow of a remarkably handsome face, full +of liveliness and apparent good humor, and a figure that was nearly +perfect. He addressed the persons present with an air of easy +condescension, and went over immediately and shook hands, in a very +cordial manner, with Gerald Cavanagh and his wife, after which he turned +round and bowed to the daughters. He then addressed Bryan, beside whom +Kathleen was sitting. + +“Bryan,” said he, “there will be mistakes in the best of families. I +hate enmity. How, do you do?” + +Bryan nodded, and replied, “Pretty well, Hycy--how are you?” + +Cavanagh and his wife were evidently quite delighted to see him; the +good man rose and made him take his own seat, and Mrs. Cavanagh paid him +every conceivable mark of attention. + +“Mrs. Cavanagh,” said he, after some chat, “may I be permitted to +indulge in the felicity of a dance with Miss Cavanagh?” + +“Which of them?” asked the mother, and then added, without waiting for a +reply--“to be sure you may.” + +“The felicity of a dance! that was well expressed, Mr. Hycy; but it +was not for nothing that you broke grammatical ground under Patricius +Finigan--ah, no; the early indoctrinations will tell;--that is clear.” + +“I mean Miss Kathleen,” replied Hycy, without paying any attention to +Finigan's observations. + +“Why not?” exclaimed both; “of course you will--go over and bring her +out.” + +Hycy, approaching her, said, in his blandest and most persuasive manner, +“Miss Cavanagh, will you allow me the gratification of dancing a reel +with you?” + +“I'm obliged to you, Mr. Burke,” she replied gravely; “I have just +danced a reel with Bryan M'Mahon here, and I don't intend to dance any +more to-night.” + +“A simple reel?” said Hycy; “perhaps you will so far favor me? I shall +consider it as a favor, I assure you.” + +“Excuse me, Mr. Burke, but I won't dance any more to-night.” + +“That's hard,” he replied, “especially as I came all the way to have +that pleasure. Perhaps you will change your mind, Miss Cavanagh?” + +“I'm not in the habit of changing my mind, Mr. Burke,” she replied, “and +I don't see any reason why I should do so now. I say once for all that I +won't dance any more to-night.” + +“What is it,” asked the mother, on perceiving her hesitation; “won't she +dance wid you? Hut, tut, Kathleen, what nonsense is this? To be sure you +must dance wid Mr. Burke; don't take any refusal, Mr. Burke--is that all +you know about girls.--sure nineteen refusals is aquil to one consent. +Go over, Gerald, and make her dance wid him,” she added, turning to her +husband. + +“What's the matter, Kathleen, that you won't dance wid Mr. Hycy?” asked +the good man. + +“Because I have danced all I will dance to-night, father.” + +“Tut, nonsense, you foolish girl--it's proud you ought to be that he'd +ax you. Get up and dance a reel wid him.” + +Hanna, who knew her sister's resolution when once formed, immediately +came to her rescue. “Don't ask her, father,” she said; “the truth is, +that I believe she has a headache--however, I'll take her place--have +you any objection to me, Mr. Burke?” + +None in the world--he would be very happy--only he regretted that he +could not have that pleasure also with his sister. + +“Ah, Mr. Hycy--which is properly Hyacinthus,” said Finigan; “I am able +to perceive that Cupid declines to be propitious in that quarter, or +perhaps it's the _irae amantium_,---which is, on being rendered into +vernacularity, a falling out of lovers; and if so, do not despair; for +as certain as it is, it will be followed by that most delectable of +processes, the _redintegratio amoris_, or the renewing of love. In fact, +he is a little better than a tyro--an ignoramus, who doesn't quarrel at +least once a week, wid the fair object of his amorous inclinations, an' +that for the sake of the reconciliaitons.” + +Hycy and Hanna were now about to dance, when Philip Hogan came forward, +and, with an oath, declared that Kathleen must dance--“He wouldn't see +Mr. Burke insulted that way by any such airs--and by--she must dance. +Come,” said he, “what stuff is this--we'll see whether you or I is +strongest;” and as he spoke he seized her rudely by the arm, and was +about to pull her out on the floor. + +Bryan M'Mahon sprung to his feet. “Let her go, you ruffian,” he +exclaimed; “let her go this instant.” + +“No, I won't,” replied the savage; “an' not for you, at any rate. Come, +Miss Kathleen, out you'll go:--for you indeed,” he added, in a ferocious +parenthesis, looking at Bryan; “it's you that's the cause of all this. +Come, miss, dance you must.” + +The words were scarcely uttered when M'Mahon, by a single blow on the +neck, felled him like an ox, and in an instant the whole place was a +scene of wild commotion. The Hogans, however, at all times unpopular, +had no chance in an open affray on such an occasion as this. The feeling +that predominated was, that the ruffianly interference of Philip had +been justly punished; and ere many minutes the usual harmony, with the +exception of some threatening looks and ferocious under growls from the +Hogans, was restored. Hycy and Hanna then went on with their dance, and +when it was over, the schoolmaster rose to depart. + +“Mr. Burke,” said he, “you are and have the reputation of being a +perfect gentleman _homo factus ad unguem_--as has been said by the +learned little Roman, who, between you and me, was not overburthened +with an excess of morality. I take the liberty, jinteels, of wishing you +a good-night--_precor vobia prosperam noctem!_ Ah, I can do it yet; but +it wasn't for nothing that I practised the peripatetics in larned Kerry, +where the great O'Finigan is not yet forgotten. I shall now seek a +contiguous place of repose, until the consequences of some slight +bacchanalin libations on my part shall have dispersed themselves into +thin air.” + +He accordingly departed, but from the unsteadiness of his step it was +clear that, as he said, the place of his repose must be contiguous +indeed. Had he been conscious of his own motions it is not likely he +would have sought for repose in Cavanagh's kiln, then the habitation of +the Hogans. It was probably the fact of the door having been left open, +which was generally the case in summer, that induced him to enter--for +enter he did--ignorant, it is to be presumed, that the dwelling he +was about to enter was then inhabited by the Hogans, whom he very much +disrelished. + +The place was nearly waste, and had a very desolate look. Scattered +around, and littered upon shake-down beds of straw, some half dozen +young besmutted savages, male and female, lay stretched in all +positions, some north, others south, without order or decency, but all +seeming in that barbarous luxury which denotes strong animal health and +an utter disregard of cleanliness and bodily comfort. Over in one of the +corners lay three or four budgets, old iron skillets, hammers, lumps of +melted lead, broken pots, a quantity of cows' horns for spoons, wooden +dishes that required clasping, old kettles that wanted repair, a couple +of cast off Poteen Stills, and a new one half made--all of which were +visible by the light of a large log of bog-fir which lay burning in the +fire-place. On looking around him, he descended a flight of stone steps +that led to the fireplace or the kiln or opening in which the fuel used +to dry the grain was always burned. This corner, which was eight or ten +feet below the other portion of the floor, being, in general, during the +summer months filled with straw, received the drowsy pedagogue, who, in +a few minutes, was as sound asleep as any of them about him. + +Hycy, who was conscious of his good figure, danced two or three times +afterwards. + +Dora M'Mahon had the honor of being his partner, as had one or two of +the best looking girls present. At the close of the last dance he looked +significantly at the Hogans, and nodded towards the door; after which it +might have been observed, that they slunk out one at a time, followed in +a few minutes by Kate Hycy, after some further chat with Gerald Cavanagh +and his wife, threw half a crown to Mickey M'Grory, and in his usual +courteous phraseology, through which there always ran, by the way, a vein +of strong irony, he politely wished them all a good night. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII.--Anonymous Letter with a Name to It + +--Finigan's Dialogue with Hycy + + +The severest tax upon Hycy's powers of invention was, in consequence of +his habits of idleness, to find means of occupying his time. Sometimes, +it is true, he condescended to oversee the men while at work, but +there it was generally found that so far from keeping them to their +employment, he was a considerable drawback upon their industry. The +ordinary business of his life, however, was riding about the country, +and especially into the town of Ballymacan and home again. He was also a +regular attendant in all the neighboring fairs; and we may safely assert +that no race in the province ever came off without him. + +On the second day after his interview with Teddy Phats and the Hogans, +he was riding past the post-office, when he heard the window tapped, +and, on approaching, a letter was handed out to him, which on opening he +found to contain the following communication:-- + +“Worthy Mr. Hyacinthus-- + +“A friend unknown to you, but not altogether so to fame, and one. +whom no display of the subtlest ingenuity on behalf of your acute and +sagacious intellect could ever decypher through the medium of this +epistle, begs to convey to you a valuable portion of anonymous +information. When he says that he is not unknown to fame, the assertion, +as far as it goes, is pregnant wid veracity. Mark that I say, as far +as it goes, by which is meant the assertion as well as the fame of your +friend, the inditer of this significant epistle. Forty-eight square +miles of good sound fame your not inerudite correspondent can +conscientiously lay claim to; and although there is, with regret I admit +it, a considerable portion of the square superficies alluded to, waste +and uncultivated moor, yet I can say, wid that racy touch of genial and +expressive pride which distinguishes men of letters in general, that the +other portions of this fine district are inhabited by a multitudinity +of population in the highest degree creditable to the prolific powers +of the climate. 'Tisn't all as one, then, as that thistle-browsing +quadruped. Barney Heffeman, who presumes, in imitation of his betters, +to write Philomath after his name, and whose whole extent of literary +reputation is not more than two or three beggarly townlands, whom, by +the way, he is inoculating successfully wid his own ripe and flourishing +ignorance. No, sir; nor like Gusty Gibberish, or (as he has been most +facetiously christened by his Reverence, Father O'Flaherty) Demosthenes +M'Gosther, inasmuch as he is distinguished for an aisy and prodigal +superfluity of mere words, unsustained by intelligibility or meaning, +but who cannot claim in his own person a mile and a half of dacent +reputation. However, _quid multis_ Mr. Hyacinthus; 'tis no indoctrinated +or obscure scribe who now addresses you, and who does so from causes +that may be salutary to your own health and very gentlemanly fame, +according as you resave the same, not pretermitting interests involving, +probably, on your part, an abundant portion of pecuniarity. + +“In short, then, it has reached these ears, Mr. Hyacinthus, and between +you and me, they are not such a pair as, in consequence of their +longitudinity, can be copiously shaken, or which rise and fall according +to the will of the wearer; like those of the thistle-browser already +alluded to; it has reached them that you are about to substantiate a +a disreputable--excuse the phrase--co-partnership wid four of the most +ornamental villains on Hibernian earth, by which you must understand me +to mane that the villains aforesaid are not merely accomplished in all +the plain principles and practices of villainy, but finished off even +to its natest and most inganious decorations. Their whole life has been +most assiduously and successfully devoted to a general violation of the +ten commandments, as well as to the perpetual commission of the seven +deadly sins. Nay, the 'reserved cases' themselves can't escape them, and +it is well known that they wont rest satisfied wid the wide catalogue of +ordinary and general iniquity, but they must, by way of luxury, have a +lick at blasphemy, and some of the rarer vices, as often as they can, +for the villains are so fastidious that they won't put up wid +common wickedness like other people. I cannot, however, wid anything +approximating to a safe conscience, rest here. What I have said has +reference to the laws of God, but what I am about to enumerate relates +to the laws of man--to the laws of the land Wid respect, then, to them, +I do assure you, that although I myself look upon the violation of a +great number of the latter wid a very vanial squint, still, I say, I +do assure you that they have not left a single law made by Parliament +unfractured. They have gone over the whole statute-book several times, +and I believe are absolutely of opinion that the Parliament is doing +nothing. The most lynx-eyed investigator of old enactments could not +find one which has escaped them, for the villains are perfectly black +letter in that respect; and what is in proper keeping wid this, whenever +they hear of a new Act of Parliament they cannot rest either night or +day until they break it. And now for the inference: be on your +guard against this pandemonial squad. Whatever your object may be in +cultivating and keeping society wid them, theirs is to ruin you--fleece +was the word used--an I then to cut and run, leaving Mr. Hycy--the +acute, the penetrating, the accomplished--completely in the lurch. Be +influenced, then, by the amicitial admonitions of the inditer of this +correspondence. Become not a smuggler--forswear poteen. The Lord forgive +me, Mr. Hycy--no, I only wished to say forswear--not the poteen--but +any connection wid the illegal alembic from which it is distillated, +otherwise they will walk off wid the 'doublings,' or strong liquor, +leaving you nothing but the residuum or feints. Take a friend's advice, +therefore, and retrograde out of all society and connection wid the +villains I have described; or if you superciliously overlook this +warning, book it down as a fact that admits of no negation, that +you will be denuded of reputation, of honesty, and of any pecuniary +contingencies that you may happen to possess. This is a sincere advice +from + +“Your Anonymous Friend, + +“Patricius O'Finigan, Philomath.” + + +After perusing this characteristic production, Hycy paused for a little, +and felt it very probable that there might be some reasonable grounds +for its production, although he could scarcely understand upon what +motive these fellows should proceed to practice treachery towards him. +That they were without principle or honesty he was perfectly satisfied; +but he knew it was their interest to keep within bounds in all matters +connected with their employment, He laughed very heartily at Finigan's +blunder--for such it evidently was--in signing his name to a document +that he intended to be anonymous. + +“At all events,” thought he, “I will ride over to his 'seminary,' as he +calls it, and see what he can mean, or what his object is in sending me +such a warning.” + +He accordingly did so, and in some twenty minutes reached a small cabin +that stood about a couple of hundred yards from the high-road. A little +bridle way led to it, as did several minor pathways, each radiating +from a different direction. It was surrounded by four or five acres of +common, where the children played from twelve to one, at which hour +Mr. O'Finigan went to the house of some wealthy benefactor to dine. The +little village of Ballydruthy, at a short distance from which it stood, +was composed of a couple dozen dwelling-houses, a chapel, a small +grocer's and publican's, together with a Pound at the entrance, through +which ran a little stream necessary to enable the imprisoned cattle to +drink. + +On riding up to the school, Hycy, as he approached the door, heard his +own name repeated by at least two dozen voices. + +“Here's a gintleman, masther”--“It's Misther Hycy Burke, sir “--“It is, +bedad, sir, Hycy the sportheen--” + +“Him that rides the race, masther”--“Ay, an' he has on top-boots and +buckskins, an's as gran' as a gintleman--” + +“Silence!” said Finigan, “silence! I say; is this proper scholastic +decorum in the presence of a stranger? Industry and taciturnity, you +reptiles, or castigation shall result. Here, Paddy Sparable,” he +added, rising up--“here, you nailroad, assume my office, and rule +the establishment till I return; and, mark me, as the son of a nailer, +sirra, I expect that you will rule them with a rod of iron--ha! ha! ha!” + +“Ay, but Paddy Pancake's here to-day, sir, an' he's able to welt me; so +that's it's only leathered I'd get, sir, i' you plase.” + +“But have you no officers? Call in aid, I ordher you. Can't you make +Sam Scaddhan and Phiddher Mackleswig there two policeman get Pancake +down--flatten him--if he prove contumacious during my absence. Pancake, +mark me, obedience is your cue, or, if not, the castigator here is your +alternative; there it is, freshly cut--ripe and ready--and you are not +to be told, at this time o' day, what portion of your corpus will catch +it. Whish-h-h!--silence! I say. How do you do, Mr. Burke? I am proud of +a visit from you, sir; perhaps you would light down and examine a class. +My Greeks are all absent to-day; but I have a beautiful class o' Romans +in the Fourth Book of Virgil--immortal Maro. Do try them, Mr. Hycy; if +they don't do Dido's death in a truly congenial spirit I am no classic. +Of one thing I can assure you, that they ought; for I pledge my +reputation it is not the first time I've made them practice the Irish +cry over it. This, however, was but natural; for it is now well known to +the learned that, if Dido herself was not a fair Hibernian, she at least +spoke excellent Irish. Ah, Mr. Hycy,” he added, with a grin, “the birch +is the only pathetic switch growing! Will you come in, sir?” + +“No, thank you, Mr. Finigan; but perhaps you would have the goodness +to come out for a little;” and, as he spoke, he nodded towards the +public-house. “I know the boys will be quiet until you return.” + +“If they don't,” replied Finigan, “the alternative is in no shape +enigmatical. Mark what I've already said, gintlemen. Sparable, do you +keep a faithful journal of the delinquents; and observe that there are +offices of importance in this world besides flagellating erudition into +reptiles like you.” + +He then looked about him with an air of vast importance, and joined Hycy +on his way to the public-house. Having ordered in the worthy pedagogue's +favorite beverage, not forgetting something of the same kind for +himself, he addressed Finigan as follows:-- + +“Finigan, I received a devilish queer letter from you to-day--take your +liquor in the mean time--what did you mean by it?” + +“From me, Mr. Hycy--_nego_, I say--_pugnis et calc bu nego_.” + +“Come, come, you know you wrote me an anonymous letter, referring to +some ridiculous copartnership or other that I can neither make head nor +tail of. Tell me candidly what you meant.” + +“Very good, Mr. Burke; but sure I know of old that jocularity was always +your forte--even when laying in under my own instruction that sound +classical substratum on which the superstructure of your subsequent +knowledge was erected, you were always addicted to the facetious and the +fabulous--both of which you contrived to blend together with an ease and +volubility of language that could not be surpassed.” + +“That is all very well; but you need not deny that you wrote me the +letter. Let me ask you seriously, what was it you warned me against?” + +“_Propino tibi salulem_--here's to you. No, but let me ask you what you +are at, Mr. Hycy? You may have resaved an anonymous letter, but I am +ignorant why you should paternize it upon me.” + +“Why, because it has all the marks and tokens of you.” + +“Eh?--to what does that amount? Surely you know my handwriting?” + +“Perfectly; but this is disguised evidently.” + +“Faith,” said the other, laughing, “maybe the inditer of it was +disguised when he wrote it.” + +“It might be,” replied Hycy; “however, take your liquor, and in the mean +time I shall feel exceedingly obliged to you, Mr. Finigan, if you will +tell me the truth at once--whether you wrote it or whether you did +not?” + +“My response again is in the negative,” replied Finigan--“I disclaim it +altogether. I am not the scribe, you may rest assured of it, nor can I +say who is.” + +“Well, then,” said Hycy, “I find I must convict you yourself of the +fabulous at least; read that,” said he, placing the letter in his own +hands. “Like a true Irishman you signed your name unconsciously; and now +what have you to say for yourself?” + +“Simply,” replied the other, “that some knave, of most fictitious +imagination, has forged my name to it. No man can say that that is my +manuscription, Mr. Hycy.” These words he uttered with great coolness; +and Hycy, who was in many things a shrewd young fellow, deemed it better +to wait until the liquor, which was fast disappearing, should begin to +operate. At length, when about three-quarters of an hour had passed, he +resolved to attack his vanity. + +“Well, well, Finigan, as regards this letter, I must say I feel a good +deal disappointed.” + +“Why so, Mr. Hycy?” + +“Why, because I did not think there was any other man in the country who +could have written it.” + +“Eh? how is that now?” + +“Faith, it's very simple; the letter is written with surprising +ability--the language is beautiful--and the style, like the land of +Canaan, flowing with milk and honey. It is certainly a most uncommon +production.” + +“Now, seriously, do you think so? At all events, Mr. Hycy, it was +written by a friend of yours--that's a clear case.” + +“I think so; but what strikes me is its surprising ability; no wonder +the writer should say that he is not unknown to fame--he could not +possibly remain in obscurity.” + +“Mr. Hycy, your health--I remember when you were wid me you certainly +were _facile princeps_ for a ripe judgment, even in your rudiments; +so then, you are of opinion that the epistle in question has janius? +I think myself it is no everyday production; not I believe such as +the thistle-browser Heffernan, or Misther Demosthenes M'Gosther could +achieve--the one wid his mile and a half, and the other wid his three +townlands of reputation. No, sir, to the divil I pitch them both; they +could never indite such a document. Your health, Mr. Hycy--_propino +tibi_, I say; and you are right, _ille ego_--it's a a fact; I am the +man, sir--I acknowledge the charge.” + +This admission having been made, we need scarcely add that an +explanation was at at once given by Finigan of the motive which had +induced him to write the letter. + +“On laving the kemp,” said he, “and getting into the open air--_sub +diu_, Mr. Hycy--I felt a general liquidation of my whole bodily +strength, with a strong disposition to make short excursions to the +right or to the left rather than hold my way straight a-head, with, I +must confess, an equal tendency to deposit my body on my mother earth +and enact the soporiferous. On passing Gerald Cavanagh's kiln, where +the Hogans kennel, I entered, and was greeted wid such a chorus of +sternutation as you might expect from a pigsty in midsummer, and made me +envy the unlicked young savages who indulged in it. At the period spoken +of neither you nor they had come in from the kemp. Even this is but a +dim recollection, and I remember nothing more until I overheard your +voice and theirs in dialogue as you were about to depart. After you +went, I heard the dialogue which I hinted at in the letter, between +Teddy Phats and them; and knowing my position and the misbegotten satyrs +by whom I was surrounded, I patiently waited until they were asleep, +when I quietly took my departure.” + +Burke could not help inferring from Finigan's manner, that he had +overheard a greater portion of their conversation on the occasion +alluded to than he seemed disposed to acknowledge. + +“Now, Finigan,” he said, “I feel disposed to place every confidence in +you. Will you answer candidly the question I am about to propose to you? +Did you hear Bryan M'Mahon's name mentioned?” + +“You say, Mr. Hycy,” replied Finigan, emptying his glass, “that you +would enthertain no apprehension in placing confidence in me?” + +“Not the slightest,” replied Hycy; “I believe you to be the very soul of +honor; and, besides, are you not my old master? As you say yourself, did +I not break grammatical ground, under you?” + +“The soul of honor,” replied the pedagogue, complacently--“that is +excellently said. Well, then, Mr. Burke, I shall not deal out my +confidence by beggarly instalments--I did hear Bryan M'Mahon's name +mentioned; and I heard a plan alluded to between you and them for +reducing him to--” + +“That was all humbug, Finigan, so far as I am concerned; but for the +present I am obliged to let them suppose what you allude to, in order +to keep them honest to myself if I can. You know they have a kind of +hereditary hatred against the M'Mahons; and if I did not allow them to +take their own way in this, I don't think I could depend on them.” + +“Well, there is raison in that too,” replied Finigan. + +“I am sure, Finigan,” proceeded Hycy, “that you are too honorable a man +to breathe either to Bryan M'Mahon or any one else, a single syllable +of the conversation which you overheard merely by accident. I say I +am certain you will never let it transpire, either by word of mouth or +writing. In me you may always calculate on finding a sincere friend; +and of this let me assure you, that your drink, if everything goes right +with us, won't cost you much--much! not a penny; if you had two throats +instead of one--as many necks as Hydra, we should supply them all.” + +“Give me your hand, Mr. Hycy--you are a gintleman, and I always said +would be one--I did, sir--I prognosticated as much years ago; and +sincerely felicitous am I that my prognostications have been verified +for so far. I said you would rise--that exaltation was before you--and +that your friends might not feel at all surprised at the elevated +position in which you will die. _Propino tibi_, again--and do not fear +that ever revelation of mine shall facilitate any catastrophe that may +await you.” + +Hycy looked keenly into the schoolmaster's face as he uttered the last +observation; but in the maudlin and collapsed features then before him +he could read nothing that intimated the sagacity of a double meaning. +This satisfied him; and after once more exacting from Finigan a pledge +of what he termed honorable confidence, he took his departure. + + + + +CHAPTER IX.--A Little Polities, Much Friendship, and Some Mystery + + +This communication determined Hycy to forego his intention for the +present, and he consequently allowed the summer and autumn to pass +without keeping up much intercourse with either Teddy Phats or the +Hogans. The truth is, that Burke, although apparently frank and candid, +was constitutionally cautious, and inclined a good deal to suspicion. +He feared that no project, the knowledge of which was held in common +with Finigan, could be long kept a secret; and for that reason he make +up his mind to postpone the matter, and allow it to die away out of the +schoolmaster's mind ere he bestowed any further attention upon it. In +the meantime, the state of the country was gradually assuming a worse +and more depressing character. The season was unfavorable; and although +we do not assert that many died of immediate famine, yet we know that +hundreds--nay, thousands--died from the consequences of scarcity and +destitution--or, in plainer words, from fever and other diseases induced +by bad and insufficient food, and an absence of the necessary comforts +of life. Indeed, at the period of our narrative, the position of Ireland +was very gloomy; but when, we may ask, has it been otherwise, within +the memory of man, or the records of history? Placed as the country was, +emigration went forward on an extensive scale,--emigration, too, of +that peculiar description which every day enfeebles and impoverishes +the country, by depriving her of all that approaches to anything like +a comfortable and independent yeomanry. This, indeed, is a kind of +depletion which no country can bear long; and, as it is, at the moment +we are writing this, progressing at a rate beyond all precedent, it will +not, we trust, be altogether uninteresting to inquire into some of the +causes that have occasioned it. Let not our readers apprehend, however, +that we are about to turn our fictitious narrative into a dissertation +on political economy. Of course the principle cause of emigration is the +poverty and depressed state of the country; and it follows naturally, +that whatever occasions our poverty will necessarily occasion +emigration. The first cause of our poverty then, is Absenteeism, which, +by drawing six or seven millions out of the country, deprives our people +of employment and means of life to that amount. The next is the general +inattention of Irish landlords to the state and condition of their +own property, and an inexcusable want of sympathy with their tenantry, +which, indeed, is only a corollary from the former; for it can hardly +be expected that those who wilfully neglect themselves will feel a +warm interest in others. The next is the evil of subletting, by which +property becomes overloaded with human beings, who, for the most part, +are bound by no ties whatsoever to the owner of the soil. He is +not their landlord, nor are they his tenants; and so far from their +interests being in any way reciprocal, they are actually adversative. +It is his interest to have them removed, and, as circumstances +unfortunately stand, it is theirs to remain, inasmuch as their +alternative is ruin since they have no place of shelter to receive them. + +Political corruption, in the shape of the forty-shilling franchise, was +another cause, and one of the very worst, which led to the prostration +of the country by poverty and moral degradation, and for this the +proprietors of the soil are solely responsible. Nor can the use of the +potato, as the staple food of the laboring classes, in connection with +the truck system, and the consequent absence of money payments, in +addition to the necessary ignorance of domestic and social comforts +that resulted from them, be left out of this wretched catalogue of our +grievances. Another cause of emigration is to be found in the high and +exorbitant rents at which land is held by all classes of farmers--with +some exceptions we admit, as in the case of old leases--but especially +by those who hold under middlemen, or on the principle of subletting +generally. By this system a vast deal of distress and petty but most +harrassing oppression is every day in active operation upon the property +of the head landlord, which he can never know, and for which he is in no +other way responsible unless by having ever permitted the existence of +it for any purpose whatsoever. + +In a country distracted like Ireland, it would be impossible to omit the +existence of political and religious animosity as a strong and prominent +cause of our wretched poverty, and consequently of emigration. The +priest, instead of leaving temporal affairs to temporal men, most +improperly mingles himself in the angry turmoils of politics, to which, +by his interference, he communicates a peculiar and characteristic +bitterness. The landlord, on the other hand, having his own interests to +consult, does not wish to arm a political opponent with such powers as +he knows will most assuredly be turned against himself, and consequently +often refuses to grant a lease unless to those who will pledge +themselves to support him. This state of things, involving, as it does, +much that is wrong on both sides, is, has been, and will be, a present +and permanent curse to the country--a curse, too, which, until there +is more of humanity and justice on the one side, and of education +and liberal feeling on the other, is not likely to disappear from the +country. + +Though last, not least, comes the unaccountable and guilty neglect of +our legislature (if we can call it ours) in everything that pertained to +Irish interests. This, together with its almost necessary consequence of +dishonest agitation on the one hand, and well founded dissatisfaction on +the other, nearly completes the series of the causes which have produced +the poverty of the country, and, as a direct result, the emigration of +all that is most comfortable, independent, and moral among us. + +This poverty, arising, as it does, from so many causes, has propagated +itself with a rapidity which is startling; for every one knows that +poverty is proverbially prolific. And yet it is a grievous anomaly to +reflect that a country so far steeped in misery and destitution as +to have nearly one-half of its population in a state of most pitiable +pauperism, possesses a soil capable of employing and maintaining three +times the number of its inhabitants. When the causes, however, which we +have just enumerated are seriously looked at and considered, we think +its extraordinary result is, after all, so very natural, that the wonder +would indeed be were the state of Ireland otherwise than it is. As +matters stand at present, and as they are likely to continue, unless +parliament shall interfere by a comprehensive measure of legislation, +we must only rest contented with seeing the industrious, moral, and +respectable portion of our countrymen abandoning the land of their +birth and affections, and nothing but the very dregs--degraded alike +by idleness and immorality--remaining behind to multiply and perpetuate +their own wretchedness and degradation. + +It has been often said, and with great truth, that no man is more +devotedly attached to his native soil than an Irishman; yet it may +reasonably be asked, how this principle of attachment can be reconciled +with the strong tendency to emigration which characterizes our people. +We reply, that the tendency in question is a proof of the love of honest +industry, enterprise, and independence, by which our countrymen, when +not degraded by neglect and poverty, are actuated. It is not of this +class, however so degraded, that we now speak. On the contrary we +take the decent and respectable farmer as the subject of our +illustration--the man who, loving his native fields as if they were of +his blood, would almost as soon part with the one as the other. This man +it is, who, with the most child-like tenderness of affection towards the +land on which he and his have lived for centuries, will, nevertheless, +the moment he finds himself on the decline, and with no cheering hope +of prosperity or encouragement before him or his family, resolutely +determine to forget everything but the noble duties which he owes +to himself and them. He sees clearly, from the unhappy state of +the country, and the utter want of sympathy and attention which he +experiences at the hands of those who ought to have his interests at +heart, that if he attempt to hold his position under circumstances so +depressing and unfavorable, he must gradually sink, until he and his +become mingled with the great mass of pauperism which lies lik a an +incubus upon the energies of the country. What, therefore, can possibly +prove more strongly than this that the Irishman who is not dragged into +the swamp of degradation, in which hope and energy are paralyzed, is +strongly and heroically characterized by I those virtues of industry and +enterprise that throw their lustre over social life? + +There are other and still more indefensible causes, however, which too +frequently drive the independent farmer out of the country. In too +many cases it happens that the rapacity and dishonesty of the agent, +countenanced or stimulated by the necessities and reckless extravagance +of the landlord, fall, like some unwholesome blight, upon that +enterprise and industry which would ultimately, if properly encouraged, +make the country prosperous and her landed proprietors independent men. +We allude to the nefarious and monstrous custom of ejecting tenants who +have made improvements, or, when permitted to remain, making them pay +for the improvements which they have made. A vast proportion of this +crying and oppressive evil must be laid directly to the charge of those +who fill the responsible situation of agents to property in Ireland, +than whom in general there does not exist, a more unscrupulous, +oppressive, arrogant, and dishonest class of men. Exceptions of course +there are, and many, but speaking of them as a body, we unhappily assert +nothing but what the condition of property, and of those who live upon +it, do at this moment and have for many a year testified. + +Several months had now elapsed, and although the M'Mahons had waited +upon the agent once or twice since the interview which we have already +described between him and Tom, yet there seemed no corresponding anxiety +on the part of Fethertonge to have the leases prepared or executed. This +neglect or reluctance did not occasion much uneasiness to the old man, +who was full of that generous and unsuspecting confidence that his +countrymen always repose in the promise of a landlord respecting a +lease, which they look upon, or did at least, as something absolutely +inviolable and sacred, as indeed it ought to be. Bryan, however, who, +although a young man, was not destitute of either observation or the +experience which it bestows, and who, moreover, had no disposition to +place unlimited confidence in Fethertonge, began to entertain some vague +suspicions with reference to the delay. Fethertonge, however, had not +the reputation of being a harsh man, or particularly unjust in his +dealings with the world; on the contrary, he was rather liked than +otherwise; for so soft was the melody of his voice, and so irresistible +the friendship and urbanity of his manner, that many persons felt as +much gratified by the refusal of a favor from him as they did at its +being granted by another. At length, towards the close of October, Bryan +himself told his father that he would, call upon the agent and urge him +to expedite the matter of the leases. “I don't know how it is,” said +he, “but some way or other I don't feel comfortable about this business: +Fethertonge is very civil and very dacent, and is well spoken of in +general; but for all that there's always a man here an' there that says +he's not to be depended on.” + +“Troth an' he is to be depended on,” said his generous father; “his +words isn't like the words of a desaver, and it isn't till he shows the +cloven foot that I'll ever give in that he's, dishonest.” + +“Well,” said Bryan, “I'm sure I for one hope you may be right; but, at +any rate, as he's at home now I'll start and see him.” + +“Do then,” said his father, “bekaise I know you're a favorite of his; +for he tould me so wid his own lips.” + +“Well,” replied the other, laughing, “I hope you're right there too; +I'm sure I have no objection;” and he accordingly set out to see +Fethertonge, but with something of an impression that the object of +his visit was not likely to be accomplished without difficulty, if +accomplished at all. + +On reaching the agent's house he met a thin, tall man, named Clinton, +with a hooked nose and sinister aspect, riding down the avenue, after +having paid Fethertonge a visit. This person was the gauger of the +district, a bachelor and a man of considerable wealth, got together, +it is suspected, by practices that were not well capable of bearing the +light. His family consisted of a niece and a nephew, the latter of whom +had recently become a bosom friend of the accomplished Hycy Burke, who, +it was whispered, began to look upon Miss Clinton with a partial eye. +Hycy had got acquainted with him at the Herringstown races, where +he, Hycy, rode and won a considerable sweepstakes; and as both young +gentlemen were pretty much of the same habits of life, a very warm +intimacy had, for some time past, subsisted between them. Clinton, to +whom M'Mahon was known, addressed him in a friendly manner, and, after +some chat, he laid the point of his whip gently upon Bryan's shoulder, +so as to engage his attention. + +“M'Mahon,” said he, “I am glad I have met you, and I trust our meeting +will be for your good. You have had a dispute with Hycy Burke?” + +“Why, sir,” replied Bryan, smiling, “if I had it wasn't such as it was +worth his while to talk about.” + +“Well, M'Mahon, that's generously said on your part--now, listen to me; +don't allow yourself to be drawn into any illegal or illicit proceedings +by any one, friend or foe--if so, you will only put yourself into the +power of your enemies; for enemies you have, I can assure you.” + +“They say, sir, there is no one without them,” replied Bryan, smiling; +“but so far as I am consarned, I don't exactly understand what you mane. +I have no connection with anything, either illegal or--or--wrong in any +way, Mr. Clinton, and if any one tould you so, they spoke an untruth.” + +“Ay, ay,” said Clinton, “that may be so, and I hope it is so; but you +know that it could not be expected you would admit it even if it be +true. Will you in the mean time, be guided by a friend? I respect your +father and his family; I respect yourself, M'Mahon; and, consequently, +my advice to you is--keep out of the meshes of the law--avoid violating +it--and remember you have enemies. Now think of these words, and so +good-bye, M'Mahon! Indeed, I am glad for your own sake I met +you--good-bye!” + +As he uttered the last words he dashed on and left Bryan in a state +of perfect amazement at the strange and incomprehensible nature of the +communication he had just received. Indeed, so full was his mind of the +circumstance, that forgetting all his suspicions of Fethertonge, and +urged by the ingenuous impulse of an honest heart, he could not prevent +himself in the surprise and agitation of the moment from detailing the +conversation which he had just had with the gauger. + +“That is singular enough,” said Fethertonge--“he named Hycy Burke, +then?” + +“He did, sir.” + +“It is singular,” proceeded the other, as if speaking to himself; “in +truth, my dear M'Mahon, we were talking about you, discussing, in fact, +the same subject not many minutes ago; and what you tell me now is only +an additional proof that Clinton, who is sometimes harshly spoken of by +the way, is a straightforward, honest man.” + +“What could he mane, sir?” asked Bryan, “I never had anything to do +contrary to the law--I haven't now, nor do I ever intend to have--” + +“Well, I'm sure I do not know,” replied the agent: “he made no illusion +of that kind to me, from a generous apprehension, I dare say, lest he +might injure you in my opinion. He only desired me not rashly to listen +to anything prejudicial to your character; for that you had enemies who +were laboring to injure you in some way--but how--he either would not +tell, or perhaps did not know. I am glad, however, he mentioned it; for +I shall be guarded should I hear anything to your prejudice.” + +“I tell you beforehand, sir,” said Bryan, with the conscious warmth +of rectitude, “and I think I ought to know best, that if you ever hear +anything against my honesty or want of principle, or if any one should +say that I will be consarned in what's contrary to either law or +justice, you'll hear a falsehood--I don't care who it comes from--and +the man who tells you so is a liar.” + +“I should be sorry to believe otherwise, my dear Bryan; it would grieve +me to be forced to believe otherwise. If you suffer yourself to be drawn +into anything wrong or improper, you will be the first individual +of your family that ever brought a stain upon it. It would grieve +me--deeply would it grieve me, to witness such a blot upon so +honest--but no, I will not, for I cannot suppose it.” + +Bryan, whose disposition was full of good-nature and cheerfulness, could +not help bursting into a hearty laugh, on reverting to the conversation +which he had with Clinton, and comparing it with that in which they were +now engaged; both of which were founded upon some soap-bubble charge of +which he knew nothing. + +“You take it lightly,” said Fethertonge, with something of a serious +expression; “but remember, my dear Bryan, that I now speak as one +interested in, and, in fact, representing the other members of your +family. Remember, at all events, you are forewarned, and, in the +meantime, I thank Clinton--although I certainly would not have mentioned +names. Bryan, you can have no objection that I should speak to your +father on this subject?” + +“Not the slightest, sir,” replied Bryan; “spake to any one you like +about it; but, putting that aside, sir, for the present--about these +leases?” + +“Why, what apprehension have you about them, Byran?” + +“No apprehension, sir, sartinly; but you know yourself, Mr. Fethertonge, +that to a man like me, that's layin' out and expendin' money every day +upon Adaharra farm, and my father the same way upon Carriglass--I say, +to a man like me, to be layin' out his money, when you know yourself +that if the present landlord should refuse to carry his father's dying +words into effect--or, as you said this minute yourself, sir, if some +enemy should turn you against me, amn't I and my father and the whole +family liable to be put out, notwithstanding all the improvements we've +made, and the money we've spent in makin' them?” + +“Bryan,” said Fethertonge, after a pause, “every word you say is +unfortunately too true--too true--and such things, are a disgrace to the +country; indeed, I believe, they seldom occur in any country but this. +Will it in the mean time satisfy you when I state that, if old Mr. +Chevydale's intentions are not carried into effect by his son, I shall +forthwith resign my agency?” + +Bryan's conscience, generous as he was, notwithstanding his suspicions, +smote him deeply on hearing this determination so unequivocally +expressed. Indeed the whole tenor of their dialogue, taken in at one +view--especially Fethertonge's intention of speaking to Tom M'Mahon upon +the mysterious subject of Bryan's suspected delinquencies against +the law--so thoroughly satisfied him of the injustice he had rendered +Fethertonge, that he was for a time silent. + +At length he replied--“That, sir, is more than we could expect; but +at any rate there's one thing I'm now sartin of--that, if we're +disappointed, you won't be the cause of it.” + +“Yes; but of course you must put disappointment out of the question. The +landlord, will, without any doubt, grant the leases--I am satisfied of +that; indeed, there can be no doubt about it. By the way, I am anxious +to see Ahadarra and to ascertain the extent to which you have carried +your improvements. Clinton and I will probably take a ride up there some +day soon; and in the meantime do you keep improving, M'Mahon, for that's +the secret of all success--leave the rest to me. How is your father?” + +“Never was better, sir, I'm thankful to you.” + +“And your grandfather? how does he bear up?” + +“Faith, sir, wonderfully, considering his age.” + +“He must be very old now?” + +“He's ninety-four, sir, and that's a long age sure enough; but I'm sorry +to say that my mother's health isn't so well.” + +“Why, what is the matter with her? I'm sorry to hear this.” + +“Indeed we can't say; she's very poorly--her appetite is gone--she has a +cough, an' she doesn't get her rest at night.” + +“Why don't you get medical advice?” + +“So we did, sir. Dr. Sexton's attendin' her; but I don't think somehow +that he has a good opinion of her.” + +“Sexton's a skilful man, and I don't think she could be in better hands; +however, Bryan, I shall feel obliged if you will send down occasionally +to let me know how she gets on--once a week or so.” + +“Indeed we will, sir, an' I needn't say how much we feel obliged to you +for your kindness and good wishes.” + +“It must be more than good wishes, Bryan; but I trust that she will +get better. In the meantime leave the other matters to me, and you may +expect Clinton and I up at your farm to look some of these days.” + +“God forgive me,” thought Bryan, as he left the hall-door, “for the +injustice I did him, by supposin' for one minute that he wasn't disposed +to act fairly towards us. My father was right; an' it was foolish of +me to put my wit against his age an' experience. Oh, no, that man's +honest--there can;t be any mistake about it.” + +From this topic he could not help reverting, as he pursued his way +home, to the hints he had received with respect to Hycy Burke's enemity +towards him, the cause of which he could not clearly understand. Hycy +Burke had, in general, the character of being a generous, dashing +young fellow, with no fault unless a disposition to gallantry and a +thoughtless inclination for extravagance; for such were the gentle +terms in which habits of seduction and an unscrupulous profligacy in +the expenditure of money were clothed by those who at once fleeced and +despised him, but who were numerous enough to impress those opinions +upon a great number of the people. In turning over matters as they stood +between them, he could trace Burke's enemity to no adequate cause; +nor indeed could he believe it possible that he entertained any such +inveterate feeling of hostility against him. They had of late frequently +met, on which occasion Hycy spoke to him with nearly as much cordiality +as ever. Still, however, he could not altogether free himself from +the conviction, that both Clinton and Fethertonge must have had +unquestionable grounds for the hints which they had in such a friendly +way thrown out to him. + +In this mood he was proceeding when he heard the noise of horses' feet +behind, and in a few minutes Hycy himself and young Clinton overtook him +at a rapid pace. Their conversation was friendly, as usual, when Bryan, +on seeing Hycy about to dash off at the same rapid rate, said, “If you +are not in a particular hurry, Hycy, I'd wish to have a word with you.” + +The latter immediately pulled up, exclaiming, “a word, Bryan! ay, a +hundred--certainly. Clinton, ride on a bit, will you? till I have some +conversation with M'Mahon. Well, Bryan?” + +“Hycy,” proceeded Bryan, “I always like to be aboveboard. Will you allow +me to ask if you have any bad feelings against me?” + +“Will you answer me another question?” replied Hycy. + +“If I can I will,” said Bryan. + +“Well, then,” replied Hycy, “I will answer you most candidly, Bryan--not +the slightest; but I do assure you that I thought you had such a feeling +against me.” + +“And you wor right, too,” returned Bryan “for I really had.” + +“I remember,” proceeded Hycy, “that when I asked you to lend me +thirty-five pounds--and by the way that reminds me that I am still +pretty deep in your debt--you would neither lend it nor give any +satisfactory reason why you refused me; now, what occasioned that +feeling, Bryan?” + +“It's by the merest chance that I happen to have the cause of it in my +pocket,” replied M'Mahon, who, as he spoke, handed him the letter which +Peety Dhu had delivered to him from Hycy himself. “Read that,” said he, +“and I think you'll have no great trouble in understanding why I felt +as I did;--an' indeed, Hycy, to tell you the truth, I never had the same +opinion of you since.” Hycy, to his utter amazement, read as follows: + +“My Dear Miss Cavanagh:-- + +“Will you permit little Cupid, the god of Love, to enrol the name of +Hycy Burke on the long list of your adorers? And if you could corrupt +the little stone-blind divinity to blot out every name on it but my own, +I should think that a very handsome anticipation of the joys of Paradise +could be realized by that delightful fact. I say anticipation--for my +creed is, that the actual joys of Paradise exist no where, but within +the celestial circle of your ambrosial arms. That is the Paradise which +I propose to win; and you may rest assured that I shall bring the most +flaming zeal, the most fervent devotion, and all the genuine piety of +a true worshipper, to the task of attaining it. I shall carry, for +instance, a little Bible of Love in my pocket--for I am already a +divinity student or a young collegian under little Cupid aforesaid--and +I will have it all dogeared with refreshing texts for my edification. +I should state, however, that I am, as every good Christian is, awfully +exclusive in my creed; and will suffer no one, if I can prevent it, to +approach the Paradise I speak of but myself. In fact I am as jealous as +the very Deuce--whoever that personage may be--quite an Othello in my +way--a perfect raw-head-and-bloody-bones--with a sharp appetite and +teeth like a Walrus, ready to bolt my rivals in dozens. It is said, +my divine creature, or rather it is hinted, that a certain clodhopping +boor, from the congenial wilds of Ahadarra, is favored by some benignant +glances from those lights of yours that do mislead the moon. I hope this +is not so--bow wow!--ho! ho!--I smell the blood of a rival; and be he +great or small, red or black, or of any color in the rainbow, I +shall have him for my. breakfast--ho! ho! You see now, my most divine +Kathleen, what a terrible animal to all rivals and competitors for your +affections I shall be; and that if it were only for their own sakes, and +to prevent carnage and cannibalism, it will be well for you to banish +them once and forever, and be content only with myself. + +“Seriously, my dear Kathleen, I believe I am half-crazed; and, if so, +you are the sole cause of it. I can think of no other object than your +beautiful self; and I need scarcely say, that I shall have neither peace +nor happiness unless I shall be fortunate enough to gain a place in your +tender bosom. As for the Ahadarra man, I am surprised you should think of +such an ignorant clodhopper--a fellow whose place Providence especially +allotted to between the stilts of a plough, and at the tail of a pair +of horses. Perhaps you would be kind enough to take a walk on Thursday +evening, somewhere near the river--where I hope I shall have an +opportunity of declaring my affection for you in person. At all events I +shall be there with the ardent expectation of meeting you. + +“Ever your devoted worshipper, + +“Hycy Burke. + +“P.S.--Beware the clodhopper--bow wow!--ho! ho!” + + +On looking at the back of this singular production he was thunderstruck +to perceive that it was addressed to “Mr. Bryan M'Mahon, Ahadarra”--the +fact being that, in the hurry of the moment, he had misdirected the +letters--Bryan M'Mahon having received that which had been intended for +Kathleen, who, on the contrary, was pressingly solicited to lend him +thirty-fine pounds in order to secure “Crazy Jane.” + +Having perused this precious production, Hycy, in spite of his chagrin, +was not able to control a most irresistible fit of laughter, in which he +indulged for some minutes. The mistake being now discovered in Bryan's +case was necessarily discovered in that of both, a circumstance which +to Hycy, who now fully understood the mature and consequences of his +blunder, was, as we have stated, the subject of extraordinary mirth, in +which, to tell the truth, Bryan could not prevent himself from joining +him. + +“Well, but after all, Bryan,” said he, “what is there in this letter +to make you angry with me? Don't you see it's a piece of humbug from +beginning to end.” + +“I do, and I did,” replied Bryan; “but at that time I had never spoken +upon the subject of love or marriage to Kathleen Cavanagh, and I had no +authority nor right to take any one to task on her account, but, at the +same time, I couldn't even then either like or respect, much less lend +money to, any man that could humbug her, or treat such a girl with +disrespect--and in that letther you can't deny that you did both.” + +“I grant,” said Hycy, “that it was a piece of humbug certainly, but not +intended to offend her.” + +“I'm afraid there was more in it, Hycy,” observed Bryan; “an' that if +she had been foolish or inexperienced enough to meet you or listen to +your discourse, it might a' been worse for herself. You were mistaken +there though.” + +“She is not a girl to be humbugged, I grant, Bryan--very far from it, +indeed; and now that you and she understand each other I will go farther +for both your sakes, and say, that I regret having written such a letter +to such an admirable young woman as she is. To tell you the truth, +Bryan, I shall half envy you the possession of such a wife.” + +“As to that,” replied the other, smiling, “we'll keep never minding--but +you have spoken fairly and honestly on the subject of the letther, +an' I'm thankful to you; still, Hycy, you haven't answered my first +question--have you any ill feeling against me, or any intention to +injure me?” + +“Neither one nor the other. I pledge you my honor and word I have no ill +feeling against you, nor any design to injure you.” + +“That's enough, Hycy,” replied his companion; “I think I'm bound to +believe your words.” + +“You are, Bryan; but will you allow me to ask if any one ever told you +that I had--and if so, who was the person?” + +“It's enough for you to know,” said Bryan, “that whoever told it to me I +don't believe it.” + +“I certainly have a right to know,” returned Hycy; “but as the matter +is false, and every way unfounded, I'll not press you upon it--all I can +say to satisfy you is, what I have said already--that I entertain no ill +will or unfriendly feeling towards you, and, consequently, can have no +earthly intention of doing you an injury even if I could, although at +the present moment I don't see how, even if I was willing.” + +“You have nothing particular that you'd wish to say to me?” + +“No: devil a syllable.” + +“Nor a proposal of any kind to make me?” + +Hycy pulled up his horse. + +“Bryan, my good friend, let me look at you,” he exclaimed. “Is it right +to have you at large? My word and honor I'm beginning to fear that +there's something wrong with your upper works.” + +“Never mind,” replied Bryan, laughing, “I'm satisfied--the thing's a +mistake--so there's my hand to you, Hycy. I've no suspicion of the kind +against you and it's all right.” + +“What proposal, in heaven's name, could I have to make to you?” + exclaimed Hycy.. + +“There now,” continued Bryan, “that'll do; didn't I say I was satisfied? +Move on, now and overtake your friend--by the way he's a fine horseman, +they say?” + +“Very few better,” said Hycy; “but some there are--and one I know--ha! +ha! ha! Good-bye, Bryan, and don't be made a fool of for nothing.” + +Bryan nodded and laughed, and Hycy dashed on to overtake his friend +Clinton. + +M'Mahon's way home lay by Gerald Cavanagh's house, near which as he +approached he saw Nanny Peety in close conversation with Kate Hogan. The +circumstance, knowing their relationship as he did, made no impression +whatsoever upon him, nor would he have bestowed a thought upon it, had +he been left to his own will in the matter. The women separated ere he +had come within three hundred yards of them; Kate, who had evidently +been convoying her niece a part of the way, having returned in the +direction of Cavanagh's, leaving Nanny to pursue her journey home, by +which she necessarily met M'Mahon. + +“Well, Nanny,” said the latter, “how are you?” + +“Faix, very well, I thank you, Bryan; how are all the family in +Carriglass?” + +“Barring my mother, they're all well, Nanny. I was glad to hear you +got so good a place, an' I'm still betther plaised to see you look so +well--for it's a proof that you feel comfortable in it.” + +“Why I can't complain,” she replied; “but you know there's no one widout +their throubles.” + +“Troubles, Nanny,” said Bryan, with surprise; “why surely, Nanny, +barrin' it's love, I don't see what trouble you can have.” + +“Well, and may be it is,” said the girl, smiling. + +“Oh, in that case,” replied Bryan, “I grant you're to be pitied; poor +thing, you look so ill and pale upon it, too. An' what is it like, +Nanny--this same love that's on you?” + +“Faix,” she replied, archly, “it's well for you that Miss Kathleen's not +to the fore or you daren't ax any one sich a question as that.” + +“Well done, Nanny,” he returned; “do you think she knows what it's +like?” + +“It's not me,” she replied again, “you ought to be axin' sich a question +from; if you don't know it I dunna who ought.” + +“Begad, you're sharp an' ready, Nanny,” replied Bryan, laughing; “well, +and how are you all in honest Jemmy Burke's?” + +“Some of us good, some of us bad, and some of us indifferent, but, thank +goodness, all in the best o' health.” + +“Good, bad, and indifferent,” replied Bryan, pausing a little. “Well, +now, Nanny, if one was to ask you who is the good in your family, what +would you say?” + +“Of coorse myself,” she returned; “an' stay--let me see--ay, the +masther, honest Jemmy, he and I have the goodness between us.” + +“And who's the indifferent, Nanny?” + +“Wait,” she replied; “yes--no doubt of it--if not worse--why the +mistress must come in for that, I think.” + +“And now for the bad, Nanny?” + +She shook her head before she spoke. “Ah,” she proceeded, “there would +be more in that house on the bad list than there is, if he, had his +way.” + +“If who had his way?” + +“Masther Hycy.” + +“Why is he the bad among you?” + +“Thank God I know him now,” she replied, “an' he knows I do; but he +doesn't know how well I know him.” + +“Why, Nanny, are you in airnest?” asked Bryan, a good deal surprised, +and not a little interested at what he heard, “surely I thought Mr. Hycy +a good-hearted, generous young fellow that one could depend upon, at all +events?” + +“Ah, it's little you know him,” she replied; “and I could”--she looked +at him and paused. + +“You could what?” he asked. + +“I could tell you something, but I daren't.” + +“Daren't; why what ought you be afraid of?” + +“It's no matther, I daren't an' thats enough; only aren't you an' +Kathleen Cavanagh goin' to be married?” + +“We will be married, I hope.” + +“Well, then, keep a sharp look-out, an take care her father an' mother +doesn't turn against you some o' these days. There a many a slip between +the cup and the lip; that's all I can say, an' more than I ought; an' if +you ever mention my name, its murdhered I'll be.” + +“An' how is Hycy consarned in this? or is he consarned in it?” + +“He is, an' he is not; I dursn't tell you more; but I'm not afraid of +him, so far from that, I could soon--but what am I sayin'? Good-bye, an' +as I said, keep a sharp lookout;” and having uttered these words, she +tripped on hastily and left him exceedingly surprised at what she had +said. + + + + +CHAPTER X.--More of the Hycy Correspondence + +A Family Debate--Honest Speculations. + + +Kathleen's refusal to dance, at the kemp, with Hycy Burke, drew down +upon her the loud and vehement indignation of her parents, both of +whom looked upon a matrimonial alliance with the Burkes as an object +exceedingly desirable, and such as would reflect considerable credit on +themselves. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife were certainly persons of +the strictest integrity and virtue. Kind, charitable, overflowing with +hospitality, and remarkable for the domestic virtues and affections +in an extraordinary degree, they were, notwithstanding, extremely +weak-minded, and almost silly, in consequence of an over-weening +anxiety to procure “great matches” for their children. Indeed it may be +observed, that natural affection frequently assumes this shape in the +paternal heart, nor is the vain ambition confined to the Irish peasant +alone. On the contrary, it may be seen as frequently, if not more so, in +the middle and higher classes, where it has ampler scope to work, than +in humbler and more virtuous life. It is this proud and ridiculous +principle which consigns youth, and beauty, and innocence, to the arms +of some dissipated profligate of rank, merely because he happens to +inherit a title which he disgraces. There is, we would wager, scarcely +an individual who knows the world, but is acquainted with some family +laboring under this insane anxiety for connection. Sometimes it is to +be found on the paternal side, but, like most of those senseless +inconsistencies which entail little else than ridicule or ruin, and +sometimes both, upon those who are the object of them, it is, for the +most part, a female attribute. + +Such as it is, however, our friend, Gerald Cavanagh, and his wife--who, +by the way, bore the domestic sceptre in all matters of importance--both +possessed it in all its amplitude and vigor. When the kemp had been +broken up that night, and the family assembled, Mrs. Cavanagh opened the +debate in an oration of great heat and bitterness, but sadly deficient +in moderation and logic. + +“What on earth could you mane, Kathleen,” she proceeded, “to refuse +dancin' wid such a young man--a gintleman I ought to say--as Hycy Burke, +the son of the wealthiest man in the whole parish, barring the gentry? +Where is the girl that wouldn't bounce at him?--that wouldn't lave +a single card unturned to secure him? Won't he have all his father's +wealth?--won't he have all his land when the ould man dies? and indeed +it's he that will live in jinteel style when he gets everything into +his own hands, as he ought to do, an' not go dhramin' an' dhromin' about +like his ould father, without bein' sartin whether he's alive or not. +He would be something for you, girl, something to turn out wid, an' +that one could feel proud out of; but indeed, Kathleen, as for pride +and decency, you never had as much o' them as you ought, nor do you hold +your head as high as many another girl in your place would do. Deed +and throth I'm vexed at you, and ashamed of you, to go for to hurt his +feelins as you did, widout either rhyme or raison.” + +“Troth,” said her father, taking up the argument where she left it, “I +dunno how I'll look the respectable young man in the face afther the way +you insulted him. Why on airth wouldn't you dance wid him?” + +“Because, father, I don't like him.” + +“An' why don't you like him?” asked her mother. “Where is there his +aquil for either face or figure in the parish, or the barony itself? +But I know the cause of it; you could dance with Bryan M'Mahon. But +take this with you--sorra ring ever Bryan M'Mahon will put on you wid +my consent or your father's, while there's any hope of Hycy Burke at any +rate.” + +Kathleen, during this long harangue, sat smiling and sedate, turning her +beautiful and brilliant eyes sometimes upon one parent, sometimes upon +another, and occasionally glancing with imperturbable sweetness and +good nature at her sister Hanna. At length, on getting an opportunity of +speaking, she replied,-- + +“Don't ask me, mother, to give anything in the way of encouragement to +Hycy Burke; don't ask me, I entrate you, for God's sake--the thing's +impossible, and I couldn't do it. I have no wish for his father's money, +nor any wish for the poor grandeur that you, mother dear, and my father, +seem to set your heart upon. I don't like Hycy Burke--I could never +like him; and rather than marry him, I declare solemnly to God, I would +prefer going into my grave.” + +As she uttered the last words, which she did with an earnestness that +startled them, her fine features became illuminated, as it were, with +a serene and brilliant solemnity of expression that was strikingly +impressive and beautiful. + +“Why couldn't you like him, now?” asked her father; “sure, as your +mother says, there's not his aquil for face or figure within many a mile +of him?” + +“But it's neither face nor figure that I look to most, father.” + +“Well, but think of his wealth, and the style he'll live in, I'll go +bail, when he gets married.” + +“That style maybe won't make his wife happy. No, father, it's neither +face, nor figure, nor style that I look to, but truth, pure affection, +and upright principle; now, I know that Hycy Burke has neither truth, +nor affection, nor principle; an' I wondher, besides, that you could +think of my ever marrying a man that has already destroyed the happiness +of two innocent girls, an' brought desolation, an' sorrow, an' shame +upon two happy families. Do you think that I will ever become the wife +of a profligate? An' is it you, father, an' still more you, mother, +that's a woman, that can urge me to think of joining my fate to that of +a man that has neither shame nor principle? I thought that if you didn't +respect decency an' truth, and a regard for what is right and proper, +that, at all events, you would respect the feelings of your child that +was taught their value.” + +Both parents felt somewhat abashed by the force of the truth and the +evident superiority of her character; but in a minute or two her worthy +father, from whose dogged obstinacy she inherited the firmness and +resolution for which she had ever been remarkable, again returned to the +subject. + +“If Hycy Burke was wild, Kathleen, so was many a good man before him; +an' that's no raison but he may turn out well yet, an' a credit to his +name, as I have no doubt he will. All that he did was only folly +an' indiscretion--we can't be too hard or uncharitable upon our +fellow-craytures.” + +“No,” chimed in her mother, “we can't. Doesn't all the world know that +a reformed rake makes a good husband?--an' besides, didn't them two +huzzies bring it on themselves?--why didn't they keep from him as they +ought? The fault, in such cases, is never all on one side.” + +Kathleen's brow and face and whole neck became crimson, as her mother, +in the worst spirit of a low and degrading ambition, uttered the +sentiments we have just written. Hanna had been all this time sitting +beside her, with one arm on her shoulder; but Kathleen, now turning +round, laid her face on her sister's bosom, and, with a pressure that +indicated shame and bitterness of heart, she wept. Hanna returned this +melancholy and distressing caress in the same mournful spirit, and both +wept together in silence. + +Gerald Cavanagh was the first who felt something like shame at the +rebuke conveyed by this tearful embrace of his pure-hearted and +ingenuous daughters, and he said, addressing his wife:-- + +“We're wrong to defend him, or any one, for the evil he has done, +bekaise it can't be defended; but, in the mane time, every day will +bring him more sense an' experience, an' he won't repute this work; +besides, a wife would settle him down.” + +“But, father,” said Hanna, now speaking for the first time, “there's +one thing that strikes me in the business you're talkin' about, an' it's +this--how do you know whether Hycy Burke has any notion, good, bad, or +indifferent, of marrying Kathleen?” + +“Why,” replied her mother, “didn't he write to her upon the subject?” + +“Why, indeed, mother, it's not an easy thing to answer that question,” + replied Hanna. “She sartinly resaved a letther from him, an' indeed, I +think,” she added, her animated face brightening into a smile, “that as +the boys is gone to bed, we had as good read it.” + +“No, Hanna, darling, don't,” said Kathleen--“I beg you won't read it.” + +“Well, but I beg I will,” she replied; “it'll show them, at any rate, +what kind of a reformation is likely to come over him. I have it here in +my pocket--ay, this is it. Now, father,” she proceeded, looking at the +letter, “here is a letter, sent to my sister--'To Miss Cavanagh,' that's +what's on the back of it--and what do you think Hycy, the sportheen, +asks her to do for him?” + +“Why, I suppose,” replied her mother, “to run away wid him?” + +“Na” + +“Then to give her consent to marry him?” said her father. + +“Both out,” replied Hanna; “no, indeed, but to lend him five-and-thirty +pounds to buy a mare, called Crazy Jane, belonging to Tom Burton, of the +Race Road!” + +“'My Dear Bryan--For heaven's sake, in addition to your other +generosities--for-which I acknowledge myself still in your debt--will +you lend me thirty-five pounds, to secure a beautiful mare belonging to +Tom Burton, of the Race Road? She is a perfect creature, and will, if I +am not quick, certainly slip through my fingers. Jemmy, the gentleman'-- + +“This is what he calls his father, you must know. + +“'Jemmy, the gentleman, has promised to stand to me some of these +days, and pay off all my transgressions, like a good, kind-hearted, +soft-headed old Trojan as he is; and, for this reason, I don't wish to +press him now. The mare is sold under peculiar circumstances; otherwise +I could have no chance of her at such a price. By the way, when did you +see Katsey'-- + +“Ay, Katsey!--think of that, now--doesn't he respect your daughter +very much, father? + +“'By the way, when did you see Katsey Cavanagh?--'” + +“What is this you're readin' to me?” asked her father. “You don't mean +to say that this letter is to Kathleen?” + +“Why, no; but so much the better--one has an opportunity now of seein' +what he is made of. The letter was intended for Bryan M'Mahon; but he +sent it, by mistake, to Kathleen. Listen--- + +“'When did you see Katsey Cavanagh? She certainly is not ill-looking, +and will originate you famous mountaineers. Do, like a good fellow, +stand by me at this pinch, and I will drink your health and Kat-sey's, +and that you may--' (what's this?) 'col--colonize Ahadarra with a race +of young Colossusses that the world will wonder at. + +“'Ever thine, + +“'H. Burke.' + +“Here's more, though: listen, mother, to your favorite, that you want to +marry Kathleen to:-- + +“'P.S. I will clear scores with you for all in the course of a few +months, and remember that, at your marriage, I must, with my own hand, +give you away to Katsey, the fair Oolossa.'” + + +The perusal of this document, at least so far as they could understand +it, astonished them not a little. Until they heard it read, both had +been of the opinion that Hycy had actually proposed for Kathleen, or at +least felt exceedingly anxious for the match. + +“An' does he talk about givin' her away to Bryan M'Mahon?” asked her +mother. Sorrow on his impidence!--Bryan M'Mahon indeed! Throth, it's not +upon his country side of wild mountain that Kathleen will go to live. +An' maybe, too, she has little loss in the same Hycy, for, afther all, +he's but a skite of a fellow, an' a profligate into the bargain.” + +“Paix an' his father,” said Gerald--“honest Jemmy--tould me that he'd +have it a match whether or not.” + +“His father did!” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh; “now, did he say so, Gerald?” + +“Well, in troth he did--said that he had I set his heart upon it, an' +that if she hadn't a gown to her back he'd make him marry her.” + +“The Lord direct us for the best!” exclaimed his wife, whose opinion of +the matter at this last piece of information had again changed in favor +of Hycy. “Sure, afther all, one oughtn't to be too sevare on so young +a man. However, as the sayin' is, 'time will tell,' an' Kathleen's own +good sense will show her what a match he'd be.” + +The sisters then retired to bed; but before they went, Kathleen +approached her mother, and putting an open palm affectionately upon each +of the good woman's cheeks, said, in a voice in which there was deep +feeling and affection:-- + +“Good-night, mother dear! I'm sure you love me, an' I know it is because +you do that you spake in this way; but I know, too, that you wouldn't +make me unhappy and miserable for the wealth of the world, much less +for Hycy Burke's share of it. There's a kiss for you, and +good-night!--there's another for you, father; God bless you! and +good-night, too. Come, Hanna darling, come!” + +In this state matters rested for some time. Bryan M'Mahon, however, soon +got an opportunity of disclosing his intentions to Kathleen, if that can +be called disclosing, which was tolerably well known for a considerable +time previous to the disclosure. Between them it was arranged that he +and his father should make a formal proposal of marriage to her parents, +as the best means of bringing the matter to a speedy issue. Before this +was done, however, Gerald, at the instigation of his wife, contrived +once more to introduce the subject as if by accident, in a conversation +with Jemmy Burke, who repeated his anxiety for the match as the best way +of settling down his son, and added, that he would lay the matter before +Hycy himself, with a wish that a union should take place between them. +This interview with old Burke proved a stumbling-block in the way of +M'Mahon. At length, after a formal proposal on the behalf of Bryan, and +many interviews with reference to it, something like a compromise was +effected. Kathleen consented to accept the latter in marriage, but +firmly and resolutely refused to hear Burke's name as a lover or suitor +mentioned. Her parents, however, hoping that their influence over her +might ultimately prevail, requested that she would not engage herself to +any one for two years, at the expiration of which period, if no change +in her sentiments should take place, she was to be at liberty to marry +M'Mahon. For the remainder of the summer and autumn, and up until +November, the period at which our narrative has now arrived, or, in +other words, when Bryan M'Mahon met Nanny Peety, matters had rested +precisely in the same position. This unexpected interview with the +mendicant's daughter, joined to the hints he had already received, once +more caused M'Mahon to feel considerably perplexed with regard to Hycy +Burke. The coincidence was very remarkable, and the identity of the +information, however limited, appeared to him to deserve all the +consideration which he could bestow upon it, but above all things he +resolved, if possible, to extract the secret out of Nanny Peety. + +One cause of Hycy Burke's extravagance was a hospitable habit of dining +and giving dinners in the head inn of Ballymacan. To ask any of his +associates to his father's house was only to expose the ignorance of his +parents, and this his pride would not suffer him to do. As a matter +of course he gave all his dinners, unless upon rare occasions, in Jack +Shepherd's excellent inn; but as young Clinton and he were on terms of +the most confidential intimacy, he had asked him to dine on the day in +question at his father's. + +“You know, my dear Harry,” he said to his friend, “there is no use in +striving to conceal the honest vulgarity of Jemmy the gentleman from you +who know it already. I may say ditto to madam, who is unquestionably the +most vulgar of the two--for, and I am sorry to say it, in addition to a +superabundant stock of vulgarity, she has still a larger assortment of +the prides; for instance, pride of wealth, of the purse, pride of--I +was going to add, birth--ha! ha! ha!--of person, ay, of beauty, if +you please--of her large possessions--but that comes under the purse +again--and lastly--but that is the only well-founded principle among +them--of her accomplished son, Hycy. This, now, being all within your +cognizance already, my dear Hal, you take a pig's cheek and a fowl with +me to-day. There will be nobody but ourselves, for when I see company at +home I neither admit the gentleman nor the lady to table. Damn it, you +know the thing would be impossible. If you wish it, however, we shall +probably call in the gentleman after dinner to have a quiz with him; +it may relieve us. I can promise you a glass of wine, too, and that's +another reason why we should keep him aloof until the punch comes. The +wine's always a _sub silencio_ affair, and, may heaven pity me, I get +growling enough from old Bruin on other subjects.” + +“Anything you wish, Hycy, I am your man; but somehow I don't relish the +idea of the quiz you speak of. 'Children, obey your parents,' says +Holy Scripture; and I'd as soon not help a young fellow to laugh at his +father.” + +“A devilish good subject he is, though--but you must know that I can +draw just distinctions, Hal. For instance, I respect his honesty--” + +“And copy it, eh?” + +“Certainly--I respect his integrity, too--in fact, I appreciate all his +good qualities, and only laugh at his vulgarity and foibles.” + +“You intend to marry, Hycy?” + +“Or, in other words, to call you brother some of these days.” + +“And to have sons and daughters?” + +“Please the fates.” + +“That will do,” replied Clinton, dryly. + +“Ho! ho!” said Hycy, “I see. Here's a mentor with a vengeance--a fellow +with a budget of morals cut and dry for immediate use--but hang all +morality, say I; like some of my friends that talk on the subject, +I have an idiosyncrasy of constitution against it, but an abundant +temperament for pleasure.” + +“That's a good definition,” said Clinton; “a master-touch, a very +correct likeness, indeed. I would at once know you from it, and so would +most of your friends.” + +“This day is Friday,” said Hycy, “more growling.” + +“Why so?” + +“Why, when I eat meat on a Friday, the pepper and sauce cost me nothing. +The 'gentlemen' lays on hard, but the lady extenuates, 'in regard to +it's bein' jinteel.'” + +“Well, but you have certainly no scruple yourself on the subject?” + +“Yes, I have, sir, a very strong one--in favor of the meat--ha! ha! ha!” + +“D--n me, whoever christened you Hycy the accomplished, hit you off.” + +“I did myself; because you must know, my worthy Hal, that, along with +all my other accomplishments, I am my own priest.' + +“And that is the reason why you hate the clergy? eh--ha! ha! ha!” + +“A hit, a hit, I do confess.” + +“Harke, Mr. Priest, will you give absolution--to Tom Corbet?” + +“Ah! Hal, no more an' thou lovest me--that sore is yet open. Curse the +villain. My word and honor, Hal, the gentleman' was right there. He +told me at the first glance what she was. Here comes a shower, let us +move on, and reach Ballymacan, if possible, before it falls. We shall be +home in fair time for dinner afterwards, and then for my proposal, +which, by the word and honor--” + +“And morality?” + +“Nonsense, Harry; is a man to speak nothing but truth or Scripture in +this world?--No--which I say by the honor of a gentleman, it will be +your interest to consider and accept.” + +“Very well, most accomplished. We shall see, and we shall hear, and then +we shall determine.” + +A ham and turkey were substituted for the pig's cheek and fowl, and we +need not say that Hycy and his friend accepted of the substitution with +great complacency. Dinner having been discussed, and a bottle of wine +finished, the punch came in, and each, after making himself a stiff +tumbler, acknowledged that he felt comfortable. Hycy, however, anxious +that he should make an impression, or in other words gain his point, +allowed Clinton to grow a little warm with liquor before he opened the +subject to which he had alluded. At length, when he had reached the +proper elevation, he began:-- + +“There's no man, my dear Harry, speaks apparently more nonsense than I +do in ordinary chat and conversation. For instance, to-day I was very +successful in it; but no matter, I hate seriousness, certainly, when +there is no necessity for it. However, as a set-off to that, I pledge +you my honor that no man can be more serious when it is necessary than +myself. For instance, you let out a matter to me the other night that +you probably forget now. You needn't stare--I am serious enough and +honorable enough to keep as an inviolable secret everything of the kind +that a man may happen to disclose in an unguarded moment.” + +“Go on, Hycy, I don't forget it--I don't, upon my soul.” + +“I allude to M'Mahon's farm in Ahadarra.” + +“I don't forget it; but you know, Hycy, my boy, I didn't mention either +M'Mahon or Ahadarra.” + +“You certainly did not mention them exactly; but, do you think I did +not know at once both the place and the party you allude to? My word and +honor, I saw them at a glance.” + +“Very well, go on with your word and honor;--you are right, I did mean +M'Mahon and Ahadarra--proceed, most accomplished, and most moral--” + +“Be quiet, Harry. Well, you have your eye upon that farm, and you say +you have a promise of it.” + +“Something like it; but the d--d landlord, Chevydale, is +impracticable--so my uncle says--and doesn't wish to disturb the +M'Mahons, although he has been shown that it is his interest to do +so--but d--n the fellow, neither he nor one of his family ever look to +their interests--d--n the fellow, I say.” + +“Don't curse or swear, most moral. Well, the lease of Ahadarra has +dropped, and of Carriglass too;--with Carriglass, however, we--that is +you--have nothing at all to do.” + +“Proceed?' + +“Now, I have already told you my affection for your sister, and I have +not been able to get either yes or no out of you.” + +“No.” + +“What do you mean?” + +“That you have not been able to get yes or no out of me--proceed, most +accomplished. Where do you get your brandy? This is glorious. Well!” + +“Now, as you have a scruple against taking the farm in any but a decent +way, if I undertake to manage matters so as that Bryan M'Mahon shall +be obliged to give up his farm, will you support my suit with Miss +Clinton?” + +“How will you do it?” + +“That is what you shall not know; but the means are amply within my +power. You know my circumstances, and that I shall inherit all my +father's property.” + +“Come; I shall hold myself neuter--will that satisfy you? You shall +have a clear stage and no favor, which, if you be a man of spirit, is +enough.” + +“Yes; but it is likely I may require your advocacy with Uncle; and, +besides, I know the advantage of having an absent friend well and +favorably spoken of, and all his good points brought out.” + +“Crazy Jane and Tom Burton, to wit; proceed, most ingenuous!” + +“Curse them both! Will you promise this--to support me so far?” + +“Egad, Hycy, that's a devilish pretty girl that attends us with the hot +water, and that waited on us at dinner--eh?” + +“Come, come, Master Harry, 'ware spring-guns there; keep quiet. You +don't answer?” + +“But, worthy Hycy, what if Maria should reject you--discard you--give +you to the winds?--eh?” + +“Even in that case, provided you support me honestly, I shall hold +myself bound to keep my engagement with you, and put M'Mahon out as a +beggar.” + +“What! as a beggar?” + +“Ay, as a beggar; and then no blame could possibly attach to you for +succeeding him, and certainly no suspicion.” + +“Hum! as a beggar. But the poor fellow never offended me. Confound it, +he never offended me, nor any one else as far as I know. I don't much +relish that, Hycy.” + +“It cannot be done though in any other way.” + +“I say--how do you call that girl?--Jenny, or Peggy, or Molly, or what?” + +“I wish to heaven you could be serious, Harry. If not, I shall drop the +subject altogether.” + +“There now--proceed, O Hyacinthus.” + +“How can I proceed, when you won't pay attention to me; or, what is +more, to your own interests?” + +“Oh! my own interests!--well I am alive to them.” + +“Is it a bargain, then?” + +“It is a bargain, most ingenuous, most subtle, and most conscientious +Hycy! Enable me to enter upon the farm of Ahadarra--to get possession of +it--and calculate upon my most--let me see--what's the best word--most +strenuous advocacy. That's it: there's my hand upon it. I shall support +you, Hycy; but, at the same time, you must not hold me accountable for +my sister's conduct. Beyond fair and reasonable persuasion, she must be +left perfectly free and uncontrolled in whatever decision she may come +to.” + +“There's my hand, then, Harry; I can ask no more.” + +After Clinton had gone, Hycy felt considerably puzzled as to the manner +in which he had conducted himself during the whole evening. Sometimes he +imagined he was under the influence of liquor, for he had drunk pretty +freely; and again it struck him that he manifested an indifference to +the proposal made to him, which he only attempted to conceal lest Hycy +might perceive it. He thought, however, that he observed a seriousness +in Clinton, towards the close of their conversation, which could not +have been assumed; and as he gave himself a good deal of credit for +penetration, he felt satisfied that circumstances were in a proper +train, and likely, by a little management, to work out his purposes. + +Hycy, having bade him good night at the hall-door, returned again to the +parlor, and called Nanny Peety--“Nanny,” said he, “which of the Hogans +did you see to-day?” + +“None o' them, sir, barrin' Kate: they wor all out.” + +“Did you give her the message?” + +“Why, sir, if it can be called a message, I did.” + +“What did you say, now?” + +“Why, I tould her to tell whichever o' them she happened to see first, +that St. Pether was dead.” + +“And what did she say to that?” + +“Why, sir, she said it would be a good story for you if he was.” + +“And what did she mean by that, do you think?” + +“Faix, then, I dunna--barrin' that you're in the black books wid him, +and that you'd have a better chance of gettin' in undher a stranger that +didn't know you.” + +“Nanny,” he replied, laughing, “you are certainly a very smart girl, +and indeed a very pretty girl--a very interesting young woman, indeed, +Nanny; but you won't listen to reason.” + +“To raison, sir, I'll always listen; but not to wickedness or evil.” + +“Will you have a glass of punch? I hope there is neither wickedness nor +evil in that.” + +“I'm afraid, sir, that girls like me have often found to their cost too +much of both in it. Thank you, Masther Hycy, but I won't have it; you +know I won't.” + +“So you will stand in your own light, Nanny?” + +“I hope not, sir; and, wanst for all, Mr. Hycy, there's no use in +spakin' to me as you do. I'm a poor humble girl, an' has nothing but my +character to look to.” + +“And is that all you're afraid of, Nanny?” + +“I'm afear'd of Almighty God, sir: an' if you had a little fear of Him, +too, Mr. Hycy, you wouldn't spake to me as you do.” + +“Why, Nanny, you're almost a saint on our hands.” + +“I'm glad to hear it, sir, for the sinners is plenty enough.” + +“Very good, Nanny; well said. Here's half a crown to reward your wit.” + +“No, no, Mr. Hycy: I'm thankful to you; but you know I won't take it.” + +“Nanny, are you aware that it was I who caused you to be taken into this +family?” + +“No,” sir; “but I think it's very likely you'll be the cause of my going +out of it.” + +“It certainly is not improbable, Nanny. I will have no self-willed, +impracticable girls here.” + +“You won't have me here long, then, unless you mend your manners, Mr. +Hycy.” + +“Well, well, Nanny; let us not quarrel at all events. I will be late out +to-night, so that you must sit up and let me in. No, no, Nanny, we must +not quarrel; and if I have got fond of you, how can I help it? It's very +natural thing, you know, to love a pretty girl.” + +“But not so natural to lave her, Mr. Hycy, as you have left others +before now--I needn't name them--widout name, or fame, or hope, or +happiness in this world.” + +“I won't be in until late, Nanny,” he replied, coolly. “Sit up for me. +You're a sharp one, but I can't spare you yet a while;” and, having +nodded to her with a remarkably benign aspect he went out. + +“Ay,” said she, after he had gone; “little you know, you hardened and +heartless profligate, how well I'm up to your schemes. Little you know +that I heard your bargain this evenin' wid Clinton, and that you're now +gone to meet the Hogans and Teddy Phats upon some dark business, that +can't be good or they wouldn't be in it; an' little you know what I know +besides. Anybody the misthress plaises may sit up for you, but I won't.” + + + + +CHAPTEE XI.--Death of a Virtuous Mother. + +It could not be expected that Bryan M'Mahon, on his way home from +Fethertonge's, would pass Gerald Cavanagh's without calling. He had, +in his interview with that gentleman, stated the nature of his mother's +illness, but at the same time without feeling any serious apprehensions +that her life was in immediate danger. On reaching Cavanagh's, he found +that family over-+shadowed with a gloom for which he could not account. +Kathleen received him gravely, and even Hanna had not her accustomed +jest. After looking around him for a little, he exclaimed--“What is the +matther? Is anything wrong? You all look as if you were in sorrow.” + +Hanna approached him and said, whilst her eyes filled with tears--“We +are in sorrow, Bryan; for we are goin', we doubt, to lose a friend that +we all love--as every one did that knew her.” + +“Hanna, darling,” said Kathleen, “this won't do. Poor girl! you are +likely to make bad worse; and besides there may, after all, be no real +danger. Your mother, Bryan,” she proceeded, “is much worse than she has +been. The priest and doctor have been sent for; but you know it doesn't +follow that there is danger, or at any rate that the case is hopeless.” + +“Oh, my God!” exclaimed Bryan, “is it so? My mother--and such a mother! +Kathleen, my heart this minute tells me it is hopeless. I must leave +you--I must go.” + +“We will go up with you,” said Kathleen. “Hanna, we will go up; for, +if she is in danger, I would like to get the blessing of such a woman +before she dies; but let us trust in G-od she won't die, and that it's +only a sudden attack that will pass away.” + +“Do so, Kathleen,” said her mother; “and you can fetch us word how she +is. May the Lord bring her safe over it at any rate; for surely the +family will break their hearts afther her, an' no wondher, for where was +her fellow?” + +Bryan was not capable of hearing these praises, which he knew to be +so well and so justly her due, with firmness; nor could he prevent his +tears, unless by a great effort, from bearing testimony to the depth +of his grief. Kathleen's gaze, however, was turned on him with an +expression which gave him strength; for indeed there was something noble +and. sustaining in the earnest and consoling sympathy which he read in +her dark and glorious eye. On their way to Carriglass there was little +spoken. Bryan's eye every now and then sought that of Kathleen; and +he learned, for the first time, that it is only in affliction that the +exquisite tenderness of true and disinterested love can be properly +appreciated and felt. Indeed he wondered at his own sensations; for +in proportion as his heart became alarmed at the contemplation of his +mother's loss, he felt, whenever he looked upon Kathleen, that it also +burned towards her with greater tenderness and power--so true is it +that sorrow and suffering purify and exalt all our nobler and better +emotions. + +Bryan and his companions, ere they had time to reach the house, were +seen and. recognized by the family, who, from the restlessness and +uncertainty which illness usually occasions, kept moving about and +running out from time to time to watch the arrival of the priest or +doctor. On this occasion Dora came to meet them; but, alas! with what +a different spirit from that which animated her on the return of her +father from the metropolis. Her gait was now slow, her step languid; +and they could perceive that, as she approached them, she wiped away the +tears. Indeed her whole appearance was indicative of the state of +her mother; when they met her, her bitter sobbing and the sorrowful +earnestness of manner with which she embraced the sisters, wore +melancholy assurances that the condition of the sufferer was not +improved. Hanna joined her tears with hers; but Kathleen, whose sweet +voice in attempting to give the affectionate girl consolation, was more +than once almost shaken out of its firmness, did all she could to soothe +and relieve her. + +On entering the house, they found a number of the neighboring females +assembled, and indeed the whole family, in consequence of the alarm +and agitation visible them, might not inaptly be compared to a brood of +domestic fowl when a hawk, bent on destruction, is seen hovering over +their heads. + +As is usual with Catholic families in their state of life, there were +several of those assembled, and also some of themselves, at joint prayer +in different parts of the house; and seated by her bedside was her +youngest son, Art, engaged, with sobbing voice and eyes every now and +then blinded with tears, in the perusal, for her comfort, of Prayers for +the Sick. Tom M'Mahon himself went about every now and then clasping +his hands, and turning up his eyes to heaven in a distracted manner, +exclaiming--“Oh! Bridget, Bridget, is it come to this at last! And +you're lavin' me--you're lavin' me! Oh, my God! what will I do--how will +I live, an' what will become of me!” + +On seeing Bryan, he ran to him and said,--“Oh! Bryan, to what point will +I turn?--where will I get consolation?--how will I bear it? Sure, +she was like a blessin' from heaven among us; ever full of peace, and +charity, and goodness--the kind word an' the sweet smile to all; but to +me--to me--oh! Bridget, Bridget, I'd rather die than live afther you!” + +“Father, dear, your takin' it too much to heart,” replied Bryan; “who +knows but God may spare her to us still? But you know that even if it's +His will to remove her from amongst us”--his voice here failed him for a +moment--“hem--to remove her from amongst us, it's our duty to submit +to it; but I hope in God she may recover still. Don't give way to sich +grief till we hear what the docthor will say, at all events. How did she +complain or get ill; for I think she wasn't worse when I left home?” + +“It's all in her stomach,” replied his father. “She was seized wid +cramps in her stomach, an' she complains very much of her head; but her +whole strength is gone, she can hardly spake, and she has death in her +face.” + +At this moment his brother Michael came to them, and +said--“Bryan--Bryan”--but he could proceed no farther. + +“Whisht, Michael,” said the other; “this is a shame; instead of +supportin' and cheer-in' my father, you're only doing him harm. I tell +you all that you'll find there's no raison for this great grief. Be a +man, Michael--” + +“She has heard your voice,” proceeded his brother, “and wishes to see +you.” + +This proof of her affection for him, at the very moment when he was +attempting to console others, was almost more than he could bear. +Bryan knew that he himself had been her favorite son, so far as a heart +overflowing with kindness and all the tender emotions that consecrate +domestic life and make up its happiness, could be said to have a +favorite. There was, however, that almost imperceptible partiality, +which rarely made its appearance unless in some slight and +inconsiderable circumstances, but which, for that very reason, was +valuable in proportion to its delicacy and the caution with which it +was guarded. Always indeed in some quiet and inoffensive shape was the +partiality she bore him observable; and sometimes it consisted in a +postponement of his wishes or comforts to those of her other children, +because she felt that she might do with him that which she could not +with the others--thus calculating as it were upon his greater affection. +But it is wonderful to reflect in how many ways, and through what +ingenious devices the human heart can exhibit its tenderness. + +Arthur, as Bryan entered, had concluded the devotions he had been +reading for her, and relinquished to him the chair he had occupied. On +approaching, he was at once struck by the awful change for the worse, +which so very brief a period had impressed upon her features. On leaving +home that morning she appeared to be comparatively strong, and not +further diminished in flesh than a short uneasy ailment might naturally +occasion. But now her face, pallid and absolutely emaciated, had shrunk +into half its size, and was, beyond all possibility of hope or doubt, +stamped with the unequivocal impress of death. + +Bryan, in a state which it is impossible to describe and very difficult +to conceive, took her hand, and after a short glance at her features, +now so full of ghastliness and the debility which had struck her down, +he stooped, and, kissing her lips, burst out into wild and irrepressible +sorrow. + +“Bryan, dear,” she said, after a pause, and when his grief had somewhat +subsided, “why will you give way to this? Sure it was on you I placed +my dependence--I hoped that, instead of settin' the rest an example for +weakness, you'd set them one that they might and ought to follow--I sent +for you, Bryan, to make it my request that, if it's the will of God to +take me from among you, you might support an' console the others, an' +especially your poor father; for I needn't tell you that along wid the +pain I'm bearin', my heart is sore and full o sorrow for what I +know he'll suffer when I'm gone. May the Lord pity and give him +strength!--for I can say on my dyin' bed that, from the first day I +ever seen his face until now, he never gave me a harsh word or an unkind +look, an' that you all know.” + +“Oh how could he, mother dear? how could any one give you that? Who +was it that ever knew you could trate you with anything but respect and +affection?” + +“I hope I always struv to do my duty, Bryan, towards God an' my +childre', and my fellow-creatures; an' for that raison I'm not +frightened at death. An', Bryan, listen to the words of your dyin' +mother--” + +“Oh, don't say that yet, mother,” replied her son, sobbing; “don't say +so yet; who knows but God will spare your life, an' that you may be many +years with us still; they're all alarmed too much, I hope; but it's no +wondher we should, mother dear, when there's any appearance at all of +danger about you.” + +“Well, whether or not, Bryan, the advice I'm goin' to give you is +never out o' saison. Live always with the fear of God in your heart; +do nothing that you think will displease Him; love your +fellow-creatures--serve them and relieve their wants an' distresses as +far as you're able; be like your own father--kind and good to all about +you, not neglectin' your religious duties. Do this, Bryan, an' then when +the hour o' death comes, you'll feel a comfort an' happiness in your +heart that neither the world nor anything in it can give you. You'll +feel the peace of God there, an' you will die happy--happy.” + +Her spirit, animated by the purity and religious truth of this simple +but beautiful morality, kindled into pious fervor as she proceeded, +so much so indeed, that on turning her eyes towards heaven, whilst she +uttered the last words, they sparkled with the mild and serene light of +that simple but unconscious enthusiasm on behalf of all goodness which +had characterized her whole life, and which indeed is a living principle +among thousands of her humble countrywomen. + +“This, dear Bryan, is the advice I gave to them all; it an' my love is +the only legacy I have to lave them. An' my darlin' Dora, Bryan--oh, if +you be kind and tendher to any one o' them beyant another, be so to +her. My darlin'Dora! Oh! her heart's all affection, an' kindness, an' +generosity. But indeed, as I said, Bryan, the task must fall to you to +strengthen and console every one o' them. Ay!--an' you must begin now. +You wor ever, ever, a good son; an' may God keep you in the right faith, +an' may my blessin' an' His be wid you for ever! Amin.” + +There was a solemn and sustaining spirit in her words which strengthened +Bryan, who, besides, felt anxious to accomplish to the utmost extent the +affectionate purpose which had caused her to send for him. + +“It's a hard task, mother darlin,” he replied; “but I'll endeavor, with +God's help, to let them see that I haven't been your son for nothing; +but you don't know, mother, that Kathleen's here, an' Hanna. They wish +to see you, an' to get your blessin'.” + +“Bring them in,” she replied, “an' let Dora come wid them, an' stay +yourself, Bryan, becaise I'm but weak, an' I don't wish that they should +stay too long. God sees its not for want of love for the other girls +that I don't bid you bring them in, but that I don't wish to see them +sufferin' too much sorrow; but my darlin' Dora will expect to be where +Kathleen is, an' my own eyes likes to look upon her, an' upon Kathleen, +too, Bryan, for I feel my heart bound to her as if she was one of +ourselves, as I hope she will be.” + +“Oh, bless her! bless her! mother,” he said, with difficulty, “an' tell +her them words--say them to herself. I'll go now and bring them in.” + +He paused, however, for a minute or two, in order to compose his voice +and features, that he might not seem to set them an example of weakness, +after which he left the apartment with an appearance of greater +composure than he really felt. + +In a few minutes the four returned: Bryan, with Kathleen's hand locked +in his, and Hanna, with her arm affectionately wreathed about Dora's +neck, as if the good-hearted girl felt anxious to cherish and comfort +her under the heavy calamity to which she was about to be exposed, for +Dora wept bitterly. Mrs. M'Mahon signed to Hanna to approach, who, with +her characteristic ardor of feeling, now burst into tears herself, and +stooping down kissed her and wept aloud, whilst Dora's grief also burst +out afresh. + +The sick woman looked at Bryan, as if to solicit his interference, and +the look was immediately understood by Kathleen as well as by himself. + +“This is very wrong of you, Hanna,” said her sister; “out of affection +and pity to them, you ought to endeavor to act otherwise. They have +enough, an' to much, to feel, without your setting them example; and, +Dora dear, I thought you had more courage than you have. All this is +only grieving and disturbing your mother; an' I hope that, for her sake, +you'll both avoid it. I know it's hard to do so, but it's the difficulty +and the trial that calls upon us to have strength, otherwise what are +we better than them that we'd condemn or think little of for their own +weakness.” + +The truth and moral force of the words, and the firmness of manner that +marked Kathleen as she spoke, were immediately successful. The grief +of the two girls was at once hushed; and, after a slight pause, Mrs. +M'Mahon called Kathleen to her. + +“Dear Kathleen,” she said, “I did hope to see the day when you'd be +one of my own family, but it's not the will of God, it appears, that I +should; however, may His will be done! I hope still that day will +come, an' that your friends won't have any longer an objection to your +marriage wid Bryan. I am his mother, an' no one has a better right to +know his heart an' his temper, an' I can say, upon my dyin' bed, that a +better heart an' a better temper never was in man. I believe, Kathleen, +it was never known that a good son ever made a bad husband. However, +if it's God's will to bring you together, He will, and if it isn't, you +must only bear it patiently.” + +Bryan was silent, but his eye, from time to time, turned with a long +glance of love and sorrow upon Kathleen, whose complexion became pale +and red by turns. At length Dora, after her mother had concluded, went +over to Kathleen, and putting her arms around her neck, exclaimed, “Oh! +mother dear, something tells me that Kathleen will be my sisther yet, +an' if you'd ask her to promise--” + +Kathleen looked down upon the beautiful and expressive features of the +affectionate girl, and gently raising her hand she placed it upon Dora's +lips, in order to prevent the completion of the sentence. On doing so +she received a sorrowful glance of deep and imploring entreaty from +Bryan, which she returned with another that seemed to reprove him for +doubting her affection, or supposing that such a promise was even +necessary. “No, Dora dear,” she said, “I could make no promise without +the knowledge of my father and mother, or contrary to their wishes; but +did you think, darling, that such a thing was necessary?” She kissed the +sweet girl as she spoke, and Dora felt a tear on her cheek that was not +her own. + +Mrs. M'Mahon had been looking with a kind of mournful admiration upon +Kathleen during this little incident, and then proceeded. “She says what +is right and true; and it would be wrong, my poor child, to ask her to +give such a promise. Bryan, thry an' be worthy of that girl--oh, do! an' +if you ever get her, you'll have raison to thank God for one of the best +gifts He ever gave to man. Hanna, come here--come to me--let me put my +hand upon your head. May my blessin' and God's blessin' rest upon you +for ever more. There now, be stout, acushla machree.” Hanna kissed her +again, but her grief was silent; and Dora, fearing she might not be able +to restrain it, took her away. + +“Now,” proceeded the dying woman, “come to me, you Kathleen, my +daughter--sure you're the daughter of my heart, as it is. Kneel down and +stay with me awhile. Why does my heart warm to you as it never did to +any one out o' my own family? Why do I love you as if you were my own +child? Because I hope you will be so. Kiss me, asthore machree.” + +Kathleen kissed her, and for a few moments Mrs. M'Mahon felt a shower +of warm tears upon her face, accompanied by a gentle and caressing +pressure, that seemed to corroborate and return the hope she had just +expressed. Kathleen hastily wiped away her tears, however, and once more +resuming her firmness, awaited the expected blessing. + +“Now, Kathleen dear, for fear any one might say that at my dyin' hour, +I endeavored to take any unfair advantage of your feelings for my son, +listen to me--love him as you may, and as I know you do.” + +“Why should I deny it?” said Kathleen, “I do love him.” + +“I know, darlin', you do, but for all that, go not agin the will and +wishes of your parents and friends; that's my last advice to you.” + +She then placed her hand upon her head, and in words breathing of piety +and affection, she invoked many a blessing upon her, and upon any that +was clear to her in life, after which both Bryan and Kathleen left her +to the rest which she now required so much. + +The last hour had been an interval from pain with Mrs. M'Mahon. In +the course of the day both the priest and the doctor arrived, and she +appeared somewhat better. The doctor, however, prepared them for the +worst, and in confirmation of his opinion, the spasms returned with +dreadful violence, and in the lapse of two hours after his visit, +this pious and virtuous woman, after suffering unexampled agony with a +patience and fortitude that could not be surpassed, expired in the midst +of her afflicted family. + +It often happens in domestic life, that in cases where long and +undisturbed affection is for the first time deprived of its object by +death, there supervenes upon the sorrow of many, a feeling of awful +sympathy with that individual whose love for the object has been, the +greatest, and whose loss is of course the most irreparable. So was it +with the M'Mahons. Thomas M'Mahon himself could not bear to witness the +sufferings of his wife, nor to hear her moans. He accordingly left the +house, and walked about the garden and farm-yard, in a state little +short of actual distraction. When the last scene was over, and her +actual sufferings closed for ever, the outrage of grief among his +children became almost hushed from a dread of witnessing the sufferings +of their father; and for the time a great portion of their own sorrow +was merged in what they felt for him. Nor was this feeling confined +to themselves. His neighbors and acquaintances, on hearing of Mrs. +M'Mahon's death, almost all exclaimed:-- + +“Oh, what will become of him? they are nothing an will forget her soon, +as is natural, well as they loved her; but poor Tom, oh! what on earth +will become of him?” Every eye, however, now turned toward Bryan, who +was the only one of the family possessed of courage enough to undertake +the task of breaking the heart-rending intelligence to their bereaved +father. + +“It must be done,” he said, “and the sooner it's done the better; what +would I give to have my darlin' Kathleen here. Her eye and her advice +would give me the strength that I stand so much in need of. My God, how +will I meet him, or break the sorrowful tidings to him at all! The Lord +support me!” + +“Ah, but Bryan,” said they, “you know he looks up to whatever you say, +and how much he is advised by you, if there happens to be a doubt about +anything. Except her that's gone, there was no one--” + +Bryan raised his hand with an expression of resolution and something +like despair, in order as well as he could to intimate to them, that he +wished to hear no allusion made to her whom they had lost, or that he +must become incapacitated to perform the task he had to encounter, and +taking his hat he proceeded to find his father, whom he met behind the +garden. + +It may be observed of deep grief, that whenever it is excited by the +loss of what is good and virtuous, it is never a solitary passion, we +mean within the circle of domestic life. So far from that, there is not +a kindred affection under the influence of a virtuous heart, that is not +stimulated, and strengthened by its emotions. How often, for instance, +have two members of the same family rushed into each other's arms, when +struck by a common sense of the loss of some individual that was dear to +both, because it was felt that the very fact of loving the same object +had now made them dear to each other. + +The father, on seeing Bryan approach, stood for a few moments and looked +at him eagerly; he then approached him with a hasty and unsettled step, +and said, “Bryan, Bryan, I see it in your face, she has left us, she has +left us, she has left us all, an' she has left me; an' how am I to live +without her? answer me that; an then give me consolation if you can.” + +He threw himself on his son's neck, and by a melancholy ingenuity +attempted to seduce him as it were from the firmness which he appeared +to preserve in the discharge of this sorrowful task, with a hope that he +might countenance him in the excess of his grief--“Oh,” he added, “I've +have lost her, Bryan--you and I, the two that she--that--she--Your word +was everything to her, a law to her; and she was so proud out of you--I +an' her eye would rest upon you smilin', as much as to say--there's my +son, haven't I a right to feel proud of him, for he has never once vexed +his mother's heart? nayther did you, Bryan, nayther did you, but now who +will praise you as she did? who will boast of you behind your back, for +she seldom did it to your face; and now that smile of love and kindness +will never be on her blessed lips more. Sure you won't blame me, +Bryan--oh, sure above all men livin', you won't blame me for feelin' her +loss as I do.” + +The associations excited by the language of his father were such as +Bryan was by no means prepared to meet. Still he concentrated all +his moral power and resolution in order to accomplish the task he had +undertaken, which, indeed, was not so much to announce his mother's +death, as to support his father under it. After a, violent effort, he at +length said:-- + +“Are you sorry, father, because God has taken my mother to Himself? +Would you wish to have her here, in pain and suffering? Do you grudge +her heaven? Father, you were always a brave and strong, fearless man, +but what are you now? Is this the example you are settin' to us, who +ought to look up to you for support? Don't you know my mother's in +heaven? Why, one would think you're sorry for it? Come, come, father, +set your childre' an example now when they want it, that they can look +up to--be a man, and don't forget that she's in God's Glory, Come in +now, and comfort the rest.” + +“Ay, but when I think of what she was, Bryan; of what she was to me, +Bryan, from the first day I ever called her my wife, ay, and before it, +when she could get better matches, when she struggled, and waited, and +fought for me, against all opposition, till her father an' mother saw +her heart was fixed upon me; hould your tongue, Bryan, I'll have no one' +to stop my grief for her, where is she? where's my wife, I tell you? +where's Bridget M'Mahon?--Bridget, where are you? have you left me, gone +from me, an' must I live here widout you? must I rise in the mornin,' +and neither see you nor hear you? or must I live here by myself an' +never have your opinion nor advice to ask upon anything as I used to +do--Bridget M'Mahon, why did you leave me? where are you from me?” + +“Here's Dora,” said a sweet but broken voice; “here's Dora M'Mahon--your +own Dora, too--and that you love bekaise I was like her. Oh, come with +me, father, darlin'. For her sake, compose yourself and come with me. +Oh, what are we to feel! wasn't she our mother? Wasn't she?--wasn't she? +What am I sayin'? Ay, but, now--we have no mother, now!” + +M'Mahon still leaned upon his son's neck, but on hearing his favorite +daughter's voice, he put his arm round to where she stood, and +clasping her in, brought her close to him and Bryan, so that the three +individuals formed one sorrowing group together. + +“Father,” repeated Dora, “come with me for my mother's sake.” + +He started. “What's that you say, Dora? For your mother's sake? I will, +darlin'--for her sake, I will. Ay, that's the way to manage me--for her +sake. Oh, what wouldn't I do for her sake? Come, then, God bless you, +darlin', for puttin' that into my head. You may make me do anything now, +Dora, jewel--if you just ax it for her sake. Oh, my God! an is it +come to this? An' am I talkin' this way?--but--well, for her sake, +darlin'--for her sake. Come, I'll go in--but--but--oh, Bryan, how can +I?” + +“You know father,” replied Bryan, who now held his arm, “we must all +die, and it will be well for us if we can die as she died. Didn't father +Peter say that if ever the light of heaven was in a human heart, it was +in hers?” + +“Ay, but when I go in an' look upon her, an' call Bridget, she won't +answer me.” + +“Father dear, you are takin' it too much to heart.” + +“Well, it'll be the first time she ever refused to answer me--the first +time that ever her lips will be silent when I spake to her.” + +“But, father,” said the sweet girl at his side, “think of me. Sure I'll +be your Dora more than ever, now. You know what you promised me this +minute. Oh, for her sake, and for God's sake, then, don't take it so +much to heart. It was my grandfather sent me to you, an' he says he +want's to see you, an' to spake to you.” + +“Oh!” he exclaimed, “My poor father, an' he won't be long afther her. +But this is the way wid all, Bryan--the way o' the world itself. We must +go. I didn't care, now, how soon I followed her. Oh, no, no.” + +“Don't say so, father; think of the family you have; think of how you +love them, and how they love you, father dear. Don't give way so much to +this sorrow. I know it's hard to bid you not to do it; but you know we +must strive to overcome ourselves. I hope there's happy days and years +before us still. We'll have our leases soon, you know, an' then we'll +feel firm and comfortable: an' you know you'll be--we'll all be near +where she sleeps.” + +“Where she sleeps. Well, there's comfort in that, Bryan--there's comfort +in that.” + +The old man, though very feeble, on seeing him approach, rose up and met +him. “Tom,” said he, “be a man, and don't shame my white hairs nor your +own. I lost your mother, an' I was as fond of her, an' had as good a +right, too, as ever you were of her that's now an angel in heaven; but +if I lost her, I bore it as a man ought. I never yet bid you do a thing +that you didn't do, but I now bid you stop cryin', an don't fly in the +face o' God as you're doin'. You respect my white hairs, an' God will +help you as he has done!” + +The venerable appearance of the old man, the melancholy but tremulous +earnestness with which he spoke, and the placid spirit of submission +which touched his whole bearing with the light of an inward piety +that no age could dim or overshadow, all combined to work a salutary +influence upon M'Mahon. He evidently made a great effort at composure, +nor without success. His grief became calm; he paid attention to other +matters, and by the aid of Bryan, and from an anxiety lest he should +disturb or offend his father by any further excess of sorrow, he was +enabled to preserve a greater degree of composure than might have been +expected. + + + + +CHAPTER XII.--Hycy Concerts a Plot and is urged to Marry. + +The Hogans, who seldom missed a Wake, Dance, Cockfight or any other +place of amusement or tumult, were not present, we need scarcely assure +our readers, at the wake-house of Mrs. M'Mahon. On that night they and +Teddy Phats were all sitting in their usual domicile, the kiln, already +mentioned, expecting Hycy, when the following brief dialogue took place, +previous to his appearance: + +“What keeps this lad, Hycy?” said Bat; “an' a complate lad is in his +coat, when he has it on him. Troth I have my doubts whether this same +gentleman is to be depended on.” + +“Gentleman, indeed,” exclaimed Philip, “nothing short of that will sarve +him, shure. To be depinded on, Bat! Why, thin, its more than I'd like to +say. Howanever, he's as far in, an' farther than we are.” + +“There's no use in our quarrelin' wid him,” said Phats, in his natural +manner. “If he's in our power, we're in his; an' you know he could +soon make the counthry too hot to hold us. Along wid all, too, he's as +revengeful as the dioule himself, if not a thrifle more so.” + +“If he an' Kathleen gets bothered together,” said Philip, “'twould be a +good look up for us, at any rate.” + +Kate Hogan was the only female present, the truth being that Philip and +Ned were both widowers, owing, it was generally believed, to the brutal +treatment which their unfortunate wives received at their hands. + +“Don't quarrel wid him,” said she, “if you can, at any rate, till we get +him more in our power, an' that he'll be soon, maybe. If we fall out +wid him, we'd have to lave the place, an' maybe to go farther than we +intend, too. Wherever we went over the province, this you know was our +headquarters. Here's where all belongin' to us--I mane that ever died a +natural death, or drew their last breath in the counthry--rests, an' I'd +not like to go far from it.” + +“Let what will happen,” said Philip, with an oath, “I'd lose my right +arm before Bryan M'Mahon puts a ring on Kathleen.” + +“I can tell you that Hycy has no notion of marry in' her, thin,” said +Kate. + +“How do you know that?” asked her husband. + +“I've a little bird that tells me,” she replied. + +“Gerald Cavanagh an' his wife doesn't think so,” said Philip. “They and +Jemmy Burke has the match nearly made.” + +“They may make the match,” said Kate, “but it's more than they'll be +able to do to make the marriage. Hycy's at greater game, I tell you; but +whether he is or not, I tell you again that Bryan M'Mahon will have her +in spite of all opposition.” + +“May be not,” said Phats; “Hycy will take care o' that; he has him set; +he'll work him a charm; he'll take care that Bryan won't be long in a +fit way to offer himself as a match for her.” + +“More power to him in that,” said Philip; “if he makes a beggarman of +him he may depend on us to the back-bone.” + +“Have no hand in injurin' Bryan M'Mahon,” said Kate. “Keep him from +marryin' Kathleen if you like, or if you can; but, if you're wise, don't +injure the boy.” + +“Why so?” asked Philip. + +“That's nothing to you,” she replied; “for a raison I have; and mark me, +I warn you not to do so or it'll be worse for you.” + +“Why, who are we afraid of, barrin Hycy himself?” + +“It's no matther; there's them livin' could make you afeard, an' maybe +will, too, if you injure that boy.” + +“I'd just knock him on the head,” replied the ferocious ruffian, “as +soon as I would a mad dog.” + +“Whisht,” said Phats, “here's Hycy; don't you hear his foot?” + +Hycy entered in a few moments afterwards, and, after the usual +greetings, sat down by the fire. + +“De night's could,” said Phats, resuming his brogue; “but here,” he +added, pulling out a bottle of whiskey, “is something to warm de blood +in us. Will you thry it, Meeisther Hycy?” + +“By-and-by--not now; but help yourselves.” + +“When did you see Miss Kathleen, Masther Hycy,” asked Kate. + +“You mean Miss Kathleen the Proud?” he replied--“my Lady Dignity--I have +a crow to pluck with her.” + +“What crow have you to pluck wid her?” asked Kate, fiercely. “You'll +pluck no crow wid her, or, if you do, I'll find a bag to hould the +fedhers--mind that.” + +“No, no,” said Philip; “whatever's to be done, she must come to no +harm.” + +“Why, the crow I have to pluck with her, Mrs. Hogan, is--let me +see--why--to--to marry her--to bind her in the bands of holy wedlock; +and you know, when I do, I'm to give you all a house and place free +gratis for nothing during your lives--that's what I pledge myself to do, +and not a rope to hang yourselves, worthy gentlemen, as Finigan would +say. I pass over the fact,” he proceeded, laughing, “of the peculiar +intimacy which, on a certain occasion, was established between Jemmy, +the gentleman's old oak drawers, and your wrenching-irons; however, that +is not the matter at present, and I am somewhat in a hurry.” + +“You heard,” said Bat, “that Bryan M'Mahon has lost his mother?” + +“I did,” said the other; “poor orphan lad, I pity him.” + +“We know you do,” said Bat, with a vindictive but approving sneer. + +“I assure you,” continued Hycy, “I wish the young man well.” + +“Durin' der lives,” repeated Phats, who had evidently been pondering +over Hycy's promised gift to the Hogans;--“throth,” he observed with +a grin, “dere may be something under dat too. Ay! an' she wishes Bryan +M'Mahon well,” he exclaimed, raising his red eyebrows. + +“Shiss,” replied Hycy, mimicking him, “her does.” + +“But you must have de still-house nowhere but in Ahadarra for alls dat.” + +“For alls dats” replied the other. “Dat will do den,” said Phats, +composedly. “Enough of this,” said Hycy. “Now, Phats, have you examined +and pitched upon the place?” + +“Well, then,” replied Phats, speaking in his natural manner, “I have; +an' a betther spot isn't in Europe than there is undher the hip of +Cullamore. But do you know how Roger Cooke sarved Adam Blakely of +Glencuil?” + +“Perfectly well,” replied Hycy, “he ruined him.” + +“But we don't know it,” said Ned; “how was it, Teddy?” + +“Why, he set up a still on his property--an' you know Adam owns the +whole townland, jist as Bryan M'Mahon does Ahadarra--an' afther three +or four runnin she gets a bloody scoundrel to inform upon Adam, as if it +was him an' not himself that had the still. Clinton the gauger--may the +devil break his neck at any rate!--an' the redcoats--came and found all +right, Still, Head, and Worm.” + +“Well,” said Bat, “an' how did that ruin him?” + +“Why, by the present law,” returned Phats, “it's the townland that must +pay the fine. Poor Adam wasn't to say very rich; he had to pay the fine, +however, and now he's a beggar--root an' branch, chick an' child out of +it. Do you undherstand that, Misther Hycy?” + +“No,” replied Hycy, “you're mistaken; I have recourse to the still, +because I want cash. Honest Jemmy the gentleman has taken the _sthad_ +an' won't fork out any longer, so that I must either run a cast or two +every now an' then, or turn clodhopper like himself. So much I say for +your information, Mr. Phats. In the meantime let us see what's to be +done. Here, Ned, is a five-pound note to buy barley; keep a strict +account of this; for I do assure you that I am not a person to be played +on. There's another thirty-shilling note--or stay, I'll make it two +pounds--to enable you to box up the still-house and remove the vessels +and things from Glendearg. Have you all ready, Philip?” he said, +addressing himself to Hogan. + +“All,” replied Philip; “sich a Still, Head, and Worm, you'd not find in +Europe--ready to be set to work at a minute's notice.” + +“When,” said Hycy, rising, “will it be necessary that I should see you +again?” + +“We'll let you know,” replied Phats, “when we want you. Kate here can +drop in, as if by accident, an' give the hand word.” + +“Well, then, good-night--stay, give me a glass of whiskey before I go; +and, before I do go, listen. You know the confidence I place in every +one of you on this occasion?” + +“We do,” replied Philip; “no doubt of it.” + +“Listen, I say. I swear by all that a man can swear by, that if a soul +of you ever breathes--I hope, by the way, that these young savages are +all asleep--” + +“As sound as a top,” said Bat, “everyone o' them.” + +“Well, if a single one of you ever breathes my name or mentions me to +a human being as in any way connected, directly or indirectly, with the +business in which we are engaged, I'll make the country too hot to hold +you--and you need no ghost to tell you how easily I could dispose of you +if it went to that.” + +Kate, when he had repeated these words, gave him a peculiar glance, +which was accompanied by a short abrupt laugh that seemed to have +something derisive in it. + +“Is there anything to be laughed at in what I am saying, most amiable +Mrs. Hogan?” he asked. + +Kate gave either a feigned or a real start as he spoke. + +“Laughed at!” she exclaimed, as if surprised; “throth I wasn't thinkin +of you at all, Mr. Hycy. What wor you sayin'?” + +“That if my name ever happens to be mentioned in connection with +this business, I'll send the whole kit of you--hammers, budgets, +and sothering-irons--to hell or Connaught; so think of this now, and +goodnight.” + +“There goes as d----d vagabond,” said Ned, “as ever stretched hemp; and +only that it's our own business to make the most use we can out of him, +I didn't care the devil had him, for I don't like a bone in his skin.” + +“Why,” said Philip, “I see what he's at now. Sure enough he'll put the +copin'-stone on Bryan. M'Mahon at any rate--that, an' if we can get the +house and place out of him--an' what need we care?” + +“Send us to hell or Connaught,” said Kate; “well, that's not bad--ha! +ha! ha!” + +“What are you neigherin' at?” said her husband; “and what set you +a-caoklin' to his face a while ago?” + +She shook her head carelessly. “No matther,” she replied, “for a raison +I had.” + +“Would you let me know your raison, if you plaise?” + +“If I plaise--ay, you did well to put that in, for I don't plaise to let +you know any more about it. I laughed bekaise I liked to laugh; an' I +hope one may do that 'ithout being brought over the coals about it. Go +to bed, an' give me another glass o' whiskey, Ted--it always makes me +sleep.” + +Ted had been for some minutes evidently ruminating. + +“He is a good boy,” said he; “but at any rate our hands is in the lion's +mouth, an' its not our policy to vex him.” + +Hycy, on his way home, felt himself in better spirits than he had. +been in for some time. The arrangement with young Clinton gave him +considerable satisfaction, and he now resolved to lose as little time as +possible in executing his own part of the contract. Clinton himself, +who was a thoughtless young fellow, fond of pleasure, and with no great +relish for business, was guided almost in everything by his knowing old +uncle the gauger, on whom he and his sister depended, and who looked +upon him as unfit for any kind of employment unless the management of a +cheap farm, such as would necessarily draw his attention from habits of +idleness and expense to those of application and industry. Being aware, +from common report, that M'Mahon's extensive and improvable holding in +Ahadarra was out of lease, he immediately set his heart upon it, but +knew not exactly in what manner to accomplish his designs, in securing +it if he could, without exposing himself to suspicion and a good deal of +obloquy besides. Old Clinton was one of those sheer and hardened sinners +who, without either scruple or remorse, yet think it worth while to keep +as good terms with the world as they can, whilst at the same time +they laugh and despise in their hearts all that is worthy of honor and +respect in it. His nephew, however, had some positive good, and not a +little of that light and reckless profligacy which is often mistaken for +heart and spirit. Hycy and he, though not very long acquainted, were, at +the present period of our narrative, on very intimate terms. They had, +it is true, a good many propensities in common, and these were what +constituted the bond between them. They were companions but not friends; +and Clinton saw many things in Hycy which disgusted him exceedingly, and +scarcely anything more than the contemptuous manner in which he spoke of +and treated his parents. He liked his society, because he was lively +and without any of that high and honorable moral feeling which is often +troublesome to a companion who, like Clinton, was not possessed of much +scruple while engaged in the pursuit of pleasures. On this account, +therefore, we say that he relished his society, but could neither +respect nor esteem him. + +On the following morning at breakfast, his uncle asked him where he had +dined the day before. + +“With Hycy Burke, sir,” replied the nephew. + +“Yes; that is honest Jemmy's son--a very great man in his own conceit, +Harry. You seem to like him very much.” + +Harry felt a good deal puzzled as to the nature of his reply. He knew +very well that his uncle did not relish Hycy, and he felt that he could +not exactly state his opinion of him without bringing in question +his own penetration and good taste in keeping his society. Then, with +respect to his sister, although he had no earthly intention of seeing +her the wife of such a person, still he resolved to be able to say to +Hycy that he had not broken his word, a consideration which would not +have bound Hycy one moment under the same circumstances. + +“He's a very pleasant young fellow, sir,” replied the other, “and has +been exceedingly civil and attentive to me.” + +“Ay!--do you like him--do you esteem him, I mean?” + +“I dare say I will, sir, when I come to know him better.” + +“Which is as much as to say that at present you do not. So I thought. +You have a portion of good sense about you, but in a thousand things +you're a jackass, Harry.” + +“Thank you, sir,” replied his nephew, laughing heartily; “thank you for +the compliment. I am your nephew, you know.” + +“You have a parcel of d----d scruples, I say, that are ridiculous. What +the devil need a man care about in this world but appearances? Mind your +own interests, keep up appearances, and you have done your duty.” + +“But I should like to do a little more than keep up appearances,” + replied his nephew. + +“I know you would,” said his uncle, “and it is for that especial reason +that I say you're carrying the ears. I'm now a long time in the world, +Masther Harry--sixty-two years--although I don't look it, nor anything +like it, and in the course of that time--or, at all events, ever +since I was able to form my own opinions, I never met a man that +wasn't a rogue in something, with the exception of--let me +see--one--two--three--four--five--I'm not able to make out the +half-dozen.” + +“And who were the five honorable exceptions?” asked his niece, smiling. + +“They were the five fools of the parish, Maria--and yet I am wrong, +still--for Bob M'Cann was as thievish as the very devil whenever he had +an opportunity. And now, do you know the conclusion I come to from all +this?” + +“I suppose,” said his niece, “that no man's honest but a fool.” + +“Thank you, Maria, Well done--you've hit it. By the way, it's seems +M'Mahon's wife, of Carriglass, is dead.” + +“Is she?” said Harry; “that is a respectable family, father, by all +accounts.” + +“Why, they neither rob nor steal, I believe,” replied his uncle. “They +are like most people, I suppose, honest in the eye of the law--honest +because the laws keep them so.” + +“I did not think your opinion of the world was so bad, uncle,” said +Maria; “I hope it is not so bad as you say it is.” + +“All I can say, then,” replied the old Cynic, “that if you wait till you +find an honest man for your husband, you'll die an old maid.” + +“Well, but excuse me, uncle, is that safe doctrine to lay down before +your nephew, or myself?” + +“Pooh, as to you, you silly girl, what have you to do with it? We're +taikin' about men, now--about the world, I say, and life in general.” + +“And don't you wish Harry to be honest?” + +“Yes, where it is his interest; and ditto to roguery, where it can be +done safely.” + +“I know you don't feel what you say, uncle,” she observed, “nor believe +it either.” + +“Not he, Maria,” said her brother, awakening out of a reverie; “but, +uncle, as to Hycy Burke--I don't--hem.” + +“You don't what?” asked the other, rising and staring at him. + +His nephew looked at his sister, and was silent. + +“You don't mean what, man?--always speak out. Here, help me on with +this coat. Fethertonge and I are taking a ride up tomorrow as far as +Ahadarra.” + +“That's a man I don't like,” said the nephew. “He's too soft and too +sweet, and speaks too low to be honest.” + +“Honest, you blockhead! Who says he's honest?” replied his uncle. “He's +as good a thing, however, an excellent man of the world that looks to +the main point, and--keeps up appearances. Take care of yourselves;” + and with these words, accompanied with a shrewd, knavish nod that was +peculiar to him, in giving which with expression he was a perfect adept, +he left them. + +When he was gone, the brother and his sister looked at each, other, and +the latter said, “Can it be possible, Harry, that my uncle is serious in +all he says on this subject?” + +Her brother, who paid more regard to the principles of his sister +than her uncle did, felt great reluctance in answering her in the +affirmative, so much so, indeed, that he resolved to stretch a little +for the sake of common decency. + +“Not at all, Maria; no man relishes honesty more than he does. He only +speaks in this fashion because he thinks that honest men are scarce, and +so they are. But, by-the-way, talking about Hycy Burke, Maria, how do +you like him?” + +“I can't say I admire him,” she replied, “but you know I have had very +slight opportunities of forming any opinion.” + +“From what you have seen of him, what do you think?” + +“Let me see,” she replied, pausing; “why, that he'll meet very few who +will think so highly of him as he does of himself.” + +“He thinks very highly of you, then.” + +“How do you know that?” she asked somewhat quickly. + +“Faith, Maria, from the best authority--because he himself told me so.” + +“So, then, I have had the honor of furnishing you with a topic of +conversation?” + +“Unquestionably, and you may prepare yourself for a surprise. He's +attached to you.” + +“I think not,” she replied calmly. + +“Why so?” he asked. + +“Because, if you wish to know the truth, I do not think him capable of +attachment to any one but himself.” + +“Faith, a very good reason, Maria; but, seriously, if he should +introduce the subject, I trust, at all events, that you will treat him +with respect.” + +“I shall certainly respect myself, Harry. He need not fear that I shall +read him one of my uncle's lectures upon life and honesty.” + +“I have promised not to be his enemy in the matter, and I shall keep my +word.” + +“So you may, Harry, with perfect safety. I am much obliged to him for +his good opinion; but”--she paused. + +“What do you stop at, Maria?” + +“I was only about to add,” she replied, “that I wish it was mutual.” + +“You wish it,” he exclaimed. “What do you mean by that, Maria?” + +She laughed. “Don't you know it is only a form of speech? a polite way +of saying that he does not rank high in my esteem?” + +“Well, well,” he replied, “settle that matter between you; perhaps the +devil is not so black as he's painted.” + +“A very unhappy illustration,” said his sister, “whatever has put it +into your head.' + +“Faith, and I don't know what put it there. However, all I can say in +the matter I have already said. I am not, nor shall I be, his enemy. +I'll trouble you, as you're near it, to touch the bell till George gets +the horse. I am going up to his father's, now. Shall I tell him that +John Wallace is discarded; that he will be received with smiles, and +that--” + +“How can you be so foolish, Harry?” + +“Well, good-bye, at any rate. You are perfectly capable of deciding for +yourself, Maria.” + +“I trust so,” she replied. “There's George with your horse now.” + +“It's a blue look-up, Master Hycy,” said Clinton to himself as he took +his way to Burke's. “I think you have but little chance in that quarter, +oh, most accomplished Hycy, and indeed I am not a whit sorry; but should +be very much so were it otherwise.” + +It is singular enough that whilst Clinton was introducing the subject +of Hycy's attachment to his sister, that worthy young gentleman was +sustaining a much more serious and vehement onset upon a similar subject +at home. Gerald Cavanagh and his wife having once got the notion of a +marriage between Kathleen and Hycy into their heads, were determined not +to rest until that desirable consummation should be brought about. In +accordance with this resolution, we must assure our readers that Gerald +never omitted any opportunity of introducing the matter to Jemmy Burke, +who, as he liked the Cavanaghs, and especially Kathleen herself, who, +indeed, was a general favorite, began to think that, although in point +of circumstances she was by no means a match for him, Hycy might do +still worse. It is true, his wife was outrageous at the bare mention of +it; but Jemmy, along with a good deal of blunt sarcasm, had a resolution +of his own, and not unfrequently took a kind of good-natured and +shrewd delight in opposing her wishes whenever he found them to be +unreasonable. For several months past he could not put his foot out of +the door that he was not haunted by honest Gerald Cavanagh, who had only +one idea constantly before him, that of raising his daughter to the rank +and state in which he knew, or at least calculated that Hycy Burke would +keep her. Go where he might, honest Jemmy was attended by honest Gerald, +like his fetch. At mass, at market, in every fair throughout the country +was Cavanagh sure to bring up the subject of the marriage; and what +was the best of it, he and his neighbor drank each other's healths so +repeatedly on the head of it, that they often separated in a state that +might be termed anything but sober. Nay, what is more, it was a fact +that they had more than once or twice absolutely arranged the whole +matter, and even appointed the day for the wedding, without either of +them being able to recollect the circumstances on the following morning. + +Whilst at breakfast on the morning in question, Burke, after finishing +his first cup of tea, addressed his worthy son as follows:-- + +“Hycy, do you intend to live always this way?” + +“Certainly not, Mr. Burke. I expect to dine on something more +substantial than tea.” + +“You're very stupid, Hycy, not to understand me; but, indeed, you never +were overstocked wid brains, unfortunately, as I know to my cost--but +what I mane is, have you any intention of changing your condition in +life? Do you intend to marry, or to go on spendin' money upon me at this +rate!” + +“The old lecture, Mrs. Burke,” said Hycy, addressing his mother. +“Father, you are sadly deficient in originality. Of late you are +perpetually repeating yourself. Why, I suppose to-morrow or next day, +you will become geometrical on our hands, or treat us to a grammatical +praxis. Don't you think it very likely, Mrs. Burke!” + +“And if he does,” replied his mother, “it's not the first time he has +been guilty of both; but of late, all the little shame he had, he has +lost it.” + +“Faith, and if I hadn't got a large stock, I'd a been run out of it this +many a day, in regard of what I had to lose in that way for you, Hycy. +However I'll thank you to listen to me. Have you any intention of +marryin' a wife?” + +“Unquestionably, Mr. Burke. Not a doubt of it.” + +“Well, I am glad to hear it. The sooner you're married, the sooner +you'll settle down. You'll know, then, my lad, what life is.” + +Honest Jemmy's sarcasm was likely to carry him too far from his purpose, +which was certainly not to give a malicious account of matrimony, but, +on the contrary, to recommend it to his worthy son. + +“Well, Mr. Burke,” said Hycy, winking at his mother, “proceed.” + +“The truth is, Hycy,” he added, “I have a wife in my eye for you.” + +“I thought as much,” replied the other. “I did imagine it was there you +had her; name--Mr. Burke--name?” + +“Troth, I'm ashamed, Hycy, to name her and yourself on the same day.” + +“Well, can't you name her to-day, and postpone me until to-morrow?” + +“It would be almost a pity to have her thrown away upon you. A good and +virtuous wife, however, may do a great deal to reclaim a bad husband, +and, indeed, you wouldn't be the first profligate that was reformed in +the same way.” + +“Many thanks, Mr. Burke; you are quite geological this morning; isn't +he, ma'am?” + +“When was he ever anything else? God pardon him! However, I know what +he's exterminatin' for; he wants you to marry Kathleen Cavanagh.” + +“Ay do I, Rosha; and she might make him a respectable man yet,--that is, +if any woman could.” + +“Geological again, mother; well, really now, Katsey Cavanagh is a +splendid girl, a fine animal, no doubt of it; all her points are good, +but, at the same time, Mr. Burke, a trifle too plebeian for Hycy the +accomplished.” + +“I tell you she's a devilish sight too good for you; and if you don't +marry her, you'll never get such a wife.” + +“Troth,” answered Mrs. Burke, “I think myself there's something over +you, or you wouldn't spake as you do--a wife for Hycy--one of Gerald +Cavanagh's daughters make a wife for him!--not while I'm alive at any +rate, plaise God.” + +“While you're alive; well, may be not:--but sure if it plases God to +bring it about, on your own plan, I must endaivor to be contented, +Rosha; ay, an' how do you know but I'd dance at their weddin' too! +ha! ha! ha!” + +“Oh, then, it's you that's the bitther pill, Jemmy Burke! but, thank +God, I disregard you at all events. It's little respect you pay to my +feelings, or ever did.” + +“I trust, my most amiable mother, that you won't suffer the equability +of your temper to be disturbed by anything proceeding from such an +antiphlogistic source. Allow me to say, Mr. Burke, that I have higher +game in view, and that for the present I must beg respectfully to +decline the proposal which you so kindly made, fully sensible as I am +of the honor you intended for me. If you will only exercise a little +patience, however, perhaps I shall have the pleasure ere long of +presenting to you a lady of high accomplishments, amiable manners, and +very considerable beauty.” + +“Not a 'Crazy Jane' bargain, I hope?” + +“Really, Mr. Burke, you are pleased to be sarcastic; but as for honest +Katsey, have the goodness to take her out of your eye as soon as +possible, for she only blinds you to your own interest and to mine.” + +“You wouldn't marry Kathleen, then?” + +“For the present I say most assuredly not,” replied the son, in the same +ironical and polite tone. + +“Because,” continued his father, with a very grave smile, in which there +was, to say truth, a good deal of the grin visible, “as poor Gerald was +a good deal anxious about the matther, I said I'd try and make you marry +her--_to oblige him_.” + +Hycy almost, if not altogether, lost his equanimity by the contemptuous +sarcasm implied in these words. “Father,” said he, to save trouble, and +to prevent you and me both from thrashing the wind in this manner, I +think it right to tell you that I have no notion of marrying such a girl +as Cavanagh's daughter.” + +“No,” continued his mother, “nor if you had, I wouldn't suffer it.” + +“Very well,” said the father; “is that your mind?” + +“That's my mind, sir.” + +“Well, now, listen to mine, and maybe, Hycy, I'll taiche you better +manners and more respect for your father; suppose I bring your brother +home from school,--suppose I breed him up an honest farmer,--and suppose +I give him all my property, and lave Mr. Gentleman Hycy to lead a +gentleman's life on his own means, the best way he can. There now is +something for you to suppose, and so I must go to my men.” + +He took up his hat as he spoke and went out to the fields, leaving both +mother and son in no slight degree startled by an intimation so utterly +unexpected, but which they knew enough of him to believe was one not at +all unlikely to be acted on by a man who so frequently followed up his +own determinations with a spirit amounting almost to obstinacy. + +“I think, mother,” observed the latter, “we must take in sail a little; +'the gentleman' won't bear the ironical to such an extent, although he +is master of it in his own way; in other words, Mr. Burke won't bear to +be laughed at.” + +“Not he,” said his mother, in the tone of one who was half angry at him +on that very account, “he'll bear nothing.” + +“D--n it, to tell that vulgar bumpkin, Cavanagh, I suppose in a state +of maudlin drunkenness, that he would make me marry his daughter--to +oblige, him!--contempt could go no further; it was making a complete +cipher of me.” + +“Ay, but I'm disturbed about what he said going out, Hycy. I don't +half like the face he had on him when he said it; and when he comes to +discover other things, too, money matthers--there will be no keepin the +house wid him.” + +“I fear as much,” said Hycy; “however, we must only play our cards as +well as we can; he is an impracticable man, no doubt of it, and it is a +sad thing that a young fellow of spirit should be depending on such a-- + + “'Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, + How can you bloom so fresh and fair, + How can ye chant, ye little birds, + And I sae weary fu' o' care, &c., &c. + +“Well, well--I do not relish that last hint certainly, and if other +projects should fail, why, as touching the fair Katsey, it might not +be impossible that--however, time will develop. She is a fine girl, a +magnificent creature, no doubt of it, still, most maternal relative, as +I said, time will develop--by the way, Mrs. M'Mahon, the clodhopper's +mother, is to be interred to-morrow, and I suppose you and 'the +gentleman' will attend the funeral.” + +“Sartinly, we must.” + +“So shall 'the accomplished.' Clinton and I shall honor that lugubrious +ceremony with our presence; but as respecting the clodhopper himself, +meaning thereby Bryan of Ahadarra, he is provided for. What an unlucky +thought to enter into the old fellow's noddle! However, _non constat_, +as Finigan would say, time will develop.” + +“You're not gainin' ground with him at all events,” said his mother; +“ever since that Crazy Jane affair he's changed for the worse towards +both of us, or ever since the robbery I ought to say, for he's dark and +has something on his mind ever since.” + +“I'm in the dark there myself, most amiable of mothers; however, as I +said just now, I say time will develop.” + +He then began to prepare himself for the business of the day, which +consisted principally in riding about seeking out new adventures, or, as +they term it, hunting in couples, with Harry Clinton. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII.--Mrs. M'Mahon's Funeral. + + +On the morning of Mrs. M'Mahon's funeral, the house as is usual in such +cases, was filled with relatives and neighbors, each and all anxious +to soothe and give comfort to the afflicted family. Protestants and +Presbyterians were there, who entered as deeply and affectionately into +the sorrow which was felt as if they were connected to them by blood. +Moving about with something like authority, was Dennis O'Grady, +the Roman Catholic Parish Clerk, who, with a semi-clerical bearing, +undertook to direct the religious devotions which are usual on such +occasions. In consequence of the dearth of schools and teachers that +then existed in our unfortunate country, it frequently happened, that +persons were, from necessity, engaged in aiding the performance of +religious duties, who were possessed of very little education, if not, +as was too often the case, absolutely and wholly illiterate. Dennis was +not absolutely illiterate, but, in good truth, he was by no means far +removed from that uncomfortable category. Finigan, the schoolmaster, +was also present; and as he claimed acquaintance with the classics, +and could understand and read with something like correctness the Latin +offices, which were frequently repeated on these occasions it would be +utterly impossible to describe the lofty scorn and haughty supercilious +contempt with which he contemplated poor Dennis, who kept muttering away +at the _Confiteor_ and _De Profundis_ with a barbarity of pronunciation +that rendered it impossible for human ears to understand a single word +he said. Finigan, swollen with an indignation which he could no longer +suppress, and stimulated by a glass or two of whiskey, took three or +four of the neighbors over to a corner, where, whilst his eyes rested on +Dennis with a most withering expression of scorn, he exclaimed--“Here, +hand me that manual, and get out o' my way, you illiterate nonentity and +most unsufferable appendage to religion.” + +He then took the book, and going over to the coffin, read in a loud +and sonorous voice the _De Profundis_ and other prayers for the dead, +casting his eyes from time to time upon the unfortunate clerk with a +contemptuous bitterness and scorn that, for force of expression, could +not be surpassed. When he had concluded, he looked around him with a +sense of lofty triumph that was irresistible in its way. “There,” said +he, “is something like accent and quantity for you--there is something +that may, without derogation to religion, be called respectable +perusal--an' yet to say that a man like me, wid classical +accomplishments and propensities from my very cradle, should be set +aside for that illiterate vulgarian, merely because, like every other +janius, I sometimes indulge in the delectable enjoyment of a copious +libation, is too bad.” + +This in fact was the gist of his resentment against O'Grady. He had been +in the habit for some time of acting as clerk to the priest, who bore +with his “copious libations,” as he called them, until common decency +rendered it impossible to allow him any longer the privilege of taking a +part as clerk in the ceremonies of religion. + +When this was over, a rustic choir, whom the parish clerk had organized, +and in a great measure taught himself, approached the body and sang a +hymn over it, after which the preparations for its removal began to be +made. + +Ever since the death of his wife, Thomas M'Mahon could not be prevailed +upon to taste a morsel of food. He went about from place to place, +marked by such evidences of utter prostration and despair that it was +painful to look upon him, especially when one considered the truth, +purity, and fervor of the affection that had subsisted between him and +the inestimable woman he had lost. The only two individuals capable of +exercising any influence upon him now were Bryan and his daughter Dora; +yet even they could not prevail upon him to take any sustenance. His +face was haggard and pale as death, his eyes red and bloodshot, and his +very body, which had always been erect and manly, was now stooped and +bent from the very intensity of his affliction. + +He had been about the garden during the scene just described, and from +the garden he passed round through all the office-houses, into every one +of which he entered, looking at them in the stupid bereavement of grief, +as if he had only noticed them for the first time. On going into the +cow-house where the animals were at their food, he approached one of +them--that which had been his wife's favorite, and which would suffer +no hand to milk her but her own--“Oh, Bracky,” he said, “little you know +who's gone from you--even you miss her already, for you refused for the +last three days to let any one of them milk you, when she was not here +to do it. Ah, Bracky, the kind hand and the kind word that you liked so +well will never be wid you more--that low sweet song that you loved to +listen to, and that made you turn round while she was milkin' you, an' +lick her wid your tongue from pure affection--for what was there that +had life that didn't love her? That low, sweet song, Bracky, you will +never hear again. Well, Bracky, for her sake I'm come to tell you, this +sorrowful mornin', that while I have life an' the means of keepin' you, +from me an' them she loved you will never part.” + +While he spoke the poor animal, feeling from the habit of instinct that +the hour of! milking had arrived, turned round and uttered once or twice +that affectionate lowing with which she usually called upon the departed +to come and relieve her of her fragrant burthen. This was more than +the heart-broken man could bear, he walked back, and entering the +wake-house, in a burst of vehement sorrow--“Oh, Bridget, my wife, my +wife--is it any wondher we should feel your loss, when your favorite, +Bracky, is callin' for you; but you won't come to her--that voice that +so often charmed her will never charm the poor affectionate creature +again.” + +“Father dear,” said Bryan, “if ever you were called upon to be a man it +is now.” + +“But, Byran, as God is to judge me,” replied his father, “the cow--her +own cow--is callin' for her in the cow-house widin--its truth--doesn't +everything miss her--even poor Bracky feels as if she was dasarted. Oh, +my God, an' what will we do--what will we do!” + +This anecdote told by the sorrowing husband was indeed inexpressingly +affecting. Bryan, who had collected all his firmness with a hope of +being able to sustain his father, was so much overpowered by this +circumstance that, after two or three ineffectual attempts to soothe +him, he was himself fairly overcome, and yielded for the moment to +bitter tears, whilst the whole family broke out into one general +outburst, of sorrow, accompanied in many cases by the spectators, who +were not proof against the influence of so natural and touching an +incident. + +Their neighbors and friends, in the meantime, were pouring in fast +from all directions. Jemmy Burke and his wife--the latter ridiculously +over-dressed--drove there upon their jaunting-car, which was considered +a great compliment, followed soon afterwards by Hycy and Harry Clinton +on horse-back. Gerald Cavanagh and his family also came, with the +exception of Kathleen and Hanna, who were, however, every moment +expected. The schoolmaster having finished the _De Profundis_, was, +as is usual, treated to glass of whiskey--a circumstance which just +advanced him to such a degree of fluency and easy assurance as was +necessary properly to develop the peculiarities of his character. Having +witnessed Bryan's failure at consolation, attended as it was by the +clamorous grief of the family, he deemed it his duty, especially as +he had just taken some part in the devotions, to undertake the task in +which Bryan had been so unsuccessful. + +“Thomas M'Mahon,” said he, “I'm disposed to blush--do you hear me, I +say? I am disposed to blush, I repate, for your want of--he doesn't hear +me:--will you pay attention? I am really disposed to blush”--and as he +uttered the words he stirred M'Mahon by shaking his shoulders two or +three times, in order to gain his attention. + +“Are you?” replied the other, replying in an absent manner to his words. +“God help you then, and assist you, for it's few can do it.” + +“Can do what?” + +“Och, I don't know; whatever you wor sayin'.” + +“Patience, my good friend, Thomas M'Mahon. I would call you Tom +familiarly, but that you are in affliction, and it is well known that +every one in affliction is, or at least ought to be, treated with +respect and much sympathetical consolation. You are now in deep sorrow; +but don't you knows that death is the end of all things? and believe me +there are many objects in this world which a wise and experienced man +would lose wid much greater regret than he would a mere wife. Think, for +instance, how many men there are--dreary and subdued creatures--who +dare not call their souls, if they have any, or anything else they do +possess, their own; think, I repate, of those who would give nine-tenths +of all they are worth simply to be in your present condition! Wretches +who from the moment they passed under the yoke matrimonial, to which all +other yokes are jokes, have often heard of liberty but never enjoyed it +for one single hour--the Lord help them!” + +“Amen!” exclaimed M'Mahon, unconsciously. + +“Yes,” proceeded Finigan, “unfortunate devils whose obstinacy has been +streaked by a black mark, or which ought rather to be termed a black and +blue mark, for that is an abler and more significant illustration, Poor +quadrupeds who have lived their whole miserable lives as married men +under an iron dynasty; and who know that the thunderings of Jupiter +himself, if he were now in vogue, would be mere music compared to the +fury of a conjugal tongue when agitated by any one of the thousand +causes that set it a-going so easily. Now, Thomas, I am far from +insinuating that ever you stood in that most pitiable category, but I +know many who have--heigho!--and I know many who do, and some besides +who will; for what was before may be agin, and it will be nothing but +ascendancy armed with her iron rod on the one hand, against patience, +submission, and tribulation, wid their groans and penances on the other. +Courage then, my worthy friend; do not be overwhelmed wid grief, for +I can assure you that as matters in general go on the surface of this +terraqueous globe, the death of a wife ought to be set down as a proof +that heaven does not altogether overlook us. 'Tis true there are tears +shed upon such occasions, and for very secret reason's too, if the truth +were known. Joy has its tears as well as grief, I believe, and it is +often rather difficult, under a blessing so completely disguised as the +death of a wi--of one's matrimonial partner, to restrain them. +Come then, be a man. There is Mr. Hycy Burke, a tender-hearted young +gentleman, and if you go on this way you will have him weeping' for +sheer sympathy, not pretermitting Mr. Clinton, his companion, who +is equally inclined to be pathetic, if one can judge from apparent +symptoms.” + +“I'm obliged to you, Masther,” replied M'Mahon, who had not heard, or +rather paid attention to, a single syllable he had uttered. “Of course +it's thruth you're savin'---it is--it is, _fureer gair_ it is; and she +that's gone from me is a proof of it. What wondher then that I should +shed tears, and feel as I do?” + +The unconscious simplicity of this reply to such a singular argument for +consolation as the schoolmaster had advanced, caused many to smile, +some to laugh outright, and others to sympathize still more deeply +with M'Mahon's sorrow. Finigan's allusion to Hycy and his companion was +justified by the contrast which the appearance of each presented. Hycy, +who enjoyed his lecture on the tribulations of matrimonial life very +much, laughed as he advanced in it, whilst Clinton, who was really +absorbed in a contemplation of the profound and solemn spirit which +marked the character of the grief he witnessed, and who felt impressed +besides by the touching emblems of death and bereavement which +surrounded him, gradually gave way to the impressions that gained on +him, until he almost felt the tears in his eyes. + +At this moment Kathleen and her sister Hanna entered the house, and a +general stir took place among those who were present, which was caused +by her strikingly noble figure and extraordinary beauty--a beauty which, +on the occasion in question, assumed a peculiarly dignified and majestic +character from the deep and earnest sympathy with the surrounding sorrow +that was impressed on it. + +Hycy and his companion surveyed her for many minutes; and the former +began to think that after all, if Miss Clinton should fail him, Kathleen +would make an admirable and most lovely wife. Her father soon after she +entered came over, and taking her hand said, “Come with me, Kathleen, +till you shake hands wid a great friend of yours--wid Misther Burke. +This is herself, Misther Burke,” he added, significantly, on putting her +hand into that of honest Jemmy, “an' I think no father need be ashamed +of her.” + +“Nor no father-in-law,” replied Jemmy, shaking her cordially by the +hand, “and whisper, darlin',” said he, putting his mouth close to her +ear, and speaking so as that he might not be heard by others, “I hope to +see you my daughter-in-law yet, if I could only get that boy beyant to +make himself worthy of you.” + +On speaking he turned his eyes on Hycy, who raised himself up, and +assuming his best looks intimated his consciousness of being the object +of his father's allusion to him. He then stepped over to where she +stood, and extending his hand with an air of gallantry and good humor +said, “I hope Miss Cavanagh, who has so far honored our worthy father, +won't refuse to honor the son.” + +Kathleen, who had blushed at his father's words, now blushed more deeply +still; because in this instance, there was added to the blush of modesty +that of offended pride at his unseasonable presumption. + +“This, Mr. Hycy,” she replied, “is neither a time nor a place for empty +compliments. When the son becomes as worthy as the father, I'll shake +hands with him; but not till that time comes.” + +On returning to the place she had left, her eyes met those of Bryan, and +for a period that estimable and true-hearted young fellow forgot +both grief and sorrow in the rush of rapturous love which poured +its unalloyed sense of happiness into his heart. Hycy, however, felt +mortified, and bit his lip with vexation. To a young man possessed of +excessive vanity, the repulse was the more humiliating in proportion to +its publicity. Gerald Cavanagh was as deeply offended as Hycy, and his +wife could not help exclaiming aloud, “Kathleen! what do you mane? I +declare I'm ashamed of you!” + +Kathleen, however, sat down beside her sister, and the matter was soon +forgotten in the stir and bustle which preceded the setting out of the +funeral. + +This was indeed a trying and heart-rending scene. The faithful wife, the +virtuous mother, the kind friend, and the pious Christian, was now about +to be removed for ever from that domestic scene which her fidelity, her +virtue, her charity, and her piety, had filled with peace, and love, and +happiness. As the coffin, which had been resting upon two chairs, was +about to be removed, the grief of her family became loud and vehement. + +“Oh, Bridget!” exclaimed her husband, “and is it to come to this at +last! And you are lavin' us for evermore! Don't raise the coffin,” he +proceeded, “don't raise it. Oh! let us not part wid her till to-morrow; +let us know that she's undher the same roof wid us until then. An', +merciful Father, when I think where you're goin' to bring her to! Oh! +there lies the heart now widout one motion--dead and cowld--the heart +that loved us all as no other heart ever did! Bridget, my wife, don't +you hear me? But the day was that you'd hear me, an' that your kind an' +lovin' eye would turn on me wid that smile that was never broken. Where +is the wife that was true? Where is the lovin' mother, the charitable +heart to the poor and desolate, and the hand that was ever ready to aid +them that was in distress? Where are they all now? There, dead and cowld +forever, in that coffin. What has become of my wife, I say? What is +death at all, to take all we love from us this way? But sure God forgive +me for saying so, for isn't it the will of God? but oh! it is the +heaviest of all thrials to lose such a woman as she was!” + +Old grandfather, as he was called, had latterly become very feeble, +and was barely able to be out of bed on that occasion. When the tumult +reached the room where he sat with some of the aged neighbors, he +inquired what had occasioned it, and being told that the coffin was +about to be removed to the hearse, he rose up. + +“That is Tom's voice I hear,” said he, “and I must put an end to +this.” He accordingly made his appearance rather unexpectedly among them, +and approaching his son, said, putting his hand commandingly upon +his shoulder, and looking in his face with a solemn consciousness of +authority that was irresistible, “I command you, Tom, to stop. It's not +many commands that I'll ever give you--maybe this will be the last--and +it's not many ever I had occasion to give you, but now I command you to +stop and let the funeral go on.” He paused for a short time and looked +upon the features of his son with a full sense of what was due to his +authority. His great age, his white hairs, his venerable looks and +bearing, and the reverence which the tremulous but earnest tones of his +voice were calculated to inspire, filled his son with awe, and he was +silent. + +“Father,” said he, “I will; I'll try and obey you--I will.” + +“God bless you and comfort you, my dear son,” said the old man. “Keep +silence, now,” he proceeded, addressing the others, “and bring the +coffin to the hearse at wanst. And may God strengthen and support you +all, for it's I that knows your loss; but like a good mother as she was, +she has left none but good and dutiful childre' behind her.” + +Poor Dora, during the whole morning, had imposed a task upon herself +that was greater than her affectionate and sorrowing heart could bear. +She was very pale and exhausted by the force of what she had felt, and +her excessive weeping; but it was observed that she now appeared to +manifest a greater degree of fortitude than any of the rest. Still, +during this assumed calmness, the dear girl, every now and then, could +not help uttering a short convulsive sob, that indicated at once her +physical debility and extraordinary grief. She was evidently incapable +of entering into conversation, or at least, averse to it, and was +consequently very silent during the whole morning. As they stooped, +however, to remove the coffin, she threw herself upon it, exclaiming, +“Mother, its your own Dora--mother--mother--don't, mother--don't lave me +don't--I won't let her go--I won't let her go! I--I--” Even before she +could utter the words she intended to say, her head sank down, and her +pale but beautiful cheek lay exactly beside the name, Bridget M'Mahon, +that was upon it. + +“The poor child has fainted,” they exclaimed, “bring her to the fresh +air.” + +Ere any one had time, however, to raise her, James Cavanagh rushed over +to the coffin, and seizing her in his arms, bore her to the street, +where he placed her upon one of the chairs that had been left there +to support the coffin until keened over by the relatives and friends, +previous to its being-placed in the hearse; for such is the custom. +There is something exceedingly alarming in a swoon to a person who +witnesses it for the first time; which was the case with James Cavanagh. +Having placed her on the chair, he looked wildly upon her; then as +wildly upon those who were crowding round him. “What ails her?” he +exclaimed--“what ails her?--she is dead!--she is dead! Dora--Dora +dear--Dora dear, can't you spake or hear me?” + +Whilst he pronounced the words, a shower of tears gushed rapidly from +his eyes and fell upon her beautiful features, and in the impressive +tenderness of the moment, he caught her to his heart, and with +rapturous distraction and despair kissed her lips and exclaimed, “She is +dead!--she is dead!--an' all that's in the world is nothing to the love +I had for her!” + +“Stand aside, James,” said his sister Kathleen; “leave this instantly. +Forgive him, Bryan,” she said, looking at her lover with a burning brow, +“he doesn't know what he is doing.” + +“No, Kathleen,” replied, her brother, with a choking voice, “neither for +you nor for him, nor for a human crature, will I leave her.” + +“James, I'm ashamed of you,” said Hanna, rapidly and energetically +disengaging his arms from about the insensible girl; “have! you no +respect for Dora? If you love her as you say, you could hardly act as +you did.” + +“Why,” said he, staring at her, “what did I do?” + +Bryan took him firmly by the arm, and said, “Come away, you foolish boy; +I don't think you know what you did. Leave her to the girls. There, she +is recoverin'.” + +She did soon recover; but weak and broken down as she was, no persuasion +nor even authority could prevail upon her to remain at home. Jemmy +Burke, who had intended to offer Kathleen a seat upon his car, which, of +course, she would not have accepted, was now outmanoeuvred by his +wife, 'who got Dora beside herself, after having placed a sister of Tom +M'Mahon's beside him. + +At length, the coffin was brought out, and the keene raised over it, on +the conclusion of which it was placed in the hearse, and the procession +began to move on. + +There is nothing in the rural districts of this country that so clearly +indicates the respect entertained for any family as the number of +persons which, when a death takes place in it, attend the funeral. In +such a case, the length of the procession is the test of esteem in which +the party has been held. Mrs. M'Mahon's funeral was little less than a +mile long. All the respectable farmers and bodaghs, as they call them, +or half-sirs in the parish, were in attendance, as a mark of, respect +for the virtues of the deceased, and of esteem for the integrity +and upright spirit of the family that had been deprived of her so +unexpectedly. + +Hycy and his friend, Harry Clinton, of course rode together, Finigan, +the schoolmaster, keeping as near them as he could; but not so near as +to render his presence irksome to them, when he saw that they had no +wish for it. + +“Well, Harry,” said his companion, “what do you think of the last +scene?” + +“You allude to Cavanagh's handsome young son, and the very pretty girl +that fainted, poor thing!” + +“Of course I do,” replied Hycy. + +“Why,” said the other, “I think the whole thing was very simple, and +consequently very natural. The young fellow, who is desperately in +love--there is no doubt of that--thought she had died; and upon my soul, +Hycy, there is a freshness and a purity in the strongest raptures of +such a passion, that neither you nor I can dream of. I think, however, +I can understand, or guess at rather, the fulness of heart and the +tenderness by which he was actuated.” + +“What do you think of Miss Cavanagh?” asked Hycy, with more of interest +than he had probably ever felt in her before. + +“What do I think?” said the other, looking at him with a good deal of +surprise. “What can I think? What could any man, that has either taste +or common-sense think? Faith, Hycy, to be plain with you, I think her +one of the finest girls, if not the very finest, I ever saw. Heavens! +what would not that girl be if she had received the advantages of a +polished and comprehensive education?” + +“She is very much of a lady as it is,” added Hycy, “and has great +natural dignity and unstudied grace, although I must say that she has +left me under no reason to feel any particular obligations to her.” + +“And yet there is a delicate and graceful purity in the beauty of little +Dora, which is quite captivating,” observed Clinton. + +“Very well,” replied the other, “I make jou a present of the two fair +rustics; give me the interesting Maria. Ah, Harry, see what education +and manner do. Maria is a delightful girl.” + +“She is an amiable and a good girl,” said her brother; “but, in point of +personal attractions, quite inferior to either of the two we have been +speaking of.” + +“Finigan,” said Hycy--“I beg your pardon, O'Finigan--the great +O'Finigan, Philomath--are you a good judge of beauty?” + +“Why, then, Mr. Hycy,” replied the pedagogue, “I think, above all +subjects, that a thorough understanding of that same comes most natural +to an Irishman. It is a pleasant topic to discuss at all times.” + +“Much pleasanter than marriage, I think,” said Clinton, smiling. + +“Ah, Mr. Clinton,” replied the other, with a shrug, “_de mortuis +nil nisi bonum_; but as touching beauty, in what sense do you ask my +opinion?” + +“Whether now, for instance, would your learned taste prefer Miss +Cavanagh or Miss Dora M'Mahon? and give your reasons.” + +“Taste, Mr. Hycy, is never, or at least seldom, guided by reason; the +question, however, is a fair one.” + +“One at least on a fair subject,” observed Clinton. + +“Very well said, Mr. Clinton,” replied the schoolmaster, with a +grin--“there goes wit for us, no less--and originality besides. See what +it is to have a great janius!--ha! ha! ha!” + +“Well, Mr. O'Finigan,” pursued Hycy, “but about the ladies? You have not +given us your opinion.” + +“Why, then, they are both highly gifted wid beauty, and strongly +calculated to excite the amorous sentiments of refined and elevated +affection.” + +“Well done, Mr. Plantation,” said Hycy; “you are improving--proceed.” + +“Miss Cavanagh, then,” continued Finigan, “I'd say was a goddess, and +Miss M'Mahon her attendant nymph.” + +“Good again, O'Finigan,” said Clinton; “you are evidently at home in the +mythology.” + +“Among the goddesses, at any rate,” replied the master, with another +grin. + +“Provided there is no matrimony in the question,” said Clinton. + +“Ah, Mr. Clinton, don't, if you please. That's a subject you may respect +yet as much as I do; but regarding my opinion of the two beauties in +question, why was it solicited, Mr. Hycy?” he added, turning to that +worthy gentlemen. + +“Faith, I'm not able to say, most learned Philomath; only, is it true +that Bryan, the clodhopper, has matrimonial designs upon the fair +daughter of the regal Cavanagh?” + +“_Sic vult fama_, Mr. Hycy, upon condition that a certain accomplished +young gentleman, whose surname commences with the second letter of +the alphabet, won't offer--for in that case, it is affirmed, that the +clodhopper should travel. By the way, Mr. Clinton, I met your uncle and +Mr. Fethertonge riding up towards Ahadarra this morning.” + +“Indeed!” exclaimed both; and as they spoke, each cast a look of inquiry +at the other. + +“What could bring them to Ahadarra, gentlemen?” asked Finigan, in a tone +of voice which rendered it a nice point to determine whether it was a +simple love of knowledge that induced him to put the question, or some +other motive that might have lain within a kind of ironical gravity that +accompanied it. + +“Why, I suppose a pair of good horses,” replied Hycy, “and their own +inclination.” + +“It was not the last, at all events,” said Finigan, “that ever brought +a thief to the gallows--ha! ha! ha! we must be facetious sometimes, Mr. +Hycy.” + +“You appear to enjoy that joke, Mr. Finigan,” said Hycy, rather tartly. + +“Faith,” replied Finigan, “it's a joke that very few do enjoy, I think.” + +“What is?” + +“Why, the gallows, sir--ha! ha! ha! but don't forget the O if you +plaise--ever and always the big O before Finigan--ha! ha! ha!” + +“Come, Clinton,” said Hycy, “move on a little. D--n that fellow!” he +cried--“he's a sneering scoundrel; and I'm half inclined to think he has +more in him than one would be apt to give him credit for.” + +“By the way, what could the visit to Ahadarra mean?” asked Clinton. “Do +you know anything about it, Hycy?” + +“Not about this; but it is very likely that I shall cause them, or +one of them at least, to visit it on some other occasion ere long; and +that's all I can say now. Curse that keening, what a barbarous practice +it is!' + +“I think not,” said the other; “on the contrary, I am of opinion that +there's something strikingly wild and poetical in it something that +argues us Irish to be a people of deep feeling and strong imagination: +two of the highest gifts of intellect.” + +“All stuff,” replied the accomplished Hycy, who, among his other +excellent qualities, could never afford to speak a good word to his +country Or her people. “All stuff and barbarous howling that we +learned from the wolves when we had them in Ireland. Here we are at the +graveyard.” + +“Hycy,” said his friend, “it never occurred to me to thing of asking +what religion you believe in.” + +“It is said,” replied Hycy, “that a fool may propose a question which +a wise man can't answer. As to religion, I have not yet made any +determination among the variety that is abroad. A man, however, can +be at no loss; for as every one of them is the best, it matters little +which of them he chooses. I think it likely I shall go to church with +your sister, should we ever do matrimony together. To a man like me +who's indifferent, respectability alone ought to determine.” + +Clinton made no reply to this; and in a few minutes afterward they +entered the churchyard, the coffin having been taken out of the hearse +and borne on the shoulders of her four nearest relatives,--Tom M'Mahon, +in deep silence and affliction, preceding it as chief mourner. + +There is a prostrating stupor, or rather a kind of agonizing delirium +that comes over the mind when we are forced to mingle with crowds, and +have our ears filled with the voices of lamentation, the sounds of the +death-bell, or the murmur of many people in conversation. 'Twas thus +M'Mahon felt during the whole procession. Sometimes he thought it was +relief, and again he felt as if it was only the mere alternation of +suffering into a sharper and more dreadful sorrow; for, change as it +might, there lay tugging at his heart the terrible consciousness that +she, I the bride of his youthful love and the companion of his +larger and more manly affection--the blameless wife and the stainless +woman--was about to be consigned to the grave, and that his eyes in this +life must; never rest upon her again. + +When the coffin was about to be lowered down, all the family, one after +another, clasped their arms about it, and kissed it with a passionate +fervor of grief that it was impossible to witness with firmness. At +length her husband, who had been looking on, approached it, and clasping +it in his arms like the rest, he said--“for ever and for ever, and for +ever, Bridget--but, no, gracious God, no; the day will come, Bridget, +when I will be with you here--I don't care now how soon. My happiness +is gone, asthore machree--life is nothing to me now--all's empty; and +there's neither joy, nor ease of mind, nor comfort for me any more. An' +this is our last parting--this is our last farewell, Bridget dear; but +from this out my hope is to be with you here; and if nothing else on my +bed of death was to console me, it would be, and it will be, that you +and I will then sleep together, never to be parted more. That will be my +consolation.” + +“Now, father dear,” said Bryan, “we didn't attempt to stop or prevent +you, and I hope you'll be something calm and come away for a little.” + +“Best of sons! but aren't you all good, for how could you be +otherwise with her blood in your veins?--bring me away; come you, Dora +darlin'--ay, that's it--support the: blessed child between you and +Hanna, Kathleen darlin'. Oh, wait, wait till we get out of hearin, or +the noise of the clay fallin' on the coffin will kill me.” + +They then walked to some distance, where they remained until the “narrow +house” was nearly filled, after which they once more surrounded it until +the last sod was beaten in. This being over, the sorrowing group sought +their way home with breaking hearts, leaving behind them her whom they +had loved so well reposing in the cold and unbroken solitude of the +grave. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV.--Mysterious Letter + +--Hycy Disclaims Sobriety--Ahadarra's in for it. + + +One day about a month after Mrs. M'Mahon's funeral, Harry Clinton was +on his way to Jemmy Burke's, when he met Nanny Peety going towards +Ballymacan. + +“Well, Nanny,” he inquired, “where are you bound for, now?” + +“To the post-office with a letter from Masther Hycy, sir. I wanted him +to tell me who it was for, but he would not. Will you, Mr. Clinton?” and +she held out the letter to him as she spoke. + +Clinton felt a good deal surprised to see that it was addressed to his +uncle, and also written in a hand which he did not recognize to be that +of Hycy Burke. + +“Are you sure, Nanny,” he asked, “that this letter was written by Mr. +Hycy?” + +“Didn't I see him, sir?” she replied; “he wrote it before my eyes a +minute before he handed it to me. Who is it for, Mr. Clinton?” + +“Why are you so very anxious to know, Nanny?” he inquired. + +“Sorra thing,” she replied, “but curiosity--a woman's curiosity, you +know.” + +“Well, Nanny, you know, or ought to know, that it would not be right in +me to tell you who the letter is for, when Mr. Hycy did not think proper +to do so.” + +“True enough, sir,” she replied; “an I beg your pardon, Mr. Clinton, for +asking you; indeed it was wrong in me to tell you who it came from even, +bekaise Mr. Hycy told me not to let any one see it, only jist to slip it +into the post-office unknownst, as I passed it; an' that was what made +me wish to know who it was goin' to, since the thruth must be tould.” + +Clinton in turn now felt his curiosity stimulated as to the contents +of this mysterious epistle, and he resolved to watch, if possible, what +effect the perusal of it might have on his uncle, otherwise he was never +likely to hear a syllable that was contained in it, that worthy relative +being, from official necessity, a most uncommunicative person in all his +proceedings. + +“I wonder,” observed Clinton, “that Mr. Hycy would send to any one a +letter so slurred and blotted with ink as that is.” + +“Ay, but he blotted it purposely himself,” replied Nanny, “and that too +surprised me, and made me wish to know what he could mane by it.” + +“Perhaps it's a love-letter, Nanny,” said Clinton, laughing. + +“I would like to know who it is to, at any rate,” said the girl; “but +since you won't, tell me, sir, I must try and not lose my rest about it. +Good-bye, Mr. Clinton.” + +“Good-bye, Nanny;” and so they started. + +Young Clinton, who, though thoughtless and fond of pleasure, was not +without many excellent points of character, began now to perceive, +by every day's successive intimacy, the full extent of Hycy Burke's +profligacy of morals, and utter want of all honorable principle. +Notwithstanding this knowledge, however, he felt it extremely difficult, +nay, almost impossible, to separate himself from Hycy, who was an +extremely pleasant young fellow, and a very agreeable companion when +he pleased. He had in fact gained that personal ascendancy over him, or +that licentious influence which too many of his stamp are notorious for +exercising over better men than themselves; and he found that he could +not readily throw Hyoy off, without being considerably a loser by the +act. + +“I shall have nothing to do with his profligacy,” said he, “or his want +of principle, and I shall let him know, at all events, that I will not +abide by the agreement or compromise entered into between us some time +since at his father's. He shall not injure an honest man for me, nor +shall I promise him even neutrality with respect to his proposal for my +sister, whom I would rather see dead a hundred times than the wife of +such a fellow.” + +The next morning, about half an hour before breakfast, he told his uncle +that he was stepping into town and would bring him any letters that +might be for him in the post-office. He accordingly did so, and received +two letters, one Hycy's and the other with the crest and frank of the +sitting member for the county, who was no other than young Chevydale. +His uncle was at breakfast when he handed them to him, and we need +hardly say that the M.P. was honored by instant attention. The +Still-hound read it over very complacently. “Very well,” he exclaimed; +“very well, indeed, so far. Harry, we must be on the alert, now the +elections are approaching, and Chevydale will be stoutly opposed, it +seems. We must work for him, and secure as many votes as we can. It +is our interest to do so, Harry,--and he will make it our interest +besides.” + +“Has principle nothing to do with it, sir?” + +“Principle! begad, sir,” retorted the uncle, “there's no such thing as +principle--lay that down as a fact--there's no such thing in this world +as principle.” + +“Well, but consistency, uncle. For instance, you know you always vote on +the Tory side, and Chevydale is a Liberal and an Emancipator.” + +“Consistency is all d--d stuff, Harry, as principle. What does it mean? +why that if a man's once wrong he's always to be wrong--that is just the +amount of it. There's Chevydale, for instance, he has a brother who is a +rank Tory and a Commissioner of Excise, mark that; Chevydale and he play +into each other's hands, and Chevydale some of these days will sell the +Liberals, that is, if he can get good value for them. If I now vote on +the Tory side against Chevydale, his brother, the Tory Commissioner, +will be my enemy in spite of all his Toryism; but if I vote and exert +myself for Chevydale, the Liberal, I make his Tory of a brother my +friend for life. And now, talk to me about principle, or consistency +either.” + +His nephew could not but admit, that the instances adduced by his uncle +were admirably calculated to illustrate his argument, and he accordingly +pursued the subject no further. + +“Ay!” exclaimed the Still-hound, “what d--d scrawl have we got here? Ay, +ay, why this is better than I expected.” + +“What is better, uncle?” said the nephew, venturing an experiment. + +“Why,” replied the sagacious old rascal, “for you to mind your business, +if you have any, and to let me mind mine, without making impertinent +inquiries, Master Harry.” With these words he went and. locked up both +letters in his desk. As we, however, possess the power of unlocking his +desk, and reading the letter to boot, we now take the liberty of laying +it in all its graphic beauty and elegance before our readers-- + +“To MISTHER KLINTON, SIR: + +“Af you go this nite bout seven clocks or thereaway, you'd find a +Still-Hed an' Worm At full work, in they tipper End iv The brown Glen in +Ahadarra. Sir, thrum wan iv Die amstrung's Orringemen an' a fren to the +axshize.” + +The gauger after breakfast again resumed the conversation as follows:-- + +“Have you changed your mind, Harry, regarding the Excise? because if you +have I think I may soon have an opportunity of getting you a berth.” + +“No, sir, I feel an insurmountable repugnance to the life of a +Still--hem.” + +“Go on, man, to the life of a Still-hunter. Very well. Your father's +death last year left you and your sister there dependent upon me, for +the present at least; for what could a medical man only rising into +practice, with a, family to support and educate, leave behind him?” + +“Unfortunately, sir, it is too true.” + +“In the mean time you may leave 'unfortunate' out, and thank God that +you had the shelter of my roof to come to; and be on your knees, too, +that I was a bachelor. Well, I am glad myself that I had and have a home +for you; but still, Harry, you ought to think of doing something for +yourself; for I may not live always, you know, and beside I am not rich. +You don't relish surgery, you say?” + +“I can't endure it, uncle.” + +“But you like farming?” + +“Above every other mode of life.” + +“Very well, I think it's likely I shall have a good farm to put you into +before long.” + +“Thank you, uncle. You may rest assured that both Maria and myself are +fully sensible of the kindness we have experienced at your hands.” + +“Small thanks to me for that. Who the devil would I assist, if not my +brother's orphans? It is true, I despise the world, but still we must +make our use of it. I know it consists of only knaves and fools. Now, I +respect the knaves; for if it were'nt for their roguery, the world would +never work; it would stand still and be useless. The fools I despise, +not so much because they are fools, as because they would be knaves if +they could; so that, you see I return again to my favorite principle of +honesty. I am going to Ballymacan on business, so good-bye to you both.” + +“Uncle,” said his nephew, “one word with you before you go.” + +“What is it?” + +“Would you suffer me to offer you a word of advice, and will you excuse +me for taking such a liberty with a man of your experience?” + +“Certainly, Harry, and shall always feel thankful to any one that gives +me good advice.” + +“If this is not good advice, it is at least well intended.” + +“Let us hear it first, and then we shall judge better.” + +“You say you will procure me a farm. Now, uncle, there is one thing +I should wish in connection with that transaction, which is, that you +would have no underhand--hem!--no private understanding of any kind with +Mr. Hycy Burke.” + +“Me a private understanding with Hycy Burke! What in the devil's name +has put such a crotchet as that into your head?” + +“I only speak as I do, because I believe you have received a private +communication from him.” + +“Have I, faith! If so I am obliged to you--but I am simply ignorant of +the fact you mention; for, with my own knowledge', I never received a +line from him in my life.” + +“Then I must be wrong,” replied Harry; “that is all.” + +“Wrong! Certainly you are wrong. Hycy Burke, I am told, is a compound +of great knave and gross fool, the knavery rather prevailing. But how is +this? Are not you and he inseparable?” + +“He is a companion, uncle, but not a friend in the true sense--nor, +indeed, in any sense of that word. I spoke now, however, with reference +to a particular transaction, and not to his general character.” + +“Well, then, I have no underhand dealings with him, as you are pleased +to call them, nor ever had. I never to my knowledge received a line from +him in my life; but I tell you that if he comes in my way, and that I +can make use of him, I will. Perhaps he may serve us in the Elections. +Have you anything else to ask?” + +“No sir,” replied Harry, laughing. “Only I hope you will excuse me for +the liberty I took.” + +“Certainly, with all my heart, and you shall be always welcome to take +the same liberty. Good-bye, again.” + +Clinton now felt satisfied that Hycy's letter to his uncle was an +anonymous one, and although he could not divine its contents, he +still felt assured that it was in some way connected with the farm +transaction, or at all events detrimental to Bryan M'Mahon. He +consequently resolved to see Hycy, against whom, or rather against +whose principles he was beginning to entertain a strong repugnance, and +without any hesitation to repudiate the engagement he had entered into +with him. + +He found Hycy at home, or rather he found him in conversation with Bat +Hogan behind his father's garden. + +“What was that ruffian wanting with you, Hycy, if it's a fair question?” + +“Perfectly,” said Hycy, “from you; but not in sooth from your worthy +uncle.” + +“How is that?” + +“Simply, he wants to know if I'd buy a keg of Poteen which, it seems, he +has to sell. I declined because I have a sufficiently ample stock of it +on hands.” + +“My uncle,” said Clinton, prefers it to any other spirits; indeed, at +home he never drinks any other, and whenever he dines, thanks those who +give it the preference.” + +“Come in, and let us have a glass of poteen grog, in the mean time,” + said Hycy, “for it's better still in grog than in punch. It's a famous +relish for a slice of ham; but, as the Scotch say, baith's best.” + +Having discussed the grog and ham, the conversation went on. + +“Hycy,” proceeded his companion, “with respect to that foolish +arrangement or bargain we made the other night, I won't have anything +to say or do in it. You shall impoverish or ruin no honest man on my +account. I was half drunk or whole drunk, otherwise I wouldn't have +listened to such a proposal.” + +“What do you mean?” said Hycy, with a look of very natural surprise, and +a pause of some time, “I don't understand you.” + +“Don't you remember the foolish kind of stipulation we entered into with +reference to M'Mahon's farm, of Ahadarra, on the one hand, and my most +amiable (d--n me but I ought to be horsewhipped for it) sister on the +other?” + +“No,” replied Hycy, “devil a syllable. My word and honor, Harry.” + +“Well, if you don't, then, it's all right. You didn't appear to be +tipsy, though.” + +“I never do, Harry. In that respect I'm the d--dest, hypocritical rascal +in Europe. I'm a perfect phenomenon; for, in proportion as I get drunk +in intellect, I get sober both in my carriage and appearance. However, +in Heaven's name let me know the bargain if there was one?” + +“No, no,” replied his friend, “it was a disgraceful affair on both +sides, and the less that's said of it the better.” + +By some good deal of persuasion, however, and an additional glass +of grog, he prevailed on Clinton to repeat the substance of the +stipulation; on hearing which, as if for the first time, he laughed very +heartily. + +“This liquor,” he proceeded, “is a strange compound, and puts queer +notions into our head. Why if there's an honest decent fellow in Europe, +whom I would feel anxious to serve beyond another, next to yourself, +Harry, it is Bryan M'Mahon. But why I should have spoken so, I can't +understand at all. In the first place, what means have of injuring +the man? And what is stronger still, what inclination have I, or could +have--and what is still better--should have?” + +“I do assure you it did not raise you in my opinion.” + +“Faith, no wonder, Harry, and I am only surprised you didn't speak to me +sooner about it. Still,” he proceeded, smiling, 'there is one portion +of it I should not wish to see cancelled--I mean your advocacy with Miss +Clinton.” + +“To be plain with you, Hycy, I wash my hands out of that affair too; I +won't promise advocacy.” + +“Well neutrality?” + +“The truth is, neither neutrality nor advocacy would avail a rush. +I have reason to think that my sister's objections against you are +insuperable.” + +“On what do they rest?” asked the other. + +“They are founded upon your want of morals,” replied Clinton. + +“Well, suppose I reform my morals?” + +“That is, substitute hypocrisy for profligacy; I fear, Hycy, the +elements of reformation are rather slight within you.” + +“Seriously, you do me injustice; and, besides, a man ought not to be +judged of his morals before marriage, but after.” + +“Faith, both before and after, in my opinion, Hycy. No well-educated, +right-minded girl would marry a man of depraved morals, knowing him to +be such.” + +“But I really am not worse than others, nor so bad as many. Neither +have I the reputation of being an immoral man. A little wild and +over-impulsive from animal spirits I may be, but all that will pass off +with the new state. No, no, d--n it, don't allow Miss Clinton to imbibe +such prejudices. I do not say that I am a saint; but I shall settle down +and bring her to church very regularly, and hear the sermon with most +edifying attention. Another glass of grog?” + +“No, no.” + +“But I hope and trust, my dear Harry, that you have not been making +impressions against me.” + +“Unquestionably not. I only say you have no chance whatever in that +quarter.” + +“Will you allow me to try?” asked Hycy. + +“I have not the slightest objection,” replied the other, “because I +know how it will result.” + +“Very well,--thank you even for that same, my dear Harry; but, seriously +speaking, I fear that neither you nor I are leading the kind of lives we +ought, and so far I cannot quarrel with your sister's principles. On +the contrary, they enable me to appreciate her if possible still more +highly; for a clear and pure standard of morals in a wife is not only +the best fortune but the best security for happiness besides. You might +stop and dine?” + +“No, thank you, it is impossible. By the way, I have already spoiled my +dinner with that splendid ham of yours. Give me a call when in town.” + +Hycy, after Clinton's departure, began to review his own position. Of +ultimately succeeding with Miss Clinton he entertained little doubt. So +high and confident was his vanity, that he believed himself capable of +performing mighty feats, and achieving great successes, with the fair +sex,--all upon the strength of having destroyed the reputation of two +innocent country girls. Somehow, notwithstanding his avowed attachment +for Miss Clinton, he could not help now and then reverting to the +rich beauty and magnificent form of Kathleen Cavanagh; nor was this +contemplation of his lessened by considering that, with all his +gentlemanly manners, and accomplishments, and wealth to boot, she +preferred the clod-hopper, as he called Bryan M'Mahon, to himself. + +He felt considerably mortified at this reflection, and the more +especially, as he had been frequently taunted with it and laughed at +for it by the country girls, whenever he entered into any bantering +conversation. A thought now struck him by which he could, as he +imagined, execute a very signal revenge upon M'Mahon through Kathleen, +and perhaps, ultimately upon Kathleen herself, if he should succeed +with Miss Clinton; for he did not at all forgive Kathleen the two public +instances of contempt with which she had treated him. There was still, +however, another consideration. His father had threatened to bring home +his brother Edward, then destined for the church, and altogether to +change his intentions in that respect. Indeed, from the dry and caustic +manner of the old man towards him of late, he began to entertain +apprehensions upon the subject. Taking therefore all these circumstances +into consideration, he resolved in any event to temporize a little, and +allow the father to suppose that he might be prevailed upon to marry +Kathleen Cavanagh. + +In the course of that evening, after dinner, while his father and he +were together and his mother not present, he introduced the subject +himself. + +“I think, Mr. Burke, if I remember correctly, you proposed something +like a matrimonial union between the unrivalled Katsey Cavanagh and the +accomplished Hycy.” + +“I did, God forgive me.” + +“I have been thinking over that subject since.” + +“Have you, indeed,” said his father; “an' am I to make Ned a priest or a +farmer?” he asked, dryly. + +“The church, I think, Mr. Burke, is, or ought to be, his destination.” + +“So, after all, you prefer to have my money and my property, along wid +a good wife, to your brother Ned--Neddy I ought to call him, out of +compliment to you--ha! ha! ha!” + +“Proceed, Mr. Burke, you are pleased to be facetious.” + +“To your brother Ned--Neddy--having them, and maybe along wid them the +same, wife too?” + +“No, not exactly; but out of respect to your wishes. + +“What's that?” said the old man, staring at him with a kind of comic +gravity--“out of respect to my wishes!” + +“That's what I've said,” replied the son. “Proceed.” + +His father looked at' him again, and replied, “Proceed yourself---it was +you introduced the subject. I'm now jack-indifferent about it.” + +“All I have to say,” continued Hycy, “is that I withdraw my ultimate +refusal, Mr. Burke. I shall entertain the question, as they say; and +it is not improbable but that I may dignify the fair Katsey with the +honorable title of Mrs. Burke.” + +“I wish you had spoken a little sooner, then,” replied his father, +“bekaise it so happens that Gerald Cavanagh an' I have the match between +her and your brother Ned as good as made.” + +“My brother Ned! Why, in the name of; all that's incredible, how could +that be encompassed?” + +“Very aisily,” said his father, “by the girl's waitin' for him. Ned is +rather young! yet, I grant you; he's nineteen, however, and two years +more, you know, will make him one-and-twenty--take him out o' chancery, +as they say.” + +“Very good, Mr. Burke, very good; in that case I have no more to say.” + +“Well,” pursued the father, in the same dry, half-comic, half-sarcastic +voice, “but what do you intend to do with yourself?” + +“As to that,” replied Hycy, who felt that the drift of the conversation +was setting in against him, “I shall take due time to consider.” + +“What height are you?” asked the father, rather abruptly. + +“I can't see, Mr. Burke, I really can't see what my height has to do +with the question.” + +“Bekaise,” proceeded the other, “I have some notion of putting you into +the army. You spoke of it wanst yourself, remimber; but then there's an +objection even to that.” + +“Pray, what is the objection, Mr. Burke?” + +“Why, it's most likely you'd have to fight--if you took to the milintary +trade.” + +“Why, upon my word, Mr. Burke, you shine in the sarcastic this evening.” + +“But, at any rate, you must take your chance for that. You're a fine, +active young fellow, and I suppose if they take to runnin' you won't be +the last of them.” + +“Good, Mr. Burke--proceed, though.” + +“An accordingly I have strong notions of buying you a corplar's or +a sargent's commission. A good deal of that, however, depends upon +yourself; but, as you say, I'll think of it.” + +Hycy, who could never bear ridicule, especially from the very man whom +he attempted to ridicule most, bounced up, and after muttering something +in the shape of an oath that was unintelligible, said, assuming all his +polite irony:-- + +“Do so, Mr. Burke; in the mean time I have the pleasure of wishing you a +very good evening, sir.” + +“Oh, a good-evening, sir,” replied the old fellow, “and when you come +home from the wars a full non-commissioned officer, you'll be scowerin' +up your halbert every Christmas an' Aisther, I hope; an' telling us long +stories--of all you killed an' ate while you were away from us.” + +Harry Clinton, now aware that the anonymous letter which his uncle had +received that morning was the production of Hycy, resolved to watch the +gauger's motions very closely. After a great deal of reflection upon +Hycy's want of memory concerning their bargain, and upon a close +comparison between his conduct and whole manner on the night in +question, and his own account of the matter in the course of their last +interview, he could not help feeling that his friend had stated a gross +falsehood, and that the pretended want of recollection was an ingenious +after-thought, adopted for the purpose of screening himself from the +consequences of whatever injury he might inflict upon Bryan M'Mahon. + +“Harry,” said his uncle, as nine o'clock approached, “I am going upon +duty tonight.” + +“In what direction, sir? may I ask.” + +“Yes, you may, but I'm not bound to tell you. In this instance, however, +there is no necessity for secrecy; it is now too late to give our +gentleman the hard word, so I don't care much if I do tell you. I am +bound for Ahadarra.” + +“For Ahadarra--you say for Ahadarra, uncle?” + +“I do, nephew.” + +“By heavens, he is the deepest and most consummate scoundrel +alive,” exclaimed Harry; “I now see it all. Uncle, I wish to God you +would--would---I don't know what to say.” + +“That's quite evident, nor what to think either. In the mean time the +soldiers are waiting for me in Ballymacan, and so I must attend to my +duty, Harry.” + +“Is it upon the strength of the blotted letter you got this morning, +sir, that you are now acting”?” + +“No, sir; but upon the strength of a sure spy dispatched this day to the +premises. I am a little too shrewd now, Master Harry, to act solely upon +anonymous information. I have been led too many devil's dances by it in +my time, to be gulled in my old age on the strength of it.” + +He immediately prepared himself for the excursion, mounted his horse, +that was caparisoned in a military saddle, the holsters furnished with a +case of pistols, which, with a double case that he had on his person and +two daggers, constituted his weapons of offence and defence. + +Their path lay directly to the south for about two miles. Having +traversed this distance they reached cross-roads, one of which branched +towards the left and was soon lost in a rough brown upland, into +which it branched by several little pathways that terminated in little +villages or solitary farmer's houses. For about two miles more they were +obliged to cross a dark reach of waste moor, where the soil was strong +and well capable of cultivation. Having avoided the villages and more +public thoroughfares, they pushed upward until they came into the black +heath itself, where it was impossible that horses could travel in such +darkness as then prevailed; for it was past ten o'clock, near the close +of December. Clinton consequently left his horse in the care of two +soldiers on a bit of green meadow by the side of Ahadarra Lough--a small +tarn or mountain lake about two hundred yards in diameter. They then +pushed up a long round swelling hill, on the other side of which was +a considerable stretch of cultivated land with Bryan M'Mahon's new and +improved houses at the head of it. This they kept to their right until +they came in sight of the wild but beautiful and picturesque Glen of +Althadhawan, which however was somewhat beyond the distance they had to +go. At length, after breasting another hill which was lost in the base +of Cullimore, they dropped down rapidly into a deep glen through which +ran a little streamlet that took its rise not a quarter of a mile above +them, and which supplied the apparatus for distillation with soft clear +water. This they followed until near the head of the glen, where, in a +position which might almost escape even a gauger's eye, they found the +object of their search. + +Tumbled around them in all directions were a quantity of gigantic +rocks thrown as it were at random during some Titanic war-fare or +diversion--between two of which the still-house was built in such a way, +that, were it not for the smoke in daylight, it would be impossible +to discover it, or at all events, to suppose that it could be the +receptacle of a human being. + +On entering, Clinton and his men were by no means surprised to find +the place deserted, for this in fact was frequently the case on such +occasions. On looking through the premises, which they did by the light +of a large fire, they found precisely that which had been mentioned in +Hycy's letter--to wit, the Still, the Head, and the Worm; but with the +exception of an old broken rundlet or two, and a crazy vessel of wash +that was not worth removing, there was nothing whatsoever besides. + +The Still was on the fire half filled with water, the Head was on the +Still, and the Worm was attached to the Head precisely as if they were +in the process of distillation. + +“Ay,” said Clinton, on seeing how matters stood, “I think I understand +this affair. It's a disappointment in one sense--but a sure enough card +in another. The fine is certain, and Ahadarra is most undoubtedly in for +it.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV.--State of the Country + +--Hycy's Friendship for Bryan M'Mahon--Bryan's Interview with his +Landlord. + + +M'Mahon's last interview with Fethertonge was of so cheering a nature, +and indicated on the part of that gentleman so much true and sterling +kindness towards the young man and his family, that he felt perfectly +satisfied on leaving him, and after having turned their conversation +over in his mind, that he might place every confidence in the assurance +he had given him. His father, too, who had never for a moment doubted +Feathertonge, felt equally gratified at Bryan's report of their +interview, as indeed did the whole family; they consequently spared +neither labor nor expense in the improvements which they were making on +their farms. + +The situation of the country and neighborhood at this period was indeed +peculiar, and such as we in this unhappy country have experienced +both before and since. I have already stated, that there was a partial +failure of the potato crop that season, a circumstance which uniformly +is the forerunner of famine and sickness. The failure, however, on that +occasion was not caused by a blight in the haulm, or to use plainer +words, by a sudden withering of the stalks, but by large portions of the +seed failing to grow. The partial scarcity, however, occasioned by this, +although it did not constitute what can with propriety be termed famine, +cause the great mass of pauperism which such a season always extends and +increases, to press so heavily upon the struggling farmers, that their +patience and benevolence became alike tired out and exhausted. This +perpetually recurring calamity acts with a most depressing effect +upon those persons in the country who have any claim to be considered +independent. It deprives them of hope, and consequently of energy, and +by relaxing the spirit of industry which has animated them, tends in +the course of time to unite them to the great body of pauperism which +oppresses and eats up the country. But let us not be misunderstood. This +evil alone is sufficiently disastrous to the industrial energies of +the class we mention; but when, in addition to this, the hitherto +independent farmer has to contend with high rents, want of sympathy in +his landlord, who probably is ignorant of his very existence, and has +never seen him perhaps in his life; and when it is considered that he is +left to the sharp practice and pettifogging, but plausible rapacity of +a dishonest agent, who feels that he is irresponsible, and may act the +petty tryant and vindictive oppressor if he wishes, having no restraint +over his principles but his interest, which, so far from restraining, +only guides and stimulates them;--when we reflect upon all this, and +feel, besides, that the political principles upon which the country is +governed are those that are calculated to promote British at the expense +of Irish interests--we say, when we reflect upon and ponder over all +this, we need not feel surprised that the prudent, the industrious, +and the respectable, who see nothing but gradual decline and ultimate +pauperism before them--who feel themselves neglected and overlooked, +and know that every sixth or seventh year they are liable to those +oppressive onsets of distress, sickness, and famine--we need not, we +repeat, feel at all surprised that those who constitute this industrious +and respectable class should fly from the evils which surround them, and +abandon, whilst they possess the power of doing so, the country in which +such evils are permitted to exist. + +It is upon this principle, or rather upon these principles, and for +these reasons, that the industry, the moral feeling, the independence, +and the strength of the country have been passing out of it for +years--leaving it, season after season, weaker, more impoverished, and +less capable of meeting those periodical disasters which, we may almost +say, are generated by the social disorder and political misrule of the +country. + +The fact is, and no reasonable or honest man capable of disencumbering +himself of political prejudices can deny it, that up until a recent +period the great body of the Irish people--the whole people--were mainly +looked upon and used as political instruments in the hands of the +higher classes, but not at all entitled to the possession of separate or +independent interests in their own right. It is true they were allowed +the possession of the forty-shilling franchise; but will any man say +that the existence of that civil right was a benefit to the country? So +far from that, it was a mere engine of corruption, and became, in +the hands of the Irish landlords, one of the most oppressive and +demoralizing curses that ever degraded a people. Perjury, fraud, +falsehood, and dishonesty, were its fruits, and the only legacy it +left to the country was an enormous mass of pauperism, and a national +morality comparatively vitiated and depraved, in spite of all religious +influence and of domestic affections that are both strong and tender. +Indeed it is exceedingly difficult to determine whether it has been more +injurious to the country in a political than in a moral sense. Be that +as it may, it had a powerful effect in producing the evils that we now +suffer, and our strong tendencies to social disorganization. By it the +landlords were induced, for the sake of multiplying, votes, to encourage +the subdivision of small holdings into those that were actually only +nominal or fictitious, and the consequences were, that in multiplying +votes they were multiplying families that had no fixed means of +subsistence--multiplying in fact a pauper population--multiplying not +only perjury, fraud, falsehood, and dishonesty, but destitution, misery, +disease and death. By the forty-shilling franchise, the landlords +encumbered the soil with a loose and unsettled population that +possessed within itself, as poverty always does, a fearful facility of +reproduction--a population which pressed heavily upon the independent +class of farmers and yeomen, but which had no legal claim upon the +territory of the country. The moment, however, when the system which +produced and ended this wretched class, ceased to exist, they became not +only valueless in a political sense, but a dead weight upon the energies +of the country, and an almost insuperable impediment to its prosperity. +This great evil the landlords could conjure up, but they have not been +able to lay it since. Like Frankenstein in the novel, it pursues them to +the present moment, and must be satisfied or appeased in some way, or +it will unquestionably destroy them. From the abolition of the franchise +until now, an incessant struggle of opposing interests has been going on +in the country. The “forties” and their attendants must be fed; but the +soul on which they live in its present state is not capable of at the +same time supporting them and affording his claims to the landlord; for +the food must go to England to pay the rents and the poor “forties” must +starve. They are now in the way of the landlord--they are now in the way +of the farmer--they are in fact in way of each other, and unless some +wholesome and human principle, either of domestic employment or colonial +emigration, or perhaps both, shall be adopted, they will continue to +embarrass the country, and to drive out of it, always in connection with +other causes, the very class of persons that constitute its remaining +strength. + +At the present period of our narrative the neighborhood of Ballymacan +was in an unsettled and distressful state. The small farmers, and such +as held from six to sixteen acres, at a rent which they could at any +period with difficulty pay, were barely able to support themselves and +their families upon the produce of their holdings, so that the claims +of the landlord were out of the question. Such a position as this to the +unhappy class we speak of, is only another name for ruin. The bailiff, +who always lives upon the property, seeing their condition, and knowing +that they are not able to meet the coming gale, reports accordingly +to the agent, who, now cognizant that there is only one look-up for the +rent, seizes the poor man's corn and cattle, leaving himself and +his family within cold walls, and at an extinguished hearth. In this +condition were a vast number in the neighborhood of the locality laid in +our narrative. The extraordinary, but natural anxiety for holding land, +and the equally ardent spirit of competition which prevails in the +country, are always ready arguments in the mouth of the landlord and +agent, when they wish to raise the rent or eject the tenant. “If you +won't pay me such a rent, there are plenty that will. I have been +offered more than you pay, and more than I ask, and you know I must look +to my own interests!” In this case it is very likely that the landlord +speaks nothing but the truth; and as he is pressed on by his necessities +on the one hand, and the tenant on the other, the state of a country so +circumstanced with respect to landed property and its condition may be +easily conceived. + +In addition, however, to all we have already detailed, as affecting +the neighborhood of Ahadarra, we have to inform our readers that the +tenantry upon the surrounding property were soon about to enjoy the +luxury of a contested election. Chevydale had been the sitting member +during two sessions of Parliament. He was, as we have already stated, +an Emancipator and Liberal; but we need scarcely say that he did not +get his seat upon these principles. He had been a convert to Liberalism +since his election, and at the approaching crisis stood, it was thought, +but an indifferent chance of being re-elected. The gentleman who had sat +before was a sturdy Conservative, a good deal bigoted in politics, but +possessing that rare and inestimable quality, or rather combination of +qualities which constitute an honest man. He was a Major Vanston, a man +of good property, and although somewhat deficient in the _suaviter in +modo_, yet in consequence of his worth and sincerity, he was rather a +favorite with the people, who in general relish sincerity and honesty +wherever they find them in public men. + +Having thus far digressed, we now beg leave to resume our narrative and +once more return, from the contemplation of a state of things so painful +to the progress of those circumstances which involve the fate of our +humble individuals who constitute our _dramatis personae_. + +The seizure of the distillery apparatus on M'Mahon's farm of Ahadarra, +was in a few days followed by knowledge of the ruin in which it must +necessarily involve that excellent and industrious young man. At +this time there was an act of parliament in existence against illicit +distillation, but of so recent a date that it was only when a seizure +similar to the foregoing had been made, that the people in any +particular district became acquainted with it. By this enactment the +offending individual was looked upon as having no farther violated +the laws in that case made and provided, than those who had never been +engaged in such pursuits at all. In other words, the innocent, were +equally punished with the guilty. A heavy fine was imposed--not on the +offender, but on the whole townland in which he lived; so that the +guilt of one individual was not visited as it ought to have been on the +culprit himself, but equally distributed in all its penalties upon the +other inhabitants of the district in question, who may have had neither +act nor part in any violation of the laws whatsoever. + +Bryan M'Mahon, on discovering the fearful position in which it placed +him, scarcely knew on what hand to turn. His family were equally +alarmed, and with just reason. Illicit distillation had been carried to +incredible lengths for the last two or three years, and the statute in +question was enacted with, a hope that it might unite the people in a +kind of legal confederacy against a system so destructive of industry +and morals. The act, however ill-judged, and impolitic at best, was not +merely imperative,--but fraught with ruin and bloodshed. It +immediately became the engine of malice and revenge between individual +enemies--often between rival factions, and not unfrequently between +parties instigated against each other by political rancor and hatred. +Indeed, so destructive of the lives and morals of the people was it +found, that in the course of a very few years it was repealed, but not +until it had led to repeated murders and brought ruin and destruction +upon many an unoffending and industrious family. + +Bryan now bethought him of the warnings he had received from the gauger +and Fethertonge, and resolved to see both, that he; might be enabled, +if possible, to trace to its source the plot that had been laid, for +his destruction. He accordingly went down to his father's at Carriglass, +where he had not been long when Hycy Burke made his appearance, “Having +come that far on his way,” he said, “to see him, and to ascertain +the truth of the report that had gone abroad respecting the heavy +responsibility under which the illicit distillation had placed him.” + Bryan was naturally generous and without suspicion; but notwithstanding +this, it was impossible that he should not entertain some slight +surmises touching the sincerity of Burke. + +“What is this, Bryan?” said the latter. “Can it be possible that you're +in for the Fine, as report goes?” + +“It's quite possible,” replied Bryan; “on yesterday I got a notice of +proceedings from the Board of Excise.” + +“But,” pursued his friend, “what devil could have tempted you to have +anything to do with illicit distillation? Didn't you know the danger of +it?” + +“I had no more to do with it,” replied Bryan, “than you had--nor I don't +even rightly know yet who had; though, indeed, I believe I may say it +was these vagabonds, the Hogans, that has their hands in everything +that's wicked and disgraceful. They would ruin me if they could,” said +Bryan, “and I suppose it was with the hope of doing so that they set up +the still where they did.” + +“Well, now,” replied Hycy, with an air of easy and natural generosity, +“I should be sorry to think so: they are d--d scoundrels, or rather +common ruffians, I grant you; but still, Bryan, I don't like to suspect +even such vagabonds without good grounds. Bad as we know them to be, I +have my doubts whether they are capable of setting about such an act +for the diabolical purpose of bringing you to ruin. Perhaps they merely +deemed the place on your farm a convenient one to build a still-house +in, and that they never thought further about it.” + +“Or what,” replied Bryan, “if there was some one behind their backs who +is worse than themselves? Mightn't sich a thing as that be possible?” + +“True,” replied Hycy, “true, indeed--that's not improbable. +Stay--no--well it may be--but--no--I can't think it.” + +“What is it you can't think?” + +“Why, such a thing might be,” proceeded Hycy, “if you have an enemy; but +I think, Bryan, you are too well liked--and justly so too--if you will +excuse me for saying so to your face--to have any enemy capable of going +such nefarious lengths as that.” + +Bryan paused and seemed a good deal struck with the truth of Hycy's +observation--“There's raison, sure enough in what you say, Hycy,” he +observed. “I don't know that I have a single enemy--unless the +Hogans themselves--that would feel any satisfaction in drivin' me to +destruction.” + +“And besides,” continued Hycy, “between you and me now, Bryan, who the +devil with an ounce of sense in his head would trust such scoundrels, or +put himself in their power?” + +Bryan considered this argument a still more forcible one than the other. + +“That's stronger still,” Re replied, “and indeed I am inclined to +think that after all, Hycy, it happened as you say. Teddy Phats I think +nothing at all about, for the poor, misshapen vagabone will distil +poteen for any one that employs him.” + +“True,” replied the other, “I agree with you; but what's to be done, +Bryan? for that's the main point now.” + +“I scarcely know,” replied Bryan, who now began to feel nothing but +kindness towards Hycy, in consequence of the interest which that young +fellow evidently took in his misfortune, for such, in serious truth, it +must be called. “I am the only proprietor of Ahadarra,” he proceeded, +“and, as a matter of course, the whole fine falls on my shoulders.” + +“Ay, that's the devil of it; but at all events, Bryan, there is nothing +got in this world without exertion and energy. Mr. Chevydale, +the Member, is now at home: he has come down to canvass for the +coming-election. I would recommend you to see him at once. You know--but +perhaps you don't though--that his brother is one of the Commissioners +of Excise; so that I don't know any man who can serve you more +effectually than Chevydale, if he wishes.” + +“But what could he do?” asked Bryan. + +“Why, by backing a memorial from you, stating the particulars, and +making out a strong case, he might get the fine reduced. I shall draw up +such a memorial if you wish.” + +“Thank you, Hycy--I'm obliged to you--these, I dare say, will be the +proper steps to take--thank you.” + +“Nonsense! but perhaps I may serve you a little in another way. I'm +very intimate with Harry Clinton, and who knows but I may be able to +influence the uncle a little through the nephew.” + +“It's whispered that you might do more through the niece,” replied +Bryan, laughing; “is that true?” + +“Nonsense, I tell you,” replied Hycy, affecting confusion; “for Heaven's +sake, Bryan, say nothing about that; how did it come to your ears?” + +“Faith, and that's more than I can tell you,” replied the other; “but I +know I heard it somewhere of late.” + +“It's not a subject, of course,” continued Hycy, “that I should wish to +become the topic of vulgar comment or conversation, and I'd much rather +you would endeavor to discountenance it whenever you hear it spoken of. +At all events, whether with niece or nephew,” proceeded Hycy, “you may +rest assured, that whatever service I can render you, I shall not +fail to do it. You and I have had a slight misunderstanding, but on +an occasion like this, Bryan, it should be a bitter one indeed that a +man--a generous man at least,--would or ought to remember.” + +This conversation took place whilst Bryan was proceeding to +Fethertonge's, Hycy being also on his way home. On arriving at the turn +of the road which led to Jemmy Burke's, Hycy caught the hand of his +companion, which he squeezed with an affectionate warmth, so cordial and +sincere in its character that Bryan cast every shadow of suspicion to +the winds, + +“Cheer up, Bryan, all will end better than you think, I hope. I shall +draw up a memorial for you this evening, as strongly and forcibly as +possible, and any other assistance that I can render you in this unhappy +difficulty I will do it. I know I am about ninety pounds in your debt, +and instead of talking to you in this way, or giving you fair words, +I ought rather to pay you your money. The 'gentleman,' however, is +impracticable for the present, but I trust--” + +“Not a word about it,” said Bryan, “you'll oblige me if you'll drop that +part of the subject; but listen, Hycy,--I think you're generous and a +little extravagant, and both is a good man's case--but that's not what +I'm going to spake about, truth's best at all times; I heard that you +were my enemy, and I was desired to be on my guard against you.” + +Hycy looked at him with that kind of surprise which is natural to an +innocent man, and simply said, “May I ask by whom, Bryan?” + +“I may tell you some other time,” replied Bryan, “but I won't now; all I +can say is, that I don't believe it, and I'm sure that ought to satisfy +you.” + +“I shall expect you to tell me, Bryan,” said the other, and then after +returning a few steps, he caught M'Mahon's hand again, and shaking +it warmly, once more added, “God bless you, Bryan; you are a generous +high-minded young fellow, and I only wish I was like you.” + +Bryan, after they had separated, felt that Hycy's advice was the very +best possible under the circumstances, and as he had heard for the first +time that Chevydale was in the country, he resolved to go at once and +state to him the peculiar grievance under which he labored. + +Chevydale's house was somewhat nearer Ahadarra than Fethertonge's, but +on the same line of road, and he accordingly proceeded to the residence +of his landlord. The mansion indeed was a fine one. It stood on the brow +of a gentle eminence, which commanded a glorious prospect of rich and +highly cultivated country. Behind, the landscape rose gradually until +it terminated in a range of mountains that protected the house from +the north. The present structure was modern, having been built by old +Chevydale, previous to his marriage. It was large and simple, but so +majestic in appearance, that nothing could surpass the harmony that +subsisted between its proportions and the magnificent old trees which +studded the glorious lawn that surrounded, it, and rose in thick +extensive masses that stretched far away behind the house. It stood in a +park, which for the beauties of wood and. water was indeed worthy of its +fine simplicity and grandeur--a park in which it was difficult to say +whether the beautiful, the picturesque, or the wild, predominated most. +And yet in this princely residence Mr. Chevydale did not reside more +than a month, or at most two, during the whole year. + +On reaching the hall-door, M'Mahon inquired from the servant who +appeared, if he could see Mr. Chevydale. + +“I'm afraid not,” said the servant, “but I will see; what's your name?” + +“Bryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, one of his tenants.” + +The servant returned to him in a few moments, and said, “Yes, he will +see you; follow me.” + +Bryan entered a library, where he found his landlord and Fethertonge +apparently engaged in business, and as he was in the act of doing so, he +overheard Chevydale saying--“No, no, I shall always see my tenants.” + +Bryan made his obeisance in his own plain way, and Chevydale said--“Are +you M'Mahon of Ahadarra?” + +“I am, sir,” replied Bryan. + +“I thought you were a much older man,” said Chevydale, “there certainly +must be, some mistake here,” he added, looking at Fethertonge. + +“M'Mahon of Ahadarra was a middle-aged man several years ago, but this +person is young enough to be his man.” + +“You speak of his uncle,” replied Fethertonge, “who is dead. This +young man, who now owns his uncle's farm, is son to Thomas M'Mahon of +Carriglass. How is your father, M'Mahon? I hope he bears up well under +his recent loss.” + +“Indeed but poorly, sir,” replied Bryan, “I fear he'll never be the same +man.” + +Chevydale here took to reading a newspaper, and in a minute or two +appeared to be altogether unconscious of Bryan's presence. + +“I'm afeard, sir,” said Bryan, addressing himself to the agent, who was +the only person likely to hear him, “I'm afeard, sir, that I've got into +trouble.” + +“Into trouble? how is that?” + +“Why, sir, there was a Still, Head, and Worm found upon Ahadarra, and +I'm going to be fined for it.” + +“M'Mahon,” replied the agent, “I am sorry to hear this, both on your own +account and that of your family. If I don't mistake, you were cautioned +and warned against this; but it was useless; yes, I am sorry for it; and +for you, too.” + +“I don't properly understand you, sir,” said Bryan. + +“Did I not myself forewarn you against having anything to do in matters +contrary to the law? You must remember I did, and on the very last +occasion, too, when you were in my office.” + +“I remember it right well, sir,” replied Bryan, “and I say now as I did +then, that I am not the man to break the law, or have act or part in +anything that's contrary to it. I know nothing about this business, +except that three ruffianly looking fellows named Hogan, common tinkers, +and common vagabonds to boot--men that are my enemies--are the persons +by all accounts who set up the still on my property. As for myself, I +had no more to do in it or with it than yourself or Mr. Chevydale here.” + +“Well,” replied Fethertonge, “I hope not. I should feel much +disappointed if you had, but you know, Bryan,” he added, good-humoredly, +“we could scarcely expect that you should admit such a piece of folly, +not to call it by a harsher name.” + +“If I had embarked in it,” replied M'Mahon, “I sartinly would not deny +it to you or Mr. Chevydale, at least; but, as I said before, I know +nothing more about it, than simply it was these ruffians and a fellow +named Phats, a Distiller, that set it a-working,--however, the question +is, what am I to do? If I must pay the fine for the whole townland, it +will beggar me--ruin me. It was that brought me to my landlord here,” he +added; “I believe, sir, you have a brother a Commissioner of Excise?” + +“Eh? what is that?” asked Chevydaie, looking up suddenly as Bryan asked +the question. + +M'Mahon was obliged to repeat all the circumstances once more, as did +Feathertonge the warning he had given him against having any connection +with illegal proceedings. + +“I am to get a memorial drawn up tomorrow, sir,” proceeded Bryan, “and I +was thinking that by giving the Board of Excise a true statement of the +case, they might reduce the fine; if they don't, I am ruined--that's +all.” + +“Certainly,” said his landlord, “that is a very good course to take; +indeed, your only course.” + +“I hope, sir,” proceeded Bryan, “that as you now know the true +circumstances of the case, you'll be kind, enough to support my +petition; I believe your brother, sir, is one of the Commissioners; +you would sartinly be able to do something with him.” + +“No,” replied Chevydaie, “I would not ask anything from him; but I +shall support your Petition, and try what I can do with the other +Commissioners. On principle, however, I make it a point never to ask +anything from my brother.” + +“Will I bring you the Petition, sir?” asked Bryan. + +“Fetch me the Petition.” + +“And Bryan,” said Fethertonge, raising his finger at him as if by way of +warning--and laughing--“hark ye, let this be the last.” + +“Fethertonge,” said the landlord, “I see 'Pratt has been found guilty, +and the sentence confirmed by the Commander-in-Chief.” + +“You will insist on it,” said Bryan, in reply to the agent, “but--” + +“There now, M'Mahon,” said the latter, “that will do; good day to you.” + +“I think it is a very harsh sentence, Fethertonge; will you touch the +bell?” + +“I don't know, sir,” replied the other, ringing as he spoke; “Neville's +testimony was very strong against him, and the breaking of the glass did +not certainly look like sobriety.” + +“I had one other word to say, gentlemen,” added M'Mahon, “if you'll +allow me, now that I'm here.” + +Fethertonge looked at him with a face in which might be read a painful +but friendly rebuke for persisting to speak, after the other had changed +the subject. “I rather think Mr. Chevydale would prefer hearing it some +other time, Bryan.” + +“But you know the proverb, sir,” said Bryan, smiling, “that there's no +time like the present; besides it's only a word.” + +“What is it?” asked the landlord. + +“About the leases, sir,” replied M'Mahon, “to know when it would be +convanient for you to sign them.” + +Chevydale looked, from Bryan to the agent, and again from the agent to +Bryan, as if anxious to understand what the allusion to leases meant. +At this moment a servant entered, saying, “The horses are at the door, +gentlemen.” + +“Come some other day, M'Mahon,” said Fethertonge; “do you not see that +we are going out to ride now--going on our canvass? Come to my office +some other day; Mr. Chevydale will remain for a considerable time in the +country now, and you need not feel so eager in the matter.” + +“Yes, come some other day, Mr.--Mr.--ay--M'Mahon; if there are leases +to sign, of course I shall sign them; I am always anxious to do my duty +as a landlord. Come, or rather Fethertonge here will manage it. You know +I transact no business here; everything is done at his office, unless +when he brings me papers to sign. Of course I shall sign any necessary +paper.” + +Bryan then withdrew, after having received another friendly nod of +remonstrance, which seemed to say, “Why will you thus persist, when you +see that he is not disposed to enter into these matters now? Am I not +your friend?” Still, however, he did not feel perfectly at ease with the +result of his visit. A slight sense of uncertainty and doubt crept over +him, and in spite of every effort at confidence, he found that that +which he had placed in Fethertonge, if it did not diminish, was most +assuredly not becoming stronger. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI.---A Spar Between Kate and Philip Hogan + +--Bryan M'Mahon is Cautioned against Political Temptation--He Seeks +Major Vanston's Interest with the Board of Excise. + + +The consequences of the calamity which was hanging over Bryan M'Mahon's +head, had become now pretty well understood, and occasioned a very +general and profound sympathy for the ruin in which it was likely to +involve him. Indeed, almost every one appeared to feel it more than he +himself did, and many, who on meeting him, were at first disposed to +offer him consolation, changed their purpose on witnessing his cheerful +and manly bearing under it. Throughout the whole country there was but +one family, with another exception, that felt gratified at the blow +which had fallen on him. The exception we speak of was no other than Mr, +Hycy Burke, and the family was that of the Hogans. As for Teddy +Phats, he was not the man to trouble himself by the loss of a moment's +indifference upon any earthly or other subject, saving and excepting +always that it involved the death, mutilation, or destruction in some +shape, of his great and relentless foe, the Gauger, whom he looked upon +as the impersonation of all that is hateful and villainous in life, and +only sent into this world to war with human happiness at large. +That great professional instinct, as the French say, and a strong +unaccountable disrelish of Hycy Burke, were the only two feelings that +disturbed the hardened indifference of his nature. + +One night, shortly after Bryan's visit to his landlord, the Hogans and +Phats were assembled in the kiln between the hours of twelve and one +o'clock, after having drunk nearly three quarts of whiskey among +them. The young savages, as usual, after the vagabond depredations or +mischievous exercises of the day, were snoring as we have described them +before; when Teddy, whom no quantity of liquor could affect beyond a +mere inveterate hardness of brogue and an indescribable effort at mirth +and melody, exclaimed--“Fwhy, dhen, dat's the stuff; and here's bad luck +to him that paid fwor it.” + +“I'll not drink it, you ugly _keout_,” exclaimed Philip, in his deep and +ruffianly voice; “but come--all o' yez fill up and drink my toast. Come, +Kate, you crame of hell's delights, fill till I give it. No,” he added +abruptly, “I won't drink that, you leprechaun; the man that ped for it +is Hycy Burke, and I like Hycy Burke for one thing, an' I'll not dhrink +bad luck to him. Come, are yez ready?” + +“Give it out, you hulk,” said Kate, “an' don't keep us here all night +over it.” + +“Here, then,” exclaimed the savage, with a grin of ferocious mirth, +distorting his grim colossal features into a smile that was frightful +and inhuman--“Here's may Bryan M'Mahon be soon a beggar, an' all his +breed the same! Drink it now, all o' yez, or, by the mortal counthryman, +I'll brain the first that'll refuse it.” + +The threat, in this case, was a drunken one, and on that very account +the more dangerous. + +“Well,” said Teddy, “I don't like to drink it; but if--” + +“_Honomondiaul!_ you d----d disciple,” thundered the giant, “down wid +it, or I'll split your skull!” + +Teddy had it down ere the words were concluded. + +“What!” exclaimed Hogan, or rather roared again, as he fastened his +blazing eyes on Kate--“what, you yalla mullotty, do you dar to refuse?” + +“Ay, do dar to refuse!--an' I'd see you fizzin' on the devil's +fryin'-pan, where you'll fiz yet, afore I'd dhrink it. Come, come,” she +replied, her eye blazing now as fiercely as his own, “keep quiet, I bid +you--keep calm; you ought to know me now, I think.” + +“Drink it,” he shouted, “or I'll brain you.” + +“Howl him,” said Teddy--“howl him; there's murdher in his eye. My soul +to happiness but he'll kill her.” + +“Will he, indeed?” said Bat, with a loud laugh, in which he was joined +by Ned--“will he, indeed?” they shouted. “Go on, Kate, you'll get +fair play if you want it--his eye, Teddy! ay, but look at her's, man +alive--look at her altogether! Go on, Kate--more power!” + +Teddy, on looking at her again, literally retreated a few paces from +sheer terror of the tremendous and intrepid fury who now stood before +him. It was then for the first time that he observed the huge bones and +immense muscular development that stood out into terrible strength +by the force of her rising passion. It was the eye, however, and the +features of the face which filled him with such an accountable dread. +The eyes were literally blazing, and the muscles of the face, now cast +into an expression which seemed at the same time to be laughter and +fury, were wrought up and blended together in such a way as made the +very countenance terrible by the emanation of murder which seemed to +break from every feature of it. “Drink it, I say again,” shouted Philip. +Kate made no reply, but, walking over to where he stood, she looked +closely into his eyes, and said, with grinding teeth--“Not if it was to +save you from the gallows, where you'll swing yet; but listen.” As she +spoke her words were hoarse and low, there was a volume of powerful +strength in her voice which stunned one like the roar of a lioness. +“Here,” she exclaimed, her voice now all at once rising or rather +shooting up to a most terrific scream--“here's a disgraceful death to +Hycy Burke! and may all that's good and prosperous in this world, ay, +and in the next, attend Bryan M'Mahon, the honest man! Now, Philip, my +man, see how I drink them both.” And, having concluded, she swallowed +the glass of whiskey, and again drawing her face within an inch of his +she glared right into his eyes. + +“Howl me,” he shouted, “or I'll sthrike, an' we'll have a death in the +house.” + +She raised one hand and waved it behind her, as an intimation that they +should not interfere. + +The laughter of the brothers now passed all bounds. “No, Kate, go on--we +won't interfere. You had better seize him.” + +“No,” she replied, “let him begin first, if he dar.” + +“Howl me,” shouted Philip, “she'll only be killed.” + +Another peal of laughter was the sole reply given to this by the +brothers. “He's goin',” they exclaimed, “he's gone--the white fedher's +in him--it's all over wid him--he's afeerd of her, an' not for nothing +either--ha! ha! ha! more power, Kate!” + +Stung by the contemptuous derision contained in this language, Philip +was stepping back in order to give himself proper room for a blow, when, +on the very instant that he moved, Kate, uttering something between a +howl and a yell, dashed her huge hands into his throat--which was, as +is usual with tinkers, without a cravat--and in a moment a desperate and +awful struggle took place between them. Strong as Philip was, he found +himself placed perfectly on the defensive by the terrific grip which +this furious opponent held of his throat. So powerful was it, indeed, +that not a single instant was allowed him for the exercise of any +aggressive violence against her by a blow, all his strength being +directed to unclasp her hands from his throat that he might be permitted +to breathe. As they pulled and tugged, however, it was evident that the +struggle was going against him--a hoarse, alarming howl once or twice +broke from him, that intimated terror and distress on his part. + +“That's right, Kate,” they shouted, “you have him--press tight--the +windpipe's goin'--bravo! he'll soon stagger an' come down, an' then you +may do as you like.” + +They tugged on, and dragged, and panted, with the furious vehemence of +the exertion; when at length Philip shouted, in a voice half-stifled by +strangulation, “Let g--o--o--o, I--I sa--y--y; ah! ah! ah!” + +Bat now ran over in a spirit of glee and triumph that cannot well be +described, and clapping his wife on the back, shouted--“Well done, +Kate; stick to him for half a minute and he's yours. Bravo! you clip o' +perdition, bravo!” + +He had scarcely uttered the words when the giant carcass of Philip +tottered and fell, dragging Kate along with it, who never for a moment +lost or loosened her hold. Her opponent now began to sprawl and kick +out his feet from a sense of suffocation, and in attempting to call for +assistance, nothing but low, deep gurgling noises could issue from his +lips, now livid with the pressure on his throat and covered with foam. +His face, too, at all times dark and savage, became literally black, and +he uttered such sternutations as, on seeing that they were accompanied +by the diminished struggles which betoken exhaustion, induced Teddy to +rush over for the purpose of rescuing him from her clutches. + +“Aisy,” said the others; “let them alone--a little thing will do it +now--it's almost over--she has given him his gruel--an' divil's cure to +him--he knew well enough what she could do--but he would have it.” + +Faint convulsive movements were all now that could be noticed in the +huge limbs of their brother, and still the savage tigress was at his +throat, when her husband at length said:-- + +“It's time, Ned--it's time--she may carry it too far--he's quiet enough +now. Come away, Kate, it's all right--let him alone--let go your hoult +of him.” + +Kate, however, as if she had tasted his blood, would listen to no such +language; all the force, and energies, and bloody instincts of the +incarnate fury were aroused within her, and she still stuck to her +victim. + +“Be japers she'll kill him,” shouted Bat, rushing to her; “come, +Ned, till we unclasp her--take care--pull quickly--bloody wars, he's +dead!--Kate, you divil!--you fury of hell! let go--let go, I say.” + +Kate, however, heard him not, but still tugged and stuck to the throat +of Philip's quivering carcass, until by a united effort they at length +disentangled her iron clutches from it, upon which she struggled and +howled like a beast of prey, and attempted with a strength that seemed +more akin to the emotion of a devil than that of a woman to get at him +again and again, in order to complete her work. + +“Come, Kate,” said her husband, “you're a Trojan--by japers you're a +Trojan; you've settled him any way--is there life in him?” he asked, “if +there is, dash wather or something in his face, an' drag him up out o' +that--ha! ha! Well done, Kate; only for you we'd lead a fine life wid +him--ay! an' a fine life that is--a hard life we led until you did +come--there now, more power to you--by the livin' Counthryman, there's +not your aquil in Europe--come now, settle down, an' don't keep all +movin' that way as if you wor at him again--sit down now, an' here's +another glass of whiskey for you.” + +In the mean time, Ned and Teddy Phats succeeded in recovering Philip, +whom they dragged over and placed upon a kind of bench, where in a few +minutes he recovered sufficiently to be able to speak--but ever and anon +he shook his head, and stretched his neck, and drew his breath deeply, +putting his hands up from time to time as if he strove to set his +windpipe more at ease. + +“Here Phil, my hairo,” said his triumphant brother Bat, “take another +glass, an' may be for all so strong and murdherin' as you are wid others +you now know--an' you knew before what our woman' can do at home wid +you.” + +“I've--hoch--hoch--I've done wid her--she's no woman; there's a devil +in her, an' if you take my advice, it's to Priest M'Scaddhan you'd bring +her, an' have the same devil prayed out of her--I that could murdher ere +a man in the parist a'most!” + +“Lave Bryan M'Mahon out,” said Kate. + +“No I won't,” replied Phil, sullenly, and with a voice still hoarse, +“no, I won't--I that could make smash of ere a man in the parish, to be +throttled into perdition by a blasted woman. She's a devil, I say; for +the last ten minutes I seen nothin' but fire, fire, fire, as red as +blazes, an' I hard somethin' yellin', yellin', in my ears.” + +“Ay!” replied Kate, “I know you did--that was the fire of hell you seen, +ready to resave you; an' the noise you hard was the voices of the devils +that wor comin' for your sowl--ay, an' the voices of the two wives you +murdhered--take care then, or I'll send you sooner to hell than you +dhrame of.” + +The scowl which she had in return for this threat was beyond all +description. + +“Oh, I have done wid you,” he replied; “you're not right, I say--but +never mind, I'll put a pin in M'Mahon's collar for this--ay will I.” + +“Don't!” she exclaimed, in one fearful monosyllable, and then she added +in a low condensed whisper, “or if you do, mark the consequence.” + +“Trot, Phil,” said Teddy, “I think you needn't throuble your head about +M'Mahon--he's done fwhor.” + +“An' mark me,” said Kate, “I'll take care of the man that done for him. +I know him well, betther than he suspects, an' can make him sup sorrow +whenever I like--an' would, too, only for one thing.” + +“An' fwhat's dhat wan thing?” asked Phats. + +“You'll know it when you're ouldher, may be,” replied Kate; “but you +must be ouldher first--I can keep my own secrets, thank God, an' will, +too--only mark me all o' yez; you know well what I am--let no injury +come to Bryan M'Mahon. For the sake of one person he must be safe.” + +“Well,” observed Teddy, “let us hear no more about them; it's all +settled that we are to set up in Glen Dearg above again--for this +Hycy,--who's sthrivin' to turn the penny where he can.” + +“It is,” said Bat; “an', to-morrow night, let us bring the things +up--this election will sarve us at any rate--but who will come in?” (* +That is, be returned.) + +“The villain of hell!” suddenly exclaimed Kate, as if to herself; “to +go to ruin the young man! That girl's breakin' her heart for what has +happened.” + +“What are you talkin' about?” asked her husband. + +“Nothing,” she replied; “only if you all intend to have any rest +to-night, throw yourselves in the shake-down there, an' go sleep. I'm +not to sit up the whole night here, I hope?” + +Philip, and Ned, and Teddy tumbled themselves into the straw, and in a +few minutes were in a state of perfect oblivion. + +“Hycy Burke is a bad boy, Bat,” she said, as the husband was about to +follow their example; “but he is marked--I've set my mark upon him.” + +“You appear to know something particular about him,” observed her +husband. + +“Maybe I do, an' maybe I don't,” she replied; “but I tell you, he's +marked--that's all--go to bed now.” + +He tumbled after the rest, Kate stretched herself in an, opposite +corner, and in a few minutes this savage orchestra was in full chorus. + +What an insoluble enigma is woman! From the specimen of feminine +delicacy and modest diffidence which we have just presented to the +reader, who would imagine that Kate Hogan was capable of entering into +the deep and rooted sorrow which Kathleen Cavanagh experienced when made +acquainted with the calamity which was about to crush her lover. Yet so +it was. In truth this fierce and furious woman who was at once a thief, +a liar, a drunkard, and an impostor, hardened in wickedness and deceit, +had in spite of all this a heart capable of virtuous aspirations, and +of loving what was excellent and good. It is true she was a hypocrite +herself, yet she detested Hycy Burke for his treachery. She was a thief +and a liar, yet she liked and respected Bryan M'Mahon for his truth and +honesty. Her heart, however, was not all depraved; and, indeed, it is +difficult to meet a woman in whose disposition, however corrupted by +evil society, and degraded by vice, there is not to be found a portion +of the angelic essence still remaining. In the case before us, however, +this may be easily accounted for. Kate Hogan, though a hell-cat and +devil, when provoked, was, amidst all her hardened violence and general +disregard of truth and honesty, a virtuous woman and a faithful wife. +Hence her natural regard for much that was good and pure, and her strong +sympathy with the sorrow which now fell upon Kathleen Cavanagh. + +Kathleen and her sister had been sitting sewing at the parlor window, on +the day Bryan had the interview we have detailed with Chevydale and the +agent, when they heard their father's voice inquiring for Hanna. + +“He has been at Jemmy Burke's, Kathleen,” said her sister, “and I'll +wager a nosegay, if one could get one, that he has news of this new +sweetheart of yours; he's bent, Kathleen,” she added, “to have you in +Jemmy Burke's family, cost what it may.” + +“So it seems, Hanna.” + +“They say Edward Burke is still a finer-looking young fellow than Hycy. +Now, Kathleen,” she added, laughing, “if you should spoil a priest +afther all! Well! un-likelier things have happened.” + +“That may be,” replied Kathleen, “but this won't happen for all that, +Hanna. Go, there he's calling for you again.” + +“Yes--yes,” she shouted; “throth, among you all, Kathleen, you're making +a regular go-between of me. My father thinks I can turn you round my +finger, and Bryan M'Mahon thinks--yes, I'm goin',” she answered again. +“Well, keep up your spirits; I'll soon have news for you about this +spoiled priest.” + +“Poor Hanna,” thought Kathleen; “where was there ever such a sister? She +does all she can to keep my spirits up; but it can't be. How can I see +him ruined and beggared, that had the high spirit and the true heart?” + +Hanna, her father, and mother, held a tolerably long discussion +together, in which Kathleen could only hear the tones of their voices +occasionally. It was evident, however, by the emphatic intonations of +the old couple, that they were urging some certain point, which her +faithful sister was deprecating, sometimes, as Kathleen could learn, by +seriousness, and at other times by mirth. At length she returned with +a countenance combating between seriousness and jest; the seriousness, +however, predominating. + +“Kathleen,” said she, “you never had a difficulty before you until now. +They haven't left me a leg to stand upon. Honest Jemmy never had any +wish to make Edward a priest, and he tells my father that it was all +a trick of the wife to get everything for her favorite; and he's now +determined to disappoint them. What will you do?” + +“What would you recommend me?” asked Kathleen, looking at her with +something of her own mood, for although her brow was serious, yet there +was a slight smile upon her lips. + +“Why,” said the frank and candid girl, “certainly to run away with Bryan +M'Mahon; that, you know, would settle everything.” + +“Would it settle my father's heart,” said Kathleen, “and my +mother's?--would it settle my own character?--would it be the step that +all the world would expect from Kathleen Cavanagh?--and putting all the +world aside, would it be a step that I could take in the sight of God, +my dear Hanna?” + +“Kathleen, forgive me, darlin',” said her sister, throwing her arms +about her neck, and laying her head upon her shoulder; “I'm a foolish, +flighty creature; indeed, I don't know what's to be done, nor I can't +advise you. Come out and walk about; the day's dry an' fine.” + +“If your head makes fifty mistakes,” said her sister, “your heart's an +excuse for them all; but you don't make any mistakes, Hanna, when +you're in earnest; instead of that your head's worth all our heads put +together. Come, now.” + +They took the Carriglass road, but had not gone far when they met Dora +M'Mahon who, as she said, “came down to ask them up a while, as the +house was now so lonesome;” and she added, with artless naivete, “I +don't know how it is, Kathleen, but I love you better now than I ever +did before. Ever since my darlin' mother left us, I can't look upon you +as a stranger, and now that poor Bryan's in distress, my heart clings to +you more and more.” + +Hanna, the generous Hanna's eyes partook of the affection and admiration +which beamed in Dora's, as they rested on Kathleen; but notwithstanding +this, she was about to give Dora an ironical chiding for omitting to +say anything gratifying to herself, when happening to look back, she saw +Bryan at the turn of the road approaching them. + +“Here's a friend of ours,” she exclaimed; “no less than Bryan M'Mahon +himself. Come, Dora, we can't go' up to Carriglass, but we'll walk back +with you a piece o' the way.” + +Bryan, who was then on his return from Chevydale's, soon joined them, +and they proceeded in the direction of his father's, Dora and Hanna +having, with good-humored consideration, gone forward as an advanced +guard, leaving Bryan and Kathleen to enjoy their tete-a-tete behind +them. + +“Dear Kathleen,” said Bryan, “I was very anxious to see you. You've +h'ard of this unfortunate business that has come upon me?” + +“I have,” she replied, “and I need not say that I'm sorry for it. Is it, +or will it be as bad as they report?” + +“Worse, Kathleen. I will have the fine for all Ahadarra to pay myself.” + +“But can nothing be done. Wouldn't they let you off when they come to +hear that, although the Still was found upon your land, yet it wasn't +yours, nor it wasn't you that was usin' it?” + +“I don't know how that may be. Hycy Burke tells me that they'll be apt +to reduce the fine, if I send them a petition or memorial, or whatever +they call it, an' he's to have one Written for me to-morrow.” + +“I'm afraid Hycy's a bad authority for anybody, Bryan.” + +“I don't think you do poor Hycy justice, Kathleen; he's not, in my +opinion, so bad as you think him. I don't know a man, nor I haven't +met a man that's sorrier for what has happened me; he came to see me +yesterday, and to know in what way he could serve me, an' wasn't called +upon to do so.” + +“I hope you're right, Bryan; for why should I wish Hycy Burke to be a +bad man, or why should I wish him ill? I may be mistaken in him, and I +hope I am.” + +“Indeed, I think you are, Kathleen; he's wild a good deal, I grant, +and has a spice of mischief in him, and many a worthy young fellow has +both.” + +“That's very true,” she replied; “however, we have h'ard bad enough of +him. There's none of us what we ought to be, Bryan. If you're called +upon to pay this fine, what will, be the consequence?” + +“Why, that I'll have to give up my farm--that I won't be left worth +sixpence.” + +“Who put the still up in Ahadarra?” she inquired. “Is it true that it +was the Hogan's?” + +“Indeed I believe there's no doubt about it,” he replied; “since I +left the landlord's, I have heard what satisfies me that it was them and +Teddy Phats.” + +Kathleen paused and sighed. “They are a vile crew,” she added, after a +little; “but, be they what they may, they're faithful and honest, and +affectionate to our family; an' that, I believe, is the only good about +them. Bryan, I am very sorry for this misfortune that has come upon you. +I am sorry for your own sake.” + +“And I,” replied Bryan, “am sorry for--I was goin' to say--yours; but +it would be, afther all, for my own. I haven't the same thoughts of you +now, dear Kathleen.” + +She gazed quickly, and with some surprise at him, and asked, “Why so, +Bryan?” + +“I'm changed--I'm a ruined man,” he replied; “I had bright hopes of +comfort and happiness--hopes that I doubt will never come to pass. +However,” he added, recovering himself, and assuming a look of +cheerfulness, “who knows if everything will turnout so badly as we +fear?” + +“That's the spirit you ought to show,” returned Kathleen; “You have +before you the example of a good father; don't be cast down, nor look +at the dark side; but you said you had not the same thoughts of me just +now; I don't understand you.” + +“Do you think,” he replied, with a smile, “that I meant to say my +affection for you was changed? Oh, no, Kathleen; but that my situation +is changed, or soon will be so; and that on that account we can't be the +same thing to one another that we have been.” + +“Bryan,” she replied, “you may always depend upon this, that so long as +you are true to your God and to yourself, I will be true to you. Depend +upon this once and forever.” + +“Kathleen, that's like yourself, but I could not think of bringing you +to shame.” He paused, and turning his eyes full upon her, added--“I'm +allowin' myself to sink again. Everything will turn out better than we +think, plaise God.” + +“I hope so,” she added, “but whatever happens, Bryan do you always act +an open, honest, manly part, as I know you will do; act always so as +that your conscience can't accuse you, or make you feel that you have +done anything that is wrong, or unworthy, or disgraceful; and then, dear +Bryan, welcome poverty may you say, as I will welcome Bryan M'Mahon with +it.” + +Both had paused for a little on their way, and stood for about a minute +moved by the interest which each felt in what the other uttered. As +Bryan's eye rested on the noble features and commanding figure of +Kathleen, he was somewhat started by the glow of enthusiasm which +lit both her eye and her cheek, although he was too unskilled in the +manifestations of character to know that it was enthusiasm she felt. + +They then proceeded, and after a short silence Bryan observed--“Dear +Kathleen, I know the value of the advice you are giving me, but will you +let me ask if you ever seen anything in my conduct, or heard anything in +my conversation, that makes you think it so necessary to give it to me?” + +“If I ever had, Bryan, it's not likely I'd be here at your side this day +to give it to you; but you're now likely to be brought into trials and +difficulties--into temptation--and it is then that you may think maybe +of what I'm sayin' now.” + +“Well, Kathleen,” he replied, smiling, “you're determined at all events +that the advice will come before the temptation; but, indeed, my own +dearest girl, my heart this moment is proud when I think that you are +so full of truth, an' feelin', and regard for me, as to give me such +advice, and to be able to give it. But still I hope I won't stand in +need of it, and that if the temptations you spoke of come in my way, +I will have your advice--ay, an' I trust in God the adviser, too--to +direct me.” + +“Are you sure, Bryan,” and she surveyed him closely as she spoke--“are +you sure that no part of the temptation has come across you already?” + +He looked surprised as she asked him this singular question. “I am,” + said he; “but, dear Kathleen, I can't rightly understand you. What +temptations do you mane?” + +“Have you not promised to vote for Mr. Vanston, the Tory candidate, who +never in his life voted for your religion or your liberty?” + +“Do you mane me, dearest Kathleen?” + +“You, certainly; who else could I mean when I ask you the question?” + +“Why, I never promised to vote for Vanston,” he replied; “an' what is +more--but who said I did?” + +“On the day before yesterday,” she proceeded, “two gentlemen came to our +house to canvass votes, and they stated plainly that you had promised to +vote for them--that is for Vanston.” + +“Well, Kathleen, all I can say is, that the statement is not true. +I didn't promise for Vanston, and they did not even ask me. Are you +satisfied now? or whether will you believe them or me?” + +“I am satisfied, dear Bryan; I am more than satisfied; for my heart +is easy. Misfortune! what signifies mere misfortune, or the loss of a +beggarly farm?” + +“But, my darling Kathleen, it is anything but a beggarly farm.” + +Kathleen, however, heard him not, but proceeded. “What signifies +poverty, Bryan, or struggle, so long as the heart is right, and the +conscience clear and without a spot? Nothing--oh, nothing! As God is to +judge me, I would rather beg my bread with you as an honest man, true, +as I said awhile ago, to your God and your religion, than have an estate +by your side, if you could prove false to either.” + +The vehemence with which she uttered these sentiments, and the fire +which animated her whole mind and manner, caused them to pause again, +and Bryan, to whom this high enthusiasm was perfectly new, now saw with +something like wonder, that the tears were flowing down her cheeks. + +He caught her hand and said “My own darling Kathleen, the longer I know +you the more I see your value; but make your mind easy; when I become a +traitor to either God or my religion, you may renounce me!” + +“Don't be surprised at these tears, Bryan; don't, my dear Bryan; for you +may look upon them as a proof of how much I love you, and what I would +feel if the man I love should do anything unworthy, or treacherous, to +his religion or his suffering country.” + +“How could I,” he replied, “with my own dear Kathleen, that will be a +guardian angel to me, to advise and guide me? Well, now that your mind +is aisy, Kathleen, mine I think is brighter, too. I have no doubt but +we'll be happy yet--at least I trust in God we will. Who knows but +everything may prove betther than our expectations; and as you say, they +may make a poor man of me, and ruin me, but so long as I can keep my +good name, and am true to my country, and my God, I can never complain.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII.--Interview between Hycy and Finigan + +--The Former Propones for Miss Clinton--A love Scene + + +Hycy, after his conversation with Bryan M'Mahon, felt satisfied that he +had removed all possible suspicion from himself, but at the same time he +ransacked his mind in order to try who it was that had betrayed him to +Bryan. The Hogans he had no reason to suspect, because from experience +he knew them to be possessed of a desperate and unscrupulous fidelity, +in excellent keeping with their savage character; and to suspect Teddy +Phats, was to suppose that an inveterate and incurable smuggler would +inform upon him. After a good deal of cogitation, he at length came +to the conclusion that the school-master, Finigan, must have been +the traitor, and with this impression he resolved to give that worthy +personage a call upon his way home. He found him as usual at full work, +and as usual, also, in that state which is commonly termed half drunk, a +state, by the way, in which the learned pedagogue generally contrived +to keep himself night and day. Hycy did not enter his establishment, but +after having called him once or twice to no purpose--for such was the +din of the school that his voice could not penetrate it--he at length +knocked against the half open door, which caused him to be both seen +and heard more distinctly. On seeing him, the school-master got to his +limbs, and was about to address him, when Hycy said-- + +“Finigan, I wish to speak a few words to you.” + +“O'Finigan, sir--O'Finigan, Mr. Burke. It is enough, sir, to be deprived +of our hereditary territories, without being clipped of our names; they +should lave us those at all events unmutilated. O'Finigan, therefore, +Mr. Burke, whenever you address me, if you plaise.” + +“Well, Mr. O'Finigan,” continued Hycy, “if not inconvenient, I should +wish to speak a few words with you.” + +“No inconvenience in the world, Mr. Burke; I am always disposed to +oblige my friends whenever I can do so wid propriety. My advice, sir, +my friendship, and my purse, are always at their service. My advice to +guide them--my friendship to sustain--and my purse--hem!--ha, ha, ha--I +think. I may clap a payriod or full stop there,” he added, laughing, +“inasmuch as the last approaches very near to what philosophers term a +vacuum or nonentity. Gintlemen,” he proceeded, addressing the scholars, +“I am going over to Lanty Hanratty's for a while to enjoy a social cup +wid Mr. Burke here, and as that fact will cause the existence of a short +interegnum, I now publicly appoint Gusty Carney as my _locum tenens_ +until I resume the reins of government on my return. Gusty, put the +names of all offenders down on a slate, and when I return 'condign' +is the word; an' see, Gusty--mairk me well--no bribery--no bread +nor buttons, nor any other materials of corruption from the +culprits--otherwise you shall become their substitute in the +castigation, and I shall teach you to look one way and feel another, my +worthy con-disciple.” + +“Now, Finigan--I beg your pardon--O'Finigan,” said Hycy, when they were +seated in the little back tap-room of the public-house with refreshments +before them, “I think I have reason to be seriously displeased with +you.” + +“Displeased with me!” exclaimed his companion; “and may I take the +liberty to interrogate wherefore, Mr. Hycy?” + +“You misrepresented me to Bryan M'Mahon,” said Hycy. + +“Upon what grounds and authority do you spake, sir?” asked Finigan, +whose dignity was beginning to take offence. + +“I have good grounds and excellent authority for what I say,” replied +Hycy. “You have acted a very dishonorable part, Mr. Finigan, and the +consequence is that I have ceased to be your friend.” + +“I act a dishonorable part. Why, sir, I scorn the imputation; but how +have I acted a dishonorable part? that's the point.” + +“You put Bryan M'Mahon upon his guard against me, and consequently left +an impression on his mind that I was his enemy.” + +“Well,” said the other, with a good deal of irony, “that is good! Have +I, indeed? And pray, Mr. Burke, who says so?” + +“I have already stated that my authority for it is good.” + +“But you must name you authority, sir, no lurking assassin shall be +permitted wid impunity to stab my fair reputation wid the foul dagger of +calumny and scandal. Name your authority, sir?” + +“I could do so.” + +“Well, sir, why don't you? Let me hear the name of the illiterate +miscreant, whoever he is, that has dared to tamper with my unblemished +fame.” + +“All I ask you,” continued Hycy, “is to candidly admit the fact, and +state why you acted as you did.” + +“Name your authority, sir, and then I shall speak. Perhaps I did, and +perhaps I did not; but when you name your authority I shall then +give you a more satisfactory reply. That's the language--the elevated +language--of a gentleman, Mr. Burke.” + +“My authority then is no other than Bryan M'Mahon himself,” replied +Hycy, “who told me that he was cautioned against me; so that I hope +you're now satisfied.” + +“Mr. Burke,” replied Finigan, assuming a lofty and impressive manner, +“I have known the M'Mahons for better than forty years; so, in fact, has +the country around them; and until the present moment I never heard that +a deliberate falsehood, or any breach of truth whatsoever, was imputed +to any one of them. Tom M'Mahon's simple word was never doubted, and +would pass aquil to many a man's oath; and it is the same thing wid the +whole family, man and women. They are proverbial, sir, for truth +and integrity, and a most spontaneous effusion of candor under all +circumstances. You will pardon me then, Mr. Hycy, if I avow a trifle of +heresy in this matter. You are yourself, wid great respect be it spoken, +sometimes said to sport your imagination occasionally, and to try your +hand wid considerable success at a _lapsus veritatis_. Pardon me, then, +if I think it somewhat more probable that you have just now stated what +an ould instructor of mine used to call a moral thumper; excuse me, I +say; and at all events I have the pleasure of drinking your health; and +if my conjecture be appropriate, here's also a somewhat closer adhesion +to the _veritas_ aforesaid to you!” + +“Do you mean to insinuate that I'm stating what is not true?” said +Burke, assuming an offended look, which, however, he did not feel. + +“No, sir,” replied Finigan, retorting his look with one of indignant +scorn, “far be it from me to insinuate any such thing. I broadly, and +in all the latitudinarianism of honest indignation, assert that it is a +d--d lie, begging your pardon, and drinking to your moral improvement a +second time; and ere you respond to what I've said, it would be as well, +in order to have the matter copiously discussed, if you ordhered in +a fresh supply of liquor, and help yourself, for, if the proverb be +true--_in vino veritas_--there it is again, but truth will be out, you +see--who knows but we may come to a thrifle of it from you yet? Ha! ha! +ha! Excuse the jest, Mr. Hycy. You remember little Horace,-- + + “'Quid vetat ridentem dicere verum?'” + +“Do you mean to say, sirra,” said Hycy, “that I have stated a lie?” + +“I mean to say that whoever asserts that I misrepresented you in any way +to Bryan M'Mahon, or ever cautioned him against you, states a lie of the +first magnitude--a moral thumper, of gigantic dimensions.” + +“Well, will you tell me what you did say to him?” + +“What I did say,” echoed Finigan. “Well,” he added, after a pause, +during which he I surveyed Hycy pretty closely--having now discovered +that he was, in fact, only proceeding upon mere suspicion--“I believe +I must acknowledge a portion of the misrepresentation. I must, on +secondary consideration, plead guilty to that fact.” + +“I thought as much,” said Hycy. + +“Here then--,” proceeded Finigan, with a broad and provoking grin +upon his coarse but humorous features, “here, Mr. Hycy, is what I +did say--says I, 'Bryan, I have a word to say to you, touching an +accomplished young gentleman, a friend of yours.' + +“'What is that?' asked the worthy Beit-nardus. + +“'It is regarding the all-accomplished Mr. Hyacinthus Burke,' I replied, +'who is a _homo-factus ad unguem_. Mr. Burke, Bryan,' I proceeded, 'is a +gentleman in the--hem--true sense of that word. He is generous, candid, +faithful, and honest; and in association wid all his other excellent +qualities, he is celebrated, among the select few who know him best, +for an extraordinary attachment to--truth.' Now, if that wasn't +misrepresentation, Mr. Hycy, I don't know what was. Ha! ha! ha!” + +“You're half drunk,” replied Hycy, “or I should rather say whole drunk, +I think, and scarcely know what you're saying; or rather, I believe +you're a bit of a knave, Mr. O'Finigan.” + +“Thanks, sir; many thanks for the prefix. Proceed.” + +“I have nothing more to add,” replied Hycy, rising up and preparing to +go. + +“Ay,” said Finigan, with another grin, “a bit of a knave, am I? Well, +now, isn't it better to be only a bit of a knave than a knave all out--a +knave in full proportions, from top to toe, from head to heel--like some +accomplished gentlemen that I have the! honor of being acquainted wid. +But in the I meantime, now, don't be in a hurry, man alive, nor look +as if you were fatted on vinegar. Sit down again; ordher in another +libation, and I shall make a disclosure that will be worth your waiting +for.” + +“You shall have the libation, as you call it, at all events,” said Hycy, +resuming his seat, but feeling, at the same time, by no means satisfied +with the lurking grin which occasionally played over Finigan's features. + +After much chat and banter, and several attempts on the part of Hycy to +insinuate himself into the pedagogue's confidence, he at length rose +to go. His companion was now in that state which strongly borders on +inebriety, and he calculated that if it were possible to worm anything +out of him, he was now in the best condition for it. Every effort, +however, was in vain; whenever he pressed the schoolmaster closely, the +vague, blank expression of intoxication disappeared for a moment, and +was replaced by the broad, humorous ridicule, full of self-possession +and consciousness, which always characterized Finigan, whether drunk or +sober. The man was naturally cunning, and ranked among a certain class +of topers who can be made drunk to a certain extent, and upon some +particular subjects, but who, beyond that, and with these limitations, +defy the influence of liquor. + +Hycy Burke was one of those men who, with smart and showy qualities +and great plausibility of manner, was yet altogether without purpose +or steadfast principle in the most ordinary affairs of life. He had no +fixed notions upon either morals, religion, or politics; and when we +say so, we may add, that he was equally without motive--that is, without +_adequate_ motive, in almost everything he did. + +The canvass was now going on with great zeal on the part of Chevydale +and Vanston. Sometimes Hycy was disposed to support the one and +sometimes the other, but as to feeling a firm attachment to the cause or +principles of either, it was not in his nature. + +Indeed, the approach of a general election was at all times calculated +to fill the heart of a thinking man with a strong sense of shame for his +kind, and of sorrow for the unreasoning and brutal tendency to slavery +and degradation which it exhibits. Upon this occasion the canvass, in, +consequence of the desperate struggle that must ensue, owing to the +equality of the opposing forces, was a remarkably early one. Party +feeling and religious animosity, as is usual, ran very high, each having +been made the mere stalking-horse or catchword of the rival candidates, +who cared nothing, or at least very little, about the masses on either +side, provided always that they could turn them to some advantage. + +It was one morning after the canvass had been going forward with great +activity on both sides for about a week, that Hycy, who now felt himself +rather peculiarly placed, rode down to Clinton's for the purpose of +formally paying his addresses to the gauger's interesting niece, and, +if possible, ascertaining his fate from her own lips. His brother Edward +had now been brought home in accordance with the expressed determination +of his father, with whom he was, unquestionably, a manifest favorite, a +circumstance which caused Hycy to detest him, and also deprived him in a +great degree of his mother's affection. Hycy had now resolved to pay his +devoirs to Kathleen Cavanagh, as a _dernier_ resort, in the event of +his failing with Miss Clinton; for, as regarding affection, he had +no earthly conception what it I meant. With this view he rode down to +Clinton's as we said, and met Harry coming out of the stable. + +“Harry,” said he, after his horse was put I up, “I am about to ask an +interview with your sister.” + +“I don't think she will grant it,” replied her brother, “you are by no +means a favorite; with her; however, you can try; perhaps she may. You +know the old adage, '_varium et imutabile semper_.' Who knows but she +may have changed her mind?” + +“Is your uncle within?” asked Hycy. + +“No,” replied his nephew, “he's gone to Fethertonge's upon some election +business.” + +“Could you not contrive,” said Hycy, “to leave her and me together, +then, and allow me to ascertain what I am to expect?” + +“Come in,” said Harry--“never say it again. If I can I will.” + +Hycy, as we have stated before, had vast confidence in his own powers of +persuasion; and general influence with women, and on this occasion, his +really handsome features were made vulgar by a smirk of self-conceit +which he could not conceal, owing to his natural vanity and a +presentiment of success that is almost inseparable from persons of his +class, who can scarcely look even upon the most positive and decided +rejection by a woman as coming seriously from her heart. Even Harry +Clinton himself, though but a young man, thought, as he afterwards +stated to his sister, that he never saw Hycy have so much the appearance +of a puppy as upon that occasion. As had been proposed, he withdrew, +however, and the lover being left in the drawing-room with Miss Clinton +began, with a simper that was rather coxcombical, to make allusions to +the weather, but in such a way as if there was some deep but delightful +meaning veiled under his commonplaces. At length he came directly to the +'point. + +“But passing from the weather, Miss Clinton, to a much more agreeable +topic, permit me to ask if you have ever turned your thoughts upon +matrimony?” + +The hectic of a moment, as Sterne. says, accompanied by a look that +slightly intimated displeasure, or something like it, was the only reply +he received for a quarter of a minute, when she said, after the feeling +probably had passed away--“No, indeed, Mr. Burke, I have not.” + +“Come, come, Miss Clinton,” said Hycy, with another smirk, “that won't +pass. Is it not laid down by the philosophers that you think of little +else from the time you are marriageable?” + +“By what philosophers?” + +“Why, let me see--by the philosophers in general--ha! ha! ha!” + +“I was not aware of that,” she replied; “but even if they have so ruled +it, I see no inference we can draw from that, except their ignorance of +the subject.” + +“It is so ruled, however,” said Hycy, “and philosophy is against you.” + +“I am willing it should, Mr. Burke, provided we have truth with us.” + +“Very good, indeed, Miss Clinton--that was well said; but, seriously, +have you ever thought of marriage?” + +“Doesn't philosophy say that we seldom think of anything else?” she +replied, smiling. Ask philosophy, then.” + +“But this really is a subject in which I feel a particular interest--a +personal interest; but, as for philosophy, I despise it--that is as it +is usually understood. The only philosophy of life is love, and that is +my doctrine.” + +“Is that your only doctrine?” + +“Pretty nearly; but it is much the same as that which appears in the +world under the different disguises of religion.” + +“I trust you do not mean to assert that love and religion are the same +thing, Mr. Burke?” + +“I do; the terms are purely convertible. Love is the universal religion +of man, and he is most religious who feels it most; that is your only +genuine piety. For instance, I am myself in a most exalted state of that +same piety this moment, and have been so for a considerable time past.” + +Miss Clinton felt a good deal embarrassed by the easy profligacy that +was expressed in these sentiments, and she made an effort to change the +subject. + +“Are you taking part in the canvass which is going on in the country, +Mr. Burke?” + +“Not much,” said he; “I despise politics as much as I cherish the little +rosy god; but really, Miss Clinton, I feel anxious to know your opinions +on marriage, and you have not stated them. Do you not think the nuptial +state the happiest?” + +“It's a subject I feel no inclination whatsoever to discuss, Mr. Burke; +it is a subject which, personally speaking, has never occupied from me +one moment's thought; and, having said so much, I trust you will have +the goodness to select some other topic for conversation.” + +“But I am so circumstanced, just now, Miss Clinton, that I cannot really +change it. The truth is, that I have felt very much attached to you for +some time past--upon my word and honor I have: it's a fact, I assure +you, Miss Clinton; and I now beg to make you a tender of myself +and--and--of all I am possessed of. I am a most ardent admirer of yours; +and the upmost extent of my ambition is to become an accepted one. Do +then, my dear Miss Clinton, allow me the charming privilege--pray, do.” + +“What will be the consequence if I do not?” she replied, smiling. + +“Upon my word and honor, I shall go nearly distracted, and get quite +melancholy; my happiness depends upon you, Miss Clinton; you are a very +delightful girl, quite a _nonpareil_, and I trust you will treat me with +kindness and consideration.” + +“Mr. Burke,” replied the lady, “I am much obliged for the preference you +express for me; but whether you are serious or in jest, I can only say +that I have no notion of matrimony; that I have never had any notion of +it; and that I can safely say, I have never seen the man whom I should +wish to call my husband. You will oblige me very much, then, if in +future you forbear to introduce this subject. Consider it a forbidden +one, so far as I am concerned, for I feel quite unworthy of so gifted +and accomplished a gentleman as Mr. Burke.” + +“You will not discard me surely, Miss Clinton?” + +“On that subject, unquestionably.” + +“No, no, my dear Miss Clinton, you will not say so; do not be so cruel; +you will distress me greatly, I assure you. I am very much deficient in +firmness, and your cruelty will afflict me and depress my spirits.” + +“I trust not, Mr. Burke. Your spirits are naturally good, and I have +no doubt but you will ultimately overcome this calamity--at least I +sincerely hope so.” + +“Ah, Miss Clinton, you little know the heart I have, nor my capacity for +feeling; my feelings, I assure you, are exceedingly tender, and I +get quite sunk under disappointment. Come, Miss Clinton, you must not +deprive me altogether of hope; it is too cruel. Do not say no forever.” + +The arch girl shook her head with something of mock solemnity, and +replied, “I must indeed, Mr. Burke; the fatal no must be pronounced, +and in connection with forever too; and unless you have much virtue +to sustain you, I fear you run a great risk of dying a martyr to a +negative. I would fain hope, however, that the virtue I allude to, and +your well-known sense of religion, will support you under such a trial.” + +This was uttered in a tone of grave ironical sympathy that not only gave +it peculiar severity, but intimated to Hycy that his character was fully +understood. + +“Well, Miss Clinton,” said he, rising with a countenance in which there +was a considerable struggle between self-conceit and mortification, a +struggle which in fact was exceedingly ludicrous in its effect, “I must +only hope that you probably may change your mind.” + +“Mr. Burke,” said she, with a grave and serious dignity that was +designed to terminate the interview, “there are subjects upon which a +girl of delicacy and principle never can change her mind, and this I +feel obliged to say, once for all, is one of them. I am now my uncle's +housekeeper,” she added, taking up a bunch of keys, “and you must permit +me to wish you a good morning,” saying which, with a cool but very +polite inclination of her head, she dismissed Hycy the accomplished, who +cut anything but a dignified figure as he withdrew. + +“Well,” said her brother, who was reading a newspaper in the parlor, “is +the report favorable?” + +“No,” replied Hycy, “anything but favorable. I fear, Harry, you have not +played me fair in this business.” + +“How is that?” asked the other, rather quickly. + +“I fear you've prejudiced your sister against me, and that instead of +giving me a clear stage, you gave me the 'no favor' portion of the adage +only.” + +“I am not in the habit of stating a falsehood, Hycy, nor of having any +assertion I make questioned; I have already told you, I think, that I +would not prejudice my sister against you. I now repeat that I have not +done so; but I cannot account for her prejudices against you any more +than I shall attempt to contradict or combat them, so far from that I +now tell you, that if she were unfortunately disposed to many you, I +would endeavor to prevent her.” + +“And pray why so, Harry, if it is a fair question?” + +“Perfectly fair; simply because I should not wish to see my sister +married to a man unburthened with any kind of principle. In fact, +without the slightest intention whatsoever, Hycy, to offer you offence, +I must say that you are not the man to whom I should entrust Maria's +peace and happiness; I am her only brother, and have a right to speak as +I do. I consider it my duty.” + +“Certainly,” replied Hycy, “if you think so, I cannot blame you; but I +see clearly that you misunderstand my character--that is all.” + +They separated in a few minutes afterwards, and Hycy in a very serious +and irritable mood rode homewards. In truth his prospects at this +peculiar period were anything but agreeable. Here his love-suit, if it +could be called so, had just been rejected by Miss Clinton, in a manner +that utterly precluded all future hope in that quarter. With Kathleen +Cavanagh he had been equally unsuccessful. His brother Edward was now at +home, too, a favorite with, and inseparable from his father, who of late +maintained any intercourse that took place between himself and Hycy, +with a spirit of cool, easy sarcasm, that was worse than anger itself. +His mother, also, in consequence of her unjustifiable attempts to +defend her son's irregularities, had lost nearly all influence with her +husband, and if the latter should withdraw, as he had threatened to +do, the allowance of a hundred a year with which he supplied him, he +scarcely saw on what hand he could turn. With Kathleen Cavanagh and Miss +Clinton he now felt equally indignant, nor did his friend Harry escape +a strong portion of his ill-will. Hycy, not being overburthened with +either a love or practice of truth himself, could not for a moment yield +credence to the assertion of young Clinton, that he took no stops to +prejudice his sister against him. He took it for granted, therefore, +that it was to his interference he owed the reception he had just got, +and he determined in some way or other to repay him for the ill-services +he had rendered him. + +The feeling of doubt and uncertainty with which Bryan M'Mahon parted +from his landlord and Fethertonge, the agent, after the interview we +have already described, lost none of their strength by time. Hycy's +memorial had been entrusted to Chevydale, who certainly promised to put +his case strongly before the Commissioners of Excise; and Bryan at first +had every reason to suppose that he would do so. Whether in consequence +of that negligence of his promise, for which he was rather remarkable, +or from some sinister influence that may have been exercised over him, +it is difficult to say, but the fact was that Bryan had now only ten +days between him and absolute ruin. He had taken the trouble to write +to the Secretary of Excise to know if his memorial had been laid +before them, and supported by Mr. Chevydale, who, he said, knew the +circumstances, and received a reply, stating that no such memorial +had been sent, and that Mr. Chevydale had taken no steps in the matter +whatsoever. We shall not now enter into a detail of all the visits +he had made to his landlord, whom he could never see a second time, +however, notwithstanding repeated solicitations to that effect. +Fethertonge he did see, and always was assured by him that his case was +safe and in good hands. + +“You are quite mistaken, Bryan,” said he, “if you think that either he +or I have any intention of neglecting your affair. You know yourself, +however, that he has not a moment for anything at the present time but +this confounded election. The contest will be a sharp one, but when it +is over we will take care of you.” + +“Yes, but it will then be too late,” replied Bryan; “I will be then a +ruined man.” + +“But, my dear Bryan, will you put no confidence in your friends? I tell +you you will not be ruined. If they follow up the matter so as to injure +you, we shall have the whole affair overhauled, and justice done you; +otherwise we shall bring it before Parliament.” + +“That may be all very well,” replied Bryan, “but it is rather odd that +he has not taken a single step in it yet.” + +“The memorial is before the Board,” said the other, “for some time, and +we expect an answer every day.” + +“But I know to the contrary,” replied Bryan, “for here is a letther from +the Secretary stating that no such memorial ever came before them.” + +“Never mind that,” replied Fethertonge, “he may not have seen it. The +Secretary! Lord bless you, he never reads a tenth of the memorials that +go in. Show me the letter. See there now--he did not write it all; don't +you see his signature is in a different, hand? Why will you not put +confidence in your friends, Bryan?” + +“Because,” replied the independent and honest young fellow, “I don't +think they're entitled to it--from me. They have neglected my business +very shamefully, after having led me to think otherwise. I have no +notion of any landlord suffering his tenant to be ruined before his face +without lifting a finger to prevent it.” + +“Oh! fie, Bryan, you are now losing your temper. I shall say no more to +you. Still I can make allowances. However, go home, and keep your +mind easy, we shall take care of you, notwithstanding your ill humor. +Stay--you pass Mr. Clinton's--will you be good! enough to call and tell +Harry Clinton I wish to speak to him, and I will feel obliged?” + +“Certainly, sir,” replied Bryan, “with pleasure. I wish you good +morning.” + +“Could it be possible,” he added, “that the hint Hycy Burke threw out +about young Clinton has any truth in it--'Harry Clinton will do you an +injury;' but more he would not say. I will now watch him well, for I +certainly cannot drame why he should be my enemy.” + +He met Clinton on the way, however, to whom he delivered the message. + +“I am much obliged to you,” said he, “I was already aware of it; but now +that I have met you, M'Mahon, allow me to ask if you have not entrusted +a memorial to the care of Mr. Chevydale, in order that it might be sent +up strongly supported by him to the Board of Excise?” + +“I have,” said Bryan, “and it has been sent, if I am to believe Mr. +Fethertonge.” + +“Listen to me, my honest friend--don't believe Fethertonge, nor don't +rely on Chevydale, who will do nothing more nor less than the agent +allows him. If you depend upon either or both, you are a ruined man, and +I am very much afraid you are that already. It has not been sent; but +observe that I mention this in confidence, and with an understanding +that, for the present, you will not name me in the matter.” + +“I sartinly will not,” replied Bryan, who was forcibly struck with +the truth and warmth of interest that were evident in his language and +manner; “and here is a letter that I received this very mornin' from the +Secretary of Excise, stating that no memorial on my behalf has been sent +up to them at all.” + +“Ay, just so; that is the true state of the matter.” + +“What, in God's name, am I to do, then?” asked Bryan, in a state of +great and evident perplexity. + +“I shall tell you; go to an honest man--I don't say, observe, that +Chevydale is not honest; but he is weak and negligent, and altogether +the slave and dupe of his agent. Go to-morrow morning early, about eight +o'clock, fetch another memorial, and wait upon Major Vanston; state +your case to him plainly and simply, and, my life for yours, he will +not neglect you, at all events. Get a fresh memorial drawn up this very +day.” + +“I can easily do that,” said Bryan, “for I have a rough copy of the one +I sent; it was Hycy Burke drew it up.” + +“Hycy Burke,” repeated Clinton, starting with surprise, “do you tell me +so?” + +“Sartinly,” replied the other, “why do you ask?” + +Clinton shook his head carelessly. “Well,” he said, “I am glad of it; it +is better late than never. Hycy Burke”--he paused and looked serious a +moment,--“yes,” he added, “I am glad of it. Go now and follow my advice, +and you will have at least a chance of succeeding, and perhaps of +defeating your enemies, that is, if you have any.” + +The pressure of time rendered energy and activity necessary in the case +of Bryan; and, accordingly, about eight o'clock next morning, he was +seeking permission to speak to the man against whom he and his family +had always conscientiously voted--because he had been opposed to the +spirit and principles of their religion. + +Major Vanston heard his case with patience, inquired more minutely into +the circumstances, asked where Ahadarra was, the name of his landlord, +and such other circumstance as were calculated to make the case clear. + +“Pray, who drew up this memorial?” he asked. + +“Mr. Hycy Burke, sir,” replied Bryan. + +“Ah, indeed,” said he, glancing with a singular meaning at M'Mahon. + +“You and Burke are intimate then?” + +“Why, we are, sir,” replied Bryan, “on very good terms.” + +“And now--Mr.'Burke has obliged you, I suppose, because you have obliged +him?” + +“Well, I don't know that he has obliged me much,” said Bryan, “but I +know that I have obliged him a good deal.” + +Vanston nodded and seemed satisfied. + +“Very well,” he proceeded; “but, with respect to this memorial. I can't +promise you much. Leave it with me, however, and you shall probably hear +from me again. I fear we are late in point of time; indeed, I have but +faint hopes of it altogether, and I would not recommend you to form any +strong expectations from the interference of any one; still, at the same +time,” he added, looking significantly at him, “I don't desire you to +despair altogether.” + +“He has as much notion,” thought Bryan, “of troubling his head about me +or my memorial, as I have for standin' candidate for the county. D--n +them all! they think of nobody but themselves!” + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII.--A Family Dialogue + +--Ahadarra not in for it--Bryan's Vote. + + +Honest Jemmy Burke, we have already said, had brought home his +second son, Edward, from school, for the purpose of training him to +agricultural pursuits, having now abandoned all notions of devoting him +to the Church, as he would have done had Hycy manifested towards him +even the ordinary proofs of affection and respect. + +“You druv me to it, Rosha,” said he to his wife; “but I'll let you both +know that I'm able to be masther in my own house still. You have made +your pet what he is; but I tell you that if God hasn't said it, you'll +curse one another with bitther hearts yet.” + +“Well, sure you have your own way,” replied his wife, “but you wor ever +and always self-willed and headstrong. However, it's all the mane blood +that's in you; it breaks your heart to see your son a gintleman; but in +spite of your strong brogues and felt caubeen, a gentleman he is, and +a gentleman he will be, an' that's all I have to say about it. You'll +tache your pet to hate his brother, I'll go bail.” + +“No, indeed, Rosha,” he replied, “I know my duty to God and my childre' +betther than to turn them against one another; but it's only a proof of +how little you know about Edward and his warm and lovin' heart, when you +spake as you do.” + +This indeed was true. Edward Burke was but a short time at home when he +saw clearly how matters stood in the family. He was in fact a youth of a +most affectionate and generous disposition, and instead of attempting to +make the breach wider, as Hycy had he been in his place would have done, +he did everything in his power to put the parties into a good state +of feeling with each other, and to preserve peace and harmony in the +family. + +One morning, a few days after Hycy's rejection by Miss Clinton, they +were all at breakfast, “the accomplished” being in one of his musical +and polite moods, his father bland but sarcastic, and Edward in a state +of actual pain on witnessing the wilful disrespect or rather contempt +that was implied by Hycy towards his parents. “Well, Ned,” said his +father, “didn't we spend a pleasant evenin' in Gerald Cavanagh's last +night? Isn't Kathleen a darlin'?” + +“She is a delightful girl,” replied Edward, “it can't be denied; indeed, +I don't think I ever saw so beautiful a girl, and as for her figure, it +is perfect--perfect.” + +“Ay,” said the father, “and it's she that knows the difference between a +decent sensible boy and a--gintleman--a highflyer. She was both kind and +civil to you, Ned.” + +“I don't know as to the kindness,” replied Edward; “but she was +certainly civil and agreeable, and I don't think it's in her nature to +be anything else.” + +“Except when she ought,” said his father; “but listen, Ned--dress +yourself up, get a buff waistcoat, a green jockey coat, a riding whip, +and a pair o' shinin' top-boots, titivate yourself up like a dandy, then +go to her wid lavendher water on your pocket-handkerchy, an' you'll see +how she'll settle you. Be my sowl, you'll be the happy boy when you get +her; don't you think so, Misther Hycy?” + +“Unquestionably, Mr. Burke, when you speak you shame an Oracle; as for +Master Ned--why-- + + “'I'm owre young,--I'm owre young, + I'm owre young to marry yet, + I'm owre young, 'twould be a sin + To take me from my Daddy yet.' + +I think, Master Edward, the Boy-god has already taken occupation; +the vituline affection for the fair Katsey has set in; heigho, what a +delightful period of life is that soft and lickful one of calf love, +when the tongue rolls about the dripping lips, the whites of the eyes +are turned towards the divine, the ox-eyed Katsey, and you are ready to +stagger over and blare out the otherwise unutterable affection.” + +“Very well described, Hycy, I see you have not forgotten your Homer +yet; but really Kathleen Cavanagh is a perfect Juno, and has the large, +liquid, soft ox-eye in perfection.” + +“Let me look at you,” said Hycy, turning round and staring at him with +a good deal of surprise; “begad, brother Ned, let me ask where you got +your connoisseurship upon women? eh? Oh, in the dictionary, I suppose, +where the common people say everything is to be found. Observe me, Mr. +Burke, you are taking your worthy son out of his proper vocation, the +Church. Send him to 'Maynewth,' he is too good a connoisseur on beauty +to be out of the Tribunal.” + +“Hycy,” replied his brother, “these are sentiments that do you no +credit, it is easy to sneer at religion or those who administer +it,--much easier than to praise the one, it would appear, or imitate the +virtues of the other.” + +“Beautiful rebuke,” said Hycy, again staring at him; “why, Masther +Edward, you are a prodigy of wonderful sense and unspotted virtue; love + has made you eloquent--“'I gaed a waefu' gate yestreen, + A gate, I fear, I'll dearly rue, + I gat my death frae twa sweet e'en, + Twa lovely e'en o' bonnie blue, &c, &c.'” + +“I am not in love yet, Hycy, but as my father wishes to bring about a +marriage between Kathleen and myself, you know,” he added, smiling, “it +will be my duty to fall in love with her as fast as I can.” + +“Dutiful youth! what a treasure you will prove to a dignified and +gentlemanly parent,--to a fond and doting wife! Shall I however put +forth my powers? Shall Hycy the accomplished interpose between Juno and +the calf? What sayest thou, my most amiable maternal relative, and why +sittest thou so silent and so sad?” + +“Indeed, it's no wondher I would, Hycy,” replied his mother, whom +Edward's return had cast into complete dejection, “when I see your +father strivin' to put between his own childre'.” + +“Me, Rosha!” exclaimed her husband; “God forgive you for that! but when +I see that one of my childre' wont spake a word to me with respect or +civility--no, not even in his natural voice, it is surely time for ma to +try if I can't find affection in his brother.” + +“Ay,” said she, “that's your own way of it; but it's easy seen that your +eggin' up Ned agin his brother, bringin' ill will and bad feelin' among +a family that was quiet before; ay, an' I suppose you'd be glad to see +my heart broke too, and indeed I didn't care it was,” and as she spoke +the words? were accompanied by sobbings and tears. + +“Alas!” said Hyoy, still in the mock heroic--“where is the pride and +dignity of woman? Remember, oh maternal relative, that you are the +mother of one Gracchus at least! Scorn the hydraulics, I say; abandon +the pathetic; cast sorrow to the winds, and--give me another cup of +tea.” + +Edward shook his head at him, as if remonstrating against this most +undutiful and contemptuous style of conversation to his mother. “Don't +give way to tears, my dear mother,” he said; “indeed you do my father +injustice; he has neither said nor done anything to turn me against +Hycy. Why should he? So far from that, I know that he loves Hycy at +heart, all that he wishes is that Hycy would speak to him in his natural +voice, and treat him with respect, and the feeling that surely is due +to him. And so Hycy will, father; I am sure he respects and loves you in +spite of this levity and affectation. All we want is for each to give +up a little of his own way--when you become more respectful, Hycy, my +father's manner will change too: let us be at least sincere and natural +with each other, and there is nothing that I can see to prevent us from +living very happily.” + +“I have some money saved,” said Burke, turning to his wife--“a good +penny--too, more than the world thinks; and I declare to my God I would +give it twice over if I could hear that young man,” pointing to Hycy, +“speak these words with the same heart and feelings of him that spoke +them; but I fear that 'ud be a hopeless wish on my part, an' ever will.” + +“No, father,” said Edward, “it will not--Hycy and you will soon +understand one another. Hycy will see what, his duty towards you is, +and, sooner than be the means of grieving your heart, he will change the +foolish and thoughtless habit that offends you.” + +“Well, Edward, may God grant it,” exclaimed his father rising up from +breakfast, “and that's all I have to say----God grant it!” + +“Why, Sir Oracle, junior,” said Hycy, after his father had gone out, “or +rather Solomon Secundus, if you are now an unfledged philosopher on our +hand, what will you not be when your opinions are grown?” + +“My dear brother,” replied Edward, I cannot see what on earth you can +propose to yourself by adopting this ridiculous style of conversation +I cannot really see any object you can have in it. If it be to vex or +annoy my father, can you blame him if he feels both vexed and annoyed at +it. + +“Most sapiently said, Solomon Secundus-- + + “'Solomon Lob was a ploughman stout, + And a ranting cavalier; + And, when the civil war broke out, + It quickly did appear + That Solomon Lob was six feet high, + And fit for a grenadier. + So Solomon Lob march'd boldly forth + To sounds of bugle horns + And a weary march had Solomon Lob, + For Solomon Lob had corns. + Row,--ra--ra--row--de--dow.' + +“And so I wish you a good morning, most sapient Solomon. I go on +business of importance affecting--the welfare of the nation, or rather +of the empire at large--embracing all these regions, antipodial and +otherwise, on which the sun never sets. Good morning, therefore; +and, maternal relative, wishing the same to thee, with a less copious +exhibition of the hydraulics, a-hem!” + +“Where is he going, mother, do you know?” asked Edward. + +“Indeed I don't know, Edward,” she replied; “he seldom or never tells +us anything about his motions; but it vexes me to think that his father +won't make any allowance for his lightheartedness and fine spirits. Sure +now, Edward, you know yourself it's not raisonable to have a young man +like him mumpin' and mopin' about, as if there was a wake in the house?” + +The only reply Edward made to this weak and foolish speech was, “Yes; +but there is reason in everything, my dear mother. I have heard,” he +added, “that he is working for the Tory candidate, Vanston, and hope it +is not true.” + +“Why,” said his mother, “what differ does it make?” + +“Why,” replied the other, “that Vanston votes to keep us slaves, and +Chevydale to give us our political freedom: the one is opposed to our +religion and our liberty, and the other votes for both.” + +“Troth, as to religion,” observed the mother, “the poor boy doesn't +trouble his head much about it--bat it's not aisy for one that goes +into jinteel society to do so--an' that's what makes Hycy ait mate of a +Friday as fast as on any other day.” + +“I am sorry to hear that, mother,” replied Edward; “but Hycy is a very +young man still, and will mend all these matters yet.” + +“And that's what I'm tellin' his father,” she replied; “and if you'd +only see the way he looks at me, and puts a _cuir_ (* a grin--mostly +of contempt) upon him so bitther that it would a'most take the skin off +one.” + +Edward's observations with respect to Hycy's having taken a part in +forwarding the interests of Major Vanston were not without foundation. +He and Bryan M'Mahon had of late been upon very good terms; and it so +happened that in the course of one of their conversations about Kathleen +Cavanagh, Bryan had mentioned to him the fact of Kathleen's having heard +that he was pledged to vote with Vanston, and repeated the determination +to which she had resolved to come if he should do so. Now, it so +happened, that a portion of this was already well known to Hycy himself, +who, in fact, was the very individual who had assured Major Vanston, +and those who canvassed for him, that he himself had secured Bryan. +On hearing now from Bryan that Kathleen had put the issue of their +affection upon his political truth and consistency he resolved to avail +himself of that circumstance if he could. On hearing, besides, however, +that Harry Clinton had actually sent him (M'Mahon) to Vanston, and on +being told, in the course of conversation, that that gentleman asked who +had drawn up the memorial, he felt that every circumstance was turning +in his favor; for he determined now to saddle Clinton with the odium +which, in this treacherous transaction, was most likely to fall upon +himself. + +It is not our intention here to describe the brutal and disgraceful +scenes that occur at an election. It is enough to say that, after a +long, bitter, and tedious struggle, the last day of it arrived. Bryan +M'Mahon, having fully satisfied himself that his landlord had not taken +a single step to promote his interests in the matter of the memorial, +resolved from the beginning not to vote in his favor, and, of course, +not to vote at all. + +On the morning of the last day, with the exception of himself alone, +a single voter had not been left unpolled; and the position of the two +candidates was very peculiar, both having polled exactly the same number +of votes, and both being consequently equal. + +Bryan, having left home early, was at breakfast about eleven o'clock, in +a little recess off the bar of the head-inn, which was divided from +one end of the coffee-room by a thin partition of boards, through which +anything spoken in an ordinary tone of voice in that portion of the +room could be distinctly heard. Our readers may judge of his surprise +on hearing the following short but pithy dialogue of which he himself +formed the subject matter. The speakers, with whom were assembled +several of his landlord's committee, being no other than that worthy +gentleman and his agent. + +“What's to be done?” asked Chevydale; “here is what we call a dead heat. +Can no one prevail on that obstinate scoundrel, the Ahadarra man--what +do ye call, him? M'Master--M'Manus---M'--eh?” + +“M'Mahon,” replied Fethertonge, “I fear not; but, at all events, we +must try him again. Vote or not, however, we shall soon clear him out of +Ahadarra--we shall punish his insolence for daring to withhold his +vote; for, as sure as my name is Fethertonge, out he goes. The fine and +distillation affair, however, will save us a good deal of trouble, and +of course I am very glad you declined to have anything to do with the +support of his petition. The fellow is nothing else than shuffler, as I +told you. Vote or not, therefore, out of Ahadarra he goes; and, when he +does, I have a good tenant to put in his place.” + +M'Mahon's blood boiled on hearing this language, and he inwardly swore +that, let the consequences be what they might, a vote of his should +never go to the support of such a man. + +Again we return to Hycy Burke, who, when the day of the great struggle +arrived, rode after breakfast on that same morning into Ballymacan, and +inquired at the post-office if there were any letters for him. + +“No,” replied the postmaster; “but, if you see Bryan M'Mahon, tell him +I have here one for him, from Major Vanston--it's his frank and his +handwriting.” + +“I'm going directly to him,” said Hycy, “and will bring it to him; so +you had better hand it here.” + +The postmaster gave him the letter, and in a few minutes Hycy was on his +way home with as much speed as his horse was capable of making. + +“Nanny,” said he, calling upon Nanny Peety, when he had put his horse in +the stable and entered the parlor, “will you fetch me a candle and some +warm water?” + +“Yes, sir,” said Nanny; “but you must wait till I boil some, for there's +none hot.” + +“Be quick, then,” said he, “for I'm in a devil of a hurry. Shut the door +after you, I say. What is the reason that you never do so, often as I +have spoken to you about it?” + +“Becaise it's never done,” she replied; “nobody ever bids me shut it but +yourself, an' that's what makes me forget it.” + +“Well, I'll thank you,” he said, “to pay more attention to what I say +to you I have reason to think you both intrusive and ungrateful, Nanny; +and, mark, unless you show me somewhat more submission, madam, you shall +pitch your camp elsewhere. It was I brought you here.” + +“Ax your own conscience why, Mr. Hycy.” + +“Begone now and get me the hot water,” he said, with a frown of anger +and vexation, heightened probably by the state of agitation into which +the possession of Vanston's letter had already put him. + +We shall not follow him through all the ingenious and dishonorable +manoeuvres by which he got the communication safely open-ed; it is +enough to say that, in the course of a few minutes, he was enabled to +peruse the contents of Vanston's communication, which were as follows:-- + +Sir,--I beg to enclose you a letter which I received yesterday from the +Secretary to the Board of Excise, and to assure you that I feel much +pleasure in congratulating you upon its contents, and the satisfactory +result of your memorial. + +“I am, sir, very sincerely yours, + +“Egbert Vanston. + +“To Mr. Bryan M'Mahon, + +“Ahadarra.” + +(The enclosed.) + +“Sir,--I have had the honor of reading your communication in favor of +Bryan M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, and of submitting that and his own memorial +to the Commissioners of Excise, who, after maturely weighing the +circumstances, and taking into consideration the excellent character +which memoralist has received at your hands, have been pleased to reduce +the fine originally imposed upon him to the sum of fifty pounds. The +Commissioners are satisfied that memorialist, having been in no way +connected with the illicit distillation which was carried on upon his +property, is not morally liable to pay the penalty; but, as they have +not the power of wholly remitting it they have reduced it as far the law +has given them authority. + +“I have the honor to be, sir, your faithful and obedient servant, + +“Francis Fathom. + +“To Major Vanston, &c, &c.” + + +Hycy, having perused these documents, re-sealed them in such a manner as +to evade all suspicion of their having been opened. + +“Now,” thought he, “what is to be done? Upon the strength of this, it is +possible I may succeed in working up M'Mahon to vote for Vanston; for +I know into what an enthusiasm of gratitude the generous fool will be +thrown by them. If he votes for Vanston, I gain several points. First +and foremost, the round some of three hundred. If I can get his vote, I +establish my own veracity, which, as matters stand, will secure +Vanston the election; I, also, having already secretly assured the Tory +gentleman that I could secure him, or rather, I can turn my lie into +truth, and make Vanston my friend. Secondly, knowing as I do, that it +was by Harry Clinton's advice the clod-hopper went to him, I can shift +the odium of his voting for Vanston upon that youth's shoulders, whose +body, by the way, does not contain a single bone that I like; and, +thirdly, having by his apostacy and treachery, as it will be called, +placed an insurmountable barrier between himself and the divine +Katsey, I will change my course with Jemmy, the gentleman--my sarcastic +dad--return and get reconciled with that whelp of a brother of mine, and +by becoming a good Christian, and a better Catholic, I have no doubt +but I shall secure the 'Ox-eyed,' as I very happily named her the other +morning. This, I think, will be making the most of the cards, and, as +the moment is critical, I shall seek the clod-hopper and place this +seasonable communication in his hands.” + +He accordingly rode rapidly into town again, where he had not been many +minutes when he met M'Mahon, burning with indignation at the language of +his landlord and the agent. + +“I cannot have patience, Hycy,” he exclaimed, “under such scoundrelly +language as this; and while I have breath in my body, he never shall +have my vote!” + +“What's the matter, Bryan?” he asked; “you seem flushed.” + +“I do, Hycy, because I am flushed, and not without reason. I tell you +that my landlord, Chevydale, is a scoundrel, and Fethertonge a deceitful +villain.” + +“Pooh, man, is that by way of information? I thought you had something +in the shape of novelty to tell me. What has happened, however, and why +are you in such a white heat of indignation?” + +M'Mahon immediately detailed the conversation which he had overheard +behind the bar of the inn, and we need scarcely assure our readers that +Hycy did not omit the opportunity of throwing oil upon the fire which +blazed so strongly. + +“Bryan,” said he, “I know the agent to be a scoundrel, and what is +nearer the case still, I have every reason--but you must not ask me to +state them yet,--I have every reason to suspect that it is Fethertonge, +countenanced by Chevydale, who is at the bottom of the distillation +affair that has ruined you. The fact is, they are anxious to get you out +of Ahadarra, and thought that by secretly ruining you, they could most +plausibly effect it.” + +“I have now no earthly doubt of it, Hycy,” replied the other. + +“You need not,” replied Hycy; “and maybe I'm not far astray when I say, +that the hook-nosed old Still-hound, Clinton, is not a thousand miles +from the plot. I could name others connected with some of them--but I +wont, now.” + +When M'Mahon recollected the conversation which both Clinton and the +agent had held with him, with respect to violating the law, the truth +of Hycy's remark flashed upon him at once, and of course deepened his +indignation almost beyond endurance. + +“They are two d--d scoundrels,” pursued Hycy, “and I have reasons, +besides, for suspecting that it was their wish, if they could have done +it successfully, to have directed your suspicions against myself.” + +M'Mahon was, in fact, already convinced of this, and felt satisfied +that he saw through and understood the whole design against him, and was +perfectly aware of those who had brought him to ruin. + +“By the way,” said Hycy, “let me not forget that I have been looking for +you this hour or two; here is a letter I got for you in! the +post-office this morning. It has Vanston's frank, and I think is in his +handwriting.” + +M'Mahon's face, on perusing the letter, beamed with animation and +delight. “Here, Hycy,” said he, “read that; I'm safe yet, thank God, and +not a ruined man, as the villains thought to make me.” + +“By my soul and honor, Bryan,” exclaimed the other, “that is noble on +the part of Vanston, especially towards an individual from whom, as +well as from his whole family, he has ever experienced the strongest +opposition. However, if I were in your coat, I certainly would not +suffer him to outdo me in generosity. Good heavens! only contrast such +conduct with that of the other scoundrel, his opponent, and then see the +conclusion you must come to.” + +“Let Vanston be what he may, he's an honest man,” replied Bryan, “and +in less than ten minutes I'll have him the sittin' member. I would be +ungrateful and ungenerous, as you say, Hycy, not to do so. Come +along--come along, I bid you. I don't care what they say. The man that +saved me--who was his enemy--from ruin, will have my vote.” + +They accordingly proceeded towards the court house, and on their way +Hycy addressed him as follows:--“Now, Bryan, in order to give your +conduct an appearance of greater generosity, I will pretend to dissuade +you against voting for Vanston, or, rather, I will endeavor, as it were, +to get your vote for Chevydale. This will make the act more manly and +determined on your part, and consequently one much more high-minded and +creditable to your reputation. You will show them, besides, that you are +not the cowardly slave of your landlord.” + +It was accordingly so managed; the enthusiastic gratitude of the young +man overcame all considerations; and in a few minutes Major Vanston was +declared by the sheriff duly elected, by a majority of one vote only. + +It is no part of our intention to describe the fierce sensation which +this victory created among the greater portion of the people. The tumult +occasioned by their indignation and fury was outrageous and ruffianly as +usual; but as the election had now terminated, it soon ceased, and the +mobs began to disperse to their respective homes. Bryan for some three +hours or so was under the protection of the military, otherwise he would +have been literally torn limb from limb. In the mean time we must follow +Hycy. + +This worthy and straightforward young gentleman, having now accomplished +his purpose, and been the means of M'Mahon having exposed himself to +popular vengeance, took the first opportunity of withdrawing from him +secretly, and seeking Vanston's agent. Having found him, and retired out +of hearing, he simply said-- + +“I will trouble you for three hundred.” + +“You shall have it,” replied that honest gentleman; “you shall have it. +We fully acknowledge the value of your services in this matter; it is to +them we owe our return.” + +“There is no doubt in the matter,” replied Hycy; “but you know not my +difficulty, nor the dexterous card I had to play in accomplishing my +point.” + +“We are sensible of it all,” replied the other; “here,” said he, pulling +out his pocket-book, “are three notes for one hundred each.” + +“Give me two fifties,” said Hycy, “instead of this third note, and you +will oblige me. By the way, here is the major.” With this the other +immediately complied, without the major having been in any way cognizant +of the transaction. + +On entering the inner room where they stood, Vanston shook hands most +cordially with Hycy, and thanked him in very warm language for the part +he took, to which he had no hesitation in saying he owed his return. + +“Look upon me henceforth as a friend, Mr. Burke,” he added, “and a +sincere one, who will not forget the value of your influence with the +young man whose vote has gained me the election. I have already served +him essentially,--in fact saved him from ruin, and I am very glad of +it.” + +“I really feel very much gratified, Major Vanston, that I have had it in +my power,” replied Hycy, “to render you any service of importance; and +if I ever should stand in need of a favor at your hands, I shall not +hesitate to ask it.” + +“Nor I to grant it, Mr. Burke, if it be within the reach of my +influence.” + +“In the mean time,” said Hycy, “will you oblige me with a single franc?” + +“Certainly, Mr. Burke; with half a dozen of them.” + +“Thank you, sir, one will be quite sufficient; I require no more.” + +The major, however, gave him half a dozen of them, and after some +further chat, and many expressions of obligation on the part of the new +M.P., Hycy withdrew. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX.--Bryan Bribed--is Rejected by Kathleen. + + +In the course of about two or three hours after the transaction already +stated, old Peety Dim was proceeding towards the post-office with a +letter, partly in his closed hand, and partly up the inside of his +sleeve, so as that it might escape observation. The crowds were still +tumultuous, but less so than in the early part of the day; for, as we +said, they were diminishing in numbers, those who had been so long from +home feeling a natural wish to return to their families and the various +occupations and duties of life which they had during this protracted +contest been forced to neglect. Peety had got as far as the +market-house--which was about the centre of the street--on his way, we +say, to the post-office, when he met his daughter Nanny, who, after a +few words of inquiry, asked him where he was going. + +“Faith, an' that's more than I dare tell you,” he replied. + +“Why,” she said, “is there a saicret in it, I'm sure you needn't keep it +from me, whatever it is.” + +This she added in a serious and offended tone, which, however, was not +lost on the old man. + +“Well,” said he, “considherin' the man he is, an' what you know about +him, I think I may as well tell you. It's a letther I'm bringin' to slip +into the post-office, unknownst.” + +“Is it from Hycy?” she asked. + +“From Hycy, and no other.” + +“I'll hould a wager,” she replied, “that that's the very letther I seen +him openin' through the key hole doar this mornin'. Do you know who it's +to?” she inquired. + +“Oh, the sorra know; he said it was a love-letther, and that he did not +wish to be seen puttin' it in himself.” + +“Wait,” said she, “give it to me here for a minute; here's Father +M'Gowan comin' up, and I'll ax him who it's directed to.” + +She accordingly took the letter out of his hand, and approaching the +priest, asked him the name of the person to whom it was addressed. + +“Plaise your reverence,” she said, “what name's on the back of this?--I +mane,” said she, “who is goin' to?” + +The priest looked at it, and at once replied, “It is goin' to Bryan +M'Mahon, of Ahadarra, the traitor, and it comes from Major Vanston, +the enemy to his liberty and religion, that his infamous vote put into +Parliament, to rivet our chains, and continue our degradation. So there, +girl, you have now the bigot from whom it comes, and the apostate to +whom it goes. Who gave it to you?” + +Nanny, who from some motives of her own, felt reluctant to mention +Hycy's name in the matter, hastily replied, “A person, plaise your +reverence, from Major Vanston.” + +“Very well, girl, discharge your duty,” said the priest; “but I tell +you the devil will never sleep well till he has his clutches in the same +Major, as well as in the shameless apostate he has corrupted.” + +Having uttered these words, he passed on, and Nanny in a minute or two +afterwards returned the letter to her father, who with his own hands put +it into the post-office. + +“Now,” said she to her father, “the people is scatterin' themselves +homewards; and the streets is gettin' clear--but listen--that letter +is directed to Bryan M'Mahon; will you keep about the post-office here; +Bryan's in town, an' it's likely when the danger's over that he may be +passin'. Now you know that if he does, the people in the shop where the +post-office is kep' will see him, an' maybe he'll get the letter to-day, +or I'll tell you what, watch Hycy; take my word for it, he has some +scheme afoot.” + +“Hycy's no favorite wid you, Nanny.” + +“Why you know he's not, an' indeed I don't know why he's one wid you.” + +“Throth an' he is, many a shillin' an' sixpence he throws me,--always +does indeed wherever he meets me.” + +“No matter, maybe the day will soon come when you'll change your opinion +of him, that's all I say, except to keep your eye on him; and I'll tell +you why I bid you, some day soon.” + +“Well, achora, maybe I may change my opinion of him; but at present I +say he is my favorite, an' will be so, till I know worse about him.” + +Nanny, having bade him good-bye, and repeated her wish that the old man +would watch the post-office for some time, proceeded up the street +in the direction of the grocer's, to whom she had been dispatched for +groceries. + +Two hours more had now elapsed, the crowds were nearly dispersed, and +the evening was beginning to set in, when Hycy Burke called at the +post-office, and for the second time during the day, asked if there was +a letter for him. + +The post-master searched again, and replied, “No; but here's another for +Bryan M'Mahon.” + +“What!” he exclaimed, “another for Bryan! Why he must have an extensive +correspondence, this Bryan M'Mahon. I wonder who it's from.” + +“There's no wonder at all about it,” replied the post-master, “it's from +Major Vanston. Here's his frank and handwriting in the direction and +all.” + +“Allow me to look,” said Hycy, glancing at it. “Yes, you are quite +right, that is the gallant Major's hand, without any mistake whatsoever. +I will not fetch him this letter,” he proceeded, “because I know not +when I may see him; but if I see him, I shall tell him.” + +Peety Dim, who had so placed himself in the shop attached to the +post-office, on seeing Hycy approach, that he might overhear this +conversation without being seen, felt, considerably surprised that Hycy +should seem to have been ignorant that there was a letter for M'Mahon, +seeing that it was he himself who had sent it there. He consequently +began to feel that there was some mystery in the matter; but whatever it +might be, he knew that it was beyond his power to develop. + +On coming forward from the dark part of the shop, where he had been +standing, he asked the post-master if there was a second letter for +M'Mahon. + +“No,” replied the man, “there is only the one. If you see him, tell him +there's a letter from Major Vanston in the office for him.” + +We must still trace Hycy's motions. On leaving the post-office, he went +directly to the Head Inn, where he knew Bryan M'Mahon was waiting until +the town should become perfectly calm and quiet. Here he found Bryan, +whose mind was swayed now to one side and now to another, on considering +the principle on which he had voted, and the consequences to which that +act might expose him. + +“I know I will have much to endure,” he thought, while pacing the room +by himself in every way, “but I little value anything the world at large +may think or say, so that I don't lose the love and good opinion of +Kathleen Cavanagh.” + +“Why, Bryan,” said Hycy, as he entered, “I think you must provide a +secretary some of these days, your correspondence is increasing so +rapidly.” + +“How is that?” inquired the other. + +“Simply that there's another letter in the post-office for you, and if I +don't mistake, from the same hand--that of our friend the Major.” + +“I'm not aware of anything he could have to write to me about now,” + replied Bryan; “I wonder what can it be?” + +“If you wish I shall fetch you the letter,” said Hycy, “as you have an +objection I suppose to go out until the town is empty.” + +“Thank you, Hycy, I'll feel obliged to you if you do; and Hycy, by +the way, I am sorry that you and I ever mistook or misunderstood one +another; but sich things happen to the best of friends, and why should +we hope to escape?” + +“Speak only for yourself, Bryan,” replied Hycy, “the misunderstanding +was altogether on your side, not on mine. I always knew your value and +esteemed you accordingly. I shall fetch your letter immediately.” + +On returning he placed the document aforesaid in M'Mahon's hands, +and said, in imitation of his friend Teddy Phats--“Come now, read her +up.” Bryan opened the letter, and in the act of doing so a fifty pound +note presented itself, of which, as it had been cut in two, one half +fell to the ground. + +“Hallo!” exclaimed Hycy, suddenly taking it up, “this looks well--what +have we here? A fifty pound note!” + +“Yes,” replied Bryan; “but why cut in two? here however is something +written, too--let me see-- + +“'Accept this as an earnest of better things for important services. The +fine imposed upon you has been reduced to fifty pounds--this will pay +it. + +“A DEEPLY OBLIGED FRIEND.'” + + +The two young men looked at each other for some time without speaking. +At length M'Mahon's face became crimsoned with indignation! + +“Who could have dared to do this?” said he, once more looking at the +bank-note and the few lines that accompanied it. “Who durst suppose +that a M'Mahon would sell his vote for a bribe? Did Vanston suppose that +money would sway me? for this I am sure must be his work.” + +“Don't be too sure of that,” replied Hycy; “don't be too sure that it's +not some one that wishes you worse than Vanston does. In my opinion, +Bryan, that letter and the note contained in it were sent to you by +some one who wishes to have it whispered abroad that you were bribed. It +surely could not be Vanston's interest to injure your character or your +circumstances in any sense; and I certainly think him too honorable to +deal in an anonymous bribe of that kind.” + +“Some scoundrel has done it, that's clear; but what would you have me to +do, Hycy? You are up to life and know the world a great deal better than +I do; how ought I to act now?” + +“I'll tell you candidly, my dear Bryan, how I think you ought to act, or +at least how I would act myself if I were in your place.” He then paused +for a minute and proceeded:--“You know I may be wrong, Bryan, but I +shall advise you at all events honestly, and to the best of my ability. +I would keep this letter and this note, and by the way, what else can +you do?--I would say nothing whatsoever about it. The secret, you know, +rests with yourself and me, with the exception of the party that sent +it. Now, mark me, I say--if the party that sent this be a friend, there +will be no more about it--it will drop into the grave; but if it came +from an enemy the cry of bribery will be whispered about, and there will +be an attack made on your character. In this case you can be at no loss +as to the source from whence the communication came--Fethertonge will +then most assuredly be the man; or, harkee, who knows but the whole +thing is an electioneering trick resorted to for the purpose of +impugning your vote, and of getting Vanston out on petition and +scrutiny. Faith and honor, Bryan, I think that this last is the true +reading.” + +“I'm inclined to agree with you there,” replied Bryan, “that looks like +the truth; and even then I agree with you still that Fethertonge is at +the bottom of it. Still how am I to act?” + +“In either case, Bryan, precisely as I said. Keep the letter and the +bank-note; say nothing about it--that is clearly your safest plan; do +not let them out of your hands, for the time may come when it will be +necessary to your own character to show them.” + +“Well, then, I will be guided by you, Hycy. As you say no one knows the +secret but yourself and me; if it has come from a friend he will say +nothing about it, but if it has come from an enemy it will be whispered +about; but at all events I have you as proof that it did not come to me +by any bargain of mine.” + +Hycy spoke not a word, but clapped him approvingly on the shoulder, as +much as to say--“Exactly so, that is precisely the fact,” and thus ended +the dialogue. + +We all know that the clearer the mirror the slighter will be the breath +necessary to stain it; on the breast of an unsullied shirt the most +minute speck will be offensively visible. So it is with human character +and integrity. Had Bryan M'Mahon belonged to a family of mere ordinary +reputation--to a family who had generally participated in all the good +and evil of life, as they act upon and shape the great mass of society, +his vote might certainly have created much annoyance to his party for +a very brief period--just as other votes given from the usual +motives--sometimes right and honorable--sometimes wrong and +corrupt--usually do. In his case, however, there was something +calculated to startle and alarm all those who knew and were capable of +appreciating the stainless honor and hereditary integrity of the family. +The M'Mahon's, though inoffensive and liberal in their intercourse with +the world, even upon matters of a polemical nature, were nevertheless +deeply and devotedly attached to their own religion, and to all those +who in any way labored or contributed to relieve it of its disabilities, +and restore those who professed it to that civil liberty which had been +so long denied them. This indeed was very natural on the part of the +M'Mahons, who would sooner have thought of taking to the highway, or +burning their neighbor's premises, than supporting the interests or +strengthening the hands of any public man placed, in a position to use +a hostile influence against them. There was only one other family in the +barony, who in all that the M'Mahon's felt respecting their religion and +civil liberty, Were far in advance of them. These were the Cavanaghs, +between whom and the M'Mahons their existed so many strong points +of resemblance that they only differed from the others in +degree--especially on matters connected with religion and its +privileges. In these matters the Cavanaghs were firm, stern, and +inflexible--nay, so heroic was the enthusiasm and so immovable the +attachment of this whole family to their creed, that we have no +hesitation whatever in saying that they would have laid down their lives +in its defence, or for its promotion, had such a sacrifice been demanded +from them. On such a family, then, it is scarcely necessary to +describe the effects of what was termed Bryan M'Mahon's apostacy. The +intelligence came upon them in fact like a calamity. On the very evening +before, Gerald Cavanagh, now a fierce advocate for Edward Burke, having, +in compliance with old Jemmy, altogether abandoned Hycy, had been urging +upon Kathleen the prudence and propriety of giving Bryan M'Mahon up, and +receiving the address of young Burke, who was to inherit the bulk of his +father's wealth and property; and among other arguments against M'Mahon +he stated a whisper then gaining ground, that it was his intention to +vote for Vanston. + +“But I know to the contrary, father,” said Kathleen, “for I spoke to +him on that very subject, and Bryan M'Mahon is neither treacherous nor +cowardly, an' won't of course abandon his religion or betray it into the +hands of its enemies. Once for all, then,” she added, calmly, and with +a smile full of affection and good humor, “I say you may spare both +yourself and me a great deal of trouble, my dear father, I grant you +that I like and esteem Edward Burke as a friend, an' I think that he +really is what his brother Hycy wishes himself to be thought--a true +gentleman--but that is all, father, you know; for I would scorn to +conceal it, that Bryan M'Mahon has my affections, and until he proves +false to his God, his religion, and his country, I will never prove +false to him nor withdraw my affections from him.” + +“For all that,” replied her father, “it's strongly suspected that he's +goin' over to the tories, an' will vote for Vanston to-morrow.” + +Kathleen rose with a glowing cheek, and an eye sparkling with an +enthusiastic trust in her lover's faith; “No, father,” said she, “by the +light of heaven above us, he will never vote for Vanston--unless Vanston +becomes the friend of our religion. I have only one worthless life, but +if I had a thousand, and that every one of them was worth a queen's, I'd +stake them all on Bryan M'Mahon's truth. If he ever turns traitor--let +me die before I hear it, I pray God this night!” + +As she spoke, the tears of pride, trust, and the noble attachment by +which she was moved, ran down her cheeks; in fact, the natural dignity +and high moral force of her character awed them, and her father +completely subdued, simply replied:-- + +“Very well, Kathleen; I'll say no more, dear; I won't press the matter +on you again, and so I'll tell Jemmy Burke.” + +Kathleen, after wiping away her tears, thanked him, and said with a +smile, and in spite of the most boundless confidence in the integrity +of her lover, “never, at any rate, father, until Bryan M'Mahon turns a +traitor to his religion and his country.” + +On the evening of the next day, or rather late at night, her father +returned from the scene of contest, but very fortunately for Kathleen's +peace of mind during that night, he found on inquiry that she and Hanna +had been for a considerable time in bed. The following morning Hanna, +who always took an active share in the duties of the family, and who +would scarcely permit her sister to do anything, had been up a short +time before her, and heard from her mother's lips the history of Bryan's +treachery, as it was now termed by all. We need scarcely say that she +was deeply affected, and wept bitterly. Kathleen, who rose a few minutes +afterwards, thought she saw her sister endeavoring to conceal her +face, but the idea passed away without leaving anything like a fixed +impression upon it. Hanna, who was engaged in various parts of the +house, contrived still to keep her face from the observation of +her sister, until at length the latter was ultimately struck by the +circumstance as well as by Hanna's unusual silence. Just as her father +had entered to breakfast, a sob reached her ears, and on going over to +inquire if anything were wrong, Hanna, who was now fairly overcome, and +could conceal her distress no longer, ran over, and throwing herself on +Kathleen's neck, she exclaimed in a violent burst of grief, “Kathleen, +my darling sister, what will become of you! It's all true. Bryan has +proved false and a traitor; he voted for Vanston yesterday, and that +vote has put the bitter enemy of our faith into Parliament.” + +“Bryan M'Mahon a traitor!” exclaimed Kathleen; “no, Hanna--no, I +say--a thousand times no. It could not be--the thing is +impossible--impossible!” + +“It is as true as God's in heaven, that he voted yesterday for Vanston,” + said her father; “I both seen him and heard him, an' that vote it was +that gained Vanston the election.” + +Hanna, whose arms were still around her sister's neck, felt her stagger +beneath her on hearing those words from her father. + +“You say you saw him, father, and h'ard him vote for Vanston. You say +you did?” + +“I both seen the traitor an' h'ard him,” replied the old man. + +“Hanna, dear, let me sit down,” said Kathleen, and Hanna, encircling her +with one hand, drew a chair over with the other, on which, with a cheek +pale as death, her sister sat, whilst Hanna still wept with her arms +about her. After a long silence, she at last simply said:-- + +“I must bear it; but in this world my happiness is gone.” + +“Don't take it so much to heart avourneen,” said her mother; “but, any +way, hadn't you betther see himself, an' hear what he has to say for +himself. Maybe, afther all, it's not so bad as it looks. See him, +Kathleen; maybe there's not so much harm in it yet.” + +“No, mother, see him I will not, in that sense--Bryan M'Mahon a traitor! +Am I a dreamer? I am not asleep, and Bryan M'Mahon is false to God and +his country! I did think that he would give his life for both, if he was +called upon to do so; but not that he would prove false to them as he +has done.” + +“He has, indeed,” said her father, “and the very person you hate so +much, bad as you think him, did all in his power to prevent him from +doin' the black deed. I seen that, too, and h'ard it. Hycy persuaded him +as much as he could against it; but he wouldn't listen to him, nor pay +him any attention.” + +“Kathleen,” said her sister, “the angels in heaven fell, and surely it +isn't wonderful that even a good man should be tempted and fall from the +truth as they did?” + +Kathleen seemed too much abstracted by her distress to hear this. +She looked around at them all, one after another, and said in a low, +composed, and solemn voice, “All is over now between that young man and +me--and here is one request which I earnestly entreat you--every one of +you--to comply with.” + +“What is it darling?” said her mother. + +“It is,” she replied, “never in my hearing to mention his name while I +live. As for myself, I will never name him!” + +“And think, after all,” observed her father, “of poor Hycy bein' true to +his religion!” + +It would seem that her heart was struggling to fling the image of +M'Mahon from it, but without effect. It was likely she tried to hate him +for his apostacy, but she could not. Still, her spirit was darkened with +scorn and indignation at the act of dishonor which she felt her lover +had committed, just as the atmosphere is by a tempest. In fact, she +detested what she considered the baseness and treachery of the vote; but +could not of a sudden change a love so strong, so trusting, and so pure +as hers, into the passions of enmity and hatred. No sooner, however, had +her father named Hycy Burke with such approval, than the storm within +her directed itself against him, and she said, “For God's sake, father, +name not that unprincipled wretch to me any more. I hate and detest +him more than any man living he has no good quality to redeem him. +Ah! Hanna, Hanna, and is it come to this? The dream of my happiness has +vanished, and I awake to nothing now but affliction and sorrow. As for +happiness, I must think of that no more, father, after breakfast, do you +go up to that young man and tell him the resolution I have come to, and +that it is over for ever between him and. me.” + +Soon after this, she once more exacted a promise from them to observe a +strict silence on the unhappy event which had occurred, and by no +means ever to attempt offering her consolation. These promises they +religiously kept, and from this forth neither M'Mahon's name nor his +offence were made the topics of any conversation that occurred between +them. + + + + +CHAPTER XX.--M'Mahon is Denounced from the Altar + +--Receives his Sentence from Kathleen, and Resolves to Emigrate. + + +Whatever difficulty Bryan M'Mahon had among his family in defending the +course he had taken at the election, he found that not a soul belonging +to his own party would listen to any defense from him. The indignation, +obloquy, and spirit of revenge with which he was pursued and harassed, +excited in his heart, as they would in that of any generous man +conscious of his own integrity, a principle of contempt and defiance, +which, however they required independence in him, only made matters far +worse than they otherwise would have been. He expressed neither regret +nor repentance for having voted as he did; but on the contrary asserted +with a good deal of warmth, that if the same course lay open to him he +would again pursue it. + +“I will never vote for a scoundrel,” said he, “and I don't think that +there is anything in my religion that makes it a duty on me to do so. If +my religion is to be supported by scoundrels, the sooner it is forced +to depend on itself the better. Major Vanston is a good landlord, and +supports the rights of his tenantry, Catholic as well as Protestant; he +saved me from ruin when my own landlord refused to interfere for me, +an' Major Vanston, if he's conscientiously opposed to my religion, is an +honest man at all events, and an honest man I'll ever support against +a rogue, and let their politics go where they generally do, go to the +devil.” + +Party is a blind, selfish, infatuated monster, brutal and vehement, that +knows not what is meant by reason, justice, liberty, or truth. M'Mahon, +merely because he gave utterance with proper spirit to sentiments of +plain common sense, was assailed by every description of abuse, until he +knew not where to take refuge from that cowardly and ferocious tyranny +which in a hundred shapes proceeded from the public mob. On the +Sunday after the election, his parish priest, one of those political +fire-brands, who whether under a mitre or a white band, are equally +disgraceful and detrimental to religion and the peaceful interests +of mankind--this man, we say, openly denounced him from the altar, in +language which must have argued but little reverence for the sacred +place from which it was uttered, and which came with a very bad grace +from one who affected to be an advocate for liberty of conscience and a +minister of peace. + +“Ay,” he proceeded, standing on the altar, “it is well known to our +disgrace and shame how the election was lost. Oh, well may I say to our +disgrace and shame. Little did I think that any one, bearing the once +respectable name of M'Mahon upon him, should turn from the interests of +his holy church, spurn all truth, violate all principle, and enter into +a league of hell with the devil and the enemies of his church. Yes, you +apostate,” he proceeded, “you have entered into a league with him, and +ever since there is devil within you. You sold yourself to his agent and +representative, Vanston, You got him to interfere for you with the +Board of Excise, and the fine that was justly imposed on you for your +smugglin' and distillin' whiskey--not that I'm runin' down our whiskey, +because it's the best drinkin of that kind we have, and drinks beautiful +as scalhleen, wid a bit of butther and sugar in it--but it's notorious +that you went to Vanston, and offered if he'd get the fine off you, +that you'd give him your vote; an' if that's not sellin' yourself to the +devil, I don't know what is. Judas did the same thing when he betrayed +our Savior--the only difference is--that he got a thirty shilling +note--an' God knows it was a beggarly bargain--when his hand was in he +ought to have done the thing dacent--and you got the fine taken off +you; that's the difference--that's the difference. But there's more to +come--more corruption where that was. Along wid the removal of the fine +you got a better note than Mr. Judas got. Do you happen to know anything +about a fifty pound note cut in two halves? Eh? Am I tickling you? Do +you happen to know anything about that, you traicherous apostate? If +you don't, I do; and plaise God before many hours the public will know +enough of it, too. How dare you, then, polute the house of God, or come +in presence of His Holy altar, wid such a crust of crimes upon your +soul? Can you deny that you entered into a league of hell wid the devil +and Major Vanston, and that you promised him your vote if he'd get the +fine removed?” + +“I can,” replied Bryan; “there's not one word of truth in it.” + +“Do you hear that, my friends?” exclaimed the priest; “he calls your +priest a liar upon the altar of the livin' God.” + +Here M'Mahon was assailed by such a storm of groans and hisses as, to +say the least of it, was considerably at variance with the principles of +religion and the worship of God. + +“Do you deny,” the priest proceeded, “that you received a bribe of fifty +pounds on the very day you voted? Answer me that.” + +“I did receive a fifty-pound note in a--” + +Further he could not proceed. It was in vain that he attempted to give +a true account of the letter and its enclosure; the enmity was not +confined to either groans or hisses. He was seized upon in the very +chapel, dragged about in all directions, kicked, punched, and beaten, +until the apprehension of having a murder committed in presence of +God's altar caused the priest to interfere. M'Mahon, however, was +ejected from the chapel; but in such a state that, for some minutes, it +could scarcely be ascertained whether he was alive or dead. After he had +somewhat recovered, his friends assisted him home, where he lay confined +to a sick bed for better than a week. + +Such is a tolerably exact description of scenes which have too +frequently taken place in the country, to the disgrace of religion and +the dishonor of God. We are bound to say, however, that none among +the priesthood encourage or take a part in them, unless those low and +bigoted firebrands who are alike remarkable for vulgarity and ignorance, +and who are perpetually inflamed by that meddling spirit which tempts +them from the quiet path of duty into scenes of political strife and +enmity, in which they seem to be peculiarly at home. Such scenes are +repulsive to the educated priest, and to all who, from superior minds +and information, are perfectly aware that no earthly or other good, but, +on the contrary, much bitterness, strife, and evil, ever result from +them. + +Gerald Cavanagh was by no means so deeply affected by M'Mahon's vote +as were his two daughters. He looked upon the circumstance as one +calculated to promote the views which he entertained for Kathleen's +happiness. Ever since the notion of her marriage with Hycy Burke or +his brother--it mattered little to him which--he felt exceedingly +dissatisfied with her attachment to M'Mahon. Of this weakness, which we +may say, was the only one of the family, we have already spoken. He +lost little time, however, in going to communicate his daughter's +determination to that young man. It so happened, however, that, +notwithstanding three several journeys made for the purpose, he could +not see him; the fact being that Bryan always happened to be from +home when he went. Then came the denouncing scene which we have just +described, when his illness put it out of his power, without danger to +himself, to undergo anything calculated to discompose or disturb him. +The popular feeling, however, was fearfully high and indignant against +him. The report went that he had called Father M'Pepper, the senior +curate, a liar upon the very altar; and the commencement of +his explanation with respect to the fifty-pound note, was, not +unnaturally--since they would not permit him to speak--construed into an +open admission of his having been bribed. + +This was severe and trying enough, but it was not all. Chevydale, whom +he unseated by his vote, after having incurred several thousand pounds +of expense, was resolved to make him suffer for the loss of his seat, as +well as for having dared to vote against him--a purpose in which he was +strongly supported, or into which, we should rather say, he was urged by +Fethertonge, who, in point of fact, now that the leases had dropped, was +negotiating a beneficial bargain with the gauger, apart from Chevydale's +knowledge, who was a feeble, weak-minded man, without experience or a +proper knowledge of his duties. In fact, he was one of,those persons +who, having no fixed character of their own, are either good or evil, +according to the principles of those by whom they happen for the time to +be managed. If Chevydale had been under the guidance of a sensible and +humane agent, he would have been a good landlord; but the fact being +otherwise, he was, in Fethertonge's hands, anything but what a landlord +ought to be. Be this as it may, the period of M'Mahon's illness passed +away, and, on rising from his sick bed, he found the charge of bribery +one of universal belief, against which scarcely any person had the +courage to raise a voice. Even Hycy suffered himself, as it were, with +great regret and reluctance, to become at length persuaded of its truth. +Kathleen, on hearing that he himself had been forced to admit it in the +chapel, felt that the gloom which had of late wrapped her in its +shadow now became so black and impervious that she could see +nothing distinctly. The two facts--that is to say, the vote and the +bribery--seemed to her like some frightful hallucination which lay upon +her spirits--some formidable illusion that haunted her night and day, +and filled her whole being with desolation and sorrow. + +With respect to his own feelings, there was but one thought which gave +him concern, and this was an apprehension that Kathleen might be carried +away by the general prejudice which existed against him. + +“I know Kathleen, however,” he would say; “I know her truth, her good +sense, and her affection; and, whatever the world may say, she won't +follow its example and condemn me without a hearing. I will see her +tomorrow and explain all to her. Father,” he added, “will you ask Dora +if she will walk with me to the Long-shot Meadow? I think a stroll round +it will do me good. I haven't altogether recovered my strength yet.” + +“To be sure I will go with you, Bryan,” said the bright-eyed and +affectionate sister; “to be sure I will; it's on my way to Gerald +Cavanagh's; and I'm going down to see how they are, and to know if +something I heard about them is thrue. I want to satisfy myself; but +they musn't get on their high horse with me, I can tell them.” + +“You never doubted me, Dora,” said Bryan, as they went along--“you never +supposed for a moment that I could”--he paused. “I know,” he added, +“that it doesn't look well; but you never supposed that I acted from +treachery, or deceit, or want of affection or respect for my religion? +You don't suppose that what all the country is ringin' with--that I took +a bribe or made a bargain with Vanston--is true?” + +“Why do you ask me such questions?” she replied. “You acted on the spur +of the minute; and I say, afther what you heard from the landlord and +agent, if you had voted for him you'd be a mane, pitiful hound, unworthy +of your name and family. You did well to put him out. If I had been in +your place, 'out you go,' I'd say, 'you're not the man for my money.' +Don't let what the world says fret you, Bryan; sure, while you have +Kathleen and me at your back, you needn't care about them. At any rate, +it's well for Father M'Pepper that I'm not a man, or, priest as he +is, I'd make a stout horsewhip tiche him to mind his religion, and not +intermeddle in politics where he has no business.” + +“Why, you're a great little soldier, Dora,” replied Bryan, smiling on +her with affectionate admiration. + +“I hate anything tyrannical or overbearing,” she replied, “as I do +anything that's mane and ungenerous.” + +“As to Father M'Pepper, we're not to take him as an example of what his +brother priests in general are or ought to be. The man may think he is +doing only his duty; but, at all events, Dora, he has proved to me, very +much at my own cost, I grant, that he has more zeal than discretion! May +God forgive him; and that's the worst I wish him. When did you see or +hear from Kathleen? I long to give her an explanation of my conduct, +because I know she will listen to raison.” + +“That's more than I know yet, then,” replied Dora. “She has awful high +notions of our religion, an' thinks we ought to go about huntin' after +martyrdom. Yes, faix, she thinks we ought to lay down our lives for our +religion or our counthry, if we were to be called on to do so. Isn't +that nice doctrine? She's always reading books about them.” + +“It is, Dora, and thrue doctrine; and so we ought--that is, if our +deaths would serve either the one or the other.” + +“And would you die for them, if it went to that? because if you would, I +would; for then I'd know that I ought to do it.” + +“I don't know, Dora, whether I'd have strength or courage to do so, but +I know one who would.” + +“I know too--Kathleen.” + +“Kathleen? you have said it. She would, I am certain, lay down her +life for either her religion or the welfare of her country, if such a +sacrifice could be necessary.” + +“Bryan, I have heard a thing about her, and I don't know whether I ought +to tell it to you or not.” + +“I lave that to your own discretion, Dora; but you haven't heard, nor +can you tell me anything, but what must be to her credit.” + +“I'll tell you, then; I heard it, but I won't believe it till I satisfy +myself--that your family daren't name your name to her at home, and that +everything is to be over between you. Now, I'm on my way there to know +whether this is true or not; if it is, I'll think less of her than I +ever did.” + +“And I won't Dora; but will think more highly of her still. She thinks +I'm as bad as I'm reported to be.” + +“And that's just what she ought not to think. Why not see you and ask +you the raison of it like a--ha! ha!--I was goin' to say like a man? +Sure if she was as generous as she ought to be, she'd call upon you to +explain yourself; or, at any rate, she'd defend you behind your back, +and, when the world's against you, whether you wor right or wrong.” + +“She'd do nothing at the expense of truth,” replied her brother. + +“Truth!” exclaimed the lively and generous girl, now catching the warmth +from her own enthusiasm, “truth! who'd regard truth--” + +“Dora!” exclaimed Bryan, with a seriocomic smile. + +“Ha! ha! ha!--truth! what was I sayin'? No, I didn't mean to say +anything against truth; oh, no, God forgive me!” she added, immediately +softening, whilst her bright and beautiful eyes filled with tears, “oh, +no, nor against my darlin' Kathleen either; for, Bryan, I'm tould that +she has never smiled since; and that the color that left her cheeks when +she heard of your vote has never come back to it; and that, in short, +her heart is broken. However, I'll soon see her, and maybe I won't plade +your cause; no lawyer could match me. Whisht!” she exclaimed, “isn't +that Gerald himself comin' over to us?” + +“It is,” replied Bryan, “let us meet him;” and, as he spoke, they turned +their steps towards him. As they met, Bryan, forgetting everything that +had occurred, and influenced solely by the habit of former friendship +and good feeling, extended his hand with an intention of clasping that +of his old acquaintance, but the latter withdrew, and refused to meet +this usual exponent of good will. + +“Well, Gerald,” said M'Mahon, smiling, “I see you go with the world +too; but, since you won't shake hands with me, allow me to ask your +business.” + +“To deliver a message to you from my daughter, and she'd not allow me to +deliver it to any one but yourself. I came three times to see you before +your sickness, but I didn't find jou at home.” + +“What's the message, Gerald?” + +“The message, Bryan, is--that you are never to spake to her, nor will +she ever more name your name. She will never be your wife; for she says +that the heart that forgets its duty to God, and the hand that has been +soiled by a bribe, can never be anything to her but the cause of shame +and sorrow; and she bids me say that her happiness is gone and her heart +broken. Now, farewell, and think of the girl you have lost by disgracin' +your religion and your name.” + +Bryan paused for a moment, as if irresolute how to act, and exchanged +glances with his high-minded little sister. + +“Tell Kathleen, from me,” said the latter, “that if she had a little +more feeling, and a little less pride or religion, I don't know which, +she'd be more of a woman and less of a saint. My brother, tell her, has +disgraced neither his religion nor his name, and that he has too much of +the pride of an injured man to give back any answer to sich a message. +That's my answer, and not his, and you may ask her if it's either +religion or common justice that makes her condemn him she loved without +a hearing? Goodbye, now, Gerald; give my love to Hanna, and tell her +she's worth a ship-load of her stately sister.” + +Bryan remained silent. In fact, he felt so completely overwhelmed that +he was incapable of uttering a syllable. On seeing Cavanagh return, he +was about to speak, when he looked upon the glowing cheeks, flashing +eyes, and panting bosom of his heroic little sister. + +“You are right, my darling Dora. I must be proud on receiving such a +message. Kathleen has done me injustice, and I must be proud in my own +defence.” + +The full burthen of this day's care, however, had not been yet laid upon +him. On returning home, he heard from one of his laborers that a notice +to quit his farm of Ahadarra had been left at his house. This, after +the heavy sums of money which he had expended in its improvement and +reclamation, was a bitter addition to what he was forced to suffer. On +hearing of this last circumstance, and after perusing the notice which +the man, who had come on some other message, had brought with him, he +looked around him on every side for a considerable time. At length he +said, “Dora, is not this a fine country?” + +“It is,” she replied, looking at him with surprise. + +“Would you like,” he added, “to lave it?” + +“To lave it, Bryan!” she replied. “Oh, no, not to lave it;” and as she +spoke, a deadly paleness settled upon her face. + +“Poor Dora,” he said, after surveying her for a time with an expression +of love and compassion, “I know your saicret, and have done so this long +time; but don't be cast down. You have been a warm and faithful little +friend to me, and it will go hard or I'll befriend you yet.” + +Dora looked up into his face, and as she did, her eyes filled with +tears. “I won't deny what you know, Bryan,” she replied; “and unless +he----” + +“Well, dear, don't fret; he and I will have a talk about it; but, come +what may, Dora, in this neglected and unfortunate country I will not +stay. Here, now, is a notice to quit my farm, that I have improved at an +expense of seven or eight hundred pounds, an' its now goin' to be taken +out of my hands, and every penny I expended on it goes into the pocket +of the landlord or agent, or both, and I'm to be driven out of house +and home without a single farthing of compensation for the buildings and +other improvements that I made on that farm.” + +“It's a hard and cruel case,” said Dora; “an there can be no doubt but +that the landlord and Fethertonge are both a pair of great rogues. Can't +you challenge them, an' fight them?” + +“Why, what a soldier you are, Dora!” replied her brother, smiling; “but +you don't know that their situation in life and mine puts that entirely +out o' the question. If a landlord was to be called upon to fight every +tenant he neglects, or is unjust to, he would have a busy time of it. +No, no, Dora dear, my mind's made up. We will lave the country. We will +go to America; but, in the mean time, I'll see what I can do for you.” + +“Bryan, dear,” she said in a voice of entreaty, “don't think of it. +Oh, stay in your own country. Sure what other country could you like as +well?” + +“I grant you that, Dora; but the truth is, there seems to be a curse +over it; whatever's the raison of it, nothing goes right in it. The +landlords in general care little about the state and condition of their +tenantry. All they trouble themselves about is their rents. Look at my +own case, an' that's but one out of thousands that's happenin' every +day in the country. Grantin' that he didn't sarve me with this notice +to quit, an' supposin' he let me stay in the farm, he'd rise it on me in +sich a way as that I could hardly live in it; an' you know, Dora, that +to be merely strugglin' an' toilin' all one's life is anything but a +comfortable prospect. Then, in consequence of the people depondin upon +nothing but the potato for food, whenever that fails, which, in general, +it does every seventh or eighth year, there's a famine, an' then the +famine is followed by fever an' all kinds of contagious diseases, +in sich a way that the kingdom is turned into one great hospital and +grave-yard. It's these things that's sendin' so many thousands out of +the country; and if we're to go at all, let us go like the rest, while +we're able to go, an' not wait till we become too poor either to go or +stay with comfort.” + +“Well, I suppose,” replied his sister, “that what you say is true +enough; but for all that I'd rather bear anything in my own dear country +than go to a strange one. Do you think I'd not miss the summer sun +rising behind the Althadawan hills? an' how could I live without seein' +him set behind Mallybeney? An' then to live in a country where I'd not +see these ould hills, the green glens, and mountain rivers about us, +that have all grown into my heart. Oh, Bryan, dear, don't think of +it--don't think of it.” + +[Illustration: PAGE 603-- country where I'd not see these ould hills] + +“Dora,” replied the other, his fine countenance overshadowed with, deep +emotion as he spoke, “you cannot love these ould hills, as you cull +them, nor these beautiful glens, nor the mountain rivers better than I +do. It will go to my heart to leave them; but leave them I will--ay, and +when I go, you know that I will leave behind me one that's dearer ten +thousand times than them all. Kathleen's message has left me a heavy and +sorrowful heart.” + +“I pity her now,” replied the kind-hearted girl; “but, still, Bryan, she +sent you a harsh message. Ay, I pity her, for did you observe how the +father looked when he said that she bid him tell you her happiness was +gone, and her heart broken; still, she ought to have seen yourself and +heard your defence.” + +“I can neither blame her, nor will; neither can I properly justify my +vote, I grant; it was surely very wrong or she wouldn't feel it as she +does. Indeed. I think I oughtn't to have voted at all.” + +“I differ with you there, Bryan,” replied Dora, with animation, “I would +rather, ten times over, vote wrongly, than not vote from cowardice. +It's a mane, skulkin', shabby thing, to be afeard to vote when one has a +vote--it's unmanly.” + +“I know it is; and it was that very thought that made me vote. I felt +that it would look both mane and cowardly not to vote, and accordingly +I did vote.” + +“Ay, and you did right,” replied his spirited sister, “and I don't care +who opposes you, I'll support you for it, through thick and thin.” + +“And I suppose you may say through right and wrong, too?” + +“Ay, would I,” she replied; “eh?--what am I sayin?--throth, I'm a little +madcap, I think. No, I won't support you through right and wrong--it's +only when you're right you may depend on me.” + +They had now been more than an hour strolling about the fields, when +Bryan, who did not feel himself quite so strong as he imagined he was, +proposed to return to his father's, where, by the way, he had been +conveyed from the chapel on the Sunday when he had been so severely +maltreated. + +They accordingly did so, for he felt himself weak, and unable to prolong +his walk to any greater distance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI.--Thomas M'Mahon is forced to determine on Emigration. + + +Gerald Cavanaugh felt himself secretly relieved by the discharge of his +message to M'Mahon. + +“It is good,” thought he, “to have that affair settled, an' all +expectation of her marriage with him knocked up. I'll be bound a little +time will cool the foolish girl, and put Edward Burke in the way of +succeeding. As for Hycy, I see clearly that whoever is to succeed, he's +not the man--an' the more the pity, for the sorra one of them all so +much the gentleman, nor will live in sich style.” + +The gloom which lay upon the heart of Kathleen Cavanagh was neither +moody nor captious, but on the contrary remarkable for a spirit of +extreme gentleness and placidity. From the moment she had come to the +resolution of discarding M'Mahon, she was observed to become more +silent than she had ever been, but at the same time her deportment was +characterized by a tenderness towards the other members of the family +that was sorrowful and affecting to the last degree. Her sister Hanna's +sympathy was deep and full of sorrow. None of them, however, knew her +force of character, nor the inroads which, under guise of this placid +calm, strong grief was secretly making on her health and spirits. The +paleness, for instance, which settled on her cheeks, when the news +of her lover's apostacy, as it was called, and as she considered it, +reached her, never for one moment left it afterwards, and she resembled +some exquisitely chiselled statue moving by machinery, more than +anything else to which we can compare her. + +She was sitting with Hanna when her father returned, after having +delivered her message to M'Mahon. The old man seemed, if one could judge +by his features, to feel rather satisfied, as in fact was the case, and +after having put up his good hat, and laid aside his best coat, he +said, “I have delivered your message, Kathleen, an' dear knows I'm glad +there's an end to that business--it never had my warm heart.” + +“It always had mine, then,” replied Hanna, “an' I think we ought not to +judge our fellow creatures too severely, knowin' as we do that there's +no such thing as perfection in this world. What the sorra could have +come over him, or tempted him to vote as he did? What did he say, +father, when you brought him the message?” + +“Afther I declared it,” replied her father, “he was struck dumb, and +never once opened his lips; but if he didn't spake, his sister Dora +did.” + +“An' what did she say--generous and spirited little Dora!--what did she +say, father?” + +He then repeated the message as accurately as he could--for the honest +old man was imbued with too conscientious a love for truth to disguise +or conceal a single syllable that had been intrusted to him on either +side--“Throth,” said he, “the same Dora has the use of her tongue when +she pleases; 'ax her,' said she, spakin' of Kathleen, here, 'if it's +either religion or common justice that makes her condemn my brother +without hearin' his defence. Good-bye, now,' says she; 'give my love to +Hanna, and tell her 'she's worth a ship-load of her stately sister.'” + +“Poor Dora!” exclaimed Hanna, whilst the tears came to her eyes, “who +can blame her for defending so good and affectionate a brother? Plague +on it for an election! I wish there was no sich thing in the country.” + +“As for me,” said Kathleen, “I wouldn't condemn him without a hearing, +if I had any doubt about his conduct, but I have not. He voted for +Vanston--that can't be denied; and proved himself to have less honesty +and scruple than even that profligate Hycy Burke; and if he made a +bargain with Vanston, as is clear he did, an' voted for him because the +other got his fine reduced, why that is worse, because then he did it +knowingly an' with his eyes open, an' contrary to his conscience--ay, +an' to his solemn promise to myself; for I'll tell you now what I never +mentioned before, that I put him on his guard against doing so; and he +knew that if he did, all would and must be over between him and me.” + +“Is that true, Kathleen?” said Hanna with surprise; “but why need I ask +you such a question--it's enough that you say it--in that case then I +give him up at last; but who, oh, who could a' believed it?” + +“But that is not all,” continued Kathleen, in the same mournful and +resigned tone of voice--“there's the bribe--didn't hundreds hear him +acknowledge publicly in the chapel that he got it? What more is wanting? +How could I ever respect a man that has proved himself to be without +either honesty or principle? and why should it happen, that the man who +has so openly and so knowingly disgraced his religion and his name fall +to my lot? Oh, no--it matters little how I love him, and I grant that in +spite of all that has happened I have a lingering affection for him +even yet; still I don't think that affection will live long--I can now +neither respect or esteem him, an' when that is the case I can't surely +continue long to love him. I know,” she proceeded, “that it's not +possible for him ever to clear himself of this shocking and shameful +conduct; but lest there might be any chance of it, I now say before you +all, that if something doesn't come about within three months, that may +and ought to change my feelings towards him, I'll live afterwards as if +I had never known him.” + +“Mightn't you see him, however, an' hear what he has to say for +himself?” asked Hanna. + +“No,” the other replied; “he heard my message, and was silent. You may +rest assured if he had anything to say in his own defence, he would +have said it, or asked to see me. Oh, no, no, because I feel that he's +defenceless.” + +In this peculiar state of circumstances our readers need not feel +surprised that every possible agency was employed to urge her beyond the +declaration she had made, and to induce her to receive the addresses of +Edward Burke. Her own parents, old Jemmy Burke, the whole body of her +relatives, each in turn, and sometimes several of them together, added +to which we may mention the parish priest, who was called in by both +families, or at least by old Jemmy Burke and the Cavanaghs--all we say +perpetually assailed her on the subject of a union with Edward Burke, +and assailed her so pertinaciously, that out of absolute apathy, if not +despair, and sick besides of their endless importunities, she at last +said--“If Edward Burke can be satisfied with a wife that has no heart to +give him, or that cannot love him, I don't care much how I am disposed +of; he may as well call me wife as another, and better, for if I cannot +love, I can at least respect him.” + +These circumstances, together with the period allowed to M'Mahon for +setting himself, if possible, right with Kathleen, in due time reached +his ears. It soon appeared, however, that Kathleen had not all the +pride--if pride it could be called--to herself. M'Mahon, on being made +acquainted with what had occurred, which he had heard from his sister +Dora, simply said--“Since she has not afforded myself any opportunity +of tellin' her the truth, I won't attempt to undeceive her. I will be as +proud as she is. That is all I say.” + +“And you are right, Tom,” replied Dora, “the name of M'Mahon mustn't be +consarned with anything that's mane or discreditable. The pride of our +old blood must be kept up, Tom; but still when we think of what she's +sufferin' we musn't open our lips against her.” + +“Oh, no,” he replied; “I know that it's neither harshness nor weakness, +nor useless pride that makes her act as she's doin', but a great mind +and a heart that's full of truth, high thoughts, and such a love for her +religion and its prosperity as I never saw in any one. Still, Dora, I'm +not the person that will ever sneak back to entreat and plead at her +feet like a slave, and by that means make myself look still worse in her +eyes; I know very well that if I did so she'd despise me. God bless her, +at all events, and make her happy! that's the worst I wish her.” + +“Amen,” replied Dora; “you have said nothing but the truth about her, +and indeed. I see, Tom, that you know her well.” + +Thus ended the generous dialogue of Dora and her affectionate brother, +who after all might have been induced by her to remain in his native +country and share whatever fate it might allot him, were it not that in +a few days afterwards, his father found that the only terms on which he +could obtain his farm were such as could scarcely be said to come within +the meaning and spirit of the landlord's adage, “live and let live.” + It is true that for the terms on which his farm was offered him he was +indebted to Chevydale himself, who said that as he knew his father had +entertained a high respect for old M'Mahon, he would not suffer him to +be put out. The father besides voted for him, and always had voted for +the family. “Do what you please with the son,” he proceeded--“get rid of +him as you like, but I shan't suffer the father to be removed. Let him +have the farm upon reasonable terms; and, by the way, Fethertonge, don't +you think now it was rather an independent act of the young fellow to +vote for Vanston, although he knew that I had it in my power to send him +about his business?” + +“It was about as impudent a piece of gratitude and defiance as ever I +witnessed,” returned the other. “The wily rascal calculated upon your +forbearance and easiness of disposition, and so imagined that he might +do what he pleased with impunity. We shall undeceive him, however.” + +“Well, but you forget that he, had some cause of displeasure against us, +in consequence of having neglected his memorial to the Commissioners of +Excise.” + +“Yes; but as I said before, how could we with credit involve ourselves +in the illegal villany of a smuggler? It is actually a discredit to have +such a fellow upon the estate. He is, in the first place, a bad +example, and calculated by his conduct and influence to spread dangerous +principles among the tenantry. However, as it is, he is, fortunately for +us, rather well known at present. It is now perfectly notorious--and I +have it from the best authority--one of the parties who was cognizant +of his conduct--that his vote against you was the result of a deliberate +compact with our enemy, Vanston, and that he received a bribe of fifty +pounds from him. This he has had the audacity to acknowledge himself, +being the very amount of the sum to which the penalty against him was +mitigated by Vanston's interference. In fact the scoundrel is already +infamous in the country.” + +“What, for receiving a bribe!” exclaimed Chevydale, looking at the agent +with a significant smile; “and what, pray, is the distinction between +him who gives and him who takes a bribe? Let us look at home a little, +my good Fethertonge, and learn a little charity to those who err as we +do. A man would think now to hear you attack M'Mahon for bribery, that +you never had bribed a man in your life; and yet you know that it is +the consciousness of bribery on our own part that prevents us from +attempting to unseat Vanston.” + +“That's all very true, I grant you,” replied the other; “but in the +mean time we must keep up appearances. The question, so far as regards +M'Mahon, is--not so much whether he is corrupt or not, as whether he has +unseated you; that is the fatal fact against him; and if we allow that +to pass without making him suffer for it, you will find that on the +next election he may have many an imitator, and your chances will not be +worth much--that's all.” + +“Very well, Fethertonge,” replied the indolent and feeble-minded man, +“I leave him to you; manage him or punish him as you like; but I do beg +that you will let me hear no more about him. Keep his father, however, +on the property; I insist on that; he is an honest man, for he voted for +me; keep him on his farm at reasonable terms too, such,--of course, as +he can live on.” + +The reasonable terms proposed by Fethertonge were, however, such as old +Tom M'Mahon could not with any prospect of independence encounter. Even +this, however, was not to him the most depressing consideration. Faith +had been wantonly and deliberately broken with him--the solemn words +of a dying man had been disregarded--and, as Fethertonge had made him +believe, by that son who had always professed to regard and honor his +father's memory. + +“I assure you, M'Mahon,” replied the agent, in the last interview he +ever had with him, “I assure you I have done all in my power to bring +matters about; but without avail. It is a painful thing to have to do +with an obstinate man, M'Mahon; with a man who, although he seems quiet +and easy, will and must have everything his own way.” + +“Well, sir,” replied M'Mahon, “you know what his dying father's words +wor to me.” + +“And more than I know them, I can assure you,” he whispered, in a very +significant voice, and with a nod of the head that seemed to say, +“your landlord knows them as well as I do. I have done my duty, and +communicated them to him, as I ought.” + +M'Mahon shook his head in a melancholy manner, and said,-- + +“Well, sir, at any rate I know the worst. I couldn't now have any +confidence or trust in such a man; I could depend upon neither his word +or his promise; I couldn't look upon him as a friend, for he didn't +prove himself one to my son when he stood in need of one. It's clear +that he doesn't care about the welfare and prosperity of his tenantry; +and for that raison--or rather for all these raisons put together--I'll +join my son, and go to a country where, by all accounts, there's better +prospects for them that's honest and industrious than there is in this +unfortunate one of ours,--where the interest of the people is so much +neglected--neglected! no, but never thought of at all! Good-bye, sir,” + he added, taking up his hat, whilst the features of this sterling and +honest man were overcast with a solemn and pathetic spirit, “don't +consider me any longer your tenant. For many a long year has our names +been--but no matther--the time is come at last, and the M'Mahon's of +Carriglass and Ahadarra will be known there no more. It wasn't our +fault; we wor willin' to live--oh! not merely willin' to live, but +anxious to die there; but it can't be. Goodbye, sir.” And so they +parted. + +M'Mahon, on his return home, found Bryan, who now spent most of his time +at Carriglass, before him. On entering the house his family, who were +all assembled, saw by the expression of his face that his heart had been +deeply moved, and was filled with sorrow. + +“Bryan,” said he, “you are right--as indeed you always are. Childre',” + he proceeded, “we must lave the place that we loved so much; where we +have lived for hundreds of years. This counthry isn't one now to prosper +in, as I said not long since--this very day. We must lave the ould +places, an' as I tould Fethertonge, the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and +Carriglass will be the M'Mahons of Ahadarra and Carriglass no more; but +God's will be done! I must look to the intherest of you all, childre'; +but, God help us, that's what I can't do here for the future. Every one +of sense and substance is doin' so, an' why shouldn't we take care of +ourselves as well as the rest? What we want here is encouragement and +fair play; but _fareer gair_, it isn't to be had.” + +The gloom which they read in his countenance was now explained, but this +was not all; it immediately settled upon the other members of the family +who were immediately moved,--all by sorrow, and some even to tears. +Dora, who, notwithstanding what her brother had said with regard to his +intention of emigrating, still maintained a latent hope that he might +change his mind, and that a reconciliation besides might yet be brought +about between him and Kathleen, now went to her father, and, with tears +in her eyes, threw her arms about his neck, exclaiming: “Oh, father +dear, don't think of leaving this place, for how could we leave it? What +other country could we ever like as well? and my grandfather--here he's +creepin' in, sure he's not the same man within the last few months,--oh, +how could you think of bringin' him, now that he's partly in his grave, +an' he,” she added, in a whisper full of compassion, “an' he partly +dotin' with feebleness and age.” + +“Hush!” said her father, “we must say nothing of it to him. That must be +kept a secret from him, an' it's likely he won't notice the change.” + +Kitty then went over, and laying her hand on her father's arm, said: +“Father, for the love of God, don't take us from Carriglass and +Ahadarra:--whatever the world has for us, whether for good or evil, let +us bear it here.” + +“Father, you won't bring us nor you won't go,” added Dora; “sure we +never could be very miserable here, where we have all been so happy.” + +“Poor Dora!” said Bryan, “what a mistake that is! I feel the contrary; +for the very happiness that I and all of us enjoyed here, now only adds +to what I'm sufferin'.” + +“Childre',” said the father, “our landlord has broken his own father's +dyin' promise--you all remember how full of delight I came home to you +from Dublin, and how she that's gone”--he paused;--he covered his face +with his open hands, through which the tears were seen to trickle. +This allusion to their beloved mother was too much for them. Arthur +and Michael sat in silence, not knowing exactly upon what grounds their +father had formed a resolution, which, when proposed to him by Bryan, +appeared to be one to which his heart could never lend its sanction. +No sooner was their mother named, however, than they too became deeply +moved, and when Kitty and Dora both rushed with an outcry of sorrow to +their father, exclaiming, “Oh, father dear, think of her that's in the +clay--for her sake, change your mind and don't take us to where we can +never weep a tear over her blessed grave, nor ever kneel over it to +offer a prayer within her hearin' for her soul!” + +“Childre,” he exclaimed, wiping away his tears that had indeed flowed +in all the bitterness of grief and undeserved affliction; “childre',” + he replied, “you must be manly now; it's because I love you an' feels +anxious to keep you from beggary and sorrow at a future time, and +destitution and distress, such as we see among so many about us every +day in the week, that I've made up my mind to go. Our landlord wont give +us our farm barrin' at a rent that 'tid bring us down day by day, to +poverty and distress like too many of our neighbors. We have yet some +thrifle o' money left, as much as will, by all accounts, enable us to +take--I mane to purchase a farm in America--an' isn't it betther for us +to go there, and be independent, no matther what it may cost our hearts +to suffer by doin' so, than to stay here until the few hundre' that +I've got together is melted away out of my pocket into the picket of a +landlord that never wanst throubles himself to know how we're gettin' +on, or whether we're doin' well or ill. Then think of his conduct to +Bryan, there; how he neglected him, and would let him go to ruin widout +ever movin' a finger to save him from it. No, childre', undher sich a +man I won't stay. Prepare yourselves, then, to lave this. In biddin' you +to do so, I'm actin' for the best towards you all. I'm doin' my duty by +you, and I expect for that raison, an' as obedient childre'--which I've +ever found you--that you'll do your duty by me, an' give no further +opposition to what I'm proposin' for your sakes. I know you're all +loath--an' you will be loath--to lave this place; but do you think?--do +you?--'that I--I--oh, my God!--do you think, I say, that I'll feel +nothing when we go? Oh! little you know of me if you think so! but, as +I said, we must do our duty. We see our neighbors fallin' away into +poverty, and distress, and destitution day by day, and if we remain in +this unfortunate country, we must only folly in their tracks, an' before +long be as miserable and helpless as they are.” + +His family were forced to admit the melancholy truth and strong sense +of all he had uttered, and, although the resolution to which he had come +was one of bitterness and sorrow to them all, yet from a principle of +affection and duty towards him, they felt that any opposition on their +part would have been unjustifiable and wrong. + +“But, sure,” the old man proceeded, “there's more than I've mentioned +yet, to send us away. Look at poor Bryan, there, how he was nearly +ruined by the villany of some cowardly scoundrel, or scoundrels, who set +up a still upon his farm; that's a black business, like many other black +business that's a disgrace to the country--an inoffensive young man, +that never made or did anything to make an enemy for himself, durin' his +whole life! An' another thing, bekaise he voted for the man that saved +him from destruction, as he ought to do, an' as I'm proud he did do, +listen now to the blackguard outcry that's against him; ay, and by a +crew of vagabonds that 'ud sell Christ himself, let alone their country, +or their religion, if they were bribed by Protestant goold for it! +Throth I'm sick of the counthry and the people; for instead of gettin' +betther, it's worse they're gettin' every day. Make up your minds then, +childre'; there's a curse on the counthry. Many o' the landlords are +bad enough, too bad, and too neglectful, God knows; but sure the people +themselves is as bad, an' as senseless on the other hand; aren't they +blinded so much by their bad feelin's, and short-sighted passions, that +it is often the best landlords they let out their revenge upon. Prepare +then, childre'; for out of the counthry, or at any rate from among the +people, the poverty and the misery that's in it, wid God's assistance, +we'll go while we're able to do so.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII.--Mystery Among the Hogans + +--Finigan Defends the Absent. + + +The three Hogans, whom we have lost sight of for some time, were, as our +readers already know, three most unadulterated ruffians, in every +sense of that most respectable term. Yet, singular as it may appear, +notwithstanding their savage brutality, they were each and all possessed +of a genius for mechanical inventions and manual dexterity that was +perfectly astonishing when the low character of their moral, and +intellectual standard is considered. Kate Hogan, who, from her position, +could not possibly be kept out of their secrets, at least for any length +of time, was forced to notice of late that there was a much closer and +more cautious intimacy between Hycy Burke and them than she had ever +observed before. She remarked, besides, that not only was Teddy Phats +excluded from their councils, but she herself was sent out of the way, +whenever Hycy paid them a visit, which uniformly occurred at a late +hour, in the night. + +Another circumstance also occurred about this time which puzzled her not +a little: we mean the unusual absence of Philip for about a fortnight +from home. Now, there certainly nothing more offensive, especially to a +female, than the fact of excluding her from the knowledge of any secret, +a participation in which she may consider as a right. In her case +she felt that it argued want of confidence, and as she had never yet +betrayed any trust or secret reposed in her, she considered their +conduct towards her, not merely as an insult, but such as entitled them +to nothing at her hands but resentment, and a determination to thwart +their plans, whatever they might be, as soon as she should succeed in +making herself acquainted with them. What excited her resentment the +more bitterly was the arrival of a strange man and woman in company with +Philip, as she was able to collect, from the metropolis, to the former +of whom they all seemed to look with much deference as to a superior +spirit of the secret among them this man and his wife were clearly +in possession, as was evident from their whisperings and other +conversations, which they held apart, and uniformly out of her hearing. +It is true the strangers did not reside with the Hogans, but in a small +cabin adjacent to that in which Finigan taught his school. Much of the +same way of thinking was honest Teddy Phats, whom they had now also +abandoned, or rather completely cast off, and, what was still worse, +deprived of the whole apparatus for distillation, which, although +purchased by Hycy Burke's money, they very modestly appropriated to +themselves. Teddy, however, as well as Kate, knew that they were never +cautious without good reason, and as it had pleased them to cut him, as +the phrase goes, so did he, as Kate had done, resolve within himself to +penetrate their secret, if human ingenuity could effect it. + +In this position they were when honest Philip returned, as we have said, +after a fortnight's absence, from some place or places unknown. The +mystery, however, did not end here. Kate observed that, as before, much +of their conversation was held aloof from her, or in such enigmatical +phrases and whisperings, as rendered the substance of it perfectly +inscrutable to her. She observed, besides, that two of them were +frequently absent from the kiln where they lived; but that one always +remained at home to make certain that she should not follow or dog them +to the haunt they frequented. This precaution on their part was uniform. +As it was, however, Kate did not seem to notice it. On the contrary, no +one could exhibit a more finished appearance of stupid indifference than +she assumed upon these occasions, even although she knew by the removal +of the tools, or a portion of them, that her friends were engaged in +some business belonging to their craft. In this manner matters proceeded +for some weeks subsequent to the period of Philip's return. + +Kate also observed, with displeasure, that among all those who joined in +the outcry against Bryan M'Mahon, none made his conduct, such as it was +conceived to have been, a subject of more brutal and bitter triumph than +the Hogans. The only circumstance connected with him which grieved them +to the heart, was the fact that the distillation plot had not ruined him +as they expected it would have done. His disgrace, however, and unjust +ejectment from Ahadarra filled them with that low, ruffianly sense of +exultation, than which, coming from such scoundrels, there is scarcely +anything more detestable in human nature. + +One evening about this time they were sitting about the fire, the three +brothers, Kate, and the young unlicked savages of the family, when +Philip, after helping himself to a glass of quints, said,-- + +“At any rate, there'll be no match between Miss Kathleen and that +vagabond, Bryan M'Mahon. I think we helped to put a nail in his coffin +there, by gob.” + +“Ay,” said Kate, “an' you may boast of it, you unmanly vagabone; an' yet +you purtind to have a regard for the poor girl, an' a purty way you tuck +to show it--to have her as she is, goin' about wid a pale face an' a +broken heart. Don't you see it's her more than him you're punishin', you +savage of hell?” + +“You had betther keep your tongue off o' me,” he replied; “I won't get +into grips wid you any more, you barge o' blazes; but, if you provoke me +wid bad language, I'll give you a clink wid one o' these sotherin'-irons +that'll put a clasp on your tongue.” + +“Never attempt that,” she replied fiercely, “for, as sure as you do, +I'll have this knife,” showing him a large, sharp-pointed one, which, in +accordance with the customs of her class, hung by a black belt of strong +leather from her side--“I'll have this customer here greased in your +puddins, my buck, and, when the win's out o' you, see what you'll be +worth--fit for Captain James's hounds; although I dunno but the very +dogs themselves is too clane to ait you.” + +“Come,” said Bat, “we'll have no more o' this; do you, Philip, keep +quiet wid your sotherin'-iron, and, as for you, Kate, don't dhraw me +upon you; _na ha nan shin_--it isn't Philip you have. I say I'm right +well plaised that we helped to knock up the match.” + +“Don't be too sure,” replied Kate, “that it is knocked up; don't now, +mind my words; an' take care that, instead of knockin' it up, you +haven't knocked yourselves down. Chew your cud upon that now.” + +“What does she mane?” asked Ned, looking on her with a baleful glance, +in which might be read equal ferocity and alarm. “Why, traichery, of +coorse,” replied Philip, in his deep, glowing voice. “Kate,” said her +husband, starting into something' like an incipient fit of fury, but +suddenly checking himself--“Kate, my honey, what do you mane by them +words?” + +“What do I mane by them words?” she exclaimed, with an eye which turned +on him with cool defiance; “pick that out o' your larnin', Bat, my pet. +You can all keep your saicrets; an' I'll let you know that I can keep +mine.” + +“Be the Holy St. Lucifer,” said her husband, “if I wanst thought that +traichery 'ud enter your head, I'd take good care that it's in hell +you'd waken some fine mornin' afore long. So mind yourself, Kate, my +honey.” + +“Are you in nobody else's power but mine?” she replied, “ax yourselves +that--an' now do you mind yourself, Bat, my pet, and all o' yez.” + +“What is the raison,” asked her husband, “that I see you an' Nanny Peety +colloguin' an' huggermuggerin' so often together of late?” + +“Ah,” she replied, with a toss of disdain, “what a manly fellow you are +to want to get into women's saicrets! you may save your breath though.” + +“Whatever you collogue about, all I say is, that I don't like a bone in +the same Nanny Peety's body. She has an eye in her head that looks as if +it knew one's thoughts.” + +“An' maybe it does. One thing I know, and every one knows it, that it's +a very purty eye.” + +“Tell her, then, to keep out o' this; we want no spies here.” + +“Divil a word of it; she's my niece, an' the king's highway is as free +to her as it is to you or anybody else. She'll be welcome to me any time +she comes, an' let me see who'll dare to mislist her. She feels as she +ought to do, an' as every woman ought to do, ay, an' every man, too, +that is a man, or anything but a brute an' a coward--she feels for that +unfortunate, heart-broken girl 'ithout;' an' it'll be a strange thing +if them that brought her to what she's sufferin' won't suffer +themselves yet; there's a God above still, I hope, glory be to His name! +Traichery!” she exclaimed; “ah, you ill-minded villains, it's yourselves +you're thinkin' of, an' what you desarve. As for myself, it's neither +you nor your villainy that's in my head, but the sorrowful heart that's +in that poor girl 'ithout--ay, an' a broken one; for, indeed, broked it +is; and it's not long she'll be troub'lin' either friend or foe in this +world. The curse o' glory upon you all, you villains, and upon every one +that had a hand in bringing her to this!” + +Having uttered these words, she put her cloak and bonnet upon her, and +left the house, adding as she went out, “if it's any pleasure to you to +know it, I'll tell you. I'm goin' to meet Nancy Peety this minute, +an' you never seen sich colloguin' an' hugger-muggerin' as we'll have, +plaise goodness--ah, you ill-thinkin', skulkin' villains!” + +Kate Hogan, though a tigress when provoked, and a hardened, reckless +creature, scarcely remarkable for any particular virtue that could be +enumerated, and formidable from that savage strength and intrepidity +for which she was so well known, was yet not merely touched by the +sufferings of Kathleen Cavanagh, but absolutely took an interest in +them, at once so deep and full of sympathy, as to affect her temper and +disturb her peace of mind. Notwithstanding her character she was still +a woman; and, in matters involving the happiness of an innocent and +beautiful creature of her own sex, who had been so often personally kind +to herself, and whose family were protectors and benefactors to her and +her kindred, she felt as a woman. Though coarse-minded upon most many +matters, she was yet capable of making the humane distinction which her +brutal relatives could not understand or feel;--we mean the fact that, +in having lent themselves to the base conspiracy planned and concocted +by Hycy Burke, and in having been undoubtedly the cause of M'Mahon's +disgrace, as well as of his projected marriage with Kathleen having been +broken up, they did not perceive that she was equally a sufferer; or, +if they did, they were either too cunning or too hardened to acknowledge +it. For this particular circumstance, Kate, inasmuch as it involved deep +ingratitude on their part, could not at all forgive them. + +At this time, indeed, the melancholy position of Kathleen Cavanagh was +one which excited profound and general sorrow; and just in proportion +as this was sincere, so was the feeling of indignation against him whose +corruption and want of principle were supposed to have involved her +in their consequences. Two months or better of the period allotted by +Kathleen to the vindication of his character, had now elapsed, and yet +nothing had been done to set himself right either with her or the world. +She consequently argued and with apparent reason, that everything in the +shape of justification was out of his power, and this reflection only +deepened her affliction. Yes, it deepened her affliction; but it did +not; on that account succeed in enabling her to obliterate his image +the more easily from her heart. The fact was, that despite the force and +variety of the rumors that were abroad against him--and each succeeding +week brought in some fresh instance of his duplicity and profligacy, +thanks to the ingenious and fertile malignity of Hycy the +accomplished--despite of this, and despite of all, the natural reaction +of her heart had set in--their past endearments, their confidence their +tenderness, their love, now began, after the first vehement expression +of pride and high principle had exhausted the offended mind of its +indignation, to gradually resume their influence over her. A review, +besides, of her own conduct towards her lover was by no means +satisfactory to her. Whilst she could not certainly but condemn him, +she felt as if she had judged him upon a principle at once too cold and +rigorous. Indeed, now that a portion of time had enabled her mind to +cool, she could scarcely understand why it was that she had passed, so +harsh a sentence upon him. She was not, however, capable of analyzing +her own mind and feelings upon the occasion, or she might have known +that her severity towards the man I was the consequence, on her part, of +that innate scorn and indignation which pure and lofty minds naturally +entertain against everything dishonorable and base, and that it is a +very difficult thing to disassociate the crime from the criminal, even +in cases where the latter may have had a strong hold upon the affections +of such a noble nature. Nay, the very fact of finding that one's +affections have been fixed upon a person capable of such dishonor, +produces a double portion of indignation at the discovery of their +profligacy, because it supposes, in the first place, that something like +imposture must have been practised upon us in securing our affections, +or what is still more degrading, that we must have been materially +devoid of common penetration, or we could not have suffered ourselves to +become the dupe of craft and dissimulation. + +Our high-minded heroine, however, had no other theory upon the subject +of her own feelings, than that she loved her religion and its precepts, +and detested every word that was at variance with truth, and every act +inconsistent with honesty and that faithful integrity which resists +temptation and corruption in whatever plausible shapes they may approach +it. + +Be this, however, as it may, she now found that, as time advanced, her +heart began to fall into its original habits. The tumult occasioned by +the shock resulting from her lover's want of integrity, had now nearly +passed away, and the affection of the woman began to supersede the +severity of the judge. By degrees she was enabled, as we have said, to +look back upon her conduct, and to judge, of her lover through the more +softened medium of her reviving affection. This feeling gained upon her +slowly but surely, until her conscience became, alarmed at the excess +of her own severity towards him. Still, however, she would occasionally +return, as it were, to a contemplation of his delinquency, and endeavor, +from an unconscious principle of self-love, to work herself up into that +lofty hatred of dishonor which had prompted his condemnation; but the +effort was in vain. Every successive review of his guilt was attended +by a consciousness that she had been righteous overmuch, and that the +consequences of his treason, even against their common religion, were +not only rapidly diminishing in her heart, but yielding to something +that very nearly resembled remorse. + +Such was the state of her feelings on the day when Kate Hogan and her +male relatives indulged in the friendly and affectionate dialogue we +have just detailed. Her heart was smitten, in fact, with sorrow for the +harsh part she had taken against her lover, and she only waited for +an opportunity to pour out a full confession of all she felt into the +friendly ear of her sister. + +Gerald Cavanagh's family at this period was darkened by a general spirit +of depression and gloom. Their brother James, from whatever cause it may +have proceeded, seemed to be nearly as much cast down as his sister; and +were it not that Cavanagh himself and his wife sustained themselves by a +hope that Kathleen might ultimately relax so far as to admit, as she had +partly promised to do, the proposals of Edward Burke, it would have +been difficult to find so much suffering apart from death under the same +roof. + +On the day in question, our friend O'Finigan, whose habits of +intemperance had by no means diminished, called at Cavanagh's, as he had +been in the habit of doing. Poor Kathleen was now suffering, besides, +under the consequences of the injunction not to mention M'Mahon's name, +which she had imposed upon her own family--an injunction which they had +ever since faithfully observed. It was quite evident from the unusually +easy fluency of O'Finigan's manner, that he had not confined his +beverages, during the day, to mere water. Hanna, on seeing him enter, +said to Kathleen, in a whisper,-- + +“Hadn't you better come out and take a walk, Kathleen? This O'Finigan is +almost tipsy, and you know he'll be talking about certain subjects you +don't wish to hear.” + +“Time enough, dear Hanna,” she replied, with a sorrowful look at her +sister, “my heart is so full of suffering and pain that almost anything +will relieve it. You know I was always amused by Finigan's chat.” Her +sister, who had not as yet been made acquainted with the change which +had taken place in her heart, on hearing these words looked at her +closely, and smiled sorrowfully, but in such a manner as if she had +at that moment experienced a sensation of pleasure, if not of hope. +Hitherto, whenever a neighbor or stranger came in, Kathleen, fearing +that the forbidden name might become the topic of conversation, always +retired, either to another room or left the house altogether, in order +to relieve her own family from the painful predicament in which their +promise of silence to her had placed them. On this occasion, however, +Hanna perceived with equal surprise and pleasure that she kept her +ground. + +“Sit ye, merry jinteels!” said Finigan, as he entered; “I hope I see +you all in good health and spirits; I hope I do; although I am afraid if +what fame--an' by the way, Mrs. Cavanagh, my classicality tells me, that +the poet Maro blundered like a Hibernian, when he made the same fame a +trumpeter, in which, wid the exception of one point, he was completely +out of keeping. There's not in all litherature another instance of a +female trumpeter; and for sound raisons--if the fair sex were to get +possession of the tuba, God help the world, for it would soon be a noisy +one. However, let me recollect myself--where was I? Oh! ay--I am afraid +that if what fame says--an' by the way, her trumpet must have been a +speaking one--be true, that there's a fair individual here whose spirits +are not of the most exalted character; and indeed, and as I am the +noblest work of God--an honest man--I feel sorry to hear the fact.” + +The first portion of this address, we need scarcely say, was the only +part of it which was properly understood, if we except a word or two at +the close. + +“God save you, Misther Finigan.” + +“O'Finigan, if you plase, Mrs. Cavanagh.” + +“Well, well,” she replied, “O'Finigan, since it must be so; but in troth +I can!t always remember it, Misther Finigan, in regard that you didn't +always stand out for it yourself. Is there any news stirrin', you that's +abroad?” + +“Not exactly news, ma'am; but current reports that are now no novelty. +The M'Mahon's--” + +“Oh, never mind them,” exclaimed Mrs. Cavanagh, glancing at her +daughter, “if you have any 'other news let us hear it--pass over the +M'Mahons--they're not worth our talk, at least some o' them.” + +“Pardon me, Mrs. Cavanagh;--if Achilles at the head of his myrmidons was +to inform me to that effect, I'd tell him he had mistaken his customer. +My principle, ma'am--and 'tis one I glory in--is to defend the absent in +gineral, for it is both charitable and ginerous to do so--in gineral, I +say; but when I know that they are unjustly aspersed, I contemplate it +as' an act of duty on my part to vindicate them.” + +“Well,” replied Mrs. Cavanagh, “that's all very right an' thrue, Mr. +Finigan.” + +“It is, Mr. Finig--O'Finigan,” observed James Cavanagh, who was present, +“and your words are a credit and an honor to you.” + +“Thanks, James, for the compliment; for it is but truth. The scandal I +say (he proceeded without once regarding the hint: thrown out by Mrs. +Cavanagh) which has! been so studiously disseminated against Bryan +M'Mahon--spare your nods and winks, Mrs. Cavanagh, for if you winked at +me with as many eyes as Argus had, and nodded at me wid as many heads as +Hydra, or that baste in the Revelaytions, I'd not suppress a syllable of +truth;--no, ma'am, the _suppressio veri's_ no habit of mine; and I say +and assert--ay, and asseverate--that that honest and high-spirited +young man, named Bryan or Bernard M'Mahon, is the victim of villany +and falsehood--ay, of devilish hatred and ingenious but cowardly +vituperation.” + +“Kathleen,” whispered her sister, “will you come out, darlin'? this talk +must be painful to you.” + +Kathleen gave her a look of much mingled sorrow and entreaty as went to +her heart. Hanna, whose head had been lovingly reclining on her sister's +bosom, pressed her gently but affectionately to her heart, and made no +reply. + +“You wor always a friend of his,” replied Mrs. Cavanagh, “an' of course +you spake as a friend.” + +“Yes,” said Finigan, “I always was a friend of his, because I always +knew his honesty, his love of truth, his hatred of a mane action, ay, +and his generosity and courage. I knew him from the very egg, I may +say--_ab ovo_--Mrs. Cavanagh; it was I instilled his first principles into +him. Oh! I know well! I never had a scholar I was so proud out of. +Hycy Burke was smart, quick, and cunning; but then he was +traicherous--something of a coward when he had his match--strongly +addicted to fiction in most of his narratives, and what was still a +worse point about him, he had the infamous ingenuity, whenever he had a +point to gain--such as belying a boy and taking away his characther--of +making truth discharge all the blackguard duties of falsehoood. Oh! I +know them both well! But who among all I ever enlightened wid +instruction was the boy that always tould the truth, even when it went +against himself?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who ever defended the +absent?--why, Bryan M'Mahon. Who ever and always took the part of the +weak and defenceless against the strong and tyrannical?--why, Bryan +M'Mahon. Who fought for his religion, too, when the young heretics used +to turn it, or try to turn it, into ridicule--ay, and when cowardly and +traicherous Hycy used to sit quietly by, and either put the insult in +his pocket, or curry favor wid the young sneering vagabonds that abused +it? And yet, at the time Hycy was a thousand times a greater little +bigot than Bryan. The one, wid a juvenile rabble at his back, three to +one, was a tyrant over the young schismatics; whilst Bryan, like a brave +youth as he was, ever and always protected them against the disadvantage +of numbers, and insisted on showing them fair play. I am warm, Mrs. +Cavanagh,” he continued, “and heat, you know, generates thirst. I know +that a drop o' the right sort used to be somewhere undher this same +roof; but I'm afraid if the _fama clamosa_ be thrue, that the side of +the argument I have taken isn't exactly such as to guarantee me a touch +at the native--that is, taking it for granted that there's any in the +house.” + +This request was followed by a short silence. The Cavanagh's all, with +the exception of Kathleen, looked at each other, but every eye was +marked either by indecision or indifference. At length Hanna looked at +her sister, and simply said, “dear Kathleen!” + +“He has done,” replied the latter, in a low voice, “what I had not the +generosity to do--he has defended the absent.” + +“Darling Kathleen,” Hanna whispered, and then pressed her once more to +her heart. “You must have it, Mr. O'Finigan,” said she--“you must have +it, and that immediately;” and as she spoke, she proceeded to a cupboard +from which she produced a large black bottle, filled with that peculiar +liquid to which our worthy pedagogue was so devotedly addicted. + +“Ah,” said he, on receiving a bumper from the fair hand of Hanna, +“let the M'Mahons alone for the old original--indeed I ought to +say--aboriginal hospitality. Thanks, Miss Hanna; in the meantime I will +enunciate a toast, and although we shall not draw very strongly upon +sentiment for the terms, it shall be plain and pithy; here is 'that the +saddle of infamy may be soon placed upon the right horse,' and maybe +there's an individual not a thousand miles from us, and who is besides +not altogether incognizant of the learned languages, including a +tolerably comprehensive circle of mathematics, who will, to a certain +extent, contribute to the consummation of that most desirable event; +here then, I repate, is the toast--'may the saddle of infamy soon be +placed upon the right horse!'” + +Having drunk off the glass, he turned the mouth of it down upon his +corduroy breeches, as an intimation that he might probably find it +necessary to have recourse to it again. + +Hanna observed, or rather we should say, felt, that as Finigan proceeded +with his reminiscences of M'Mahon's school-boy days and the enumeration +of his virtues, her sister's heart and bosom quivered with deep and +almost irrepressible emotion. There was a good deal of enthusiasm in the +man's manner, because he was in earnest, and it was quite evident that +Kathleen's spirit had caught it as he went along, and that her heart +recognized the truth of the picture which he was drawing. We say she +literally felt the quiverings of her sister's heart against her own, +and to do the admirable girl justice, she rejoiced to recognize these +manifestations of returning affection. + +“It was only yesterday,” continued Finigan, resuming the discourse, +“that I met Bryan M'Mahon, and by the way, he has sorrow and distress, +poor fellow, in his face. 'Bryan,' said I, 'is it true that you and +your father's family are preparing to go to that _refugium peccatorum_, +America--that overgrown cupping-glass which is drawing the best blood of +our country out of it?' + +“'The people of Ireland,' he replied, 'have a right to bless God that +there is such a country to fly to, and to resave them from a land +where they're neglected and overlooked. It is true, Mr. O'Finigan,' he +proceeded--!' we have nothing in this country to live for now.' + +“'And so you are preparing?' I asked. + +“'I ought rather say,' he replied, 'that we are prepared; we go in +another month; I only wish we were there already.' + +“'I fear, Bryan,' said I, 'that you have not been well trated of late.' +He looked at me with something like surprise, but said nothing; and in +a quarter, I added, 'that was the last from which you were prepared to +expect justice without mercy.' + +“'I don't understand you,' he replied sharply; 'what do you mean?' + +“'Bryan,' said I, 'I scorn a moral circumbendibus where the direct truth +is necessary; I have heard it said, and I fear it is burthened wid too +much uncomfortable veracity, that Kathleen Cavanagh has donned the black +cap* in doing the judicial upon you, and that she considers her sentence +equal to the laws of the Medes and Persians, unchangeable--or, +like those of our own blessed church--wid reverence be the analogy +made--altogether infallible.' His eye blazed as I spoke; he caught me +where by the collar wid a grip that made me quake--'Another word against +Kathleen Cavanagh,' he replied, 'and I will shake every joint of your +carcass out of its place.' His little sister, Dora, was wid him at the +time; 'Give him a shake or two as it is,' she added, egging him on, 'for +what he has said already;' throth she's a lively little lady that, +an' if it wasn't that she has a pair of dark shining eyes, and sweet +features--ay, and as coaxin' a figure of her own--however, sorra may +care, somehow, I defy any one to, be angry wid her.” + + * Alluding to the practice of putting on the black cap when + the Judge condemns a felon to death. + +“Come, Mr. O'Finigan,” said James, approaching him, “you must have +another glass.” + +“Well no, James,” he replied, “I think not.” + +“Faith, but I say you will; if it was only to hear what Dora--hem--what +Bryan said. + +“Very well,” said the master, allowing him to take the glass which he +received again brimming, “thanks, James.” + +“'Well,' said Bryan, lettin' go my collar, 'blame any one you like; +blame me, blame Vanston, blame Chevydale, Fethertonge, anybody, +everybody, the Priest, the Bishop, the Pope,--but don't dare to blame +Kathleen Cavanagh.' + +“'Why,' said I, 'has she been right in her condemnation of you?' + +“'She has,' he replied, with a warmth of enthusiasm which lit up his +whole features; 'she has done nothing but what was right. She just acted +as she ought, and all I can say is, that I know I'm not worthy of her, +and never was. God bless her!' + +“'And don't let me hear,' said Dora, taking up the dialogue, 'that ever +you'll mention her name wid disrespect--mark that, Mr. O'Finigan, or +it'll be worse for you a thrifle.' + +“Her brother looked on her wid complacent affection, and patting her on +the head, said, 'Come, darling, don't beat him now. You see the risk you +run,' he added, as they went away, 'so don't draw down Dora's vengeance +on your head. She might forgive you an offence against herself; but she +won't forgive you one against Kathleen Cavanagh; and, Mister O'Finigan, +neither will I.'” + +“Masther,” said James Cavanagh, “you'll stop to-night with us?” + +“No, James, I have an engagement of more importance than you could ever +dhrame of, and about--but I'm not free or at liberty to develop the +plot--for plot it is--at any greater length. Many thanks to you in the +mane time for your hospitable intentions; but before I go, I have a word +to say. Now, what do you think of that young man's ginerosity, who would +rather have himself thought guilty than have her thought wrong; for, +whisper,--I say he's not guilty, and maybe--but, no ruatther, time will +tell, and soon tell, too, plaise God.” + +So saying he took up his hat, and politely wished them a pleasant +evening, but firmly refused to taste another drop of liquor, “lest,” + he added, “it might denude him of the necessary qualifications for +accomplishing the enterprise on which he was bint.” + +When he was gone, Kathleen brought her sister to their own room, and +throwing herself on her bosom, she spoke not, but wept calmly and in +silence for about twenty minutes. + +“Kathleen,” said Hanna, “I am glad to see this, and I often wished for +it.” + +“Whisht, dear Hanna,” she replied; “don't speak to me at present. +I'm not fit to talk on that unfortunate subject yet. 'Forgive us our +trespassess as we--we--forgive them that trespass against us!' Oh! +Hanna darling, how have I prayed?” They then rejoined the family. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII.--Harry Clinton's Benevolence Defeated + +--His Uncle's Treachery--The Marriage of Kathleen and Edward Burke +Determined on + + +This partial restoration of M'Mahon to the affections of Kathleen +Cavanagh might have terminated in a full and perfect reconciliation +between them, were it not for circumstances which we are about to +detail. From what our readers know of young Clinton, we need not assure +them that, although wild and fond of pleasure, he was by no means devoid +of either generosity or principle. There were indeed few individuals, +perhaps scarcely any, in the neighborhood, who felt a deeper or +manlier sympathy for the adverse fate and evil repute which had come +so suddenly, and, as he believed in his soul, undeservedly, upon Bryan +M'Mahon. He resolved accordingly to make an effort for the purpose of +setting the unfortunate young man's character right with the public, or +if not with the public, at least in that quarter where such a service +might prove most beneficial to him, we mean in Gerald Cavanagh's family. +Accordingly, one morning after breakfast as his uncle sat reading the +newspaper, he addressed him as follows:-- + +“By the way, uncle, you must excuse mo for asking you a question or +two.” + +“Certainly, Harry. Did I not often desire you never to hesitate asking +me any question you wish? Why should you not?” + +“This, however, may be trenching a little upon the secrets of +your--your--profession.” + +“What is it?--what is it?” + +“You remember the seizure you made some time ago in the townland of +Ahadarra?” + +“I do perfectly well.” + +“Now, uncle, excuse me. Is it fair to ask you if you know the person who +furnished you with information on that subject. Mark, I don't wish nor +desire to know his name; I only ask if you know it?” + +“No, I do not.” + +“Do you not suspect it? It came to you anonymously, did it not?” + +“Why, you are raking me with a fire of cross-examination, Harry; but it +did.” + +“Should you wish to know, uncle?” + +“Undoubtedly, I wish to know those to whom we are indebted for that +fortunate event.” + +“Don't say we, uncle; speak only for yourself.” + +“I should wish to know, though.” + +“Pray have you the letter?” + +“I have: you will find it in one of the upper pigeon holes; I can't +say which; towards the left hand. I placed it there yesterday, as it +turned up among some other communications of a similar stamp.” + +In a few moments his nephew returned, with the precious document in his +hands. + +“Now, uncle,” he proceeded, as he seated himself at the table, “you +admit that this is the letter?” + +“I admit--why, you blockhead, does not the letter itself prove as much?” + +“Well, then, I know the scoundrel who sent you this letter.” + +“I grant you he is a scoundrel, Harry; nobody, I assure you, despises +his tools more than I do, as in general every man does who is forced to +make use of them. Go on.” + +“The man who sent you that letter was Hycy Burke.” + +“Very likely,” replied the cool old Still-Hound; “But I did not think he +would ever place us--” + +“You, sir, if you please.” + +“Very well, me, sir, if you please, under such an important obligation +to him. How do you know, though, that it was he who sent it?” + +His nephew then related the circumstance of his meeting with Nanny +Peety, and the discovery he had made through her of the letter having +been both written and sent by Hycy to the post-office. In order, +besides, to satisfy his relative that the getting up of the still was a +plan concocted by Hycy to ruin M'Mahon, through the, medium of the fine, +he detailed as much of Hycy's former proposal to him as he conveniently +could, without disclosing the part which he himself had undertaken to +perform in this concerted moment. + +“Well, Harry,” replied the old fellow after a pause, “he's a d--d +scoundrel, no doubt; but as his scoundrelism is his own, I don't see why +we should hesitate to avail ourselves of it. With respect, however, to +M'Mahon, I can assure you, that I was informed of his intention to set +up a Still a good while before I made the capture, and not by anonymous +information either. Now, what would you say if both I and Fethertonge +knew the whole plot long before it was put in practice?” + +As he spoke, he screwed his hard keen features into a most knavish +expression. + +“Yes,” he added; “and I can tell you that both the agent and I forwarned +M'Mahon against suffering himself to engage in anything illegal--which +was our duty as his friends you know--hem!” + +“Is that possible?” said his nephew, blushing for this villianous +admission. + +“Quite possible,” replied the other; “however, as I said, I don't see +why we should hesitate to avail ourselves of his villany.” + +“That is precisely what I was about to say, sir,” replied his nephew, +still musing on what he had heard. + +“Right, Harry; the farm is a good thing, or will be so, at least.” + +“The farm, sir! but I did not speak with reference to the farm.” + +“Then with reference to what did you speak?” + +“I meant, sir, that we should not hesitate to avail ourselves of his +villany, in setting M'Mahon right with the public as far as we could.” + +“With the whole public!--whew! Why, my good young man, I thought the +days of giants and windmills had gone by.” + +“Well, sir,” continued the nephew, “at all events there is one thing you +must do for me. I wish you to see old Gerald Cavanagh, and as far as +you can to restore his confidence in the honesty and integrity of young +M'Mahon. State to him that you have reason to know that his son has a +bitter enemy in the neighborhood; that great injustice had been done +to him in many ways, and that you would be glad that a reconciliation +should take place between the families.” + +“And so I am to set out upon the wild goose chase of reconciling a +wench, and a fellow, without knowing why or wherefore.” + +“No, sir--not at all---I will make Cavanough call upon you.” + +“I don't understand this,” replied the uncle, rubbing behind his ear; “I +don't perceive; but pray what interest have you in the matter?” + +“Upon my honor, uncle, none in life, unless an anxiety to serve poor +M'Mahon. The world is down upon him about that vote which, considering +all the circumstances, was more creditable to him than otherwise. I +know, however, that in consequence of the estrangement between him and +Miss Cavanagh, he is bent on emigrating. It is that fact which presses +upon him most. Now will you oblige me in this, uncle?” + +“Let Cavanagh call upon me,” he replied, “and if I can say anything to +soften the old fellow, perhaps I will.” + +“Thank you, uncle--thank you--I shall not forget this kindness.” + +“Well, then,” said his uncle, “I am going down to Fethertonge on a +certain matter of business, you understand, and--let me see--why, if +Cavanagh calls on me tomorrow about eleven, I shall see him at all +events.” + +Young Clinton felt surprised and grieved at what his uncle had just +hinted to him; but on the other hand, he felt considerably elated at the +prospect of being able to bring about a reconciliation between these two +families, and with this excellent motive in view he went to Cavanagh, +with whom he had a private conversation. Having been made aware +by M'Mahon himself of Cavanagh's prejudice against him, and the +predilections of himself and his wife for an alliance into Burke's +family, he merely told him that his uncle would be glad to see him the +next day about eleven o'clock, upon which the other promised to attend +to that gentleman. + +Old Clinton, on his way to Fethertonge's, met that worthy individual +riding into Ballymacan. + +“I was going down to you,” said he; “but where are you bound for?” + +“Into town,” replied the agent; “have you any objection to ride that +way?” + +“None in the world; it is just the same to me. Well, how are matters +proceeding?” + +“Not by any means well,” replied the other, “I begin to feel something +like alarm. I wish we had those M'Mahons out of the country. Vanston +has paid that d--d goose Chevydale a visit, and I fear that unless the +Ahadarra man and his father, and the whole crew of them, soon leave the +country, we shall break down in our object.” + +“Do you tell me so?” said the gauger, starting; “by Jove, it is well I +know this in time.” + +“I don't understand.” + +“Why,” continued. Clinton, “I was about to take a foolish step to-morrow +morning, for the express purpose, I believe, of keeping him, and +probably the whole family in the country.” + +He then detailed the conversation that he had with his nephew, upon +which Fethertonge convinced him that there was more in the wind with +respect to that step, than either he or his nephew, who he assured +him was made a cat's paw of in the business, suspected. “That's a deep +move,” said the agent, “but we shall defeat them, notwithstanding. +Everything, however, depends upon their leaving the country before +Chevydale happens to come at the real state of the case; still, it will +go hard or we shall baffle both him and them yet.” + +Whether Clinton Was sure that the step urged upon him by his nephew was +the result of a generous regard for M'Mahon, or that the former was made +a mere tool for ultimate purposes, in the hands of the Ahadarra man, as +he called him it is not easy to determine. Be this as it may, when +the hour of eleven came the next morning, he was prepared to set his +nephew's generosity aside, and act upon Fethertonge's theory of doing +everything in his power to get the whole connection out of the country, +“Ha,” he exclaimed, “I now understand what Harry meant with respect to +their emigration--'It is that fact which presses upon him most.' Oh ho! +is it so, indeed! Very good, Mr. M'Mahon--we shall act accordingly.” + +Gerald Cavanaugh had been made acquainted by his wife on the day before +with the partial revival of his daughter's affection for Bryan M'Mahon, +as well as with the enthusiastic defense of him made by Finigan, two +circumstances which gave him much concern and anxiety. On his return, +however, from Clinton's, his family observed that there was something of +a satisfactory expression mingled up with a good deal of grave thought +in his face. The truth is, if the worthy man thought for a moment that +the ultimate loss of M'Mahon would have seriously injured her peace +of mind, he would have bitterly regretted it, and perhaps encourage +a reconciliation. This was a result, however, that he could scarcely +comprehend. That she might fret and pine for a few months or so was the +worst he could calculate upon, and of course he took it for granted, +that the moment her affection for one was effaced, another might step +in, without any great risk of disappointment. + +“Well, Gerald,” said his wife, “what did Ganger Clinton want with you?” + +Gerald looked at his two daughters and sighed unconsciously. “It's not +good news,” he proceeded, “in one sense, but it is in another; it's +good news to all my family but that girl sittin' there,” pointing to +Kathleen. + +Unfortunately no evil intelligence could have rendered the unhappy +girl's cheek paler than it was; so that, so far as appearances went, it +was impossible to say what effect this startling communication had upon +her. + +“I was down wid Misther Clinton,” he proceeded; “he hard a report that +there was about to be a makin' up of the differences between Kathleen +there and Bryan, and he sent for me to say, that, for the girl's +sake--who he said was, as he had heard from all quarthers, a +respectable, genteel girl--he couldn't suffer a young man so full of +thraichery and desate, as he had good raisons to know Bryan M'Mahon +was, to impose himself upon her or her family. He cautioned me,” he +proceeded, “and all of us against him; and said that if I allowed a +marriage to take place between him and my daughter, he'd soon bring +disgrace upon her and us, as well as himself. 'You may take my word for +it, Mr. Cavanagh,' says he, 'that is not a thrifle 'ud make me send for +you in sich a business; but, as I happen to know the stuff he is made +of, I couldn't bear to see him take a decent family in so distastefully. +To my own knowledge, Cavanagh,' said he, 'he'd desave a saint, much less +your innocent and unsuspectin' daughter.'” + +“But, father,” said Hanna, “you know there's not a word of truth in that +report; and mayn't all that has been said, or at least some of what has +been said against Bryan, be as much a lie as that? Who on earth: could +sich a report come from?” + +“I axed Mr. Clinton the same question,” said the father, “and it appears +that it came from Bryan himself.” + +“Oh, God forbid!” exclaimed Hanna; “for, if it's a thing that he said +that, he'd say anything.” + +“I don't know,” returned the father, “I only spake it as I hard it, and, +what is more, I believe it--I believe it after what I hard this day; +everybody knows him now--man, woman, an' child, Gheernah! what an escape +that innocent girl had of him!” + +Kathleen rose up, went over to her father, and, placing her hand upon +his shoulder, was about to speak, but she checked herself; and, after +looking at them all, as it were by turns, with a look of distraction and +calm but concentrated agony, she returned again to her seat, but did not +sit down. + +“After all,” she exclaimed, “there has been no new crime brought against +him, not one; but, if I acted wrongly and ungenerously once, I won't +do so again. Hanna, see his sister Dora, say I give him the next three +weeks to clear himself; and, father, listen! if he doesn't do so within +that time, take me, marry me to Edward Burke if you wish--of course +Hycy's out of the question--since you must have it so, for the sooner +I go to my grave the better. There's his last chance, let him take it; +but, in the mean time, listen to me, one and all of you. I cannot bear +this long; there's a dry burning pain about my heart, and a weight upon +it will soon put me out of the reach of disappointment and sorrow. Oh, +Bryan M'Mahon, can you be what is said of you! and, if you can, oh, why +did we ever meet, or why did I ever see you!” + +Her sister Hanna attempted to console her, but for once she failed. +Kathleen would hear no comfort, for she said she stood in need of none. + +“My mind is all dark,” said she, “or rather it is sick of this miserable +work. Why am I fastened upon by such suffering and distraction? Don't +attempt at present to console me, Hanna; I won't, because I can't be +consoled. I wish I knew this man--whether he is honest or not. If he is +the villain they say he is, and that with a false mask upon him, he has +imposed himself on me, and gained my affections by hypocrisy and deceit, +why, Hanna, my darling sister, I could stab him to the heart. To think +that I ever should come to love a villain that could betray his church, +his country, me--and take a bribe; yes, he has done it,” she proceeded, +catching fire from the force of her own detestation of what was wrong. +“Here, Hanna, I call back my words--I give him no further warning than +he has got: he knows the time, the greater part of it is past, and has +he ever made a single attempt to clear himself? No, because he cannot. +I despise him; he is unworthy of me, and I fear he ever was. Here, +father,” she said with vehemence, “listen to me, my dear father; and +you, my mother, beloved mother, hear me! At the expiration of three +weeks I will marry Edward Burke; he is a modest, and I think an +honest young man, who would not betray his religion nor his country, +nor--nor--any unhappy girl that might happen to love him; oh, no, he +would not--and so, after three weeks--I will marry him. Go now and tell +him so--say I said so; and you may rest assured I will not break my +word, although--I may break--break my heart--my heart! Now, Hanna, come +out and walk, dear--come out, and let us chat of other matters; yes, +of other matters; and you can tell me candidly whether you think Bryan +M'Mahon such a villain.” Struck by her own words she paused almost +exhausted, and, bending down, put her face upon her hands, and by a long +persevering effort, at length raised her head, and after a little time +appeared to have regained a good deal of composure; but not without +tears--for she had wept bitterly. + +On that night she told her sister that the last resolution she had come +to was that by which she was determined to abide. + +“You would not have me like a mere girl,” she said, “without the power +of knowing my own mind--no; let what may come I will send no messages +after him--and as sure as I have life I will marry Edward Burke after +the expiration of three weeks, if Bryan doesn't--but it's idle to talk +of it--if he could he would have done it before now. Good-night, dear +Hanna--good-night,” and after many a long and heavy sigh she sank to an +uneasy and troubled slumber. + +The next morning Gerald Cavanagh, who laid great stress upon the +distracted language of his daughter on the preceding night paid an early +visit to his friend, Jemmy Burke. He found the whole family assembled +at breakfast, and after the usual salutations, was asked to join them, +which invitation, however, having already breakfasted, he declined. Hycy +had of late been very much abroad--that is to say he was out very much +at night, and dined very frequently in the head-inn of Ballymacan, +when one would suppose he ought to have dined at home. On the present +occasion he saluted honest Gerald with a politeness peculiarly ironical. + +“Mr. Cavanagh,” said he, “I hope I see you in good health, sir. How +are all the ladies?--Hannah, the neat, and Kathleen--ah, Kathleen, the +divine!” + +“Troth, they're all very well, I thank you, Hycy; and how is yourself?” + +“Free from care, Mr. Cavanagh--a chartered libertine.” + +“A libertine!” exclaimed the honest farmer; “troth I've occasionally +heard as much; but until I heard it from your own lips divil a word of +it I believed.” + +“He is only jesting, Mr. Cavanagh,” said his brother; “he doesn't mean +exactly, nor indeed at all, what you suppose he does.” + +“Does he mean anything at all, Ned?” said his father, dryly, “for of +late it's no aisy matther to understand him.” + +“Well said, Mr. Burke,” replied Hycy; “I am like yourself, becoming +exceedingly oracular of late--but, Mr. Cavanagh, touching this exquisite +union which is contemplated between Adonis and Juno the ox-eyed--does +it still hold good, that, provided always she cannot secure the corrupt +clod-hopper, she will in that ease condescend upon Adonis?” + +“Gerald,” said the father, “as there's none here so handy at the +nonsense as to understand him, the best way is to let him answer +himself.” + +“Begad, Jemmy,” said Cavanagh, “to tell you the truth, I haven't +nonsense enough to answer the last question at any rate; unless he +takes to speakin' common-sense I won't undhertake to hould any further +discourse wid him.” + +“Why will you continue,” said his brother in a low voice, “to render +yourself liable to these strong rebuffs from plain people?” + +“Well said, most vituline--_Solomon secundus_, well said.” + +“Hycy,” said his mother, “you ought to remimber that every one didn't +get the edi cation you did--an' that ignorant people like your father and +Gerald Kavanagh there can't undhercomestand one-half o' what you say. +Sure they know nothing o' book-lamin', and why do you give it them?” + +“Simply to move their metaphysics, Mrs. Burke. They are two of the most +notorious metaphysicians from this to themselves; but they don't possess +your powers of ratiocination, madam?” + +“No,” replied his father; “nayther are we sich judges of horseflesh, +Hycy.” + +Hycy made him a polite bow, and replied, “One would think that joke +is pretty well worn by this time, Mr. Burke. Couldn't you strike out +something original now?” + +“All I can say is,” replied the father, “that the joke has betther +bottom than the garran it was made upon.” + +Edward now arose and left the parlor, evidently annoyed at the empty +ribaldry of his brother, and in a few minutes Hycy mounted his horse and +rode towards Ballymacan. + +It is not our intention here to follow Gerald Cavanagh in the account, +unconsciously one sided as it was, of the consent which he assured them +Kathleen had given, on the night before, to marry their son Edward. +It is sufficient to say, that before they separated, the match was +absolutely made by the two worthies, and everything arranged, with, the +exception of the day of marriage, which they promised to determine on at +their next meeting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV.--Thoughts on Our Country and Our Countrymen + +--Dora and Her Lover. + + +The state of the country, at this period of our narrative, was full +of gloom and depression. Spring had now set in, and the numbers of our +independent and most industrious countrymen that flocked towards our +great seaports were reckoned by many thousands; and this had been the +case for many a season previously. That something was wrong, and that +something is wrong in the country must, alas! be evident from the +myriad's who, whilst they have the means in their hands, are anxious to +get out of it as fast as they can. And yet there is not a country in the +world, a population so affectionately attached to the soil--to the place +of their birth--as the Irish. In fact, the love of their native fields, +their green meadows, the dark mountains, and the glorious torrents that +gush from them, is a passion of which they have in foreign lands +been often known to die. It is called Home Sickness, and we are aware +ourselves of more than one or two cases in which individuals, in a +comparatively early stage of life, have pined away in secret after their +native hills, until the malady becoming known, unfortunately too late, +they sought once more the green fields and valleys among which they had +spent their youth, just in time to lay down their pale cheeks and rest +in their native clay for ever those hearts which absence and separation +from the very soil had broken. + +Now, nothing can be a greater proof of the pressure, the neglect, the +hopelessness of independence or comfort, which the condition of the +people, and the circumstances which occasioned it, have produced, than +the fact that the strong and sacred attachment which we have described +is utterly incapable of attaching them as residents in a country so +indescribably dear to their best affections. People may ask, and do ask, +and will ask, why Ireland is in such a peculiarly distressed state--why +there is always upon its surface a floating mass of pauperism without +parallel in Europe, or perhaps in the world? To this we reply simply +because the duties of property have uniformly been neglected. And in +what, may it be asked, do the duties of property consist? To this we +reply again, in an earnest fixed resolution to promote, in the first +place, the best social and domestic interests of the people, to improve +their condition, to stock their minds with, useful and appropriate +knowledge, to see that they shall be taught what a sense of decent +comfort means, that they shall not rest satisfied with a wad of straw +for a bed, and a meal of potatoes for food, and that they shall, +besides, come to understand the importance of their own position as +members of civil society. Had the landlords of Ireland paid attention +to these and other matters that directly involve their own welfare and +independence, as well as those of their neglected tenantry, they would +not be, as they now are, a class of men, some absolutely bankrupt, and +more on the very eve of it; and all this, to use a commercial phrase +painfully appropriate,--because they neglect their business. + +Who, until lately, ever heard of an Irish landlord having made the +subject of property, or the principles upon which it ought to be +administered, his study? By this we do not mean to say that they did not +occasionally bestow a thought upon their own interests; but, in doing +so, they were guided by erroneous principles that led them to place +these interests in antagonism with those of the people. They forgot +that poverty is the most fertile source of population, and that in every +neglected and ill-regulated state of society, they invariably reproduce +each other; but the landlords kept the people poor, and now they +are surprised, forsooth, at their poverty and the existence of a +superabundant population. + +“We know,” said they, “that the people are poor; but we know also that, +by subsisting merely upon the potato, and excluding better food and a +higher state of comfort, of course the more is left for the landlord.” + This in general was their principle--and its consequences are now upon +themselves. + +This, however, is a subject on which it is not our intention to +expatiate here. What we say is, that, in all the relations of civil +life, Her people were shamefully and criminally neglected. They were +left without education, permitted to remain ignorant of the arts of +life, and of that industrial knowledge on which, or rather on the +application of which, all public prosperity is based. + +And yet, although the people have great errors, without which no people +so long neglected can ever be found, and, although they have been for +centuries familiarized with suffering, yet it is absolute dread of +poverty that drives them from their native soil; They understand, +in fact, the progress of pauperism too well, and are willing to seek +fortune in any clime, rather than abide its approach to themselves--an +approach which they know is in their case inevitable and certain. For +instance, the very class of our countrymen that constitutes the great +bulk of our emigrants is to be found among those independent small +farmers who appear to understand something like comfort. One of these +men holding, say sixteen or eighteen acres, has a family we will suppose +of four sons and three daughters. This family grows up, the eldest son +marries, and the father, having no other way to provide for him, sets +apart three or four acres of his farm, on which he and his wife settle. +The second comes also to marry, and hopes his father won't treat him +worse than he treated his brother. He accordingly gets four acres more, +and settles down as his brother did. In this manner the holding is +frittered away and subdivided among them. For the first few years--that +is, before their children rise--they may struggle tolerably well; but, +at the expiration of twenty or twenty-five years, each brother finds +himself with such a family as his little strip of land cannot adequately +support, setting aside the claims of the landlord altogether; for rent +in these cases is almost out of the question. + +What, then, is the consequence? Why, that here is to be found a +population of paupers squatted upon patches of land quite incapable of +their support; and in seasons of famine and sickness, especially in a +country where labor is below its value, and employment inadequate to the +demand that is for it, this same population becomes a helpless burthen +upon it--a miserable addition to the mass of poverty and destitution +under which it groans. + +Such is the history of one class of emigrants in this unhappy land, +of ours; and what small farmer, with such a destiny as that we have +detailed staring him and his in the face, would not strain every nerve +that he might fly to any country--rather than remain to encounter the +frightful state of suffering which awaits him in this. + +Such, then, is an illustration of the motives which prompt one class +of emigrants to seek their fortune in other climes, while it is yet in +their power to do so. There is still a higher class, however, consisting +of strong farmers possessed of some property and wealth, who, on looking +around them, find that the mass of destitution which is so rapidly +increasing in every direction must necessarily press upon them in time, +and ultimately drag them down to its own level. But even if the naked +evils which pervade society among us were not capable of driving these +independent yeomen to other lands, we can assure our legislators +that what these circumstances, appalling as they are, may fail in +accomplishing, the recent act for the extra relief of able-bodied +paupers will complete--an act which, instead of being termed a Relief +Act, ought to be called an act for the ruin of the country, and the +confiscation of its property, both of which, if not repealed, it will +ultimately accomplish. We need not mention here cases of individual +neglect or injustice upon the part of landlords and agents, inasmuch as +we have partially founded our narrative upon a fact of this description. + +It has been said, we know, and in many instances with truth, that the +Irish are a negligent and careless people--without that perseverance and +enterprise for which their neighbors on the other side of the channel +are so remarkable. We are not, in point of fact, about to dispute the +justice of this charge; but, if it be true of the people, it is only so +indirectly. It is true of their condition and social circumstances in +this country, rather than of any constitutional deficiency in either +energy or industry that is inherent in their character. In their own +country they have not adequate motive for action--no guarantee that +industry shall secure them independence, or that the fruits of their +labor may not pass, at the will of; their landlords, into other hands. +Many, therefore, of the general imputations that are brought against +them in these respects, ought to be transferred rather to the depressing +circumstances in which they are placed than to the people themselves. +As a proof of; this, we have only to reflect upon their industry, +enterprise, and success, when relieved from the pressure of these +circumstances in other countries--especially in America, where exertion +and industry never, or at least seldom, fail to arrive at comfort and +independence. Make, then, the position of the Irishman reasonable--such, +for instance, as it is in any other country but his own--and he can +stand the test of comparison with any man. + +Not only, however, are the Irish flying from the evils that are to come, +but they feel a most affectionate anxiety to enable all those who are +bound to them by the ties of kindred and domestic affection to imitate +their example. There is not probably to be found in records of human +attachment such a beautiful history of unforgotten affection, as that +presented by the heroic devotion of Irish emigrants to those of their +kindred who remain here from inability to accompany them.* + + *The following extract, from a very sensible pamphlet by + Mr. Murray, is so appropriate to this subject, that we cannot + deny ourselves the pleasure of quoting it here:-- + + “You have been accustomed to grapple with and master + figures, whether as representing the produce of former + tariffs, or in constructing new ones, or in showing the + income and expenditure of the greatest nation on the earth. + Those now about to be presented to you, as an appendix to + this communication, are small, very small, in their separate + amounts, and not by any means in the aggregate of the + magnitude of the sums you have been accustomed to deal with; + but they are large separately, and heaving large in the + aggregate, in all that is connected with the higher and + nobler parts of our nature--in all that relates to and + evinces the feelings of the heart towards those who are of + our kindred, no matter by what waters placed asunder or by + what distance separated. They are large, powerfully large, + in reading lessons of instruction to the statesman and + philanthropist, in dealing with a warm-hearted people for + their good, and placing them in a position of comparative + comfort to that in which they now are. The figures represent + the particulars of 7,917 separate Bills of Exchange, varying + in amount from £1 to £10 each--a few exceeding the latter + sum; so many separate offerings from the natives of Ireland + who have heretofore emigrated from its shores, sent to their + relations and friends in Ireland, drawn and paid between the + 1st of January and the 15th of December, 1846--not quite one + year; and amount in all to £41,261 9s. 11d. But this list, + long though it be, does not measure the number and amount of + such interesting offerings. It contains only about one-third + part of the whole number and value of such remittances that + have crossed the Atlantic to Ireland during the 349 days of + 1846. The data from which this list is complied enable the + writer to estimate with confidence the number and amount + drawn otherwise; and he calculates that the entire number, + for not quite one year, of such Bills, is £24,000, and the + amount £125,000, or, on an average, £5 4s. 3d. each. They + are sent from husband to wife, from father to child, from + child to father, mother, and grand-parents, from sister to + brother, and the reverse; and from and to those united by + all the ties of blood and friendship that bind us together + on earth. + + In the list, you will observe that these offerings of + affection are classed according to the parts of Ireland they + are drawn upon, and you will find that they are not confined + to one spot of it, but are general as regards the whole + country.”--_Ireland. its Present Condition and Future + Prospects, In n letter addressed to the Right Honorable Sir + Robert Peel, Baronet, by Robert Murray. Esq. Dublin, James + M'Olashan, 21 D'Olier Street, 1847_. + +Let it not be said, then, that the Irishman is deficient in any of the +moral elements or natural qualities which go to the formation of such +a character as might be made honorable to himself and beneficial to the +country. By the success of his exertions in a foreign land, it is clear +that he is not without industry, enterprise, and perseverance; and we +have no hesitation in saying that, if he were supplied at home with due +encouragement and adequate motive, his good qualities could be developed +with as much zeal, energy, and success as ever characterized them in a +foreign country. + +We trust the reader may understand what the condition of the country, at +the period of our narrative to which we refer, must have been, when such +multitudes as we have described rushed to our great seaports in order to +emigrate; the worst feature in this annual movement being that, whilst +the decent, the industrious, and the moral, all influenced by creditable +motives, went to seek independence in a distant land, the idle, the +ignorant, and the destitute necessarily remain at home--all as a +burthen, and too many of them as a disgrace to the country. + +Our friends the M'Mahons, urged by motives at once so strong and +painful, were not capable of resisting the contagion of emigration +which, under the circumstances we have detailed, was so rife among +the people. It was, however, on their part a distressing and mournful +resolve. From the, moment it was made, a gloom settled upon the +whole family. Nothing a few months before had been farther from their +thoughts; but now there existed such a combination of arguments for +their departure, as influenced Bryan and his father, in spite of their +hereditary attachment to Ahadarra and Carriglass. Between them and the +Cavanaghs, ever since Gerald had delivered Kathleen's message to Bryan, +there was scarcely any intercourse. Hanna, 'tis true, and Dora had an +opportunity of exchanging a few words occasionally, but although the +former felt much anxiety for a somewhat lengthened and if possible +confidential conversation with her sparkling little friend, yet the +latter kept proudly if not haughtily silent on one particular subject, +feeling as she did, that anything like a concession on her part was +humiliating, and might be misconstrued into a disposition to compromise +the independence of her brother and family. But even poor Dora, +notwithstanding her affectionate heart and high spirit, had her own +sorrows to contend with, sorrows known only to her brother Bryan, who +felt disposed to befriend her in them as far as he could. So indeed +would every one of the family, had they known them, for we need scarcely +say that the warm and generous girl was the centre in which all their +affections met. And this indeed was only justice to her, inasmuch as she +was willing on any occasion to sacrifice her interests, her wishes, or +anything connected with her own welfare, to their individual or general +happiness. We have said, however, that she had her own sorrows, and +this was true. From the moment she felt assured that their emigration +to America was certain, she manifested a depression so profound and +melancholy, that the heart of her brother Bryan, who alone knew its +cause, bled for her. This by the rest of the family was imputed to the +natural regret she felt, in common with themselves, at leaving the old +places for ever, with this difference to be sure--they imagined that she +felt the separation more acutely than they did. Still, as the period +for their departure approached, there was not one of the family, +notwithstanding what she felt herself, who labored so incessantly to +soothe and sustain the spirits of her father, who was fast sinking under +the prospect of being “forever removed,” as he said, “from the places +his heart had grown into.” She was in fact the general consoler of the +family, and yet her eye scarcely ever met that of her brother that a +tear did not tremble in it, and she felt disposed to burst out into an +agony of unrestrained grief. + +It was one evening in the week previous to their departure, that she +was on her return from Ballymacan, when on passing a bend of the road +between Carriglass and Fenton's farm, she met the cause of the sorrow +which oppressed her, in the handsome person of James Cavanaugh, to +whom she had been for more than a year and a half deeply and devotedly +attached, but without the knowledge of any individual living, save her +lover himself and her brother Bryan. + +On seeing him she naturally started, but it was a start of pleasure, and +she felt her cheek flush and again get pale, and her heart palpitated, +then was still a moment, and again resumed its tumultuous pulsations. + +“Blessed be God, my darlin' Dora, that I've met you at last,” said +James; “in heaven's name how did it happen that we haven't met for such +a length of time?” + +“I'm sure that's more than I can tell,” replied Dora, “or rather it's +what both, you and I know the cause of too well.” + +“Ah, poor Dora,” he exclaimed, “for your sake I don't wish to spake +about it at all; it left me many a sore heart when I thought of you.” + +Dora's natural pale cheek mantled, and her eyes deepened with a +beautiful severity, as she hastily turned them on him and said, “what do +you mane, James?” + +“About poor Bryan's conduct at the election,” he replied, “and that +fifty-pound note; and may hell consume it and him that tempted him with +it!” + +“Do you forget,” she said, “that you're spaking to his sister that knows +the falsehood of it all; an' how dare you in my presence attempt to say +or think that Bryan M'Mahon would or could do a mane or dishonest act? +I'm afeard, James, there's a kind of low suspicion in your family that's +not right, and I have my reasons for thinking so. I fear there's a want +of true generosity among you; and if I could be sure of it, I tell you +now, that whatever it might cost me, I'd never--but what am I sayin'? +that's past.” + +“Past! oh, why do you spake that way, Dora dear?” + +“It's no matter what I may suffer myself,” she replied; “no matter at +all about that; but wanst and for all, I tell you that let what may +happen, I'm not the girl to go into a family that have treated my dear +brother as yours has done. Your sister's conduct has been very harsh and +cruel to the man she was to be married to.” + +“My sister, Dora, never did anything but what was right.” + +“Well, then, let her go and marry the Pope, with reverence be it spoken, +for I don't know any other husband that's fit for her. I'd like to see +the girl that never did anything wrong; it's a sight I never saw yet, I +know.” + +“Dora, dear,” replied her lover, “I don't blame you for being angry. I +know that such a load of disgrace upon any family is enough to put one +past their temper. I don't care about that, however,” he proceeded; “if +he had betrayed his church and his country ten times over, an' got five +hundred pounds instead of fifty, it wouldn't prevent me from makin' you +my wife.” + +Her eyes almost emitted fire at this unconsciously offensive language +of Cavanagh. She calmed herself, however, and assumed a manner that was +cool and cuttingly ironical. + +“Wouldn't you, indeed?” she replied; “dear me! I have a right to be +proud of that; and so you'd be mane enough to marry into a family +blackened by disgrace. I thought you had some decent pride, James.” + +“But you have done nothing wrong, Dora,” he replied; “'you're free from +any blame of that kind.” + +“I have done nothing wrong, haven't I?” she returned. “Ay, a thousand +things--for, thank God, I'm not infallible like your sister. Haven't I +supported my brother in every thing he did? and I tell you that if I had +been in his place I'd just 'a' done what he did. What do you think o' me +now?” + +“Why, that every word you say, and every lively look--ay, or angry if +you like--that you give--makes me love you more and more. An' plase God, +my dear Dora, I hope soon to see you my own darlin' wife.” + +“That's by no means a certain affair, James; an' don't rely upon it. +Before ever I become your wife Kathleen must change her conduct to my +brother.” + +“'Deed and I'm afraid that shell never do, Dora.” + +“Then the sorra ring ever I'll put on you while there's, breath in my +body.” + +“Why, didn't she give him three months to clear himself?” + +“Did she, indeed? And do you think that any young man of spirit would +pay attention to such a stilted pride as that? It was her business to +send for him face to face, and to say--'Bryan M'Mahon, I never knew you +or one of your family to tell a lie or do a dishonest or disgraceful +act'--and here as she spoke the tears of that ancient integrity and +hereditary pride which are more precious relics in a family than +the costliest jewels that ever sparkled in the sun, sprang from her +eyes--'and now, Bryan M'Mahon, I ax no man's word but your own--I ax no +other evidence but your own--I put it to your conscience--to that honor +that has never yet been tarnished by any of your family, I say I put it +to yourself, here face to face with the girl that loves you--and answer +me as you are in the presence of God--did you do what they charge you +with? Did you do wrong knowingly and deliberately, and against your own +conscience?” + +The animated sparkle of her face was so delightful and fascinating that +her lover attempted to press her to his bosom; but she would not suffer +it. + +“Behave now,” she said firmly; “sorra bit--no,” she proceeded; “and +whilst all the world was against him, runnin' him down and blackenin' +him--was she ever the girl to stand up behind his back and defend him +like a--hem--defend him, I say, as a girl that loved him ought, and a +generous-girl would?” + +“But how could she when she believed, him to be wrong?” + +“Why did she believe him to be wrong upon mere hearsay? and granting +that he was wrong! do you think now if you had done what they say he did +(and they lie that say it), an' that I heard the world down on you for +your first slip, do you think, I say, that I'd not defend you out of +clane contrariness,--and to vex them--ay, would I.” + +“I know, darlin', that you'd do everything that's generous an' right; +but settin' that affair aside, my dear Dora, what are you and I to do?” + +“I don't know what we're to do,” she replied; “it's useless for you to +ax me from my father now; for he wouldn't give me to you,--sorra bit.” + +“But you'll give me yourself, Dora, darling.” + +“Not without his consent, no nor with it,--as the families stand this +moment; for I tell you again that the sorra ring ever I'll put on you +till your sister sends for my brother, axes his pardon, and makes up +with him, as she ought to do. Oh why, James dear, should she be so harsh +upon him,” she said, softening at once; “she that is so good an' so +faultless afther all? but I suppose that's the raison of it--she doesn't +know what it is to do anything that's not right.” + +“Dora,” said her lover, “don't be harsh on Kathleen; you don't know what +she's sufferin'. Dora, her heart's broke--broke.” + +The tears were already upon Dora's cheeks, and her lover, too, was +silent for a moment. + +“She has,” resumed the warm-hearted girl, “neither brother nor sister +that loves her, or can love her, better than I do, afther all.” + +“But in our case, darling, what's to be done?” he asked, drawing her +gently towards him. + +“I'll tell you then what I'd recommend you to do,” she replied; “spake +to my brother Bryan, and be guided by him. I must go now, it's quite +dusk.” + +There was a moment's pause, then a gentle remonstrance on the part of +Dora, followed, however, by that soft sound which proceeds from the +pressure of youthful lips--after which she bade her lover a hasty +good-night and hurried home. + + +[Illustration: PAGE 623-- I must leave you--I must go] + + + + +CHAPTER XXV.--The Old Places--Death of a Patriarch. + + +As the day appointed for the auction of the M'Mahon's stock, furniture, +etc., etc., at Carriglass drew near, a spirit of deep and unceasing +distress settled upon the whole family. It had not been their purpose to +apprise the old man of any intention on their part to emigrate at all, +and neither indeed had they done so. The fact, however, reached him from +the neighbors, several of whom, ignorant that it was the wish of his +family to conceal the circumstance from him--at least as long as they +could--entered into conversation with him upon it, and by this means +he became acquainted with their determination. Age, within the last +few months--for he was now past ninety--had made sad work with both his +frame and intellect. Indeed, for some time past, he might be said +to hover between reason and dotage. Decrepitude had set in with such +ravages on his constitution that it could almost be marked by daily +stages. Sometimes he talked with singular good sense and feeling; but +on other occasions he either babbled quite heedlessly, or his intellect +would wander back to scenes and incidents of earlier life, many of which +he detailed with a pathos that was created and made touching by the +unconsciousness of his own state while relating them. They also observed +that of late he began to manifest a child-like cunning in many things +connected with himself and family, which, though amusing from its very +simplicity, afforded at the same time a certain indication that the +good old grandfather whom they all loved so well, and whose benignant +character had been only mellowed by age into a more plastic affection +for them all, was soon to be removed from before their eyes, never again +to diffuse among them that charm of domestic truth and love, and the +holy influences of all those fine old virtues which ancestral integrity +sheds over the heart, and transmits pure and untarnished from generation +to generation. + +On the day he made the discovery of their intention, he had been sitting +on a bench in the garden, a favorite seat of his for many a long year +previously; “And so,” said he to the neighbor with whom he had been +speaking, “you tell me that all our family is goin' to America?” + +“Why, dear me,” replied his acquaintance, “is it possible you didn't +know it?” + +“Ha!” he exclaimed, “I undherstand now why they used to be whisperin' +together so often, and lookin' at me; but indeed they might spake loud +enough now, for I'm so deaf that I can hardly hear anything. Howaniver, +Ned, listen--they all intend to go, you say; now listen, I say--I know +one that won't go; now, do you hear that? You needn't say anything about +it, but this I tell you--listen to me, what's your name? Barney, is it?” + +“Why, is it possible, you don't know Ned Gormley?” + +“Ay, Ned Gormley--och, so it is. Well listen, Ned--there's one they +won't bring; I can tell you that--the sorra foot I'll go to--to--where's +this you say they're goin' to, Jemmy?” + +Gormley shook his head. “Poor Bryan,” said he, “it's nearly all over wid +you, at any rate. To America, Bryan,” he repeated, in a loud voice. + +“Ay, to America. Well, the sorra foot ever I'll go to America--that one +thing I can tell them. I'm goin' in. Oh! never mind,” he exclaimed, +on Gormley offering him assistance, “I'm stout enough still; stout an' +active still; as soople as a two-year ould, thank God. Don't I bear up +wonderfully?” + +“Well, indeed you do, Bryan; it is wonderful, sure enough.” + +In a few minutes they arrived at the door; and the old man, recovering +as it were a portion of his former intellect, said, “lavin' this +place--these houses--an' goin' away--far, far away--to a strange +country--to strange people! an' to bring me, the ould white-haired +grandfather, away from all! that would be cruel; but my son Tom will +never do it.” + +“Well, at any rate, Bryan,” said his neighbor, “whether you go or stay, +God be wid you. It's a pity, God knows, that the like of you and your +family should leave the country; and sure if the landlord, as they say, +is angry about it, why doesn't he do what he ought to do? an' why does +he allow that smooth-tongued rap to lead him by the nose as he does? +Howandiver, as I said, whether you go or stay, Bryan, God be wid you!” + +During all that morning Thomas M'Mahon had been evidently suffering very +deeply from a contemplation of the change that was about to take place +by the departure of himself and his family from Carriglass. He had been +silent the greater part of the morning, and not unfrequently forced to +give away to tears, in which he was joined by his daughters, with the +exception of Dora, who, having assumed the office of comforter, felt +herself bound to maintain the appearance of a firmness which she did +not feel. In this mood he was when “grandfather,” as they called him, +entered the house, after having been made acquainted with their secret. +“Tom,” said he, approaching his son, “sure you wouldn't go to bring an +ould man away?” + +“Where to, father?” asked the other, a good deal alarmed. + +“Why, to America, where you're all goin' to. Oh! surely you wouldn't +bring the old man away from the green fields of Carriglass? Would you +lay my white head in a strange land, an' among a strange people? Would +you take poor ould grandfather away from them that expects him down, at +Carndhu where they sleep? Carndhu's a holy churchyard. Sure there never +was a Protestant buried in it but one, an' the next mornin' there was a +boortree bush growin' out o' the grave, an' it's there yet to prove the +maricle. Oh! ay, Carndhu's holy ground, an' that's where I must sleep.” + +These words were uttered with a tone of such earnest and childlike +entreaty as rendered them affecting in a most extraordinary degree, and +doubly so to those who heard him. Thomas's eyes, despite of every effort +to the contrary, filled with tears. “Ah!” he exclaimed, “he has found it +out at last; but how can I give him consolation, an' I stands in need of +it so much myself?” + +“Father,” said he, rising and placing the old man in the arm-chair, +which for the last half century had been his accustomed seat, “father, +we will go together--we will all be wid you. You'll not be among +strangers--you'll have your own about you still.” + +“But what's takin' you all away?” + +“Neglect and injustice, an' the evil tongues of them that ought to know +us betther. The landlord didn't turn out to be what he ought to be. May +God forgive him! But at any rate I'm sure he has been misled.” + +“Ould Chevydale,” said his father, “never was a bad landlord, an' he'd +not become a bad one now. That's not it.” + +“But the ould man's dead, father, an' its his son we're spakin' of.” + +“And the son of ould Chevydale must have something good about him. The +heart was always right wid his father, and every one knows there's a +great deal in true blood. Sooner or later it'll tell for itself--but +what is this? There was something troublin' me this minute. Oh! ay, +you're goin' away, then, to America; but, mark my words:--I won't go. +You may, but I'll stay here. I won't lave the green fields of Carriglass +for any one. It's not much I'll be among them now, an' it isn't worth +your while to take me from them. Here's where I was born--here's where +the limbs that's now stiff an' feeble was wanst young and active--here's +where the hair that's white as snow was fair an' curlin' like +goold--here's where I was young--here's where I grew ould--among these +dark hills and green fields--here you all know is where I was born; and, +in spite o' you all, here's where I'll die.” + +The old man was much moved by all these recollections; for, as he +proceeded, the tears fell fast from his aged eyes, and his voice became +tremulous and full of 'sorrow. + +“Wasn't it here, too,” he proceeded, “that Peggy Slevin, she that was +famed far an' near for her beauty, and that the sweet song was made +upon--'Peggy Na Laveen'---ay--ay, you may think yourselves fine an' +handsome; but, where was there sich a couple as grandfather and Peggy Na +Laveen was then?” + +As he uttered these words, his features that had been impressed by +grief, were lit up by a smile of that simple and harmless vanity which +often attends us to the very grave; after which he proceeded:-- + +“There, on the side of that hill is the roofless house where she was +born; an' there's not a field or hill about the place that her feet +didn't make holy to me. I remember her well. I see her, an' I think I +hear her voice on the top of Lisbane, ringin' sweetly across the valley +of the Mountain Wather, as I often did. An' is it to take me away now +from all this? Oh! no, childre', the white-haired grandfather couldn't +go. He couldn't lave the ould places--the ould places. If he did, he'd +die--he'd die. Oh, don't, for God's sake, Tom, as you love me!” + +There was a spirit of helpless entreaty in these last words that touched +his son, and indeed all who heard him, to the quick. + +“Grandfather dear, be quiet,” he replied; “God will direct all things +for the best. Don't cry,” he added, for the old man was crying like an +infant; “don't cry, but be quiet, and everything will be well in time. +It's a great trial, I know; but any change is better than to remain +here till we come, like so many others, to beggary. God will support us, +father.” + +The old man wiped his eyes, and seemed as if he had taken comfort +from the words of his son; whereas, the fact was, that his mind had +altogether passed from the subject; but not without that unconscious +feeling of pain which frequently remains after the recollection of that +which has occasioned it has passed away. + +It was evident, from the manner of the old man, that the knowledge +of their intended emigration had alarmed into action all the dormant +instincts of his nature; but this was clearly more than they were +competent to sustain for any length of time. Neither the tottering +frame, nor the feeble mind was strong enough to meet the shock +which came so unexpectedly upon them. The consequence may be easily +anticipated. On the following day he was able to be up only for an hour; +yet he was not sick, nor did he complain of any particular pain. His +only malady appeared to consist in that last and general prostration of +bodily and intellectual strength, by which persons of extreme old age, +who have enjoyed uninterrupted health, are affected at, or immediately +preceding their dissolution. His mind, however, though wandering and +unsteady, was vigorous in such manifestations as it made. For instance, +it seemed to be impressed by a twofold influence,--the memory of his +early life,--mingled with a vague perception of present anxiety, the +cause of which he occasionally was able to remember, but as often tried +to recollect in vain. + +On the second day after his discovery he was unable to rise at all; but, +as before, he complained of nothing, neither were his spirits depressed. +On the contrary they were rather agitated--sometimes into cheerfulness, +but more frequently into an expression of sorrow and lamentation, which +were, however, blended with old by-gone memories that were peculiarly +reflecting to those who heard them. In this way he went on, sinking +gradually until the day previous to the auction. On that morning, to +their surprise, he appeared to have absolutely regained new strength, +and to have been gifted with something like renovated power of speech. + +“I want to get up,” said he, “and it's only Tom an' Dora that I'll allow +to help me. You're all good, an' wor always good to grandfather, but Tom +was my best son, and signs on it--everything thruv wid him, an' God will +prosper an' bless him. Where's Dora?” + +“Here, grandfather.” + +“Ay, that's the voice above all o' them that went like music to my +heart; but well I know, and always did, who you have that voice from; +ay, an' I know whose eyes--an' it's them that's the lovely eyes--Dora +has. Isn't the day fine, Dora?” + +“It is, grandfather, a beautiful day.” + +“Ay, thank God. Well then I want to go out till I look--take one look at +the ould places; for somehow I think my heart was never so much in them +as now.” + +It is impossible to say how or why the feeling prevailed, but the fact +was, that the whole family were impressed with a conviction that this +partial and sudden restoration of his powers was merely what is termed +the lightening before death, and the consequence was, that every word he +spoke occasioned their grief, for the loss of the venerable and virtuous +patriarch, to break out with greater force. When he was dressed he +called Dora to aid her father in bringing him out, which she did with +streaming eyes and sobbings that she could scarcely restrain. After +having reached a little green eminence that commanded a glorious view of +the rich country beneath and around them, he called for his chair; “an', +Bryan,” said he, “the manly and honest-hearted, do you bring it to me. +A blessin' will follow you, Bryan--a blessin' will follow my manly +grandson, that I often had a proud heart out of. An'; Bryan,” he +proceeded, when the latter had returned with the chair and placed him +in it, “listen, Bryan--when you and Kathleen Cavanagh's married--but I +needn't say it--where was there one of your name to do an unmanly thing +in that respect?--but when you and Kathleen's married, be to her as your +own father was to her that's gone--ever and always kind and lovin', +an' what your grandfather that's now spaking to you, maybe for the last +time, was to her that's long, long an angel in heaven--my own Peggy +Slevin--but it's the Irish sound of it I like--Peggy Na Laveen. Bring +them all out here--but what is this?--why are you all cryin'? Sure; +there's nothing wrong--an' why do you cry?” + +The other members of the family then assembled with tearful faces, and +the good old man proceeded:-- + +“Thomas M'Mahon, stand before me.” The latter, with uncovered head, did +so; and his father resumed:--“Thomas M'Mahon, you're the only livin' son +I have, an' I'm now makin' my Will. I lave this farm of Carriglass to +you, while you live, wid all that's on it and in it;--that is, that I +have any right to lave you--I lave it to you wid my blessin', and may +God grant you long life and health to enjoy it. Ahadarra isn't mine to +give, but, Bryan, it's your's; an' as I said to your father, God grant +you health and long life to enjoy it, as he will to both o' you.” + +“Oh! little you know, grandfather dear,” replied Shibby, “that we've +done wid both of them for ever.” + +“Shibby, God bless you, achora,” he returned; “but the ould man's lips +can spake nothing now but the truth; an' my blessin' an' my wish, comin' +from the Almighty as they do, won't pass away like common words.” He +then paused for a few minutes, but appeared to take a comprehensive view +of the surrounding country. + +“But, grandfather,” proceeded simple-hearted Shibby, “sure the match +between Bryan and Kathleen Cavanagh is broken up, an' they're not to be +married at all.” + +“Don't I say, darlin', that they will be married, an' be happy--ay, +an' may God make them happy! as He will, blessed be His holy name! God, +acushla, can bring about everything in His own good way.” + +After another pause of some minutes he murmured to himself--“Peggy Na +Laveen--Peggy Na Laveen--how far that name has gone! Turn me round a +little. What brought us here, childre'? Oh! ay--I wanted to see the ould +places--there's Claghleim, where the walls of the house she was born +in, and the green garden, is both to the fore; yet I hope they won't be +disturbed, if it was only for the sake of them that's gone; an' there's +the rock on the top of Lisbane,where, in the summer evening, long, long +ago, I used to sit an' listen to Peggy Na Laveen singin' over our holy +songs--the darlin' ould songs of the counthry. Oh! clear an' sweet they +used to ring across the glen of the Mountain Wather. An' there's the +hills an' the fields where she an' I so often sported when we wor both +young; there they are, an' many a happy day we had on them; but sure God +was good to us, blessed be His name, as He ever will be to them that's +obadient to His holy will!” + +As he uttered the last words he clasped his two hands together, and, +having closed his eyes, he muttered something internally which they +could not understand. “Now,” said he, “bring me in again; I have got my +last look at them all--the ould places, the brave ould places! oh, who +would lave them for any other country? But at any rate, Tom, achora, +don't take me away from them; sure you wouldn't part me from the green +fields of Carriglass? Sure you'd not take me from the blessed graveyard +of Carndhu, where we all sleep. I couldn't rest in a sthrange grave, +nor among strange people; I couldn't rest, barrin' I'm wid her, Peggy Na +Laveen.” These words he uttered after his return into the house. + +“Grandfather,” said Bryan, “make your mind aisy; we won't take you +from the brave ould places, and you will sleep in Carndhu with Peggy Na +Laveen; make your heart and mind easy, then, for you won't be parted.” + +He turned his eyes upon the speaker, and a gleam of exultation and +delight settled upon his worn but venerable features; nor did it wholly +pass away, for, although his chin sank upon his breast, yet the placid +expression remained. On raising his head they perceived that this fine +and patriarchal representative of the truthful integrity and simple +manners of a bygone class had passed into a life where neither age +nor care can oppress the spirit, and from whose enjoyment no fear of +separation can ever disturb it. + +It is unnecessary to describe the sorrow which they felt. It must be +sufficient to say that seldom has grief for one so far advanced in +years been so sincere and deep. Age, joined to the knowledge of his +affectionate heart and many virtues, had encircled him with a halo of +love and pious veneration which caused his disappearance from among them +to be felt, as if a lamb of simple piety and unsullied truth had been +removed from their path for ever. + +That, indeed, was a busy and a melancholy day with the M'Mahons; for, +in addition to the death of the old grandfather, they were obliged to +receive farewell visits to no end from their relations, neighbors, and +acquaintances. Indeed it would be difficult to find a family in a state +of greater distress and sorrow. The auction, of course, was postponed +for a week--that is, until after the old man's funeral--and the +consequence was that circumstances, affecting the fate of our _dramatis +personae_ had time to be developed, which would otherwise have occurred +too late to be available for the purposes of our narrative. This renders +it necessary that we should return to a period in it somewhat anterior +to that at which we have now arrived. + + + + +CHAPTEE XXVI.--Containing a Variety of Matters. + +Our readers cannot have forgotten the angry dialogue which Kate Hogan +and her male relations indulged in upon the misunderstanding that had +occurred between the Cavanaghs and M'Mahons, and its imputed cause. +We stated at the time that Hycy Burke and the Hogans, together with a +strange man and woman, were embarked in some mysterious proceedings from +which both Kate Hogan and Teddy Phats had been excluded. For some time, +both before and after that night, there had been, on the other hand, +a good, deal of mysterious communication between several of our other +characters. For instance Kate Hogan and Nanny Peety had had frequent +interviews, to which, in the course of time, old Peety, Teddy Phats, +and, after him, our friend the schoolmaster had been admitted. Nanny +Peety had also called on Father Magowan, and, after him, upon young +Clinton; and it was evident, from the result of her disclosures to the +two latter, that they also took a warm interest, and were admitted to a +participation in, the councils we mention. To these proceedings Clinton +had not been long privy when he began to communicate with Vanston, who, +on his part, extended the mystery to Chevydale, between whom and himself +several confidential interviews had already taken place. Having thrown +out these hints to our readers, we beg them to accompany us once more to +the parlor of Clinton the gauger and his nephew. + +“So, uncle, now that you have been promoted to the Supervisorship, you +abandon the farm; you abandon Ahadarra?” + +“Why, won't I be out of the district, you blockhead? and you persist in +refusing it besides.” + +“Most positively; but I always suspected that Fethertonge was a +scoundrel, as his conduct in that very business with you was a +proo--hem, ahem.” + +“Go on,” said the uncle, coolly, “don't be ashamed, Harry; I was nearly +as great a scoundrel in that business as he was. I told you before that +I look upon the world as one great pigeon, which every man who can, +without exposing, himself, is obliged to pluck. Now, in the matter of +the farm, I only was about to pluck out a feather or two to put in my +own nest--or yours, if you had stood it.” + +“At any rate, uncle, I must admit that you are exceedingly candid.” + +“No such thing, you fool; there is scarcely an atom of candor in my +whole composition--I mean to the world, whatever I may be to you. +Candor, Harry, my boy, is a virtue which very few in this life, as it +goes, can afford to practice--at least I never could.” + +“Well but, uncle, is it not a pity to see that honest family ruined and +driven out of the country by the villany of Burke on the one hand, +and the deliberate fraud and corruption of Fethertonge, on the +other. However, now that you are resolved to unmask Fethertonge, I am +satisfied. It's a proof that you don't wish to see an honest family +oppressed and turned, without reasonable compensation, out of their +property.” + +“It's a proof of no such thing, I tell you. I don't care the devil had +the M'Mahons; but I am bound to this ninnyhammer of a landlord, who has +got me promoted, and who promises, besides, to get an appointment for +you. I cannot see him, I say, fleeced and plucked by this knavish agent, +who winds him about his finger like a thread; and, as to those poor +honest devils of M'Mahons, stop just a moment and I will show you a +document that may be of some value to them. You see, Fethertonge, in +order to enhance the value of his generosity to myself, or, to come +nearer the truth, the value of Ahadarra, was the means of placing a +document, which I will immediately show you, in my hands.” + +He went to his office or study, and, after some search, returned +and handed the other a written promise of the leases of Ahadarra and +Carriglass, respectively, to Thomas M'Mahon and his son Bryan, at a +certain reasonable rent offered by each for their separate holdings. + +“Now,” he proceeded, “there's a document which proves Fethertonge, +notwithstanding his knavery, to be an ass; otherwise he would have +reduced it to ashes long ago; and, perhaps, after having turned it to +his account, he would have done so, were it not that I secured it. Old +Chevydale, it appears, not satisfied with giving his bare word, strove, +the day before he died, to reduce his promise about the lease to +writing, which he did, and entrusted it to the agent for the M'Mahons, +to whom, of course, it was never given.” + +“But what claim had you to it, uncle?” + +“Simply, if he and I should ever come to a misunderstanding, that I +might let him know he was in my power, by exposing his straightforward +methods of business; that's all. However, about the web that this fellow +Burke has thrown around these unfortunate devils the M'Mahons, and those +other mighty matters that you told of, let me hear exactly what it is +all about and how they stand. You say there is likely to be hanging or +transportation among them.” + +“Why, the circumstances, sir, are these, as nearly as I am in possession +of them:--There is or was, at least a day or two ago, a very pretty +girl--” + +“Ay, ay--no fear but there must be that in it; go along.” + +“A very pretty girl, named Nanny Peety, a servant in old Jemmy Burke's, +Hycy's father. It appears that his virtuous son Hycy tried all the +various stratagems of which he is master to debauch the morals of this +girl, but without success. Her virtue was incorruptible.” + +“Ahem! get along, will you, and pass that over.” + +“Well, I know that's another of your crotchets, uncle; but no matter, I +should be sorry, from respect to my mother's memory, to agree with you +there: however to proceed; this Nanny Peety at length--that is about a +week ago--was obliged to disclose to her father the endless persecution +which she had to endure at the hands of Hycy Burke; and in addition to +that disclosure, came another, to the effect that she had been for +a considerable period aware of a robbery which took place in old +Burke's--you may remember the stir it made--and which robbery was +perpetrated by Bat Hogan, one of these infamous tinkers that live in +Gerald Cavanagh's kiln, and under the protection of his family. The +girl's father--who, by the way, is no other than the little black +visaged mendicant who goes about the country--” + +“I know him--proceed.” + +“Her father, I say, on hearing these circumstances, naturally indignant +at Hycy Burke for his attempts to corrupt the principles of his +daughter, brought the latter with him to Father Magowan, in whose +presence she stated all she knew; adding, that she had secured Bat +Hogan's hat and shoes, which, in his hurry, he had forgotten on the +night of the robbery. She also requested the priest to call upon me, +'as she felt certain,' she said, 'in consequence of a letter of Burke's +which I happened to see as she carried it to the post-office, that I +could throw some light upon his villany. He did so.' It was on that +affair the priest called here the other day, and I very candidly +disclosed to him the history of that letter, and its effect in causing +the seizure of the distillery apparatus--the fact being that everything +was got up by Hycy himself--I mean at his cost, with a view to ruin +M'Mahon. And this I did the more readily, as the scoundrel has gone far +to involve me in the conduct imputed to M'Mahon, as his secret abbettor +and enemy.” + +“Well,” observed his uncle, “all that's a very pretty affair as it +stands; but what are you to do next?” + +“There is worse behind, I can assure you,” continued his nephew. “Hycy +Burke, who is proverbially extravagant, having at last, in an indirect +way, ruined young M'Mahon, from the double motive of ill-will and a wish +to raise money by running illicit spirits--” + +“The d--d scoundrel!” exclaimed the gauger, seized with a virtuous +fit of (professional) indignation, “that fellow would scruple at +nothing--proceed.” + +“By the way,” observed the other, rather maliciously, “he made a +complete tool of you in M'Mahon's affair.” + +“He did, the scoundrel,” replied his uncle, wincing a good deal; +“but, as the matter was likely to turn up, he was only working out my +purposes.” + +“He is in a bad mess now, however,” continued his nephew. + +“Why, is there worse to come?” + +“This same Nanny Peety, you must know, is a relative, it seems, to Bat +Hogan's wife. For some time past there has come a strange man named +Vincent, and his wife, to reside in the neighborhood, and this fellow in +conjunction with the Hogans, was managing some secret proceedings which +no one can penetrate. Now, it appears that Hogan's wife, who has been +kept out of this secret, got Nanny Peety to set her father to work in +order to discover it. Peety, by the advice of Hogan's wife, called in +Teddy Phat's--” + +“What's that? Teddy Phats? Now, by the way, Harry, don't abuse poor +Teddy. You will be surprised, Hal, when I tell you that he and I have +played into each other's hands for years. Yes, my boy, and I can assure +you that, owing to him, both Fethertonge and I were aware of Hycy's +Burke's plot against M'Mahon long before he set it a-going. The fellow, +however, will certainly be hanged yet.” + +“Faith, sir,” replied Harry, “instead of being hanged himself, he's +likely to hang others. In consequence of an accidental conversation +which Teddy Phats, and Finigan the tippling schoolmaster had, concerning +Vincent, the stranger I spoke of, who, it appears, lives next to +Finigan's school-house, Teddy discovered, through the pedagogue, who, by +the way, is abroad at all hours, that the aforesaid Vincent was in +the habit of going up every night to the most solitary part of the +mountains, but for what purpose, except upon another distillation +affair, he could not say.” + +The old gauger or supervisor, as he now considered himself, became +here so comically excited--or, we should rather say, so seriously +excited--that it was with difficulty the nephew could restrain his +laughter. He moved as if his veins had been filled with quicksilver, +his eyes brightened, and his naturally keen and knavish-looking features +were sharpened, as it were, into an expression so acutely sinister, that +he resembled a staunch old hound who comes unexpectedly upon the fresh +slot of a hare. + +“Well,” said he, rubbing his hands--“well, go on--what happened? Do you +hear, Harry? What happened? Of course they're at the distillation again. +Don't you hear me, I say? What was the upshot?” + +“Why, the upshot was,” replied the other, “that nothing of sufficient +importance has been discovered yet; but we have reason to suppose that +they're engaged in the process of forgery or coining, as they were in +that of illicit distillation under the patronage of the virtuous Hycy +Burke, or Hycy the accomplished, as he calls himself.” + +“Tut, tut!” exclaimed Clinton, disappointed--“so after all, there has +been nothing done?” + +“Oh, yes, there has been something done; for instance, all these +matters have been laid before Mr. Vanston, and he has had two or three +interviews with Chevydale, in whose estimation he has exonerated young +M'Mahon from the charge of bribery and ingratitude. Fethertonge holds +such a position now with his employer that an infant's breath would +almost blow him out of his good opinion.” + +“I'll tell you what, Harry, I think you have it in your power among you +to punish these rogues; and I think, too, it's a pity that Fethertonge +should escape. A breath will dislodge him, you say; but for fear it +should not, we will give him a breeze.” + +“I am to meet Vanston at Chevydale's by-and-by, uncle. There's to be an +investigation there; and by the way, allow me to bring Hycy's anonymous +letter with me--it may serve an honest man and help to punish a rogue. +What if you would come down with me, and give him the breeze?” + +“Well,” replied the uncle, “for the novelty of the thing I don't care if +I do. I like, after all, to see a rogue punished, especially when he is +not prepared for it.” + +After a little delay they repaired to Chevydale's house, armed with +Hycy's anonymous letter to Clinton, as well as with the document which +the old squire, as he was called, had left for Thomas M'Mahon and his +son. They found the two gentlemen on much better terms than one would +have expected; but, in reality, the state of the country was such as +forced them to open their eyes not merely to the folly of harboring mere +political resentments or senseless party prejudices against each other, +but to the absolute necessity that existed for looking closely into the +state of their property, and the deplorable condition to which, if +they did not take judicious and decisive steps, it must eventually be +reduced. They now began to discover a fact which they ought, long since, +to have known--viz.:--that the condition of the people and that of their +property was one and the same--perfectly identical in all things; and +that a poor tenantry never yet existed upon a thriving or independent +estate, or one that was beneficial to the landlord. + +Vanston had been with his late opponent for some time before the arrival +of Clinton and his nephew; and, as their conversation may not, perhaps, +be without some interest to our readers, we shall detail a portion of +it. + +“So,” says Vanston, “you are beginning to feel that there is something +wrong on your property, and that your agent is not doing you justice?” + +“I have reason to suspect,” replied Chevydale, “that he is neither more +nor less than feathering his own nest at the expense of myself and my +tenantry. I cannot understand why he is so anxious to get the M'Mahons +off the estate; a family unquestionably of great honesty, truth, and +integrity, and who, I believe, have been on the property before it +came into our possession at all. I feel--excuse me, Vanston, for the +admission, but upon my honor it is truth--I feel, I say, that, in the +matter of the election--that is, so far as M'Mahon was concerned, he--my +agent--made a cat's paw of me. He prevented me from supporting young +M'Mahon's memorial; he--he--prejudiced me against the family in several +ways, and now, that I am acquainted with the circumstances of strong and +just indignation against me under which M'Mahon voted, I can't at all +blame him. I would have done the same thing myself.” + +“There is d----d villany somewhere at work,” replied Vanston. “They talk +of a fifty-pound note that I am said to have sent to him by post. Now, I +pledge my honor as an honest man and a gentleman, that I have sifted and +examined all my agents, and am satisfied that he never received a penny +from me. Young Burke did certainly promise to secure me his vote; but I +have discovered Burke to be a most unprincipled profligate, corrupt and +dishonest. For, you may think it strange that, although he engaged to +procure me M'Mahon's vote, M'Mahon himself, whom I believe, assured me +that he never even asked him for it, until after he had overheard, in +the head inn, a conversation concerning himself that filled him with +bitter resentment against you and your agent.” + +“I remember it,” replied Chevydale, “and; yet my agents told me that +Burke did everything in his power to prevent M'Mahon from voting for +you.” + +“That,” replied the other, “was to preserve his own character from the +charge of inconsistency; for, I again assure you that he had promised us +M'Mahon's vote, and that he urged him privately to vote against you. But +d--n the scoundrel, he is not worth the conversation we had about him. +Father Magowan, in consequence of whose note to me I wrote to ask you +here, states in the communication I had from him, that the parties will +be here about twelve o'clock--Burke himself, he thinks, and M'Mahon +along with the rest. The priest wishes to have these Hogans driven out +of the parish--a wish in which I most cordially join him. I hope we +shall soon rid the country of him and his villanous associates. Talking +of the country, what is to be done?” + +“Simply,” replied Chevydale, “that we, the landed proprietors of +Ireland, should awake out of our slumbers, and forgetting those vile +causes of division and subdivision that have hitherto not only disunited +us, but set us together by the ears, we should take counsel among +ourselves, and after due and serious deliberation, come to the +determination that it is our duty to prevent Irish interests from being +made subservient to English interests, and from being legislated for +upon English principles.” + +“I hope, Chevydale, you are not about to become a Repealer.” + +“No, sir; I am, and ever have been sickened by that great imposture. +Another half century would scarcely make us fit for home legislation. +When we look at the conduct of our Irish members in the British +Parliament--I allude now, with few exceptions, to the Repeal +members--what hope can we entertain of honesty and love of country from +such men? When we look, too, at many of our Corporations and strike an +average of their honesty and intellect, have we not a right to thank God +that the interests of our country are not confided to the management of +such an arrogant, corrupt, and vulgar crew as in general compose them. +The truth is, Vanston, we must become national in our own defense, and +whilst we repudiate, with a firm conviction of the folly on the one +hand, and the dishonesty on the other, of those who talk about Repeal, +we shall find it our best policy to forget the interests of any +particular class, and suffer ourselves to melt down into one great +principle of national love and good-will toward each other. Let us only +become unanimous, and England will respect us as she did when we were +unanimous upon other occasions.” + +“I feel, and am perfectly sensible of the truth of what you say,” + replied Vanston, “and I am certain that, in mere self-defence, we must +identify ourselves with the people whose interests most unquestionably +are ours.” + +“As to myself,” continued Chevydale, “I fear I have much to repair in +my conduct as an Irish landlord. I have been too confiding and easy--in +fact, I have not thought for myself; but been merely good or evil, +according to the caprice of the man who managed me, and whom, up until +now, I did not suspect.” + +“The man, my good friend, is probably not worse in general than others,” + replied Vanston; “but the truth is, that there has been such a laxity +of management in Irish property--such indifference and neglect upon our +part, and such gross ignorance of our duties, that agents were, and in +most cases are, at liberty to act as they please in our names, and under +show of our authority; you can scarcely suppose this man, consequently, +much worse than others who are placed in similar circumstances.” + +The dialogue was here interrupted by the entrance of old Clinton and his +nephew; but, as our readers are already in possession of the proofs they +brought against Hycy Burke and Fethertonge, it is not necessary that we +should detail there conversation at full length. + +“I must confess,” said Clinton, “that I would have some reason to feel +ashamed of my part in the transactions with respect to Ahadarra, were it +not, in the first place, that I have never been much afflicted with the +commodity; and, in the next, that these transactions are too common to +excite any feeling one way or the other.” + +“But you must have known, Clinton,” said Chevydale, “that it was a most +iniquitous thing in you to enter into a corrupt bargain with a dishonest +agent for the property which you knew to belong to another man.” + +“What other man, Mr. Chevydale? Had not M'Mahon's lease expired?” + +“But had you not in your own possession my father's written +promise--written, too, on his death-bed--to these honest men, that they +should have their leases renewed?” + +“Yes, but that was your agent's affair, and his dishonesty, too, not +mine.” + +“As much yours as his; and, by the way, I don't see upon what principle +you, who are equally involved with him in the profligacy of the +transaction, should come to bear testimony against him now. They say +there is honor among thieves, but I see very little of it here.” + +“Faith, to tell you the truth,” replied Clinton, “as I said to Harry +here, because _I like to see a rogue punished, especially when he is not +prepared for it_.” + +“Well,” said Chevydale, with a very solemn ironical smile, “I am myself +very much of your way of thinking; and, as a proof of it, I beg to say +that, as your appointment to the office of Supervisor has not yet been +made out, I shall write to my brother, the Commissioner, to take +care that it never shall. To procure the promotion of a man who can +deliberately avow his participation in such shameless profligacy would +be to identify myself with it. You have been doubly treacherous, Mr. +Clinton; first to me, whom you know to be your friend, and, in the next +place, to the unfortunate partner in your villany, and at my expense; +for d----d if I can call it less. What noise is that?” + +Clinton the elder here withdrew, and had scarcely disappeared when two +voices were heard in the hall, in a kind of clamorous remonstrance with +each other, which voices were those of Father Magowan and our friend +O'Finigan, as we must now call him, inasmuch as he is, although early in +the day, expanded with that hereditary sense of dignity which will not +allow the great O to be suppressed. + +“Behave, and keep quiet, now,” said his Reverence, “you unfortunate +pedagogue you; I tell you that you are inebriated.” + +“Pardon me, your Reverence,” replied O'Finigan; “_non ebrius sed vino +gravatus_, devil a thing more.” + +“Get out, you profligate,” replied the priest, “don't you know that +either, at this time o' day, is too bad?” + +“_Nego, dominie--nego, Dominie revendre_--denial is my principle, I say. +Do you assert that there's no difference between _ebrius_ and _gravatus +vino_?” + +“In your case, you reprobate, I do. Where would you get the vino? +However,” he proceeded, “as you are seldom sober, and as I know it is +possible you may have something of importance to say on a particular +subject, I suppose you may as well say it now as any other time, and +it's likely we may get more truth out of you.” + +“Ay,” said the schoolmaster, “upon the principle that _in vino veritas_; +but you know that _gravatus vino_ and _ebrius_ are two different +things--_gravatus vino_, the juice o' the grape--och, och, as every one +knows, could and stupid; but _ebrius_ from blessed poteen, that warms +and gives ecstatic nutrition to the heart.” + +The altercation proceeded for a little, but, after a short remonstrance +and bustle, the priest, followed by O'Finigan, entered the room. + +“Gentlemen,” said the priest, “I trust you will excuse me for the +society in which I happen to appear before you; but the truth is that +this Finigan--” + +“Pardon me, your Reverence, O'Finigan if you plaise; we have been shorn +of--” + +“Well, then, since he will have it so, this O'Finigan is really +inebriated, and I cannot exactly say why, in this state, his presence +can be of any advantage to us.” + +“He says,” replied the master, “that I am _ebrius_, whereas I replied +that I was only _vino gravatus_, by which I only meant _quasi vino +gravatus_; but the truth is, gentlemen, that I'm never properly sober +until I'm half seas over--for it is then that I have all my wits +properly about me.” + +“In fact, gentleman,” proceeded the priest, “in consequence of certain +disclosures that have reached me with reference to these Hogans, I +deemed it my duty to bring Nanny Peety before Mr. Chevydale here. She +is accompanied by Kate Hogan, the wife of one of these ruffians, who +refuses to be separated from her--and insists, consequently, on coming +along with her. I don't exactly know what her motive may be in this; but +I am certain she has a motive. It is a gratification to me, however, to +find, gentlemen, that you both happen to be present upon this occasion. +I sent word to Hycy Burke and to Bryan M'Mahon; for I thought it only +fair that Hycy should be present, in order to clear himself in case any +charge may be brought against him. I expect M'Mahon, too.” + +“Let us remove, then, to my office,” said, Chevydale--“it is now a few +minutes past twelve, and I dare say they will soon be here.” + +They accordingly did so; and, as he had said, the parties almost +immediately made their appearance. + +“Now, gentlemen,” said Father Magowan, “I am of opinion that the best +way is for this girl to state what she knows concerning these Hogans; +but I think I can now persave the raison why Kate Hogan has made it a +point to come with her. It is quite evident from her manner that she +wishes to intimidate this girl, and to prevent her from stating fully +and truly what she knows.” + +“No,” replied Kate, “it is no such thing--she must either state the +whole truth or nothing; that's what I want, an' what she must do--put +the saddle on the right horse, Nanny--since you will spake.” + +“It is a good proverbial illustration,” observed Finigan, “but I will +improve it--put the saddle of infamy, I say, upon the right horse, +Nanny. You see, gintlemen,” he added, turning to the magistrates, “my +improvement elevates the metaphor--proceed, girsha.” + + +“Gentlemen,” said Hycy, “I received a note from Father Magowan informing +me that it was probable certain charges might be brought against me--or +at least some complaints made,” he added, softening the expression--“and +I should be glad to know what they are all about, before this girl +commences formally to state them; I say so in order that I may not be +taken by surprise.” + +“You know,” replied the priest, “that you cannot be taken by surprise; +because I myself told you the substance of the strong suspicions that +are against you.” + +Bryan M'Mahon now entered, and was cordially greeted by Vanston--and we +may add rather kindly, in manner at least, by Chevydale. + +“By the way,” asked the former of these gentlemen, “does this +investigation bear in any way upon your interests, M'Mahon?” + +“Not, sir, so far as I am aware of--I come here because Father Magowan +wished me to come. I have no interests connected with this country +now,” he added in a tone of deep melancholy, “there's an end to that for +ever.” + +“Now, my good girl,” said Chevydale, “you will state all you know +connected with these Hogans fully and truly--that is, neither more nor +less than the truth.” + +“All the truth, Nanny,” said Kate Hogan, in a voice of strongly +condensed power; “Hycy Burke,” she proceeded, “you ruined Bryan +M'Mahon here--and, by ruinin' him, you broke Miss Kathleen Cavanagh's +heart--she's gone--no docthor could save her now; and for this you'll +soon know what Kate Hogan can do. Go on, Nanny.” + +“Well, gintlemon,” Nanny began, “in the first place it was Mr. Hycy here +that got the Still up in Ahadarra, in ordher to beggar Bryan M'Mahon by +the fine.” + +Hycy laughed. “Excellent!” said he; “Why, really, Mr. Chevydale, I did +not imagine that you could suffer such a farce as this is likely to turn +out to be enacted exactly in your office.” + +“Enacted! well, that's, appropriate at any rate,” said the schoolmaster; +“but in the mane time, Mr. Hycy, take care that the farce won't become +a tragedy on your hands, and you yourself the hero of it. Proceed, +girsha.” + +“How do you know,” asked Chevydale, “that this charge is true?” + +“If I don't know it,” she replied, “my aunt here does,--and I think so +does Mr. Harry Clinton an' others.” + +“Pray, my woman, what do you know about this matter?” asked Chevydale, +addressing Kate. + +“Why that it was Mr. Hycy Burke that gave the Hogans the money to make +the Still, set it up--and to Teddy Phats to buy barley; and although he +didn't tell them it was to ruin Bryan M'Mahon he did it, sure they all +knew it was--'spishly when he made them change from Glendearg above, +where they were far safer, down to Ahadarra.” + +“I assure you, gentlemen,” said Hycy, “that the respectability of the +witnesses you have fished up is highly creditable to your judgments +and sense of justice;--a common vagabond and notorious thief on the one +hand, and a beggarman's brat on the other. However, proceed--I perceive +that I shall be obliged to sink under the force of such testimony--ha! +ha! ha!” + +At this moment old Jemmy Burke, having accidentally heard that morning +that such an investigation was to take place, and likely to bear upon +the conduct of his eldest son, resolved to be present at it, and he +accordingly presented himself as Hycy had concluded his observations. + +The high integrity of his character was at once recognized--he was +addressed in terms exceedingly respectful, if not deferential, by +the two magistrates--Chevydale having at once ordered the servant in +attendance to hand him a chair. He thanked him, however, but declined it +gratefully, and stood like the rest. + +In the meantime the investigation proceeded. “Mr. Burke,” said +Chevydale, addressing himself to the old man, whose features, by the +way, were full of sorrow and distress--“it may be as well to state to +you that we are not sitting now formally in our magisterial capacity, to +investigate any charges that may be brought against your son, but simply +making some preliminary inquiries with respect to other charges, which +we have been given to understand are about to be brought against the +notorious Hogans.” + +“Don't lay the blame upon the Hogans,” replied Kate, fiercely--“the +Hogans, bad as people say they are, only acted under Hycy Burke. It was +Hycy Burke.” + +“But,” said Chevydale, probably out of compassion for the old man, “you +must know we are not now investigating Mr. Burke's conduct.” + +“Proceed, gintlemen,” said his father, firmly but sorrowfully; “I have +heard it said too often that he was at the bottom of the plot that +ruined Bryan M'Mahon, or that wint near to ruin him; I wish to have that +well sifted, gintlemen, and to know the truth.” + +“I can swear,” continued Kate, “that it was him got up the whole plan, +and gave them the money for it. I seen him in our house--or, to come +nearer the truth, in Gerald Cavanagh's kiln, where we live--givin' them +the money.” + +“As you are upon that subject, gentlemen,” observed Harry Clinton, “I +think it due to the character of Bryan M'Mahon to state that I am in a +capacity to prove that Hycy Burke was unquestionably at the bottom--or, +in point of fact, the originator--of his calamities with reference to +the act of illicit distillation, and the fine which he would have been +called on to pay, were it not that the Commissioners of Excise remitted +it.” + +“Thank you, Mr. Clinton,” replied Hycy; “I find I am not mistaken in +you--I think you are worthy of your accomplices”--and he pointed to Kate +and Nanny as he spoke--“proceed.” + +“We are passing,” observed Vanston, “from one to another rather +irregularly, I fear; don't you think we had better hear this girl fully +in the first place; but, my good girl,” he added, “you are to understand +that we are not here to investigate any charges against Mr. Hycy Burke, +but against the Hogans. You will please then to confine your charges to +them.” + +“But,” replied Nanny, “that's what I can't do, plase your honor, widout +bringin' in Hycy Burke too, bekaise himself an' the Hogans was joined in +everything.” + +“I think, gintlemen,” said the priest, “the best plan is to let her tell +her story in her own way.” + +“Perhaps so,” said Chevydale; “proceed, young woman, and state fully and +truly whatever you have got to say.” + +“Well, then,” she proceeded, “there's one thing I know--I know who +robbed Mr. Burke here;” and she pointed to the old man, who started. + +The magistrates also looked surprised. “How,” said Vanston, turning his +eyes keenly upon her, “you know of the robbery; and pray, how long have +you known it?'” + +“Ever since the night it was committed, plaise your honor.” + +“What a probable story!” exclaimed Hycy; “and you kept it to yourself, +like an honest girl as you are, until now!” + +“Why, Mr. Burke,” said Vanston, quickly and rather sharply, “surely you +can have no motive in impugning her evidence upon that subject?” + +Hycy bit his lip, for he instantly felt that he had overshot himself by +almost anticipating the charge, as if it were about to be made against +himself;--“What I think improbable in it,” said Hycy, “is that she +should, if in possession of the facts, keep them concealed so long.” + +“Oh, never fear, Mr. Hycy, I'll soon make that plain enough,” she +replied. + +“But in the mean time,” said Chevydale, “will you state the names of +those who did commit the robbery?” + +“I will,” she replied. + +“The whole truth, Nanny,” exclaimed Kate. + +“It was Bat Hogan, then, that robbed Mr. Burke,” she replied; +“and--and--” + +“Out wid it,” said Kate. + +“And who besides, my good girl?” inquired Vanston. + +The young woman looked round with compassion upon Jemmy Burke, and the +tears started to her eyes. “I pity him!” she exclaimed, “I pity him--that +good old man;” and, as she uttered the words, she wept aloud. + +“This, I fear, is getting rather a serious affair,” said Vanston, in a +low voice to Chevydale--“I see how the tide is likely to turn.” + +Chevydale merely nodded, as if he also comprehended it. “You were about +to add some other name?” said he; “in the mean time compose yourself and +proceed.” + +Hycy Burke's face at this moment had become white as a sheet; in fact, +to any one of common penetration, guilt and a dread of the coming +disclosure were legible in every lineament of it. + +“Who was the other person you were about to mention?” asked Vanston. + +“His own son, sir, Mr. Hycy Burke, there.” + +“Ha!” exclaimed Chevydale; “Mr. Hycy Burke, do you say? Mr. Burke,” + he added, addressing that gentleman, “how is this? Here is a grave and +serious charge against you. What have you to say to it?” + +“That it would be both grave and serious,” replied Hycy, “if it +possessed but one simple element, without which all evidence is +valueless--I mean truth. All I can say is, that she might just as well +name either of yourselves, gentlemen, as me.” + +“How do you know that Hogan committed the robbery?” asked Hycy. + +“Simply bekaise I seen him. He broke open the big chest above stairs.” + +“How did you see him?” asked Vanston. + +“Through a hole in the partition,” she replied, “where a knot of the +deal boards had come out. I slep', plaise your honor, in a little closet +off o' the room the money was in.” + +“Is it true that she slept there, Mr. Burke?” asked Vanston of the old +man. + +“It is thrue, sir, God help me; that at all events is thrue.” + +“Well, proceed,” said Chevydale. + +“I then throw my gown about my shoulders; but in risin' from my bed it +creaked a little, an' Bat Hogan, who had jest let down the lid of the +chest aisily when he hard the noise, blew out the bit of candle that he +had in his hand, and picked his way down stairs as aisily as he could. I +folloyed him on my tippy-toes, an' when he came opposite the door of +the room where the masther and misthress sleep, the door opened, an' the +mistress wid a candle in her hand met him full--but in the teeth. I was +above upon the stairs at the time, but from the way an' the place she +stood in, the light didn't rache me, so that I could see them widout +bein' seen myself. Well, when the mistress met him she was goin' to bawl +out wid terror, an' would, too, only that Masther Hycy flew to her, put +his hand on her mouth, an' whispered something in her ear. He then went +over to Bat, and got a large shafe of bank-notes from him, an' motioned +him to be off wid himself, an' that he'd see him to-morrow. Bat went +down in the dark, an' Hycy an' his mother had some conversation in a +low voice on the lobby. She seemed angry, an' he was speakin' soft an' +strivin' to put her into good humor again. I then dipt back to bed, but +the never a wink could I get till mornin'; an' when I went down, the +first thing I saw was Bat Hogan's shoes. It was hardly light at the +time; but at any rate I hid them where they couldn't be got, an' it was +well I did, for the first thing I saw was Bat himself peering about the +street and yard, like a man that was looking for something that he had +lost.” + +“But how did you know that the shoes were Hogan's?” asked Vanston. + +“Why, your honor, any one that ever seen the man might know that. One +of his heels is a trifle shorter than the other, which makes him halt a +little, an' he has a bunion as big as an egg on the other foot.” + +“Ay, Nanny,” said Kate, “that's the truth; but I can tell you more, +gentlemen. On the evenin' before, when Mr. Hycy came home, he made up +the plan to rob his father wid Phil Hogan; but Phil got drunk that night +an' Bat had to go in his place. Mr. Hycy promised to see the Hogans that +mornin' at his father's, about ten o'clock; but when they went he had +gone off to Ballymacan; an' as they expected him every minute, they +stayed about the place in spite o' the family, an' mended everything +they could lay their hands on. Bat an' Mr. Hycy met that night in Teddy +Phat's still-house, in Glendearg, an' went home together across the +mountains aftherward.” + +“Well, Mr. Burke, what have you to say to this?” asked Chevydale. + +“Why,” replied Hycy, “that it's a very respectable conspiracy as it +stands, supported by the thief and vagabond, and the beggar's brat.” + +“Was there any investigation at the time of its occurrence?” asked +Vanston. + +“There was, your honor,” replied Nanny; “it was proved, clearly enough +that Phil and Ned Hogan were both dead drunk that night an' couldn't +commit a robbery; an' Masther Hycy himself said that he knew how Bat +spent the night, an' that of course he couldn't do it; an' you know, +your honors, there was no gettin' over that. I have, or rather my father +has, Bat Hogan's shoes still.” + +“This, I repeat, seems a very serious charge, Mr. Burke,” said Chevydale +again. + +“Which, as I said before, contains not one particle of truth,” replied +Hycy. “If I had resolved to break open my father's chest to get cash out +of it, it is not likely that I would call in the aid of such a man +as Bat Hogan. As a proof that I had nothing to do with the robbery in +question, I can satisfy you that my mother, not many days after the +occurrence of it, was obliged to get her car and drive some three or +four miles' distance to borrow a hundred pounds for me from a friend of +hers, upon her own responsibility, which, had I committed the outrage in +question, I would not have required at all.” + +Old Burke's face would, at this period of the proceedings, have extorted +compassion from any heart. Sorrow, distress, agony of spirit, and shame, +were all so legible in his pale features--that those who were present +kept their eyes averted, from respect to the man, and from sympathy with +his sufferings. + +At length he himself came forward, and, after wiping away a few bitter +tears from his cheeks, he said--“Gentlemen, I care little about the +money I lost, nor about who took it--let it go--as for me, I won't miss +it; but there is one thing that cuts me to the heart--I'm spakin' about +the misfortune that was brought, or near bein' brought, upon this honest +an' generous-hearted young man, Bryan M'Mahon, through manes of a black +plot that was got up against him--I'm spakin' of the Still that was +found on his farm of Ahadarra. That, if my son had act or part in it, is +a thousand times worse than the other; as for the takin' of the money, +I don't care about it, as I said--nor I won't prosecute any one for it; +but I must have my mind satisfied about the other affair.” + +It is not our intention to dwell at any length upon the clear proofs of +his treachery and deceit, which were established against him by Harry +Clinton, who produced the anonymous letter to his uncle--brought home to +him as it was by his own evidence and that of Nanny Peety. + +“There is, however,” said Vanston, “another circumstance affecting the +reputation and honesty of Mr. Bryan M'Mahon, which in your presence, +Mr. M'Gowan, I am anxious to set at rest. I have already contradicted it +with indignation wherever I have heard it, and I am the more anxious +to do so, now, whilst M'Mahon and Burke are present, and because I have +been given to understand that you denounced him--M'Mahon--with such +hostility from the altar, as almost occasioned him to be put to death in +the house of God.” + +“You are undher a mistake there, Major Vanston, with great respect,” + replied the priest. “It wasn't I but my senior curate, Father M'Pepper; +and he has already been reprimanded by his Bishop.” + +“Well,” replied the other, “I am glad to hear it. However, I, now +solemnly declare, as an honest man and an Irish, gentleman, that neither +I, nor any one for me, with my knowledge, ever gave or sent any money to +Bryan M'Mahon; but perhaps we may ascertain who did. M'Mahon, have you +got the letter about you?” + +“I have, sir,” replied Bryan, “and the bank-note, too.” + +“You will find the frank and address both in your own handwriting,” said +Hycy. “It was I brought him the letter from the post-office.” + +“Show me the letter, if you plaise,” said Nanny, who, after looking +first at it and then at Hycy, added, “and it was I gave it this little +tear near the corner, and dhrew three scrapes of a pin across the paper, +an' there they are yet; an' now I can take my oath that it was Mr. Hycy +that sent that letther to Bryan M'Mahon--an' your Reverence is the very +man I showed it to, and that tould me who it was goin' to, in the street +of Ballymacan.”' + +On a close inspection of the letter it was clearly obvious that, +although there appeared at a cursory glance a strong resemblance between +the frank and the address, yet the difference was too plain to be +mistaken. + +“If there is further evidence necessary,” said Vanston, looking at Hycy +significantly, “my agent can produce it--and he is now in the house.” + +“I think you would not venture on that,” replied Hycy. + +“Don't be too sure of that,” said the other, determinedly. + +“Sir,” replied Father Magowan, “there is nothing further on that point +necessary--the proof is plain and clear; and now, Bryan M'Mahon, give +me your hand, for it is that of an honest man--I am proud to see that +you stand pure and unsullied again; and it shall be my duty to see that +justice shall be rendered! you, and ample compensation made for all that +you have suffered.” + +“Thank you, sir,” replied Bryan, with an air of deep dejection, “but I +am sorry to say it is now too late--I am done with the country, and with +those that misrepresented me, for ever.” + +Chevydale looked at him with deep attention for a moment, then whispered +something to Vanston, who smiled, and nodded his head approvingly. + +Jemmy Burke now prepared to go. “Good mornin', gintlemen,” he said, “I +am glad to see the honest name cleared and set right, as it ought to be; +but as for myself, I lave you wid a heavy--wid a breakin' heart.” + +As he disappeared at the door, Hycy rushed after him, exclaiming, +“Father, listen to me--don't go yet till you hear my defence. I will go +and fetch him back,” he exclaimed--“he must hear what I have to say for +myself.” + +He overtook his father at the bottom of the hall steps. “Give me a +hundred pounds,” said he, “and you will never see my face again.” + +“There is two hundre',” said his father; “I expected this. Your mother +confessed all to me this mornin', bekaise she knew it would come out +here, I suppose. Go now, for undher my roof you'll never come again. If +you can--reform your life--an' live at all events, as if there was a God +above you. Before you go answer me;--what made you bring in Bat Hogan +to rob me?” + +“Simply,” replied his son, “because I wished to make him and them feel +that I had them in my power--and now you have it.” + +[Illustration: PAGE 635-- Hycy received the money, set spurs to his horse] + +Hycy received the money, set spurs to his horse, and was out of sight in +a moment--“Ah!” exclaimed the old man, with bitterness of soul, “what +mightn't he be if his weak and foolish mother hadn't taken it into her +head to make a gentleman of him! But now she reaps as she sowed. She's +punished--an' that's enough.”--And thus does Hycy the accomplished make +his exit from our humble stage. + +“Gintlemen,” said Finigan, “now that the accomplished Mr. Hycy is +disposed of, I beg to state, that it will be productive of much public +good to the country to expatriate these three virtuous worthies, _qui +nomine gaudent_ Hogan--and the more so as it can be done on clear legal +grounds. They are a principal means of driving this respectable young +man, Bryan M'Mahon, and his father's family, out of the land of their +birth; and there will be something extremely appropriate--and indicative +besides of condign and retributive punishment--in sending them on their +travels at his Majesty's expense. I am here, in connection with others, +to furnish you with the necessary proof against them; and I am of +opinion that the sooner they are sent upon a voyage of discovery it will +be so much the better for the rejoicing neighborhood they will leave +behind them.” + +The hint was immediately taken with respect to them and Vincent, all +of whom had been engaged in coming under Hycy's auspices--they were +apprehended and imprisoned, the chief evidence against them being Teddy +Phats, Peety Dhu, and Finigan, who for once became a stag, as he called +it. They were indicted for a capital felony; but the prosecution having +been postponed for want of sufficient evidence, they were kept in +durance until next assizes;--having found it impossible to procure bail. +In the meantime new charges of uttering base coin came thick and strong +against them; and as the Crown lawyers found that they could not succeed +on the capital indictment--nor indeed did they wish to do so--they +tried them on the lighter one, and succeeded in getting sentence of +transportation passed against every one of them, with the exception of +Kate Hogan alone.--So that, as Finigan afterwards said, “instead of Bryan +M'Mahon, it was they themselves that became 'the Emigrants of Ahadarra,' +at the king's expense--and Mr. Hycy at his own.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII.--Conclusion. + + +How Kathleen Cavanagh spent the time that elapsed between the period +at which she last appeared to our readers and the present may be easily +gathered from what we are about to write. We have said already that her +father, upon the strength of some expressions uttered in a spirit of +distraction and agony, assured Jemmy Burke that she had consented to +marry his son Edward, after a given period. Honest Jemmy, however, never +for a moment suspected the nature of the basis upon which his worthy +neighbor had erected the superstructure of his narrative; but at +the same time he felt sadly puzzled by the melancholy and declining +appearance of her whom he looked upon as his future daughter-in-law. The +truth was that scarcely any of her acquaintances could recognize her as +the same majestic, tall, and beautiful girl whom they had known before +this heavy disappointment had come on her. Her exquisite figure had lost +most of its roundness, her eye no longer flashed--with its dark mellow +lustre, and her cheek--her damask cheek--distress and despair had fed +upon it, until little remained there but the hue of death itself. Her +health in fact was evidently beginning to go. Her appetite had abandoned +her; she slept little, and that little was restless and unrefreshing. +All her family, with the exception of her father and mother, who +sustained themselves with the silly ambition of their daughter being +able to keep her jaunting-car--for her father had made that point a +_sine qua non_--all, we say, with the above exceptions, became seriously +alarmed at the state of her mind and health. + +“Kathleen, dear,” said her affectionate sister, “I think you have +carried your feelings against Bryan far enough.” + +“My feelings against Bryan!” she exclamed. + +“Yes,” proceeded her sister, “I think you ought to forgive him.” + +“Ah, Hanna darling, how little you know of your sister's heart. I have +long since forgiven him, Hanna.” + +“Then what's to prevent you from making up with him?” + +“I have long since forgiven him, Hanna; but, my dear sister, I never can +nor will think for a moment of marrying any man that has failed, when +brought to the trial, in honest and steadfast principal--the man that +would call me wife should be upright, pure, and free from every stain of +corruption--he must have no disgrace or dishonor upon his name, and he +must feel the love of his religion and his country as the great ruling +principles of his life. I have long since forgiven Bryan, but it is +because he is not what I hoped he was, and what I wished him to be, that +I am as you see me.” + +“Then you do intend to marry?” asked Hanna, with a smile. + +“Why do you ask that, Hanna?” + +“Why, because you've given me sich a fine description of the kind o' man +your husband is to be.” + +“Hanna,” she replied, solemnly, “look at my cheek, look at my eye, look +at my whole figure, and then ask me that question again if you can. +Don't you see, darling, that death is upon me? I feel it.” + +Her loving and beloved sister threw her arms around her neck, and burst +into an irrepressible fit of bitter grief. + +“Oh, you are changed, most woefully, Kathleen, darlin',” she exclaimed, +kissing her tenderly; “but if you could only bear up now, time would set +everything right, and bring you about right, as it will still, I hope.” + +Her sister mused for some time, and then added--“I think I could bear +up yet if he was to stay in the country; but when I recollect that he's +going to another land--forever--I feel that my heart is broken: as it +is, his disgrace and that thought are both killin' me. To-morrow the +auction comes on, and then he goes--after that I will never see him. I'm +afraid, Hanna, that I'll have to go to bed; I feel that I'm hardly able +to sit up.” + +Hanna once more pressed her to her heart and wept. + +“Don't cry, Hanna dear--don't cry for me; the bitterest part of my fate +will be partin' from you.” + +Hanna here pressed her again and wept aloud, whilst her spotless and +great-minded sister consoled her as well as she could. “Oh, what would +become of me!” exclaimed Hanna, sobbing; “if anything was to happen you, +or take you away from me, it would break my heart, too, and I'd die.” + +“Hanna,” said her sister, not encouraging her to proceed any further on +that distressing subject; “on to-morrow, the time I allowed for Bryan +to clear himself, if he could, will be up, and I have only to beg that +you'll do all you can to prevent my father and mother from distressing +me about Edward Burke; I will never marry him, but I expect to see him +your husband yet, and I think he's worthy of you--that's saying a great +deal, I know. You love him, Hanna--I know it, and he loves you, Hanna, +for he told me so the last day but one he was here;--you remember they +all went out, and left us together, and then he told me all.” + +Hanna's face and neck became crimson, and she was about to reply, when +a rather loud but good-humored voice was heard in the kitchen, for this +dialogue took place in the parlor--exclaiming, “God save all here! How +do you do, Mrs. Cavanagh? How is Gerald and the youngsters?” + +“Indeed all middlin' well, thank your reverence, barrin' our eldest girl +that's a little low spirited for some time past.” + +“Ay, ay, I know the cause of that--it's no secret--where is she now? If +she's in the house let me see her.” + +The two sisters having composed their dress a little and their features, +immediately made their appearance. + +“God be good to us!” he exclaimed, “here's a change! Why, may I never +sin, if I'd know her no more than the mother that bore her. Lord guard +us! look at this! Do you give her nothing, Mrs. Cavanagh?” + +“Nothing on airth,” she replied; “her complaint's upon the spirits, an' +we didn't think that physic stuff would be of any use to her.” + +“Well, perhaps I will find a cure for her. Listen to me, darling. Your +sweetheart's name and fame are cleared, and Bryan M'Mahon is what he +ever was--an honest an' upright young man.” + +Kathleen started, looked around her, as if with amazement, and without +seeming to know exactly what she did, went towards the door, and +was about to walk out, when Hanna, detaining her, asked with +alarm--“Kathleen, what ails you, dear? Where are you going?” + +“Going,” she replied; “I was going to--where?--why?--what--what has +happened?” + +“The news came upon her too much by surprise,” said Hanna, looking +towards the priest. + +“Kathleen, darlin',” exclaimed her mother, “try and compose yourself. +Lord guard us, what can ail her?” + +“Let her come with me into the parlor, mother, an' do you an' Father +Magowan stay where you are.” + +They accordingly went in, and after about the space of ten minutes she +recovered herself so far as to make Hanna repeat the intelligence which +the simple-hearted priest had, with so little preparation, communicated. +Having listened to it earnestly, she laid her head upon Hanna's bosom +and indulged in a long fit of quiet and joyful grief. When she had +recovered a little, Father Magowan entered at more length into the +circumstances connected with the changes that had affected her lover's +character so deeply, after which he wound up by giving expression to the +following determination--a determination, by the way, which we earnestly +recommend to all politicians of his profession. + +“As for my part,” said he, “it has opened my eyes to one thing that +I won't forget:--a single word of politics I shall never suffer to +be preached from the altar while I live; neither shall I allow +denouncements for political offences. The altar, as the bishop told +me--and a hard rap he gave Mr. M'Pepper across the knuckles for Bryan's +affair--'the altar,' said he, 'isn't the place for politics, but for +religion; an' I hope I may never hear of its being desecrated with +politics again,' said his lordship, an' neither I will, I assure you.” + +The intelligence of the unexpected change that had taken place in favor +of the M'Mahon's, did not reach them on that day, which was the same, +as we have stated, on which their grandfather departed this life. The +relief felt by Thomas M'Mahon and his family at this old man's death, +took nothing from the sorrow which weighed them down so heavily in +consequence of their separation from the abode of their forefathers +and the place of their birth. They knew, or at least they took it for +granted that their grandfather would never have borne the long voyage +across the Atlantic, a circumstance which distressed them very much. His +death, however, exhibiting, as it did, the undying attachment to home +which nothing else could extinguish, only kindled the same affection +more strongly and tenderly in their hearts. The account of it had gone +abroad through the neighborhood, and with it the intelligence that the +auction would be postponed until that day week. And now that he was +gone, all their hearts turned with sorrow and sympathy to the deep and +almost agonizing' struggles which their coming departure caused their +father to contend with. Bryan whose calm but manly firmness sustained +them all, absolutely feared that his courage would fail him, or that his +very health would break down. He also felt for his heroic little sister, +Dora, who, although too resolute to complain or urge her own sufferings, +did not endure the less on that account. + +“My dear Dora,” said he, after their grandfather had been laid out, “I +know what you are suffering, but what can I do? This split between +the Cavanaghs and us has put it out of my power to serve you as I had +intended. It was my wish to see you and James Cavanagh married; but God +knows I pity you from my heart; for, my dear Dora, there's no use in +denyin' it, I understand too well what you feel.” + +“Don't fret for me, Bryan,” she replied; “I'm willin' to bear my share +of the affliction that has come upon the family, rather than do anything +mane or unworthy. I know it goes hard with me to give up James and +lave him for ever; but then I see that it must be done, and that I must +submit to it. May God strengthen and enable me! and that's my earnest +prayer. I also often prayed that you an' Kathleen might be reconciled; +but I wasn't heard, it seems. I sometimes think that you ought to go to +her; but then on second thoughts I can hardly advise you to do so.” + +“No, Dora, I never will, dear; she ought to have heard me as you said +face to face; instead o' that she condemned me without a hearin'. An' +yet, Dora,” he added, “little she knows--little she drames, what I'm +sufferin on her account, and how I love her--more now than ever, I +think; she's so changed, they say, that you could scarcely know her.” As +he spoke, a single tear fell upon Dora's hand which he held in his. + +“Come. Bryan,” she said, assuming a cheerfulness which she did not feel, +“don't have it to say that little Dora, who ought and does look up to +you for support, must begin to support you herself; to-morrow's the +last day--who knows but she may relent yet?” Bryan smiled faintly, then +patted her head, and said, “darling little Dora, the wealth of nations +couldn't purchase you.” + +“Not to do any thing mane or wrong, at any rate,” she replied; after +which she went in to attend to the affairs of the family, for this +conversation took place in the garden. + +As evening approached, a deep gloom, the consequence of strong inward +suffering, overspread the features and bearing of Thomas M'Mahon. For +some time past, he had almost given himself over to the influence of +what he experienced--a fact that was observable in many ways, all more +or less tending to revive the affection which he felt for his departed +wife. For instance, ever since their minds had been made up to emigrate, +he had watched, and tended, and fed Bracky, her favorite cow, with his +own hands; nor would he suffer any one else in the family to go near +her, with the exception of Dora, by whom she had been milked ever since +her mother's death, and to whom the poor animal had now transferred her +affection. He also cleaned and oiled her spinning-wheel, examined her +clothes, and kept himself perpetually engaged in looking at every object +that was calculated to bring her once more before his imagination. + +About a couple of hours before sunset, without saying where he was +going, he sauntered down to the graveyard of Gamdhu where she lay, and +having first uncovered his head and offered up a prayer for the repose +of her soul, he wept bitterly. + +“Bridget,” said he, in that strong figurative language so frequently +used by the Irish, when under the influence of deep, emotion; “Bridget, +wife of my heart, you are removed from the thrials and throubles of this +world--from the thrials and throubles that have come upon us. I'm come, +now--your own husband--him that loved you beyant everything on this +earth, to tell you why the last wish o' my heart, which was to sleep +where I ought to sleep, by your side, can't be granted to me, and to +explain to you why it is, in case you'd miss me from my place beside +you. This unfortunate counthry, Bridget, has changed, an' is changin' +fast for the worse. The landlord hasn't proved himself to be towards us +what he ought to be, and what we expected he would; an' so, rather than +remain at the terms he axes from us, it's better for us to thry our +fortune in America; bekaise, if we stay here, we must only come to +poverty an' destitution, an' sorrow; an' you know how it 'ud break my +heart to see our childre' brought to that, in the very place where they +wor always respected. They're all good to me, as they ever wor to' us +both, acushla machree; but poor Bryan, that you loved so much--your +favorite and your pride--has had much to suffer, darlin', since you left +us; but blessed be God, he bears it manfully and patiently, although +I can see by the sorrow on my boy's brow that the heart widin him is +breakin'. He's not, afther all, to be married, as you hoped and wished +he would, to Kathleen Cavanagh. Her mind has been poisoned against him; +but little she knows him, or she'd not turn from him as she did. An' +now, Bridget, asthore machree, is it come to this wid me? I must lave +you for ever. I must lave--as my father said, that went this day to +heaven as you know, now--I must lave, as he said, the ould places. I +must go to a strange country, and sleep among a strange people; but +it's for the sake of our childre' I do so, lavin' you alone there where +you're sleepin'? I wouldn't lave you if I could help it; but we'll +meet yet in heaven, my blessed wife, where there won't be distress, or +injustice, or sorrow to part us. Achora machree, I'm come, then, to take +my last farewell of you. Farewell, then, my darlin' wife, till we meet +for evermore in heaven!” + +He departed from the grave slowly, and returned in deep sorrow to his +own house. + +About twelve o'clock the next morning, the family and those neighbors +who were assembled as usual at the wake-house, from respect to the dead, +were a good deal surprised by the appearance of Mr. Vanston and their +landlord, both of whom entered the house. + +“Gentlemen, you're welcome,” said old M'Mahon; “but I'm sorry to say +that it's to a house of grief and throuble I must welcome you--death's +here, gentlemen, and more than death; but God's will be done, we must be +obaidient.” + +“M'Mahon,” said Chevydale, “give me your hand. I am sorry that either +you or your son have suffered anything on my account. I am come now to +render you an act of justice--to compensate both you and him, as far +as I can, for the anxiety you have endured. Consider yourselves +both, therefore, as restored to your farms at the terms you proposed +originally. I shall have leases prepared--give up the notion of +emigration--the country cannot spare such men as you and your admirable +son. I shall have leases I say prepared, and you will be under no +necessity of leaving either Carriglass or Ahadarra.” + +Need we describe the effect which such a communication had upon this +sterling-hearted family? Need we assure our readers that the weight +was removed from all their hearts, and the cloud from every brow? Is it +necessary to add that Bryan M'Mahon and his high-minded Kathleen were +married? that Dora and James followed their example, and that Edward +Burke, in due time, bestowed his hand upon sweet and affectionate Hanna +Cavanagh? + +We have little now to add. Young Clinton, in the course of a few +months, became agent to Chevydale, whose property soon gave proofs that +kindness, good judgment, and upright principle were best calculated not +only to improve it, but to place a landlord and his tenantry on that +footing of mutual good-will and reciprocal interest upon which they +should ever stand towards each other. + +We need scarcely say that the sympathy felt for honest Jemmy Burke, in +consequence of the disgraceful conduct of his son, was deep and general. +He himself did not recover it for a long period, and it was observed +that, in future, not one of his friends ever uttered Hycy's name in his +presence. + +With respect to that young gentleman's fate and that of Teddy Phats, +we have to record a rather remarkable coincidence. In about three years +after his escape, his father received an account of his death from +Montreal, where it appears he expired under circumstances of great +wretchedness and destitution, after having led, during his residence +there, a most profligate and disgraceful life. Early the same day +on which the intelligence of his death reached his family, they also +received an account through the M'Mahons to the effect that Teddy Phats +had, on the preceding night, fallen from one of the cliffs of Althadawan +and broken his neck; a fate which occasioned neither surprise nor +sorrow. + +We have only to add that Bryan M'Mahon and his wife took Nanny Peety +into their service; and that Kate Hogan and Mr. O'Finigan had always a +comfortable seat at their hospitable hearth; and the latter a warm glass +of punch occasionally, for the purpose, as he said himself, of keeping +him properly sober. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Emigrants Of Ahadarra, by William Carleton + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EMIGRANTS OF AHADARRA *** + +***** This file should be named 16011-0.txt or 16011-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/0/1/16011/ + +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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